The Awakening

The first things that he started hearing is not birds chirping, music playing, or people singing. Nothing as happy as that; after all, this isn't a fairy tale. It's the sound of something he can't quite place his finger on. A constant buzzing in his ears that he can't be sure is an actual source or just his ears messing with him; however, the fact that he hears something speaks volumes to him. He's alive. He's alive. He has to think it through more than once to just to make sure he isn't being stupid and imagining things. Then he has to tell himself that if he thinks he's imagining things, that alone should be enough to know that he's alive.

He never was the brightest crayon in the box; always opting to take action rather than think things through logically. When you pretty much given up any chance on survival and actually accept the fact that you're going to die, it comes to be quite a shock when you manage to survive.

He tries opening his eyes, a feat much more difficult than it should truly be. It seemed like the muscles in his eyelids are just as sore and tired as the rest of him. He has to find out though, he has to see to truly believe; he needs confirmation on his survival. So he forces them to cooperate with sheer willpower, despite the fact that he has next to none at the moment; but, that is slowly building back up back the second as well.

Hazy, clouded ceiling, plain white, minus a few water stains that sat in the center of the ceiling, meet his eyes. He stares at it, thoughtless, for quite some time until his eyes begin to hurt. Not from being opened for so long but for starring at something so bright and unfocused. It seems like he hasn't opened his eyes in days because he's having issues with adjusting to the light in the room. Which is strange considering it looks quite dark, minus the soft glow of the small lamp in the corner, giving barely any light in the room to begin with.

He tries to turn his head but lacks the energy to do so; he just moves his eyes to try and figure out exactly where he currently is. The walls have the same shade as the ceiling, so they have to be white as well, and he's happy he doesn't have full lighting because all that white may very well blind him. To his left stood a machine buzzing softly, beeping every now and then. He tried gaining more focus on the screen in an attempt to read the numbers on it, but couldn't see anything minus blurred out lines. He knows what the machine is, and it also explains the buzzing he had heard upon waking up.

He took note of an IV attached to it with a tube leading down towards him, undoubtedly he has a needle in his arm or elsewhere. It's not filled with blood, which means that he's already been giving a blood transfusion or two, so he can't be sure what it's doing for him. Logically, if he thinks about it, it would most likely be antibiotics to ward off infections.

Behind the machine is just a wall, it has a window but drapes are drawn and blinds are closed to keep out the sunlight. If there is sunlight, he can't tell if it's night or day since it doesn't seem to allow anything to seep through. Not your average looking drapes for a hospital room either, it looks like it has flowers printed on it, or something in the shape of flowers. Again he can't really tell at the moment, his vision isn't cooperating with him, and there's the whole issue with the lack of proper lighting.

With his investigation with the left side complete, he rolls his eyes to the right side. A chair is sitting next to the bed, it doesn't look particularly comfortable either. Worn, wooden, and splintered chipping away off the edges. It's seated at the side and facing him. It's empty at the moment, but Zack can guess that there has been at least one person sitting in it; otherwise, why is it there in the first place?

A plain dresser sits against the far wall with a mirror resting on top of it. The surface of it is clean and bare: no pictures, jewelry, pictures; nothing to hint at where he is. He's now convinced; however, that he isn't in a hospital bed, which is good news and bad news. Good news because that means he's not somewhere that Shin-Ra will be able to track him down and finish the job they started. Bad news because he is weak, helpless, and in a strange place. He doesn't know who is taking care of him, or if they want something in return. If they do expect something in return he'd gladly pay it; it's the least he can do, they did save him. He's not some jack ass who just plainly thanks someone for help and walks off. His mother raised him much better than that.

His eyes drift back to the ceiling, finished with his investigation. He can't really see the whole room without moving, and movement doesn't seem like a choice in the moment. If he could move, he would have already started scratching at his body. It seemed like anything that can possibly irritate the skin is attacking him at once, it's annoying as hell, but he can't very well help himself either.

'Okay Zack.' He thought to himself, not trusting his voice enough to be able to speak, '… as hard as it is to believe, you survived. Obviously you're dealing with serious injuries, but you can live through them too.'

He had been aware since he woke up that his body is in a lot of pain. Not to mention that breathing seems to hurt a hell of a lot at the moment. He was pretty sure when laying on the cliff that his lungs had been shot. 'They must have missed one.' He thought to himself humorously.

Sweat beaded across his entire face and he blinked it out of his eyes before the salty perspiration could irritate his eyes. He has enough irritation happening on the rest of his body, he doesn't need an excuse to mentally whine about not being able to rub at his eyes.

'Wonder how long I've been out.' He wouldn't be surprised if it's been a whole day or two, he did take quite a beating out there. Then again, he has to remind himself, he'd hate to see the other guys. He'd smile at the moment if he could, but even his face feels so numb and sore at the same time that he doesn't want to try any unnecessary movement.

'I'm hungry.' He glanced around briefing with his eyes again for something remotely interesting to look at, '…And bored. I wish there was a television on in here.' His list of complaints are already forming in his mind. He has absolutely nothing but his own thoughts to pass the time with. That's not something someone who has an attention problem can do quite easily. Especially when he can hardly sit still most days.

'Wonder if Cloud made it to Midgar.' He let out a long breath as he continued starring at the ceiling. In his mind he envisioned Cloud succeeding to reach Midgar; however, at the same time something also dreadful lurked in the back of the Ex-SOLDIER's mind. 'Hope he's recovered from the Mako poison… Hell I hope he can take care of himself out there.'

One would probably find it strange that he's more worried about someone else than himself while in the position he's in. The way Zack sees it; however, is that his current predicament cannot be helped. That and he just always put other's wellbeing before his own to begin with. Again he let out a long breath, finding it easier to take slower, longer breaths than normal breathing habits.

'Wonder if Aerith is doing alright.' Mentally he smiled at the thought of the girl in the Slums. 'Wonder if she's still waiting for me to come home. Still tending to those flowers, selling them. Man… I still have to fix that wagon, don't I? Hopefully she found someone to help her with it. Or maybe she found some other way to carry them. Better yet, I hope she actually is successfully selling them. Then again, maybe she has better luck selling flowers when I'm not around.'

He thought about that for a moment or two. It's true when he thinks about it, if she sells them alone he can imagine guys would line up and purchase them from her, with hopes of obtaining her name and number at the same time. That thought worried him a bit, some of the men in the Slums aren't exactly safe to be around. 'Hopefully she can keep away from them until I get there.'

He also hopes that she hadn't completely forgotten about him yet. It would not do if he had come all this way, gone through everything he has gone through, just to find her with someone else. At the same time; however, he would not blame her. It has been years since he's last spoken to her, or contacted her. Even if it didn't seem that long ago to him. He had been in a test tube for quite some time, unaware of time, or anything else for that matter.

'If she's still waiting, I'll have to make it up to her. Take her to a nice place for dinner. Maybe I'll even show her what the sky looks like.' He always hoped that he'd get to show her the sky, she said she's afraid of it, but that's silly. He knows that if she saw it, she'd know how beautiful and wonderful the sky is, and the endless possibilities that it truly symbolizes for life. Better yet would be to show her the sky at night, show her the stars. The sky is beautiful during the day, but at night it almost seems magical in a sense.

He let out another long breath and almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a door opening. He tries to look to where he believes the door is, but can barely see with his head leaned back so much. He hears the sound of the door shutting once more and soft footsteps echo in the room; informing him that the floor is made of wood based on the sound the heels make when falling on it.

Long brownish red curls are the first thing to catch in his vision; a familiar sight. Soon he can make out a face, and the unmistakable color of brown eyes, with a tint of red that matches the hair. He hears her place something down on the chair, her head remaining tilted to the point that her hair covers her face from the current angle. The sleeves are rolled up on her Turk uniform as she reaches down. The sound of water splashing into a pan rings in his ears before she reaches her hand up while holding a cloth. Her face turns to look at his while she's about to pat him down. Her eyes lock onto his, and she freezes in her movement.

He just continues to stare at her just as she does to him. He would smile like he always does, and would probably laugh at the expression written across her face now that she realizes that he is indeed awake. To be honest, he isn't as shocked as you would think to find himself under the care of Cissnei. Not to say that he isn't shocked at all. Shin-Ra wants him eliminated, but along the way the Turks, or more specifically, Cissnei, had helped him escape up to the point of the cliff.

It only seems natural that she would come to him if she caught wind that the subjects were found by the army. She probably had been flying a helicopter and heading his way even while he had fought. At least he doesn't have to worry about being cared for by some strange weirdo. Cissnei will at least, try to keep him safe, and the knowledge of his livelihood out of Shin-Ra's network. At least, as long as she possibly can. Hopefully he will be fully recovered and able to defend himself when the time comes.

Getting over her initial shock, she placed the wet cloth on his forehead. He feels the cool water in it, and feels relieved that the cloth is there. He tries speaking, but can't force himself to utter a word. A sound escaped, incoherent, or croaked. Almost like he had just choked something down.

Cissnei just shakes her head at him, her facial features flat and unreadable. Just like a Turk. "Don't speak. Your in no condition to do so."

'Your telling me.'

She patted the sides of his face with the cloth to gather up the perspiration that had been gathering on his face before rinsing the cloth in the pan of water again. It returned to his forehead, much to his satisfaction. He kept his eyes trained on her; after all, she's much more interesting to look at than the water stain on the ceiling. He watched as she dropped to her knees beside his bed instead of just moving the pan off the seat and sitting in the chair. She can be weird at times.

"You were out for almost five days." She stated, answering one of his unspoken questions. "We had a doctor from the slums come in and tend to your injuries. It didn't look like you were going to make it the first two nights." Any emotion: grief, sadness, anger, or concern, that she may feel at the moment he couldn't see or hear. Turks are masters at hiding things, emotions included. Most people just think Turks don't have emotions. Zack knows better.

"You'll probably be bedridden for awhile. At least until you get your strength back. You'll need to go through some therapy as well. That's what the doctor said, if you survived that long. You have a fever but you don't have infections, probably from the rain that night."

This is why Zack always liked Cissnei, she always seems to know what to answer without him ever asking the questions. Maybe it's because she's the mother hen of the flock from the Turks, but whatever it is, he's just happy that a lot of his questions are being answered. It's obvious that she had been the one to get him off the cliff and get medical attention. The fact that she said 'we' leads him to believe that one or two other members of the Turks may have helped her, unless she knows Kunsel and winged him in the effort to save him.

"You won't be given any more pain medication, you've already been given too much." He figured that was the case to begin with, "You'll just have to toughen it out for a day or two. Shouldn't be a problem for a SOLDIER."

He almost rolls his eyes at that, but thinks better of it. He can only just stare at her and listen, rather than voice any of his thoughts, despite his need to crack or joke, or make a jest for her own behalf as well as his. He's the type that likes to have humor in life, in any given situation. Life is too short, and his almost ended.

She just stares in his direction, not exactly at him; almost like she's seeing through him. He could just be too zonked out on whatever medication has been given to him already though, "It's good you're awake though. That's a big step in surviving."

She stands up from her spot on the ground and grabs the cloth from his forehead before dropping it back into the pan. "You need to focus on resting and only that." Her arms cross over her stomach, her hands holding onto her elbows, "Don't try to move or else you'll tear the stitches, and I won't be too thrilled to be dealing with you bleeding all over my bed." Her brows shoot up as she gives him the 'look' that tells him that hell will be paid if he disobeys her rule.

She picks up the pan and makes to leave. She stops at the end of the bed; however, and Zack locks his eyes with her once she glances over her shoulder at him, "I'm.. happy that you're fighting to survive Zack. I thought I lost you there for a moment." With that she takes her leave, allowing him to be alone in the room once more.

'…I'm still hungry.' He thinks to himself miserably. The only sympathy he gains his the machine beeping at his side.