That Which Cannot Be Forgotten
The city rocked unsteadily underneath Cloud's feet as he caught himself, landing on top of the marred sky scraper. He swallowed dryly and gripped his blade against the staggering pain in his skull, collecting himself for the next attack. Debris crumbled noisily out the side of a nearby building, gashed and mangled by the onslaught seconds before – Cloud's blue eyes darted at the sound, then in the other direction, catching no sign of him.
With breakneck speed the swipe was taken, clash vibrating sharply as Cloud brought up the First Tsurugi to block the blow. He glimpsed the curve of pale lips and piercing eyes before being overwhelmed by the next assault of strikes from the extended sword, fending each with a quick retrieve of his narrow blade, clinking harshly as the noise rang out at the impact across the desolate landscape.
As the blows quickened, Cloud jolted at the sudden opportunity to land a hit in the exposed lower section of the man's torso, knocking the opponent off-place in the defending thrust and forcing him backwards across the rooftop. Cloud watched, breathing ragged as the silver haired figure withdrew. His vision swam alarmingly at the moment he stood stationary, followed soon after by the relentless, spiking convulsion racking his head – he closed his eyes against the sensation, willing it to leave, but he could hardly concentrate closely enough on his own thoughts before a rumbling, grainy voice sliced through his conscious.
"Pathetic." It mused in a low tremor. "Your body is waning. How long before your mind burns to its peak? Before you can no longer bare the weight of your sword?"
Cloud eased his eyes open. The image of the cloaked man wavered sickeningly and distorted, but he refused to let his vision fall, and his gloved hand re-gripped the handle of his weapon in reassurance as the sound of his own dry voice reached his ears, as if coming from a very long distance. "I have not fallen. You are the one who has lost his mind – and his body. I have slain you at the brink of your rebellion, and now there is nothing left of you."
"My rebellion - " The man repeated thoughtfully. His voice was sharp and loud in comparison to Cloud's, who's had the impression of speaking through a muffled veil. " – has yet to be witnessed. When the time comes, this planet will glimpse the inconceivable presence of Jenova, and I will show you, Cloud," Piercing Mako eyes watched from slit pupils as Masamune was raised, extended toward Cloud's midsection. "how it feels to be truly helpless."
The silver haired figure charged with dizzying speed. Cloud brought up his sword in the mere second it allowed a shield from the swipe, but he couldn't focus as severe jolts of white pain danced before his eyes at the sudden movement, and he shuddered visibly in the process of defending himself against the next swing.
Green eyes narrowed at the opportunity and the man relished as his blade sank through the exposed flesh of Cloud's left shoulder, assimilating a sharp cry from the other's mouth.
He released himself from the blade's edge, glimmering with a sheen of dark blood, and fiercely wielded the First Tsurugi as he advanced aggressively upon his opponent, each thrust and stroke of his sword met with an emphatic and deafening clang against the opposite's steel. At the extent of his speed, the silver haired man still overwhelmed Cloud, equitable to the blinding pain ravaging his skull and the bleeding wound in his shoulder, which was making his movements unwillingly duller. The contending figure saw this, and, after blocking several more strikes, brought Masamune forward and penetrated the mid-section of Cloud's stomach with a clean swing.
Pale blue eyes widened in startled agony as Cloud lurched forward, one hand coming up to rest on the gaping area. He breathed through his mouth, disoriented, the hand gripping his sword shaking with strain. The blurred figure in front of him smiled almost ruefully, eyes glinting.
"What is your greatest fear, Cloud?" The man's voice rumbled through the hollow atmosphere. "Tell me, so I can have the pleasure of witnessing your despair."
Blood flowed thickly between the clenching fingers of Cloud's gloved hand, his eyes straining to keep their focus, but a soft hue was settling steadily across his mind in a warm mist.
"For you… to come back from my memories." He answered in a slow rasp, eyelids sliding shut against the welcoming haze, relieved of susceptibility.
He heard the smirk expressed in the voice, seemingly situated right against his ear as it pulsated through his fading consciousness.
"I will never be a memory."
A gloved hand clenched his chin abruptly, the cold fabric digging into the tender skin of his cheek as the grip on his lower jaw forced Cloud's face upward and eyes open, his vision swimming in and out of focus. He grabbed at the hand steadily descending toward his neck, clasping the man's wrist with bloodied fingers, but lacked the strength to free himself from its enclosure. His wielding arm shook at his side, frustratingly inoperative under the weight of his sword and severity of the man's hold.
Mako green eyes narrowed in twisted exhilaration as the figure's stark white face inched closer to its captive. The metal grip encircling Cloud's neck tightened, sending frantic half-thoughts through his brain and rendering him senseless as adrenaline bubbled up - causing him to claw at the man's grip in a last resort for freedom.
The slit pupils centering his opponent's eyes retracted faintly at the sight of this action, and the silver haired man brought his mouth slowly close to the side of Cloud's face, breath wispy and hot against his ear. "This is your purpose. You were given life in order to suffer, to be struck down. You will be on your knees, begging for forgiveness the day your body is rendered crushed and useless by my hands."
An involuntary shudder tore through Cloud as the rough whisper cascaded into his skull. He was breathless and too weak to react, eyes beginning to cloud over from the excluded energy it took to grip his sword.
The face curved its lips upward as the voice continued to murmur lowly, easing the words into the other's subconscious with precise aptitude. "I know what you treasure most, Cloud. I know the incisive terror it would cause you to have it taken away."
Cloud's eyes widened exceptionally as though he'd been physically struck. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get his mind associated with the actions it would take to form the words, tongue feeling heavy against his mouth and throat constricting with pain. The man seemed to understand what he intended to say regardless, easing his face away from the blond hair and leveling his gaze on Cloud's own, the alighted expression present there enough to shake him to his core.
"Tifa…!" The outburst of breath was unexpected and jolted him awake – a set of dark eyes meeting his frantic ones with a faint hint of worry incorporated with warm reassurance. The moon light seeping through the nearby window enhanced the fairness of the young woman's exposed skin, her body upright slightly in the thin covers of the sheet's fabric. Cloud took in the sight of her from his position, back laid stiffly against the mattress and body feeling wired to strike, painfully contorted muscles retracting quickly as he realized where he was - that he did not have his sword in his hand.
His breathing began to slow and he sat up, suddenly shivering from the cold sweat layering his skin. Tifa watched, her gaze steady and knowing. She brought a hand up and cupped his face lightly, the sensation feeling soft and warm. She tried to meet his eyes, but his face was turned, blond spikes haphazardly hiding his expression.
"Was it the same dream?" She asked quietly. The kids would still be asleep at this hour – the clock on the bed stand read a quarter after three. The room was still except for the faint rustling of the curtains against the windows as a light breeze washed gently throughout the room.
"Cloud." She tried again after receiving no response.
He nodded once, looking down at the folds in the covers. "It was Sephiroth." He spoke slowly, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden and unsettlingly reminding him of the feel of a forceful hand clasping around his neck. He took a moment to get his voice working, and Tifa waited patiently until he was ready to continue. "We were on the rooftop. I had trouble focusing, because my head was in pain, and he overpowered me."
Tifa moved the hand that was cupping his cheek so she could brush the blond strands out of his eyes, her fingers intertwining in the locks gently. She watched him encouragingly as their eyes met each other. "How is your head now? Is there still pain?"
"No." He breathed evenly.
The pain from his nightmare seemed to have vanished, but he remembered it very vividly. A dull light-headedness had replaced what was once the pulsating white pressure that had racked his head moments before, and the feeling left him relieved. Tifa had an expression of caution etched across her features regardless, though she gave a faint exhale through her nose and lowered her hand to rest it in her lap.
It was hard for her. Seeing him toss and turn in his restless nights while all she could do was simply lay by his side and brush the damp hair away from his face while waiting for the dreams to subside. It had grown worse to an extent, slowly yet gradually prying into the conscious moments of the day until darkness under the eyes were visible and the patience he had once adorned with her, Denzel and Marlene had become something of a frustrating struggle to keep the exchanges flowing.
Yet Tifa waited for him, as she did so in the many years of his absence when the young boy she had grown to finally understand went away to become SOLDIER – only to come back more disoriented and confused than the day he left. She never lost faith in the promise between them, and if it was her turn to now offer the hand in rescuing she would gladly take the responsibility, regardless of how long it would take for him to accept it.
This was the reason she wrapped her arms around him tenderly, feeling him stiffen at the motion, but gradually he allowed himself to relax into her embrace, and with a soft smile she sensed his arms slowly being brought up to hold her gently. Cloud always held her with such unmitigated care and treasuring that Tifa wondered if he thought she could simply break at the slightest hindrance she took upon him. It was far from the truth.
"I'll always be here." She whispered faintly, the sound of her voice filling up the dark room with soothing warmth that, for at least tonight, obliterated all lingering terror within him.
End