CLOUD - FIRE
"Crash, crash, burn. Let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground… so let it breathe, let it fly, let it go, let it fall, let it crash, burn slow. Then you call upon God. Oh then you call upon God." Hurricane 30 Seconds to Mars feat. Kayne West.
The pages curled grey in the fire, burning in fire and flames and dancing ice.
His eyes flared mako green, pupils sliding into cat like slits before rounding back to normal. His lips curled into a sneer at the burning article as it burnt (burnt and crumbled into ash).
His fingers idly played over his materia, and the colours danced beneath his fingers as he turned, walking away from the grate, the page still burning smoking and crumbling into ash.
Six years. He never knew it had been that long. Six years of his life passing, in green and white, green and white burning it up. He was twenty two. What had happened to seventeen and eighteen and nineteen and all the years in between. They were all lost, eaten away by mako and tubes and needles and lab coats.
His memories felt raw half the time. Life a mirror of broken fragments and shards. They spun, catching the light, and they cut, jagged wounds digging in, painfully reminding him of the missing moments, and the moments that never ever seemed to go away.
And even as he turned, walking away from the fire, which was only just starting to catch alight with the flames of hell, the face on the clipping was still seared into his memories, broken fragments and those violet blue mako eyes, dancing, mocking, unknowing.
"We're friends right?"
His lips curled into a bitter smile. Once maybe. No more.
Behind him the door slammed shut, fanning the flames and the growing fire within. The village had burned once, to the ground. Now it would burn again, burning away the fake and the false and the illusion. Just like the mako had burnt away his memories and pieced them back together, fragmented and shattered.
Faintly he heard the call in his blood and in his cat slit eyes tinted green for Reunion. It hummed through his veins, whispering and promising. He had become lost in it at one point, as the mako broke down his mind. But it had been humming for so long and he was all but immune now to the humming living Jenova Mother. The cells in his body were long dead as the mako ripped them apart. So much mako, he' drowned burned in the stuff until his vision was green tinted and he breathed it as easily as air.
Then the Jenova cells, caught and trapped in the endless green, caught and trapped in the burning mako… his body became a battleground between the Calamity's cells and the lifestream plaguing his body. It had burned away Her cells, leaving them dead and shadows of their former self. The mako won the fight, but lost the battle as it was absorbed into the body, mingling with the blood and bone and muscle until he was convinced he would bleed green.
His eyes glowed eerily in the night, the mountain air cold and fresh. Blue eyes flickered faintly, dancing with the firelight from the flaring building behind him. Idly he slipped the sword from the loose sheath across his back.
He wished it didn't quite as strongly resemble Fair's large Buster Sword. His fusion blade was large, certainly, but not quite up for competing with the Buster. It was long enough in his opinion, and certainly nowhere near the length of Masumune, which was how he liked it. Still sheathed across his back in their loose leather sheath lay the other three blades, all that he could slip onto this main blade as easy as breathing.
Hojo would regret allowing his specimen to play with swords.
Failure. That one would come back to bite the scientist on his nose. It had taken time, as his body broke itself apart then slowly, agonisingly put itself back together. Long since left to rot in the laboratories, forgotten lost. There were times he thought that the scientist never expected him to recover at all.
There were times when he never quite worked out how he did.
Still, being Hojo's failure was much better than being a success, as he slid into the background, occasionally being called back to the lab for tests and more tests and more tests but normally Hojo forgot about him, the failed Sephiroth clone.
The Jenova cells never did quite hum the right tune in his ears.
And even though he had been broken shattered into tiny little pieces he had been allowed the time to stick himself back together. It had been slow years it had been painful each memory cut like a shard of glass and he was fragile, as if a slight wind could break him.
But Fair would die. And he had to would be the one to do it.
His fingers had torn the page from the newspaper a stray scientist had chucked at him from where he lurked in the basement. Chaos had watched on, amused at the rage that had flared in the green mako green eyes. He had almost devoured the news, the news of the betrayer who had left him to rot. But it made him sick at the tale they had spun, of the hero of Nibelheim, there was no Nibelheim, burnt to the ground and a replacement built hero and protector of the weak.
"Me, I'm going to be a hero!"
His hand clutching the table had caused the wood to splinter and Chaos to chuckle. And the Jenova cells and mako and anger and pain and hate and betrayal in his veins had hummed.
Vincent had cautioned him against rash actions - this being said by the ex-Turk who had spent his latest thirty years sleeping in a coffin, he couldn't exactly be the best source of advice best source of company in the world. But it was better than Hojo and the scientists and the poor grunts assigned to guard the lab, terrified of the monsters that stalked within.
No.
It was just the one monster. Just him and the passages and corridors that he flaunted along, eyes glowing blue and materia dancing beneath his fingers.
Valentine never tended to leave his lonely environments of the basement, and Chaos couldn't be tempted out either, the demon preferring the soft darkness and solitude that sleeping on sins gave to an immortal man.
"Happy now?"
He turned away from the blaze that danced with fire and passion and fury all at the same time. His lips twitched mockingly and his eyes blazed with the burning flames. The black haired gunman leant against a tree, crimson eyes regarding him steadily, and behind the red iris, the faintest shadow of Chaos could be seen, although it was the ex-Turk that spoke.
"Very," his voice was low, soft but deadly. Behind him the false illusion burnt, burning burning burning until the screams were no more and the flames whose greedy fingers reached into the sky had no more to burn.
Nibelheim had burnt once more.
Failed, fail failure. Not now, not ever, as Hojo would soon find out. His dismissal was something he was extremely grateful for, as he lived and breathed and lived and burnt all underneath the scientist's big greasy nose.
And Vincent Valentine, slumbering on sins, awoken from his slumber with the shadow of a demon beneath his eyes had taken some choice information before deciding that there were things better than sleeping away your immortal life, and any chances to make a difference and repent himself should be taken now and soon before time moved on once more in its great leaping bounds.
"Cloud."
It took him several seconds to process the name and turn in accordance, as was expected of him, his reaction. It had taken him days of trawling through data to find out who he had been. It had been the only memory to evade him, the only one that he had left, sitting in that cold green mako tank with the pain and the sadness and the hurt.
It had taken time, but he had found it, the name among names. He still wasn't sure when he would find himself though, lost as he was, scattered and shattered memories badly stuck together.
The ones he had wanted to forget the most, the ones of Fair, of smiles and laughter and betrayal and pain and anger wouldn't go away. No matter what he tried. So he had resolved to make him go away instead. He would pay, and get what he deserved the bastard the big brave soldier who had to leave it to a little cadet to sort the problem out then claimed the glory for himself, while the cadet lost himself in mako and green and pain and jenova.
Not that he wanted the glory. Not that he wanted to be a poster boy for Shin-Ra, running around like dogs and puppies. But he hadn't asked for the labs, and he hadn't asked to be abandoned by a friend. One friend, only friend, best friend…
And Nibelheim had burnt, andhe had burnt and now it was his turn. He would burn too violet eyes wide and knowing of his fate. Just as the paper article had caught alight, flaring and dancing and burning and burning…
Vincent eyed him warily as he turned, lips still curled in some twisted smile at the promise of what would happen to Fair. Oh he would burn alright.
Crash to the ground from his high podium. Crash to the floor and beg for forgiveness. Crash to the earth as reality hit home.
Oh yes, he would burn.
Crash and Burn.
The blonde wasn't quite sure of his plan. His goal was clear, but the path to it wavering and shimmered in the sky, faint and confusing, a lost trail, burnt trail.
And then he had fallen, tumbled from the sky in a whirlwind of metal and air, and why was he falling? He hadn't meant to be the one to fall, drop, crash, burn from the sky, the plate, the sky plate that was the sky.
Then he had opened his eyes and met green, vivid earth and the soft smell of lilies and flowers.
"You fell from the sky. Came crashing down. You startled me."
"I came…crashing down?"
The responses were lost, and he stumbled awkwardly through the conversation, just like he done when meeting his childhood friend, a friend that he would never tell, never admit, not even to himself, that he could barely remember.
"Cloud Strife? It's me, Tifa… Tifa Lockhart. We were neighbours back in Nibel-"
Her flowers were bright in the dullness of the slums, mostly a yellow sunshine colour, with some white, pink and a couple of red splashes of colour dotted around. The girl smiled her smile almost infectious, happy and innocent. "The roof and the flower bed must have broken your fall. You're lucky." She said, skipping around.
"Flower…bed…" he gestured around to it, "Is this yours?" The words felt strange in his mouth, and that clear, emotionless hatred, that notion of revenge… the path gave a violent tilt. "Sorry about…falling on them…"
"That's all right. The flowers here are quite resilient because this is a sacred place. They say can't grow grass and flowers in Midgar, but for some reason the flowers have no trouble blooming here." Her voice was soft and soothing, like cool earth against his burning, bitter wounds and he soaked it up, half listening to her talking, chatting on about the flowers, about her materia "Good for absolutely nothing!" and when she asked him what he did he took several seconds to longer than he should to formulate a response.
The hate and rage flared up, burning, but then he glanced at those soft green eyes of the young girl…woman… and he paused. "Me?" he asked, confused and lost, "I don't really know…anymore… anything really…"
The girl laughed, sweet and soft, "Oh…a jack of all trades. My boyfriend's like a bit, 'cept he can't build anything to save his life! He tried to make me a flower cart, but it kinda' fell apart." Her smiled was infectious, and he felt his lips twitch when her gaze fell on something over his shoulder.
"Hey, Cloud… you said you do anything… you any good at being a bodyguard?"
The swordsman spun around, the soft green earth forgotten as the fire burned fresh, eyes flashing as he spotted the Shin-Ra uniform and that blasted suit. Turk.
"Please!" Aerith begged. "Take me home. I'll give you one date, okay?"
He wasn't listening, one hand reaching for his sword, stepping forwards. Well this was one way to get him message across to Fair. Burning eyes say the red headed Turk flinch back from his gaze, "Mako eyes…" he muttered under his breath, but the enhanced hearing picked it up.
One hand reached the hilt of his sword, his materia sparking. He could almost taste the blood already.
Then that dratted girl, the flower girl, threw earth on the burning flames, effectively dousing them as she cried, "Don't fight here! You'll ruin the flowers! Come on!" She spun around; racing away and the blonde paused for a moment, torn between protecting her - or tasting the blood of the Shin-Ra lapdogs that had made him into a monster.
With a snarl he whirled around, giving chase to the flower girl.
That dratted Turk tried to follow, but a Bolt spell or two put pay to that. The blonde was quite pleased. The flowers weren't even damaged.
He found Aerith outside the church, panting. "Th-they're looking, f-for me again."
"The Turks? What would they want with you?"
"Maybe they think I have what it take to be in SOLDIER," she joked, missing the issue and his blue eyes narrowed, considering. Maybe hanging out with this girl wasn't so bad if the Turks were stalking her. He wondered why though. Then she smiled, twirling around, the pink ribbon in her hair catching the light. "Let's go bodyguard!" she said, taking off and once again leaving him to follow, confused and lost.
The mother wasn't that welcoming. He hardly expected her to be. Aerith followed him when he tried to leave, all smiles and laughter, and he couldn't work out why she wasn't afraid. Why wasn't she scared of him like all the others? He was a monster, a failure, a piece of twisted soul… how could she be so nice? How could she not care?
"So are you in SOLDIER?"
"No."
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"…?"
"You're eyes have a strange glow. Isn't that the mark of a SOLDIER?"
"How do you know?"
"My boyfriend's a SOLDIER. First Class. What rank were you?"
"I wasn't in SOLDIER."
"Then why do your eyes glow?"
Because he was a monster. Because he was a human experiment gone wrong, a failure, lost and broken, shattered, burnt. Because this girl had made him consider what he would do, once he killed Fair, once Hojo was dead. Because he didn't have a purpose, and likely… never would…
"Cloud?"
He turned away. He didn't deserve her being so…so nice to him.
Briefly he considered that he should be the one to burn, crash and burn instead of Fair. Maybe he deserved it… he wasn't exactly human anymore, his DNA twisted and laced with mako.
He'd crashed already, falling from the plate to land amongst the flowers. Aerith and her bubbly personality, happy go lucky, and her leaf earth green eyes smiling back at him.
His blood hummed for revenge, and his eyes burned for something, anything to end the pain. The presence of the girl soothed it, and he could forget for precious moments that were far too few in number. The other girl…her name kept slipping away from his mind, even as he tried to latch onto it… Tifa…Tifa… she'd been like that. A calm, soothing promise of a future, of a past, of the solid evidence that he existed and wasn't a clone, wasn't Hojo's mindless puppet.
And maybe somewhere there… somewhere there was a future.
He shook his head, clearing the whirlwind of thoughts. His gaze catching sight of a carriage passing the park. Soft wine coloured eyes trapped and helpless. Aerith turned, following his line of sight.
The girl was slightly mad. He could see that at least when she made him dress up, dragging him around Wall Market with great enthusiasm. "Come on Cloud! You need to lighten up sometimes!" His fingers danced over his materia and he would have loved to burn the damn dress, but he was still puzzled, the goal only to clear but the path only too obscure.
She skipped along, a ball of bouncing fun, and for a moment he thought he saw traces of The Puppy in her actions. He didn't bother wondering how she even knew, about some aspects of the thriving trade of digestives and tiaras in the bustling market, or why he spotted, all too regularly, the flash of blue suits. One blue suit, he mildly noted, that Wutain man who had lost his pony tail.
The blonde didn't protest as Aerith dragged him towards the mansion, green eyes sparkling with determination and pure life. He stumbled slightly in his heels, and wondered how the hell people walked in them as he made his way up towards the Don's mansion.
Currently Tifa and Aerith had priority over Fair, but that man would get his course. Well, he'd go along with it. It would bring him to that damn Fair and maybe he'd find what he was looking for along the way.
Maybe there was the promise of a future, somewhere in Midgar's smoky grey sky.
AN - This can be considered a one-shot, or there can be more chapters added. This is my first Final Fantasy VII fic and I haven't played any of the games, but have read most of the scripts and watched the cutscenes on YouTube.
Obviously Cloud is OOC, but then he's just spent years in the lab, being the sole subject of Hojo's scrutiny. The mad scientist therefore concentrated more on him and took more care over his 'specimen'. I consider this story as having diverged from the main plotpost the Nibelheim Incident. (although following the canon plot line of FFVII) The change is hopefully quite obvious.
Hope you enjoy. ~ Eclipse