At first, it was just a murmur.

When they first met on that mission, he couldn't help the faint sense of déjà vu flashing through his mind. But it was only a murmur—something dimly recalled and immediately dismissed. Despite the sick feeling that started somewhere low in his stomach when he dwelled too long or hard on it, there were more important things to worry about in the mission. Things that would kill him if he didn't pay close enough attention.

And still—

—A weak breath and blood, so much of it, but still that God-awful smile and whispered reassurances that it is okay, that everything is okay—

Zack ignored it. It was just a murmur, after all.

The murmur grew to a whisper.

It trailed in shivers down his spine when he met Cloud's eyes. Those bright blue eyes that always looked soft and lonely and full of raw innocence. They spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled but that would, without a shadow of a doubt, one day be realized.

And Zack knew those eyes. He saw reflected in them a distant memory that he pushed aside whenever it tried to surface.

He had to stop there. Stop before the thought took root and spread, spread to his rapidly weakening arguments and insistences that he was just training the kid and there was nothing selfish if he felt lonely when Angeal wasn't on his side.

Still the whisper wouldn't leave him. It came to him more often, and he would start to hear it even when alone; it crept through his dreams and wove its way into his mind. When Cloud was nearby it was worse, but if he ever noticed that Zack was behaving strangely, the blond knew to refrain from asking.

Zack appreciated that.

He could be doing squats and warming up in the training room, waiting almost impatiently for Cloud to come only to have a sudden flash of red across his vision, the harshly cloying scent of decay and oil and tears replacing the clean smell of the training ground. And then he would feel that his weapon was far too big, far too bulky. It should've been thinner, smaller, lighter, like Sephiroth's Masamune.

—Slice them to pieces, all of them, why should they still be alive when he isn't, never will be again, what is the point anymore? You have no purpose, shouldn't be alive, should never have been—

Zack didn't understand what was happening to him—not even Aerith could provide a sure answer. He wanted to understand, because once something was understood, he could fight against it, do something about it. He wanted to get rid of this cursed whispering.

But most of all, he wanted to know what could possibly have possessed Cloud when he thought it was a good idea to buy a set of shuriken and kunai for side arms when Wutai War was still fresh on their mind.

The problem with a whisper is that it can echo.

As time went on, Zack's ears began to ring with the sounds that weren't even really sounds at all, but dim memories and half-formed thoughts. There were times when he'd be swept away by his own musings, trying so very hard to pretend that these memories weren't real, and hours would pass without him realizing. Cloud had noticed, had asked him again and again what was wrong, but what could he say? What explanation could possibly be given that could make Cloud understand?

The training sessions he had with Cloud suddenly felt so stifling, and Zack found himself feeling trapped. He felt the strong urge to just run away, as far as he could, so that he wouldn't need to face Cloud and the echoes caused by his presence.

But the stronger, more violent urge was to stay by Cloud's side, to protect him from any danger. He felt that he had walked away once, had left Cloud with so much loneliness and deep pain. Staying by his side, ensuring his safety, and taking care of him seemed so right for Zack to do. After all, that would drive away the vision of blond hair matted with blood, so much blood, of dim blue eyes, a lifeless body on his arms and a blade protruding into that small chest.

It hurts so much more than any physical wound ever could, because at least a wound could be understood, even if it couldn't be treated, but Zack had no clue about what was happening to him. He worried he fretted and he caught himself sighing more times that he cared to count, and for what? All he really knew was that this madness hadn't started until Cloud had tumbled head-over-heels into his life. Did that make it Cloud's fault? Should he blame Cloud for what was happening?

Maybe he should, but Zack couldn't bring himself to do so. Cloud; so alive, so warm, so utterly trusting of his every word and so sincere in all that he did. Whether it was his fault or not, Zack quickly realized that he didn't care.

That conviction fell apart the day he came to the sight of Cloud making a ball of whirlwind.

He'd seen the ball of whirlwind, sometime, somewhere, on Cloud's hand, adept and dangerous, turned to him, intended to (probably not) kill him.

This was terrifying, because it meant that everything—the dreams, the whispers, the visions—they were all real, and he could no longer pretend otherwise.

Suddenly things were starting to slot into place, piece by jagged piece. Zack felt his rationality slipping away from him as his mind wrapped around itself, sorting past memories from the present, trying so desperately to separate Sasuke and Zack—which was he, really? He'd been Sasuke first, but did that mean that that was still who he was? He didn't think so—he'd changed since then, had become someone completely different from Sasuke.

And what, then, did this make Cloud to him? Was all of this—the guilt, the sense of obligation, the protective urge, the damned feelings—because of their past life together? He'd loved Naruto, had watched the Kyuubi's presence (and at one point, Sasuke himself) make the boy he'd come to hold so dear suffered so bad, had held him in the middle of a crimson battleground as he drew his last breath. Cloud, Naruto, were they the same person? And if so, who was it that he saw now when he looked at him? Who was it that Cloud (Naruto, Cloud, NarutoCloudNaruto) wanted him to see?

They both had changed so much; even Naruto's tan was now on Zack and Cloud was so pale like Sasuke. Zack was exact opposite of Sasuke and eerily almost resembling Naruto while Cloud was exact opposite of Naruto and disturbingly almost like Sasuke.

This was all too much. Never, in either of his lives, had he even considered the possibility that he may be headed for some sort of afterlife. He didn't believe in the Lifestream and all mystical sorts. Reincarnation of the non-artificial sort, lovely concept though it was, had never been considered, and he had always known that there would be no Heaven for someone like him. Nothingness was what he had hoped for—at least in nothingness he wouldn't have to face the memories day after tired day. Itachi, Naruto, everyone he had lost along the way—in nothingness he wouldn't exist, and their smiling faces wouldn't hover tauntingly, always just out of his reach.

Zack squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop thinking, focusing on the sound of small hurricane on Cloud's hand. It didn't work, precisely, but the ball of wind vanished, and Cloud turned to him with a smile, his warm presence one that Zack thought he would always be able to recognize no matter how many years and lifetimes passed.

For the first time since Naruto died, Zack fell asleep crying.

Cloud woke up screaming.

Zack, who had become a light sleeper after the all the mess started, happily woke up at the sound of knocking echoing on his quarter at the dead of night. He wandered to open his door, finding Cloud stood there, grabbing his nightshirt as soon as the door opened, with tears streaked his smooth, delicate face.

Sighing, Zack pulled the blond inside and guided him to sit on his couch. Cloud didn't release his death grip on Zack's shirt, and Zack let him so. He pulled the now-younger boy to his arms, softly caressing the soft blond spikes.

"It's just a dream," Zack whispered soothingly, like how his mother had done to him as a child. "Just a nightmare, not real. It won't hurt us."

Of course it had been more than just a dream; what simple dream could reduce a person to this?

It was almost amusing to reflect that when those nightmares had been reality he—Sasuke, as he was then, may still be now—could never have held Cloud—Naruto, maybe?—like this. He'd been afraid, always so afraid, though he doubted anyone but Kakashi or Sakura had ever known it. He didn't know how to get close to anyone without hurting them, though in the end it didn't matter. It wasn't him that had killed Naruto, although it may as well have been.

Tears still rolled down Cloud's cheeks and Zack kissed them away as they fell, holding his own at bay. There was a time he'd have scoffed and turned away. There was a time tears had been a sign of weakness.

Having watched Naruto cry for his friends, cry for Sasuke, cry for everyone and everything that had ever conspired against him and yet never once shed a tear for himself, Zack didn't think he could equate tears with weakness any longer. Naruto had lived and died for everything he'd believed in, but not for himself—he'd made himself into a martyr, and for what? To save the humanity that was so bent on destroying itself? So that he could be forgotten by history, when in truth he was the only reason that the world still existed as it did?

Did that make him weak? Logic said yes—those that survived were the winners, and Naruto had died so very young. But Sasuke had been one of the survivors; he'd watched as his family and friends were lowered into the ground one by one, had been left behind by everyone he'd dared to care about. Perhaps those with no ties were the winners—they had nothing to lose, but Zack couldn't live like that, not now.

Gradually, Cloud quieted in his arms, though Zack held him close anyway. The reassuring rise and fall of Cloud's chest was interrupted only by the occasional broken sob, but he seemed calmer now, his hands earnestly pressing over Zack's heart to reassure himself that it was still steadily beating. Outside there was a distant clap of thunder, but the two boys (men) ignored it. It was surprising to Zack that he could be so comfortable with someone on his small, cramped couch—but having lost NarutoCloudNaruto once, he knew that he wouldn't be able to do it again. Maybe that made him idealistic, or foolish, or sentimental. He found that he didn't much care. Faintly, he thought that Angeal would be proud.

And, when both he and Cloud were teetering on the brink of sleep, eyelids too heavy to lift, limbs tangled and deliciously warm, Zack thought he heard Cloud sigh. His hot breath stirred Zack's hair for a brief moment and woke him just enough to hear what the boy had to say.

"Love you, Sasuke."

Zack really didn't want to lose him twice, so he would protect Cloud from anything on their path.

Be it Genesis, who was bent on curing his degradation and making desperate attempts which, sadly, collides onto their path. Be it Shinra Company itself, which had issued manhunt on them. Be it the Turks, or even Soldiers on their tail, he would protect Cloud.

Zack really didn't want to lose Cloud, but he didn't have any strength left to protect him. He was dying, and he knew it.

So he entrusted all that left on himself to Cloud.

He could still see the chilling emptiness on those blue eyes, but he knew that Cloud would manage. The spiky dobe was once a leader, after all.

Just let the emptiness to fill.

"—Did I become a hero?"

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