Summary: It is too soon to tell if this was a good idea. Suspicions run high, while uncertainty reigns over more than one mind. You brought her here to die? Or to live? What kind of life is this anyway…and will you both be able to face it for what it truly is?
Word Count: 8,633
Warning: It gets a little graphic and disgusting when the injuries are described.
A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone that reviewed. I…am still shocked by how much feedback I've gotten for this story, when it was only in its first chapter. Your reviews are as gratifying as is writing, and I can't hide the fact that they're both intimately connected. Because of that, I am dedicating this second chapter to the ten of you that took the time out to stand by this fic and wait endlessly, in some cases, for an update. I thank you.
Spiritfire88 and elle XVI: I would like to someday thank you in a better manner than I am now, but I wanted to take out the time to personally reassure you both, since your concerns are the same. I wrote it countless times on my profile as I updated this or that, and now I will embed it in this fic permanently as a reassurance. I promise I will not abandon this story. -Smiles-
IVIaedhros and niconugget: It is quite the unusual pairing… It's going to take also quite a bit of work to make it actually feasible. With or without the confidence of others, I know I've got your backing, and I hope to live up to your expectations. Enjoy the fireworks along the way!
Captain Deadpool and Spock94: Thank you both endlessly for your compliments and faith in me! It is flattering, but more so…it gives me confidence of a kind I'm not certain I can explain. I'm just so happy to know I have your support! n_n It means the world. Truly~
RogerDering, Coca-Cola, and caiko7lovely: I agree absolutely! Cloud and Rosso are quite the rare concept indeed. It would be wonderful to see what other ideas people have for their potential together. -Claps hands delightedly!- Onwards, it shall go! Hopefully others too will take up the pairing soon! :D
Shigeki-Hizashi: Ahmm, well she wouldn't have been repeating it like a broken record. -Chuckles- In fact, I imagined her to have mentioned it once, twice… enough times that it would be noteworthy, not repetitive per se. Thank you for commenting too! -Smiles brightly-
. . . . . . .
Chapter Two: Mideel
. . . . . . .
Clouds were rolling in. On the ground, a figure raised a hand into the air, signaling the airship. The whirling rotors increased in speed. Great jets of air were spurred to life beneath the engines to an enormous roar of sound. The Shera lifted. The lone figure on the ground dropped their arm forcefully, trotting out of the way of the rising craft. A great hissing rushed from the base of the ship before metal gateways were opened, releasing new streams of air and sending the ship dramatically upwards, its speed increased twofold.
It crested on a high current and gears were switched promptly. A shift in the rushing engines rocked the ship forward and it nudged itself downwards into the stream. A cold wind splashed over the Shera as it settled into the current, engines smoothing out audibly as a rumbled whirring overtook the other mechanisms. The Shera broke into the sky's veil and was lost to sight. The figure on the asphalt stared after it for a minute longer before reaching into a pocket. It pulled out a phone and brought it to its ear.
. . . . . . .
"They've taken off."
. . . . . . .
The cabin was quiet. A few crew members at control panels monitored various aspects of the airship's functions, from the engines and wing function to changes in wind speed and weather, ensuring a flawless and steady flight. They, however, were engrossed in their work. Atop the raised platform in the cabin, the Shera's blonde captain leaned slightly atop the large wheel. His steel blue eyes were riveted on the thick, bland gray clouds past the cabin's spherical window. They curled and parted unwillingly to let the ship pass, as though great lazy felines being prodded to move from the path upon which they laid in lethargic repose.
The soft hiss of an airlock releasing drew his gaze away from the endless sight to the open door of the cabin. "Humph," the pilot commented vocally. "Was wondering when ya'd show up." The darkly adorned man took this as his invitation to join the other blonde at the wheel, following the captain's line of sight out the front of the ship. "How are things in the back?" the captain continued, quieter. They had been airborne for some twenty minutes, and only now had Cloud shown face from out of the back control room that had been deserted except for one stray, unusual passenger.
"Quiet," the other blonde replied, his vivid blue eyes searching the clouds that bore his name for some sign of a change in the monotony. Ever since the outrageous decision he had made a short hour prior, things had become all too still. While Edge celebrated and the W.R.O. worked at repairs, the former members of Avalanche that had seen their leader choose to put his freedom and possibly life on the line yet again were subdued. Questions they dared not ask were in their faces and on the tips of their tongues. Even those that attempted to uncover the purpose of the disconcerting act were disappointed or left foundering. Not that Cloud kept his reasons secret. But because they did not want to believe, or understood all too well, the reason why.
"Nothing's changed then? She still out cold?" The pilot could not keep the slight agitation out of his voice when he asked. Cloud did not answer at first. Then he stepped up to the railing that separated the raised deck from the rest of the cabin, placing a hand on it. Cid watched him for only a moment. "Guess Reeve was right then," he answered himself, muttering the words. The spiky haired blonde remained silent.
"'ey Cloud," the captain attempted again, this time the words slower, quieter. "Can I ask ya something?" After a pause, the blonde nodded, saying nothing. Though he still continued to look forward, eyes patiently studying the sight before them, a door had been opened welcomingly to the older male. Unlike before, the situation he found himself in now was immensely more comfortable than the one in the W.R.O. facilities. There were no accusations to be faced here. Merely Cid's inquisitiveness. It, unlike that of any of his other companions, could be guaranteed back to a humble desire and concern for his wellbeing. Thus, heartened a little by the openness of the quiet man, the pilot placed his hands back on the steering wheel and voiced his thoughts.
"I can get why yer doing this, Cloud," the middle aged man began. A confession, not a reasoning tactic building up towards debate and opposition. "After all, we should all know who ya were thinking of when ya asked ta take on the responsibility." He shook his head. "Tifa wasn't taking that inta consideration when she asked ya ta reconsider. An' ya know full well she wasn't thinking of what ya wanted."
"That's why I appreciated it when Barret offered to take her home," Cloud acknowledged, his voice still quiet.
Cid nodded slowly, waving a hand as though to say what didn't need to be voiced. "That too," he agreed. "Anyways, what ya choose to do with 'er is yer decision, though that was a little cold of ya." The other blonde said nothing, instead a faint fog came over his face. "Th-that's not the point though, dammit!" Cid roughly objected. "I get why ya did it," he said again, sterner this time, demanding the man's attention. "She was too emotional, an' she's unreasonable when it comes ta these things. Ya had it right when ya said if she didn't get it, there'd be no point in explaining it anymore."
"Cid," Cloud said a little tiredly, still not looking at the man. "If I wanted to hear this, I'd talk to anyone else." He knew from experience the pilot could go off on tangents depending on the subject. Most of the time, Cloud never had an objection to make when he started in on one. It was comforting listening to the other man complain and curse about whatever had him steaming from the ears. Perhaps it was the magnitude of the battle that had ended a day before still weighing heavily on his mind. So many people had died, and so many horrors beyond their wildest beliefs been unearthed that it shocked even their avidly anti-Shin-Ra group, Avalanche.
Just when they thought they'd seen it all…. A new terrible arc rose and sought to destroy the fragilely rebuilt peace they had finally thought was securely theirs. This had happened before, too. Twice already, the world had been plagued and threatened. First by Geostigma, later by the arrival of the remnants of Sephiroth's failed experiments. Was peace truly so fickle? Was happiness so hard to obtain…?
No.
They had happiness. Even throughout all the horrors and miseries they faced, there was still joy in the things they cherished. Unto death and beyond the grave. These were the things that kept such a world as the Planet's at peace even in its darkest hours. Hope and joy, the tender healing of love for the people and world they cared for.
"I'm sorry, Cloud."
Bright mako-tinted eyes turned on the repenting blue of the pilot's. The former cadet gave a faint nod to reassure his friend. "What were you going to say, Cid?" he encouraged the man to continue.
"Things I didn't wanna say in front of the others," Cid confessed, brows wrinkling and mouth tilting sideways in irritation or anxiousness. He didn't say anything else as he tried to recall what it was he had been thinking to tell the young lone wolf. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, snapping his fingers in front of his face. "I wanted ta ask ya," he continued. "What ya thought of Reeve's explanations."
Cloud's eyebrows rose faintly and he turned around completely to face Cid at the steering wheel.
"I ask ya 'cause, ta be frank, it was all sounding very fishy ta me. Suspicious, ya know what I mean?" He grumbled and checked their direction before going on. "Reeve's got his good intentions, but I'm getting mighty tired of lettin' some of his Shin-Ra stuff git past us. The crap he comes up with can be helpful, but it's also weird ass shit. I can sit back an' be happy about it, or I can pat ya on the back an' tell ya I'd trust ya more in a million years than him with somebody like that woman ya got in my ship.
"An' the reason I'm bringing it up!" he continued before the other man was able to respond, though Cloud continued to merely listen and had not once attempted to interrupt Cid as he spoke. "Is 'cause ya feel the same way." Calm steel blue eyes turned on the clear blue of his younger companion's. "I got the message figured out when ya said ya already had a place figured fer this little delivery trip."
Cloud stared back at his friend and then nodded. "I didn't like the way any of you were talking about her," he confessed and turned away from the pilot, stepping back to the railing and gazing at the ship windshield.
"An' I'm sticking by it," Cid responded. Then he grumbled loudly, snorting abruptly. "The only reason I'm going along with this little escapade of yers, Cloud, is that ya've proven us wrong before. An' I know none of us can do much of anything fer this…lady." He grunted and nodded at the spiky haired man. "But ya can."
The darkly-adorned blonde searched the clouds in front of them silently. "Don't tell them where I'm going, Cid." It was a request, not a command.
Cid laughed mirthlessly, a barking sound in the quiet cabin. "Ha! Don't ya worry, kid," he grinned. "If yer gonna wanna have any chance of surviving this ordeal, then I'll keep them as far away from ya as I can." He paused a moment. "Fer yer sake," he finished lowly.
"Thanks," Cloud answered, a slight edge of laughter coming into his voice.
The Shera's captain shook his head, lightly swiping his thumb against his nose as he finally broke into a crooked grin. "'ey, save it. I can tell already, by the time yer through with favors from me, I'm gonna wanna choke the ever-lovin' shit outta ya and yer thank you's. Now, would ya mind telling me where I'm going with yer skinny ass?"
Cloud looked almost as though he would smile.
. . . . . . .
"Mideel."
. . . . . . .
The further southeast they had flown, the darker the skies and their clouds grew, until the Shera was fighting to break through a storm that would not cease. Either it followed them along to their destination, or it was wide enough to cover half a continent and then some. Landing on the decent sized, but mostly uninhabited island that held the tiny village of Mideel was a challenge in and of itself. The grassy plains, not far between the raging ocean and dense tropical forest, were slick and soft from the storm rains. The airship, Cid said, could not remain in its chosen location for more than half an hour, or takeoff would prove difficult. They could push an hour, but beyond that, it would become almost impossible and damaging to the landing and internal storage gear of the ship.
As Cloud stepped out onto the thin grassy alcove on the southern side of the island, the rain already drenching him, he asked if Cid could provide a makeshift shelter for him. "What, ya gonna set up tent with an injured woman in yer care? Even if she was well and perfectly sane this is a fucking bad idea! Look at the weather!" the pilot shouted back, watching as Cloud climbed up the ramp into the ship again. The Avalanche leader placed a hand on the other blonde's shoulder and nodded. "Then you'd better help me get it up," he replied.
The Shera's captain cursed and stomped deeper into his ship.
It took about fifteen minutes to locate and put up a sturdy, weatherproofed tent in the borderline of the trees. Cid asked few questions and focused mostly on helping Cloud cart the few supplies he had requested into the small shelter, which was then zipped up securely. "Think the bugs'll get inta it?" Cid asked. Cloud shook his head. "Everything's sealed. Even if they got into the tent, nothing would be scented or damageable." The pilot grunted and followed the other blonde through the airship.
Pausing before the control room to open the door, Cloud did not need to glance back to know Cid would follow him inside. As the two men entered, the captain closed the door behind them. He did not make it a habit to hide things from his crew, but the last thing either of them wanted was others gawking at the most noteworthy cargo currently on the Shera. Clothed in long white slacks and a shapeless white shirt with long sleeves to match, the Crimson Tsviet was strapped gently and securely down in a reclined chair, a thick blanket over her to keep any chills away from her during the long trip. Swiftly both men went to work, and as Cid took off the blanket, Cloud carefully unbuckled the woman from the makeshift seatbelts. More than half an hour had already passed. Time was running out. Only the unconscious woman Cloud wrapped once more in the warm gray blanket, and lifted gingerly into his arms, was unaware of the essence of their speed.
"How're ya gonna carry her through that?" Cid asked as he walked ahead of the blonde, holding the door open for him wherever needed until they reached the exit ramp. "It's raining cats an' dogs out there, Cloud!"
"Captain!" A crewman called out from on the ground. "It's let up finally," he said cheerfully as he walked back up the ramp and onto the ship.
"But we dunno how long it'll hold!" Cid countered and turned to Cloud. "Welp! Get yer ass moving, 'cause if it starts ta rain again, ya'll BOTH get it from me!"
"You've got the right," Cloud responded and stepped down onto the thick, springy grass of the southern field. "I'll be in touch," he assured as he started walking.
"Ya'd better be!" Cid shouted after him. "Else I'll drop ya off with the goblins next time, from fifty feet up!" With a grinding sound, the metal gears began to work and the ramp hissed as it rose. "Alright, get back ta work!" Cloud could hear the blonde captain yelling to his crew. Careful not to jar the woman in his arms unwittingly, he sped up his pace until he reached the edge of the woods. Behind him, he could hear the thunderous gusts and whirring of the Shera as it began to lift off.
Now he would follow the forest until the grassland disappeared, and then take a reclusive path hidden in the thick foliage that would lead him to his destination, one mile west of Mideel village.
From the cabin of the Shera, Cid watched the figure adorned in black carrying the one in gray and white further away until the ship crested and turned away from Mideel, back to Edge. Unspoken thoughts lingered on his mind, made all the more dominant as he lost sight of his fellow companion. He had meant to say more to Cloud, but somehow, could not bring himself to.
. . . . . . .
"I saw ya. Fighting with her…
…and talking.
What did she say ta ya, I wonder?"
. . . . . . .
Deep brown stone made up the exterior of the multi-room cabin, giving it a rough-hewn and multi-shaded appearance that allowed it to blend easily into its surroundings. Three steps led up to the only door, a small rectangular window embedded in the stone on its left side. Everything else—it was soon found—that wasn't stone, was wood. Upon entering the cabin, one was in a small door-less room that functioned as an entrance, a storage room and a half-closet. To the left was an area where plenty of clothes for all weather types hung, while a small shoe rack was included underneath. On the right, a deeper section was blocked off by a heavy material curtain in a light taupe color which hid the pantry. Past the three to four feet that spanned this section, one was greeted by the sight of the living room. The furnishings, which included two couches, a low coffee table of sorts, three end tables—two around one couch, one beside the other—and a couple of high-back lounge chairs, were arranged in a loosely intimate, circular pattern. And while the floor was hardwood, a large rug covered most of the area where the furniture sat. This included the area closest to the right side of the room, into which a fireplace was set in more stone, with a wooden shelf built atop its mantel.
There were no lights in the area, and the only lamps that could be found were gasoline, or replaced by candles. This would be the theme throughout the rest of the house. In place of lights, plenty of windows were spotted throughout the large room, though thick curtains blocked anyone from seeing into the house or out of it currently. In the back of the cabin was the only bedroom, and to the left an open-arced doorway led into the kitchen. The small space and warmly hued fixtures made the cabin cozy, emphasized by the dim lighting and the uneven stones that made up the walls. Picturesque paintings of landscapes hung on the walls, framed in intricately carved wood. Though the place was rarely visited, and thus a strange home even to the Avalanche leader who'd invested in it some time ago, everything from the unlit fire to the cushiony rug underfoot was reassuring…and secure. It was hidden, and those that knew it existed, did not go seeking it out unless in extreme circumstances.
Softly Cloud stepped through the cabin, taking the unconscious woman into the bedroom. He was careful to place her upon the bed slowly, without jarring or dropping any of her limbs. After laying her down, softly he went over each of her injuries, keeping in mind the last words of Reeve. 'Make certain to elevate her legs, and that her neck has proper support so cramps do not develop, it says here. With the amount of head trauma she's suffered, the last thing you want is for a pinched or locked muscle to injure her cranium further, the doctor kept reminding me. Also, keep her warm.' He had been relaying the information from one of the physicians he had contacted about the woman's transport. Though the former Shin-Ra executive had made sure to leave a copy of the Crimson's caretaking needs, Cloud had left that back with the rest of the supplies at the forest edge. He would not need it now.
When he was certain she was resting safely, he turned to the closet and pulled from it two additional blankets, one thinner than the other, along with several pillows. Mellifluously he did as he had been instructed, resting her calves upon two pillows and ensuring the one beneath her head curved to support the back of her neck while not putting too much pressure on it. It was nothing he had any expertise in. In fact, he felt awkward.
After gazing over the strange setup his eyes rested on her bare feet. Hesitantly he reached out for another pillow, paused. Then he stepped closer to the foot of the bed and lifted up the pillow. He placed it against the soles of her feet, but immediately saw it would not work. Laying the pillow flat, he turned once more to the closet and glanced over the top and bottom racks that held the additional bedding. Finally he came to a decision and pulled a small but thick blanket from the top rack. He unfolded it and rerolled it before placing it atop the pillow at the woman's feet. Now they would not become cold. He looked up to her arms, resting limply at her sides, and softly reached out, resting his palm over the back of one small hand. He had not noticed before, how tiny this woman was. Now that there was neither biting steel nor glass to separate them, she looked even more human than she had back at the W.R.O. It was…stunning. And her hand, it was cold. Cloud took her gently by the hand and elbow, lifting up her arm and repositioning the bound limb over her stomach before leaning cautiously over her and doing the same with the other. Finally he turned and picked up one of the two blankets he had taken out before. Selecting the thicker one, he laid it over her, making certain to tuck her in loosely so no drafts would seep into her while she rested, but she would have room to shift should she stir and wake.
At last he stepped back, focusing on the only part of her now visible. Her face, gashed deeply he had been told, was swollen on one side where a cut had gotten infected. A clean white bandage was placed diagonally over her right brow and down along her eye to her cheek, hiding a long jagged cut that was more gruesome than it was dangerous to her wellbeing. As he studied her face yet again, it still was unbelievable. Everything about her was pale and sickly. She looked ready for the crypt, the darkness around her eyes and the purple hue to her lips dull, but stark against the pallor of her complexion.
Cloud turned away from the bed and picked up the other blanket he had taken out before. Though he was thankful the flooring here was carpeted, he still laid out the extra blanket against the wall. Fishing out a thin pillow from the closet, he dropped it at the head of the 'bed' on the floor, spreading out a similarly thin blanket over the other, under which he would sleep. If he was going to sleep at all tonight, or perhaps any other night, it would be near to the Crimson Tsviet.
Moving silently, he went one last time to the closet, closing the doors before turning and opening up the dresser in the room, retrieving some clothes into which he might change for the night. The drenching he had received required a thorough drying of his clothes, and so he exited the bedroom, moving into the bathroom next door through the living room. It had taken only a minute for him to change, and then another to hang his clothes on a line that could be put up in one corner of the living room. Life here would be considerably old fashioned after the technological privileges he had become used to in Edge, or anywhere else throughout the Planet. Nevertheless, he was grateful. It was far better than residing in the wilderness.
The blonde haired man walked barefoot through the cabin now. He checked the front door and all the windows, making certain they were locked. Then he dug into the cabin's medical supply and put together a small basket of necessities that he would keep in the bedroom to make tending to the Crimson's wounds easier. Before he headed back into the other room, however, he walked to a door in the southeast corner of the living room. Opening it, he was faced with a wall of chopped wood that would provide for almost a month of cold weather. Though summer was only in its last month, and the island of Mideel was normally tropical, the rains that had been brought on the head of the storms from last week continued to chill the air. Also, for the world traveler, while it was warmer up north, that meant the cool temperatures were taking the lower hemisphere over. Gathering all the supplies and tinder he needed to start a fire, Cloud closed the door after himself and brought the wood to the fireplace. Before a few minutes had passed, life rose with growing chatter in the stone hearth.
Picking up the basket as he went, Cloud walked back towards the bedroom. He recalled now that Reeve had said it might take a couple of days for the Crimson to wake. That fact precipitated several other tasks that he knew he could not refuse to get around to completing, and the sooner the better. However, each of them required a trip into the village, and he neither desired nor looked forward to doing either. Whether or not the storm passed, he would not risk leaving the cabin until at least forty-eight hours from tomorrow morning. By then, he hoped, the Bane would wake. In addition, though he knew he had enough medical stock in the cabin to last him the couple of days, after that he would need to go retrieve the materials he had stashed away at the edge of the forest. If the Crimson Bane was not conscious by then, he would have to risk leaving her alone.
Silently he gazed down at her once more. Without a word, he sat himself down in a chair that was against the wall. A soft breath of air escaped him, and he studied the woman as his thoughts wandered.
. . . . . . .
"I wish you could guide me."
The thought was pleasantly wry.
. . . . . . .
The air trembled. It was the first of many things that were out of place. Was there danger to note? No…no that was not it. This…feeling…it was known, even though it remained foreign. A handful of times now, had this sensation overwhelmed the skin and senses. Like being washed away. A coolness that had nothing to do with temperature, refreshing the skin and soothing the eyes. Moisture and the gentle murmur of its presence…. Was this…rain? Rain, that was it. The air was filled with it, even though it did not touch the flesh.
It must have been outside…was still outside. That rustling and tapping melody was unlike…any other sound in the world. Though what it fell on was a guess of ignorance, the tune was the same. Rain. A wonder, an urge to revel in it in person, in the flesh, surged up. Let me go to it. For a small while…. Yet movement—why…? Limbs were heavy—no. Restrained. That was easier to discern than the former. A soft groan attempted to rise up, but failed upon lips more breathless than had at first been apparent. Choked off, a breath came raggedly out instead. Shock and anger were kindled. What was…the meaning of this! Bound, and—the thought was cut off. A scent had come to flaring nostrils.
A pause, lips parted slightly while clenched teeth relaxed their pressure. With an effort, eyebrows knit and fell, muscles unused for too long strained at one simple task. And then, a sliver…the struggle paid off.
Her eyes opened.
The beams of a wooden ceiling were the first sight that met her. They sloped upwards to one side, immediately revealing where the rest of the house lay. Only a little light filtered through a sheer curtain. Rousing claret eyes shifted to the wide-set, rectangular window in the wall by her bedside. Only a small patch of gray was visible, the rest…it was dark, but shifting; individual things that rose high enough…to obscure the sky. Trees…? Her eyes closed for a moment, a small puff of air escaping from her nose. She stilled herself, listened. A small crackling, a murmured rushing of oxygen being consumed—fire? Yes. The sounds of avid hunger? Eyelids rose. No…slower, more leisurely.
Once more, her eyes drooped, lids sinking heavily without her consent. Water and fire, and stone and sky. And she was…. Her eyes opened wider by a fraction, then her gaze dropped to her body. She saw that she was reposed upon a small bed meant for only one person, a thick brown-and-green cover blanketing her unusually supported form. Was this all that weighed her down? How strange…that she should not be able to lift it. Upon what did she rest? Could she move her limbs at all? Tensing the muscles in her arm experimentally, she jolted and hissed as a streak of pain went through her entire limb, into her shoulder and back. She stopped the contraction abruptly and exhaled quietly, slowly. The extent of her inhibitions was beginning to come to mind. Gently her eyes returned to their former position, staring upwards at the ceiling behind closed lids. They had begun to ache from staring downward at such an angle. Her head now ached from it.
Suddenly, with a sharp, painful hitch of breath, she set her jaw and attempted to sit up. As soon as her head lifted from the cushion and back arched, streams of pain rippled through her neck and arms, racing down her back and igniting a fire in her chest. She let out a strangled, corrugated ghost of a scream. Her head throbbed with the intensity of feet pounding the pavement at a full run, her head shook inside, swimming and knocked from above by invisible pistons, enough to make her nauseous. Crashing mutely back down onto the cushions, she clamped her lips shut as her throat fluctuated, then constricted violently, cutting off all oxygen and the potential for regurgitation as well. Her mind reeled, head spun too, heart lurching in volatile palpitations within her chest, like a small fiend raging to burst free from within the insipid cage. Dizziness overtook her. She lost her breath, as though it had been sucked from her lips. Sight blurred, then dimmed. Knowing nothing else she could do, the wounded Crimson squeezed her eyes shut tight with what little energy she had remaining.
She did not lose consciousness.
Slowly, the remnant pains throbbing throughout her body with electric intensity began to subside. The edge dulled, till aches were all that remained. No better aware of the passage of time than before her waking, it took an endless wait until her heartbeats steadied and her breathing became once more deep and restful, but hued by exhaustion. How was it that weariness so easily overtook her? Wounds…there had to have been wounds. Memory returned in gentle waves, like the soft brush of air from an electric fan as it turned upon you. There had been…anger, despair—cumulated through a sudden solution, a final flight. Freedom…pain, so cold and blinding—sight and every sensation lost except for feeling. Overwhelming and beyond designation, death could not have been so vast an accumulation of sensations, intense to the point of crippling the already fallen. Fire and ice, upon the skin, biting inside eagerly—severing tight filaments, taut strings of muscle fraying with a strange, almost audible noise—a snapping, shredding. Surface broken, carefully sealed skin pierced, exposing what was kept so snugly within—the same sickening sensation of half her chest collapsing under a pressure so immense it drove all thoughts and being from the mind, grinding bone against stone, grinding away onion paper skin, blood not smoothing the rough, jagged hammer-edges. No longer was there existence. There was only weight, crushing the body and emptying the head, making it a shell for a vast nothing. No sight, eyes bursting with tears. No sound, mouth agape—Please, scream…—breathless.
Darkness. Then light, voices—motion. Flight, brightness—stirring. Hands, tools—cessation. A slow recognition entered her thoughts. They had drugged her—she was still faintly conscious—laid her to rest in an ocean with no freedom—encased her in a coffin of metal, glass and fluid. Seeking death, her sanctum had been perverted by the humorous 'good intentions' of one man—the flaccid leader of the World Regenesis Organization. She recognized the scent. A sickly, thick, acrid liquid churned in her stomach, threatened once more to rise to her throat. The slow opening of pallid eyelids dispelled the emotion. Softly, a light began to stir within the depths of red irises, a diamond amongst the flames.
Somehow, after then…freedom had been returned. By him. For the first time, Rosso's eyes roved over to the doorway. It had probably been left open to let the heat, from the fire she could still hear burning, warm her room as well. No longer did she have to guess at it. She could taste him upon the air. He did not come—no, was not within. Her struggles would have alerted him almost instantly to her awakening. There was no one else here. Her lips curled curiously.
. . . . . . .
"You have no fear, do you, darling?"
. . . . . . .
The door to the cabin opened with a light creak. Walking through the opening, a 24" by 14" box in one arm, Cloud brought with him a gust of cool, damp air from the Mideel forest. The rain had peppered the island on and off since their arrival, and not once had the overcast skies broken to allow the sun through. It was drizzling incessantly even now as the blonde turned and grabbed the knob to close the door behind him. Thankfully, the rest of the supplies he had seen fit to bring had been already retrieved and stored in a small underground cellar beneath the woodland cabin. This sealed cardboard box that he now carried was the last of the bunch—and the only he would keep directly inside the cabin.
Placing the package upon the floor off to the side, he removed his coat and boots, putting both away on and under the small coat rack respectfully. Small drops fell from the bottom of his pants where a little too much rain had reached him, but for the most part he was dry. It would be the first time in four days.
Lifting the box from the floor, his footfalls were cushioned as he moved across the living room by the socks he had chosen for the moment to leave on. The box in his arms was the only one containing the basic, essential medical supplies he had been given to tend to the Crimson Tsviet's wounds. Over the past three days he had been able to make due with changing her bandages, cleaning and disinfecting her wounds, and splinting certain limbs with whatever he'd had stocked up in the cabin. However, by nightfall on the third day, it was apparent that the meager first aid supply he'd had on hand would not be enough. Specific antibiotics and large gauze strips, other bandages and wound-sealing disinfectants were present in sparse amounts. He could, as he'd originally presumed, no longer delay the trip to the stock tent.
This also had brought up one very prominent problem. Three full days had gone by, by the evening of the night prior, and still the unconscious survivor had yet to wake from her artificially induced coma. Reeve's words had been clear when he'd repeated the amount of time it would take the Tsviet to regain consciousness. 'Two to three days,' he had said on more than one occasion as they're prepared to transport the injured woman. By the morning of the fourth day, Cloud could wait no longer to put off what tasks he had set aside on the chance that the Crimson would stir from her numb slumber. Thus, he spent the day more away from the cabin than he did watching over the Tsviet. First to the storage tent, where most of the stock was unloaded and brought back to the cabin cellar, one or two packages at a time. To move any more would have been stupid or suicidal in the thick vegetation that coated near every inch of Mideel. Once only the sole box remained, he made a side trip into the village which took little over twice as long a time. It was on his way back that he had gathered up the box of medical supplies for his guest and returned only recently. A full day had been almost completely spent by the time of his arrival. One of the few electrical pieces in the cabin, an old grandfather clock in one corner of the living room, ticked away several minutes after six in the evening.
As he entered the bedroom, Cloud looked first to the bed as had become habit over the past few days.
"So it was you who had taken me away after all."
The blonde's eyes widened slightly as the immobile figure beneath the blanket spoke. She had spoken before he could even focus upon her face. She had to have been expecting him then. "You've been awake for a while," he responded with just as obvious a comment. Turning to place the box atop the low dresser, he could feel her eyes on him even as he opened it and began removing the various articles packed away within it.
"And you've seen fit to take care of me handsomely," she pressed, a clear note of amusement sewn into her voice. Cloud did not, at first, answer. Taking the now empty box off the dresser, he turned to the chair upon which he had sat throughout many of the nights before. His eyes moved to meet hers as he switched the box for the basket of supplies and straightened again. "You could tell?" he asked, noting again her continued immobility and ashen demeanor.
The claret-haired figure convulsed abruptly, a hoarse coughing fit rattling loose from her lips. Cloud immediately stepped around the bed, moving swiftly to her side, the basket still in one arm. Only as he reached out to place a hand over the center of her chest, not knowing how else—if there was a way—to stifle such a ragged spasm, did he realize what had gripped the Tsviet. The curl to her mouth, the flash of teeth for a moment as she inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady her breathing—she had been laughing. A light expulsion of breath left his lips silently, and his hand retreated from where it had stopped, hovering over her chest. After a minute longer, the coughing came under control and with a slow knitting of brows, the Tsviet's eyes closed. Cloud watched her silently.
"What is outside?"
He considered the woman peculiarly for a moment. The way she had worded her query made it sound as though she was asking for a definition. After a second, his eyes shifted to the window, staring beyond the lace curtain to the dark outlines of trees. The evening light was already fast fading. Soon nothing would be visible outside at all, for little sun pierced the thick foliage, let alone the starlight at nightfall. He hesitated to speak, dwelling on what it was this peculiar woman wanted to know. Were there people? The lay of the land? These and countless other answers he could give, so he began with the most easily perceived. "There is a forest, and a little village." He paused, reflected on their surroundings, and as he spoke again, he stepped away from the bed's side to return to what he had left unfinished in the dimming light. "We are on an island, usually considered to be in the tropics. Right now, it's colder. The weather is changing to fit the winter. Watch your eyes in a second," he said softer, derailing delicately from his elaboration to reach out to a gas lamp. Silently he turned the knob and lit the gas with a match from a packet kept near to the light. Then he replaced the glass on top of the base and increased the brightness of the flame with another gentle turn.
As the blonde returned to the large wicker basket, the Crimson's eyes turned from him to gaze wordlessly around the room. It looked completely different now, even for the small stature of the light that filled it. But it filled it well enough, and its light was warm flickering light, full of life that melted away the shadows and somehow the emptiness of the place in which she was trapped. Her gaze turned once more to the back of the blonde, and she studied him. A few impertinent questions whirred behind lightly shut lips, and she wondered for a moment why he did not continue. Then it came to her that, perhaps, he was waiting for her. There was a soft noise she made with her nose, continued with a murmur from the back of her throat. Clever? Or perceptive?
"We're on an island?" she wanted to confirm.
The blonde head nodded. "It's called Mideel."
The claret haired woman said nothing. She did not recognize the name. All that she gathered was the obscurity of their location from what her tender did and did not say. Deserted? Close enough. She did not have to question if anyone else was here, or knew. She would have to ensure only that her mobility was returned swiftly. If the trusting aegis sought to speed her recovery, then she would use him without fear of reprimand, and he would break or emerge purer through the inferno. It was the law of existence that the weak should perish.
It was the way of Deepground.
Suddenly she lifted her left arm, the only limb that seemed willing to respond and did not cause her great trauma, and planted the palm on the mattress at her side. Biting back the sharp hiss of pain, she arched backwards and then rocked herself forward, pushing with the arm to attempt to sit up. This time she could not contain the abrupt outcry of pain that burst from her throat. She convulsed forward, trembling and abruptly snarled when she felt the unexpected faint pressure of hands at her back and arm. Whirling as best she could on the blonde, she bared her teeth at him and tried to bite his arm, but he sidestepped swiftly, evading her teeth, and she winced at her own motions, paralyzed for a moment by the wave of pain that swept her body.
"Is asking so hard?" she heard him say from above her, and did not hear the concern. Nor could she answer as a shuddering, dry retching consumed her body, and she forfeited control of it unwillingly to the coughing that followed, throwing out her good arm awkwardly to rest against this unmoving man before her. He did not flinch or pull away, and inside shame and fury contorted as suddenly as tenders burst into a blaze at the faintest glow of an ember, further humiliating her. It was the taste of bile, stripping her throat raw with acid, burning, setting her entire chest aflame, pressure, even facing down it was bearing up, steel clamps contracting around her lungs, face aching, throbbing from tugged, freshly torn wounds. It was bile and rage, poisoned caustic saliva on her tongue and teeth clenched to the point of agony, nerves screaming in her jaw, tight and ready to tear in the neck—this rage….
First crippled by an unsuccessful meeting with death. Then to be filed away as a subject for study and experimentation—illimitable, corrugated destiny crystallized—a decayed purpose evermore sealed as lips were sewn, eyes blackened, limbs bound, scent confused and hearing remained only so that she might be endlessly deceived. It was their way. Bastards! Promises—Hope, tethering to it by the faintest strands while rage—bitter and bottomless agony and loathing—conquered all sensibility and obscured the horizon. It was their end for her—their sole purpose! Now freedom was hers, provided her by an unusual angel, for he did not know of his own gift, and yet she could…not…grasp…it! For the cruelty of fate had yet found a way in which to keep her from it. And this man, this shortsighted oblivious man! He thought only of her wellbeing and did not see that his kind acts cordoned her off from what she desired greater than life itself!
"You don't have to hurt yourself to get there now."
She froze. Panting heavily despite herself, her body trembled overwhelmingly after her struggles had subsided, only a faint weakness remaining. Twisted half in and half out of bed, one bandaged leg lopsidedly hanging, dragging on the floor while her injured right arm was delicately and securely held in the Avalanche leader's grasp. The other forearm supported her weight against his stomach, as she hung limp as a puppet tangled in its strings. Swallowing her ragged breaths slowly…shutting her lips tightly…the Crimson Tsviet lifted her head gradually to look up at the azure eyes, expecting to meet them, and angry when she did. "It won't disappear," he said, and his voice was like the murmuring breeze through the trees.
She had screamed before. Now she roared.
It did not surprise him. Even when the pressure against his stomach increased beyond what he'd hoped the Tsviet would be capable of in her condition, he stood his ground. "RELEASE ME!" she bellowed, pupils dilated but unclear, he noticed. The arm turned and nails suddenly sought purchase through his shirt and into skin, the other arm jerked from his grip even though he'd tightened it to prevent just that. The streak of pain across her face paled the Crimson's skin for the breadth of a second before she tucked the arm in close to her body, and turned a cruel grimace on him. Her eyes did not meet his, wavering in their sight, and as she straightened, twisting away from him, she fumbled to find footing on the thick carpet. But she would fall, and as she struck at him once more, he did his best to still her and prevent the accident.
Cloud caught her arm, unbalancing her unintentionally as she sought to pull away from him. She broke free…and fell heavily to the floor, a small feral, wailing cry breaking from her lips. She had landed on her arms, one leg caught tangled in the blankets still on the bed while the other lay deadened upon the floor, heavily bound and bandaged. In that position, movement was impossible beyond collapse. Her arms trembled as they held up her thin form, began to shake until they quavered violently, like taut metal strands giving under too much weight, and in a few seconds the muscles in her arms were wobbling with the violence of slim boughs buffeted by storm winds. Her face was wrinkled with agony lines when he crouched beside her, present but no longer rushing to her aid.
The Tsviet's agony-vivid eyes were set stoically on the carpeting between her palms. Her breathing hitched and rasped as she suddenly half-hissed, half-growled her next words to him. "You are…infuriating beyond my expectations." The blonde only regarded her calmly. Suddenly her face contorted in an expression of rage and unexpected confusion. But whatever words wanted to break from her lips she either withheld, or could not get out. Her right arm collapsed then and as his hands went out swiftly to catch her, and prevent her from hurting herself any more than she already had, he found with surprise her eyes suddenly shifted to his, regarding him with…sympathy. "You are half blind." Her very voice was weariness itself. "You see only one side of the picture," she informed him nonetheless, with resolution, and he was struck by the intensity of her statement and its significance, delivered from a face as swollen and unattractive as hers had become.
"Maybe that's true," he said at last. "You'll have time to tell me about it later." Even with the sincerity in his voice, the claret haired Tsviet snorted airily and one corner of her lips lifted in an irate smirk, white teeth gleaming faintly in the lamp light. You don't get it, she seemed to say, even as Cloud ignored her reaction and began to lift her slowly to her feet. She could have been falling into delirium by this point, having suffered so much profound pain. Yet he could not undermine her words. Her good arm came between them suddenly and clasped him above the elbow of his, and he stopped, focusing on her eyes and thinking, for a moment, he saw a glimmer of hesitance flash over them. However now, with her irises shrunken from the acute pain still sending a ripple of chills throughout her body, the look in their vibrant red depths was commanding, wide-eyed and steady. In that instant, her features were more human than Cloud had ever seen them.
"I am not the victim here," she effused firmly, her grip tightening on his arm. Involuntarily, his eyes widened a moment, lips parting over his teeth in shock just slightly at the fortitude of her words. Of doubt or uncertainty, there was none in her voice, and it set a nagging node in the back of his head alight with implication. "Later," he repeated again, and worked around her arm to rest her down in at least a stationary seat upon the bed.
"Have it your way, darling," she answered him, suddenly aloof, though fatigue colored every expression in her face and posture now. "I have no choice but to remain here anyway."
"I could always send you back," he commented coolly, but not unkindly as he moved out of the bedroom.
"Ah, but you won't, darling," she remarked with a pleased—or perhaps amused—look. How had she become so smug so swiftly? He shook his head now from inside the living room, knowing she could not see him from where he knelt before the fireplace to stoke the flames to warm the small cabin. Suddenly he heard a small stirring and squeak from the bed in the room. "Must you leave me in here," he heard her mutter, trailing off absently, and recognized that she was indeed addressing him. Standing up from the fireplace and repositioning the protective grate in the stone base, he turned to walk back into the bedroom and found to his surprise that she had fallen somewhat awkwardly onto her slightly better side away from the pillows. Her eyes were shut, her mouth slightly ajar. Quietly he moved towards her and realized that she had fallen asleep. He regressed—she had spent whatever little energy she had had.
Slowly he reached out the back of a hand and rested it against her forehead for a few moments to make sure she did not have a fever. Her skin felt normal beneath the bandaging. He drew his hand back, relieved, and more delicately than ever now lifted her properly into a reposed position. Drawing the blankets up to cover her neck and swiftly now rearranging the pillows to cushion her body, he ensured she was warm without disturbing her from her sleep. There was no telling now how lightly she rested, and so he moved quietly around her.
Almost without intending it, he found a deep breath rushing from his mouth. He cast a thought out experimentally and a light smile crept into the edges of his lips at the response.
. . . . . . .
"This is going to be grueling."
A warm laugh from somewhere up above.
"Did you expect it to be easy?"
. . . . . . .
Author's Note: This chapter was considerably slower than my first, but to be reasonable, the details needed to be set up and put aside sooner rather than later. Now, in the next chapter, the true fun will begin, and I know many of you will enjoy the fights that will ensue between these two. As it is, I truly hope you enjoyed this update, however long in coming it was. Also, in the future, I may not answer all of your reviews directly in my fics. But I will continue to try and address any questions or comments you may or may not have. Once again, thank you all very kindly for taking the time out to read and enjoy this story. May many more people be touched by it! And thank you again for all your kind words/reviews on my last chapter. I hope to hear from the rest of you all again!