A/N: Thought it might be time to change this authors' note.

I was on a twenty-four hour work day when the idea for this popped up. In my dazed state, I watched Apocalypse Now and, most likely because I'm going through my fourth FFVII obsession in the eleven years since it was created, I noticed enough parallels between the plot/characters of the movie and the game to start this epic.

For those of you who don't know, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad is a novella set in the eighteen-hundreds about a man's journey into the jungles of the Congo--a metaphor to the venture into the dark recesses of the human mind--to search for someone who worked for his expedition, and is rumored to have gone murderously insane. The deeper he goes into the jungle, the more he himself begins to lose his grip on reality, morality, and sanity. Apocalypse Now, based on that book is, quite accurately, the exact same plot set in the Vietnam War, with the US Army replacing an expedition. ...sounds pretty damn similar to Cloud's search for Sephiroth, in my opinion.

Do you have to have read Heart of Darkness or seen Apocalypse Now to understand this? No, but I recommend the two, anyway! (I like A.Now better than the book, to be honest--it actually has humor.) To warn: in the future, this will contain explicit yaoi and het alike. Like the movie, this story is riddled with graphic violence and disturbing themes; I recommend that you have a strong constitution to continue. Have fun with this; I certainly am.

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one (prologue) : the rear.

I remember Nibelheim like I remember being born.

That isn't to say that there's no memory whatsoever; I do remember what it was like being pushed through the birth canal. But the first breath I took in life isn't much different from the last breath I took in Nibelheim, where the cold stings your lungs and the mako condenses in your chest. When I joined Shinra's Army, I'd told everyone that it was because I wanted to see the world, kick down doors and bring glory to myself and my little town, but it was also just to get away from the air.

So far only two of those things have been accomplished: I wouldn't consider myself a well-traveled person, even now as I linger in my humid apartment on an island off the coast of the Western Island, where the rear line has been set up. Kicking down doors gets weary on the knees, especially when you've done it as much as I have. And, I still haven't brought glory to Nibelheim for there are hundreds like me in Shinra.

No, to do that, you have to be Sephiroth.

I'm nowhere near there at the moment, and I don't see myself ever getting there if I stay here, naked in this apartment. The condensation is made of my own sweat, I'm sure, recycled thousands of times, as I haven't opened a window or stepped outside in days, horrified of what might happen if I do. For now I finger the blinds and peer outside at the Wutainese who have gathered here to work on our base, considered traitors in their native lands for accepting our doctrine. They've set up noodle stands and teahouses on the island to entertain their new "guests."

The few times I'd visited the teahouses, they'd all told me that they prayed for our victory. I know I should see this as a good thing, that some of the natives are on our side, but something about it left an even worse taste in my mouth than the cheap sake they poured me did: I don't like traitors, even if they are on my side.

As far as I know, there is no side. As far as I know, this is a job.

As far as I know, there's over there, and over here.

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In the wilderness of the Island, I'd prayed for R&R relentlessly. I sent letters home to my girls, Tifa and Aeris, asking them both to fly out to see me, playing a game with myself based on who would respond first . Whoever was too slow, I would send a quick letter back saying that my leave had been canceled. Of course it's wrong; I know it is, and I know that the Cloud they love would never do such a thing. But the Cloud they love can't make decisions either, and this is a different spectre.

I'm on R&R now in the rear, and upon arriving here two weeks ago, I found myself sending them both letters saying that my leave had been canceled, for as soon as I had been shown to my apartment, I wanted to walk right back out and into combat. This is crazy, I thought to myself, as I stood in my darkened room for nearly an hour, refusing to unpack or make myself comfortable. Who the fuck wants to go back in the shit?

I do. When I see my girls, I realized, I don't want to come back to this. It's hard to go from being caressed by the whip of a near-fatal gun wound, to the caress of a woman's hand, and then back again. But R&R is R&R, and that's exactly what it's for—except with me.

For even though I'm several miles away from the Island, I'm still there—my room is humid and muggy just the same and the sound of Shinra helicopters and machinery whirs about me. The natives that speak outside remind me of the refugees that we damn near blow to hell and barely help patch up. Everything red reminds me of blood, and Shinra's official color is red—matching symbolism on the president's part. It's everywhere. I can still hear artillery from the Island and it's all I can do not to twitch each time a mortar round goes off.

When these things creep into my head at night, my skin crawls and itches. I reach for my sword and find an excuse to slice things in half because there are no people or trees. I destroy anything I can hide behind and beg them—the enemy, Shinra, the girls, anyone—to come and get me.

First come, first serve.

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