AN: a lead up of sorts, to the moments before the beginning of Advent Children. I don't own any of the characters, as you can tell from the abundance of clothes they have and the lack of crazed sex (only men with unbelievable hair can have) in the games and movie.

A Year Prior to the Events of Advent Children

Dust lifted in a series of fast blown torrents under the shrieking wheels of the Fenrir. The clouds dispersed slowly as a streak of uplifted dirt led a straight path to Midgar. Cloud adjusted his goggles, face set grim against the skin stripping winds of the barren outskirts. He had made the last delivery of the day hours ago, spending the time until this moment driving relentlessly in circles. Days and days had been spent in the same routine, driving aimlessly until the sky darkened. If there was any direction, it would have to be so in the opposite of Midgar and the people Cloud knew. The people who knew Cloud ,that kept calling, that kept trying to talk to him. The air around him had dried his lips and whipped at his hair, now a tangled mess of spikes and dust as he slowed down, drifting through the selectively empty streets and into the slums, coming to an abrupt stop. Had it been someone else, no doubt their back would have protested as they removed themselves from the bike, but Cloud showed no signs of discomfort as he made his way to the crumbling building before him.

At the entrance, sighing, Cloud leant his hands against the solid, wooden doors of the church. He felt the grooves underneath his finger tips, like the reading of a blind man. Another ritual finished as he leant forward, pushing the door open. His senses were met with the scent of flowers, wafting like a warm embrace that promised not only to surround him, but to linger. Her church. Cloud raised his eyes to witness the last light of the day falling through the broken roof as he crossed the room. The thudding of his shoes though loud did not managed to echo, already a familiar sound in the church, an addition to the light music of escaping winds and creaking furniture. The pews on either side of him in the dark appeared like a saluting army as Cloud halted; he was not alone.

Before him, leaning into a crumbling column, rested a solitary figure. The darkened shape of man, the cloak wisping behind him appeared organic and intangible in nature. An unnatural light emanated from the figures eyes, brighter in the darkness, the illumination beckoned him while at the same time the recognition made Cloud wish to escape.

"Vincent"

His voiced had cracked slightly, hoarse from neglect. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken more than two or three words at a time, even his deliveries had been made in silence when possible. He swiped his tongue across his dried lips as Vincent rose from the column and made his way towards him.

"Cloud"

They stood, a metre apart, both silent. Cloud knew better than to ask why he was there, Vincent would decided whether or not to explain himself. In fact, he was more comfortable in the silence between them; all the possible reasons for his visit, the inevitable conversations, made him anxious. After Meteor, everybody, or at least, the survivors, had made promises to stay in touch. There had been a brief moment of closeness, but eventually friendships had weakened, calls weren't returned and life had moved on. It seemed easy enough to explain, but it hadn't really been that simple. Tifa had remained close to everyone, keeping stable links between them, trying to engage Cloud, coax him back into normalcy. When she had realised her attempts at 'talking about it' only made him retreat further away, Tifa had left him a key for 7th Heaven, cupped his face with small, soft hands, and then left him to his own devices. It was Cloud who hadn't answered his phone, hadn't sought out anybody. Life had moved on around him, while he spent time driving away or hiding in a church. Vincent had disappeared too, but his vanishing had seemed more natural. In the six months since they had last spoken, he had remained exactly the same. Same heavy, concealing clothes. His skin was as white and ageless as always. Those eyes – which Cloud refused to meet- still burned like fading coals. Clouds eyes locked onto the light tresses of hair that escaped the multiple wrappings and cloak. It still amazed him, how it been the same shade as Zack's –almost- yet completely different. The silkyness swayed hypnotically, a complete opposite to the crazed spikes he had spent hours gazing at as a teenager. Despite the differences, Vincent's hair reminded Cloud of Zack's, and Cloud could almost feel how it use to be, to pull the strands between his fingers. His hand twitched, breaking him from his reverie.

Vincent's rigid stance and sculptured features in the fading light gave the appearance of a statue; unwavering. Cloud crossed his arms over his chest, sighing dejectedly in preparation for the possible confrontation lying in wait.

"I thought you would want an update. There have not been any large signs of trouble from-"

" I told you, I'm not responsible for anything anymore. I'm not… I just make deliveries now" he knew it sounded ridiculous and for a moment he felt an intense brush of shame. The flush never reached his face, he couldn't let Vincent see his weakness; he wouldn't let himself be swayed.

"You're better than that Cloud"

"Better than what? Better than carrying boxes?" Cloud crossed his arms tighter, digging his nails into the fabric as he tried to control the uncharacteristic anger he felt rising. His left arm twinged under the pressure, as Vincent continued.

"You know better than to try and run away"

The voice was neutral, but Cloud couldn't help feel as if a sanctimonious speech was seconds away.

"I'm not running away. I keep telling you, I'm not needed anymore. There's no point playing hero, no point fighting. I'm done with it." Cloud turned away, taking a seat on a pew. He refused to look at Vincent, but his skin rippled uncomfortably underneath his clothes, the burning eyes penetrated the dark and held him captive.

"Your friends still need you"

Clouds words came out in a wisper, fluttering delicately as he struggled to remain still. If he ran, Vincent would only follow him, relentlessly. He needed to keep calm, remind everyone he was okay, that he didn't need help.

"They don't need me."

"Yes, they do."

His head dropped, falling into his hands as rested his elbows on his knees.

"How could anyone possibly need me, unless they actually wanted to die. They're better off without me…"

"And you're better off being a delivery boy?"

Cloud found himself raising his voice, becoming hoarse again; the scratching in his throat oddly enough seemed to match the feelings inside as his mind was overcome by memories. Inside his head, they were dying a thousand times over, their eyes searching for his, pleading and shocked and laughing and fading.

"Yes, okay, YES! I couldn't protect them as a SOLDIER," he sneered at himself in disgust "what good did that sword ever do? Just brings death anyways. If they're not around me, they can't get hurt. It's me, you know. I'm what gets them killed."

"If you want to protect your friends, you'll stop this façade. You're hurting yourself Cloud."

Cloud gripped his hair violently, hoping the physical pain would release him from the onslaught of scenes playing on in his head. He knew it was a disservice to forget them, but remembering hurt more than any fight could. Zack and Aeris would remain eternally youthful in his mind, haunting forever. The unbearable ache of the past was smothering, all encompassing. Cloud couldn't bear to erase them, to go a night without dreaming of a smiling, First Class Zack with Buster Sword in tow. Or Aeris with a flower -not nearly as delicate or as beautiful as the angel embracing it- held between her nurturing, life sustaining hands. He wouldn't let them leave, but he couldn't go on living, having to wake and remember they were dead. Further away then he was allowed to follow.

Vincent stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take hold of Clouds own trembling hand.

"Death is cruel. Your life has been cruel. But you need to open your eyes and come back to us. You may think that they are waiting for you in the life stream, but first, there are people here, waiting for you in life."

When given no response, Vincent lowered his voice.

"This isn't what Zack would have wanted"

Cloud pulled his hand away sharply.

"Get out"

Vincent withdrew his hand, the pain in Clouds voice fueling the embers in his eyes.

"I said get out!"

Vincent stepped back; shrinking away from the shaking figure crouched below him. Silently, like a wraith, his cloak rippling in a non existent wind, he disappeared into the darkness.