Each tree, after a while, became indistinguishable from the next, or from any other tree I had passed so far in the forest. In the end, they were all bathed in same moonlight and where ever that dull light did not taint, was swallowed by the drowning darkness, which seemed to penetrate every corner of this nightmare. It swept in and out of my peripheral vision, as a tide threatening to wash away the little resolve that I drew my energy to continue from.

A stark rush of agonizing pain shot through my side unexpected like a jolt of lightning. It was welcome in a way, I barely had the energy to flinch at its presence, that ability had been lost a couple of kilometers back; instead it served as the reminder that I was still alive. Though as it came to it, it would be much easier if I had died, it would have saved me this agonizing flight through the trees.

Where was the hope in no destination?

Where was the hope in travelling without a plan?

Where was the hope in walking to your death?

The mere whispers of the wind haunting through the trees in the ceaseless night served as my requiem.

I have no doubt, if I died here alone that no one would care in the least. Such is my life, lived in the shadows; a life lived in treachery, lies and deceit. Once I blessed night's dark protecting presence, for it smothered the screams of those whom my evil deeds would touch, in its murderous path.

What people often didn't realize is that night hid my screams of agony at the injustice too.

I'm not proud of who I am.

I'm not proud of what I've done.

Many people would call me the villain in the stories that will be told of my battles past, and in most respects they would be right. I did the dark deeds, thwarted all those who were good and came across as you're a-typical henchman, the henchman of the evil that came from Shinra, the corruption of our world.

Just because I fought for that side never meant I had those ideals, I never endorsed them. I was never in it for the politics. Instead I believed in my loyalty to the small free reining military group called the Turks which worked within the walls of Shinra. My loyalty lay there with my coworkers; the only family I have ever known. Because growing up, as I did as homeless child in the slums, family was a luxury none of us outcasts could afford.

No my interest in Shinra extended only to the amount they would pay. In the long run the all the job did was bring me unwanted hatred.

Funny how everything comes into perspective when you have no chance in hell of fixing it.

Which leads me to how I, fighter extraordinaire, managed to end up critically injured in the middle of nowhere. Long story short, I got injured in the fall of Shinra at the hands of a AVALANCHE that persistent Rebel group lead by 'the Savior of the world' leaving me to flee for my life, leaving the ruins of what I had behind.

I was, to my knowledge the last one left.

In stories, we hear about the goodness of the heroes, their purity and sense of justice. Yet in their victory they kill as much as the evil has in the progression of the tale, and yet they are still considered pure. It was one part of fairytale I had yet to comprehend.

A stronger spasm rampages through my vulnerable frame as I stagger onwards, determination failing with my hope.

Just get to the next tree, just that extra step, and it'll be okay.

But there is always another tree ahead, another identical tree to pass and besides even if someone found me, who would help? I couldn't save myself.

This was failure, the highest crime, I was dying whether I accepted it fully or not and death, well, death is failure. It is in the code of the Turks, which I've followed, albeit loosely, in my life. And to think the only rule in that entire code I could understand the basis of would be the one I would break:

Rule number 1: There is no pride, no sanctity in death. A dead Turk is a failed Turk.

I was destined to fail.

Until now the darkness and starlight had kept my mind away from the finality of surrender.

Surrender to the idea I had failed.

Surrender to the idea I would die.

It took a while for me to notice that the hand I clutched so religiously to my side was yet again bathed in sticky scarlet which stained my clothes and hands alike, coating and reinforcing the denigration that both already held.

The pain was hidden now; the tears that fell so freely had replaced its distraction, as I sunk into my own depression.

The night seemed to multiply in my vision, clouding it as my legs gave out in exhaustion.

Sleep was for the innocent, I thought mildly as I laid down to rest my head against a tree root closing my unseeing eyes, and I was far from that. Just for a moment, I could rest, but in my heart I knew it wasn't the case.

Save me. It cried out in its feeble beats my voice echoing the call.

Anyone?

Save me.

I was woken by the waves of warmth flowing over my broken and scrawny form, light from a flame dancing across the damp ground causing it crackle dry accompanying the occasional hiss issuing from the mesmerizing flames as the damp wood burned. What came as more of a shock, was someone is running their hands over, my still, quite tender wound, hitting that point where the reaction of pain sizzles to my brain.

"Oww, don't poke the god damned wound!" my mouth as usual was working faster than my brain and that little outburst was sure to scare of any potential help. But surprisingly the figure just chuckled.

I knew that chuckle all too well, "How did you find me?"

"Did you really think no one was going to notice the loudmouth red-haired Turk just vanished of the map? I've been tracking you."

I looked up surprised in the bright blue eyes of the supposed 'Saviour of the World' who sat beside me unafraid and unthreatened. He was the best sense of the word my antithesis, where I had no beliefs or morals, he had the world's; where I fought dirty, he fought clean even down to our very appearances, where he was blond haired and blue eyed, the very picture of innocence, and I was the fiery redhead with blue green eyes which reeked of something darker.

Staring wide eyed up at him what puzzled me was not why he was unafraid but why the hell was I still alive.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"If I'd wanted to kill you I could have let you wander to your death. The next town isn't for about… fifty kilometers? And judging by the amount of blood you'd lost early on, there was never any way you could have made it"

"I don't know," I bit suddenly angry, "You wanted the pleasure of doing this yourself?"

The blond haired man looked up at me softly "I didn't come to kill you."

"Then what?"

"I came to save you."

"Excuse me?"

"I have come to save you, simple as that. Did you really think I was going to let you die out here on your own?"

"We're enemies. You are supposed to want to kill me, to hate me, to let me die…"

He shook his blond head softy and gently moved my head so it rested in his lap in a reassuring way, "Something always struck me different about you, something in your eyes that made me stop and think. That's why I'm here."

I accepted his explanation, the fire in his eyes squashing any disbelief I had "And your little crew is okay with this?"

"They think I'm nuts."

"So how exactly do you plan this saving to be done?"

The stoic blond stared down at his companion, if they could be called that, biting his lip with obvious emotions, he had been concealing the entire meeting. "I came to save you, but…I- I-I can't."

My blood ran cold and all the hope fled with the night, which itself was speeding away above our very heads bringing away the magic of the dream and filling the forest with its harsh realities.

All for nothing, I couldn't be saved. There was no future for me.

I had resigned myself to death before, but his presence had filled me with new hope, a new song by which to walk, only to have it pulled out from under me violent and vicious.

"What?"

"The wound is infected and… I-I-I can't get you out of here fast enough, if I'd found you sooner…" He broke off and I was shocked to see that he shared my tears. My brain was working at a million miles an hour and what I said next surprised even me

"Put me to sleep."

"I can't!" He sounded shocked defensive and even disappointed all at the same time.

"Please"

"No"

"Just do it!"

"I can't kill you. No one else will die on account of me."

"I'M GONNA DIE ANYWAY!"

"I WON'T JUST LET YOU GIVE UP LIKE THIS!"

My voice shook with resolve and I could hardly register what I was saying, as the words flowed from my mouth my own fears exerted into every syllable, "Just let me go. I spent hours, walking through this forest, in pain. I just want it to end. I don't want to have to fight any longer. Let me die."

"Compromise," he whispered shakily "I have an herb that will put you in a coma like state- you can sleep to death. No pain, I promise"

"Fine," I hissed rather harshly "I don't want the pain. Just promise me one thing." He looked up from where he was fiddling with a backpack; as if he wanted to do anything but look at me. I could tell this was the last thing he wanted to witness, let alone commit himself.

"Yes?"

"Don't leave me."

"I won't. The herbs should start working soon…you have about thirty seconds." I found the energy to smile weakly at him and he returned it though it didn't reach his eyes.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One."

The daybreak took away the magic of the masked dream, where in that lonely forest the last of the Turks took his final breath, his body slowly loosing its warmth and vibrancy, in the arms of a silent blond whom he had called his enemy.

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Disclaimer: I do not own either or any of these characters…. I wish I did