My first attempt at…

FF7 fic. Recent addiction, obsession whatever term you may deem this fascination. Thanks to dude, Ron Michael Olaguera, for introducing me to the FF7 world.

Yaoi fic. Still in denial. I don't like yaoi. Hmmm, er, with a few exceptions. This is one. Curse you Nefarious Bastard for bad influence. The world's getting so gay.

Rated M fic. Fanfic people influence other people.

Finishing a multi-chapter fic. Er, (looks away, scratches head) good luck.

Different style of writing. (Insert comment here).

Disclaimer: I own FF7… in my head (dodges Cloud's sword, "that's my line!") (sticks out tongue) (Zack appears, raises eyebrows) (shiver, shiver) Fine! Don't own them. Just this freaking story.

Rated M for future Mness.

Reincarnation

By: atrophy-7

Chapter One - Recollection

There was a celebration in the stricken land of Midgar. A certain tranquility loomed the ruins after the passing danger. The orphans and ex-SOLDIERS and AVALANCHE members bathed in the pool of rainwater healed momentarily of conflict and disease – the geostigma disease. Cloud Strife looked around seeing the happiness etched on the faces of the people surrounding him. The garden of fragrant flowers, though nearly destroyed accentuated the sheer beauty of the scene.

His eyes lingered on the gate upon seeing a figure. A dream, vision or illusion, whatever it was made his eyes widen. There she stood… Aerith.

"You see. Everything's alright." She smiled.

He missed that smile. It was bright and infectious. Hope radiated from her and after the longest of time, he felt at peace with himself and with the world that was once cruel to him. The world where he was once sad and hurting and alone—

"I know" he murmured, the others oblivious to him. "I'm not alone."

Splashes of water. Laughter. Chatter.

"Not anymore."

Aerith turned around and disappeared in the haze of a bright divine light.

A small smile graced his usually stoic face, the sadness in his eyes lightening a bit. He looked around again, the shadow of a smile growing and growing until it became genuine. He was no longer alone. He had friends.

Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friend—

"We're friends, right?"

The smile fell.

"Cloud, run!"

-------

Beep. Beep. Beep.

There was nothing else heard but the beeps and clicks of machine and a faint intake of breath.

In the middle of the room lied a young man in his sleeping form with various wires attached to his pale muscled body. Jet black hair framed his emotionless face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

How he came to be in that predicament, he was not sure. Or at least, he was still oblivious to it as his slumber continued. They found him, on the brink of death, with only a faint, almost inaudible heart beat threading his life to the world. It was the thinnest of strings, but it was there, binding him to life. No matter what his condition was, he was still alive. And so, they took him and treated him to the best of their abilities.

With any means necessary.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

On the man's wrist was a tag that was the only indication of his identity. His hand jerked. His body shifted slightly. His lids fluttered, revealing bright blue eyes.

After three long years of unconsciousness, he woke up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

SOLDIER First Class,

Zack.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

-------

There was a blur of sounds.

Swords. Guns. Helicopters. Battle screams. His screams.

It sounded familiar, a certain warmth clinging despite the chill of a seemingly distant fight.

He turned his head, forcing his eyes to see and search for the source of the familiar voice. He couldn't. His vision was hazy, even colors were indistinct.

Panting of breath. Gunshots.

Clinks of swords.

This went on to what seemed like forever to him. Not that he was aware. He was only slightly conscious. Very slightly conscious. But even in such a state, he could discern the pregnant silence that then dawned upon him so suddenly.

A strange drive flowed inside him. His vision slowly began to clear. It was still blurry, but there was an improvement. He was even momentarily stunned by the colors and the light that have longed been denied in his vision.

One particular color stood out from the field. Red.

Blood red.

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood—

"Cloud…" a faint hoarse whisper against the wind.

The man who called out staggered and fell to the ground.

Cloud's vision cleared. He crawled towards the fallen SOLDIER, using every bit of strength he had.

(We're friends, right.)

"Zack…"

(Cloud…)

The man smiled up at him.

"For the both of us… you're gonna… live."

(…run!)

"ZACK!"

-------

Cloud shot up from his bed, his throat sore from screaming. He was drenched in cold sweat. A nightmare.

No. A memory.

He shook his head and buried his head in his hands. He was strangely out of breath. Even as he struggled inhaling and exhaling, his lungs never did fill up. No intake of breath could satisfy him.

His entire body shivered, drained of all strength.

Again, he attempted to breathe. No such luck. He hugged his knees and sat curled on the bed, still shaking, still devastated, still pained.

The pain he welcomed. Call him a masochist but the pain did not bother him, not as much as the—

Guilt.

He threw his covers and got off the bed towards the bathroom.

He gripped the sink tightly for dear life. He splashed cold water to his face, rigorously rubbing, as if invoking consciousness, awakening or…

Escape.

-------

Escape.

It was written all over his face. Years of practice had taught him how to read the man's expressions, even if he only saw his reflection through the bathroom mirror.

He had changed drastically. His lean body was now all toned and muscled but that didn't stop him from looking so fragile.

His hair was the same blonde spikes he used to make fun of. Those chocobo strands that made him look so innocent.

His features were handsome as ever but strained. It showed nothing but sadness in its purest state. Pain. Loneliness. Guilt.

It saddened him to think that this man – this friend – could suffer so much and it's all because of him.

Now who exactly should be guilty?

He continued his observations, captivated.

Blue eyes raised to look at the reflection. Cloud was almost scared to look in the mirror for fear that his own blue eyes would betray him. Would remind him of the man that he never wanted to lose. The man with the same shining blue eyes.

("You're my living legacy.")

Life was cruel.

Blue eyes stared at blue eyes. He knew it. The pang of the pain of reminder. But wait.

Man has one head, one mouth, one nose, two ears and two eyes. He saw four.

Blue against blue.

He turned around.

Blinked.

Breathed.

Shivered.

This had to be a joke, right?

("I'm just kidding.")

"Zack…"

Helicopter. Explosion. Snow. Country boy. Mako reactor. Gongaga. Nibelheim. Backwater expert. Assembly. SOLDIER. Hang in there. Dreams. Honor. Working again. Home. Nibelheim. Old friend. Good work. Issues. Sword. Representation. Crash. Fire. Screams. Blood. Battle. Mako. Experiment. Unconsciousness. Carried off. Freedom. Truck. Midgar. Money. Job. Everything. Joke. Never abandon friends. Friends. Gunshots. Pat in the head. Reaching out. Rain. Blood. Smile. Life. Legacy. Death. Zack—

"Cloud…"

SOLDIERS. Outnumbered. Battle. Sword. Guns. Wounds. Blood. Fall. Ground. Rain. Brink of death. Whisper. Name. Blue eyes. Thank you. Good night. Cloud—

Blue against blue locked on each other – ran to each other's arms.

-------

tbc

AN: There you go. Please review.

"For I see now that I am asleep that I dream when I am awake."

-Azrael Mikael