Chapter Twenty One - Side Effects
"Oh, Cloud, how did you get this way?"
I gently dab away the light trickle of blood from the corner of his parted lips with the soft, cool cloth Tifa has left for me, taking extra care not to disturb his slumber. From the looks of things, my comrade has already managed to change him into one of Barret's over-sized shirts, leaving his blood-soaked and dirt-crusted uniform draped lazily over the nearest chair.
Might as well wash the thing while I'm here. I locate the wash basin and pour a bucket of lukewarm water into it, adding a little bit of soap.
"You know, Cloud-" The course fabric grates against the washboard with a rhythmic click. "This is the first time I've actually met you. Don't take this the wrong way, but you and Zack hanging around kinda seems odd. SOLDIERs and infantrymen usually hate each other. Kinda like Turks and everybody else. It just seems weird to me."
Then again, I'm one to talk. I was supposed to not enjoy working with SOLDIER either, but Zack somehow made things a little less cumbersome - fun even. You just never knew what the puppy was going to say next, especially when in the almighty presence of Tseng. Now that I think about it. Zack was the only one who could make Tseng smile on even the worst of days. And when Tseng was in a good mood, the rest of us could expect the same.
"But, I take it you two got along fine. Two country boys in the big city of Midgar. I can only imagine what the two of you might have talked about before you got sick."
Something hard brushes my wrist from the folds of the fabric. What in the heck?
I fish the flat object out the pocket of the uniform and rub the spatter of blood off of the slightly charred corner with my thumb.
"Oh Holy."
This is my key card all right. ID number, picture, and code strip. Damn it, Cloud. You are an idiot. A brilliant idiot. Do you realize just how much trouble this card could have caused had Tifa found it? Barret would shoot me on the spot.
I tuck the card into my pocket and turn my attention back to the uniform.
"But-" My hands mingle amidst the flakes of mud melting into the soap across the surface of the basin. "I want to thank you. You know, for saving my life."
He shifts in his sleep, brow furrowed in discomfort.
"You could have left me there to burn to death and no one would have held you responsible. They never would have even known. Why did you save me, Cloud? Why did you risk your own life for mine?"
The water drips from the woolen undershirt of the uniform as I ream the water from it and drape it over the back of the chair to dry. That should do it. At least it will smell a little bit better.
A violent shiver sweeps through his body, hands grasping at the quilt in raw terror.
"Cloud?"
His eyes are wide, the primal fear of an animal residing deep within the hazy mako hue. It's as though he can't see anything, but yet, he sees everything. Something about that look sends my hackles on edge in alarm. This is not Cloud Strife, but, someone or something else.
For a moment, he continues to stare, muttering something in slurred, slow words. And, just as quick, he sits bolt upright with a shout of raw, unbridled rage, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand by the bed. The quilt slinks to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Does he think-
"No, Cloud, they're long gone." I reach for the lamp in an effort to prevent him from hurting anyone, especially himself.
The military is not in this room trying to kill you, Cloud. It's a hallucination, a side effect of the Mako Poisoning.
"Tifa! A little bit of help here!" I know she's downstairs somewhere tending to Marlene or the bar. I just hope she can hear me.
The sound of shattering glass, pain tearing through my left shoulder and under my eye hits hard and fast. The wooden dresser grazes my hip as I grapple for his wrists. If only I can get his hands away from that weapon. He continues to shout, wrenching free of my grasp and swinging the lamp once again.
Damn he's strong for being a star pupil at Death's lecture hall.
"Cloud. Stop. I'm not going to hurt you!"
Please, Cloud, stop this. Please. I'm not your enemy.
I dodge another swing of the lamp, the curtains fluttering at the breeze. He's fast.
'Never let your opponent see what your next move will be.' Famous words offered by Tseng. The basis of how every battle works when you're a Turk.
A light swish of the air dangerously close to my right. This time, I'm ready.
My hand catches his wrist and jerks it backwards. Forgive me, Cloud. "I said stop it."
The lamp falls from his hand, his entire muscular arm trembling. For a moment, he looks puzzled, uncertain of where in the hell he even is. Those cloudy, helpless eyes take in their surroundings, finding nothing familiar.
He's so helpless. I nudge the broken lamp out of reach with the toe of my boot and take a seat on the edge of the bed, my hand not releasing his wrist just yet, lest his mako drenched mind reverses its decision about letting me live another minute and seizes my throat instead of that lamp.
There has to be a better way of dealing with these hallucinations. There just has to be.
He rests his head against my shoulder, panting and shivering. My heart races, every trace of his terror intertwining with my own sense of alarm.
"Shhh. You'll be okay, Cloud. You'll be okay." My trembling fingers stroke his unkempt hair in an effort to sooth him. "You're going to beat this. I know you are."
I can hear Tifa's frantic footsteps scaling the stairwell, and for once, I've never been more relieved to have someone else to help me.