A\N: This is like 90% dialogue.

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THE STARS WE DREAMED OF

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11

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It's dark when Cloud wakes up. The neon lights flash through the open blinds, drawing kaleidoscopic shapes over the walls. He doesn't know where he is, his surroundings unfamiliar. It's—an office? He sits up with difficulty; his body feels raw, his movements sluggish. His mind is incoherent—thoughts are jumbled and scattered, and nothing makes sense. Where the fuck is he? How did he even get in this state?

A bright slash of pink light drifts over him, blinding him. When he opens his eyes, he notices someone across from him. Bathed in rose-coloured brightness, a girl sits huddled in an armchair. He takes her in—the jacket swallowing her, the hair brushing her shoulders, the boots he's seen before. He knows her. It's Tifa, and he realizes he already knew she was here as words echo faintly in his ears, the sole remnants of a memory that makes his heart race.

Cloud, listen to us. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Hey. Hey, lay down, okay?

He flinches.

It comes back to him—piece by piece at first, then all at once. The fountain, the crowd, the gunshot, the garage. Cid, dragging him here; Tifa, trying to get him to calm down; a short girl, standing in the corner.

The Captain, pulling the trigger and walking away. Aerith, collapsing and never getting up.

His new reality hits him hard. Cloud's chest cave in from his sharp intake of breath. The confusion he woke up to spirals into disorder, and the pathetic restrain he had over his emotions vanishes. He jumps to his feet clumsily, afraid of what's coming.

But nothing happens. No burst of fire, no rise in the temperature. His erratic breathing is the only indication of his agitation.

Someone gave him mako. He brings his hand to the hidden pocket in his jacket—the bottle is still there. That's when he becomes aware one of his sleeves is rolled up above his elbow.

His eyes seek Tifa. She's still sleeping, still curled up around herself in her seat. It has to be her since Cid doesn't know—or at least didn't before today. There's no way to tell if he does now, and Cloud doesn't want to be around to find out. He unrolls the sleeve of his jacket, and spots the dried blood caking his hand. He glances away.

There's a strange tranquility taking over him as he leaves the room. It's like his mind is listing facts, hurtful blows he accepts one by one. He doesn't linger on them, doesn't take the time to digest them. Instead, he lets them lodge themselves within him until they are all he sees.

Aerith is gone. Zack and the Fairs are dead. He's wanted. He has no home. He's alone.

The thoughts morph as he navigates the poorly lit garage in search of the exit. They grow and grow and take so much space in his mind. They ring in his ears.

The Captain murdered Aerith. Shinra hunted down the Fairs. Shinra destroyed his life. He's got nothing and no one to lose.

An indistinct memory washes over him, more of a feeling than an image. He remembers his rage when his ability came to him—remembers wanting to take down Shinra and burn down Midgard. The memory becomes alive and eats him whole.

He can take down the Captain.

And he will. It'll be the last thing he'll ever do. Doesn't matter—he wants nothing else but watch the man burn.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Cid's voice is loud in the darkness; his footsteps resonate as he comes closer. Soon after, the lights turn on, dazzling Cloud. He's in a small kitchen, more of a break room for employees; he was about to trip on a pushed back chair. When his eyes have adjusted, he looks at Cid. The man's seen better days—his hair is a mess and his clothes are rumpled, like he'd been sleeping.

Cid grabs the ashtray on the counter and places it on the table as he sits down. He lights a cigarette.

"So?"

Cloud doesn't want to reply since the answer is painful, and still—still he owes Cid. He figures courtesy is the least he can do.

"Nowhere," he says.

Cid grunts. "Drop the fucking attitude, kid. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Cloud stays silent, unsure of what he should say; he has no other answer for Cid. The pause grows until Cid kicks out a chair from under the table.

"Sit," he orders.

Wary, Cloud does so. Cid leans forward.

"Listen, kid. What happened earlier—"

"I don't want to talk about that," Cloud snaps.

Cid's retort is immediate. "Did I say 'talk'? I told you to listen."

Cloud makes a move to get up, already fed up.

"Sit your ass down," Cid's voice raises into a shout. "Do you know what I'm risking right now?" When his question is met with silence, he carries on, softer. "Do you, kid?"

Cloud freezes; he can't tell how he feels right now. Maybe ashamed at his own attitude, maybe just tired, maybe vexed at Cid's reaction. His next words come out wrong.

"I didn't ask you to do any of this."

"Fucking hell," Cid whispers, rubbing a hand over his face. "All right, you're gonna shut the fuck up and hear me out. No, shut up, okay?" He adds as Cloud opens his mouth. He takes a moment to put out his cigarette, to regain his composure. "I'm not too sure what went down today, but I know what you want to do, kid. Don't throw your life away. Sephiroth isn't worth it."

"Sephiroth?" Cloud repeats in a whisper. His hands clench into fists, and he hides them under the table.

Cid sighs. "Captain Sephiroth. He's the one who…" He visibly hesitates. "The one you're after. He's been around for a few years now."

"Who says I'm after him?"

"Don't lie, kid. I know those eyes."

"You barely know me, Cid."

"Yeah?" Cid throws him a frustrated glare. "Then tell me you weren't gonna walk out to hunt that man down."

Cloud scoffs. "I don't have to justify myself to you."

"All right, don't. Don't. The door's that way." Cid raises his hands in surrender.

Unsure of his next move, Cloud stays put. When Cid says nothing else, he gets annoyed, and stands up. He's almost to the door when Cid speaks up again.

"You know, I used to work for Shinra."

Cloud tenses without meaning to. If he notices, Cid doesn't care; the smell of smoke fills the air.

"I was part of Engineering. It was all good until they wanted to assign me to another division. Weapons Development. I was lucky—they gave me the choice."

He waits, and Cloud guesses he's expecting him to say something, to react. With a sense of defeat, he turns sideways until Cid is visible.

"And you said no?"

"I said yes." Cid shrugs. "Pay was better; benefits, too. Hours, not so much, but I could deal with that." He taps his cigarette over the ashtray. "It was good, for a while." His eyes drift away as he goes on. "Then that dick Rufus Shinra showed up. He wasn't President, then; his father was. The kid was 24 or something like that. Smart as hell. He kept talking about Carriers and how they could make them useful to Shinra."

Cloud lets the words sink in, his attention revived. "You mean—human weapons?"

"Kinda like that." Cid sighs again. "They brought in a kid one day. Seventeen. We kept him sedated so he couldn't do anything. Ran all sort of tests on him. We tried to replicate his ability into a weapon. One day, Rufus showed up. He was angry at the lack of results. Said we had to start over with another ability."

"They got another Carrier?"

"Yeah. Got rid of the first one. Over and over. They put poison in their food. Less messy this way."

"You knew all this?" Cloud asks even though he doesn't want to hear the answer. Fuck, he wishes he had known none of this.

Cid takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

"And what did you do?"

"And—nothing. At first, I did nothing. I didn't want to be part of this, but it was like I had no choice, not anymore. I didn't believe in the shit we were trying to do." He drops his forgotten cigarette in the ashtray. "Anyway, like Tifa says, I ran my mouth. Asked too many questions, made some unwanted comments. Shinra fired me and made it impossible for me to find a job as an engineer anywhere else."

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Cloud goes back to his discarded seat. His head is spinning from everything that happened today, from everything he got told right now.

"Did you try to help?" He asks—it's the one question he needs an answer to. "Did you ever try to help them?"

When Cid looks him in the eye, he gets hopeful.

"No," Cid replies, all honesty. "They would have killed me."

A vague wave of disappointment crashes through Cloud; it's not as intense as he would have thought. Then again, he's never expected much of non-Carriers. They could never understand.

"What's the point in telling me all this?"

"Because now I have the strength to help." Cid's eyes gleam. "Let me help you, kid. You have nowhere to go? Stay here."

Cloud swallows with difficulty.

"Harbouring Carriers is a death sentence."

But Cid only holds his stare, unwavering.

Shaking his head, Cloud says, "My mind's made up. I'm going after the Captain."

"You still need a place to stay."

Cloud is silent for a moment. The noise of the city is muted, but ever present, a reminder of what's waiting for him out there. "You won't try to change my mind?"

At this, Cid bursts into loud laughter. "I will fucking nag you to hell, kid. Be ready."

The sound of a door closing alerts them to Tifa's impending presence. Soon, she appears in the doorframe.

"Hi," she says.

Her eyes stop on Cloud. For a second, he lets himself stare back. He can see how weary she is; it shows in her expression, in the drop of her shoulders. He blinks and looks away.

"You hungry?" Cid asks. "You've barely eaten anything since you got here."

Tifa makes her way to the table and sits down. "Not really. I'm just—" Her voice trails off.

"Tired?"

She sends a stifled smile in Cid's direction. "You could say that."

Cid still gets up. "You need to eat."

"Cid—"

"Shut up, kid. I'm sure we've got something edible in there."

As he grumbles and rummages through the cupboards, Tifa turns to Cloud.

"How are you feeling?"

He doesn't have an answer—doesn't want to answer, really. A lie dances on the tip of his tongue, but he suppresses the urge. Instead, he stays silent, and Tifa ends up diverting her attention to Cid as he drops a box of unopened cookies in front of her.

"Thanks." The way she says it reeks of defeat and exhaustion; Cloud thinks he might be the cause of some of it. In normal circumstances, he would hate it.

He's being cold, he realizes. And he can't help it. There's something about Tifa that brings out an intensity in the way he feels. He can't allow that to take over him right now, he just can't.

"So what you gonna do?"

It takes Cloud a second to understand the question isn't aimed at him but at Tifa. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little intrigued.

Tifa grabs a cookie from the plastic tray. Once she's done with it, she speaks. "I'm not sure yet." A sideway glance thrown Cloud's way. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"What happened?" The words are out his mouth before he can swallow them.

Her reaction isn't one he would have expected. Tifa looks down as she crosses her arm over the table; she's hunching forward, and he can't help but think she seems guilty.

She runs a hand through her hair. "I got into trouble."

By Cid's scowl, Cloud can guess her answer isn't entirely truthful. When she doesn't elaborate, Cid takes it upon himself.

"She got arrested."

"Cid—" Tifa hisses.

"For being—" Cloud stops himself, glances at Cid. The man already knows about him, but maybe not about Tifa.

"Because she's a Carrier?" Cid snorts. "No, kid. Because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Cloud notices the tension leave Tifa's shoulders. She's still hiding something.

"They let you out?" He asks, curious. Something's not adding up. Why would she be so defensive if being unlucky was all there was to it?

He sees the moment she makes up her mind. She doesn't reply at first, then she plays with her hair again, only to inhale deeply.

"I escaped," she says.

"From the Sector jail? How?"

Cid clears his throat but says nothing.

Tifa sighs, and she won't meet his eyes. "From the prisoner transport."

Cloud frowns. "The prisone—"

The pieces fall into place.

Tifa was at the PDC. She saw what happened. He senses his breathing quicken. He's still missing something in all this. Why would she look so fucking sorry—and goddamn it, he knows the answer.

"You knew—" He can barely form the words, even less so her name.

"Not really," Tifa admits. "But she was my cellmate for a night."

"And you escaped?" He whispers because otherwise he feels like he might shout.

Tifa nods.

The anger infiltrating him is irrational. He can tell. There's no real reason to be mad at Tifa; she did nothing wrong. But he knows how she escaped; she ran, and she ran so fast no one could catch her. The idea she could have helped Aerith—it swamps his mind. Don't, he tells himself, don't blame her for this; she doesn't deserve it. She didn't pull the trigger. The Captain did. She wasn't the one who put Aerith in danger. He did.

"Kid," Cid says. "Snap out of it."

Cloud ignores him. He's still watching Tifa, who raises her gaze to meet his. And fuck, he can see how much she's already torturing herself over this.

"Cloud—" That's all she says, so gently, and he senses his emotions skidding down a dangerous slope.

He nods and tears his eyes away. Now's not the time. Tifa understands and switches topic after a long pause.

He doesn't listen after that, not really. Tifa and Cid talk something trivial he doesn't care about. Fragments of conversation threaten to grab his attention; he dismisses them. He's not sure why he's still here listening, but he stays, not willing to be left alone. Maybe it's childish of him, but he doesn't want to sit in the dark and remember. The muted discussion provides him with background noise, just enough to distract him.

Cid gets to his feet after a while, and Cloud realizes they've been sitting for over an hour.

"I'm going back to sleep." Cid ruffles Cloud's hair as he walks out of the room. "See ya."

"Night," Tifa calls out; she makes no move to follow.

Anxiety overruns Cloud all of the sudden, and it only grows when she twists to face him.

"Do you—" She begins, but he cuts her off.

"I don't feel like talking," he mumbles.

"Oh." Tifa blinks. The hand that had been reaching for him halts. "Okay. Then, I'll just—" She doesn't finish her sentence. Instead, she pushes her chair back.

"Don't," Cloud says abruptly. He sighs as he takes in her confusion. "Sorry. Don't go." He gulps his feelings down. "Please."

"All right." He sees her face change as she understands what he means. "We don't have to talk," she adds, all softness.

He nods again.

"But can we go back to the office?" She tries to smile but it falls short. "This chair is uncomfortable."

Cloud trails behind her as she leads the way. Once in the room, his insides contort as he recalls his panic attack.

"You can take the couch," he tells her as he drops into the armchair.

Tifa doesn't turn on the lights; she only falls backwards on the old sofa. He can make out the outline of her body as she gets comfortable. As promised, she says nothing, and he's thankful for it.

It's not that long until tiredness takes a hold of him. His head drops forward, jerking him away from slumber. Across the room, Tifa moves around, still awake.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey."

"Thanks for the mako."

Tifa doesn't answer immediately. Then, she says, "I'm sorry I spilled your secret."

"Did you know about Cid?"

"Yeah."

He yawns. "Okay."

Tifa says something else, but he doesn't catch it. "What?"

He hears her take a deep breath. "Goodnight."

"G'night," he mumbles.

Tomorrow, he thinks as he drifts off, tomorrow he'll search for the Captain.

He'll find him. And he'll kill him.

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