It is really odd how you can be happy and sad at the same time.
Ly: No, you are just psychotic.
That hurts. Well, there will definitely be some messed up shit in this chapter. And a slight slashy aftertaste. Do not worry, it will not last.
Ly: And it will be rather slow, because it is mostly a dream sequence.
No, pay no mind to the person with the negative attitude. I will progress the story some.
Ly: She owns nothing but the occasional secondary character's soul. Now read and review or we shall release Sweeny upon you, useless meat sacks. (takes a bite of Mrs. Lovett's meat pie)
Vincent stared hard at the small building in front of him. It had been about thirty years since the gunner had visited this spot, snuggly tucked away in a dark corner between the mountains and an ancient forest. For the amount of time that passed, the house had stayed the same.
Shaking his dark head, Vincent stepped toward the door. A light pressure appeared in the small of his back, "Take it nice and slow, young fellow. We do not want any mishaps."
Vincent spun around, snatching the rifle away from the elderly man who had been pressing the barrel into his red clad back. "Really Doctor, you should know better."
"Vincent Valentine?" the aged man blinked owlishly. "I thought they killed you off years ago." The man's eyes fell upon the glistening claw attached to Vincent's arm, "I suppose they found something worst then."
"I need advice," No more had to be said. The two men stepped into the house.
Cloud hung within his prison, unsure of what was reality and what was the mako induced nightmares. Images continually flowed through his mind, memories of better days along with the never ending barrage of false memories.
The blond stood with hundreds of other Soldier hopefuls. Cloud fidgeted in his corner, he could easily have been among the top five shortest applicants. His bright hair was also a beacon among the collection of dark and dingy hair colors.
"Why do you think you're doing here Scrimp?" One of the larger boys asked with a sneer.
Another boy, who was little more then a carbon copy of his peers laughed, "I think this one is too pretty to be Soldier, maybe he is here for a secretary job."
"Strife," a man in a lab coat called into the room, motioning for whichever boy he needed to come into the room.
Cloud made his way to the door in record time; he did not want to get off onto the same foot he had been on back home. He neither wanted to start anything that would lead to fighting nor did he want to be the easy target of bullies. Frankly, those two would never make it through the intelligence testing required for Soldiers. If they did, they would never reach anything above third rank.
"Strife, Cloud?" the man asked, looking down at the boy. The man waited till Cloud nodded before continuing, "Go into this room for your physical."
Cloud walked into the room without much thought. Suddenly the door slammed shut behind him. Turning quickly, Cloud found the door gone, replaced by the walls of the Mansion's basement.
"What are you doing, Specimen B?"
Cloud felt his heart sink at the silky voice of Hojo. Impossibly strong hands grabbed the boy and spun him around, pinning Cloud to the wall. Hojo stood with only a few inches between himself and the boy.
Air caught in Cloud's throat while his heart beat far too fast, his mind and body frozen with fear. The feel of cold steel being pressed into the sensitive skin of his neck made Cloud flinch backward into the wall, despite for any escape he would never find.
"That will not do my precious specimen." Hojo cooed into Cloud's ear. Every fiber of skin which was touched by the scientist's breath crawled.
"What can I do for you Vincent?" the doctor asked as he sat down at an aged table, a cup of tea in front of him. He looked up at the gunner who leaned against the opposite wall.
The two let a silence stretch between one another, the elderly man knowing that Vincent would speak in his own time.
"You were the psychiatrist at Shinra for years," Vincent stated blandly.
"As any record would say. And I have not been in their service for over twenty five years." The man took a sip of his tea, sharp brown eyes staring into red orbs. This was a man who had dealt with some of the sickest people on the face of the world. He had looked into eyes of wolves in human skins without a flinch, never giving more then what those monsters expected to see from the shrink.
"I need your help with a friend, Simon," Vincent never changed his tone, each word coming out in the same monotone.
"I honestly do not think I can help anyone," Simon looked down at the cup. "I could not even help that poor child, Sephiroth, how could you trust me to help you?"
Vincent did not ask about this, he knew what would come to anyone who had tried to save Sephiroth from his destructive fate. "I trust you."
"No you do not, a Turk trusts no one." Simon smiled a steely grin, a look which had put many a young fools, who found themselves in his office, in their places. One young man named Vincent among those numbers.
"You will not leave till I agree. So what is wrong with this friend of yours?"
"Why won't he wake up," Tifa asked the empty air as she sat beside Cloud. The darkness of the room was soothing; it seemed as if Cloud was simply sleeping, instead of being unconscious for almost three days.
It did not make sense. They had been through so many fights, yet none of them had ever been put out of condition like this without an underlining reason. According to Barret, Cloud had simply been hit by a walking mass of muscle. No spells or poisons, just a blow to the head.
Tifa knew that a strong enough blow could cause a great deal of amazing damage. Her master had been very specific to explain exactly what she could do to another human being if she was not careful. But it did not feel right to the brunet that Cloud would be taken down so easily.
"Cloud, I do not know what to do about this," Cloud did not answer, "I know I messed up. I should have done things differently, I should have told you about Nibelheim. I should have been more open. Hell, I should have been nicer to you when we were kids."
A tear ran down her cheek as she held onto that pale hand as if it was her only lifeline, "I know that I cannot change any of that, but I still feel that I should apologize."
Tifa sat for a moment watching Cloud. She could see his eyes rolling rapidly behind closed lids. Occasionally the man would twitch from whatever he was seeing.
"What are you seeing," Tifa asked. Once again, the air of the room offered no reply.
Cloud.
Suddenly, everything was gone. Hojo and the room had vanished as if by magic. Left in their place was a void of black and green. Cloud sighed as he closed his eyes in bliss, nothing hurt, no feelings, no thoughts. It could be heaven, if Hojo had not stolen the very notion of such otherworldly forces meant to protect the innocent.
Suddenly, a feather soft touch brushed across Cloud's hand. It was like a soft breeze, but no air moved in this place. Curiosity got the better of him, causing Cloud to open his eyes.
Haunted blue eyes stared into gentle green. Looking into those pools of liquid jade, calm passed though the boy. This was right. Those eyes were meant to heal, to save one from their own darkness. They smiled into Cloud's soul, warming every crack left by the mad scientist.
'Wait,' a clear female voice caressed him. It was so different from the one which corrupted his thoughts with its sickly sweet coos. No this voice was as soothing as the eyes which it belonged too.
'Nothing last forever.'
Yeah, I may be a raging pessimist in the ways of attraction, but in the end I am a closet romantic. I love the idea of Cloud and Aerith, so I threw it in there. Yes, that was Aerith. Or you could think of it as Seph if you really wanted too, I do not care. Most if this is based off the idea that you get really f up dreams when you are ill, and I have dreams where I feel pain and touches.
I really do not think I will be doing many more flashbacks cause soon there will be real time torture for you to read about.