Pairing: Gen (Subject to changes)
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Violence
Genre: Suspense, Mystery, Action/Adventure, Friendship

Pre-fic Notes: As yet this fic won't have any pairings in it, since at the start here Cloud's only 13 years old...although there's his ever prevalent Fanboy Crush on Sephiroth, heh. I'm not yet certain I'll be carrying this fic far enough forward (aka Cloud growing up further) that there will be a pairing, but if I do it'll likely be SephCloud, so you've been warned.

There are some references, and may eventually be more, to Before Crisis in this fic.

I'd also like to note that updates probably going to be rather sporadic and on a whenever I get to them basis as I'm having a bit of trouble getting back to work on my solo-fics, and my co-written piece Counter Crisis takes precident. However, I wanted to go ahead and post this first part in the hopes of encouraging myself to get to work on it again.

So, enjoy!

I.

Cloud felt as sleepy as the little fishing village around him. He'd become used to that feeling as of late. It reminded him of pleasant days in Nibelheim where he'd been able to sleep in late. He'd be woken by a work calloused hand on his shoulder and watery sunlight seeping in between the curtains. His mother would lean down, her mouth close to his ear, and whisper greetings to him as she coaxed him out of bed to help make breakfast. He missed the comforting words, the gentle guiding hands, and the smell of spices. Cloud felt certain that he would be lucky to recognize a kind voice now. The drill sergeants had come close to driving the memory right out of his head.

(Forget the idea that they'd offer encouragement.) Even he could recognize how snotty and untrue the thought was.

They weren't all that bad now, but in the beginning... Cloud let out a breath and adjusted his hold on his rifle. In the beginning the weapon had felt unwieldy in his hands, and Cloud himself had been unsure. Now it was like an old friend, now Cloud knew the ins and outs of it as well as he knew the nooks and crannies around Nibelheim. Sometimes he missed that too. It seemed forever ago that he'd spent his days clambering around the rockfalls and pathways just outside his hometown with a sturdy stick in hand while he fought invisible monsters. He'd liked to imagine that he was battling side by side with SOLDIERs, showing them how amazing he could be and winning the respect of the people. Then the daydream would change, and he'd be standing there, people gazing at him in awe. At the very back of the crowd he'd see Tifa's shining face and know he'd lived up to his promise to her.

Boy, had he been wrong about everything.

Some days Cloud looked back on how naïve and stupid he'd been, and couldn't help but boggle. He'd sure learned, though. When he'd left Nibelheim (In the dead of winter no less! Stupid boy, think you can take on the world?) Cloud had expected it would be easy. He'd arrive in Junon, find the people he needed to talk to, take a test for SOLDIER, and be on his way to glory. He couldn't have been more wrong. Thinking about it now, Cloud was embarrassed that he'd even considered the idea. He should have known better than to think it'd come easy. Ma always did say, "Good things come to hard workers. Only bad luck and cold nights await slackers and laggards." And Ma hadn't raised her boy to be either of those.

Maybe it was because he was a wide eyed country boy, but Cloud could admit he'd been lulled into a false sense of security. He'd been pissed that he was being shunted straight into the army, he was here for SOLDIER after all. The man working the desk at the office had just laughed at him. He'd said, "You do exceptional on your first PT test, kid, and you might get the fast track to SOLDIER. You don't, and you go through Basic like the rest of us. If you do well then you might get considered for SOLDIER, you don't then you stick around and try for SOLDIER if you want it. You do good, maybe they'll look at you. No one makes the elite without the baby steps first." Sullen, Cloud had headed off to join the rest of his new company at what the man had called Reception. Cloud later learned the rest of the soldiers called it Gravity, a tongue in cheek nickname for the process at best—"It's Gravity because they hold you there so long!" He hadn't quite understood the joke until he'd spent two weeks waiting with the other recruits. It hadn't been so bad, trying, yes, but not terrible. Things hadn't gotten difficult until he actually got into Basic.

Despite the faint chill in the air, a few beads of sweat prickled at the back of Cloud's neck. It itched, and he itched to reach back and scratch it. Maybe, he conceded, it was a good thing he'd got his hair cut short after all. With the helmet he could only imagine how much hotter he'd be if it had been left long. Sometimes Cloud still missed his ponytail. They'd chopped it off during Gravity, a mess of gold-blond hair all over the ground and his back that had made him itch for days. He'd been a little annoyed, because the Sephiroth had long hair so why couldn't he? He supposed it made some sense, and it did probably make wearing the helmet more comfortable. The thing made his hair even wilder than usual. He hadn't known it was possible for him to get hat hair.

Either way, once he was in SOLDIER maybe he'd grow it back out again.

A faint shout drifted up from somewhere down near the shoreline. Cloud let his gaze slide over the red tinted world he could see through his visor. It was late, the sun already gone down. Stars sparkled in the clear sky, a boon after the last few days of constant winter rains. Cloud found it a little unsettling that Junon retained such a temperature during the winter months, unlike Nibelheim. He didn't know if it came from being a coastal city, or if the weather was just more mild here. He was glad for it either way. Imagine having to stand guard out here if it had been up in the Nibel mountains! A shiver tried to skate up his spine at the thought, but Cloud kept himself stiff and still. He'd learned the hard way not to ever let his stance waver.

Somewhere to his left he knew his "buddy", as the drill sergeants liked to call him, was standing just as stock still as he was. Cloud was pretty sure his name was Racier, whether that was surname or first was another question entirely. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for dragging him down with him, but they'd learned long ago not to question the fairness, or unfairness, of whatever was dished out to them.

It didn't matter if it was Cloud who'd gotten into a fight—again—for ignoring one of the other troopers in their squad—again. Because Racier had been paired up with him for weeks now, because he and Racier were expected to act like partners at all times, they shared punishments just as well as triumphs. Cloud figured it was supposed to build camaraderie further. He was pretty sure Racier was about ready to gun him down instead.

(It's hardly my fault Nexen thinks I'm ignoring him all the time.) Even if he was. Nexen liked to say Cloud was snubbing him. Cloud was embarrassingly unsure what the word meant. (Just a nobody country boy surrounded by city slickers. Ma would say they deserved to be snubbed, whatever that is. Ma never did like city slickers...) All Cloud knew was he wasn't interested in playing nice with them any more than he'd wanted to with the kids back in Nibelheim. He didn't need them, and he'd prove it just as soon as he made SOLDIER. The drill sergeant's lectures about team work and watching the backs of your squad mates—that Cloud could understand. That didn't mean he needed to make friends with them. Soon enough he'd be SOLDIER, and that was all that mattered.

A few more days and there would be just three more weeks of Basic, and he'd be done. If he did real good, then maybe, just maybe... He'd have to rein in his temper a bit more just in case. The last thing he needed was to get sent home at this stage. He was so close to getting his dream, so close to proving he was better. It made his heart pound and his mouth go dry just thinking about it.

Down the road from their position, Cloud saw a small cluster of people emerging onto the main street. Most of them had fishing poles over one shoulder, and a string of fish over the other. Even at this distance he could hear them discussing their catches in loud, triumphant voices. The last time Cloud had gone fishing had been at the end of summer, when Nibel's foothills were still sunny and fresh, cicadas whining, and the streams no longer swollen from the spring melt. The autumn breeding run had been beginning to gear up, the leaves just starting to think about changing on some trees, and the evergreens smelling sweeter than ever. He'd brought his catch back to Ma, proud as could be, and they'd eaten it that night.

A little swoop of homesickness twisted his belly. The waters up near Nibelheim were fresher than they were here, where you could only eat so much of your catch without risking illness. They said the water was polluted with Junon's run off. Ma'd have said, "That's the way of big cities for you." with just that right tone in her voice that made it clear what she thought of it all. That was his Ma for you. Cloud had no idea how she made the world seem so simple. From what he could see, it certainly was anything but.

The small crowd of civilians dispersed, headed for home, no doubt. The silence settled in again. Only the rush of waves against the nearby shore broke it. The peace was a relief after a hectic couple of days. The barracks had been thrown into chaos by news that the President was coming to inspect the troops, even those lowly grunts still undergoing Basic. It had only been amplified by today's attack, though Cloud didn't know much about that. He'd heard a couple of the drill sergeants talking when the alarms had first gone off. Word had it that a Code S had been called. Cloud knew from the last few weeks—having had it drilled into his head along with a great deal of other information—that that was the highest on the scale. It was only used when the best of the best were called in.

Word had it that the Sephiroth was, or had been, in Junon today.

Cloud had nursed a brief, brilliant day dream that they'd have to be called on to help deal with the threat and he'd get to do something heroic, something that made the great SOLDIER notice him. The thought had been squashed quickly when they'd been shuffled back to their barracks and ordered to stay put. He could remember what they'd said clear as day: "You lot aren't ready for combat yet. The best thing you can do is stay here and out from under the real fighter's feet." They were probably right, but Cloud couldn't stop hoping to catch even just a glimpse of the man. He was disappointed that he hadn't.

There was a very small part of him that still hoped that he just might, but he'd buried it under the cynicism he half thought was a genetic legacy for all Nibelheim natives. Maybe that was just his line, though. Ma wasn't exactly a glass half full kind of lady.

The sound of gears grinding, accompanied by the mechanical hum of machinery whirring to life, jolted Cloud out of his thoughts. For a moment, a familiar, irrational fear that the drill sergeants could read his mind welled up and Cloud was sure he'd be caught out for day dreaming. It didn't matter that they'd been set extra hours standing guard at the dullest post in Junon, they were expected to stay alert at all times. He didn't dare turn around as the doors opened, expelling a gust of warm air, nor at the sounds of heavy boots thumping toward his position. Cloud could feel eyes on him, something he'd become attuned to and used to. He held his position with a will, eyes straight ahead and staring through the red tinted view offered by his visor.

"Alright you two," the gruff bark of his drill sergeant seemed to sound right in his ear. "Your shift is up!"

"Thank you, Drill Sergeant!" he barked right back in perfect time with Racier. Cloud had no idea what the man's name was, and a part of him wondered if he was even human enough to have one.

"Dismissed! Get back to the barracks!"

There was barely a heartbeat between the command and the abrupt heel turn Cloud and Racier performed. The two of them marched past their fellow infantrymen and the drill sergeant and into the warm, recycled air of the lift. Behind them the door ground closed, and Racier reached over and hit the button to send them upward. The grinding of gears was even louder inside the shaft. It was almost enough to make Cloud's bones ache. The lift ground to a halt far too soon, and without so much as a glance Racier was off. Cloud swallowed, feeling even guiltier as the lift whirred to life again, returning back down. No one liked being on Dog Door Detail, as his fellow infantrymen called it. Guarding the lift door in the village under Junon was pretty much the worst assignment available. The drill sergeants were fond of giving extra shifts for punishment. They particularly enjoyed inflicting it on troopers who lost their tempers. They liked to say it was a way to teach further control and patience.

Cloud reached up and hooked his fingers under his helmet and pulled it off. Even the warm touch of the heating system, which burned against his chilled arms, felt cool against his neck after wearing the stifling thing for three hours. Cloud winced slightly. No wonder Racier was upset. Their shift had eaten up all of their personal time thanks to Cloud.

The grinding of gears beat against his ears again, and a moment later his drill sergeant growled, "What are you loitering around for Private?"

Cloud stiffened his spine automatically, and hollered back, "Sorry, Drill Sergeant!"

The man snorted as he strode past him. His crisp red uniform coat snapped behind him like a banner. "Get back to your barracks before I send you down for another double shift, Private. It's almost lights out."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!"

Cloud set off immediately. He didn't want to chance another shift on top of his already long day.

Out on the wide, open main street the breeze immediately chilled his skin, and brought goose bumps out all across his arms. It was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the low glow of floodlights at the airport behind him, the docks ahead of him, and the windows of the buildings above him. Cloud cast a glance around himself, and bit the inside of his cheek. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late for lights out and he didn't want to cause more trouble right now.

Cloud tucked his rifle more firmly under his arm and picked his pace up into a jog, then ducked down an alley between two buildings. The whistle of the breeze over Junon faded away, replaced only by the sound of his own breathing and the heavy thump of his boots. The sudden screechy yowl of a stray cat cut through the night as the frazzled little beast tore away into the shadows behind a number of trash cans. Somewhere, in the distance, a dog started barking.

Just another average night in Junon. He was getting used to it: to the industrial smell, and the close quarters, and the lack of wolf song as they rallied down in the foothills; a family coming together. He was getting used to not seeing Mt. Nibel looming over him every day, and not worrying about how deep the snow would be when he crawled out of bed in the morning. It was easier and harder than it had any right to be, but Cloud thought he was doing pretty well for himself.

Then he staggered as a sudden heaviness, rich and cloying, enveloped his limbs. Cloud's shoulder smacked into the wall of the alley, his metal shoulder guard grating against the stone work. His helmet tumbled from his hand and thumped onto the ground with a hollow sound before it proceeded to roll across the alley where it came to rest at the base of another trashcan. From behind it, the twin, glowing eyes of another stray cat stared back at him, wide with terror and suspicion. Cloud struggled against the pull of his legs to buckle and the sudden sluggishness that had entered his mind. He could taste the sour-sweet flavor of a Sleep spell like bile on the back of his tongue. With every blink, his eyes became harder to open again.

At last he lost the battle, his legs giving out, and slid down to slump at the base of the wall. He could hear footsteps approaching. They echoed as though he heard them through a great deal of water, and with them came the sound of distorted voices. None of them made sense, and no matter how hard he fought against the spell he was going to lose his grasp on consciousness. When the last of the fight went out of him, he slid forward as blackness crept up around the edges and consumed him whole.