Based on a short film I saw at some point. Now, if I could just recall that name...

When one was young and strong, they had a thumb and four words. They had all the time in the world, and they had strength. Their thumb pointed skyward, and they would say, "That's okay; I'll walk."

When one finally got tired, things changed; they could still be young in their body, but in their spirit they felt old. They could have once been strong, but in their limbs they felt weak. And they would have once had words, but as their exhaustion preferred to maintain silence, their thumb no longer aimed at the endless sky, but down a definite path, along a road.

One could start out as a hiker, but eventually – inevitably – one became a hitchhiker. Unfortunately, by the time one chose to hitchhike – when one was exhausted and spent – they could very well be in a bad place to do so.

And when one was alone in a bad place, with their thumb pointing down the road, any passing vehicle was a miracle.

To him, circumstances regardless, his miracle looked like it had rolled out of the gutter before a cat dragged it twice around the ugly tree.

It was an old beat up Daytona that rattled down the road; so loud, he could hear it from where he was. It was so old and rusted, it was near disgusting to look at, and he knew people who would gladly bet their money that the thing couldn't get out of its own way if it tried.

But miracles were miracles, and with him begging for a reprieve from the endless walking, he could not really afford to choose; his thumb stayed out, and his feet stayed their ground by the side of the dusty road. Still he stood there, waiting as the vehicle rattled toward him, pass him…

…and at last stopped with a loud ruckus. There was the grating of a stick shifting, and then a voice:

"… Well, get in."

Old in spirit, weak in the limbs, and too tired for words, the hitchhiker needed no second invitation before wrenching open the rust door by a still shiny handle and climbing into the truck's cabin. His pack clattered noisily as he dumped it in the space behind the seats before he at last regarded the driver for a moment.

A brunet about his age, give or take a few years, with shoulder-length hair that needed a barber, rumpled clothes that needed a Laundromat, and a diagonal scar upon his clean-shaven face that needed to be avoided in any impending topic.

"Where're you going?" the driver asked now, eyes regarding the road ahead with an almost lazy nonchalance.

"Where's this truck headed?" he fired back, wondering for a moment if that would do the trick. It didn't, but he got his answer.

"…the end of the road."

"Then that's where I'm going."

It was only then that the driver looked his way; it was not much more than the flick of gray-blue eyes in his direction. And he looked back, planted in the seat, waiting for the next line in their conversation.

At last the driver nodded, and took hold of the stick to shift gears. "…Leon."

With a nod of his own, the new passenger slammed the door shut, surprising himself at how sturdy it truly was. "…Cloud."

And the truck roared to life before once more rattling its way down the road.

"… So, where are you really going?"

"Hm…?" Cloud hummed in acknowledgment before taking his attention off the passing scenery for a brief second. The driver's own attention was focused on the road ahead, and so his eyes resumed their previous task. "Why do you ask?"

"So I know where to drop you," was the blunt reply. Cloud wasted a second before shrugging and giving his answer.

"I'm in no hurry to go anywhere."

"If you have no destination, I'm finding a diner," Leon continued quietly. "You can get another ride from someone there."

The blond hitchhiker hummed once more before reclining further against the old worn seat. "Do what you want."

In the minutes that came to past, the two held their silence, one watching things go by and the other keeping his focus on what was ahead. It was Cloud who at last broke that silence as he spoke up again.

"…how about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you're headed for the end of the road," he explained. "Running errands?"

"…no," Leon answered at last, his hand turning the steering wheel at a bend.

"Going home?"

"No."

"What, then?" And when he was answered by another long pause, Cloud probed further. "What's waiting for you at the end of the road?"

"…nothing," was the reply. "…there's nothing there."

Cloud snorted in amusement before turning his head slightly. "Just like me, huh?"

Although Leon said nothing, his quirked brow was prompt enough for a clarification.

"I've no destination, and you have no goal. We're alike like that, aren't we?"

Again, there was that silence, and again it was broken – this time, there was a soft huff; barely audible, and Cloud was certain he could have missed it, given another chance. No more was said as the truck continued its noisy journey along.

It was hours later before a diner at last came into view, and the sun was already low in the sky as the old Daytona pulled over in an empty lot. The sound of gears shifting to his side, Cloud thought of the hassle involved with trying for another ride; all was enough to give him a brief headache, and he dismissed those thoughts as he reached for his pack.

"Leave it."

The truck was stationary, but still Leon's gaze was trained ahead as he spoke. "You can come back for it later; let's get some dinner first."

A nod, perhaps to himself, and the brunet removed his keys from the ignition and pocketed them in a swift move. Blue-green eyes followed his movement as he turned to open the door on his side.

"My treat, if that's what you're worried about. Let's go."

As his boots hit the earth, his hand shoved backward, and the truck door slammed firmly in place.

The diner was called Seventh Heaven, run by a single mother and her two children. As the little girl chatted amiably, the boy brought them a menu each. He was already off to fetch a notepad and pencil, as the girl watched them eagerly.

"What would you like?"

"…the burger set, well done," Cloud decided at last.

"You sure? Seems rather small," Leon commented dryly from the side.

"You're the one paying for this," the blond reminded him with a snide smirk. There was a soft huff, and Leon lowered his own menu.

"Steak set, medium," he stated. "And bring us two chocolate shakes."

As the pair of children hurried away to do their duty, Cloud turned to face the other, gaze even. Under the stare, the brunet at last flinched. "…what?"

"Chocolate shakes," he repeated, tone mockingly impressed. "I saw the prices on those things."

"…the sets seem rather small."

"It's your money," was the hitchhiker's casual drawl, as a pair of hot ceramic plates slid unto the table surface before them, followed by two low thuds of ice cold mugs being set down. Cloud leaned forward, snagged a fried potato fritter, and dipped it into one of the mugs.

"So," he continued, popping the fritter into his mouth, "still dropping me here to wait for another ride?"

"That was the plan," Leon admitted, reaching for a bottle of tomato ketchup.

"And so, we have this whole 'last meal' affair to ease the guilt?"

"I'd rather you not put it that way… Is that actually supposed to taste good?"

"Try it yourself."

"I'm keeping my drink clean, thank you."

"That's your loss." And Cloud proceeded to pop another fritter half-soaked in chocolate milkshake. As he chewed quietly, he played with the burger on his plate, listening to the scraping of metal against ceramic as his new acquaintance sliced through his steak. Leon proceeded to deliver a portion of the cooked meat into his mouth, just as Cloud swallowed and licked his lips uncertainly.

"… I do have somewhere to go, actually," he admitted, picking up the burger to study it. "I'm just in no hurry to get there."

"And where is that?" Leon asked between his next mouthfuls of steak.

"This old church in what's left of Midgar; it's about in the direction you're currently going."

He received a grunt of acknowledgment and nothing more. In silence, the two polished off their individual meals; Leon paid the lady, the two of them bid the happy kids goodbye, and they were out. Overhead, the sky was already showing signs of darkening.

"…no way you're getting another ride at this hour," Leon suddenly commented, his hand yanking open the door of the old Daytona. "Get in; I'll take you to Midgar."

It took Cloud a second, but he was still quick to get over his surprise as he retorted, "Can't get rid of me, can you?"

"I would have kicked you out feet first if you didn't have a destination, but you do have one," was the answer, accompanied by the door slamming shut. "…do you want a ride, or not?"

There was a second slam, this time from the passenger's side – the only answer either really needed.

"Here I was, thinking this old deadbeat was two and a half tires in the grave. Will wonders never cease?"

And taking in the actually decent-looking truck bed from underneath deceptively filthy tarp, any other would agree with him.

"It's supposed to look that way," Leon retorted gruffly; his hands were busy rolling up said tarp to put away. "When you look too pathetic for the road, you're less likely to get mugged on it."

"Ah, so you're a smart traveler," was the passenger's oily retort. "If I had a hat, I'd take it off to you."

"Duly noted." There was a hold in the conversation as Leon proceeded to climb into the truck bed. "And you're sure you'd rather not get a motel?"

"Can't afford it, plus I've had worse," Cloud replied, clambering upon the metal surface as well. "Will you make up your mind about ditching me or not?"

"You're the first passenger I've had that actually wants to keep riding; excuse me for not knowing what to do."

"And you're my first ride in weeks; excuse me for wanting to take what's going for me and making it last."

"What happened to your last one?"

"The driver ran over some fat guy just outside Rocket Town; he chucked me first chance he got and hightailed out of there."

And at last, Leon lost his composure momentarily as he broke out laughing; it was only when he calmed again that he commented, "You're an interesting one, I'll give you that."

"I need a way to earn my room and board, and easiest is being the court jester, eh Majesty?"

The driver's manner of retort was punctuated by a well-aimed bundle of cloth tossed his way. "Good night, you moron."

Cloud was still smirking as he undid the knot and allowed the bundle to reveal itself as a worn trench coat that was at least ten good inches wider than he was. Sneaking a glance back at his host for the night, he found Leon hunched over and wrapped in a similarly oversized outer garment, an arm over fully bent knees propping his head up as he leaned against the back of the cabin.

"…that can't be too comfortable."

"Can't be too careful."

"If you say so." And in outright defiance to Leon's vigilant posture, Cloud lay fully stretched upon the truck bad, his back to the other as he tugged the trench coat to better cover him.

"…hey."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you want to go to Midgar?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't…but it passes the time."

"You tell me what you're doing at the end of the road, and I'll tell you what I'm doing in Midgar." This time, there was a rustling of cloth as one of them shifted uncomfortably.

"That's none of your business."

"Then it's no deal."

"…whatever."

The conversation drifted away, both exhausted from the long travels they had each taken, yet too restless for sleep to come easy. Eventually, when Cloud brought his attention back on Leon, he found the brunet with his eyes closed, countenance somehow keeping up that troubled expression even then. He turned his focus back on where the truck bed ended…

"…my best friend's girl is in Midgar…in that church." There was no sign of acknowledgment, nothing to hint that he should stop talking… "…it's been four years since he last saw her, and there's something he had to tell her. Someone's got to do it…fate figured it should be me."

Still did the other remain silent, save for the persistent buzzing of relaxed breathes; it was to that buzzing that Cloud at last dozed off.

"Have you died in your sleep yet?"

A disgruntled scoff and, "you wish," before Cloud at last crawled out of the warm tangle of coarse cloth. Across from him, Leon was already up and securing the last knots on his own coat that was back in a neat folded bundle. With a careless yawn, Cloud scratched lazily at his weeks-worth of growing stubble before gathering up the coat he'd slept in as well.

"So how do you clean up in this here joint?"

At the question, Leon huffed before answering: "There's a canteen of tap water, about enough for brush, scrub and shave – you just pick yourself a rear view mirror."

"Charming; I give the establishment three stars."

"Really, now? I figured the truck gave me a negative half."

The amiable banter carried on as the two men took up their positions before the truck's polygonal mirrors, silence following the necessity to keep their jaws still as they shaved. At last relieved to feel his smooth chin under his fingers once more, he ran a wet hand over his face a final time before deeming himself clean.

"…you know," he commented, "you're being awfully generous toward someone you barely know. Is this a habit with you?"

"Not really; you're just lucky, I guess," Leon replied at last, his own fingers running streaks of moisture over his face. "Besides, where I'm going, anything that's left over is wasted."

"Can't take it with you?"

"Not where I'm going."

"And so our mystery continues on and on…"

"What was his name?" Leon suddenly asked; his hand was now on the mirror as he inspected his chin for any missed spots.

"Who?"

"Your friend."

"… So you were listening last night, weren't you?"

"…only picked up some of it."

More likely, all of it; this guy was lousy with even half-lies, Cloud decided. Tossing the sealed canteen at its owner with more force than necessary, he wiped himself dry on a towel before climbing back into the cabin and stuffing the bit of fabric back into his pack.

A distinct slam echoed as Leon got back into the driver's seat, ready to resume the journey; Cloud took a moment to right his position in the seat and close the passenger door as well. Keys into the ignition, and the old Daytona roared to life once more.

"Zachary. Everyone just called him Zack, though."

Leon shifted gears and inspected the mirror before reversing the truck back onto the road. "I see."

"He should have been the one to make this journey; not me. He really loved that girl – he should have been able to stay with her."

"You want to talk about it?"

As Cloud's posture became defensive, his tone reflected just as much as he replied tersely. "Good Samaritan or otherwise, it's none of your concern."

"Isn't stuff that you care nothing for easiest to forget?" was the retort in turn, as the Daytona rattled down the road once more, "Regardless of what I'll remember, it ends with me, and it ends with this road."

"The way you keep talking about this 'end of the road' is starting to disturb me," Cloud fired back, not bothering with tact any longer. "Are you going to tell me just what in hell you're planning, or not?"

The familiar lack of words made the passenger scoff as he glared at the scenery once more. "Yeah, I thought so."

"…fine, you've got your deal." And once more, Leon used the road to avoid looking Cloud's way. "You tell me your story, I tell you mine."

"Is that what you want? Someone else's troubles dropped on top of your own?"

"Not like it will matter for all that long…"

"Stop baiting me," Cloud grumbled bitterly. Still, he was hooked; they both knew it. "…alright, but if you ditch me before you keep your end of the deal, I know where to find you."

"Fair enough."

"I was fifteen when I first signed up for the force; I wasn't anything special, so they put me on grunt duty. It was a pretty bad blow to my ego, then – you see, I had wanted to join the elite force. After all, that was where the greatest hero came from. You know Sephiroth?"

"I've heard of him; go on."

"Yeah, well, he was the one who inspired me – and many of my peers – to join in the first place. A lot of them did better than me, and were sent to other places; I never saw them again. But even then, I guess I was lucky; it was how I met Zack.

"We had a mission a year into my service, and I was part of the support for him; I had never heard of him before then, but Zack was one of the elite as well. He was pretty friendly, and we ended up hitting it off, I guess. He decided we were buddies right there and then."

"He sounds like a great guy."

"More like an overly affectionate puppy, if you ask me; still, he grew on me, and he taught me many things I would otherwise have gone without knowing about. He helped me improve like that – helped me survive my service. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"He was your hero, wasn't he?" Leon suddenly interrupted with a commentary question. "Sephiroth was a hero by what others told you about him. Your friend Zack…he was your hero…by just always being there, always doing the right thing."

"…yeah." And Cloud smiled softly as he nodded. "…yeah, I guess he was."

"So what happened?"

"…it was another year of rough times, seeing how things were back then, but we kept in touch as often as we could. It's how he told me so much about himself – about his life before signing up, about his dreams and aspirations…and about his girl… He even had this photograph of her, you know – he used to show it to me while crowing endless praises about her, as though she were an angel.

"Then we had our next mission, and again I was part of his team. This time with us, though, we had Sephiroth as well. And there I was, supporting not one but two heroes. It was like a dream come true…until it all fell apart."

The engine's rattling stopped so abruptly, Cloud was jerked out of his reverie. Confused, he turned to ask Leon what was going on, and found that they were at a gas station. Without another word, Leon alighted from his seat, gesturing for Cloud to do the same.

As the old Daytona refueled, Leon slipped into the store for a moment; he reemerged with two bottles in hand. One of these, he pressed into Cloud's hands.

"You look like you'll need it," was all that he said, before he moved on to tally up the fees due.

Cloud stared down at the cold bottle in his hands, and at last broke the seal, loosened the cap, and took a deep, long drink…

"It was four years ago, during a mass deployment of all available units. I was in C-Unit with Zack and Sephiroth, and I think we had B-Unit and D-Unit travelling with us to our designated area. It wasn't anything complicated; there was just some cleaning up of monsters in the area, and since it would make good media coverage, they had us there to deal with it.

"None of us were ready for what happened next – no one knew what was about to happen…no one, or else we would have…"

Trailing off, Cloud tilted his head back and took another drink from the bottle that was already half-emptied. In the space between them, the unopened bottle sat; like it was there, waiting for him when he needed it. The gesture was either patronizing or thoughtful; Cloud didn't ponder it for very long as words fell from his lips all too easily – words he kept in too long, and now demanded release.

"One of the researchers had been attempting prototype strains for soldier enhancements – chemical shit that was supposed to make the elites hit harder, pack more punch. Project Jenova, they called it…but the bloody idiot was careless, and…he failed. He screwed up, and no one knew until it was too late.

"Sephiroth had been exposed to the failed prototype, and he was infected. He was already in the advanced stages before any of us realized what was going on, and by that time…the rest of us got it as well. Not like it was incurable or anything, but the government was scared shitless. Not for the public, I think, but more for the sake of their bloody reputation. They called for quarantine."

"Nibelheim."

"Yeah… Zack got me out of there in time, before the entire area was closed off. I managed to get the right treatment – from a place that doesn't ask too many questions – so all I've got left are the scars. But the others, the ones that were quarantined… The world just forgot them. No medical aid, no food, not even any help with the already bad irrigation systems. Even if the sickness didn't get them, everything else did.

"I never heard from Zack again, or anyone else for the matter. All I had left was the photograph he gave me – the one of his girl, Aerith." There was a pause in the story, as a small crinkled square was revealed. "There was something he had wanted to tell her, after the fighting was over. He'll never get that chance now, but… I've got it for him.

"He bartered off his chance to save my life; making sure his girl is doing alright, letting her know his final words to her…this is the very least I can do for him now."

And with that, there was no more to be said, Cloud resigning himself to the rest of the bottle. Next to him, Leon held his peace, allowing the words their chance to sink in. It was a long, strange silence that followed before he finally spoke again.

"And what after?"

"What do you mean?"

"After you give her that message, what do you intend to do?"

Cloud stared into his emptied bottle, shrugged, and set it down between his legs. "I guess I'll figure it out when the time comes."

There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and then the Daytona pulled to a halt; they were coming closer to civilization, now, and here was their first junction with a train track. As warnings were repeated with irritating consistency – long before the train would actually show – the two of them stared ahead, into the far distance where the road joined with the horizon.

"Your turn," Cloud bluntly reminded, earning a scoff from the other.

"Good of you to remind me."

"It's only fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"So they say, but you still owe me a story."

The train thundered on pass, moving so rapidly it was but a blur to their sight. As they watched the many boxcars that flashed by in a whirl of solid shades, neither spared the other even a glance. It was ages after before the last boxcar crossed the junction; even longer before the warnings stopped blaring and the barriers were raised. A shift in gears, and the truck was back on its way.

Accessing the glove compartment, Leon produced a small rectangle piece, and extended it in Cloud's direction. The blond hitchhiker eyed it curiously, and at last took it. "…what's this?"

"That's my family," the brunet driver explained. "I never knew of my parents until I was seventeen, and spent all that time prior in an orphanage. Those people in the photograph were the ones who grew up alongside me, so we came to think of each other as family."

"Ah…"

"Except for one of them," Leon continued, as though uninterrupted. "See that girl with highlights?"

"Yeah."

"Her name's Rinoa; we first met when the six of us signed up for military service. We…hit it off, I guess. There were few girls that were like her; she was special. When I was with her – with my family – I was happy. I could see the promise of a future ahead, once we got peace back…and I was ready to believe in it."

Cloud studied the picture before him that was in a far better condition than the small square he still held. As he saw the many radiant faces of adolescents – each so confident and ready to take on the world – he found Leon amongst them. His hair was definitely shorter, more well-kept, and while he still had that scar, he seemed more relaxed, more assured of his person.

He wasn't smiling as the others were, but it was there in his eyes – the light that brimmed over and refused to be hidden away by any reservations. In this picture of the past…he did seem happier.

Cloud lowered the photograph once more, his gaze finding and fixing itself back on the Leon he knew – the sullen, jaded man of the present.

"…'was'?"

"Four years ago, they were sent to support two of the elites," Leon explained, his tone deadpan, "as B-Unit."

The revelation washed in like an impromptu icy shower, as the brunet continued to speak without another hitch:

"I was supposed to be in there with them, but they took me out for officer training; I was to be their Lieutenant, ready to lead the team when they got back. They never did…and no one would tell me what had happened to them. By the time one of the Captains at last gave in and explained it to me, it was already too late for me to do anything.

"Quarantine was in place, and they shipped me off to a separate squad. I had new people to lead – kids that needed to live through the mess we had – and so I just kept going. For four years, I kept fighting, kept leading others to fight… I kept doing the last thing I knew would keep me sane. Then the fighting ended, and when they dismissed me with whatever honors necessary, they took that last thing with them."

His hand was out, waiting for the photograph; Cloud dropped it into the man's open palm, and Leon slipped it back into the glove compartment.

"After I left, I got hold of this truck, and have been driving along this road; it's been some months since I started, but I lost count already…" And as he withdrew his hand, he paused long enough to tap on a small black case.

"There's a gun in there – one of Irvine's; I pocketed it when no one knew the wiser – and there's just one bullet in it. When I finally reach the end of the road – when I finally have nowhere else to go, nowhere else to turn, and nothing else I can do – … I'm going to use it."

In this time and space, any spoken commentary suddenly seemed so redundant. Unnecessary. Both had revealed barely a fraction of their battered souls, and now neither was strong enough to be the support. Neither would have accepted any more help, anyway.

"…how much further to Midgar?"

"We'll be there in an hour or so."

Story time was over.

At Cloud's direction, the old Daytona soon turned into a break in the plate, now a dirt road leading directly into the slums. It took some more careful maneuvering before they at last found the old church. Leon pulled over, and Cloud reached behind the seats to snag his pack.

"Well, thanks for the lift."

The door slammed shut behind him, and Cloud started to walk toward the church steps, his backpack suddenly an awkward weight on his shoulders. When he did not hear the truck's engine for several seconds, he turned back.

The Daytona was still there, and the driver still seated behind the wheel, staring into space…looking lost.

"… Leon." As the man turned at the call, Cloud jerked his thumb in the direction of the church. "You want to go in?"

Expression a tad distasteful, Leon quirked his brow. "… What for?"

"Don't go to bed angry," Cloud answered solemnly. "Before you reach that end you're heading for… I think you'd feel better knowing you've made your peace."

At first, Leon did not move from his seat, silently regarding Cloud before him, and the church that was behind the blond. Then slowly, but surely, he took his hand off the steering wheel. Removing his keys from the ignition, he stepped out of the truck at last…

"… I'm sorry, Aerith."

"It's not your fault; I'm sure there was nothing anyone could do… At least…" –she paused, gathering up her strength-"At least he's not suffering anymore."

Before this girl that was so much stronger than he was, Cloud could only look away. "…yeah."

"Thank you for telling me, Cloud; it means a lot."

"It's the least I could do."

"…is your friend alright?"

At the sudden change in topic, Cloud looked back across the church, to where his newfound friend sat in the pews. Facing the altar, Leon's head was bowed, hands clasped before him in prayer. In a final conversation with the Almighty…

No, Cloud knew. A man that had lost faith in living was not alright. And yet, there was nothing he could do about it.

"… Cloud?"

"He had loved ones in Nibelheim as well," he explained, for Aerith's benefit more than anything else, "and now he's alone. All he can see is a path leading to death, and the last thing he needs now is an intervention from someone who can't help him."

"Maybe what he does need," the lady was replying, "is just someone willing to walk with him part of the way."

"He doesn't want me to follow him," he muttered bitterly. "I'm his last good deed, and then it's just a little further before he calls it quits once and for all."

"And are you ready to just let him go?"

As he let the weight of that simple question sink in, Cloud stared at the back of the man still deep in his prayer. Here was a man he barely knew, that happened to find him as a hitchhiker before taking care of him, all out of a dying man's impulsive goodwill. Here was someone that wanted to end it all so badly, that he no longer had anything to lose.

Having acquainted – befriended – himself with such a person was dangerous; he knew that much. He knew, also, that there was no turning back now.

A hand was on his shoulder; Cloud turned to stare into the gentle green eyes of Aerith; of Zack's angel.

"…have you figured out what you want to do, now?"

For someone initially reluctant to enter the church, Leon's prayer took longer than Cloud expected. He was still in the same posture as before by the time the blond had finished talking with Aerith, and she in turn had stepped outside momentarily – to give them all the space they needed, apparently.

"…hey."

With a soft huff, Leon at last opened his eyes and tilted his head back up, staring blankly at the clean, empty slate that was the wall beyond. "…you settled things with the girl?"

"Sure I have," Cloud replied, tone casual once more. "She's doing alright – she's been selling flowers for a living; quite a good business, from what I hear."

"That's good." With that said, Leon straightened, preparing to rise. "Be sure to take care of her."

"Say," Cloud cut in at once, "there's something else."

"Yeah?"

"If I promise not to interfere…can I keep riding with you?"

Cynical, Leon snorted and turned away. "Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I'll keep it," Cloud asserted. "Just let me see this through."

"See what through?"

"Your life's story – I need to see it to the very end."

"… I'd rather you not," Leon admitted at last. "Being helpless…useless… If you go with me, you're going to feel that way when the time comes. It's going to hurt."

"At least until then," Cloud replied in turn, "it'll be a little less lonely."

Finally, Leon turned to look at him, seeming to regard him – truly – for the first time. As those gray-blue orbs finally trained on him, gaze unyielding, he stared back with equal intensity, equal earnestness.

"…if I don't think I can keep my word, I'll leave on my own. Will that do?"

Leon did not answer right away; it was with a loud rushed release of breath as he rose to his feet and crossed the length of the pew.

"There's still some daylight left – that's about a few hours of travel to cover before nightfall. Let's get going."

The journey that followed was a quiet one; a somber air had settled within the cabin, as the old Daytona continued traveling down the dusty road, toward a destination that was surely getting closer with every second that came to past.

Somewhere along the way, Leon had opened his glove compartment again, the small black box visible to the both of them; it was a reminder of Cloud's promise, as much as Leon's own resolve. Still, neither looked at it even once, each focused on something else.

"…you know," Leon suddenly commented, the first to talk since they left the church, "you're okay. For a hitchhiker. I wonder if things could have been different, if only I met you sooner."

Cloud gave no verbal reply; words seemed redundant, suddenly. Something was coming up now, and they both could feel it.

"…didn't expect it this soon, but…remember your promise."

"…yeah."

"You're right, though…" and Leon finally looked Cloud's way, though his expression remained unchanged. "The time I spent with you…it was a little less lonely. It gave me something else to think about."

"And still, you're doing this."

"It's the last thing I have left to do."

Still, the old Daytona moved onward, and the ominous feeling that had crept upon them both became more and more apparent now. Cloud drew in a long, needed breath, trying to clear his mind for what was inevitable.

He had asked for this, and he was about to get it. No matter how wrong it seemed right now…

…damn it, with just one chance… If this is the one thing in life that I can do right, let it be this. Give me more time…please…

And suddenly the Daytona pulled to an abrupt halt, shocking him right out of his desperate thoughts. He turned to Leon, seeking an explanation, and instead all he saw was an expression as flustered and confused as his own.

"…just what the hell is…?"

It was then that Cloud saw what was ahead as well: a road block. Beyond it, construction machinery. Smoke was billowing from a definite gaping hole in the road's center beyond the barriers, and men were hollering at one another as work proceeded.

The two were still sitting there – the truck unmoving – as one of the workers hopped over the road block and came up to them. Chewing on a cigarette stub, the grizzled character squinted at them for a moment – as though sizing them up – before baring his teeth to speak around said stub.

"You can't stop here, kid," he uttered gruffly, thumb up and gesturing pointedly in a different direction. "Go on; get your ass out of here. Beat it."

Numbly, Leon obliged him without a word of protest, and the Daytona turned and headed back up the road from where they had come. The old truck rattled on for a while, until they were out of sight, before rolling to a halt once more. Side by side, Leon and Cloud bore identical expressions as they in turn shared the same thought:

Just what the hell happened back there?

Suddenly, Leon let out a loud curse and slammed his hand over the wheel, the horn blaring out into the empty terrain about them. His entire countenance tense and furious, he continued to pound on the wheel with a vengeance, curses rolling off his tongue with such color that a sailor would blush.

From his seat, Cloud could only do as he had planned from the start: to watch. He stared openly as the brunet kept whacking the horn over and over again, kept shouting and ranting about the sudden turn of events that neither had expected.

The hand stopped at last, gripping the wheel so tightly that leather gloves grinded audibly against vinyl. Finally, Leon lowered his head to rest upon the wheel's rim, his entire frame sinking with exhaustion.

"Even this damn road is pissing on me," he muttered darkly. "I've already lost so much…couldn't do a thing for them, and now I can't even choose how I die. Even in the end, I'm just…damn it, I really am useless. Even now…

"Why can't I do anything…?"

It was at last that Cloud understood; as much as he had rejected this plan, he understood it – it had been the one thing that gave Leon a sense of purpose; that he was not as powerless as he thought.

Now, with even that ripped from him, he was a mess. Fate had saved his life, but what was left of his already damaged self-worth…it was so broken now, that there were too many broken pieces to count.

"… Hey, Leon, look there."

Waiting for the other to at last respond, Cloud gestured toward the stretch that was ahead, the path that bent away and curved into the horizon.

"That end of the road you were looking for – that wasn't it back there," he pointed out. "That was just a detour."

"And what about it?"

"You've still got some road left. Some road, and maybe a few more detours, but the end's still out there, waiting… It's just not time for you to reach it yet."

Leon was silent once more, staring out at the road as though seeing it for the first time. His hand remained curled around the steering wheel's rim, but was more relaxed than before as he slowly adopted a thoughtful expression.

"… Funny, really… I suddenly don't know anymore," he uttered, tone giving away his state of disorientation. "Just what am I supposed to do?"

"Keep moving forward, I guess," Cloud supplied. "…what have you got to lose?"

"…what, indeed…"

It seemed an eternity before the hand moved at last. Taking hold of the stick, Leon shifted gears, and the old Daytona was moving once more, steadily regaining its usual pace. And within the cabin, the driver turned slightly to regard his passenger.

"How about dinner? We haven't eaten all day."

"Sounds good to me."

"… Say…" and as he fully caught the other's attention, the driver continued, "If we find a diner…how about we get those fritters and chocolate shakes again?"

At last, the passenger smirked as he retorted, "you want to try it, huh?"

"…why not? So what other weird combinations are good?"

As light conversation filled the once quiet cabin, the old Daytona rattled along the road, as it had always done, toward a destination neither could yet see. For now, the journey seemed endless, as filled with ambiguity as when they had first met.

And for the sake of the troubled one beside him, Cloud hoped that it would stay that way…