Cloud coughed, blood pooling on his lips.

Ah, Zack, he thought, what would you think if you could see me now…

The mako in his eyes was beginning to fade. Cloud knew the sword had pierced his lung. No materia was going to save him from this serious an injury…

Cloud coughed again and closed his eyes. The salty rainwater was beginning to sting and he had no energy left to roll over or cover his eyes with his hands.

He looked down at his hand; the buster blade, covered in blood, rested in his limp fingers. He remembered how he had got the sword, how Zack had been lying in this very position all those years ago. How he, Cloud, had been spared by Zack's determination for freedom. A single drop of water ran down his face, too warm to be rain.

But unlike Zack, he was alone. He had no-one to protect anymore, no-one to carry on his name. Zack would be disappointed when he met him again.

Cloud opened his eyes again and stared at the dark grey sky. He wondered if his body would ever be found. If it was, he wondered if he would even be recognised anymore. There was no-one that knew him still alive, the city having been blown apart a year ago. Cloud had left after that, having nothing to keep him in the city bar memories too sad to face. He regretted that now.

He coughed again, his breath no longer coming to him. He knew this was the end and was ready to face it. He closed his eyes to the cold, lonely world he was leaving.

He heard a familiar voice in his ear

"Hello, Spiky. Did you miss us?"

Cloud smiled faintly, knowing he was once more going to be with people he knew and loved.

He felt his body getting heavier and could feel the world getting darker beyond his eyelids.

Yes, he thought.

Yes I did.