There Is No Place Like Home

By: NemesisStrife

Disclaimer: These Final Fantasy 7 characters are property of Squaresoft. This is a one-shot fanfiction, occurring slightly pre-game. Follows according to the game, non-AU.

Warnings

1) This was written for the Commonwealth Essay Writing Competition, Class A, for ages 16 and over. It's a serious work, marked by teachers and everything. The aim was to write an essay entitled "There Is No Place Like Home". I have that quote at the end, and I'm really proud of it:)

2) Due to the fact that I finished Final Fantasy 7 the night before I wrote this, I was suffering from Seeing-Bishounen-Cloud-afterglow, hence I was writing fanfiction for the essay. Yes. This is fanfiction, I forgot it was for marking in school, and ignored the fact it had to be handed up. I ~was~ going to write some boring ramble on filial piety and family ties, but once I got started on "hometown", it inevitably led to Cloud. Somehow managed to get 34/40 for this attempt.

3) If you know my other fic, you should know what to expect. Don't worry, the mild rating is truthful, I did have to edit for my teacher's benefit. But still, look out for certain "elements", it shouldn't be too hard to find them, if you know where to look.

4) And yes. I promise to get back to writing my other fic ~soon~. *sheepish*

5) The tense changes in the first part, and also in the next portion. Any time I leave a double-line, it's supposed to be a ~clear~ indication of a break in the paragraphing. Hope it isn't too confusing. Basically, it's from Cloud's POV, and anything in present tense is current thought or action.

After reading to the end, please stay and read the continued author's comments/notes. I don't want to include spoilers now. Please. Stay and read it.

" " Normal speech

' ' Thoughts

italics Emphasis/Speech flashback

Dedicated to JY, for helping me proof-read and pointing out several "problems" which needed to be edited out to make it more teacher-friendly. And for wasting about 2 hours discussing this.

"You have been assigned a new mission to this small town up the mountains. There have been reports from the superstitious residents of strange monsters in the vicinity. We believe that they may have seen some unknown type of wild beasts. Your task is to hunt them down and eliminate them."

I sighed, trying to run over the details of our latest assignment, hearing the droning voice of one of the pompous officers replaying in my mind.

"The location is a small town, and the population size is small, with only around 40 - 50 members in the isolated community. This town is located up the mountainous range north of the Canyon, the Nibel Mountains. The town is called… …"

Nibelheim. My home. Or rather, the place I once knew as my familial home. At that name coming from the officer's mouth, my thoughts dissolved into scattered waves of confusion. 'My hometown… Ironic, isn't it?' I had spent my life trying to avoid home, which was why I had run off to join the army, in hopes of becoming an elite SOLDIER. And now, my very next mission was to return to that very place I thought I had managed to escape from.

'Life sucks.'

That strange twist of irony is why I am now sitting in the back of a near-empty truck, suffering, as each jolt and jerk the truck makes while travelling over the pathetic excuse for a road rattles my teeth, and I try desperately not to be sick.

"Someone should actually have paved the road. Or at least, removed all the rocks in our way, so it isn't as if we are driving over solid chunks of granite," the smooth voice, tinged with annoyance, remarks sardonically. I turn to smile wryly at Sephiroth, the General, my commanding officer, who is at the same time a comrade, and a very close personal friend, among other things. We bond over fighting in narrow trenches, and manage to laugh together while the war rages about us. Saving each others' lives so many times that counting has become quite meaningless.

War-buddies, friends, best friends, mates… and well, let's not go into that… The tendency towards banal sentimentality is something I never want to encourage. It is rather embarrassing, for both of us, when some of our friends start teasing us about it. In my opinion, it is merely "much ado about nothing". Two normally cold, and distant people who prefer their own company, surprisingly making close friends with one another, forming a relationship outside of mere superior-subordinate at work. Neither of us likes over-sentimentality, which is why we both try to refrain from mentioning, or doing anything remotely personal. At least in public. In private, with close friends, or when we get drunk, restraint and self-control tend to disappear quite rapidly. It's easier to just be and not talk about it. We both know it though, and that is what counts in the end.

"It's your own fault, General," I reply. It is, he should be too high ranking to go on a relatively-unimportant mission like this one, even if I am assigned on the basis of growing up in the town, which the army hopes would give them an advantage in knowing the background and the terrain. The reason why he was placed on this mission is unclear, although I know he wrangled with the administrative work, and came along just to accompany me back home. He knows I know.

He just smiles in return, still slightly sheepish at being found out. He can never hide things very well, at least not from me. "I guess it is, Cloud. But I couldn't let you go alone, could I?" Warned by the shake of my head, he switches smoothly to the use of my last name, "Sorry about that lapse, Strife."

We make it a point not to use first names or informal terms while on a mission; it discourages rumours of my pulling strings, using my friendship with the General to get ahead in the army. Neither of us would abuse our real relationship that way, though. This faith in each other, the mutual trust, is sacred.

"I didn't think I'd ever have to go back," I mutter regretfully. I hate my hometown. Noisy kids, bullies, snide parochial villagers, elitist clichés, and the usual gossip and isolation that surrounded the shunned child in the town who had only a single parent. I had to wait until I was 14 to leave to enlist, to escape the nosy, intrusive glances and pointed questions, to run to the safety of the city, where no one knows what your background is, and no one cares.

*** *** *** ***

Upon arrival, I noticed that the air smelled awful, the recent construction of a reactor to supply power was polluting the air. Despite the technological advancements, the town remained much the same as in my memory, peaceful, placid and downright boring. Another reason why I left to fulfil my dreams of being a SOLDIER.

The fearful townspeople were welcoming us, their saviours, with open arms, the pompous mayor almost fawning, in the hopes that we rid them of the mysterious beasts. My old bullies as well, and the popular girl that ignored my existence, also watching on, eager to claim me as a friend, as a town success story. "Our own hometown kid made it big." Strange, the neighbours whom I recall as once beating me, now grovelling at my feet. 'But we have a mission, and I cannot let old grievances interfere with the fulfilment of my duties.'

There is something I have to do before departing to the mountains to investigate the strange occurrences. Call it family obligations, the last remnants of filial piety, the responsibility of a dutiful son… I catch Sephiroth's eye urgently, and he nods, stating that we are allowed to go visit family and friends. That official announcement is all an act, put on for the other members of the army team, as only I have ties here.

Grimly, I head towards the coming meeting with my mother, trying to prepare myself for the reproaches and gentle reminders of the fact I have not visited home for quite some time. The house looks the same as I left it, immaculately clean, gleaming and polished, no trace of dust on any surface, the mark of a house-proud mother. She has kept my room in perfect condition, so it is strange to me, with the books placed neatly on shelves instead of haphazardly cluttering my desk in the familiar, welcoming, "occupied" feel of the room. The cushions on the sofa are arranged more for decoration than for comfort, removing the aesthetic appeal of cosiness and "homeliness".

With that strange feeling of shame which always accompanies me whenever reminders of my mother appear, I nervously enter the kitchen. "Hello, mom." I greet her quietly, and she turns around, face lighting up with joy, and it burns me with guilt. It is hard not to wince away from her surprise and delight.

The prodigal son returns…

We try to keep up an awkward conversation, asking about the trivial daily affairs, avoiding the painful past topics that would destroy the tenuous connection that we are building. 'I can't talk to her.' At least, not about anything that matters. It is not her fault, really, it is just that I have grown, but she still carries around the mental image of her little son, a young boy to be protected, and not as a mature, pre-adult teenager.

Even though it has been only two years since I left, a rift has grown between us. She expects me to be still fourteen, immature, and unable to cope with the dangerous lure of city life. How can I tell her that all she sees is an illusion that does not exist, a memory? She would not be able to understand the crucible of war, which turned this sixteen-year-old into a jaded individual. That information has been concealed from her, as the only messages she gets are short letters, or censored bulletins. The General helps keep her in the dark, so she still believes that my post is clerical, not involved in the frontline.

I long to be back out on the battlefield, to face the comparatively straightforward fighting, instead of treading cautiously around this emotional minefield, not knowing when a seemingly-innocent statement will blow up in my face. Home and my mother are removed from the war, existing in a deceptively calm oasis of safety, that I have to fight to protect.

The surroundings make me uncomfortable, the past intruding on the present, creating an aura of tension and uneasiness that is only perceptible to an outsider, who is removed from the bias of proximity. 'I wish Sephiroth was here.' I need the emotional support, the calm presence of someone uninvolved in the tangle of family bonds, but have to negotiate this turbulence by myself.

Home is where the heart is…

Meaningless platitudes mouthed by some sentimental philosopher in a fit of emotional instability, degenerating into trite phrases repeatedly stamped on mass-produced cards.

Mom means well, she is just concerned about me, and all this just shows how much she cares about me. At least, that is what I try to convince myself of, as she starts on her train of worrying. Queries pop up often, littering the one-way conversation, like "Have you been eating well?", "Are they taking proper care of you?" and "Did you see the medical officer for your injury?". Responding in monosyllabic answers seems to satisfy her, at least until she gets to the girlfriend (or lack of one thereof) part.

"Cloud, you should settle down with a nice girl, someone who will take care of you."

"I'm fine, really."

We stare at each other helplessly, on two different sides of a wide chasm, with only a fragile bridge of blood-ties and love keeping us within reach of one another. It cannot be helped, I suppose, we belong to two separate worlds, one of the reality of war, and the other of the mirage of peace. I consider telling her about Sephiroth, but push the matter away. She will not understand, will never understand, I fear, about the horrors of war, and the blood shed by my hands. Home is only "home" for this visit; I have never truly belonged, even in childhood.

The conversation falters again, words failing and falling into the gaps of silence, and neither of us can breach the distance. It is time again for me to depart, obligation fulfilled, and leave the home I had left behind forever, on that day when I entered the army, without looking back. I hesitate at the door, a strange reluctance overcoming my feet, and I halt, turning to stare inside for the last glance of the house I lived in, looking at the sad, wistful expression on Mom's face.

"I have to go now."

With a surprising quickness, she moves, not to bar my way, but to open my path, as on that first day. Catching me in an embrace, she smiles softly, whispering, "I love you."

"I'm sorry, Mom. Goodbye." Freeing myself from her arms, I run towards the door, feeling the same wetness on the shoulder of my uniform as that which gathers at the corner of my eyes. I know I am forgiven for leaving again, even before I ask.

The General sees the telltale wetness down the lines of my cheeks, but knows better than to ask, merely gathering me up in a hug that says what words cannot.

*** *** *** ***

Something has gone horribly wrong. The mission was a failure. The so-called monsters are actually escaped experimental creatures, deformed by the radiation leaking out from the reactor. The reactors, built by the powerful family-run corporation that controls the government, are unstable. Some basic structural flaw has caused the chemicals to seep into the earth, and the radiation is affecting the ecosystem in the mountains. The "monsters" were test subjects used to determine the effects of exposure to the radiation, and the fact that they mutated so quickly upon testing does not bode well for the animals in the area.. The townspeople are also at risk, as they live within a 2-km radius of the reactor.

The town is burning before my very eyes, and it is as if the world has gone truly mad. I suppose, to the higher-ups, this merely constitutes "destruction of evidence", a massive cover-up to remove any witnesses of their failure.

I can't find Sephiroth.

The whole town is literally in flames, searing heat and blazing agony, thick smoke suffocating the lungs of any possible survivors.

I wonder why I am still alive.

My home's doorway is impassable; the entire structure has caved in.

There is no hope that she still lives.

Futilely, I try anyway, but the raging fire deters and thwarts me again. My heart seems to have burned away, consumed, and a strange numbness settles on me, free from despair, free of emotion.

The flaming shells of the houses, buildings lying gutted and empty, save for the black ash and smouldering embers. Empty, like my soul, after the loss of the two most precious people in my life.

The twin passions of anger and grief finally catch up with my mind, and I laugh, tinged with hysteria. Too much, it's all too much.

Carrying a flaming rafter from the remains of a roof, I re-ignite the ruins of the house, setting the entire sector afire again, a fitting funeral pyre. I watch silently, as the town burns down to the ground. And as it burns, my world turns into searing flames and charred ashes, the skeletal structures of the once-familiar buildings alive with the fires of Hell.

There is no place like home…

Anymore.

*** *** *** ***

Authors notes: (continued)

Did you notice anything?

It was a Cloud and Sephiroth pairing, involving shounen-ai. Respect my opinions, please. My teacher didn't even notice, she thought it was nice, innocent friendship/camaraderie. Now you see why JY and I discussed it for 2 hours. We were trying to make it subtle, so conservatives wouldn't notice. There's a huge list of all the hints I dropped, or phrases that my friends found suspicious. If it bothers you, please ignore this section and continue to think of it as sweet, platonic brotherhood or something. Anyway, I deliberately wrote it so it can be taken both ways. But it was INTENDED to be shounen-ai Cloud&Sephiroth.

*grins* I wonder if I should ask or poll you guys if you picked up all the subtle or not-so-subtle clues left. There's no chance that all you on the ML can be as dense as my teacher, or as oblivious to yaoi stuff. :) Raise hands all of you who thought that it was blindingly obvious.

Read and Review, please. This is only my third fic, and my second FF7 one, so be kind! Comments and criticism welcomed.