A/N: Sorry this took so long :( I've been quite busy and although I'd really like to promise I'll write more frequently... Don't get your hopes up ¬¬
Anywho... please enjoy :)

Between leaving home and joining the army, I think there must have been a point at which I was confused. Did I really need to leave? Did I have anything to go back to if I didn't leave? Was I sad I was leaving or excited I was going? It's true I was too young really to join up, but at my age I should have picked up the training in no time. I can confidently say it was a bit of a disappointment when I failed the entry exam at the age of 16. My 14 year old self might have cried, but the older me simply joined up for something else.

The infantry wasn't the same as being a SOLDIER; you didn't get the same privileges or respect. I was still on the front line, so I was happy for that, and the experience was good and would help me in the future. I didn't even take into account the fact that perhaps staying in the SOLDIER program would have been better for my health. At least my physical state would have stayed constant. I've lost count how many times I've woken up in a medical bed or on my way to the surgery.

My last injury condemned me to the scientific core. Which doesn't sound too bad when you first hear of it, but after checking the résumé it soon became clear that the next 4 years of my life would be spent in an almost perpetual coma. Skipping out on puberty sounds like a great idea at first, but I was only 17 and the last mission had seen my hometown burnt to the ground and the love of my life leaking blood onto the floor as if she was trailing mud into the house. Everything I had once held dear and fought with all my might for was gone, how could anyone expect me to be the least bit happy about that?

The coma passed in a haze of blue-green water and flashes of pain, regularly punctuated by other people's memories. I wasn't the only one in a tank either, my best friend and superior – Zack Fair – was also bought in to the labs. I'll never forgive Hojo for what he did to us, but the mangy old bag is dead now and we had escaped.

My biggest regret is the fact that I could do nothing to save him. I was completely reliant on Zack for my life, he was the only thing keeping me breathing at times, my own brain was too Mako-addled to deal with any sort of living, the coma still having me in its grip even as he dragged my dead weight from the Shinra compound. His death hit me with all the subtlety of 10,000 volts. There was nothing else I could do; no one could blame me for crying.

I was a mess when Tifa found me, I could barely remember my own name and had been fooled by Zack's memories and Hojo's meddling into thinking I was a SOLDIER first class. I certainly cut the right image; SOLDIER uniform, buster sword, glowing Mako-bright eyes, the works. Tifa seemed delighted she'd found me and insisted on taking me home with her. I didn't even know who she was back then, the only clues I had were memories of a well and a starlit night in which I promised a girl something... "Anything... I'll be your hero... I'll save you, anytime you're in a bind..."

It was only after fighting alongside her and mingling with her new family, absorbing her memories through touch and recognition that it came to me. She was girl I had loved in my hometown. She was the reason I had left. She was my motivation to become stronger, to become someone worthwhile...

The euphoria I felt at this recognition was short lived when I ran into Aerith. Some part of me loved her for myself, but the other part was entirely taken up by that strong infatuation that Zack felt for her. I knew he had a girlfriend back in Midgar, but I'd never have expected to meet her myself. I wasn't really trying to do anything other than land on my feet when I fell through the church roof, I didn't see the flowers, how was I supposed to avoid them? "You just are!"

All that while I was 'just' meant to be able to do everything. I was to be superman without the kryptonite. It was impossible and even then I failed in protecting Aerith. I cried then too, not as much as when Zack died, but I think somewhere in my brain I had made a promise to Zack that I would look after her, make sure nothing happened to her, just for him. And in that I failed.

My misery at having failed my friends was what carried me through the next 2 years of my life. Those rare moments of solace, when Tifa would pat me on the top of the head and tell me I did well to save who I did and that she wouldn't be strong enough to do even that much, were as much of a saving grace as the discovery of Denzel.

Geostigma was wracking the planet, laying waste to all life and I was just another in its line of prey. When I found Denzel, curled up on the ground next to Fenrir, writhing and screaming in pain with Tifa's frightened calls ringing through my mobile phone, he reminded me so much of my younger self, before the experiments and before the deaths, that I really had no other choice, I had to take him home. "Don't worry Teef, I've got him, he'll be alright, I'll see you in 20."

Together we nursed Denzel's health, but I was struggling to hide my own injuries and slowly but surely my trips and journeys became longer and I got home later and more infrequently that eventually I stopped coming home altogether. I still sent money and supplies to the 7th heaven, but I didn't go back, the black ochre running over my skin and the world –shaking, heart-stopping pain was just impossible to hide.

I think Tifa understood at some point that I wasn't coming back, when it hit the 3 month mark I thought she'd have given up on my entirely, but she still held out for me, there were always voicemail messages on my phone, telling me how their days went and Denzel's slow degeneration in health. It nearly broke my heart to hear her crying voice telling me she'd found another mark on him, this time on the back of his neck and he'd not been able to move out of bed all day. I wanted nothing more than to go home and talk to them properly, see them again, but my disease wouldn't let me. It was why I never answered the phone; I didn't want to tempt myself home again.

The day that Geostigma was cured, I'd never felt so light. Before, I had been resigned to dying alone and in pain, but now I had the opportunity to have a family and be a human again – as human as one can be when they've been cut apart and stitched together countless times with all the added chemicals and attachments I have. I cried for a third time that night, apologising to Tifa and Marlene and Denzel for abandoning them and disappearing off on my own. I don't think they'll ever forgive me for what I did, how I left; I still see the worry and relief in their eyes when I come through the door albeit a little late.

There are times when I'm alone with myself, on the road, locked up in my office or the garage, that I think what I would have done differently if I had the chance... And I've come to the conclusion, I don't want to do anything else that could lose me what I have right now and if I could go back in time, I wouldn't change a damn thing in my life. I'm not sure how the rest will turn out, but with the little velvet box tucked safely into my fatigues' pocket, and dust flying round the outer mudguards as I speed across the desert on my way home – 2 days early mind you – I'm pretty sure the best is yet to come...

A/N: Aww ain't that sweet xD Leave a review and maybe even a prompt and I'll TRY and balance my work load enough to post it xD :)

-Okami