Well… I'm back again. Yes, instead of working on part 2 of Lost Souls, like I should be doing and have repeatedly promised myself that I would do, I have instead written another fic…
And this isn't even the right time to be writing stuff like this. It's right smack in the middle of the examination period. I've still got 4 exams to go… *sigh*
Anyways… I've seen so many fics on Tifa committing suicide and whatnot. So I just thought… What comes after? What happens to Cloud? Gee… I dunno.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Period. Squaresoft owns them. Eidos. Japan. Whatever. Sueing me will get you… well, nothing, 'cos I'm broke.
I like to think that this is done all right, but on overall I think it's pretty confusing. Ah well. See what you can make of it, okay? Reviews greatly appreciated.
Note: This is a deathfic. It is... freaky, probably, and potentially disturbing. Do not come flaming me if you suffer any emotional damage; you made a choice to read this, okay?
Oh, and as usual the title is totally inane...
::___Let it Go___::
The bar was cozily set, neatly tucked between a bridge and a small restaurant. From the outset, it barely looked like a bar; the glass doors were oiled and clean, and so were the windows. The mahogany counter was gleaming, the till in perfect condition. The marble floor was spotless. The tables bore no signs of stains, and the cutlery was polished till it shone.
It had a homey feeling to it, and perhaps that was a reason why so many people frequented it. Of course, the sinfully delights served could have something to do with it, as well as its reputation for cheap food and drinks and a famous owner.
For some reason, it didn't have a name. The place was nondescript; there was no sign outside that announced what it was. Of course, nobody in the town needed a sign there; they did without it perfectly fine.
It was said that the bar was originally named Tifa's Seventh Heaven when it was in Midgar, and then again in Nibelheim, but nobody knew why it now had no name.
Tonight, though, the sign on the door read, "Closed."
He had an odd expression on his face, somewhere between nostalgia, melancholy and misery. He'd told himself that this was perfect, that this was great, that this was what he wanted, and he was ready. But as he stopped burying herself in lies, he realized, terrifyingly but not unexpectedly, that he wasn't prepared for this.
Too late now, he thought ruefully as a sharp rap came from the direction of glass.
"Yo, Spike! Open up already! This gatherin's supposed ta be for t'night, not nex' century!"
Sighing inconspicuously, he walked over to the door and unlocked it. A large figure tumbled into the room; a little girl perched on his shoulder, not so little anymore.
"Barret." He turned to the little girl, and the edge of his mouth tugged upwards slightly. "Marlene." Her hair seemed darker now, and richer, and it flowed down the eight-year-old's back, tied, at her insistence, right at the end with a worn old leather band. The eyes were wine-colored and cheerful, with a sparkle in them he had only seen in one other person before. The face was heart-shaped, the button nose perfectly placed above full, grinning lips. She looked frighteningly familiar.
"Uncle Cloud!" Marlene exclaimed happily, leaning forward for a hug.
His arms circled her small frame hesitantly, as if he were afraid to touch her. Then he released her, and the swinging door was pushed open again.
"Reeve." His tone was faintly surprised. "Weren't you in Midgar?"
The man shrugged and smiled. "How could I not come? Besides, you sent me that invitation just when I was planning to take a break, so…" He changed the topic abruptly. "Look who's here!" He indicated the door, and Red XIII padded in.
Cloud nodded slightly awkwardly to the red beast, and received a mirrored greeting.
There was a dead silence for five minutes, then Yuffie strode in.
"Yuffie," came four voices.
"Auntie Yuffie!" Marlene greeted her cheerfully.
"So, Yuff… Lady Kisagari now, eh?" Barret said in a desperate attempt at a jab at her. It failed miserably.
"…Stop it." Yuffie said in what was usually a happy tone, but was now flat.
Cid and Shera arrived next, subdued.
He gestured towards a large table, and they all sat around it.
The silence was deafening.
"Gods! Would someone &^%$)* say something instead of us all sitting here like scarecrows?" Cid barked.
Everyone remained silent.
There were two unfilled places at the table. At last somebody entered and sat down in one of the free seats.
…The other wasn't really meant to be filled.
"…Vincent. Didn't think you would come."
"…"
"I guess we had better start now, hadn't we?" Cloud made a half-hearted attempt at a smile.
"…"
He walked into the kitchen, Shera following, and they emerged with dishes of food minutes later.
It was terrible. Not the food itself, but the tension… Cid and Barret tried to eat, Shera and Marlene gazed up at the others and shifted back into their chairs without touching the dishes, Reeve and Yuffie shifted food around on their plates, Vincent sat stoically, observing the scene, and Cloud just stared dejectedly at his plate.
At last he pushed his chair back and stalked off.
Barret looked over at the wall and examined a picture of AVALANCHE directly after they had beat Sephiroth. They had all been overjoyed. Even Cloud was grinning and Vincent's lips were curved oh-so-slightly. Dammit, Cloud. Damn you. You and your freaking memories. You… He shook his head. No. It wasn't right to just blame Cloud.
No. But he needed somebody to blame. He needed somebody to hold against for the loss of comrades and love.
For Death.
*****
The night was one of those perfect nights with gentle breezes and happiness all around you that just made you have to hate it all simply because of its beauty.
Cloud Strife hated those nights. He had hated them since a new grave had been dug in the earth by the cliff, where he was sitting right now. He had hated them for the fact that they reminded him so much of a night in Nibelheim years and years ago, that he didn't want to remember, because it would just make the wound hurt more.
"Cloud."
"Vincent," he returned evenly without turning to look.
"… You miss her?"
Cloud smirked bitterly. "Do I look like it?"
"Very much so."
"It was my fault."
"…Yes."
He almost quirked an eyebrow at that. Not your typical answer from Vincent Valentine.
"I agree that it is your fault. But not just yours. It was everybody's fault. If you wanted to, you could attribute it to anybody and everybody. You. Sephiroth. JENOVA. Barret, Reeve, Cid, Shera, a passing villager, anybody. But you go on blaming yourself. You can never forgive anyone before you forgive yourself."
"I don't deserve forgiveness. I deserve death."
"And what if you do? Do you think that she would be happy to see you here like this? Or dead?" The normally quiet voice was sharp.
"Anything other than me here, with a life, when somebody I goddamn loved died just because I was too wrapped up in myself!" Cloud yelled.
"…You're a fool."
"I know."
"I'm a fool as well. For all those years ago in Nibelheim, for the project, for Lucrecia, for Hojo, and for the fact that for one moment I believed that you would go on with your life after this." Vincent finished coldly.
A short laugh. Bitter, pained. "We're all fools."
"…Then so be it."
With one last glance at blue eyes shining with more than just a Mako glow, he stalked back in.
*****
He had never before realized just how soothing Kalm's sea breeze was. It seemed so calm, as if everything would be all right.
And everything would be.
Two years ago, on this day, he had lost an elegant flower girl with ethereal green eyes.
A year ago, on this day, he had lost the woman he loved more than anything.
"I miss you…" He admitted. But what good did it do now? She was gone. His angel had gone. The seeds of hope planted in his heart whenever he had seen her had bloomed into flowers of desperation. /Why is it that… You can affect me so much, even after death?/
/It's not fair!/ He punched the bark of a nearby tree. "Why?" he ravaged, hitting the poor tree over and over again. "Why? You can't do this to me! You're not allowed to!" He leaned against the tree and slid to the leaf-littered ground.
And the sobs came.
He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had last shed tears. A day? A week? A month? He hadn't allowed himself to cry, telling himself that he was strong, that strong people didn't cry, that he could handle this; that everything was all right.
And all because of her.
Because she was gone.
Because he had forced her to be gone.
He cringed as the memories seeped into his mind, swirling in the cavities of his heart; memories of harsh words and the unwillingness to let go; memories of drowning in pain, pain in the form of a vision of emerald eyes, so close and yet so far…
But now she was gone, and he didn't just feel pain… He felt empty, numb, like a vortex inside him was draining the life out of him slowly, torturously.
And the worst part of it was, he knew he deserved it.
"You weren't supposed to die…" He whispered brokenly to the wind. "You were supposed to… always be there…" He buried his face in his hands. "Gods…"
A gust of wind, gentle, soothing. Reaching out to him, calling, whispering in a dance of tears and light.
Cherry blossoms, flower petals, floating with the wind, controlled unwittingly yet willingly, flying wherever the wind took it.
And he saw her.
Mahogany hair loose and billowing, wine-colored eyes infinitely understanding, lips curved into a gentle but somewhat wistful smile.
"Tifa…" the name escaped his throat hollowly, coated with pain and unshed tears accumulated from those long months. He hadn't allowed himself to speak that name for Lord knows how long. It hurt too much.
The figure kept smiling, her entire presence strikingly angelic.
That smile.
Unspoken promises.
That smile.
Concealed grief.
That smile.
A night, so many years ago, when the stars shone, each brighter than the next, and the brightest and most dazzling one had been right next to him, sitting by him on the well.
That smile.
An apology. A strand of hope. A desire, a rabid thirst to distinguish himself, to gain her support, to buy her love.
That smile.
/You'll come and save me, right?/
That smile.
Optimism in despair, supported only by strength of will, the recognition of the need of a spark of hope and happiness when all seemed lost.
That smile.
Always there, always present.
Sephiroth. Jenova. Hojo.
Always there, always present.
That smile.
And he had turned it away in the sheer disbelief that somebody who should be alive was dead.
That smile.
But smiles can't bring back the dead, and neither can tears. Neither can love, confused or inexistent, or just misplaced.
That smile.
"I love you, Tifa."
*****
"Spike!" Barret shouted. "Ge' back in! Yer food's goin' cold!"
"Cloud, you *&^$! Eat yer damn (&$# dinner!" Cid yelled in a voice that started out irritable - with an effort - but ended up just… sad.
"Cloud, where are you?" Reeve called.
"Hey, Cloud!" Yuffie said loudly. "C'mon!"
Red simply shook his head, sniffing on the ground as he did so. "This way." He padded off, sensing that it was unsafe to leave Cloud alone for long tonight.
Shera was inside with Marlene, talking to her while the others were out. Vincent… Vincent had disappeared somewhere; nobody was too surprised.
The small group walked briskly, the journey free of small talk; the silence was oppressing, eerie, almost.
Each second seemed to last for an eternity; each self-assurance seemed to be failing more and more miserably.
"Are you… sure he came this way, Red?" Yuffie asked slowly.
He didn't say anything, but as they reached the peak of the cliff, they saw Cloud walking along a path, reaching the end of it startlingly quickly despite his slow steps.
They stared.
"*&)#%," Cid swore softly. Cloud was climbing past the railing… to the edge of the cliff.
"Yo, Spike! What the *hell* do you think ya doin'?!" Barret started, only to be interrupted.
"Let him go," a quiet voice said.
Yuffie turned, startled. "Vincent! Where'd you come from?"
He didn't reply.
"Whaddya mean, let him go? He's about ta (*^%& kill himself!"
"We have to at least talk him out of it…" Reeve reasoned.
Even Red looked doubtful. "Vincent…"
Vincent stared out at the blond figure. "Look at him."
Cloud was staring out at the sea, a ghost of a smile just barely visible.
"Hell…"
"…He looks…"
"…happy…"
"…Gawd…"
The black-haired man looked thoughtfully out to Cloud. "He looks… at peace. He looks much happier than he has in a long time…"
"But-"
"He's happy to die," Red XIII cut in. "If his life now is misery…"
"We all want 'im to be happy," Barret broke in, "But…"
"He is happy," Vincent said abruptly. "He *wants* to die. If that will make him feel any better…"
Reeve's eyes downcast. "If he can't be happy in life… then… let him be happy in death."
Yuffie turned away, not letting anyone see the single crystalline tear that slid down her cheek. This was the leader of the group that had given her life again, given her something to really do for the world… the man that had persevered to the end… Was he just giving up now?
"Cloud, ya old idiot…" Cid said desperately. "Why?"
There was the sound of boots against sandstone.
Yuffie spun around, wide-eyed.
Vincent looked on silently.
Cid's mouth fell open, his cigarette dropping to the ground, the spark extinguished by the wind as it fell.
Reeve inhaled sharply.
Barret shook his head disbelievingly.
Red looked down sadly.
Without a sound, Cloud disappeared.
-- Epilogue --
The body washed up to shore two days later. It was in terrible shape, and Yuffie almost threw up after seeing it, despite the fact that she didn't have anything to throw up; none of them had eaten since that night.
Half the bones were broken, there wasn't much blood left. A portion of the corpse was too mangled to really be identified.
But his face could be quite clearly seen, and all that saw the body of the hero who saved the world commented on the smile on his face.
It was a familiar smile… calm, almost poignant, content, even.
AVALANCHE had seen it twice before this…
On the Cetra that saved the world…
And on the girl that saved Cloud Strife's soul.
-owari-
Yes. Strange, ne?
Anyway, if you like it, review, please. If you can't make head or tail of it… well… if it's of any comfort, neither can I. I just write. And I'm not a particularly… comprehendable person.
Yeah, the bit about sandstone. Sorry. Just had my geography exam. And just now I was writing a tribute essay before I realized that I was writing tribute tributuary. And a tributuary is a river-thinggi. Geez.
So. Review, please, please, please… okay?
And this isn't even the right time to be writing stuff like this. It's right smack in the middle of the examination period. I've still got 4 exams to go… *sigh*
Anyways… I've seen so many fics on Tifa committing suicide and whatnot. So I just thought… What comes after? What happens to Cloud? Gee… I dunno.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Period. Squaresoft owns them. Eidos. Japan. Whatever. Sueing me will get you… well, nothing, 'cos I'm broke.
I like to think that this is done all right, but on overall I think it's pretty confusing. Ah well. See what you can make of it, okay? Reviews greatly appreciated.
Note: This is a deathfic. It is... freaky, probably, and potentially disturbing. Do not come flaming me if you suffer any emotional damage; you made a choice to read this, okay?
Oh, and as usual the title is totally inane...
::___Let it Go___::
The bar was cozily set, neatly tucked between a bridge and a small restaurant. From the outset, it barely looked like a bar; the glass doors were oiled and clean, and so were the windows. The mahogany counter was gleaming, the till in perfect condition. The marble floor was spotless. The tables bore no signs of stains, and the cutlery was polished till it shone.
It had a homey feeling to it, and perhaps that was a reason why so many people frequented it. Of course, the sinfully delights served could have something to do with it, as well as its reputation for cheap food and drinks and a famous owner.
For some reason, it didn't have a name. The place was nondescript; there was no sign outside that announced what it was. Of course, nobody in the town needed a sign there; they did without it perfectly fine.
It was said that the bar was originally named Tifa's Seventh Heaven when it was in Midgar, and then again in Nibelheim, but nobody knew why it now had no name.
Tonight, though, the sign on the door read, "Closed."
He had an odd expression on his face, somewhere between nostalgia, melancholy and misery. He'd told himself that this was perfect, that this was great, that this was what he wanted, and he was ready. But as he stopped burying herself in lies, he realized, terrifyingly but not unexpectedly, that he wasn't prepared for this.
Too late now, he thought ruefully as a sharp rap came from the direction of glass.
"Yo, Spike! Open up already! This gatherin's supposed ta be for t'night, not nex' century!"
Sighing inconspicuously, he walked over to the door and unlocked it. A large figure tumbled into the room; a little girl perched on his shoulder, not so little anymore.
"Barret." He turned to the little girl, and the edge of his mouth tugged upwards slightly. "Marlene." Her hair seemed darker now, and richer, and it flowed down the eight-year-old's back, tied, at her insistence, right at the end with a worn old leather band. The eyes were wine-colored and cheerful, with a sparkle in them he had only seen in one other person before. The face was heart-shaped, the button nose perfectly placed above full, grinning lips. She looked frighteningly familiar.
"Uncle Cloud!" Marlene exclaimed happily, leaning forward for a hug.
His arms circled her small frame hesitantly, as if he were afraid to touch her. Then he released her, and the swinging door was pushed open again.
"Reeve." His tone was faintly surprised. "Weren't you in Midgar?"
The man shrugged and smiled. "How could I not come? Besides, you sent me that invitation just when I was planning to take a break, so…" He changed the topic abruptly. "Look who's here!" He indicated the door, and Red XIII padded in.
Cloud nodded slightly awkwardly to the red beast, and received a mirrored greeting.
There was a dead silence for five minutes, then Yuffie strode in.
"Yuffie," came four voices.
"Auntie Yuffie!" Marlene greeted her cheerfully.
"So, Yuff… Lady Kisagari now, eh?" Barret said in a desperate attempt at a jab at her. It failed miserably.
"…Stop it." Yuffie said in what was usually a happy tone, but was now flat.
Cid and Shera arrived next, subdued.
He gestured towards a large table, and they all sat around it.
The silence was deafening.
"Gods! Would someone &^%$)* say something instead of us all sitting here like scarecrows?" Cid barked.
Everyone remained silent.
There were two unfilled places at the table. At last somebody entered and sat down in one of the free seats.
…The other wasn't really meant to be filled.
"…Vincent. Didn't think you would come."
"…"
"I guess we had better start now, hadn't we?" Cloud made a half-hearted attempt at a smile.
"…"
He walked into the kitchen, Shera following, and they emerged with dishes of food minutes later.
It was terrible. Not the food itself, but the tension… Cid and Barret tried to eat, Shera and Marlene gazed up at the others and shifted back into their chairs without touching the dishes, Reeve and Yuffie shifted food around on their plates, Vincent sat stoically, observing the scene, and Cloud just stared dejectedly at his plate.
At last he pushed his chair back and stalked off.
Barret looked over at the wall and examined a picture of AVALANCHE directly after they had beat Sephiroth. They had all been overjoyed. Even Cloud was grinning and Vincent's lips were curved oh-so-slightly. Dammit, Cloud. Damn you. You and your freaking memories. You… He shook his head. No. It wasn't right to just blame Cloud.
No. But he needed somebody to blame. He needed somebody to hold against for the loss of comrades and love.
For Death.
*****
The night was one of those perfect nights with gentle breezes and happiness all around you that just made you have to hate it all simply because of its beauty.
Cloud Strife hated those nights. He had hated them since a new grave had been dug in the earth by the cliff, where he was sitting right now. He had hated them for the fact that they reminded him so much of a night in Nibelheim years and years ago, that he didn't want to remember, because it would just make the wound hurt more.
"Cloud."
"Vincent," he returned evenly without turning to look.
"… You miss her?"
Cloud smirked bitterly. "Do I look like it?"
"Very much so."
"It was my fault."
"…Yes."
He almost quirked an eyebrow at that. Not your typical answer from Vincent Valentine.
"I agree that it is your fault. But not just yours. It was everybody's fault. If you wanted to, you could attribute it to anybody and everybody. You. Sephiroth. JENOVA. Barret, Reeve, Cid, Shera, a passing villager, anybody. But you go on blaming yourself. You can never forgive anyone before you forgive yourself."
"I don't deserve forgiveness. I deserve death."
"And what if you do? Do you think that she would be happy to see you here like this? Or dead?" The normally quiet voice was sharp.
"Anything other than me here, with a life, when somebody I goddamn loved died just because I was too wrapped up in myself!" Cloud yelled.
"…You're a fool."
"I know."
"I'm a fool as well. For all those years ago in Nibelheim, for the project, for Lucrecia, for Hojo, and for the fact that for one moment I believed that you would go on with your life after this." Vincent finished coldly.
A short laugh. Bitter, pained. "We're all fools."
"…Then so be it."
With one last glance at blue eyes shining with more than just a Mako glow, he stalked back in.
*****
He had never before realized just how soothing Kalm's sea breeze was. It seemed so calm, as if everything would be all right.
And everything would be.
Two years ago, on this day, he had lost an elegant flower girl with ethereal green eyes.
A year ago, on this day, he had lost the woman he loved more than anything.
"I miss you…" He admitted. But what good did it do now? She was gone. His angel had gone. The seeds of hope planted in his heart whenever he had seen her had bloomed into flowers of desperation. /Why is it that… You can affect me so much, even after death?/
/It's not fair!/ He punched the bark of a nearby tree. "Why?" he ravaged, hitting the poor tree over and over again. "Why? You can't do this to me! You're not allowed to!" He leaned against the tree and slid to the leaf-littered ground.
And the sobs came.
He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had last shed tears. A day? A week? A month? He hadn't allowed himself to cry, telling himself that he was strong, that strong people didn't cry, that he could handle this; that everything was all right.
And all because of her.
Because she was gone.
Because he had forced her to be gone.
He cringed as the memories seeped into his mind, swirling in the cavities of his heart; memories of harsh words and the unwillingness to let go; memories of drowning in pain, pain in the form of a vision of emerald eyes, so close and yet so far…
But now she was gone, and he didn't just feel pain… He felt empty, numb, like a vortex inside him was draining the life out of him slowly, torturously.
And the worst part of it was, he knew he deserved it.
"You weren't supposed to die…" He whispered brokenly to the wind. "You were supposed to… always be there…" He buried his face in his hands. "Gods…"
A gust of wind, gentle, soothing. Reaching out to him, calling, whispering in a dance of tears and light.
Cherry blossoms, flower petals, floating with the wind, controlled unwittingly yet willingly, flying wherever the wind took it.
And he saw her.
Mahogany hair loose and billowing, wine-colored eyes infinitely understanding, lips curved into a gentle but somewhat wistful smile.
"Tifa…" the name escaped his throat hollowly, coated with pain and unshed tears accumulated from those long months. He hadn't allowed himself to speak that name for Lord knows how long. It hurt too much.
The figure kept smiling, her entire presence strikingly angelic.
That smile.
Unspoken promises.
That smile.
Concealed grief.
That smile.
A night, so many years ago, when the stars shone, each brighter than the next, and the brightest and most dazzling one had been right next to him, sitting by him on the well.
That smile.
An apology. A strand of hope. A desire, a rabid thirst to distinguish himself, to gain her support, to buy her love.
That smile.
/You'll come and save me, right?/
That smile.
Optimism in despair, supported only by strength of will, the recognition of the need of a spark of hope and happiness when all seemed lost.
That smile.
Always there, always present.
Sephiroth. Jenova. Hojo.
Always there, always present.
That smile.
And he had turned it away in the sheer disbelief that somebody who should be alive was dead.
That smile.
But smiles can't bring back the dead, and neither can tears. Neither can love, confused or inexistent, or just misplaced.
That smile.
"I love you, Tifa."
*****
"Spike!" Barret shouted. "Ge' back in! Yer food's goin' cold!"
"Cloud, you *&^$! Eat yer damn (&$# dinner!" Cid yelled in a voice that started out irritable - with an effort - but ended up just… sad.
"Cloud, where are you?" Reeve called.
"Hey, Cloud!" Yuffie said loudly. "C'mon!"
Red simply shook his head, sniffing on the ground as he did so. "This way." He padded off, sensing that it was unsafe to leave Cloud alone for long tonight.
Shera was inside with Marlene, talking to her while the others were out. Vincent… Vincent had disappeared somewhere; nobody was too surprised.
The small group walked briskly, the journey free of small talk; the silence was oppressing, eerie, almost.
Each second seemed to last for an eternity; each self-assurance seemed to be failing more and more miserably.
"Are you… sure he came this way, Red?" Yuffie asked slowly.
He didn't say anything, but as they reached the peak of the cliff, they saw Cloud walking along a path, reaching the end of it startlingly quickly despite his slow steps.
They stared.
"*&)#%," Cid swore softly. Cloud was climbing past the railing… to the edge of the cliff.
"Yo, Spike! What the *hell* do you think ya doin'?!" Barret started, only to be interrupted.
"Let him go," a quiet voice said.
Yuffie turned, startled. "Vincent! Where'd you come from?"
He didn't reply.
"Whaddya mean, let him go? He's about ta (*^%& kill himself!"
"We have to at least talk him out of it…" Reeve reasoned.
Even Red looked doubtful. "Vincent…"
Vincent stared out at the blond figure. "Look at him."
Cloud was staring out at the sea, a ghost of a smile just barely visible.
"Hell…"
"…He looks…"
"…happy…"
"…Gawd…"
The black-haired man looked thoughtfully out to Cloud. "He looks… at peace. He looks much happier than he has in a long time…"
"But-"
"He's happy to die," Red XIII cut in. "If his life now is misery…"
"We all want 'im to be happy," Barret broke in, "But…"
"He is happy," Vincent said abruptly. "He *wants* to die. If that will make him feel any better…"
Reeve's eyes downcast. "If he can't be happy in life… then… let him be happy in death."
Yuffie turned away, not letting anyone see the single crystalline tear that slid down her cheek. This was the leader of the group that had given her life again, given her something to really do for the world… the man that had persevered to the end… Was he just giving up now?
"Cloud, ya old idiot…" Cid said desperately. "Why?"
There was the sound of boots against sandstone.
Yuffie spun around, wide-eyed.
Vincent looked on silently.
Cid's mouth fell open, his cigarette dropping to the ground, the spark extinguished by the wind as it fell.
Reeve inhaled sharply.
Barret shook his head disbelievingly.
Red looked down sadly.
Without a sound, Cloud disappeared.
-- Epilogue --
The body washed up to shore two days later. It was in terrible shape, and Yuffie almost threw up after seeing it, despite the fact that she didn't have anything to throw up; none of them had eaten since that night.
Half the bones were broken, there wasn't much blood left. A portion of the corpse was too mangled to really be identified.
But his face could be quite clearly seen, and all that saw the body of the hero who saved the world commented on the smile on his face.
It was a familiar smile… calm, almost poignant, content, even.
AVALANCHE had seen it twice before this…
On the Cetra that saved the world…
And on the girl that saved Cloud Strife's soul.
-owari-
Yes. Strange, ne?
Anyway, if you like it, review, please. If you can't make head or tail of it… well… if it's of any comfort, neither can I. I just write. And I'm not a particularly… comprehendable person.
Yeah, the bit about sandstone. Sorry. Just had my geography exam. And just now I was writing a tribute essay before I realized that I was writing tribute tributuary. And a tributuary is a river-thinggi. Geez.
So. Review, please, please, please… okay?