AN: Done for LiveJournal's Springkink community.
FOUND
They reached for him in the eternal midnight of his mind; tendrils of shadow and horror that filtered through defense and pretense to slither deep and coil tight. Cold, they twined around him until voice and breath both failed, and he was unable to break their desperate tether and he alternately prayed for salvation and death.
A number.
A name.
A purpose.
Give me something...
The tendrils suctioned memory and heart, leaving him a shaking hollow husk, too shattered to cry out...too frightened of the reply.
It was then that she found him, dank and dirty, smelling of urine and vomit--his own?--in that train station and she pulled him from the dark with soft words and sturdy hands. With care and precision, she severed the tendrils locking him stagnant, and finally...finally he could move.
He had a name...
"Cloud?"
He had a purpose...
"Hello, Tifa."
He no longer needed a number.