DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.
WARNINGS: Violence, Blood (For those of you who are sqeemish yet have a vivid imagination wether you like it or not.)
Chapter Eleven
Guilt
Darkness.
Confusion.
Sorrow.
Loneliness . . . A sense that someone should be with him, but . . . who?
As he drifted closer and closer to the unwanted realities of consciousness, the nightmare replayed through his mind. There were so many things, now that he looked back, that he could have done.
Why didn't I use my sword? Yes, his sword. In his moment of fear, he had forgotten all about the weapon Sephiroth had given him . . . Sephiroth . . .
He felt tears come to his eyes, regret that he hadn't thought quickly enough in his panic to remember his gift. Maybe he could have held his ground against the giant spider long enough to distance himself from the ledge . . . long enough to get closer to Sephiroth. Would he ever see the man again? After the fall . . .
The fall . . . How did I survive?
He opened his eyes . . . only to find that darkness ruled the territory beyond his eyelids as well. Where was he? Probably lying somewhere at the bottom of the hollow. He sat up slowly as his mako-enhanced vision began to adjust to the overpowering blackness surrounding him. How, he didn't know, as there didn't seem to be any light for his eyes to absorb. His muscles were sore. How long had he been lying here? He strained his ears for any sound whatsoever. Wind . . . steadily blowing through his black environment . . . and . . . dripping water?
Using what little vision he had in the pitch blackness, he took in his bleak surroundings. Rocks . . . nothing but cold, hard rocks, glistening with the moisture from some unseen spring, but there wasn't a plant in sight. He appeared to be sitting atop a particularly large, round boulder . . . an incredibly . . . soft? . . . boulder? Something wasn't right. He pressed his hand to the surface . . . and froze, his fingers traveling over hundreds of coarse, dark hairs. The wind wasn't wind at all, but the sound of massive lungs exhaling carbon dioxide. He had landed on some sort of sleeping creature!
Well, at least it broke my fall. It's a miracle the rocks didn't crush me.
Whatever breathed beneath him had obviously saved his life with its precarious location, but was it in itself a threat? He didn't want to find out. He inched his way to the edge of the beast's bulbous body, and slid down onto what he prayed wasn't another section of its anatomy . . . the darkness still hadn't revealed all of its secrets to his sight. He placed his hand down to brace himself for the last jump to what he presumed was the ground, but stopped short when the object he had placed his hand on moved, producing a slimy sensation beneath his fingertips. His breath shook from the state of his nerves, but he stopped breathing altogether when an unwelcome familiar sound reached his ears. The foreboding clicking of . . . fangs . . . spider fangs!
Not only had he survived the fall, but so had the great, green-striped arachnid. Had he had the time to consider it, Cloud would have taken some appreciation in the irony of his situation, being saved by a creature who had just tried to kill him and still, by all means, could, but . . . the creature could still kill him! His heart leaped into his throat as the beast came to life with mammoth, swaying movements. Cloud clung to what he had subtracted to be the insect's head, where nature had placed its many moist ocular orbs. He ignored the wet sensation at his chest as the beast blinked rapidly, trying to devoid itself of his presence, but Cloud knew the monster couldn't possibly eat him if he remained where he was . . . if he could remain where he was. The beast reared itself and body-slammed the nearest rock wall in an attempt to dislodge him. The dark stones, as Cloud was thankful, didn't crumble one bit, being solidly packed from the weight of the less durable rocks above. Cloud tightened his grip as the spider shook itself like a wet dog, but almost lost his hold anyways. He would have if the beast hadn't suddenly come to a stop. He stared, petrified, into its many eyes, each one reflecting his pale identity.
All was silent, except the sound, and feel, of his thudding heart high in his chest. He was positive the spider could feel it too. What was the spider doing? Out of curiosity and dread, he released one hand from its spiny hold and peered over his shoulder. The hungry clicking had started up again, and Cloud almost panicked when he spotted one of the creature's jointed legs stalking in his direction. The spider was going to simply pluck him off like a parasite and, most likely, kill him. Thinking fast, Cloud rolled from the beast's head.
As soon as his feet hit the ground, he bolted in the only direction available, straight ahead, which took him deeper into the uncharted darkness. He couldn't hear the spider following behind him, but he knew it was there. He knew it would give chase, and he dared not chance a glance over his shoulder to prove himself wrong. He stumbled through the black, slippery rocks like a blinded mouse until, by chance, he spotted a break in the rocks that appeared darker than the rest. A cave? He prayed his mind hadn't chosen now of all times to play tricks on him.
He heard an angered screech and the smashing of stone and dove for protection just as the spider thrust itself in his direction, fangs flexing wide as it prepared to strike. Cloud frantically rolled into the stone shelter, his head smashing against the rocky entrance with force. Abiding the blast of pain in his skull, he scrambled away from the prodding fangs that had followed him into his sanctuary. They opened wide and snapped closed meer inches from his foot. He tried to retreat further into the darkness, further away from the predator, but found, to his dismay, that he had no room to back up. The indentation in the rocks was barely large enough to accommodate his slight body.
Maybe I should just hang tight for now and see if the bastard will tire of trying to reach me . . . But what if it figures out it can fit its legs in here and pull me out?
Cloud's thoughts raced just as they had the time when the mako-enhanced pit bull had tackled him to the ground . . . that seemed so long ago. Then he'd had a dagger in his boot. Now I have something better. The sword Sephiroth had given him! He tried in vain to manouevre himself into a position that would allow him enough room to draw the weapon, but he was blessed with no such luck. The only way he could get the sword from his belt was to stretch himself out to full length, which would place him within range of the spider's salivating fangs.
So many wonderful choices . . .
Either he waited until the monster found another way to pry him from his hiding place, or he risked losing his legs. Maybe . . . if he could find something to lodge in between the arachnid's fangs long enough to grant him time to free his sword of its sheath. His hands traveled over the cold, stone floor . . . nothing.
Maybe . . .
He pressed his hands to the walls, still nothing. Then the ceiling . . . just as he was about to give up his search, his fingers groped over a loose stone overhead. Now he had only to work it loose. Being careful not to extend his legs beyond safety, he set to the task of freeing the stone from its confines. Finally, after chaffing up what he was sure to be a sizeable blister, he held his prize in his hands. Just a plain, black stone like any other stone in this Gaia forsaken hell, but this stone was different. This stone, barely the size of a grapefruit, would help save his life.
With a smirk of triumph, he thrust the stone into the spider's grasp.
Chew on that, fucker!
The monster withdrew its pinchers from the cave with a damning shriek. It would be back as soon as it had devoid itself of the stone. Cloud worked frantically, unsnapping the straps holding the blade to his side. Why did there have to be so many? After working his way through three belts, he drew his sword with the victorious sound of metal sliding against boiled leather.
As he had predicted, the spider returned to its foul exploits, fangs just as vigilant as ever. Grunting from the effort, he drove his weapon deep into the beast's mouth and thrust upward, splitting the arachnid's upper jaw in two oozing halves. Such a cry of agony erupted from the monster that Cloud was forced to cover his ears. When the scream had died down to a loose pattern of pained yelps, Cloud uncovered his ears and listened in relief as the spider stumbled away rather than coming back for more as he had expected.
He won't be able to eat anything for a while. Maybe it will starve to death. He was panting heavily.
His head pounded along with the beat of his frantic heart, each pulse sending an almost unbearable throb throughout his temple. He lay down, groaning in pain. After regaining some semblance of a normal heart rate, he removed his jacket, sweater and undershirt, the latter of which he used to dampen the free flow of blood streaming from his skull. Gaia, it hurt. Even more so than the burns he ventured to think. He cleaned his precious sword against the hem of his pants. He then folded up the fleece sweater, intending to use it as a pillow. He didn't even bother putting the jacket back on. Instead, he threw it over himself like a blanket. There was no use leaving his safety for now . . . at least not until his body had recovered from its build-up of aches and pains. Between the previous ambush high up on the ledge miles above, his fall, and the most recent attack, he felt like shit. He only hoped he wouldn't drift into a coma in his sleep. His head hurt pretty badly. As unconsciousness claimed him, his last thoughts were of Sephiroth. Where was he? Was he hurt too? And what about Zack? Was he alive? Would he ever see either of them again? Would he ever again feel the warmth of Sephiroth lying next him? He hoped so . . . his hands sought out Sephiroth's gift and he clung to it in his sleep.
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If Sephiroth thought traveling on a chocobo through two feet of snow was time-consuming, then he had obviously never tried traveling down a steep mountain ridge through three feet of snow on foot. He now wished he had tethered the birds tighter, but, then again, if he had they may have become a spider's meal so . . . damned if he did, damned if he didn't. The terrain here was anything but hospitable. He had been descending down into the hollow for hours, judging by the sun's position. The sun . . . that which was now barely visible over the steep ledge of the drop. The crumbly sandy-colored rocks and ledges had begun to give way to a more solid stone the color of polished coal. He imagined that, should anyone land on such volatile ground after falling over a mile . . . surely they would have either been smashed to pieces by the impact, or diced to pieces by the black stone's naturally-formed, blade-like edges. All logic said neither Cloud, nor Zack, could possibly have survived the long fall.
He clenched his eyes in guilt, almost unable to contain his overwhelming self-loathing. If only he had kept a closer eye on the blond. If only he had noticed Cloud's predicament a second sooner. A second. One minuscule, meaningless unit in time had made all the difference in determining Cloud's fate. If he had reached Cloud only one second sooner . . . the teenager would be safe by his side right now, not somewhere alone at the bottom of a black abyss. He had been so close, his hand mere centimeters away. Even if Cloud had somehow miraculously survived the drop . . . only ThePlanet knew what kind of bloodthirsty monsters thrived down there.
He was growing exhausted. Yes, this barren environment was harsh enough to tire even the Great General Sephiroth. After Cloud had been lost over the ledge, the giant spider had gotten in a blow of its own during his moment of overwhelming, dumbstruck grief, lashing one of its massive, barbed forelegs across his back like a serrated whip. The wounds were deep, and the blood was horrible, as was the seering pain, but he couldn't dress them himself due to their unsavory location. Not only that, but now he would be in need of a new leather coat. His arms and shoulders had grown stiff not only from the deep gashes along his back, but also from latching on to the cliff face so he wouldn't slip over the narrow ledge. He dared not look down because, when he did, he found himself, once again, reverting to the logic that nobody could have lived through so far a fall. Not Cloud, not Zack, Hell, he himself wouldn't have made it.
. . . but he had to make sure. He could never forgive himself if either of his friends was lying somewhere down in the darkness broken and battered . . . dying a slow, drown-out death. He had to know. He needed proof. If one of them had survived, if they both had survived, he could make up for his carelessness and save them. How could he have been so ignorant of the occurrances around him earlier? He wasn't even sure Zack had gone over the edge at all. For all he knew, his dark-haired friend could have been devoured. Then he had been too engrossed by his fight with the third spider that he hadn't even noticed that Cloud was in danger . . . fatal danger. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't let anything happen to Cloud?!
I failed him . . . miserably . . . He fought down another wave of sorrow. The brand which, before recently, had been so foreign to his heart. The intense sensation was heavily laced with anger. The only other occasions he had experienced it before now were when Cloud had come clean about his past, when he had discovered Tseng's unsavory intentions for the blond, and at night when he reflected on the abuse he knew Cloud must have been through both before and during his time in the orphanage.
He sighed. How could he possibly live with himself? Cloud had trusted him with his life . . . and he had been the one to suggest that they follow Tseng into Owl's Eyes Hollow. This entire journey was all his fault . . . the deaths of his friend and . . . dare he think it . . . the one he loved were all his fault.
No, they're still alive. I know it . . . they have to be . . . Or maybe it was just his desperate wishful thinking . . .
He gritted his teeth as a shock of pain jolted through his upper back. This was going to be a long night. He made his way, inch by painful inch, further down into oblivion. His strength threatened to abandon him, but, each time, he had only to think of Cloud and Zack to force himself to continue. Maybe, if the two were indeed alive, perhaps they had found one another. He knew that wasn't altogether unlikely, no more unlikely than their survival anyways.
The further he lowered himself into the Hollow, the darker it became, and it certainly didn't help that the sun had left the sky hours ago only to be replaced by a crescent moon which put off very little luminescence. He looked down, straining his enhanced vision, dreading the memory of Cloud slipping over the ledge, but, thankfully, was not plagued with it this time. Instead, a brief flash of joy flitted through his chest at the sight of solid earth less than twenty feet below. He scrambled to reach the Hollow's bottom and found he couldn't wait quite long enough, jumping the last few yards or so.
He landed with the thud of heavy boots and a crumple of his leather coat, which he couldn't wait to get off. It was cold down here, he wouldn't deny it, but he had worked up a hell of a sweat. He took in his surroundings, his lips forming into a slight frown. There was no vegetation in sight, nothing aside from the cold, hard stone like that which he had been clinging to for the majority of the day. That meant the landings of his friends couldn't have been favorable. Once again, logic threatened to dampen his spirits, but he ignored his mind and chose to follow his heart instead. Now all he had to do was to estimate where he believed Cloud had fallen and pray he found what he was hoping for.
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Cloud woke with a start, his heart racing. He had suffered a nightmare that Sephiroth had been decapitated by the giant spider after he had fallen from the ledge. That wasn't true. It couldn't be true. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps.
But what if . . . ?
It's not! The dream meant nothing, his conscience firmly asserted, but he couldn't help but worry. Was Sephiroth alright?
He sat up, careful not to bump his already bleeding skull on the stones above his head. He shivered from the surrounding cold, amplified by the properties of the stoic granite around him. Wiping his eyes, his mind fumbled for what he should do next. He should probably go look for Sephiroth, but what if the spider returned? Or what if Sephiroth came here looking for him? His thought process was interrupted by an ache grumbling from his stomach. His body wanted breakfast . . . but there obviously was none.
He eventually decided it would be safe to venture a small distance from his shelter, just to get his bearings in the sunlight . . . the sun . . . what time was it? Something had been nagging him ever since he'd woken, now he knew what that something was. It was still dark. Nowhere near as dark as the night before, but still dark enough to obstruct his vision. Thanks to the mako, he could see most of his surroundings, though he still couldn't make out the identity of a shadow here and there.
He looked to the ledges high above. The gray sky snaked above him like a stream. Yes, it /was/ daylight. The sun just didn't have the strength to reach quite far enough to illuminate the hollow's damp lower regions. With a sigh, Cloud sat himself upon the nearest rock, which he didn't have to genuinely /search/ for, considering there were naught in the barren place /but/ rocks. He wiped his brow and inspected his hand, which bore evidence of both dry and fresh blood. He supposed he had better begin his day by cleaning his newly acquired laceration.
He propped his chin in his hands as he worried his bottom lip, at a loss for available resources. He theorized that he could use his undershirt, but then he would be ever colder.
. . . but I still have my jacket in the cave . . .
Either way, he knew he couldn't meander about at the bottom of a deep gorge with a freely bleeding wound. What if there were other creatures down here aside from the gargantuan spiders? The smell of fresh blood would certainly have an entire managerie of carnivorous beasts on his trail. Making up his mind, he removed his upper-body clothing down to his undershirt and proceeded to tear the thin material into one long strip, a task which demanded concentrative ingenuity. His bare skin shivered its displeasure, demanding the redemption of its exceedingly desired protection.
After he had created a makeshift bandage, he drooped his arms to his sides in frusteration. To properly divest his wound of filth, he would require the use of water. It irked him to be aware of the dampness all around him while there was no source of the liquid available for his own use. Rocks didn't need water! He needed water! After retrieving his jacket and katana from his shelter and restoring his clothing, minus the under shirt which he stuffed into a deep pocket, he set out to find water.
He wandered through the chill, dank shadows, following what he hoped would prove to be the sound of running water rather than lone gusts of wind twisting through the jagged rocks. The cold had truly begun to take its sapping tole on his battered body. He had grown tired, and, even though his fall had been broken by the body of the spider, his muscles and bones still ached from the sheer impact of his landing. He knew he would find several bruises should he decide to take it upon himself to check for them.
He hugged his arms to his chest in a vain attempt at trapping in what little heat his body had managed to produce. His teeth had long since begun to chatter, and powerful tremors wracked their ways to the surface from somewhere deep within the confines of his chest. He was so cold he wondered if his body would be able to continue at his sluggish pace. Blood continued to trickle from his hairline, traveling its way down his face and neck and stopping at his collar where it found itself absorbed by his now-stained clothing. He just could not bring himself to remove his arms from his body long enough to wipe the crimson liquid away.
His breaths panted through his blue lips as his body grew tired. Cloud supposed the cold had begun to do the lethal part of its job description, as he could no longer feel his extremities at all, much less push himself any farther. He tried valiantly. he truly did, forcing his legs to press onward, where to he hadn't a clue. He just knew that he couldn't give in. If he gave up . . . surely he would die here on the icy granite . . . alone. He didn't want to die alone. Sure, he had prepared himself to die when Tseng had tried to incinerate him, but then . . . he hadn't known. He hadn't known about his feelings . . . for Sephiroth. Sure . . . he never expected the man to actually . . . love? him in return, but at least they could be friends. He couldn't be friends with anyone if he froze to death. But he just couldn't go on any longer . . . His shivers had stopped, but only because the cold had chased them away too . . . and he felt so tired.
Gritting his teeth through a weak moan, Cloud dropped to his knees in defeat. His body just wouldn't obey his mind, no matter how loudly he screamed at himself to get up. It was as if his nerves had frozen . . . even though he knew that wasn't possible. Still on his knees, he tried to push himself back up, but only succeeded in stumbling further to find himself lying flat on the chilled stone beneath him. His strength waned with each breath, and his limbs felt like lead. He ordered himself to get up . . . but he just couldn't. This time he couldn't even manage to make himself move.
As he lay there, his eyelids became heavy just as the rest of him had. He lost this battle as well, just as he had with his limbs as his mind hazed over. He fought it, he fought hard, but, in the end, he couldn't stop himself from drifting into oblivion.
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Sephiroth had not stopped to rest once during the freezing night. His body shook from the cold. Not even the thick leather of his coat could keep out the chill. He was surprised no snow had begun to fall, though he had expected that the once-damp stones around him were now slippery with ice. It had been cold last night, but not this much so. He supposed a blizzard had blown in miles above him at ground level.
His wound hadn't stopped bleeding altogether, but he could feel that the amount of wetness on his back had indeed decreased. Wether it was from his body's enhanced healing or from the icy weather,he didn't much care. All he cared about at the moment was finding his friends. Zack could take care of himself out here. He had been trained and prepared for situations like this, but Cloud hadn't. Cloud was virtually defensless in this barren arctic wilderness, aside from the katana he had given him, but the cold couldn't be held at bay by a sword, neither could starvation. He had still been so skinny. Sephiroth wondered if the blond would ever be given a break from life long enough to actually gain enough weight to hide his ribs. They weren't as visible now as when Sephiroth had first layed eyes on him, but they could still be seen when they shouldn't be seen at all.
He was beginning to wish his sword wasn't quite so heavy. The extra length was useful in battle, but, with his wounds and growing fatigue, the added weight had become an acursed burden. He unbuckled it, sheath and all, from his belt and drove in into a crack in the hard surface below, leaning on it to catch his breath. He was so tired, but he couldn't stop searching. Once again, he damned the terrain. The stones renderred tracking madeningly impossible. There were no footprints, no grasses to be trampled, no brambles to catch on to hair or clothing. There was nothing follow . . . nothing to lead him to Cloud. All he had was a vague guess as to where the blond could have landed, nothing more, and to top it off, he had passed his estimation point hours ago.
. . . But, I can't give up. I . . . need to know!
He loosened Masamune with a wrenching motion and forced himself onward. He would not leave this place until he knew for sure . . .
I can't even bring myself to say it! No, he couldn't, but that didn't stop his mind from picturing a small, blond frame lying broken on the cold granite. His heart clenched in something akin to agony. If only he had been paying attention!
As he rounded a broad boulder, his eyes immediately darted towards a yellow beakon.
Cloud!?
In his excitment, he released his hold on his sword and dashed to the blond's side. Kneeling, he stopped himself before he could displace the prone figure into his arms. He dared not move Cloud. What if the fall had . . .
Wait a minute . . .
Cloud lay face down on the slate, icy suface. Surely, after falling from so far a height onto something so solid, such a landing would have . . . Gaia, there should not have been anything left of his friend but a splattered mess. Though he could see coagulated red matted amongst the pale spikes, there clearly was not enough to comply with a scenario such as the latter. Which meant . . .
Maybe he landed in water . . . ? But he'd still have been injured from so high an altitude . . . how . . .?
Sephiroth could rationalize no possible synopsis as to how Cloud had survived his ordeal at all, much less with so few injuries, but that didn't matter. In fact, he barely put any thought into that subject at all. He could always ask Cloud how he had survived later. He gently pressed his fingertips to Cloud's exposed neck, waiting for that reassuriong pulse that he prayed he would feel. There it was, the proof of life. At that moment, he felt as if his own heart would swell out of his chest with relief. All of those gastly images that had been flashing before his mind's eye for the past twelve hours had finally been proven wrong and taken their leave. He had pondered throughout his entire search for the blond how he could possibly have lived with the guilt of his carelessness . . . more accurately, of the results of his carelessness. But now, he could still repent for his negligence. Somehow, he had been given a second chance. Cloud was still alive, injured, but still alive.
Sephiroth rolled the teen onto his back, supporting the bleeding, bandaged head in his hands. Another thing, Cloud had to have been awake some time after his fall, or else the white cloth could not have been there. With a weak smile, he pulled Cloud close and cradelled him there, providing what little heat he could while further examining the limp form. He knew almost immediately what had caused Cloud's collapse . . . the cold. His lips were blue, his skin pallid and cold to the touch, and his breathes came far too slowly for Sephiroth's liking. Sephiroth stood as he shivered himself, lifting Cloud from the icy ground along with him. He had nowhere to go . . . nowhere to get Cloud warm. He wondered if his body heat alone would be enough to reverse the cold's effects on his too-light cargo.
That would depend on how long he's been out . . . fuck . . . He didn't know exactly how long Cloud had been lying there, but he guessed it had been over an hour. He had to find some sort of shelter, get the teen's newest injury cleaned up, and nurse him back to the world of the conscious . . . all before Cloud got even colder and he lost his subject of adoration. No, Sephiroth more than adored Cloud . . . He had admitted it to himself as love, why couldn't he say it?
Because I'm afraid . . .
Afraid of what? . . . It was far too complicated for him to fathom . . . or maybe he just didn't want to make his fears more real by organizing them into words . . .
Calculating his next actions, he shrugged off his torn coat, a trying task while holding someone in your arms, and cloaked it around his unresponsive friend, grunting at the pain caused by his stiffening wound. He didn't even want to dwell on the fact that the dark woolen sweater he'd worn beneath his coat had most likely become cemented to the thickening blood caking on his back. That would come later. Currently, Cloud's needs were more urgent than his own. He could take the pain. He was bigger, and healthier. Cloud had been half-starved in a orphanage for the majority of his life.
Turning back the way he had come, he made his path to Masamune, lying forgotten on the glistening granite. He knelt and latched it to his side with one hand, holding Cloud close with the other. It didn't feel right, being able to support the entirety of someone's weight with one arm, but he was the Great General Sephiroth, and Cloud was. . . well, Cloud.
Then he reeled back in the other direction, the way he had yet to travel. Maybe he could find some sort of shelter if he kept going. If not, he would have to make his way back here . . . the underside of that boulder was beginning to look pretty warm. It would protect them from the wind, if anything, but it wouldn't be warm enough to bring Cloud back.
Being weakened by the cold himself, which had grown even more insufferable due to the current lack of his coat, his progress was slow. He fell to his knees once, the sheath of his sword complaining against the hard ground, but he had managed to jostle Cloud as little as possible, keeping him gripped gently against his chest for warmth. As he knelt there, recovering some semblance of his energy, he looked up to the waining snake of light so far above.
God . . . But, of course, he recieved no answer . . . or did he?
Sephiroth blinked just to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. Nope . . . it was really there, a dark patch among the blackness . . . a cave . . . but it was so high up. He doubted he had the strength left to make such a climb while carrying the blond. The incline . . . there /was/ no incline . . . it would be a vertical ascent . . . straight up . . .
But I have to . . . or there won't be a Cloud anymore.
Now . . . how to do this? He definitely couldn't climb that with one arm. He studied the pale figure in his embrace, again checking for a pulse just to make sure.
It's gotten slower . . . He's growing weaker. With a growl, he clutched the blond closer, as if he could physically hold his life inside the limp body . . . keep it from drifting away.
He lay Cloud back onto the stone and began to rifle through the pack on his belt. He should have some rope somewhere. Finding it, he bent down and began to tie the blond's thin wrists together . . . tightly. He couldn't tie the bonds too loosely. He wouldn't risk it, even if he disliked the idea of putting so much strain on his unconscious friend. "I'm sorry, but I can think of no other way." He apologized aloud, just to reassure himself that Cloud was still there, albeight unresponsive.
Once he was satified that the knots would hold, he placed Cloud's bound hands around his neck, so that the blond's head rested against his chest. Sephiroth was content for the moment just to observe the nest of spikes.
Surely it wouldn't hurt . . . He won't know . . . He pressed his lips lightly to the top of the blond's head, not caring about the flaking blood that had dried there. /
Stay with me . . . You're safe now . . . Just hold on a little longer.
With little more effort than it took to stand alone during his fatigue, Sephiroth pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the ridge face. For a moment, he just stood there, arms' temporarily supporting Cloud's limp body. He just stood there, gaze aimed upwards . . . to his destination. It would be hard, but he had to make it.
With a iron determination that had conquered nations, he pressed onwards, ready to defeat the disconsolate obstacle before him. I will make it. For Cloud!
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Cloud was vaguely aware of the searing warmth that surrounded him. He wanted to know . . . wanted to be able to see its source,but he couldn't open his eyes. It was as if a translucent wall had formed between his mind and body. He could fell, but only just, but he couldn't hear a thing. The gentle heat around him shifted. He was not afraid of it . . . whatever it was. If anything, he was glad of its presence. Otherwise, he would still be completely oblivious. The last thing he remembered was . . . ice. A freezing chill that seeped into his skin and down to his very core.
Am . . . I dead? Was the comfort around him the lifestream? Had he made it to the Promised Land despite what he had done to Matthew?
He felt a biting pain in his wrists now. No, he could'nt be dead. The afterlife was'nt supposed to consist of any pain . . . unless . . . maybe he hadn't been forgiven for Matthew's death . . . ?
The warmth pressed against his front, and he tried to touch it, reach out and grasp that benevolent presence. He yearned to know what it was, but he couldn't lift his arms.
So . . . heavy . . .
The heat surrounded him now. It had ceased its movements. Before Cloud even had time to formulate any scenarios as to what the presence was doing, he felt an even hotter sensation press lightly into his hair. When it pulled away, it left behind a cool tingling sensation.
What . . .?
Suddenly, the haze in Cloud's mind grew even thinker. Even the surrounding blackness was beginning to fade . . . and the heat . . . he was growing numb. He wanted to hold on to the warmth . . . the feeling of being safe, and . . . Had that been a kiss? He tried to force passed the walls, but in vain. Once again, he slipped into total nothingness.
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Sephiroth pulled himself onto the ledge preceeding the dark cave, careful not to justle Cloud by scrapping him agaist the sharp edge. He was tired . . . exhausted, and his breathes cam in short heavy pants. Sweat rolled down his face , and he could feel it beading along his shoulders, causing the fermenting wound there to pulse with an incessant ache. He crawled awkwardly away from the edge and rolled over onto his back, Cloud now lying on top of him, still out cold . . . literally.
Now, as a result of his physical exertion, Sephiroth at least was no longer cold, but far overheated. He leaned up with a groan to allow himself room to untie Cloud's wrists. Once the ropes were off, he simply discarded them, too tired to bother putting them away. He intended to use the last of his strength to move Cloud into the cave.
He checked the blond's now-chaffed wrists, a small sacrifice to ensure his survival. Right now, he needed to get his friend warmer, before it was too late. Gently laying Cloud beside him so he could stand, he did just that, though a little shaky in his efforts. He swayed slightly before orienting himself.
This is the last hurdle. Just get Cloud to safety . . . then we can both rest.
His muscles screamed their lethargy as he bent and lifted Cloud into his arms. The blond's head lolled back and he shifted his position, leaving the golden locks resting against his chest once more. He shuddered from the burst of pain that tore through his back. He was positive he had probably just reopened the wound. He moaned, gritting his teeth. His body just wanted to lie down and never get up again, but he refused to allow his physical being free reign of his actions.
Stealing himself, he tightened his hold on his waning load, and stalked into the cave. He couldn't stand to full height, but instead had to bend slightly as he traveled further intward, searching for an acceptable location to revive Cloud. A long way into the confines of the natural structure, his enhanced vision spotted a smoothed dip in the granite floor. It looked as if water had flowed across or perhaps gathered in the compound once upon a time. Perhaps, if he traveled even further back, he may even be able to find some water with which to clean their wounds. Looking back to the bowl or stone, Sephiroth voted that he much preferred the softened state of the black granite to the sharp jagged edges of the mineral outside. Not to mention the biting wind, which had almost blown both Cloud and himself to their deaths as he ascended the vertical cliff face, could not reach them here.
He lowered Cloud into the naturally formed cradle-like indention, mindful of the gash in his head, he proceeded to tuck his coat, which had inevitably seen its last days, around Cloud to preserve what little warmth he could. Sephiroth then left unwillingly to search for water further into the darkness. The farther back he went, the more sure he became that there was in fact water to be found. Not only did the clear untouched scent now pervade his nostrils, but a trickling sound danced across his ears like quiet music.
As the sound grew louder, he found the source at last. The cave didn't continue on forever, but ended abruptly at a dead end, which was, ironically, full of life. The water of life. Several small falls of water fell from above and collected in pools very much like the dried-up one he had left Cloud in. There had to be at least ten of these mesmerizing phenomena. Another thing, was he could actually stand in this cavern, the ceiling of which reached high above his stature of six feet and one inch. Any other time, he would have stayed and perhaps even fallen asleep to the gentle lullaby of the running water, but he had other things on his mind. Unceremoniously, he produced a large canteen from his belt and knelt at the nearest outlet to fill it. Capping the leather container, Sephiroth began his trek through the tunnel, grudgingly ducking back down to accommodate the lessened height of the stone above.
Returning to Cloud's side, he lifted the blond head into his lap and gently ran his fingers over the pale skin of his blood-dirtied face. He found the soft cloth he used to clean Masamune, then wet the material with the cold water. Sephiroth knew warm water would be much more ideal . . . but what was he supposed to burn? That last time he had checked, cold hard stone did not exactly make feasible tender.
Sephiroth began his task of peeling away what he had guessed to be a bloodied cotton shirt from the head wound. What he found underneath was not pleasant on the eyes, but, from experience, Sephiroth knew the wound was not as bad as it seemed. That, underneath the massive amount of blood, he would most likely find a much smaller lacerations than garnered by the amount of crimson. Head wounds, no matter how small, always bled like a punctured water balloon.
He was right. After cleaning away the matted colloid, he found, beneath the now-dampened blond, broken skin and bruises that appeared to have been caused by a fairly blunt object. Thankfully there was no infection. Having nothing with which to suture the now-clean wound, he reluctantly left it thus in favor of taking on another task.
Before Cloud could wake up, he had to be warmer . . . a lot warmer. Lying down beside him, Sephiroth pulled his charge back against himself and curled his arm around him. With the mess of blond hair nestled in the crook of his outstretched arm, using said limb as a pillow, Sephiroth lowered his chin into the feathery softness and inhaled the metallic scent of blood. No matter. He was tired, and Cloud desperately needed the body heat. Not that he would have minded anyways. He relished these moments when he could be so close to his . . . crush? No . . . that was too weak a word to use. His love? No, that sounded as if they were actually a couple, something Sephiroth knew would never come to pass. Either way, he enjoyed these moments immensely. He was vaguely thinking that this was the first time he had actually knowingly spooned himself to Cloud. He had usually been asleep and just woken to find himself in the precarious position, though Cloud had never protested. He was wondering why, when he felt a deep shiver travel through the enigma in his embrace. Good. Cloud's body was finally becoming aware enough to realize it was cold. He closed his eyes and draped his coat over the two of them.
Everything will be fine in the morning . . .
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Author Notes:
I truly must apologize for the long wait, especially after such a cruel cliff hanger. You see, we've recently moved into a different house (My room is bigger, I have a giant closet, and my own bathroom! SQUEEE!!!!) Anyways . . . that is my most recent excuse for having temporarily lost my schedule of the usual one chapter a month.
As for the chapter itself, yes, I am aware that Zack has only been mentioned in a few sentences, and made no physical appearance whatsoever. That's because, well . . . the plot is about to explode frankly, and Zack now plays a key role, no longer just a comic relief. Teheheheeeee . . . well, I suppose that means I should give him a raise. And for all of you perverts out there, no, I did not mean it that way. This chapter was originally meant to be longer, a lot longer, but the information can wait until chapter twelve, whereas I'm sure you loyal readers can't. Thus, I have decided to cut chapter eleven here, at a nice fluffy scene.
In the next chapter, things will really warm up, and I don't just mean the weather. Just add in a cup of Sephiroth, a tablespoon of Cloud, stir in some Zack, toss in a pinch of Turks, and a smidgeon of . . . well, let's just say evil, and what do you get? CHAPTER 12!!!!!
See you next month . . . hopefully the seventh Harry Potter book won't keep me away from duty for too long.
This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.
