1.
The good people always die, huh?
Something Denzel hat once said, speaking of his experience as an orphan after Sector 7 was reduced to rubble. Something that flashed through his mind as he felt the bullet slam into his back, ripping through muscle. The light surrounding him dimmed as his eyes closed instinctively, his body focused all senses inward on the damage. He breathed, kept breathing. No lung pierced.
His eyes opened. He had survived an impossible battle. He'd banished the demon that haunted him back to the spirit world. He refused to die now. Not at the hands of his disciples.
Adrenalin was still surging as his hand clenched around the sword. He forced the pain to become secondary. It was easy to ignore blood dripping onto the steel when he was already covered in it. Teeth grinding, he lifted the weight and turned, charging.
Two figures in front of him. Two reminders of the shadow that kept returning to the planet. Anger added to the rush in his veins, making him leap with his blade raised. Their materia glowed from afar, the threat in it doing nothing to intimidate him. There was no hesitation, even as he saw the inevitable collision of power.
It engulfed them, threw him backwards with the force. He choked on blood, dust, exhaustion as he hit the ground, sliding until his weapon lodged into the ground. Dragging himself to his knees, he peered through the debris and saw the bodies on the opposite edge. They were disintegrating already. Their own magic betraying them.
His chest ached deeply, the bullet and stab wounds sending his nerves alight. The taste of rust blanketing his throat. He'd done it somehow though. Shinra would owe him heavily for this. The planet would not be taken apart and it was sheer luck that he hadn't been either.
Above all, he could hear her voice in his head. The one he wanted both to stay with him and disappear forever. Comfort. No praise but gratitude. It was a presence he welcomed and as he collapsed in the real world, she was there to lead him home.
He awoke again in water. It soaked his clothes, swallowed the red and rejuvenated where it could have drowned him. That's when he felt the hands. His eyes squinted at sunlight and stone pillars and when he stood, his body obliged without protest.
Children all around him and familiar faces on the shore of the pool. He grew clearer with every moment he looked around. The rain that had healed his Geostigma, collected in a lake around his waist. Apparently, it had saved him again. These people here…he caught one woman's gaze from the edge and read everything in her face. Tifa's smile said it all; he had lived, they had succeeded and everyone was going to make it.
He could have dropped to his knees in relief, but the audience kept him from giving in. His eyes fell to the boy at her side and he found himself wading towards them. Denzel hesitated before letting himself be lifted into the water. Instinct guided his hands into the water and he let the drops slide through his fingers, watched them run across the boy's face. It was a euphoric moment to watch the black, seeping marks disappear along with the worry in Denzel's eyes. His laughter was the signal everybody seemed to have been waiting for.
All around him, people began mimicking his actions, bathing in the healing magic of the water and washing away the stigma. He was about to follow Denzel when something caught his gaze by the open church door. He didn't know what exactly drew his attention away from his allies into the dark aisle but he held his breath when he saw her.
Moving from her crouch, she walked towards the exit, her braid brushing against her arm as she turned back to him. Her smile was soft, her words a message for him. The man's wave behind her was a confirmation. This was their last encounter. This time, the sorrow stayed back and the faintest of smiles worked its way onto his face. It was his forgiveness.
He breathed in. They were gone and he knew there was no seeking them out again. They deserved their peace. For the first time, he thought, maybe, he did too.
His movements felt lighter when he stepped outside and was greeted by the enthusiastic congratulations of his comrades. Vincent's gaze was almost warm, Barrett's hand was unusually considerate as he clapped him on the back, Cid's cussing tripled with his excitement and Yuffi and Red battled for the right to ask about fight details first. For a moment, his attention slipped through to Denzel, who had taken to splashing Marlene.
The happiness on their faces made him think of the old days in Nibelheim. He glanced at Tifa as she helped another child into the water. She'd always held onto the happiness, even after her revolutionary days and all the destruction in her life. Even after her hometown and family were taken away, even after he had failed to keep his promise by almost getting her killed.
How had he lost touch with it so easily? The last truly unbound happiness he remembered feeling was in the years before SOLDIER. Perhaps he had forgotten about it in the face of death and torment.
The church emptied as people left to spread the news. Not that many would remain that hadn't noticed the rain. Eventually, the fighting group dispersed as well, most of them joining Cid on the ship. Vincent vanished as he did, but not without discreetly patting the children on the head. Barrett insisted he would return soon to check up on Marlene, who demanded he should come in time for their school holiday.
Cloud barely paid attention. These conversations of normalcy didn't reach him. He glanced down himself and his fingers drew along the largest tear across his clothing. Not a scar left to remind him that the blade had been real. If not for some blood still clinging to the fabric, it could have been a battle in his mind.
He should be glad there were no marks left. Still, it bothered him. Having been through insanity and back, the lack of reminder made it seem like another figment of twisted memory. Phantom pain, only phantom wounds. It was over now.
He stared at the softly rippling lake, pondering his own journey forward. He could leave for a while. Get his head back in the right place. Not that he hadn't been trying to do that each day for the past months. Deliveries had started as a business idea and had changed into an excuse, an escape. He hadn't accomplished anything on his tours and travels, no matter how far away he went. It hadn't brought him peace as much as this battle to the death had. The irony left him creasing his brow.
"Cloud," the voice came with an outstretched hand, "Let's go home"
He looked into Marlene's eyes, the endearing, hopeful smile on her face. In that second, he knew he couldn't refuse the kids. He could sneak out in the night, leave for days on end feeling guilt and yet never find the closure he needed. Maybe it was to be found in Edge all along. Right here.
The small fingers curling around his gloved ones were an anchor he couldn't shake. It was their future he fought for.
"Yeah," he agreed and with a final nod to Barrett, let the girl pull him out of the ruins.
He settled Marlene on the front of his bike, noticing that someone had replaced his swords in the compartments of the machine. Tifa's work. Nobody else would have thought to take care of his weapon. She had followed him out, Denzel on her heels and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards as she saw them on the motorcycle.
"Don't let Barrett catch you on that," she told the girl, winking at her. Marlene just nodded her head obediently, actually casting a glance towards the sky where the Highwind was taking off. Tifa's glance slid to him. "I'll see you there?"
He gave her a look at the question in her tone. She just raised an eyebrow and gestured behind her. He followed her indication, taking in the broken church one more time. It had been a refuge but he didn't need to return out of shame anymore.
His words were solid when he answered, "I'll get us dinner on the way"
The responding smile was all he needed. As he took off with Marlene pressed against his chest, he kept it in mind. It was an expression he didn't want to take away again by disappointing Tifa. He'd told her he wasn't capable of taking care of anyone and it was true.
Until a threat had arrived that had forced him to. He'd seen no other choice. If there was one thing left in him, it was honour. He wouldn't abandon his comrades to fight against an enemy he understood best of all. He couldn't run away from his past and today had proven that there would never be closure. It would return, chase him as long as he let it.
He needed to find a way to move forward. He wondered if this family, this existence in Edge, with all the memories tied to it, was truly what would give him freedom.