Chapter Warnings: some medical/body horror.
9.
The urge to lie down and cry himself to sleep was a tempting voice in the back of Cloud's head. Too big, too much, it was saying. Too big and too much and there are three generals this time around, what could you possibly do to change things?
He adjusted his hold on Tseng so he wouldn't topple over and started down the path that threaded back towards Banora village. He should probably wait for Zack, but Zack would no doubt want some time with Angeal and Cloud was not, was not going to begrudge him that. Was not. It was slow going, maneuvering the trail without dropping Tseng, but eventually he made it back to the houses. Mrs. Hewley opened her door and gasped when she found an exhausted trooper and unconscious Turk on her doorstep.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hewley, but Tseng needs a place to recover. Do you mind if we wait here for Lieutenant Fair to return?"
"N-no, no, of course not." She opened the door wider to let him in, then shut it and hurried to lay a blanket over the sofa. Cloud managed to slide Tseng off his shoulder without banging anything on the wooden furniture and got him into some semblance of a comfortable position. He didn't have a Libra materia to do a proper scan, but he could tell that Genesis was carrying some damn good magic.
"What happened?" Mrs. Hewley asked softly.
"Genesis." He glanced up in time to see a painful moue twist her lips. "You know that ShinRa's going to come after you, right?"
"I knew that the moment I heard Genesis had gone missing," the old woman said with a sad smile, and Cloud felt a wave of suspicion, heard a voice whispering, Sephiroth's human mother let herself be used in Hojo's experiments, what is there to say that this one hasn't done something similar?
"Then why are you still here?" In an empty village, he didn't bother to add.
"There are some things you can't outrun," she said kindly, sounding an awful lot like her son, and Cloud thought of the Remnants and reanimated corpses and had to take a moment for some calming breaths.
"True," he said, carefully calm, "but ShinRa isn't one of those things. If nothing else, get out of here for Angeal's sake. He's already lost his best friend, he doesn't need to lose his mother, too."
"And where would a trooper have me go?" Her voice wasn't malicious or condescending, just tired and honest and perhaps actually curious. If she died on Cloud's advice, General Hewley could legitimately blame him, but on the other hand, he'd apparently been willing to leave her behind. (And where were you when Nibelheim burned?)
"My hometown is a small village in the mountains. It has a reactor in it, but it's easy to hide there."
"I could put your village in danger," she pointed out.
"I'll tell you how to get there if you're willing to keep an eye on things."
"What makes you think ShinRa might do something?"
"Why do you think they'll destroy Banora?"
She gave him a brief, tired smile. "What makes you think I'll keep my word?"
"Lieutenant Fair has told me at great length about General Hewley's sense of honor. I'm hoping the general got it from his mother."
When she smiled again, it was so bittersweet that Cloud was reminded of his own mother's darker days, the days when she looked at him and saw 'husband' instead of 'son' and a young beautiful woman looking back at her from the mirror. "I will do my best to help, Private Strife."
She listened as he told her the best way to get to the western continent and that the only way to get into Nibelheim itself without walking or riding was the supply route that came in from Rocket Town. Cloud was finishing before he saw one of Tseng's fingers twitch, and then he shut up, watching as Tseng went from unconscious to awake in seconds. He took in his surroundings with characteristic aplomb.
"Mrs. Hewley," Tseng said politely, sitting up and absently straightening his jacket as if he did this sort of thing every day and hardly noticed the ache of waking up from magic attacks anymore. Cloud was impressed. "Private Strife."
"Sir," Cloud saluted sharply. "You were incapacitated by a magic attack from General Rhapsodos before he disappeared. I brought you back here to recover. Lieutenant Fair remained behind with General Hewley and hasn't yet returned."
"I was under the impression that there was no one left in the village."
Cloud was silent, but Tseng didn't appear to expect an answer. He stood carefully and bowed to Mrs. Hewley. "Thank you for allowing us the use of your home, ma'am."
"Of course."
Awkward moment much? the old Zack-voice in his head dryly commented. Then the real Zack chose that moment to knock on the door, obviously upset but pretending he wasn't. "I've been looking all over for you guys! C'mon!"
The flight back to Midgar was silent. Mrs. Hewley had waved them off with a quiet, "I'll be fine," giving Cloud a knowing half-smile, and Zack appeared too…brooding? Overwhelmed?...to notice. Tseng was at the helicopter's controls again, face unreadable. Cloud had no idea what the Turk was thinking.
He wondered if he'd messed up somehow, even though he'd done his best in what was a bizarre and unexpected situation, and he wouldn't be feeling so unsettled if only Zack would fucking look at him. Cloud absently wrapped a hand around his mother's necklace and told himself that Zack had been hit with a lot today, he just needed time to absorb it all and then Cloud could work on (re)building a friendship. He wouldn't take Zack for granted this time around, not that he ever really had, even if this time around Zack wasn't quite –
No, no, Zack was Zack, even if the man that had once taken up a large part of Cloud's mind would've done more than stand and stare. Maybe the SOLDIER was a bit more immature than he remembered, but that didn't mean anything. Even Aeris hadn't been the same. If people were different and if Sephiroth wasn't the only general anymore, it was only because Cloud was fucking around with things and, Hel, sometimes it hit Cloud at the most random moments just how much influence – or power, or whatever the fuck someone wanted to call it – he was throwing around here.
"Planet to Cloud!" said Zack loudly, making Cloud flinch and reach for a sword he hadn't worn in years. Zack was still too pale and too distant under his otherwise friendly grin and Cloud hated it. "We're back in Midgar, kiddo, Tseng's already hauled ass back inside. Make sure you report to your commanding officer, yeah? I'll be seeing you around!"
And then Cloud was alone in a silent helicopter, Zack already half-jogging away before he could say anything.
Cloud's grip on the carved materia was so tight he could feel its corners pressing painfully into his palm through his leather gloves. Letting out a long breath, he forced himself to let go and tuck it under his shirt again before pulling himself out of the cramped helicopter. Technicians scurried back and forth across the helipad, ignoring him as he headed towards the entrance that would take him down to the recruit barracks. He should probably report to Commander Gysahl first, but he was too damn tired to care.
…
Sephiroth stared blankly at Zack's mission report.
Private Strife was professional, it said.He knows his way around a rifle well enough that it'd take something totally serious to mess him up. He appeared confident acting with and without orders.
And what, precisely, did that mean? From what the rest of the report said, everything had gone relatively smoothly, even with the appearance of Genesis (see, sooner or later they all leave you) and Tseng's subsequent casualty. According to the report, the three had come across the two wayward generals while investigating an old warehouse, Genesis had knocked Tseng out of action before Angeal interfered, and then the two Firsts were gone again. One, two, three. Considering how Zack's reports tended to be more rambling than anything else, this was too cleanly cut, which meant something had happened, and it wasn't considered paranoia if there really was a conspiracy out there. Sephiroth calmly straightened the papers on his desk, lining up his pen parallel to the edge of the blotter, and reminded himself that coincidences did exist, it was just a matter of probability and chaos theory and otherwise rational explanations.
It was late enough in the evening that most employees had gone, only a few officers still loitering around, which is why the arrival of a particular presence was even more startling. Checking a sharp breath, wiping his expression clean, Sephiroth said clearly, "Come in."
Angeal entered his office. Both of his wings, one smaller than the other, arched from his right shoulder and brushed the floor with their pinion feathers.
("You're my angel!")
"Angeal," Sephiroth said calmly, heart fluttering. "This is…unexpected."
He'd never seen Angeal look so exhausted, even in Wutai. "Do you remember the time we had to talk Genesis out of killing Hojo?" Angeal asked without preamble.
"Yes," Sephiroth replied, thinking of waking up from a brief coma to Genesis in such a rage at Hojo's constant experimentation that President ShinRa had considered having Genesis terminated.
"I see now that I made a mistake. Then, and now," Angeal said quietly, holding Sephiroth's gaze. "And in the process, I hurt one of my closest friends."
Sephiroth pressed his fingertips together and looked over the top of them with a half-lidded stare. After a moment Angeal asked, "You sent Zack after us, didn't you?"
Sephiroth remained silent. Angeal broke eye contact to look somewhere on the far wall.
"And did you also choose to send that particular trooper for a reason?" Something must have changed in Sephiroth's body language because Angeal continued, "He said that angels can hurt just as much as humans. An odd thing for someone who isn't you or Genesis to say."
("What's it like being an angel?"
"It's like being human."
"How so?"
"Angels can hurt just as much humans can.")
"What?" Sephiroth said numbly.
"He also knew about Jenova. What's going on, Sephiroth? What's being kept from us?"
Sephiroth stood up and walked over to the window, restless. "I don't know, Angeal."
He sensed Angeal moving towards him, something in his bones singing more loudly the closer their bodies were until Angeal's breath came quietly by his ear. "Genesis is dying, Sephiroth," Angeal murmured. "He's decaying, while the both of us are stronger than ever. He thought that Jenova would be his best chance, and so did I. So I followed him. What else would you have had me do?"
"You think I wouldn't have left ShinRa for you two?" Sephiroth replied just as softly, and felt Angeal jerk in surprise.
"Sephiroth, I - "
"I spoke with Hojo not long after Genesis left Wutai. The man is insufferably proud of himself and seems to think Genesis' condition is because Hollander made a mistake somewhere. However, I think Hojo truly doesn't know why this is happening, or he would've either used it against Hollander or taken Genesis as his own experiment. I wasn't able to access Genesis' records myself."
Angeal audibly hesitated before allowing the sudden change in subject. He always did have difficulty standing up to either Sephiroth and Genesis. "Hollander never gave Hojo any record of Project G, as far as I know, and Genesis has destroyed all the hard copies he could find. If any more exist, they're with Hollander."
"Then we are at an impasse," Sephiroth finished flatly. He absently wished the night sky was visible through the light pollution of Midgar; then he might have something to look at through his office window other than the upper Plate. "Only Hojo knows exactly where Jenova is, assuming Jenova's cells would help at all."
Genesis is dying.
He was the most arrogant and infuriating man Sephiroth had ever known, but they were the same. Both born by artificial means to a predetermined future, both so damn powerful with all the frailties of being human on the inside. Genesis and Angeal had always been the closest among the three of them, and Sephiroth. Well. He'd been content to guard that, to be nearby while knowing he'd never actually be a part of it. They weren't meant to die, they were practically gods, and yet the one of their number who most hated and envied humanity was the one dying like a human. You were right, Cloud.
"I'm sorry, Sephiroth," whispered Angeal, sounding like a man who'd lost everything. Part of Sephiroth wanted to turn around and put his arms around Angeal. Another part sneered and also whispered, You only say that because you failed. One day, they all leave.
So he moved back towards his desk and deftly fished out both Zack's mission report and Strife's file. He said calmly, "My decision to send Private Strife to Banora was made in conjunction with Commander Gysahl. One of the doctors of the Regular army saw fit to inform me of the boy's condition, as he apparently fell into a mako pool as a child and survived. Both his blood tests and his physical performance scores support this story, but he seems to have a talent for insubordination."
Angeal was silently walking back around to the front of Sephiroth's desk, his smaller wing giving a small twitch of tension. Sephiroth went on, "Because he's a candidate for SOLDIER, both myself and Commander Gysahl wanted to send him on recon with an actual SOLDIER to see if he could act as part of a group."
"He fought and threatened Genesis," said Angeal.
"…What?"
"I assume you know the gist of what happened." Sephiroth nodded. "After Genesis knocked out Tseng, I tried to interfere, but…Strife, you said?...took him by surprise with weapons he'd taken off the clones."
Sephiroth stared at him.
"Somehow he knew that we were looking for Jenova. I don't know what he said to Genesis afterwards, but Genesis is refusing to speak." Not even to me, were the unspoken words.
"Strife is fortunate that Tseng didn't witness that," Sephiroth replied slowly. "It's obvious that more is going on and it seems Strife is indeed involved, but I would prefer to keep the Turks out of this. And Heidegger, for that matter."
"What about Lazard?"
"The man has enough to worry about as it is." Sephiroth laid down the files he was holding, absently straightening them again. "I will confront Strife myself and judge his answers before taking action."
"You know, Zack called him 'Cloud.'"
Sephiroth's shoulders tightened. "Yes. His name is Cloud Strife," he answered stiffly.
"That's not a very common name."
"That just makes it an improbable coincidence, not an impossible one."
Angeal didn't press the issue, but Sephiroth was already regretting the moment of adolescent weakness when he'd woken in the middle of the night and Angeal asked him what his nightmare was about. And Sephiroth had answered truthfully, told him about the angel he'd dreamed up as a child, the way he probably wouldn't have if Genesis had been there and not away on a solo mission.
("You would have an angel called 'strife,' Sephiroth.")
…
Elena's absence the day after he returned from his mission was noticed, but Cloud let it go. If there was something else bothering her, then he'd wait until she was ready to talk.
His report to Gysahl was unremarkable, the commander listening and asking few questions before dismissing him. He was given the rest of the day off, which meant that Sergeant Tokka would be drilling him into the parade ground the next day. Cloud couldn't muster up the motivation to care. With nothing else to do but study for subjects in which he already had practical experience, he pulled on a worn pair of jeans and a plain, faded black shirt and slipped off to the train station.
He was surprised to find an unusually high amount of tension in Wall Market. People cast suspicious glances everywhere, jumping at any loud noise; Cloud made sure to walk in a slouch rather than with military strides and that the knife in his boot was hidden but accessible. On one of the steel walls of the sector someone had crudely spray-painted SHINRA AUTHORITY IS SHINRA OPPRESSI. The last two letters trailed off abruptly, as though the vandal had been unexpectedly interrupted.
I know it's been a few weeks since I last saw Vincent, but what the hell did I miss?
Now that it wasn't dark and Elena wasn't along to drag him anywhere, Cloud could appreciate the sight of the new, unmarred SEVENTH HEAVEN sign. Because it was only late morning the bar was empty, rows of salvaged tables and chairs with cleaning supplies sitting untouched on one of them.
("Tifa, get the kids down behind the bar! You there, cover the fucking window before they get through!")
Cloud took a moment to remember when and where he was.
"What do you want?"
The sudden voice made him twitch, and he looked up to find a woman with short brown hair and unsympathetic grey eyes. She was smaller than Cloud, dressed in a green tunic, long shorts, and heavy black boots, and though he didn't immediately see a weapon he had no doubt that she had finished her fair share of battles. It took a bit of mental searching through the fog of a hangover, but he finally recognized her as the bartender he'd seen
(the One Who Will Burn the World, said the Planet)
when Elena brought him here. "Looking for something to bury my troubles," he finally replied.
"We're not open for business."
"I just need something cold. All-natural."
Her eyes narrowed. There was something odd about her that was plucking on Cloud's nerves, not like a SOLDIER's mako but more like the heaviness that clung to Vincent.
"We haven't had anything like that in a while," the bartender finally replied.
"Why not?"
But she was already turning away and heading back towards the counter, dismissing him as coolly as a military officer. "Go home, boy."
"Please," he said, following her. "Please. I need your help."
She paused by the counter, glancing at him over her shoulder. "I told you, we don't have anything like that anymore."
"The people and the Wutaian rebels are too busy resenting each other to actually do anything," Cloud blurted, "but AVALANCHE was founded by people from all over. AVALANCHE could fix that.
"You want to turn the conflict with ShinRa into a racial war?" she asked mildly.
"No, I want to see AVALANCHE give the Wutaians and the Midgar people a reason to work together against ShinRa."
She turned to face him more fully. "AVALANCHE doesn't exist anymore. There's no one left to fight. People died, the reactors still stand. The Turks…" She stopped. Cloud tilted his head, wondering what the Turks had done to successfully break up the first incarnation of AVALANCHE. He hadn't bothered finding out much about the organization's history when he'd been hired on by Barret, and he hadn't inherited many of Zack's memories about it.
The woman seemed to mentally shake herself and stared at him impassively. "Why do you care about this?"
"I'm…afraid for the Planet," he said carefully.
"Bullshit. Get out."
"I'm not lying."
"No, all ShinRa cadets are secretly concerned for the life of the Planet," she deadpanned.
Cloud briefly closed his eyes. This would all be so much easier if he could just track down the Black Materia and blow the hell out of ShinRa and its reactors, or march into the president's office and run him through with the Masamune.
"Do you know the work that's being done in Cosmo Canyon?" he asked with a sudden burst of inspiration. Suspicion pinched her lips as she nodded slowly. "A researcher from there came to my village because we have a lot of mako pools. He told me about what was happening to the Planet because of the reactors. I didn't really believe him at first, but after I joined the ShinRa army, I started thinking he was right. Why else would we be sent out to kill all these monsters that didn't even exist even a few years ago?"
"Even if you're telling the truth," she said tonelessly, which he was, if joining AVALANCHE was like joining the ShinRa military and one took 'researcher' to mean Bugenhagen, "that doesn't change the facts. AVALANCHE fell apart about two years ago when its leader tried to destroy mankind so that the Planet would no longer face that threat. The Turks were the one to stop him. Certain benefactors decided that they couldn't afford to fund an operation so unstable, so AVALANCHE was forced to disband before more permanent damage could be done."
Cloud inhaled sharply and wondered how the hell he hadn't known that, unless the Turks had interfered quickly enough that the Planet hadn't been particularly threatened. Certain benefactors? he wondered.
The bartender continued in a distant voice, "This conflict isn't as black-and-white as you would make it, kid. It's not just ShinRa versus the Planet. It's also quality of life versus quality of integrity, people who want to fight for their ideals and those who just want to feed their families. Even if you brought down ShinRa, what then? It's the largest single employer in the world and produces the most reliable and affordable source of energy to heat our homes. It doesn't matter if people like ShinRa or not, they're not going to sacrifice their jobs and lifestyles for some unknown future."
"If the Planet dies, then they won't have to worry about that anyway," he pointed out, but she simply shrugged.
"Would it better to live a shorter life with a greater quality of life, or a longer one in struggle and unhappiness?"
"This isn't like that at all," Cloud said flatly. All he could think about was the Plague that was Jenova's legacy, spreading through the world like a black fungus that turned food into poison and the dead into mindless, savage caricatures of life. "ShinRa isn't a disease. The real question is whether people will be happy living shorter lives in safety or potentially longer ones in freedom. If they stick with safety, then the Planet's going to end that much sooner."
The lean muscle in her forearms flexed smoothly under her skin as she moved the dishrag between her hands. "There's nothing I can do," she finally said, and turned away. "If you want answers, go talk to Rufus ShinRa."
What?
"And who should I say referred me?" he demanded to her disappearing back.
"Elfé."
He left the bar and stood on the street, people pushing past him on all sides. It was almost enough to make someone an atheist, Cloud thought cynically, hands in his pockets as he stared down the crowded street. For a moment he craved a cigarette, one of the ones that Cid had chain-smoked and Cloud had tried once or twice out of curiosity, just to give his hands something to do.
He should probably figure out what to do now. He could go back to the bar and keep uselessly begging Elfé for help. He could track down other former members of AVALANCHE and try his sob-story on them. He could hope and pray that Vincent would be getting somewhere with the Wutai rebels. He could simply lie down and die and let everyone else deal with the consequences of their collective actions because fuck if he hadn't been near the end of his rope for years now. Except he couldn't, because then Sephiroth, Aeris, and Zack would all die. It would be so easy to hate them.
"Shit," he muttered.
It was late afternoon by the time Cloud climbed to the top of an abandoned half-constructed building, high and close enough to the edge of the sector for natural light to break under the shadow of the Plate. He sat on the middle of a steel girder, legs dangling into empty space two hundred feet above the ground, and leaned into the wind channeled by the curve of the Plate's underside. Harder to hear and feel the Planet that high, supported by little more than a half-foot width of metal and shifting air currents. Just a little closer to freedom.
The pollution in the city made for a stunningly vivid orange-red-purple sunset.
It was well past twilight by the time he finally dropped back down to the street. When he went back to the barracks Elena still wasn't around, so he asked one of his squadmates in the mess hall.
"Hey, Small," he called, ignoring the surprised looks he got. It wasn't like he was that unsocial.
The brawny teen blinked at him a few times. "Yeah?"
"Have you seen Elena?"
The other boys hooted and leered ("What's the matter, Strife, can't keep track of your girlfriend?") while Small flushed. "Haven't seen her since Tokka ran us into the fucking ground."
"Yeah, I think the old bastard misses your pretty face, Strife," snorted another. Joe, maybe? Or John. Something simple. Whatever, Cloud just knew that he was eyeing the chocobo rider division. "He looked pissier than my mum did during menopause."
"Oh gods, thanks for that mental image, asshole," someone groaned.
"Thanks," Cloud said dryly and left his squad to their impromptu mother-insulting competition. After a quick meal of what was supposed to be chicken and rice but looked more like the clotted pale gunk Cid scraped out of the Highwind's engines, he slipped back to the barracks and changed into some gym clothes. With Elena still nowhere to be found, he finally gave up stalling and left for the training rooms.
It was populated but not crowded, just the remains of the pre-dinner rush. Cloud set himself up with the machines, preferring to wait until there were fewer people before taking out one of the practice swords. He was mostly left alone, just another kid with big dreams.
Time passed quickly once he allowed himself to get lost in the repetitive motions, and before long there were only a few people left. Then four, then two, and finally Cloud was alone and free to take down one of the blunt-edged steel swords meant to be used only by more experienced cadets. He swung it in a lazy circle with one hand, making a face at how crap it was and wishing he had Tsurugi.
It was easy to lose track of time, so to speak. Okay, so it wasn't Tsurugi, or even Nailbat, and the steel would do better service as soup cans, but light still sparked off the blade and his fingers still fit the handle like he'd been born with it. There was a fine balance that had to be found between complete control and maximizing momentum which required not thinking about much of anything, particularly everything that could and might be going wrong.
Cloud would've been happy to stay in the gym all night and screw morning drills anyway, but then he brought the sword down in a slashing stroke and it was interrupted by another blade. The sudden movement shocked Cloud into ducking low and whirling around to bring his sword under the guard of the other's, but it was blocked once more, forcing him to take a defensive step back.
"…Sephiroth?"
The general stood tall and expressionless above him, the Masamune bare in his hand, and Cloud felt his heart stop.
…
It was one of those moments some people encountered in their lives in which the principles that provided the foundation for their whole understanding of the universe were suddenly popped like balloons, leaving them scrambling to hold on to empty air and loose strings. Sephiroth had been reasonably certain that there wasn't much left that could faze him, but the possibility of this moment hadn't really prepared him for the reality of it.
Hair as yellow and wild as a chocobo's crest, eyes mako-blue-bright; the only difference Sephiroth could see between this cadet and the man from his memory was age. This was a physical, flesh-and-blood existence, no blurring around the edges or suggestion of Lifestream. No shadow of pale wings. Sephiroth's name, spoken in a voice that was younger and higher, but still recognizable.
"Isn't it odd, Private Strife," he said softly, "that you're not around when you're wanted, but when you're unexpected?"
He watched the subtle barb hit home through a slight jerk in the boy's thin shoulders, but instead of getting angry or flinching away, Strife just lowered the practice weapon until its point rested on the ground.
"I try to be where I'm needed," he replied, just as quietly.
"Did it never occur to you that certain individuals might need you elsewhere?"
"Sephiroth, I – "
"I received a report about your performance on your first mission," Sephiroth continued, beginning to pace in a slow circle just to be moving. Strife's own body didn't move, just his eyes as he followed Sephiroth's path. "Not only did you act well above the expectations of myself and Commander Gysahl, but you managed to get Generals Hewley and Rhapsodos to stop and think. On the other hand, you know things that should only be known to a very select few individuals. One might wonder how that knowledge could've been used earlier, before this whole debacle."
Cloud, for his part, felt those words inflame the years-old self-doubt, am I doing this right, what if I fuck up, questions without answers that vacillated wildly between desperation and anger and despair. He whipped around on his heel with a sharp, "I'm doing this for you!
"…I'm doing this for you," he repeated quietly, holding Sephiroth's gaze and refusing to look away again. "You…and Zack. And Aeris. No one else. The rest of the Planet could burn and I wouldn't care except that the three of you happen to live on it," and what kind of person did it make him when he actually meant that kind of selfishness?
"Then abandoning children in the hands of madmen is now the mark of a hero."
Cloud flinched, felt the words like Hojo's needles under his flesh piercing veins and thoughts and hope. The mantras he'd used to keep himself sane these last fourteen years, do it right and it won't happen again, won't see Aeris' blood on your hands, won't watch Zack die to save your worthless ass, won't watch Denzel get ripped apart by Plague-infected warps – just do it right and then you can rest, no one else can ask anything else of you. Do it right – they started falling apart and Cloud stared at Sephiroth, felt something already tenuous inside of him start to unravel. Sephiroth lifted a hand to his temple, and the familiarity of the movement made Cloud automatically step forward, reach out, and the moment his hand touched the general's arm the world went
green as mako, opaque, thick in his lungs
red blood of genocide streaking the masamune, his leather, his skin
blackwhite monochrome monotony, rather amusing how spending too much time in the lab could make everything else as stark and lifeless
yellowblue suninthesky, but even angels leave and
he couldn't hear motherangeljenovacloud anymore
and it took an almighty wrench of will and physical strength to tear his hand away from Sephiroth, who had fallen to one knee. Both of them were panting, Sephiroth's eyes squeezed shut in pain, Cloud frozen with horror. The urge for contact, to consume, made Cloud choke on bile and holy shit it can't be Reunion, it can't, I don't have Jenova inside me anymore, it can't be, it can't.
When Sephiroth finally lifted his head, he looked utterly lost. Cloud didn't dare to look closer, knew that if he did he'd hear why do you keep pretending to be human, Cloud, my puppet, such a good boy.
"Cloud?"
When the Planet had been remaking him there'd been a time, an instant or an eternity, he didn't know, but there'd been a time when he couldn't remember what it meant to speak and make meaningful sentences out of so many possible sounds. Cloud swallowed past the bile in his throat, had to do it a second time before he was able to find words. "I – I don't. I'm sorry," he managed. "I should. I should stay away, this isn't. Isn't."
Stopped. Couldn't find the right sounds.
"No, wait," Sephiroth started, but Cloud was already half-running to the door, leaving the useless sword behind.