Well, here we go. Another new story (that will in no way be nearly as long as BCD). The premise for this one was easy to decide on – while it seems almost cliché to write a fic with this particular plot, I've yet to see it done properly for the VIII universe. I believe this is due to the fact that most of these fics have been written by individuals who have either exclusively focused on VII, played only VII, or hated VIII for some reason but liked the idea of Cloud having GFs and access to a flying military academy. I've also decided to write one in which game stats are actually used – everyone seems to forget that while Cloud/Vincent/etc. may be awesome, the characters in VIII have every potential to be just as if not more powerful depending on how they're junctioned. Don't worry, VII fans – I won't be belittling or trashing your game. My intention is simply to write it correctly from the VIII stance. Cloud will still be awesome. Just don't expect any SeeD to be overly enthralled; their source of amazement wouldn't be 'wow, look how powerful he is!' anyway, but rather 'weird that he's that powerful without GFs. Even Zell needs Brothers and a couple Meltdowns before he can air-juggle dragons.'
I apologize posthaste for any inaccuracies found. While I'm fairly certain my VIII representation will be close to spot-on, my VII might not be so adequate to some. I've made some effort – watching 'Advent Children' once more, replaying Crisis Core, finding Let's Plays of Dirge of Cerberus (because I REFUSE to play that game again), and blasting through FFVII again for good measure. So while I won't profess expertise on VII, I will say I've made every reasonable effort to make it as accurate as possible. If I've made errors, please tell me so in a polite PM or email and I'll try to rectify the problems post-haste.
Events that take place after the games'/movie's/etc. conclusion are derived of my imagination, and are obviously not canon. Feelings that weren't expressed during the games are my interpretation of why characters behave as they did/my own interpretation of the characterization of particular persons in the game. They're there for fun and/or fleshing out the setting.
Each chapter is divided into 2 halves, each written to revolve around an individual main protagonist. This format will be utilized throughout the entire story. And now that I've rambled enough to bore you to tears, let's head on to this mess.
Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
-BEGIN FIC-
Chapter 1
Closing Both Locks
Let's be honest. At first, I thought Selphie's idea to keep a journal was the most ridiculous and potentially imbecilic plan I'd ever entertain. Yet here I am maintaining a written record of events, scribbling down everything that has happened of late that I can recall before those thoughts and memories are erased from my mind.
I'm actually taking her suggestion seriously. I never dreamed there would be a day when I would consider anything spilling from Selphie Tilmitt's questionably addled brain as wisdom, and yet I'm making plans to set aside time to write in this journal at least once a day if anything memorable occurs.
So what can change a hardened mind? Let's record this before I forget and choose to stop this seemingly insipid exercise.
I tried to unjunction Eden today.
It's been nearly nine months since the party on Garden proclaiming our victory over Sorceress Ultimecia. Five months have drifted by since my eighteenth birthday. Four months ago, Quistis was fully reinstated as an instructor and threw a party to commemorate the event, terminating it early when Xu succumbed to the liberal quantities of alcohol that found its way into the celebratory punch bowl. Two months ago, we managed to prevent Selphie from forcibly removing Irvine's head from his body when three strippers showed up on the pier dedicated to our Garden waving signs professing that he'd get a free birthday hour at their establishment downtown. Six weeks ago Nida started a new program in the SeeD curriculum, dedicating his time to teaching those students who showed significant engineering and navigational aptitude the ins and outs of piloting the Garden. Zell tearfully attended his adopted father's funeral last month, the elder Dincht having succumbed to a heart attack derived from stress and a poor diet. Two weeks have passed since I last heard word of a Seifer-plus-posse sighting, this time brought to me by SeeD personnel stationed temporarily at Dollet. Yesterday I proposed to Rinoa and, to my surprise and buried delight, she cheerfully accepted.
Last night while curled together in bed, she'd mentioned something about how she'd never thought that dancing with the boy she'd met at Balamb Garden during her ill-fated run with the Forest Owls would result in her being affianced.
She'd recoiled almost physically when I'd been confused.
I've actually forgotten how we'd met. The dance at Garden's graduation ceremony that we'd supposedly met at is wiped clean from my mind.
Apparently the rumors about Guardian Force effects on human minds are more true than we wished them to be.
When Rinoa had separated herself from me to sort through her belongings and show me the white dress and matching pumps she loved so much, she asked me when I could first remember seeing her in them. I'd honestly answered that my first recollection of her in that ensemble was at Fisherman's Horizon, when Selphie had finally arranged and performed her concert and Rinoa and I had spoken of insecurities and the uncertain future under the faint light of the stars.
Her wrinkled nose and slightly narrowed eyes as she looked at her dress befuddled me for a few moments. When she'd then asked if I remembered the day I'd made SeeD, I found myself bereft of any response. Reflections turned inward, I searched every nook and cranny of my mind. Eventually I was forced to concede that there was nothing left for me to find.
That disturbed me.
It disturbed me enough that I decided to finally go through with what all of my other companions with the noted exception of Selphie had done – I attempted to upload my Guardian Forces back into the Garden hard drive to store them for future use.
I'd kept them junctioned for some reason I have no recollection of. It was unwise and illogical, given the mounting evidence of ill-effects on the human brain, but for a rational that escapes my memory I'd decided against taking the encouraged action of releasing them to the system.
When I'd attempted to upload them, Shiva, Cerberus, Carbuncle and Diablos willingly parted ways. Rather, if they were unwilling to go they were unable to overcome my will thrusting them from my brain and into the hard drive of the massive Balamb Garden site-wide computer system.
Eden was another story.
She'd grasped so tightly to my mind that I felt searing pain flow through my nerves when I attempted to push her away. Every gentle nudge was met with force tenfold, her silver wings digging their ways deeper into my lobes. I recall being frustrated and deciding that enough was enough with the gentle prodding – I attempted to throw her from my mind with every ounce of mental strength I have.
I don't truly know what happened. All I know is that I woke up this afternoon in Medical, my head bandaged and my body so bruised that I hardly appeared to be human. I physically ached, the mere action of laying on a mattress a testimonial to my ability to withstand tortuous pain.
I remember my breath being shaky and shallow before the potions started coming, every molecule of air hurting as they filled my lungs and moved what must have been cracked ribs. Doctor Kadawaki had nearly shrieked in shock when she'd poked her head into my room and noticed my state of pseudo-awareness. She then came barreling into my room with potions veritably coming out of her ears.
Funny, all I thought of at that moment in time was whether Garden had actually allocated the funds to the Medical Department for the purpose of garnering that many potions, and why I didn't remember seeing an order requisition in my inbox.
I tingled as she liberally dosed me in glowing blue liquid, watching with dulled senses as it seeped effortlessly into my battered body. When I'd asked her what had happened, she told me that she'd no idea – I'd been dragged into Medical by one of the faculty members that's in charge of the computer laboratory I'd been utilizing. Every muscle in my body had been so tightly clenched that my bones were fracturing under the strain and my tendons were being ripped from their mountings. Every capillary in my body had burst, coloring my skin purple.
I'd not believed her until I garnered a glance of myself in the shiny reflective surface of her rolling surgical cart and saw myself with my own blood-red eyes.
Then Rinoa had stormed in, professing that she didn't give a damn about visitor restrictions and that she was going to see me come hell or high water. She managed to make standing up to the demon that secretly rested under Doctor K's unassuming figure that rose and belligerently stuffed all SeeDs back into their mediocre hidey-holes seem completely effortless, Rinoa's stubborn determination lighting her soft brown eyes with hellfire.
I love that girl.
She'd covered her mouth when she'd seen what state I was reduced to. Then she'd asked what had happened.
When I heard that voice in the back of my head whispering to me, cackling as her song of apocalyptic destruction raged across my senses and spoke of her desire to remain with her chosen vessel, I felt my heart skip a beat.
Eden had me, and she refused to let go. Even giving her the option of juctioning to another SeeD was met with a snarl of laughter and a profession that if I attempted to strip her from my mind I would suffer greater pain than she had already put me through. She informed me in no uncertain words that she would kill me if I made any move to thrust her from my mind again.
That's when I asked Rinoa to get me this journal book and decided that Selphie may not have had a bad idea for once in her life.
I can't get rid of a Guardian Force. The most powerful Guardian Force in the history of mankind has decided that my brain is a comfy place to nest and that she'll have no other vessel. She apparently likes my memories, my ability to meet her demands and my willingness to fulfill her desires for flesh and death. Faced with the inevitability of having Eden junctioned for the rest of my natural life and the subsequent demolition of my memories, I think I have no other options.
So that's why I'm keeping this journal. I've already lost enough. My sister, my family, every home I've ever known besides Garden itself, some would even argue my humanity with the atrocities I've had attributed to me. I don't want to lose my memories as well. I'd rather take part in this strange exercise of maintaining a log of my daily activities and lock my existence firmly into place than allow everything to fade away, flitting out of the open window of what is destined to be a mediocre memory.
No matter hor horrid it is, I want a record. I want to know what's shaping me and molding me. I want to keep a record of everything that happens from now on. I want tangible evidence of my life with Rinoa.
Because she's too precious to forget.
The motorcycle leaned heavily to the left, its front wheel turned in that direction and its massive frame barely maintained upright by its rider.
Taking a moment to run a gloved hand through thick, naturally spiked blond hair, the owner of the impressive bike let a dreary sigh seep from his lungs. Lashes brushed against sun-speckled cheeks as he blinked a few times to clear sweat from his eyes prior to allowing his gaze to sweep over the barren fields that surrounded him.
One hand lightly rested on the handlebar of his cycle, the other reaching to his forehead to wipe offending droplets of perspiration from his brow, Cloud Strife settled more firmly on his seat as glowing blue eyes shaded by heavy black sunglasses beheld a still, blistering hot desert plain with apparently no life dwelling upon it.
A quick punch of a button on the dash of his motorcycle quickly closed the storage compartments in which the segments of First Tsurugi rested, the hollow-core blade he'd just used to put down the Midgar Fang that had attacked him already cleaned and returned to its proper place. As the bike's body panels shut seamlessly to restore the aerodynamic design of the vehicle, Cloud returned his nonchalant stare to the monster that he had struck down.
Thin and bedraggled, the creature's ribs and spine visible, it was a pathetic sight to behold. Likely the beast was hunting for what it had assumed would be an easy meal.
Cloud couldn't care less. It had attacked. He had defended himself. If only one of the two combatants involved in a conflict was destined to come out alive, he would make every effort to assure it was him.
Years ago, he might not have had such resolution.
Years ago, he didn't appreciate the simple fact that he had people and a place waiting for him to return.
Now he lived with that calming resolution in his heart. He had a home to go back to. He had a semblance of family that wished him to come back to them.
Tifa would always greet him with an enthusiastic smile and a hug overflowing with love. If it had been an especially long period of detachment, she would go so far as to kiss him, whatever restraint she normally maintained with him when visible to the public eye thrown to the winds. Marlene would always toss her arms around him with glee, her face brilliant with an overjoyed smile. Denzel would grin cheekily and nod his greeting.
If that annoying red-head were at the bar, he'd turn, snort, lift his stein in greeting before professing that Cloud still made him sober and wishing that the blond had been eaten by a chocobo on his journeys in order to maintain his happy near-drunk buzz, then return to the task of slurping down his alcohol. His bald-headed partner would look in Cloud's direction, his expression bland and his eyes hidden by his eternally present sunglasses, before mimicking his partner in action if not in so many words.
Despite those two unfortunately frequently encountered thorns in his side, Cloud had found solace and, daresay, a small hint of joy in the knowledge that he finally had a small vestige of stability upon which to rest his laurels and find peace. 'Home' was something he'd not had the pleasure of experiencing since his days prior to joining ShinRa's army, long preceding Junon's invasion by Professor Hollander and his robot destroyers, predating Sephiroth's fall from grace, before Nibelheim's burning.
His hands both found the grips of his motorcycles handlebar, giving the throttle a quick, encouraging twist. The monstrous black beast between his legs growled its response, its voice a thick and throaty rumble. It vibrated roughly, the exhaust poured from its curved piping stirring dust as it breathed its profession of power and impatience with remaining stationary. Seating himself firmly on Fenrir's sloped seat, finding that groove his body and the bike had made over their years conforming to one another, Cloud straightened the front wheel and rested his foot calmly on the clutch even as his fingers lightly pressed the brakes.
"Let's go home."
Fenrir snarled in reply.
The remainder of the trip passed quickly, the setting sun illuminating the thin strip of dust-coated asphalt that stretched towards Edge. Tires chewed empty miles that reached into eternity, the length of road never seeming to shorten even as the small projections that sprang from the distant desert ground began to grow into the sky and define themselves as skyscrapers populating the foreboding environment. Heat and sand whirled around him like an inescapable dust devil, coating him in grime and sweat even as granules of gold skittered across the barren and cracked road. His shadow raced him to his left, leaning heavily forward as it warped and bent to accommodate the quickly-passing scenery and skipped from ground to rock to ground to mountainside with his travels.
As the day's heat began to fade along with the glowing red light cast by day's star seeping into the distant west and night's chill breeze brushed over the blond motorcyclist's bare arms, the road ceased to rumble whimpers about its unkempt state and instead became silent and satisfied with its smooth condition. Seconds later a sign dangling over the roadway suspended by towering steel gray posts professed in bold white letters, 'Edge – 6km.'
The road segregated itself from the desert's hard stone, rising deftly above it on concrete pillars to sail over a dried riverbed before sweeping into an elevated tunnel that brought a stark change in lighting to Cloud's eyes. White lights illuminated the road that passed swiftly under his bike as he flipped his sunglasses up onto his forehead to hide their plastic black lenses in the soft fetters of his wispy blond hair.
When he emerged from the tunnel's maw and started the downward slalom towards hard earth once more, Cloud's eyes swept their gaze appreciatively over the city that now sprawled before him.
Despite its trails and tribulations, the small hovel that had risen from the ashes of monstrous Midgar's terminal fall had blossomed. Where once was a smattering of sprawling half-finished buildings and pale steel beams jutting from uninviting concrete now resided a recognizable and respectable city. Buildings twisted in imaginative designs, glass reflecting the faint light of the stars and the brilliance of the moon along with the yellow glow that emanated from the street lamps that lined the city's streets. Stretching for the heavens, those skyscrapers stood in defiance of the fate that befell its fellow technological marvel that rested but a few kilometers away, sticking out of the crater that swallowed it at odd intervals and at strange angles. Sprawling spirals of homesteads, less overwhelming and exuberant than the towering industrial center that dominated the landscape, surrounded the mighty projections that spurted from the earth. Dotted among the skyscrapers themselves, small business buildings cast their warm light onto the streets, giving the city a sparkling nighttime life that exemplified stark contrast with the peaceful darkness of the rest of the desert. Accompanying the entire ensemble was the soft blue-green light that still radiated from the remains of Midgar, casting a backdrop of color to the city's night.
Soon Cloud eased off the gas, Fenrir purring as it slowed from a breakneck race to make city limits to a more casual pace to pass through masses of people mingling among one another and the buildings that towered over them. A quick series of turns, a passing down an empty side street and a reemergence onto a main causeway lead him to his inevitable destination even as the streets were emptying and people were bidding one another good night.
Swinging past the entryway to the establishment he'd been seeking to reach for so very long, Cloud steered his motorcycle into a shadow-ridden alley that skittered between the building that he'd set as his journey's terminus and its neighbor. Once he was satisfied with Fenrir's position, he dismounted and covered his monstrous black bike with a conveniently placed protective tarp before shuffling with his head bowed and his feet scuffing carelessly on the concrete walkway to the large wooden double doors that stood between him and home. The only open portal to the streets at the hour Cloud found himself standing upon the bar's stoop was one window, still cracked open to let the cigarette smoke of the evening's cliental seep from the establishment's interior but sporting a red 'Closed' sign. A quick glance to the joining of the two doors revealed that the deadbolt had yet to be engaged; the doors had been left open, perhaps waiting for Cloud's arrival.
He had no hesitation as he reached for the nearest door handle as he might have years ago. Before, he was a lost soul wandering the planet seeking redemption for injustices done onto others and searching for answers concerning his own past and his place in the newly emerging world. He was as uncertain of his place in the building he now called home as he was about his own past, about his own worthiness to continue existing as a human being.
When he'd taken to the road and found rest in Midgar's ruins nestled among the rotting pews of the church where flowers grew, he'd avoided the bar he was about to enter and its proprietor for a slew of reasons. Regardless of her continual proclamations concerning him being as genuine as any other person, he still found doubt in his origins – whether he was a creation of the coupling of a man and a woman that had been born in Nibelheim and raised as Tifa's next door neighbor or was actually a creation of science birthed of Jenova's cellular matter and Hojo's insanity still plagued his conscience. For if he were the first, he was a sour bully who had failed at every endeavor he'd attempted to undertake, ultimately allowing his sorry state to drag his most precious friend to his death. If he was the second, he wasn't what he would consider 'real,' truly nothing more than a puppet to be manipulated and controlled as those who had power over him would see fit.
He suspected that, ultimately, he was a little of both. The prospects of such bothered him immensely, as the more he reflected on what he had learned during his time enveloped in the Lifestream seemed to belittle and make moot the sacrifices that had been made during his ventures. His friend had given his life for nothing more than a sad little bully from a backwater town. The woman who had claimed his heart had died due to the inability of a puppet to cut its strings and effectively strike against its controller. The woman who doted over him, while aware of his conundrum, offered little in the way of answers and encouraged instead acceptance of what reality was at that moment without care of the route taken to reach that reality.
Cloud had once found that lacking in satisfaction, but as time had passed and events had unraveled he'd learned to embrace Tifa's resolution. After facing off with the remnants, seeing first hand what dedication to the belief that one's life was nothing but the motions of a puppet answering the call of a higher controlling power was truly like, Cloud found he could easily see the differences in actions and thought patterns that firmly seated him in the realm of humanity. The professions from those spirits he loved that rested in the Lifestream that he wasn't ready to join them accompanied by the enthusiastic expressions of his friends when he'd opened his eyes after the explosion that had nearly claimed him sealed his resolution to live. Tifa's brilliant smile, Denzel's childish hero-worship and Marlene's overflowing and unconditional love convinced him to live his life with as much happiness as he could garner.
Still, he found it difficult to remain still. While he was comfortable with his more settled reality, the questions of the past still needled at his mind.
Those flickers of green he'd see in his sleep, the quiet whispers and laughter that rang in his ears, the burn of foreign cells in his blood even after the purging of humanity by the Lifestream encouraged him to wander. Questions still existed; was there any possibility of the past rising once more? Was a dark angel's promise to be more than just a memory a black omen of future events? Was the sinister alien that plagued the planet still capable of bringing chaos and havoc? Would he be its instrument once more, as he'd been when he'd delivered the black materia that had brought about Midgar's death to the one who would use it?
The answers were out there – he would continue to seek them until they were found. But until they were available, he would return to the place he had been offered, the place he shared with Tifa and called home.
He wouldn't run anymore. He had no reason to. He was accepted, and he had finally learned to accept himself.
Seventh Heaven was quiet, a smattering of lights illuminating its warm wooden interior. The tables were still glistening, lightly wetted by a cleaning rag that had been recently run over their surfaces. The floor was spotless, recently swept free of debris. The establishment had been closed for a good hour or two, given the depth of cleaning accomplished by the proprietor.
There were still two other bodies in the lounge, both readily recognized by Cloud yet only one bringing joy. The pair were involved in a softly spoken conversation, voices dampened as if afraid to stir the calm serenity of the very early morning atmosphere that weighted down upon them. Likely, Cloud realized, they were keeping it down because one of the kids was visiting and sleeping upstairs.
As the person seated on a stool reached with long fingers to caress the hand of the woman who stood behind the bar that separated them, Cloud cleared his throat.
The startled jump and slight tilt that hinted of inebriation brought a small yet satisfied smile to Cloud's lips. The redhead that had been speaking so at depth with the bar's owner that he'd failed to notice Cloud's entry scowled brilliantly, crystal blue eyes flickering dangerously above fiery red slashes in the low light even as Cloud's sea-colored orbs glowed without care.
Tifa smiled, her expression bright and cheerful. "Cloud, welcome home," she happily exclaimed.
"Tch," Reno snarled as he rose from his seat, taking a moment to lay a hand on the bar's heavy silver railing to steady himself before claiming his smoldering cigarette from the nearby ashtray and setting it between his lips. "Still haven't been killed, I see," he gruffly stated, his voice colored with agitation.
"Tifa," Cloud greeted even as he let the door close behind him and walked to the bar. Taking a moment to look at Reno, he gave the man a polite nod. Turning his attention back to the woman he arched a slim yellow brow. "Want me to throw him out for you?"
As she stepped around the bar and gave Cloud his expected hug, Reno snorted sharply and shook his head with one sharp clip. "Was already on my way, zo to. Don't like to stick around buzz-kills."
Glancing around Cloud, Tifa smiled. "Later then, Reno."
"Yeah, yeah," Reno huffed, hands snaking into his pockets as he tromped towards the door, every movement exaggerated. Once at the door, he glowered at it for a few moments as if it had personally offended him by not opening automatically before lifting a hand free of its fabric confines and properly operating it rather than nudging it with his toe as Cloud had seen him do on multiple occasions.
The door clicked audibly as it swung shut behind the interloper. Cloud stared at the wooden panel, torn between being disconcerted by the wily Turk's behavior or highly amused by his laughably predictable attitude.
Tifa brought him clear out of his deliberations with a quiet laugh. "At least that ended without any destroyed furniture this time."
"Didn't look like he had his EMR on him. First Tsurugi's in the bike," Cloud handily supplied.
"Oh, shush. I was complementing you on your civil behavior," she lambasted before taking his arm and leading him towards a booth by the cracked-open window, their privacy maintained by the drawn blinds and the empty state of the city streets outside. "So, tell me about your trip," she prompted.
A shrug rustled Cloud's trench coat as he frowned. "Nothing much to tell. It was just a delivery run to Rocket Town." A sigh rattled his lungs. "Sometimes I don't know why Reeve insists on never using the postal service."
"Because he's actively supporting your business endeavor," Tifa replied. "You should be grateful, not exacerbated."
"It just takes me away from home."
Tifa stilled, her mouth partially opened with a halted reply. Letting her mouth shut, her lips curled into a smile peppered with happiness. "Cloud," she breathed.
"Guess I should make the most of the time I have. Don't know when I'm going to be sent out again, after all," Cloud said with a casual shrug.
Her smile became toothy and bright as she rose from the booth. "You're right. You look tired, Cloud. Maybe we should turn in for the night."
"Sure thing," he handily replied, reaching over and pulling the window they were situated next to shut.
As he closed both locks below the window, he let a calm, shy smile claim him. It was good to be home.
-to be continued-