Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme.
Prompt: Comfort after a nightmare.
(When I saw this, I wondered if it were possible for me to have Squall break down from a nightmare while keeping in character. Then I remembered Time Compression in FF8. Coupled with the interesting information tidbit that Squall is the only hero to strike down his opposing Warrior of Chaos in a Cutscene... Well, the rest just followed from there.)
Squall is not the type to ask for help, even when it is obvious that he needs it. Usually, Zidane and Bartz are more than happy to keep an eye on the introverted teenager, to make sure he's really okay and not just "putting on a brave face" or something.
But when they hear Ultimecia's piercing scream echo for miles in every direction, and Squall staggers back to camp moments later with the sorceress' blood still on his gunblade and on his hands, it is Cloud who steps up to the plate, who puts a hand to the battle-worn teen's shoulder and guides him to a place he can wash up in peace.
The SOLDIER does not leave the young SeeD's side, neither does he offer a hand when Squall's movements are sluggish in cleaning the drying blood away. He does not ask if the other is okay. While the others, so far, had claimed that their individual adversaries faded off on their own, Squall had gone as far as to kill his. If the young fighter – still somewhat of a kid, really – could be so lost in thought that it affected his awareness, then no, he was definitely not okay.
It gets worse as night falls. Cloud volunteered to bunk with Squall for the time being, to keep an eye on him during this uncertain period.
Squall's sleep is plagued by nightmares, but not once has Cloud heard him scream. Instead, he feels a deathly chill filling the immediate area, a sensation that rouses him almost instantly. If he turns to check for danger, he finds the source to be the young brunet sitting up, his fists bunching the sheets and his entire body rigid. Though his eyes are wide open, he does not seem to acknowledge anything in his environment as he stares into the distance, his mouth open as his chest heaves for breath.
Cloud moves at once, coming to the young man's side and taking him by the shoulders. When he is not greeted with any response, he shakes the brunet in his hold, sharp moves to hopefully force him back into a state of wakefulness.
"Squall, snap out of it," he commands in a firm, precise tone. "It's not real."
He expects the other to jerk away, to at least tense up a little, to react to his aggressive moves, but the usually alert youth is unresponsive, adopting waxy flexibility that enables the older blond to pry his fingers loose from the blanket with minimal effort. It is aggravating to feel so helpless, to try everything he can without any result for his endeavors.
Cloud wonders for a faint moment if the cursed sorceress had anything to do with this, if her magic had affected Squall in the seconds before he managed to land the finishing blow. Squall did mention that she was attempting a powerful time-based spell – Time Compression, if he recalled it right –, and he would not put it pass her to try one last revenge against the boy who opposed her so vehemently, to haunt him even in her passing.
Eventually, still trapped in the vision with no way of relief, already wide eyes widen even further. His expression is so very unguarded and vulnerable, as for a reason only Squall knows, a tear streaks a line down his cheek. His very spirit seems to have broken in that instant, and still he does not show any sign of waking.
Cloud does not say anymore. Threading his fingers through sweat-damp hair, he settles his hand on the back of Squall's head and gently pulls him close, until Squall is leaning into him with his scar pressed against his chest. With no other option he can think of, he holds the brunet in his arms, staying right by his side all through the night.
Neither speaks of it in the morning, when they rejoin the others. While some suspect and others worry, there is little they can do unless there is an actual call for help, and Squall is not the type to ask for help.
Still, he supposes he is lucky that Cloud is not the type that needs to be asked.
Shameless advertisement: If you'd like to prompt me to write something Cleon/Strifehart for you, drop by the Strifehart Kink Meme (http: //community. livejournal. com/ cleonrp/ 2723. html). The ones I like better will end up back here for your reading pleasure.