Hey folks! Here's an update for ya'll. (Granted it's not the best thing I've written in a while, but it will have to do. Updates for the next two weeks are going to be sporadic at best, as I've been super busy with work and everything else that takes priority over fan fiction.) Anyway, when I get the chance I'll get more posted. Until then, enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Thirty Six - A Rooftop Chat
This seemed like a good idea at the time...
"Jessie! Are you alright?"
Several shingles clatter to the concrete and shale below, eliciting tiny dust plumes where they land in lifeless heaps. I grasp the crooked gutter spout, trying to force my chilled fingers to reach for something a little bit more solid. The groan of ancient rusty metal rattles ominously from the far corner of the building.
The good news is that Cloud's broken body is not lying on the ground below. The bad news is that in a few seconds, mine probably will be. My boots slip against the shingles in desperate search of traction, several sliding out from underneath me.
My pulse quickens, the chill in the air nothing compared to the frigid reality that this gutter is all that separates me from the concrete below. The fall itself won't kill me. It's that sudden stop at the bottom. You never feel the actual fall itself, only the impact. So I've been told. Even if I did hit the right angle upon landing to prevent any bones from being broken, it would still hurt like hell. And there is almost no chance I can get the right angle from this height.
"Y-yes." I wince, every muscle in my upper body burning with discomfort from the sudden descent and abrupt halt. Thank Holy for having reflexes faster than most animals or I would have plunged to my death seconds ago. "I'm okay, Tifa."
At least for the next several seconds anyway. The gutter groans as it separates from the side of the wall, dropping me several inches. Damn it. I won't be able to climb back up without taking most of the shingles down with me. Whoever built this place never nailed any of them down for some odd reason.
"Hang on, Jessie, I'll find a rope or something to help pull you up with."
Easier said than done. I grit my teeth and press the toe of my left boot against a crack in the roof where a shingle once resided. Finding a rope long enough will take too long. I was more than halfway across the roof before my damn leg took a wrong step on a loose shingle and the whole thing went out from underneath me. To reach for a rope - I might as well just let go and take my chances with falling from a second story window onto concrete. When I look back to the window, she's gone.
Okay, think. Everything looks so unstable, like someone took soggy cardboard and painted it to pass for a roof. There's a small, flat veranda-like structure further up, but it's a good deal out of range. What else? I chance a slow look around, my fingers starting to go numb from the cold.
I'm not afraid of heights. I'll be fine. It's just a little mishap. It's not like you're clinging to a cliff with a raging river rushing below you that if you fall, you'll be swept over a raging waterfall and dashed amongst the rocks. No. It's a rickety roof at most.
Sure as hell feels like a cliff though.
"Cloud, when I find you, I swear I'm going to put you back in that coma you managed to get out of for this," I growl and plot my route, or try to anyway. For what lousy reason would he even consider climbing out on this roof for? More importantly, how did he do it without falling?
Don't look down, I remind myself. This is not the first time I've had to jump between buildings. Things like this were covered in training, and I was pretty good at it. Then again, there is a major difference between jumping up and jumping across. The latter I am now faced with.
The gutter shifts again, this time giving me more than a simple warning in the form of a shower of twisted metal and my foot losing its grip. I draw a deep breath, glancing at a flatter, more stable veranda farther up. Six feet maybe? Possibly eight if you include the molding supporting it. I can reach that, maybe, if I'm careful enough and move slow, then fast.
I hope no one actually sees me fall. Explaining this Barret would not be pleasant, as I'm supposed to be in the basement, not out here on the roof. My feet scratch against the wood, catching a crag in the boards and allowing me some leverage. Good. I can climb the boards at least. I shift my weight and dig my fingers into the grooves of the gutter, managing to get my elbows back onto the actual roof.
Mission one accomplished, for now. I drive my left elbow against one of the aluminum shingles and dare to reach for an exposed gap in the roof where another shingle once rested. The gutter growls angrily and swings out of reach. No going back now.
The damp shingles slip toward me as my partially numb fingers brush over them in search of sturdy pieces of wood to grab. What am I worried about? It's only six easy feet on a near-vertical slope. Piece of cake. If only confidence was as certain as failure.
My boots scrape against the shingles as I manage to get my body back onto the roof and balanced on my knees. I look toward my safe haven once again, picking out the sturdier path and begin slowly climbing towards it. I feel like one of those lizards that scale walls with the suction cups on their little claws. That would come in handy right about now.
Once again, I manage to lose the window from view, faced only with the darkened shadows of the upper part of the sloping roof and mismatched, uneven roofing practices of the slums. My fingers close around a sturdy, damp piece of wood somewhere near a steam pipe, allowing me the sturdy ground I've been looking for - or at least a chance to scramble up onto flatter territory. Swinging my leg over the minor barrier of wood and keeping a death grasp on the metal, I chance a look below me. That was a close one.
How did he manage to get up here anyway without falling? A slight disturbance in the way the shingles rest across one another tells me that he did indeed travel this way toward Sector Eight. But it just doesn't make any sense as to why he would do such a thing. And in his state - he should have fallen the moment he stepped out of the window.
"What are you up to Cloud?" I don't think even Zack would do something this insane.
I continue making my way across the roof toward the broken steel beams leaning against it's back, a part of the building frozen in time by rust and corrosion. That is going to be a long way down, but so far so good. At least I haven't found any bodies yet. I reach for the surface of the beam and test the steel with my foot. Seems sturdy enough. I'll have to avoid the rusty portions though.
Tifa owes me big time for this.
The beam remains solid as I grasp the uneven crisscrossed welded sections and attempt to figure out the best way to the alleyway two stories below. From the look of things, it's not well traveled at all, which is to my benefit. I'd hate to have to encounter anyone of threat in the dark. But getting down is a whole other story.
There is a scratching noise from somewhere to the upper left, much like that of some sort of animal. Every muscle in my body tenses at the thought. The scraping sound continues to approach, a little bit faster from the western corner of the building on the roof's opposite side. That doesn't sound like an animal. Dare I hope.
I instinctively try to move closer, finding the beam in complete disagreement and virtually blocking my path. Before I can even get a few inches closer to any semblance of stability, the wood under my foot caves and gives way with the shingles. My knee clips the metal beam sending a shockwave of pain through my lower leg.
I can only cry out in surprise as my hip collides with the roof. The air rushes up around me as I frantically reach for anything to halt my decent, the steel and cracked aluminum scratching across my fingers as it slips through my grasp in a shower of shingles and rotted wood.
A hand grasps my wrist, stopping my decent with a cruel wrench backwards, my shoulder colliding with the wall and my legs instinctively scrambling to find some sort of footing, finding only air. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to keep from looking at the ground below.
"I've got you. Hang on." That voice. Holy. Talk about timing and a half.
I manage to get my feet against the side of the building, my knee still throbbing at the motion. Might as well help my savior pull me up.
Never has being back on an unsteady roof felt so comforting. I press my back against the wall and try to catch my breath, not even wanting to consider how that could have ended. Verdot would have shot me for flogging that up like I did. Turks don't make stupid mistakes, and quite obviously I was not thinking straight when I ended up falling like that. I blame it on the man seated next to me. This is his fault for running off like that.
Gods my life has become one of those cheesy soap operas overnight. First I'm fleeing for my life, and now I'm making dumb mistakes and being saved by semi-confused amnesiacs who just hop out of bed and decide they're going to climb the roof of the building they're in because they can. I miss my old life. It was a lot less dramatic as this one is.
"Are you okay?" he asks, as though he is intimidated by the question. At this point, he should be intimidated. I'm half tempted to shove him off of the roof for pulling this sort of stunt to begin with. I'd be a lot better if I was not sitting on a roof of AVALANCHE's headquarters, in the cold, watching the mako lanterns flicker along the street below like tiny candles set there to illuminate a dirt-crusted window.
"I've been better."
Cloud shifts nervously beside me, those mako eyes the clearest I've ever seen them. He still looks like he crawled out of Hades, but there is color in his cheeks and a lot less confusion in those eyes of his. It's like looking at a whole other person than the one I remember. He looks, more alive.
"Why'd you climb up here anyway?" I try to sound a little less angry at him for doing something stupid that could have gotten him killed. He's alive. That's all that matters. "It's not like there's anything to see that you can't see down on the ground."
He ponders it for a moment before glancing up at the plate above, the boring mako lights swirling from every grooved weld and across the reinforced steel in that sickly green color Midgar is so fond of. Resting his bare feet against the shingles and leaning against the wall to look up, the slight tug of a smile crosses his dry lips.
"I had that dream again. Only this time, it was different." A tint of enthusiasm coats his voice as he points to the plate above. "There were stars up there. Lots of stars. And the most beautiful moon I've ever seen. It was beautiful. No dangers. No fighting. Just quiet peaceful stars on a backdrop of midnight blue."
Stars? He climbed out of bed, through a window in his nightclothes to see a bunch of stars that don't exist. Okay then. Looks like we're going to have to put locks on all exits to that room, windows included. A warm hand touches my shoulder, making me stiffen in alarm.
"And he was there," His eyes are bright with enthusiasm, his scraggly blond hair sticking to the four winds in desperate need of a brushing. "He said all stars are lucky, but the shooting ones carry a special kind of luck that doesn't exist anywhere else. He said that whenever you see one, you can wish for anything and it will come true."
My gaze scans the underside of the plate again, seeing only the cold cruel metal reality of what I'm involved in. There are no stars lucky enough to be seen down here.
"All I see is metal and steel," I look away with a sigh, hugging my knees to my chest and watching several people meander around the streets, our presence undetected to them. Down here, you can't even see the sky let alone any stars.
Cloud shakes his head and points to the plate.
"Beyond that," he smiles, a gentle, sincere sort of smile that reminds me a lot of Zack when he was in one of his excitable moods upon discovering something he just had to share with everyone close by. "You have to look beyond that metal sky to see them."
"That's stupid, Cloud. No one down here can see through that metal plate. The closest we'll ever get is those mako lights up there."
He shakes his head in amusement. I don't see what's so funny. It's a fact of life that everyone down here remains down here under the watchful gaze of Shinra's dark shadow.
"You're wrong about that. Anyone can see through that plate to the sky beyond. You just have to want to."
It's not like I've never seen the stars before. I used to count them when I couldn't sleep at night on assignments that took me away from familiar territory.
"Zack and I used to count them when we were camping out on our missions," a thoughtful look replaces the excited one as he continues to stare at the plate. "He said that she liked the stars, and some nights he would help her count them. That night on the Nibelheim Plains he counted a few and taught me the best way to count them so that you never count the same one twice. He said that if you count the same one twice, it goes out because it's no longer its own star, but someone else's."
I close my eyes to prevent the faint inkling of a tear threatening to show from actually materializing. Zack was something else.
"I don't remember much else from those nights though. Only what he told me. Hey, Jessie-"
"Yes, Cloud?"
"You ever count stars?"
Far more that I even want to admit. I cross my arms and try to comprehend just why I feel perfectly at ease listening to him talk about this sort of thing. He's got an interesting voice. Much like his was before he was murdered.
"Yes, a long time ago, but I gave up," I reply, still unwilling to open my eyes to look at him. He's alive, foreign as the concept feels. And, he's talking casually without that lag in thought he had for a while. He's going to be fine. The mako poisoning has passed.
"Why'd you stop?" His voice holds a sense of hope in it, the sound of him moving closer reaching my ears and the sense of warmth radiating from his body practically touching my left side.
"The stars vanished from the sky every time I wanted to count them. So I just gave up. It's too sad to count them anyway."
"Sad? But Zack always said it was a happy way to pass the time. Stars can't be sad things."
I open my eyes and shake my head.
"When someone sees a falling star Cloud, it is a sign of death. I've seen too many of them and don't want to count them anymore. To me, stars are not lucky or happy things."
They are reminders of what I have lost. Of how far I have fallen. Of what I have become.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry? Whatever reason does he have to be sorry for? He hasn't done anything really worthy of an apology yet. Even this doesn't qualify, as his being safe is acceptable enough.
"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But I made you sad by mentioning them. I didn't mean to."
"It's fine Cloud. I'm not offended by it at all. Someday I might start counting them again, but I cannot promise that I will. One never knows just what waits in the shadows."
Tifa's probably worried about me right now and thinking I fell to my death somewhere between here and the window. We probably should be getting back. But still, moments like these are rare.
"Tell you what," Cloud smiles, a beautiful sort of smile I've only known one other to possess. "When we go to see Zack, we'll spend some time counting the stars. And if we see a falling one, you let me handle it. See, I remembered."
"I'll hold you to that." I try to regain my footing against the shingles, my joints stiff from sitting for so long. "Let's go back inside, before Tifa sends a search party for us."
"Jessie?"
What now? He's got so many questions and I've only got a few answers.
"Do you think anyone down here will ever be able to count the stars?"
"Someday," I reply. "I'm sure someday they'll look up there and think about it." He stands up beside me, legs sturdy against the uneven roof. A shiver courses through his form at the invisible wind.
He's alive. He's better than he's ever been. I found him alive and strong. Thank you, Zack, wherever you are. Thank you for keeping him from wandering too far. I owe you one.
I remove my cloak from my shoulders and drape it across his in an effort to help control the shivering and prevent him from being chilled any more than he has to be. With questioning eyes, he draws it around his shoulders, the fabric a little short for him.
"Thanks, Jessie. But won't you get cold?"
"Nah, I'm a lot tougher than I look. I'll be fine. You just concentrate on not getting sick again."
Together, we make our way back across the uneven rooftop. Each footstep. Each crawling motion. Each one I am not afraid of falling. Cloud is alive and safe. Nothing can ruin that. I have no reason to be afraid.
The air beyond the window is warm, my heart racing slightly as I assist the former infantryman back into the safety of his room, directing him towards a frantic Tifa who rushes over to us and checks us both over for injuries. I've never seen someone worry so much as this woman seems to. One minute she wants to kill you, the next, she's being a mother chocobo. People are strange.
Once Cloud is resituated in his bed, the window locked, and a remote sense of stability restored to the circumstances, I gather my cloak and begin the long trek back to my lonely basement. I still have work to do after all.
"Thank you, Jessie. I knew you'd bring him back."
I pause in the doorway, cloak slung over my shoulder and look back towards her with the look of the Turk I once was.
"Tell Barret he stays."
From the corner of my eye, I catch the faint beginnings of a genuine smirk before I vanish into the darkness of the hallway to resume building the bomb that will officially declare our presence in the battle against Shinra.
I'll protect you Cloud. I'm one of the few that can.