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A/N:

Cross-posted from AO3. Tentatively. I know some people prefer ffnet over AO3 or only go to AO3 after they find the story here.

I was also asked to, so there's that.

That being said, this story is not for kids.

While I try to keep things classy, this story will contain: same sex pairing(s), an Infantry veteran, a character dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Survivor's Guilt, depression, a disabled character, tooth-rotting fluff, awesome women, awesome men, angst, comfort, feels, and many other things that require the reader to use their own sense of discretion.

Anywho, credit for the original prompt/idea goes to xxxbladeangelxxx over on Tumblr. The lovely lady graciously allowed me to use this idea, which is how this all came about.

Much love and appreciation to InsaneScriptist who has assisted me with several technical aspects in a few later chapters.

Also, a round of hugs to the AO3 readers who have all been super supportive and have kept the muse for this well-fed and happy.

Finally, thanks to all of you who have made it through this terrible note and are willing to give this fic a try. Thanks~! =)

A/N UPDATE: Ok, so apparently there was some confusion. If you don't want to read a story about a disabled veteran struggling to keep his head above water in the Slums below Midgar-

Please. Stop. Reading. And. Exit. Now.

I don't know how I can make it clearer to those who don't enjoy this sort of character perspective. If you don't want to read this type of story, then turn back and read a different one from the archive! There is no reason for you to continue past this point, only to leave me passive-aggressive reviews or PMs.

I'm just a fan who loves these characters and wants to explore them. I thought I'd share the fruits of that exploration and there have been those that have enjoyed that. (Hugs to you guys!) However, if all you're here to do is nitpick or gripe about pairings, emotional distress, or anything along that line- please just go read another story, one that suits your interests!

Concrit is an entirely different matter. I enjoy that, especially when the person is kind about it.

I don't mean to be abrasive, but I don't understand why people would read something they don't like only to gripe about it later. How hard is it just to turn back and find a work that tickles your fancy?

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Old Soldiers Never die....

...they just fade away.

Cloud is stuck in the Midgar Slums. A disabled vet easily cast aside by the company he fought, bled, and nearly died for.

Struggling to keep his head above water in a place that is callously indifferent to his broken body, his damaged mind, and his bleeding soul is an hour-by-hour struggle.

Yet no matter how dark things get, Cloud is still Cloud. Still the kind boy that chased after a girl he barely knew and tried to save her from herself.

But everyone needs a bit of help sometimes. Is there anyone left who can save Cloud?

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Cloud tried to rotate his good shoulder a bit in an effort to relive some of the stiffness, and- par for the course nowadays- the motion pulled at the scarring on his back painfully. Clamping his mouth shut to prevent the moan of pain from escaping Cloud stubbornly reached for another tool.

Working as a jack-of-all trades in the Midgar Slums was very much not how Cloud intended for his life to go. He had left Nibelheim at the tender age of thirteen. Cloud had left behind his backwater, mountainous hometown bright-eyed and with lofty dreams of becoming a SOLDIER.

When he had failed the SOLDIER Exam, he had immediately signed up for the Infantry. Cloud had been determined to get some experience, grow up a bit, and try again. After your first shot, if you took the Infantry option, you had to go three years as an active Infantryman before you were eligible to take the SOLDIER Exam again. The Infantry wasn't so bad, though. Unlike in Cadet training Cloud had been able to connect to his sometimes three-times-his-age peers. Hell, he'd made some pretty good friends.

Don't think about it. Cloud told himself firmly as he grimly focused on his task. A run-down, piece of shit pipe in in bathroom of shitty apartment 54A in the Sector Seven Slums. Cloud's eyes started to glaze and he desperately pushed back against the volume of emotion that swelled in his chest as his thoughts touched on his former comrades.

They would have made it if they had not had to carry you. His traitorous mind supplied gleefully. Really, you bring harm to everything you care about, don't you Cloud?

Cloud's unit had mostly consisted of older guys who had managed to survive the slaughter that was the Wutai War. Let him tell you, the stories from the Infantry's perspective were far different than the legends of the Top Three. Stories of 'friendly fire', men being left to die in shitty field tents because it was more cost effective, and about a thousand and one other atrocities. In the beginning Cloud had listened to those stories and swore to himself that he would become a SOLDIER and change things. However, as time plodded forward and Cloud experienced the truly callous nature of Shinra, his naiveté and zeal slipped away.

By the time sign-ups came for the SOLDIER Exam came around, Cloud barely managed to work up the necessary resolve to sign the damn forms.

Not that it mattered, in the end. The blond thought as he carefully repacked his tools and slowly hefted himself up so he could check the sink. The door to the apartment opened with a loud bang not a moment later causing Cloud to flinch and slip; his chin hitting the edge of the counter and splitting open as he went down. Not that Cloud cared, because he had crumpled all the way to the ground and had done his best to hide his head under his arms.

Something he could no longer do properly, with his bad arm- the Shinra supplied prosthetic had crapped out in under a week- and the scarring across his back being what it was. Per usual when one of his triggers was tripped, his limbs shook and he forced himself to focus on counting while taking deep, measured breaths. It did not work, not completely. Cloud could still smell the acrid, pungent smoke forcing itself into his nose even through his scarf. He could still feel Jonsey's blood on his hands as the man died in Cloud's arms. Cloud's breathing turned ragged, despite his efforts, and bitter tears pooled in his eyes as the disjointed memories of the moment his life went to shit tried to overtake his vision entirely.

A moment later- it had to be, even if it felt like hours- a Slum woman with hard lines around her mouth opened the bathroom door and started screeching about how he was supposed to be done already and her kids were coming home soon and how pathetic Cloud was, huddled on the floor like that.

Cloud took the verbal lashing- he deserved it, after all- and stayed curled up on the floor for a while after the woman stormed off, presumably to call the building manager and complain.

Just another day in Shinra's poor man's paradise, Cloud thought contemptuously as he regained control of his shivering limbs and began the arduous task of rising to his feet.

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Feel free to leave me a note on your way out~!

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