Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
-BEGIN FIC-
Chapter 4
Goodbye
It's been a little less than a week since my last journal entry. However, enough has occurred that I felt another one was warranted. Not that it's been an especially eventful six days, but there's been a lot of progress made.
Rinoa and I are currently in Timber. She seemed amused at first that I'd brought my journal with me, but after I let her skim the entries I'd made about our wedding she's much more accepting and less critical of my decision to bring my memory crux along for the ride.
After all, there's no telling what I'm going to lose. I still completely recall the chill in the air when I sat on the beach of Centra, staring at the waves as I waited for Sis to appear, cold despite the sun's rays beating upon my body and the sweat of exertion still tainting my flesh from my brief run of escape from Matron's care. But I couldn't recall where Quistis and Zell were until I read my own journal entry to remind myself that I had indeed sent them to Esthar and they were still overseeing the material transfer.
It's frustrating. Very frustrating. To know that my memories are all but held hostage by the creature in my head, being selectively eradicated by whatever whimsical will the apocalyptic destroyer that inhabits my brain has, is enough to bring me to the brink of insanity. I've been pondering why some memories are stripped and others left – the beast inside my head seems quite sadistic at times, focusing on stripping my mind of my more cheerful memories and leaving depreciation and sadness untouched. At times I wonder – will she take enough from my mind that I cease to function? That I cease to have a perception of who I am and where I come from? That I, for all intents and purposes, cease to be who I am at this moment and become nothing more than Eden's puppet, driven more by her will than my own?
Rinoa is more than capable of seeing the strife and agonizing self-analysis that floods my mind. Our connection, the powerful bond between Sorceress and Knight, lets her be privy to far more than I had thought possible in days long past.
Fortunately, she has never betrayed my trust, never bothered looking in those dark recesses that I truly wish to retain buried and untouched. She does respect my wishes for certain aspects of my past to remain unseen, despite her insisting that discussion of some of these past subjects would be healthy for my psyche. It's not that I don't trust her with my past, it's just that my lack of trust in general makes me nervous and edgy about anyone, even the woman I trust and love most dearly, seeing what I have buried in the back of my mind.
I don't stop her from looking at the recent past, though. She is integral to most of it.
Someday, perhaps, I'll be able to trust deeply enough that I can let Rinoa's touch rove wherever it wishes without fear quaking my heart. I truly do wish that such a day can come to pass – Rinoa knows that, and finds comfort in that steadfast dream. She's never given me a hard time about hiding from her, ever since she let our bond dredge a few inklings of my history from the darkness in my mind – she kindly backed away, finally respectful of the fact that complete and total openness wasn't presently feasible.
Besides, the fact that this bond isn't really two-way, that as her Knight I can't peer into her mind and read everything that's buried as she can with mine but rather can only detect her elevated emotional states keeps her honest about when she peers and what she gleans – she understands my lack of comfort with the inequality we innately have with this and makes every effort to accommodate me.
But as she's privy to most of what flits over the surface of my mind, she can comfort me, and she does with regularity. Even now she's rubbing my shoulders (and stop reading over my shoulder, damn it. Give me privacy. Thank you) and caressing my anxiety with a calm that I could never possess for myself.
Anyway, why we're here – I still haven't heard from my contact. It's been close to a month since I asked him to look into the supposed rise in the monster population around Obel Lake. I've been haggled by the Timber Senator who made the initial inquiry into hiring our forces on more than one occasion, emphatically insisting that the small militia Timber has to defend its interest weren't capable of handling their own problems that the monster issue was truly beyond their ability to suppress. And since I refused to draft a contract prior to knowing what I'm about to risk my SeeDs' lives with, I really had no choice – another investigative source had to go in.
Plus seeing as how Rinoa and I were seriously considering Timber for our wedding, it might as well be me.
We should be heading out some time tomorrow to patrol Obel Lake. While she's a bit miffed that we're mixing business and pleasure, Rinoa's been understanding, her initial resentment of our escape from the Garden being a convenient cover for getting work accomplished having faded into nothing but appreciation for the chance to accompany me. At least she finally understands that I'm taking one hell of a liability risk by bringing her with me – if she were to fall into harm, her father could ream Balamb Garden for every hot gil it's worth.
But coming here without her? I think I'd rather suffer the onslaught of lawyers coming for my money rather than the rage of my fiancé coming for my soul for daring to leave her behind while I go gallivanting around in Timber.
Today was dedicated to roving the capital city that the region derives its name from. Thankfully I was able to convince Rinoa that a reunion with the Forest Owls could wait until tonight.
We checked out five places today. Two different chapels, two restaurants, one park with a huge gazebo and a nearby auditorium. And so do our differences really start to shine.
Rinoa's been bright-eyed and cooing about the first chapel we visited all day. It's huge, a shrine that once stood as a pillar of worship to a forgotten God of the distant past, gloriously maintained and painted pure white. Huge stained-glass windows create a cacophony of colors at all hours of the day, stretching from barely a foot above the ground to the beams that hold the roof nearly twenty feet overhead. Visions of twisted vines, roses, angels with brilliant halos and huge multicolored wings, rays of power seeping from white clouds and castles primly placed upon mountain tops, vast oceans' waves with leaping sea creatures and the like race over thick red carpeting, cast from those glass panes by the passing sun. A huge golden relief dominates the front of the chapel, angels holding aloft the day's brilliant star with the different phases of the moon spread under their feet, stars dotting the tips of stretching wings.
She's been going on and on about how beautiful it would be with dark green ribbon running along the pews, how glorious she would look in a long chapel-length train, and how many flowers we could stuff onto the elevated platform that stretched under the massive angelic relief.
Needless to say, the second chapel didn't impress her – it was far less grandiose, a smaller and more humble testimony to the God of today, plain and simple in comparison with the gaudy monstrosity we'd visited earlier. The floors were simple hardwood, the windows considerably smaller and simple round rosettes of stained glass, the front of the chapel decorated by a simple relief of human imagining of God's image holding the world in His hands.
I wasn't impressed with either. I personally prefer the park. But then again, I've never found much comfort in the thought of an overarching deity.
I don't deny the potential existence of one. Neither do I profess that the existence of one must be fact. I simply acknowledge that I, personally, have no base of belief. After all, if there is an overarching deity, why would it care about insignificant beings such as us?
Maybe a deity exists that's responsible for the creation of the world, as many religions suggest. I won't deny that it's possible. But why would such a creature care about us? Especially when there's proof that life exists on planets other than our own? After all, the blue creatures with their yellow-tipped antennae that have been dubbed 'pupu aliens' by the 'scientific community' are hardly native beings of this planet – they can't even be traced to the moon. If life is something that fills the universe rather than being unique to our planet, why would we take any form of precedence? Why would a supreme being care about the wishes, longings and prayers of this particularly sad little creation? And if such a being cared, why would suffering exist in its world? Why would children be left in orphanages, alone and abandoned and looked over despite all of their prayers for stability and family, shuffled off to the painful life of an unwanted, pitiful being fit only to be indoctrinated into a murderous system whose purpose was to terminate the lives of others? Why would that being allow the good, the innocent, the pure to be butchered by those who are anything but, who are killing for pleasure or for profit or to fulfill the orders given to them by those above them?
I don't' disbelieve. But I don't think such a being really cares about us. Otherwise, things would be different.
Rinoa always argues with me about these points, of course. Says it has something to do with God's gift of free will, and Him stepping back to let humanity fuck itself as it sees fit. That He answers the prayers of the faithful, whether by inspiring them to accomplish something themselves or by providing a gentle nudge to set things into motion – that only those most ernst and honest prayers are answered, and always in the most subtle of methods.
She also says that Sorceress wouldn't exist if not for the power of deities, so her own existence should amplify that higher powers do exist.
I always counter with professing that Hyne was a crackpot Sorcerer who just found some method of wielding magic that made him immortal or something.
She always just sighs and rubs her head, always casting me a helpless smile and telling me that I simply don't' understand. And I'm fine with that.
So back to the topic at hand… the park. I've never been comfortable about the prospect of a higher power, so I'd rather not have our wedding in a house dedicated to the worship of one. I'm much more comfortable out in nature, surrounded with nothing but the planet's own beauty.
Plus with a holiday wedding, given that Timber is flooded with evergreens, it will still be green, it will be cool while not being murderously cold like Trabia would, and she can decorate to her heart's content. I'd prefer something outdoors, simple and quiet and a bit more subdued without massive organs and a billion ushers and ritual. Something quick and easy, a few blessing to appease her and vows to hold one another for the rest of our lives.
My vision's not one of a huge chapel with ribbon everywhere and more flowers than a person could feasibly shake a stick at drowning me in pollen and bright petals. It's more of a few ribbons and decorations in wild evergreens, perhaps some lights powered by extension cords run from the nearby auditorium, rows of folding chairs for our friends and closest associates to sit on and a tall candelabra we'd stand under as we're joined in matrimony.
Yeah. No agreement whatsoever. She and I have been butting heads all afternoon.
Maybe after our little sortie out to Obel Lake, we can sit down and have a serious conversation, maybe draw up some plans of what we both envision. Maybe I can sway her to my desires. She's probably hoping for the same thing – to make me see her vision and bend her way.
Restaurants and auditorium are yet another point of contention, unfortunately.
After small lunches at both, we decided that there was no way we'd bother with the local fare. The look on Rinoa's face was a twist of pathetic mixed with sorrowful that made it irresistibly cute when she pouted and sullenly confessed that it wasn't anywhere near as good as she remembered.
I didn't think it was that bad, but if I want seafood I'll be going to a good restaurant in Balamb, thank you very much.
Instead, I am thinking of hiring out Braburn's Bar and Grill. Rinoa had scoffed at first – how could I suggest such a place, she's raged, for our wedding? So I took her there.
It was a decently sized restaurant I had the opportunity to discover when I'd done a bit of reconnaissance with Irvine in this region a good… seven or eight months ago now, I think. I'm not really sure of the amount of time that's passed. But the amount of time that's passed is a not really the issue here. What is happens to be the fact that the food at this place is fantastic.
Leave it to Irvine to know every great hidey-hole and fantastic dining establishment, no matter how run down the joint or small the hovel, if it happens to exist upon his home continent. Really, in that aspect alone, he is an asset to Balamb Garden. The man has an unbeatable bearing towards finding good food. And the nearest fairly high quality red-light district, but that's rather beside the point.
Thinking of Irvine, I have to remind myself to find out why the hell his head smells like strawberries when we get back to Balamb Garden.
So after we'd had a short, small lunch at William and Puck's, supposedly famous for its incredible lamb shanks and touting the 'greatest seafood in all of Timber,' we more or less ran for the seedier districts of town by my direction. After that highly dissatisfying experience, we tracked down the restaurant Irvine had introduced me to despite Rinoa's protests of potentially considering such a 'low class' establishment for our reception's catering.
An hour after arriving there, she was singing a different tune. She'd discovered exactly what I had found when Irvine first dragged me to Braburn's – they serve some of the greatest variety to be found in Trabia, from vegetable kabobs coated in a specialty sauce made in-house. Only thing was, she was still up in the air about hiring them – she wanted to have our reception dinner and all of the dancing and festivities to follow in some grand restaurant or, barring that, a hotel lobby so everyone can just stagger upstairs after the drunken revelries.
I'm not opposed to a lobby. A restaurant makes me cringe and shudder – not only would the costs be simply astronomical to convince a business owner to shut down his establishment for public use for the night, it prevents me from getting Braburn's. Because there's no way in Hyne's unholy name that Rinoa would have a reception in their rather mediocre establishment (and to be frank, neither would I. The food's awesome – the building is a far cry from such).
But a lobby…? Really? Talk about inconvenient – having to have everyone gather at a location for the ceremony, then cart all their merry-making rears over to another location so they can get wasted and dance like fools. And knowing some of the people who were destined to show, some of our party members were going to be liquored up long before the official ceremony came to an end.
Once again, my brain screams for the park. The auditorium is huge. It'd be easy to set up. And we can just breeze right to food and chairs after pictures, and no matter how much Rinoa argues to the contrary no matter where our ceremony is she's going to be whining about her shoes bothering her feet. Plus there's already a good sound system in the building, plenty of electrical support and a large open area for whatever we wish to use it for.
And it's less cost prohibitive. While a lobby would be cheaper than a restaurant, it's still pricy.
Sometimes I think Rinoa forgets that the world operates on gil and not dreams and desires. A life of privilege must do that to you, I guess.
Rinoa's demanding I make checklists now, too. So I'll just jot down a reminder as I'm writing and she's pacing around behind me, ticking things off on her fingers and fussing over her newly applied nail polish.
We have to agree where to have our wedding. We have to agree where to have our reception. We have to agree where the food's going to come from (catering vice restaurant in-house dining).
We have to start thinking about caterers, photographers, a minister (really? Feh – I say a Justice of the Peace is fine, but that's me), decorations, ushers (ugh), a ring bearer (like we know any kids – maybe Matron Edea can help with that?), a flower girl (same), the ages old question of tuxedos verses suits (I vote suits – and now Rinoa's blathering about how great I'd look in a tux. Fantastic.) and a florist. She also wants us to start thinking about the types of decorations we're going to have.
Why the hell are we bothering with thinking about decorating when we don't even know where we're going to end up having the ceremony and reception?
And I can feel her eyes boring into my skull even as I write. To think I was just writing a couple of pages ago about how our bond is rather lopsided and she can readily read what flits on the surface of my brain.
A tuxedo? Really? I hate those things. And be damned if I'm going to have tails draped over my butt.
Time to get post-it notes into my journal, damn it. I'm getting tired of writing about all this wedding business. Plus I'm really meandering now – glancing over what I've written, I am actively resisting the urge to just slam this journal shut and curl up on the nearby bed for a quick nap before meeting with the Forest Owls. I definitely don't want to let it sit on my brain before tomorrow's sojourn out to Obel Lake. While it's definitely the SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN MY LIFE (stop reading over my shoulder) and I agree that these are critical decisions we have to come to some sort of resolution on, I want to stop thinking about it tonight and just reflect on it starting tomorrow after we find out how bad this horrible monster population boom truly is. Thank you.
Work. Post-it notes about work. Well, the SeeDs I sent to Trabia reported in that they reached their destination successfully before I absconded with Rinoa from Balamb Garden. Quistis told me that if I ever sent her alone with Zell Dincht again she'd feed me my spleen. I ignored a lot of phone calls. Laguna is an idiot. What more is there to write?
So on to the other portion of this journal.
That dream I wrote about last time? I still have it. Glimpses of it, actually – many times Rinoa wakes me from it, telling me that I toss and turn and cry out when my brain's being wracked by that particular nightmare. I've had no real opportunity to garner any further detail despite its regularity – everything I wrote about in my last entry is holding true, zero departures from previously dreamed imagery finding their ways into my sleep.
That in of itself is enough to trouble me. Prophetic dreams, huh? How? Simply because I'm junctioned to Eden? Because she's made herself such a permanent presence in my head that some would argue I have no identity separate of hers in the heat of battle? How can a Guardian Force read into the future?
Is it because, having been to the future and dragged them all with us, the nearly supernatural beasts we tether our allegiance and souls to are capable of existing as Ultimecia sought to exist, becoming part of all times simultaneously? Is Eden able to show me what rests in my near future because she's already been there and has already seen it?
Just thinking about it is enough to give me headaches. Eden's laughter demolishing any cognizant senses that might make it through my eyes and ears, mocking and horrifying as it blasts away my thoughts, doesn't help the matter any.
But there's something else. I've started having another dream. And what's weird is that there's a common element between them.
In the dream I had last night and hastily jotted down before I could forget it, I am actually present.
Garden is listing in the middle of the ocean, having very nearly capsized. Its entire port side is drenched with water, falls of salty liquid pouring in sheets back into the sea itself. Its lower portion, the basement levels that house the odd mechanisms that give Garden its lift that once were buried beneath the ground and normally hover above whatever surface we're traveling over, is buried into the ocean. A sizable hole in the basement region pours water from it as Garden lamely lifts its mass from the waves, bobbling wildly as it overcorrects for the shift in mass it experiences as the water that fills it sloshes wildly with its momentum.
I am on the remains of the Training Area – the top of that domed area has been blown completely away, as has most of the flooring. Any semblances of walls are totally missing. The Training Area, that lush enclosure permanently fixed to Garden's side that serves as a frustration release and a hideaway for me when I'm stressed beyond belief, is nothing more than a straggling jetty of metal thrusting from the side of Garden, a few tendrils of plants holding desperately to thinned soil and metal to stay away from the saltine depths that beckon for them. Below me, grats are sinking and T-Rexaurs struggle in vain against massive waves that threaten to bury not only them, but my broken perch upon Garden.
I am hanging desperately on to the hilt of Lionhart, its crystalline tip buried in that steel spear I am kneeling on. It's all that's keeping me from the ocean itself. That and….
I'm drenched. Completely drenched. I'm dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt – obviously, I wasn't doing anything truly important during the moments that preceded the dream. Maybe blowing steam in the Training Area? Destroying some grats? Cursing because Betsy the T-Rexaur had decided to corner me instead of chase students around the trees? Hell if I can ever know. But I'm soaking wet from head to toe – my shirt is clinging to my body like a second skin, my jeans not faring much better, and my hair is all but plastered to my head.
The person in my dream that's holding me in place upon my perilous perch isn't faring much better. Granted all he's wearing are his boxers, but still….
I noted that he looked very familiar. He has blond hair, tendrils of it on the right side of his face far longer than anything on the left and cut short in back. He's a touch shorter than me, just as slender and perhaps my age or maybe just a few years older. His body is covered in pale skin that's coated with nearly as many scars as my own.
And he's holding me, protecting me. I guess in my dream I'm too focused on not falling off of Garden to push him away.
The waves never settle, staying just as huge and fierce as ever as they batter into the already wounded side of Garden, its demolished Training Area taking the brunt of the water's attack.
The waves are rings of water escaping from Eden's deadly presence.
Upon those crests, countless corpses rise and fall. The ocean verily boils below the spear point that is her terminus, seething and smoking as her multi-hued form touches it. Fish, T-Rexaurs, grats, SeeD personnel… all are pushed away from her body by the fleeing waves that ring her massive figure.
She hovers before Garden, her lower wings flapping idly to keep her aloft and her white frame overpowering the light of the sun that's sinking into the west behind Garden. Her halo, so reminiscent of what holds Garden aloft when it's underway, spins slowly and casts a wild array of color over the roiling waves. Her massive red cape flutters in the hurricane-force winds her slowly beating wings create even as she professes, her voice a whisper of deafening proportion, that our time is over and done.
She is the rightful destroyer. No one will hold dominion over her. No force will threaten her immortal existence. She will be no slave.
Golden light shines over me as her horrible laughter soars through the heavens. A lazy flap of her huge silver wings that spring from her halo top brings her to Garden's pulverized front facade in an instant.
Her lower wings flap only once before she lightly brushes one along Garden's massive frame, those feathers seeping through metal itself. A young cadet, barely in his second year of training with us, is trying to reach me as he's touched by an errant feather and immediately dissolves into dust and blood.
She's attacking me. She's attacking my Garden.
And that stranger who has been holding me to my perch reaches over me, wrenching my gunblade from the ground and from my hands before verily leaping over me to stand between myself and the destroyer of worlds, brandishing Lionhart as anyone would hold an oversized common sword.
That stranger I've never met, who feels so familiar to me…
The man who's been in both of my dreams, his irregular blond hair and slight build a common factor in both hallucinatory imaginings….
Who is this guy?
Why is he protecting me?
And more importantly… where is Rinoa?
There was a wild array of thoughts pouring through Cloud Strife's head at that moment in time. Most of them revolved around hatred.
He hated dark dragons. He hated their Dark Breath attack. He hated the fact that he could see master tonberries in the near distance, priming their knives and waiting for a chance to charge forward on the miniscule raised path that was available for them to reach him and that was currently blocked by said dark dragon. He hated his lack of trustworthy companions, having none of his familiar allies at his side other than First Tsurugi. He hated not having Fenrir close by, the cycle still being back in Edge because he had been forced to utilize another form of transportation.
Above all, he hated Reno.
It wasn't that the man was leaving him to fend for himself or that he'd done what Cloud had been expecting – simply dropped him off at the top of North Crater with a bag of equipment and vague directions to go down as deep as he could and drop it off. No, Reno had far surpassed Cloud's expectations. He was actually taking him as far as he humanly could, apparently simply unwilling to scale sheer cliffs with over sixty pounds of equipment strapped to his back.
It wasn't that Cloud was being forced to face his current opponent alone, either. The Turk was, amazingly enough, fighting at his side.
It was owing to the simple fact that Reno had manipulated Cloud into doing his work for him that Cloud hated him more than any breathing entity on the face of the planet at that moment.
Cloud had left the comfort and serenity of his home immediately after lunch, having enjoyed what he was dreadfully certain would be his last taste of Tifa's home made hamburgers for at least a good week. She'd questioned where he was going – he'd offered simply that he had a task he had to finish up, and that he'd be back soon.
Tifa had simply smiled, her eyes disappointed even though her expression shined with understanding. "Do you need me to pack you a bag?" she'd asked.
He'd replied with a no – he would be forcing the one who'd tasked him to provide for him, come hell or high water.
When she'd asked if his suddenly derived departure had something to do with Reno, he'd frozen just long enough for her to know that she'd hit the proverbial nail squarely upon its head.
"What does he have you doing?" she'd asked, a frown turning her lips.
"Just checking out some activity in a place Reno claims he can't reach. I'm apparently going to station some new monitoring equipment for him."
"And he can't do this himself? Really?" Crossing her arms under her ample breasts, Tifa had pouted.
Cloud had commended himself for actually holding his tongue – he'd been tempted to unleash with verbal berating the likes of which had never been heard towards the wily, sinister Turk who'd grabbed every last chain attached to everything that mattered in Cloud's life and given those chains a solid yank, but he'd moderated himself. Instead of immediately lashing out with his opinion, he took a moment to consider the man he had dragging him along on a task he knew nothing of and wanted no part in.
Reno, if nothing else, was an obsessive perfectionist in all things he decided to actually take on. He might have been a drunkard and a slacker, but if he chose to see something through to its completion, it was completed. If he was enlisting outside aid, especially from a man he frequently claimed could kill a drunken blitz and sober a Turk with simply his appearance, Reno very likely legitimately required assistance.
Tifa'd accepted that explanation with a bare grain of salt, having packed him a lunch anyway.
So Cloud had arrived, just a few minutes shy of two in the afternoon, at the edge of town to find a black Shin-Ra helicopter already waiting for him.
Reno had been leaning against the machine, a smaller and lighter version of what Cloud had chased the day before, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. A long exhalation blew a stream of acrid smoke from thin lips as slim fingers tugged the sunglasses that shielded the Turk's eyes from the sun back into unruly red hair. "You're cuttin' it damned close, Strife. Would've thought you'd've learned proper punctuality in the infantry, zo to."
Cloud's hatred of Reno had only started to build from that moment.
The snippy little comments here and there grated on every last nerve Cloud possessed. Even the seemingly polite thanks for assisting him were immediately followed by sneers, comments or looks that registered in Cloud's mind as a mocking laugh in his direction, an acknowledgement that Reno had him right where he wanted him and there was nothing he could do about it.
Cloud had been more than willing to simply jump from the helicopter and walk to North Crater by the time they'd finally made it across the strait that segregated the two landmasses that held their points of departure and destination. He was swearing to himself that if he heard one more comment about how 'completely awesome Tifa's rack is' he was going to snap the Turk in half.
The Turk had flown straight into the night, the sun's setting long preceding even the most initial sighting of the massive crater that marred the Planet's surface.
While Cloud would've been even more embittered upon reflection on the fact that he'd indeed spent an entire day having his ear chewed off by inane chatter from an annoying voice that insisted on punctuating every other sentence with 'zo to,' he found night a welcome occurrence – Reno fell quiet when the lighting grew poor, concentrating more on piloting the helicopter safely over rapidly changing terrain rather than driving Cloud absolutely insane.
As night had fallen, Cloud finally got a decent look at the phenomena Rufus had sent Reno to investigate. And he hated Reno all the more for bringing him so close to the unknown event.
He felt it stirring in his gut and his mind. The alien sensation of fire burning through his veins, weaker than ever before but still present, flickered through his body. Flashes of green burst along the back of his eyes, burning in his brain. A thrumming pressure built in his skull near his sinuses, driving flaring pain through his entire frame.
He'd groaned as he'd rubbed his head, leaning without energy against the firmly latched swinging door that made up the sidewall of his side of the small helicopter. Reno had barely cast him a look as he pushed the vehicle's control stick closer to the dash, slightly changing their pitch and raising the speed of their approach.
Cloud had shaken his head hard to clear the poisonous jade color from his vision, swallowing bile and unease. Then he'd noticed that Reno had flown them right to the top of North Crater.
"Going to drop me off here?" Cloud had inquired.
"Nope. I wanna make certain you're going to do as asked. Said I'm not peachy keen on going to the bottom. Nothin' said I'm going to be far out of earshot."
As turbulence had rocked the small vessel, Cloud had let his hatred of the wily Turk grow.
Even Cid had possessed the sense to know that you don't fly a small craft down into a crater.
Reno, however, was completely lacking in that quality. He all but pointed the nose of their helicopter straight towards the bottom and floored it.
A few close calls and frighteningly near-misses, a narrowly avoided collision with a stray floating rock and a couple wild sprints away from wild spurts of sickly green energy later, Cloud was ready to grab the control stick right out of the Turk's fingers and try his hand at flying if only to get them out of the apparently suicidal flight Reno insisted they take.
Reaching for his seat belt as the helicopter surged violently once more, holding on to it for dear life, Cloud swallowed another wave of sudden motion sickness brought on by the most volatile flying he'd ever been forced to partake in.
It was at that very moment in time that Reno had put the vehicle down, landing it with surprisingly smooth proficiency upon the very ledge that Cloud had stood upon years ago, where he'd been faced with two paths, had split his party of friends between them, and told everyone to ensure they stayed alive and all met again at the bottom of the crater.
"Only place wide enough to put a 'copter," Reno unnecessarily supplied even as Cloud, his hatred of Reno now revolving not only around his cynical and wicked nature and his inane, aggravating banter but now around his reckless flying and careless disregard for other peoples' lives but now also focused on his cocky arrogance and ridiculously inhuman skill with the most ridiculous flying machine man had ever invented, all but fell out of the machine and tried not to lose his recently consumed lunch to the stone below them.
It was then that a dark dragon decided that attacking would be splendid.
Cloud had barely enough time to wrench his sword from the small helicopter's interior and wipe his mouth with his hand, plant his feet and take a deep breath before it had unleashed with its Dark Breath.
And to add to his reasons for loathing the Turk he was traveling with, Reno had waited for the monster to complete its initial attack, having used Cloud as a convenient target for its aggravation at being disturbed by a helicopter very nearly landing on its head, to exit the machine.
"Gonna stand there all day, Strife?" Reno had mocked, forgoing his gun and instead drawing his EMR from the 'copter, a wild and bloodthirsty smile on his lips.
With a groan of dismay, Cloud had grit his teeth and launched himself towards the dark dragon, sword leading the way.
And he'd suppressed his scream of rage when he'd been firmly caught in a wildly cast Pyramid.
It had been that moment, that second, that Cloud decided that Reno really and truly needed First Tsurugi planted right through his chest.
Moments later, Bolt 3 raked over the land followed almost immediately by an errantly thrown Ultima.
Before Cloud could ponder where in the blazes the Turk had found materia, the Pyramid was released.
Staggering, Cloud glowered at his impromptu traveling companion. "The hell, Reno?" he snarled, his fist tightening its grip on his sword.
A cocky smile on his lips, Reno shrugged. "Bigger and badder are getting closer. I didn't want you so involved with our li'l dark dragon pal over there that you left me to those tonberry fuckers all by myself."
With a groan, Cloud swung his sword before him, putting it between him and the approaching crowned lizards with their knives. "Don't you dare snag me in another spell, Turk."
"You got my word," Reno said with a grin, his eyes narrowed and cold as they retained their focus on the approaching threat.
Their initial surge against one another past, Cloud was amazed how harmoniously he and the inglorious Turk battled. For ever strike Cloud landed, Reno was providing backup and support. For every blow Cloud suffered, Reno was tapping his undoubtedly illegally maintained materia to keep them both free from wounds and at full capacity. For every attack Cloud attempted that was dodged, the unlucky target of Cloud's initial attack found itself at the business end of Reno's electromagnetic weapon, unleashing with piteous screeches before falling dead, the Turk's no-nonsense approach to the fights they were facing apparent in his unleashing with his weapon's full potential.
As much as Cloud loathed it, the Turk stood by his side, his weapon carefully kept from contacting his left shoulder as he barely resisted the urge to tap it in place as they awaited the next master tonberry's decision to fight or fee, as naturally as any one of Cloud's normal companions would.
It brought back memories, fond and painful simultaneously, of his initial attack on North Crater, when he'd had his friends supporting him in his endeavor to put Sephiroth's ambitions to rest. When he'd stood beside Barret, listening to the oddly comforting sound of rapid machine-gun fire raze the opposition. When he'd stood next to Vincent, the stoic and silent man's gun a blast of racket that blared through the chaos before the monsters that rested in his blood stirred and lent their inhuman aid. When he'd fought with Yuffie, her shouts bright and energetic no matter how thick the opposition as she bounded through battle after battle. When he'd fought beside Red XIII, relishing in the sound of the noble beast's howls of triumph. When he'd battled beside Cait Sith, the treachery of the past long abandoned and the man behind the machine having cast his ultimate lot in with the rebels he was supposed to help stop, the robot's slang accent pouring over its megaphone as its mighty mog mount stood as an unstoppable guardian for everyone. When he'd battled along with Tifa.
Tifa, who he would have given anything to protect. Who he'd failed so many times in the past. Who he now could rectify those mistakes with. Who he now had a home with.
Cloud was wrenched violently back to reality as the master tonberry that stood on its own before them turned to run. A blaze of gunfire from a suddenly drawn gun mowed the beast down.
"Woo. Path should be safe for at least a little while, Strife. The equipment's in the 'copter, zo to."
"Don't you think that was unnecessary?" Cloud grumbled.
Reno simply cast him a twisted grin before he walked back to the vehicle.
Shoulders slumped, Cloud assisted Reno in the arduous task of unpacking the equipment that was loaded. Certainly enough, it was all encased in a huge rucksack that not only would be cumbersome, but also very heavy.
"I'll direct you on what to do when you get down there, zo to," Reno stated, shoving a walkie-talkie into Cloud's hand after he had assisted in getting the nearly sixty pound pack onto the mako-infused blond's shoulders.
"You're not going to make any effort to come down?" Cloud inquired, his eyes narrowed.
"Fuck no! What, you think I'm crazy?"
Cloud arched one brow.
With a huff, Reno snorted and crossed his arms, seating himself on the floor of the helicopter, his feet kicking idly at the ground outside of the small vehicle's sliding side door. "Someone's gotta guard the 'copter, yo. Otherwise there's no way to expeditiously get back to Edge."
"Right."
Cloud simply swallowed his complaints, having expected as much from the Turk and having received verbal confirmation of his suspicions. He held a small reservoir of comfort in the fact that every reason he had for loathing the Turk was justifiable. At the very least, it was justifiable to him.
Propelled by his loathing for Reno and his desire to be free of the Turk's overbearing presence, Cloud began the tedious descent into North Crater.
He'd not truly known what to expect. When last he'd been in North Crater, he'd descended along a spiraling walkway of rocky pillars and sloping paths littered with monsters. The closer he'd gotten to the bottom, the more odd the monsters and terrain had become – instead of simply being dragons and master tonberries, the monsters became skeletal dragon zombies and armored golems somehow supported on rocks that floated in midair.
When the centermost platform he and his friends had ended up on had crumbled with Jenova's monstrous form's death throes, they'd plunged into the blue-green stream that filled the bottom of the crater, sinking into the very heart of the Planet itself. And there, upon a small stone held aloft by the force of the Lifestream itself, they'd faced off with Sephiroth himself, his form twisted and transformed by Jenova's taint and the influx of impure Lifestream.
Once the rock had collapsed, once Sephiroth's form had burst into nothing more than swirls of Lifestream and energy and they'd claimed victory, the walkway had begun to collapse. Every rock that hovered seemed to lose whatever mystic property that had held it aloft, plunging into the planet. When the Highwind had scrapped itself down the side of North Crater, Cloud had assumed that easy access to the bottom of the massive mar on the Planet's surface would have been eternally demolished.
Once he left the ledge the helicopter was perched on, he found that indeed most of the walkway had been demolished – all that remained were a few sparsely spaced jutting platforms of stone, each quite solidly constructed but far too distanced from one another for any without mako or some other enhancement coursing through their veins to realistically navigate.
Gripping the straps of the pack that sat squarely and heavily on his back, Cloud began the difficult task of following the remnants of the path he'd taken so many years ago to clash with his nemesis over the fate of the planet.
His trip was surprisingly uneventful – every time he spotted a monster a few platforms ahead, a bang of a gun from far above would sound and the creature would either flee or collapse dead. While Cloud surmised that the Turk's intervention was entirely unnecessary and every creature he'd spotted on his way down into the crater's depths was no match for himself, he found himself surprisingly pleased that Reno was at least serious enough about this task to actively participate rather than simply smoke himself into oblivion while waiting for Cloud to invariably finish the task he'd been assigned.
It wasn't until he reached that portion of the path where the rocks had been floating that Cloud was truly shocked.
His path had differed this time – the walkway, broken and scattered as it was, had still hugged the massive cylindrical walls of the crater. The massive cave system that had existed, however, had been sealed by rockslides that Cloud surmised was attributing to the lack of monsters in his way.
He also lacked a clear view of the center of the crater. The 'second impact' as the Turk had dubbed it had caused such an upheaval in the center of the crater that the scant crust that had formed over the Lifestream's exposed surface once it had completed its seepage from the Planet's interior to shove the threat of Meteor back into space had been thrust upwards, forming the edges of a secondary crater within North Crater itself. The pathway Cloud was following slipped between the two craters' walls.
Once he'd reached the bottom of his walkway, however, he did find an easy path into the secondary impression in the Planet's surface. A large crack, wide enough that he and Barret would have walked through it shoulder to shoulder, ran straight through the massive stone wall that Cloud would otherwise have had to climb.
Stepping through, he'd stared with huge eyes.
The Lifestream, pure and blue as he'd not seen it since the first time he'd traversed Mount Niebel and seen natural mako pools, brilliant as he'd not seen it since the moments before he'd initially hurled the insane General of Shin-Ra's proud SOLDIER troops into its depths, pooled at the bottom of the inner crater. Tendrils of sickly green were streaming towards the sky, blue Lifestream appearing to stream away from it, dripping from it viscously.
"It's… like it's being pulled away…" Cloud surmised. "Whatever it is, it's being pulled away."
Suddenly his walkie-talkie burst into static, followed by an agitated voice hissing through the interference, "You reached the bottom yet, Strife?"
A frown turning his lips, Cloud pulled the device from the pocket in his cargo pants he'd devoted to it. "Yeah."
"Close as you can get to the deepest part?"
"I can probably get a few rocks closer. Give me a few."
Narrowing his eyes, Cloud stared at the path before him. Three large stones. Three large hovering stones that he could clearly recall having run and jumped over.
The final three stones that lead to the platform he and his companions had stood upon when they'd faced off with Jenova's mutated remains.
The first two jumps were effortless. The third, further than the rest, brought Cloud's heart nearly to his throat as he stumbled, his footing lost and his fingers clawing for purchase as a boot slipped right off the edge of the hovering platform.
Hauling himself into place, he lifted his electronic tether to the Turk above. "I'm here. Tell me what to do."
"Alright, zo to. Now listen carefully – this shit's not the most intuitive monitoring equipment on the face of the Planet, yo."
"Great," Cloud groaned.
It took him nearly an hour.
Cloud felt a small inkling of satisfaction, even though he was mere seconds away from tearing his own hair out.
Reno's instructions had been spot on, but the Turk and Cloud were working on different levels of technical expertise. And for some reason, Reno took requests to explain something in more concise detail as some variant of an insult.
But all said and done, the Shin-Ra equipment was up and running, Reno's tinny voice actually offering a burst of 'Thanks for the help' among the 'ya ta!'s and 'I am so fucking awesome, zo to!'s.
"Yo, what's going on?" Reno suddenly inquired.
"With what?" Cloud asked, arching a brow as he pondered exactly how he was going to circumvent all of the hard work he'd just performed and the delicate equipment he'd so carefully assembled to make the perilous jump back to the next stone that invariably would lead him out of the crater and back towards home.
"I've got some massive energy readings up here. Type is… fuck! MOVE!"
Cloud stared at the device in his hand, his brain twisting itself around two thoughts.
The first being that Reno, of all people, sounded genuinely concerned for him.
The second being that Reno must have had a reason for yelling such a command to him.
Then Cloud's eyes focused on the huge glowing blue field underneath the rock he was upon. They widened even as Cloud' breath hitched in his throat and his body threatened to freeze with terror.
He jumped just as the huge green flare burst from the Lifestream, consuming the rock he'd just been on.
The stone he'd jumped on crumbled the moment his foot struck it.
"STRIFE!" Reno's voice screamed over the walkie-talkie as Cloud felt himself plummet.
As everything was washed in green and freezing cold, Cloud gasped desperately for breath. One faint sliver of air slipped into his lungs, and then there was no more.
Feeling as if he was simultaneously plunging into the depths of the Planet itself and being hurled beyond the stars themselves, Cloud flailed desperately for anything to gain purchase on, his hands stretching and reaching for anything to touch. His walkie-talkie forgotten and discarded, he barely noticed the sudden silence as it fell completely away and took his link to Reno with it.
As Cloud's lungs screamed for air, his body wailed for warmth and his brain cried for stability, he felt that green aura around him constrict and constrain him, enveloping him and smothering him. He fought as desperately as he could, both hands opening and freeing themselves of any burden as he reached for anything material to ground himself to. Panic driving him, he couldn't bring himself to care about his inadvertently dropped sword as the simple needs for air and gravity bombarded him.
Then the green vanished.
There was air.
Drawing desperate gulps, Cloud shut his eyes tight to ward off any sensation of vertigo even as his brain began to process what scant information it could comprehend at that moment in time.
He was lying on something cool and hard that felt distinctly metallic, smooth as anything he'd ever touched in his life and lacking that faint grain linoleum always possessed for his sensitive fingertips. Somewhere very nearby was a fountain – he could hear water pouring into water, continuous and unending, entirely unbroken and therefore unobstructed. He still had clothes on his body, though he felt as if his black zip-up sleeveless sweater-top and similarly colored cargo pants had a few new rips and tears in them. His partial trench coat he always wore on trips of similar nature to the one he'd just been on was shredded beyond repair.
His sword was missing. His walkie-talkie was gone.
There were alarms blaring.
Cloud's eyes instantly sprang open, introducing him to an array of sights and colors he was entirely unprepared for.
He was indeed near a fountain. An enormous sculpture of an artistic rendition of a sea animal with a curled tail, scales and finery was spewing an arch of water into a huge circular pool that circled an enormous pillar that rose from the center of whatever chamber Cloud had found himself in. He was laying strewn on the floor of a steel colored circular pathway off of which sprang walkways, each with a differently colored arrow stained into the metal and pointing away from that centermost structure. Everything was sleek and metal, reflecting the whirling red lights that flashed everywhere around the enormous chamber with its vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch at least two, if not more, stories up.
Listening to the alarm, Cloud felt his eyes widen as he heard and understood the announcement that was floating atop the blaring wail.
"Intruder alert," the stern female voice announced. "Intruder alert. All unessential personnel stand clear of the blast doors. The blast doors are now closing. SeeD personnel are requested to the center lobby."
As the metallic clang of door after door slamming shut and the thundering of boots running away filled Cloud's ears, he struggled to his feet. Scowling, he bolted for the closest available exit to his rapidly imprisoned status.
The young man that stood between him and his destination screeched and dropped the hefty sword he was carrying before fleeing along the green arrow marked hallway, squeezing through the rapidly closing metal barricade and pausing just long enough to ensure Cloud was incapable of making it through the doors as well before they slammed shut with an earth-shattering bang.
Turning sharply on his heel, Cloud stared at his surroundings.
He was trapped.
Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes raised even as he retrieved the weapon the man he'd inadvertently chased down had left behind, spinning it once in his hand to get a quick feel for its weight and balance. It wasn't nearly as heavy as he was used to nor as bulky, but it was marvelously weighted and handled beautifully, each quick twirl and an experimental swing placing the weapon right where Cloud expected it to go with practically no effort. A touch more confident now that he had a quality weapon in his hand, he walked towards the center of the large room he'd been ensnared in, his eyes and stance a touch more prepared and relaxed, ready more for battle than for fleeing.
The centermost structure had a pair of doors perched right above a huge fall of stairs. Those doors opened as a resounding ringing sound announced the arrival of an elevator tucked behind them.
One foot falling back, Cloud lifted his newly attained sword before him, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the opponent who stood before him.
As he began to crack his knuckles the blond man emerging from the elevator smiled, his grin cold and his eyes calculating. "If you know what's best for you, you'll just give up now."
Cloud tightened his grip on his weapon and snorted softly.
A touch of mania touched the blond's lips as he crouched, red-gloved fists clenching as he hopped lightly on his toes. "That's it, buddy. You're standing between me and hot dogs."
-to be continued-
A/N: There was zero intention to insult or offend anyone of any religious belief or disbelief in this chapter. Squall's opinion is strictly Squall's opinion, and what I derived would be fitting of his character given his behavior and thought process throughout the game. Those opinions expressed here are not meant as an argument for or against anyone's beliefs (including my own!), but simply derived fantasy. :P