Standard Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, have no right to abuse them as
I do, and certainly couldn't claim that I make oodles off of this. Squaresoft
are the lucky bastards in question, and my bank account reads a pitiful
"$12.38". Suing would be a pointless endeavour I assure you.
Upon Reflection
by Moira
Some
things were better left forgotten. Held quiet in a box with chains, under a
cloak of haze, and put away next to never. Some things couldn't just be left
alone though.
It
never came with the sense that anything was amiss. A man should be able to
trust his instincts, be warned, be wary.
That supernatural awareness, honed by countless battles and staved with
science couldn't predict a reoccurring pattern of dread and helplessness. He
wondered if perhaps, on some unconscious level, he called forth these events.
Invited them in and savored that bitter metallic odor of blood that always
accompanied them.
And
a fool ever commits the same blunders, he thought morosely.
Running
a gloved hand through blond spikes he bit his lower lip and looked around.
The
craggy peaks of Gongaga framed a colorless sky, cloudless, shapeless and
watchful. There was snow on the ground, thick and unyielding as he fought to drive
a path forward. His legs ached with the effort of plowing aside thigh-high
drifts. Ahead of him he could barely make out the branching path: One towards
the village, one towards the graveyard.
He needed
no help choosing which path he was going to take. Angling to the right he made
his way on towards the village, the red scarf fluttering around his neck.
Gongaga, he thought dully. I
used to live here. The gloved hand
returned to its restless movements through the fine hair. A pain seemed to
spread lightly from the base of his neck to the joints in his knees. He
stumbled and suddenly brought himself up with a sharp jerk. No! Eyes,
bluer than a summer tempest narrowed. No… He lived here! I was… I am…?
Something
physical beat at his back, and he stifled a gasp. Turning he saw a snowy white
owl, huge eyes framed with ash toned feathers, thrashing its wings as it
hovered eye level with him. He stared at it, his mind not completely up to
speed with events. The bird continued to flail in midair, shedding feathers
like snow. With snow. It had begun snowing again.
Unable
to speak he reached out a hand, palm down, fingers spread. Tucking his chin
down, eyes glued onto the bird, he whistled. Clear and true the note rang among
the hills. He offered his arm and the
giant bird settled there, as if it were as natural as lighting on a tree
branch. The 'branch' quavered but held under the weight, its owner in as much
awe as confusion.
It
had seemed so natural. The gesture, the signal.
He
turned his glowing mako eyes to wide, staring black orbs. They held commune
without speaking. The unvoiced question leveled between man and beast.
The
owl cocked it head to side in similar query, unwilling or unable to answer him.
As
the snow fell about them, it seemed as though the world had narrowed, and been
confined to the space of a mere 20 by 20 feet.
An area of nothing, offering nothing, and waiting.
A
lot like Midgar now, he thought.
Cloud
closed his eyes, and let flakes settle on his nose and pile on the lashes. He
was beginning to feel warm and drowsy. A needle-like pain was settling into his
arm but he ignored it, favored the solidness of the bird's weight and the
reassuring pressure of the snow against his thighs. Again, the same pain bit at
his arm. He opened his eyes. And found them drawn downward.
Snow.
Snow and blood. Blood sinking inexorably into the white, steam rising off the
depreciating splotches. Dispassionately he watched them fall, like so much
time.
The
owl began beating its wings again, claws still affixed to his arm, blood
welling between the talons.
He
looked up at the bird, confused, like a child lost. Uncertain, then angry. He
wasn't sure where it came from, but he embraced the spur of…resentment? For a
bird? And the wrath distorted his features into terrible fury. Unbridled,
unwarranted for the situation, even when his blood was mixing with the earth.
"Let
GO!!!" He shouted, flinging his arm up. The owl wouldn't be dislodged that easy
and it held on tenaciously.
He
pivoted back on his foot and pitched the shoulder of the arm the bird was
clinging to forward. The bird was literally thrown forward by the force of the movement.
It came back at him, claws barely missing his right eye. He faltered backwards and sank deep into the
snow, eventually coming into contact with something hard and unyielding. It was
no great impact, but the collision jarred his teeth and they clacked painfully
onto his tongue. More blood dotted the pristine snow.
Cursing
Cloud rolled over and facedown, saw what he had landed on. Frozen water. Ice.
The entire ground seemed be made up of a frozen body of water. But there were
no lakes in Gongaga.
On
his knees now, he brushed angrily at the moisture in his eyes, and smeared the
red covering his lips so that it streaked back over the high cheekbones and
into the hair, where it turned orange. A few drops escaped and fell softly on
the ice with an inaudible plip.
He
was just beginning to rise when a flash of color caught his eye.
Blue,
like deep indigo.
He
bent over, straining to see through the building snow and brushed it aside.
Again,
dark blue, and this time something far lighter. Pinkish really.
Pressed
so close that his nose was cooling against the surface of the lake, Cloud
stared harder.
And
cobalt blue eyes stared back.
With
not so much a scream, but a strangled gasp, Cloud threw himself backwards from
the spot he had cleared. The eyes remained where they had originated, open and
expectant. Unblinking beneath the ice.
A
wave of queasiness robbed him of any strength, and so he sat sprawled in the
cushioning blanket of snow, moisture seeping through his jacket and similarly
indigo blue jersey. Chest heaving, breath so short there wasn't enough to
crystallize in the air, he thought he might hyperventilate. Dizziness played
between his temples. He tried to sit up, found that it moved him fractionally
closer to the eyes, and scooted backwards on his butt like a baby not quite
able to walk yet. The parallel between the respective helplessness wasn't lost
on him either.
Inexorably
though, his gaze was brought back to bear on the mystery beneath the glassy
plane.
There
was movement from the figure below and Cloud thought surely his heart would
give out. Already it radiated a crushing pain with each beat. And then there
appeared hands.
Long
fingered, strong and pale, they felt along the barrier separating them from
open air. The eyes continued to stare forward sightlessly.
Cloud
began to shake uncontrollably as the hands began using the surface to nudge the
upper torso closer to where he huddled. The pads of the fingertips were tinged
with blue and they pressed against the ice for traction. He could make out the
semblance of a face now, white, white skin, framed by long strands of black
hair. The lips moved, but of course, the sound was lost.
Another
movement, from above, was a welcome distraction. It was the owl again.
Fluttering downward, it settled onto the ice right on top of where the face
floated, silent in its decent. A few feathers had come loose again, littering
the surface with fluff and the molted gray of the innermost down. The bird
looked down, eyes studying the figure below. It glanced up at Cloud, and
repeated that curious gesture; head cocked to one side, questioning. The young
man shook his violently as he thought he caught the meaning in those expressive
eyes..
The
bird peered at him intently for a moment more, then with a sharp rap, brought
its beak to bear on the ice.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
Cloud
gaped in open mouth horror. He saw the hands flex again. Heard more sharp
rappings.
He
licked his cracked lips.
"No."
Tap.
Tap. Crack.
"No!"
he said hoarsely, and a bit louder.
The
bird looked up, and a blue eye swam closer to the surface. Cloud recoiled, but
motor skills had fled him for saner ground.
Tap.
Crack. Tap. Tap. Crackle….
Jagged
rifts began to spider throughout the glacial surface. The colorless hands
drifted back up towards the face. They traced the design of splintering ice,
nails lingering on a particularly large fracture. Water began seeping through
some of the bigger fissures. It pooled around Cloud's booted feet, not wetting
the skin, but sucking in heat nonetheless. The hands withdrew and the owl took
flight on premonition's wings.
And
then they pushed.
Water
gushed forth from the hole. A geyser of clear, taintless, liquid. As beautiful
as it was slowly killing the young man who sat stupefied in the middle of it.
The
bare outlines of a face made surface. Mouth wide, more water escaping. Hands
veritably clawing at the sides but unable to make purchase.
"Clou-gurgle!"
Again,
the head thrust clear of the water and this time those blue eyes, now more the
color of the water than anything, fixed on the man across the divide. A man who
could do no more than stare back in abject horror as he recognized the other.
"CLOUD?!"
The black-haired man managed at last, until he slipped back beneath the ice,
the water sealing over his head with a kind of finality.
There
was a desperate kind of pause. The break in action where reality seems
altogether too real, and too sharply in focus.
The
water sucked at his knees, and the first misgivings about the already damaged
ice taking his weight seemed to occur to him. He moved cautiously, painfully as
the muscles seized up and spasmed. Squeezing his eyes shut he began to back
away from the hole. Began to save himself. But then he stopped. Zax. Zax was
still under there. And Zax had been dead for over a year now. Shot to death.
Bang bang. Leaking like a kiddy pool with holes in it. The thought seemed
ludicrous enough for him to laugh, but it came out like a whimper. He couldn't
leave him. Not like before. Not to the planet and the lifestream.
Cloud
halted and turned his drooping head back to the hole.
I
need him,
he thought with futility. I need him to be him. Not me. Not me-him. Why am I…?
"Zax?"
He
began crawling back.
The
ice had pushed up in several places, sharp and unyielding to human hands. Even
gloved ones. Pink blood began to mix with the water.
Still
crouched on hands and knees he edged out as close as he could to the gap. He
leaned forward, the blond hair, already wet and partially frozen, dipping into
the water.
He
couldn't see him. There was no tell tale black hair, or glint of metal on a
studded belt to give away the position. Only a dull blue, wide and deep.
He
took a shuddering breath and sunk his arm in up to the elbow. This time he did
scream, but bit down on it, cutting it off before it really got started. There
was no threshold. Humans, especially mako-enhanced SOLDIERS didn't have the
capacity to shut down when something hurt. Even when something hurt to the
point of blacking out. It just didn't come. JENOVA staked her influence in
every cell that struggled to maintain feeling as the cold sought to numb it. So
he dipped in further to the shoulder and ignored the fresh flow of blood
dribbling down his chin.
Something
soft tangled in his groping fingers. Startled he almost withdrew. The soft mass
swirled about his outstretched hand, thick and long. With a cry of triumph he
grasped the hair and pulled. It was harder than he imagined. He had no leverage
save up, and adding weight to the ice was sending warning signals to every
nerve in his body that wasn't already occupied with other kinds of pain.
Grunting
he slid on his belly backwards, trying to drag the net of hair with him.
Tinkling sounds filled the air
punctuated by breathless cursing.
He
had him. Triceps straining, and face so low to the ice that water was seeping
up his nose, he gave another wrench and the head was drawn free.
The black hair, longer than Cloud remembered it, hung
without shape around a pale face. His chin now rested on the edge, the lips a
molted blue and the eyes bearing faint bruising underneath. One arm moved
sluggishly until it too lifted clear of the water and rested on the ice flow.
Cloud released the hair and grasped him by the shoulder harness.
"Zax?"
The
lids fluttered and the face became a bit more animated. When the blue lips
parted more water streamed out, and the words weren't marked by steam as
Cloud's were.
"Cloud…"
"What
are you doing here?! How are you-"
"Because
I'm not," he managed with a cough.
"What?"
"This
isn't real."
Wasn't
real? The pain flooding his nerve ends, the irritating way his hair got into
his mouth, the man he had a secure grip on… It had to be, or else why did the
ache in his heart hurt worst of all?
"But-"
The
head jerked up and Zax looked him square in the face with those colorless, once
blue eyes.
"I'm
dead. You know that. I'm dead and if you stay here you risk it too."
"You
can't be! Why am I holding you up then?! You were drowning, trapped-"
Zax
sighed. "Cloud. Let me go."
"What?
You'll d-"
"I
won't. I'm dead already."
"No.
I left you once before. I won't do it again. Not again…"
The
black-haired man's expression softened. "Cloud. It wasn't your fault. There was
nothing either one of us could have done differently. It was a certain outcome, and I still think we beat the odds. You made
it out alive. Don't waste it. Let me go."
"I can't." The blond man lowered his head, wet
bangs obscuring his face. "Why are you here if you're dead then? Why am I here
for that matter? I don't remember coming to Gongaga."
"Because this is a dream."
"But you said I was risking my life here. You can't
die in dreams."
"No, you can't. But some things will kill you on in
later life."
"What do you mean? If this is a dream then there's
nothing here that will-"
Zax frowned, a fine line drawing both brows
together. "Listen to me Cloud. You are your own man. You've forgotten a lot,
but what you've built with your friends, your future… That's all you."
"So many things were built on lies though," Cloud
said. "For a long time, I wasn't me. I was you, or at least what I remembered
of you. It was that 'Cloud' that killed Sephiroth and held the team together.
Not me."
Zax shook his head, the fine droplets retreating
back to the water. "Completely wrong." "What happened after that swim you took
in the lifestream and the coma that followed? Tifa sitting by your side, and
when you came out of it? Who was that?"
"That was… It was me, but-"
"What was it like to fly on the Highwind later on?
I mean really fly? To stand on the deck and see the world laid out below you?"
Cloud searched his memory and grimaced, not liking
the rolling sickness that reminded him of days much earlier back in ShinRa, on
trucks, with the General watching.
Zax seemed pleased with the expressive answer
though and pressed on.
"Or in the sub when you were chasing after Huge
Materia?"
"I get the point," Cloud said a bit sharply. "So I
remembered how much I hated heights, and being stuck in small places, or even
that the only friends I had back when were Chocobos. I never liked those
memories Zax. I wish I hadn't remembered."
When Cloud finally brought his head up to finish
the statement he was surprised to see anger, and not just a bit of fear in
Zax's face. He thought he heard a tell tale crack
too, though it was too faint to be sure.
"Let's
cut the crap Strife." His once superior officer had replaced the friend with a
strong presence of authority. And he never used Cloud's last name unless he was
angry. "All of this leads somewhere, and I want something to be very clear. You
can't live another man's life. You have to figure out living on your own, build
up the strength and character I knew you had, or else I never would have
bothered speaking to you in the first place. Mooching off another personality
isn't just hell for the psyche, but for the other guy too. Believe me, I know.
You asked me why I was trapped here, wherever here is. Let me go Cloud. Do it
before you drown us both."
If
anything the younger man's grip tightened on the harness. "I won't," he said.
"I can't leave you to this. You didn't deserve it, don't deserve it. I can pull
you out! I know I can!" But even as he spoke the words his muscles quivered in
protest and the lethargy seemed to gain a stronger hold on his aching body.
There was a louder popping sound this time, followed by a building symphony of
splintering ice.
Zax
looked frantic, desperate. "Cloud! Let go! Hurry!"
The
blond shook his head vehemently. "No!"
"Goddammit
Strife! Listen to me! You have to-"
Beneath
his knees and elbows Cloud felt a shudder, then nothing. The support was no
longer there and he dropped into the cold without a sound to mark the fall.
Blue
and white beat at him mercilessly. He closed his mouth in time to avoid
swallowing but water forced its way into his nose and he began choking. He had released
Zax's shoulder guard before he realized it and now he floated alone.
Hopelessness welled into the pit in place of fear, and a biting loneliness,
much sharper than the water's touch. He moved his head from side to side and
tried to get his legs to work. Reluctantly they kicked, but it was barely
enough to hold his position instead of sinking further down. He contemplated
not moving at all, but it seemed he no resolve except to remain where he was.
It was a lot like being in the lifestreamin in that sense. He hadn't wanted to
leave there either except for that one reason that drove him to continue in
those days. Sephiroth. He had no purpose now it seemed, and so he stayed. There
were no voices this time, no presence, and the liquid certainly wasn't warm or
living. The quiet was overwhelming in its absolute entirety.
Closing
his eyes wasn't much different from keeping them open underwater, so he shut
them and wondered how long his breath would last. Whorls of lights were already
streaking paths behind the eyelids. He gave a mental sigh. What would it be
like to die? He had already died once, he reflected. That day was marked most
clearly in his mind. Five years ago, running, and half the time not knowing
friend from foe. Zax had learned the hard way to be cautious of him when the
dementia of Hojo's experimentation took hold. He flushed pink even surrounded
in freezing liquid at that memory. If he were alive today Zax would bear a
three-inch burn from a poorly shot revolver. At least then, even crazy, he had
thought he knew what to do.
Letting
his arms drift away from his sides he reflected that, only a week after their
escape, and not long before that fatal day, Zax had already begun to rebuild
him from the ground up. His own past was too painful and too incapacitating to
be of any use. Zax had taken the time between breaks, not to invent a history,
like he himself had adopted, but to remind him of the good things about him.
Suspended
and weightless, Cloud still found it possible to snort in amusement. He could
even hear Zax coaching him in his mind.
Remember
your first day of training Cloud? You were nervous, that was easy to tell, but
you just kept going. You must have dropped that rifle 10 times, but by the end,
no one did those moves better than you.
The
cheerful voice continued to reminisce.
That
fight with the other recruits…that was bad news, but I'll be damned if I didn't
see more of them with black eyes and blood than you. You were a scrapper kid,
and a good one at that.
A
hand strayed to his own closed eyes, felt the ghost of bruises. A smile for the
memory.
You
know Cloud, when Hojo had us in those tubes, some days talking to you was the
only thing that kept me sane. I probably know more about your life than you.
In
his mind's eye he could picture the taller man grin and place a hand on his
shoulder.
Me
and you Cloud. We'll go far. Get away from all this and start again. New lives
for the both of us! What do you say?
If
it were possible to leak tears underwater for a friend gone past, he would
have. As it were though he could only clench his hands in spent grief, and as
his legs ceased to respond to mental commands he began to sink inexorably
towards the blackness that spread below him.
With
a gentleness borne of patience and care, a pair of hands settled beneath his
armpits and lifted. He found himself rising back to the surface even as the
dead air escaped from behind his lips in a rush of bubbles. Lolling his head on
one shoulder he could feel something tickle his chin and opening his eyes saw
black. When his head broke the surface he hardly remembered to breathe and
regretted doing so after he discovered a lake's portion of liquid had taken up
residence in his lungs. Choking and shaking he made a weak grab for a handhold
up onto the ice. There was another gentle push and he slid onto the flow, toes
still dangling into the water.
"I
think it will hold now," Zax said from water level.
Cloud
flopped onto his back and gurgled a reply.
The
dark haired man smiled slightly. "You're welcome."
"…wait…"
"I
can't."
Cloud
half rolled, half dragged himself back to the edge, water dragging at his
clothing and hair.
"Please…don't
go. I think I understand, but where do I go from here? What am I supposed to do
now?"
Zax
grinned even as he glanced behind him, eyes drawn to a point far off in the
distance.
"I've
been here for a long time Cloud. You'll never be without a part of me, and we
may never meet like this again, but I will be around. Watching, waiting for
when you need help. But, if you just stay true to the person you've become,
regardless of all this shit we've been through, you will go far. I've always
known that."
"I
have no purpose Zax. There's no Sephiroth, no reason for me to be."
"Since
when has anyone needed a reason for living? For exisiting? That's up to the
Planet, not you or I. For Holy's sake Cloud, what about your friends? I know
they care about you, and one in particular would be lost without you."
Garnet
eyes suddenly filled his vision and a carefree laugh, like someone who knows
what the shapes the clouds are really in.
Pain
still lingered in the younger man's blue eyes though. He swallowed, and Zax
held up a hand.
"Everyone's
gotta make their own mark. You remember that talk we had way back when?
Everything is fresh Cloud. You've been you for a long time now too. You
don't need me, and you certainly don't need a Sephiroth to dictate your goals.
Be what you've been. Your friends didn't hang around because you carry a big
sword. They trust you. Learn to trust in yourself."
Cloud
stretched out a gloved hand, retracted it, and looked at it fixedly for a
moment.
Zax
watched him carefully, hope for a friend framing the widening smile.
The
blond man drew in a breath and let it go without faltering. He balled up the
fist and then relaxed. When he finally looked at Zax, it had turned to a wave,
with the faintest of smiles lifting the gloom.
Something
seemed to occur to Zax and it made his eyes glint with humor. Something
familiar as morning exercises and a personal routine between them from better
days.
He
made a curious gesture, like a half salute. "S'okay?"
Cloud
stared for a moment and then returned the dismissal with his own wry,
"S'alright."
Zax
nodded and turned away, then dipped back beneath the water and disappeared from
sight.
* * * * *
He
woke with something of an ache and hair slept into the shape of Glacier Inn's
ski slope. Rubbing the spot of tension between his eyes he swung a leg over the
side of the bed and straightened. The morning sun snuck through cracks in the
shutters over the window and cut swathes of light through the relative darkness
of his room. His internal clock informed him that it was just approaching 8:00.
He could even hear the clink of pans in the kitchen below. Tifa making
breakfast.
Getting
up he stretched high, unknotting the kinks in his neck and back. The scent of
frying bacon wafted up from the downstairs. He closed his eyes and savored it.
It smelt like heaven and he had a feeling a lot of things were going to be like
new to him for a time. Fresh and familiar all at the same time.
Barefooted
he padded over to the window and unlatched the shades. Parting them so that the
sun could make its full entrance he leaned out and let the breeze play with his
hair. It would be another hot day, but a tolerable one if the wind stayed its
course. He might even take Pheros out for a pleasure run, if Tifa wanted to
join him.
Ducking
back into the room he glanced at the large, broad bladed, Buster sword as it
lay propped against a wall. The sun collected there and bounced off its keen
edges, wreathing it with rainbows where light hit the materia embedded in the
handle. He stared at it and worked a hand through the knots in his hair, then
retreated to the dresser where he pulled on pants over his underclothes and a
light shirt for day work.
Tifa
called from the stairs and he slipped on his boots before heading to the door.
Grasping the handle firmly he looked back at the sword and seemed to muse upon
something for a time. Long enough for Tifa to send up another questioning, Cloud?
He
shook his head lightly and said, "I'll try. I'll try and I'll remember. My word
on it Zax." With a mocking sort of salute and a grin he left the room, one word
echoing up the stairs afterwards, for someone who undoubtedly heard, wherever
he was.
"Luck!"
