Cross Zone
Chapter Nine
It was all a mess. A mess that they had to clean up, but still a mess. Tifa sighed as she fell on the bed, the covers bending under her mass. She looked over, to where Aerith lay, sleeping soundly.
"It would really help if you would wake up." Perhaps not now though, she was dead on her feet as it was. "I should go and check to make sure Red is comfortable…" With a groan of creaking joints she stood.
"Get some sleep, Tifa." The soft voice came as a shock, and she stumbled slightly as she fell. Blearily, she looked over to the source. Through clouded darkness she made out a head of blonde hair. "I'll watch them."
"Are Barrett and Red okay?" she asked, the world swaying. The mass in the corner moved, and a hand snaked around her waist and began to guide her out of the Inn's room and into the hallway.
"They will manage."
"Are you okay?"
"Tifa," he closed the door behind him, "stop."
"Are you?" She pressed, her head ringing from the blow it received. "Okay!" She waved a hand to his face, her body shutting down on her, pressing the urge to sleep on all corners.
"Tifa," he repeated, and she had to wonder why he kept saying her name, "you need to go to sleep."
"What if someone finds us?" She turned her body, slipping from him and jamming her back against the door handle to her room. "You haven't slept. I haven't. It's…fair."
"I can go days without sleep."
"I'm an insomniac."
"In your dreams." His lithe fingers slid behind her, opening the door. She fell backwards before he caught her. She swayed aimlessly, vertigo not affecting her. Her long hair swung free, the hair-tie lost in the final stretch.
"Well," she pondered this, "yes, usually."
When had the bed become the floor? When had blankets been put on her shoulders?
"Goodnight Tifa."
She accepted it. Her mumbled farewell not heard as the click signified his departure.
Their heels hit hard, and it jostled Aerith every time from the dark sweet nothingness that serenaded to her in soft tunes. She sighed and tightened her grip. Cloud mirrored her, shifting her body until once more she was settled.
Somewhere at the back of her mind, she felt like she needed to do something. It was a horribly sickening feeling that settled itself in her gut and wrapped around her organs like an anaconda. It made her force her eyelids apart, holding them open by the weight of her will. The gray mass was hard to differentiate, before shapes began to take form, and the stairs were revealed.
They were running down stairs.
Occasionally bright flashes of green blinded her, the shower of lights appearing after each rise and dip of Cloud's arm. What was he doing? She couldn't keep her eyes open. Her system felt empty, her blood felt thin.
Her hair had been braided, the strands tied together at the top of her head. Tsking her tongue, she felt at a loss. She already had an armful of clothes of dark blues, blacks, with a few lighter colours for the sake of merriment. Her clothes were easy, the few outfits a necessity as her home had been annihilated.
It was Aerith's clothes that were giving her trouble. Out of respect she'd tried to pick out colours that would suit the girl, outfits that would please her. However, perhaps it was because Aerith was just so…girly. Tifa hadn't thought of wearing something so frilly in a long while.
Dashing aside hangers with large price tags, she opted instead to change her friend's style altogether. Aerith could handle shorts, couldn't she?
"How am I supposed to pick something out for Barrett?" The soft voice had her attention immediately, and taking her time, so as to not appear too desperate, Tifa shifted through another set of dresses.
"Pick the largest size?" she suggested, her cheeks growing warm at the thoughts that ran through her head. Cloud doing such a domestic thing as clothing shopping was honestly too surreal for her. "Make sure to pick a larger size than you for Zack." She felt silly, felt like a mom.
She did not want to be his mom. She wasn't, so she was okay, but still.
Picking up an – admittedly cute – top she added it to Aerith's soon to be clothes list. Odd thing was her friend still had the option of wearing her own clothes, sad thing was it was too dangerous for Aerith to go back to her house to retrieve them.
"This'll do." It would have to, because she wasn't going to come back.
They all towered over him, racing and ignoring. It was not that he minded, however he felt like an intruder. The shame that built was nerve-wracking, and the fact that his Grandfather's lectures echoed through his ears now was sorely unwanted.
He sighed, keeping an eye on the black haired one, who looked like she too was at her limits. A growl rose from his throat, before he pushed it back down. Now, now, no need to be like that. People would take it the wrong way, they were strangers.
Remember that.
Still, his gaze followed the black-haired one. Watching, cautious for when (and if) she decided her body had been pushed too far. He was nigh certain he had the strength to carry her if the need were to arise. It was making sure she wouldn't fall off…
His hind leg winced horribly, he let out a soft growl, something he suppressed, before kicking the pain off and continuing. They took the steps so slowly, their long legs not allowing for the balance that his gave. The sense of pride was hubris, best to get rid of it.
The worst part of it all, definitely had to be the waiting. It was somewhat ironic, really, that Tifa usually felt like she had an enormous amount of patience, but the waiting right now was killing her. Watching Cloud had been the preferable alternative, however he had left nearly an hour before.
Out to procure them dinner, she had concluded.
Barrett was the worst. He paced, he was cooped, and nothing she could say to him would make him less restless. Sometimes his angered frustrations would break into small bouts of worry, first for Marlene, then small snippets for Zack's well being, and eventually Aerith's.
He had taken the spot in the corner of their room, watching over their two unconscious patients. Oh, and Red too; the creature. With a sigh, closing the door behind her, locking it for safe measure – Cloud had a key – she slid her feet across the floor and sat next to Red, whose heavy body had taken to lounging along the base of Aerith's bed.
"So," she began, awkwardly, drumming her fingers along her knees. Barrett looked up, his first thought that the conversation was directed at him.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Red," Tifa blinked as she addressed the feline…dog (she never was going to decide what he was, was she?). Her and Barrett's speech fell into synchronization.
"Say so, before next time," the large man huffed, before crossing his arms. Tifa shrugged, knowing that regardless of the attitude he portrayed, he was going to listen to every word she said.
"Is there something you needed?" the creature asked, lifting his head to look over at her. "Anything I can do?"
"Oh, no," she nodded over to the door. "Cloud's gone to get everyone dinner." Cloud…he seemed more distant than ever – was it because he was physically there more that he had to recede back into his mind? If so, then what exactly could he be thinking about that could put him into daydream after daydream?
Stupid Tifa, you're thinking silly thoughts again.
The awkwardness settled in, and Tifa wrung her fingers together, not knowing what to say. Suddenly asking felt too personal – after all, who was she to dredge up the painful memories that may (or may not be) associated with his capture? Who was she to make him brood on what the scientists had done to him?
She wasn't Aerith, she couldn't be warm and compassionate while asking about delicate topics. She always appeared insincere, never able to sympathize, never able to empathize. Aerith, what had she gone through? She had been kidnapped, she was an Ancient, Turks were after her…
He destroyed everything.
She had been through so much…everyone…Tifa shook her head, carefully unfisting her fingers from the clench they had unconsciously gone into.
"Is…everything alright?" Red sounded cautious, or perhaps that was how he usually sounded. She wasn't sure. The constant growl in his accent made it hard to determine the right emotions.
"I…" I was thinking about home, "just wanted to say thank you." She smiled, it was forced, but then again who would be able to tell? No one; they saw the happy, confident girl she needed to be. Too bad that pretending to be something better never made one better.
They were so close Tifa felt like crying, in fact, she may have been crying – a quick sweep with a hand and nothing moist came away. Okay, she was good. Everything was fine and dandy and she wasn't crying to boot. Hey, a voice reminded, if you keep this up then wearing make-up will be a breeze!
She didn't wear make-up, she hated faces, masks, which was part of the problem. She didn't hate herself, per say, however the mask was thick, suffocating, and she was completely vulnerable without it. Where would she be right now without her hate? Lost within her own grief – like hell there was a way to accept and move on from that.
"Watch it!" The growl was deep, inhuman, it made her fear for her life, even as they spilled out of the stairwell and out onto the main lobby. Where, what? In a flash fire reached too close – hot, hot, she leaned back on a heel, before following with the momentum and kicking out.
Her foot met air, and she fell ceremoniously on her ass. With a grunt of pain as her tailbone smashed against her skin, she flinched. There, Cloud stood, eyes locked on her and his sword's tip aimed at the perpetrator who nearly melted her face off.
"Thank you," she said to him, meaning every word. He shook his head.
There was no spilling blood from the edge of the blade. Men were everywhere, here, there, behind her. The clicking of guns was only dimly noted. Focus came back, the floor first, the threads in the carpet, then the pattern. She raised her head. Now, beside Cloud, was Aerith, her green eyes drooping, her knees shaking.
Not in fear, not Aerith, she was a rock stronger than any hook Tifa could throw.
Stronger than her, a real role model. It made her sick. Move on, you're bitter, move on. Tifa, listen, you are not Aerith, you are not, you were never meant to be. She is your friend, you cherish her, when you're fully awake.
Barrett grumbled, had he said he was going to drop someone? She waited for the motion, her breath stuck between her teeth. No, the body was gently settled to the floor.
"Damn, kid, yer such a pain in my ass." He grumbled, before throwing his gun arm up, pretending. "Yo!" he called out, "Move outta tha way before I blow up all yer asses! Shinra scum."
But, Barrett, you don't have any bullets left. You can't shoot anyone. Cloud's elbow tapped Aerith, who swayed dangerously with the action. Still, because she was Aerith, and Aerith had a sixth sense that Cloud fed off, her head turned and she stumbled over to Zack.
She shook him, her face close to his bruising skin and whispered something. Zack didn't move, he hardly looked like he was breathing. Aerith paused, her head falling to his chest, before she pulled herself back with what looked to be a heave.
She slapped him. Tifa couldn't believe that sweet, innocent Aerith had done such a move as swatting an unconscious man, but she did, her voice still not strong enough to reach Tifa's ears. Zack shifted, the groan was loud. Aerith's fingers began to tug, and the body came with her.
Cloud and Barrett looked to each other, more than likely aware of the monstrous bloodbath that they had ensued. Slaughter, it was a slaughter. They came, they saw, they murdered. That was it. There was no mercy, not in the grand scheme.
Fear for your lives, she wanted to advise, even I will kill you in the state I'm in. Pulling punches when she would have to focus entirely on the target? In a dream, perhaps, however her palm would hit that windpipe, should she have a chance. In her experience she went through two types of exhaustion for a hand-to-hand fighter – the one where breaking the training engrained in her muscles to avoid killing was damn near impossible, and then the one where she missed entirely. She was only at the first.
She was tired, she couldn't think straight. She wanted to lie down and pass out. A twelve hour nap sounded great, just sleep, sleep, safe and content and no nightmares to keep her up. Aerith may not have the luxury, she was suffering from a different sort of energy loss. Zack…well.
If Zack died before they returned to safety, she wouldn't be…shocked. She wasn't even fully certain she would be sad – no, maybe. She would have to think about it later.
Someone was yelling, it was a shriek, really. She couldn't fully understand it, the base of the thought seemed to be that they wouldn't. The guards, they wouldn't do it. The SOLDIERs, the Thirds and the few 2nds that happened to be in the building…
Dead? She couldn't remember. Cloud had dealt with them, she had too – so a few had to have been still alive. That was good, at least. What was a challenge without a few SOLDIERs roaming around the edge of their safety net?
A gun raised, Cloud tensed, she scrambled to her feet. The creature, what's its name – Red something, it had said. Red should be fine, close enough? It growled in such a feral manner a few guards stepped back.
"Final frontier, huh?" she muttered, rolling her sore shoulders to loosen up the already locking muscles.
She rolled and groaned. The light was too bright, her headache was pounding, she felt positively sick. Clamping her mouth down out of habit, she blindly searched. With a swift curse in her thoughts she wondered where that basket was. If she was going to throw up, it better at least be in her waste basket.
Those scrap attempts at poetry should be thrown up upon. They were just awful. Aerith the poet, out. Aerith the painter – maybe. She would need to save up for the supplies. Maybe take a class first instead? See if she was any good? Oh, no, maybe Aerith the sketcher. That sounded reasonable.
"Aerith?"
No, not yet, she needed more sleep. With a numb hand – why did she keep sleeping on it, really? She waved the voice away. Her voice felt surprisingly hoarse as she grunted and shoved her face deep in the pillow. Had her mother washed it recently? It didn't smell like it usually did. It didn't smell like 'clean' either.
Strange.
Her world began to shake as a large force placed itself on her shoulder and rocked her. Her name was repeated, but she really just wanted a few more minutes in bed. She tried to swat the offending tsunami away, however the waves turned out to be too strong for her tiny ark.
Overboard! On Starboard!
She was pushed open and her eyes fluttered to take in a ceiling that was not hers. It was dirty, for one thing, with yellowing corners and a fan so broken its rotation was skewed. It spun on an angle, one side faster, the other side slower. It wobbled as if it were going to fall down and drill a hole in the floor.
"Wha?" Her fogged mind couldn't grasp what she was seeing. "Who?"
Dark hair fell into her nose and mouth. She sputtered, turning her face away. Someone was laughing, "sorry!" They didn't sound too apologetic, but she forgave them anyway. Tifa – wait, no, yes. It was Tifa! Blinking, clearing the fog and the blur, with bleary eyes she looked over to the edge. There Tifa stood, clean white shirt and all, hair down and washed – which she should know, considering Aerith had more or less just ate it moments before.
"Tifa?" she croaked, not needing anyone's reminder at how awful she looked in mornings. Her skin always ended up blotchy, her eyes seemingly puffed up to spite her, and her breath – oh, Planet was that another story. You're missing something.
"Oh!" Right, Shinra —everyone! "You're okay!" They were, she was. Black hair and black bruises came into her mind, the shock of the reminder made her jump in haste, only for her blankets to tangle in a vise around her knees.
She hit the floor fast, hard, it made her head ring. Tifa was saying something, already hovering over her, helping her up. The ring was too shrill to make out what she was saying.
"Zack!" Aerith managed to huff, holding her head, her toes curling against the throbbing. Tifa gently lead her upwards.
"He's fine," she answered first. The amusement was clear in her voice. "You fell out of bed just for that?"
No, Zack thought he was going to die. She couldn't remember the lobby, she remembered there was a lobby, remembered trying to wake him up. She couldn't remember how it ended – she was too exhausted to stop herself.
If Zack…really had…
She would never be able to forgive herself. She didn't even realize that between the time that Tifa had told her that Zack was fine and her remembering she had started to hyperventilate. She put a hand on her chest.
"Everyone else? Cloud? Barrett? Red XIII?" That was the dog's name, hopefully, but still, it was with them.
Everyone needed to have gotten out safely for her to calm down fully. The dread pouring in like a tempest through every pore she had was not welcome. It made the need to vomit come even stronger. Tifa's hands, no gloves, placed themselves steadily on her shoulder.
"Aerith," she called, but the name seemed so distant…"Aerith!" Her shoulders were shaken.
"Y-yeah." Tifa looked straight into her eyes, the dark wine colour seemed like such horrible foreshadowing. Her fingers twisted into the material of her… pants. She was wearing pants?
"They are fine. All alive – Zack's still out of it, but he's just sleeping."
They were okay. The sigh of relief made her boneless, and she slumped to the side. Tifa chuckled, once. It really was no laughing matter.
"I'm wearing pants?" The air was too thick for something so happy. Aerith's grin stretched wryly, before a thought came to her. "You were the one who did it, right?" She sat up, from the wall, and pointed hurriedly to Tifa's chest.
Tifa laughed. The action made the raven-haired fighter look so much younger. For a second Aerith couldn't understand what was so funny, as it was her dignity on the line. She pushed Tifa's shoulder, prompting a response, but laughter continued.
Eventually, Aerith couldn't help but join in – after all, why not?
They could.
Zack fell against her, the urgency woke her up, past the dark, beckoning, sweet – NO! He was going to die, Aerith.
"Come on!" she urged, Zack following her without a sound. She pulled him, one hand in his that squeezed weakly back, the other was fisted into the shredded remains of his shirt. She pulled him.
They needed to get to the doors. She wished she could do more, but other than a mediocre spell that would knock her out, there was nothing else she could do. She could andwould save Zack. She had to. There was nothing more tragic than someone who had so much to live for…than to die a death he fully accepted beforehand.
She would not let it. She didn't realize she was babbling while dragging him, until he pushed her. The strength wouldn't normally have been enough, however she was fragile herself – no, never, really? She was strong! She would have to be! The ground flooded, no, it rushed. Either way she hit it and Zack pulled her right against him.
The roar of bullets sounded like the ocean.
"So… cake…" The mutters were incoherent, however something in them made her laugh as she held onto him, as if she could keep him there, in that world.
The green flashed, behind him, a long wisp. It lasted only a moment, the green of materia, but at the same time not, not. She didn't understand. Zack's arm pushed her head down, the attempt successful more due to gravity than strength.
She was supposed to protect him.
That was right. What good was a person who couldn't even keep her word.
"Come on," she huffed, promptly ignoring the darkening around the corners of her vision. "You can crawl – babies can crawl." Did that make sense? She wasn't sure, really, not. Yes, no, maybe? She pushed him up, and his leg slowly slid along the carpet.
She followed him, keeping as flat to the ground as she could to avoid the overhead barrage. Why shoot them, after all? Cloud was the threat, Barrett was the threat, Tifa was the threat. The bodies on the floor were nothing. Not worth enough to waste bullets on.
And imagine the wrath of the fighters?
Her hand felt surprisingly wet, and it took her a moment before realizing that her forearm and legs were also soaking – why? No, not soaking, warm, cold. Whatever it was that was wet was warm but cooling quickly. Pulling her palm back she blinked at the stark crimson.
Blood.
Glass, she noted it; it was everywhere; the glass doors had been shattered in the fusillade, the long shards cut her in numerous places. She couldn't even feel it, and with a quick prayer that Zack wouldn't either, she pushed him further.
The metal base of the door was the problem. The shards stuck up, deadly knives prepared to impale at a moments notice. She held fast onto Zack, keeping him in place.
"You…should learn to use doors," she joked, "they are so…amazing..."
"…know…" The mutter was barely heard, but it didn't matter. They needed to get out, then run. Run away and run to safety. Run until she passed out, and Zack no longer had a reason to stay awake. As it was he was heavily wounded, muscles could be torn, bones broken, he could have a concussion – could he? No…his eyesight was normal, his gaze followed her…
Everything went black.
The bandages were the worst, probably. Tifa frowned as she watched Aerith accept her take-out dinner, frowned at the several bandages that hid the larger cuts. Cloud's energy had been spent after he healed Barrett, bringing him back from the brink of death, then her.
The bullets had been more of a shock than the first time. She had been able to feel them. She shook herself and rubbed her legs to get rid of the phantom pain. She had barely noticed the first bullet, and Cloud had healed her before she had a chance to…
Zack had been after, to save him from irreparable damage, Aerith had been last. By then the point was to stop the bleeding cuts…so many. It was horrifying how a person could become so bloody from so many shallow lacerations. The blood still coated her hair, the dark circles around her eyes were still a concern.
Cloud handed her hers, and Tifa took it. When their fingers brushed she pulled back, feeling silly. She took a peek. His blue eyes were back in the white plastic, his hand rummaging before he pulled out another styrofoam container and handed it to Barrett.
Silly Tifa, he didn't notice. Why would you think he would?
"Um," Cloud hesitated. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer…" His glowing gaze was fixated on their newest member.
Red, sitting on his hind legs, nodded politely. "Anything will do." That wasn't what Cloud was asking, "I like meat, I mean." He was stumbling over his words? Then again, the mere fact that the creature could speak was still awe-inspiring. "I don't get it often…but I like meat."
Cloud paused, his gaze darting to the remaining containers in the bag. "There's meat in them," he explained, pulling out another white container and handing it over. "You can pull the vegetables out."
Red took the container in his mouth, and Tifa had to stare at how the feline's teeth sunk in with no resistance at all. To test, Tifa tried to jam her nail in the lid of her own, however it took her a moment before a large puncture popped.
Wow. Averting her gaze, even as Red said his thanks – she really didn't need to see how he would manage to open it – she plunged her chopsticks into the Wutain cuisine. Swirling the noodles around she shoved them in her mouth.
Okay, she was hungry, really, really hungry. Not to turn into a pig she settled for chewing fast and swallowing before she could taste. After the second bite she threw manners aside – with a swift apology to her papa – and dug in with a gusto that could only be a result of an empty stomach.
"Slow down, Tifa," Cloud said. He sounded…light. "You might choke."
Beaming up at him, because she had finally done something right – finally, she shrugged.
"You're just lucky I didn't start eating the curtains," she had to keep this going – Cloud…was not just talking. This was the sort of conversation they used to have. Silly, pointless,this was a piece of the old Cloud.
She missed him.
His soft laughter wasn't as sincere as it used to be, but that was okay.
"I'm being serious!" She swatted lightly at his heel, and he nodded, agreeing with her but not meaning it.
Barrett grunted, the food being shoveled into his mouth too fast to contribute to the conversation.
"Better be careful," Tifa warned, "you wouldn't want to choke."
There was soft laughter all around.
But…not from Aerith. Frowning, Tifa looked over, wondering why. Aerith's hands were at her sides, chopsticks held between fingers.
The food had not been touched. Her eyes weren't even on them at all – instead…They were on Zack. Her gaze was locked on him, a light frown on her face. She was in a faraway place, but Zack was still sleeping, and his meal had been cooling on the bedstand beside him.
"Aerith?"
"Huh?" She snapped back, blinking. "Oh, wow. Can't believe I did that." She shook her head with a snicker. "Imagine Zack!" She carried on the conversation flawlessly, commanding everyone's attention without a single effort. "His food is going to be cold."
The awkward tilt that her spew ended with seemed to have gone unnoticed. Barrett suddenly joined in after a hard swallow.
"Yeah, the brat would probably start cryin' over his food. Can see 'im not wantin' his food cause it's too cold for him."
"He'd eat it anyway," Tifa added, because she needed to be a part of the whole group. Aerith might not notice, being the radiant person she was – stupid radiance – Tifa crushed the bitter thought immediately. She never wanted to be like Aerith, she wanted to be strong, to be the rock that held people together.
That would suit her best, she thought.
She always thought that.
"No," Cloud disagreed, "I could see him spitting it out."
Aerith laughed, Barrett choked.
"He would!" she gushed, "I can see that. He'd be so upset about it. Shoot. I'll probably feel bad and go get something for him…" She pouted and crossed her arms to the side, the tilt to her lips taking away from her seriousness.
"Don't worry about that!" Tifa added, the force too strong for the fragile tone of the conversation. She was losing confidence; she didn't want to be left out. "If worst comes to worst," she shrugged, "I can pin you down. Or rather, I can pin him down, and give his dinner to Barrett."
Aerith laughed. "Oh," she sighed, wringing her hands together, "I can't do that though."
Tifa nodded, it was too harsh. "We can dye his hair bright green instead. You know, as a little incentive for him to wake up sooner next time."
"Ha!" Barrett gasped over food, he grunted, fist on his chest before swallowing. "I'm for tha'."
Cloud ate quietly, seemingly at peace. Of course you would notice, Tifa. Red had forgone being an item in her thoughts – he was just eating quietly!
She shook her head. "Is something wrong, Cloud?" she asked instead, because even though she felt cheap for acting like Aerith, she couldn't help it.
"I was thinking." Way back when she would have teased him for that. "If Zack doesn't wake up soon, we will have to figure out a way to get him out of Midgar with us without being detected."
The cheer was shattered. Aerith's grin fell; Barrett returned to his food, thinking himself, Red's interest was gained. Cloud pondered off, the new one firmly in place, the old dissipated.
For one second, less even, Tifa hated Zack.
She had been right when she thought she would kill them. That was how she refined her technique; it was meant for murder. She could control it, spare whoever she fought but not when she was exhausted. She was fighting on empty adrenaline, nothing to back it up.
Her hands shook, her footing was off, but still she rushed people, knocking wrists away and crushing throats – for the unlucky ones – and snapping jaws – for the lucky ones. She couldn't even remember what she did after she had completed the movement. Right, left, up, kick, punch, down. Then forgotten.
The first bullet brought searing pain, the tearing of flesh tearing her out of her daze. She couldn't…the calf was torn, the bullet missing bone but exploding through everything else like an angry missile. She limped and nearly fell. The cry was ripped from her lips, and the next bullet hit her thigh.
No, no, no! She would not die like this! No, she couldn't. She fell to the ground, and to her horror she waited for that last bullet, even dared for it to come. Dared for a tiny slug of metal to fly and hit her in her forehead.
She dared them to kill her.
The large body in front of her nearly made her cry.
"Eh, you alright, Teef?" Barrett asked, shielding her. A scream caught in her throat as a bullet hit his arm, his normal, whole arm. Flashes of fear wound around her, snapping against her skin like harsh wire. What if Barrett lost his other arm? Then what? How would he hold Marlene?
"Spike!" he called out, and on the other side, amidst a sea of pooling blood and an island of linked together corpses, Cloud killed another, and looked over. His feet froze for only a second, tripping over the broken arm of a corpse, before he ran over with frightening speed to where they were.
Barrett was hit again…and again. He hid his chest and face as much as he could behind his gun arm, protecting the vital areas even as some young fool emptied his magazine on the large blockade that was her friend. Barrett was…
Barrett is…
Cloud cleaved the man in two before the thought could be finished, the gun still firing, the finger holding it without being connected. Cloud kicked it away, the bullet rounds stopped. Barrett fell next, and she couldn't stop. She tried, but couldn't. It was too much, too much, too graphic, too many memories, too much pain.
Her legs were on fire, and the blissful numbing was not a good thing. She hated that she was conscious enough to know she wanted the pain. That it meant that she might be okay. Barrett gurgled – no, that was another solider that fell. Bursts of bullets…
Cloud was a demon.
No…he was an angel. She could practically see them, pristine, angelic wings, stained at the tips with dark blood. It didn't matter. He was going to save them because she couldn't stand, because Barrett was dying, because Aerith and Zack had…yes. They had managed to get outside.
He was going to save them because she was not ready to die.
The brutality was horrific, but she didn't care. No, this was not the old Cloud, but this Cloud was also keeping the promise from that night of their childhood. This Cloud changed, too much, but she could learn to like this one. The old one was under there somewhere-
A spray of blood, not hers, not Barrett's, splashed across her face and onto the wall behind her. It was in her mouth, in her eyes and nose. She gagged, and then, silence. No, heavy breathing. Who now? She spit and wiped her eyes, the red smearing everywhere – get off, get off!
"Come on!" The glow was strong, the testimony to Cloud's materia. In a thought, she knew she was safe, that Cloud would save them. That he was saving him.
I'll protect him next time, she swore.
Time passed, Barrett lived. He was going to be okay, and by the time the eighth bullet hit the carpet, and Cloud moved on to her…she felt pity.
Cloud's face was drenched in worry, sweat beaded at the sides, blood coated the tips of his hair and stained the roots. He was breathing heavily, his hands shook and when he activated the materia to heal her, the green glow enveloping her legs, he held his breath.
A hitch due to pain.
Tifa said nothing, waiting, even as pain enveloped her as the bullet forced its way out. She bit down, not on lip, or cheek. She ground her teeth together so as to not distract him, and when her legs were completely healed – why had he done that? She stood. She wobbled, ghost hands of pain running along her system.
Cloud remained where he was, and she had to remind herself that they had been fighting their way out for nearly an hour, and he had taken point. He had killed the most, killed 3rds and 2nds and soldiers, and then had to heal them – had to bring Barrett back from the dead.
She grabbed his arm, much like how Aerith had done to Zack.
Cloud shook her off. She backed up, hurt more by the action than the bullets that now sat harmlessly in a bloody pool on the coated rug.
"Get Barrett," he ordered, and she complied. Cloud stood and shook himself, swallowing his increased breathing, forcing it to become calm.
It was horrifying, how easily he could make it seem like he was perfectly alright. He was no God, she knew that. He seemed to think of himself as one. A mighty 1st, but he was still, deep down, the little boy in Nibelheim.
"Come on, Barrett." She grabbed his arm – his real one – and with her remaining strength she pulled him up. Thankfully he helped, standing on his feet before swaying dangerously.
"Can' say," he slurred, "tha' I like materia all tha' much, but damn."
Tifa had to agree. Cloud walked out of the broken window, onto the street. Tifa followed, haplessly looking for the other two they had come with.
No, wait – Red! She spun, and her eyes landed on the creature. He was limping behind her, not bleeding.
"You didn't watch your back," he explained. "I couldn't let someone shoot it."
Barrett continued on, muttering something, following Cloud to where Aerith and Zack were. Tifa couldn't move. She nodded, not able to even think of a 'thank you' and not able to comprehend at how close she had been to dying a moment ago.
Not able to think about how much she owed Red.
He walked past her, saying nothing about the obvious limp, or how the whimpers were high and clear even to her ringing ears – when had that started? She followed, not able to say a thing. Not able to think of the words.
Thank you was not enough.
A/N: Sorry for the late update! Thank you (eternally) to my beta, to my reviewers - even those who simply favourite/alert this story. I hope you enjoy it - they are FINALLY out, eh? I hope everyone did/is enjoyed/ing their march break! Read and Review!
