"Where, where will you stand
When all the lights go out across these city streets?
Where were you when
All of the embers fell, I still remember them
Covered in ash, covered in glass, covered in all my friends
I still think of the bombs they build."
From The Only Hope for Me Is You by My Chemical Romance
- L.
The main dock, when they returned to it, was very quiet. Cloud imagined (for a second) that his fluttering nerves had blocked out the sound, but of course it was not possible – Mako in his cells didn't allow that kind of respite – and in any case, there it was, the sound of his own even breaths in his ears. They were just silent, that's all. Even Yuffie, who was sitting cross-legged on the armrest of the sofa, eyes closed, like in some kind of meditation. Barret was slumped deep in the other couch, polishing his gun-arm with a cushion.
The silence was stretched so tight and Cloud thought a wrong grimace would break it and shatter it to pieces. Tifa met his eyes briefly, her eyebrows raised, and made to sit next to Barret, picking up the strewn cushions on the floor.
"Where yeh been?" Barret asked, without looking up. His voice sounded much too loud, of course, but somehow it did not interfere with the overwhelming silence.
"I was helping Cloud pack, for later –"
Cloud noticed that Cid and Vincent were by the consoles, Cid in his Captain's seat and Vincent leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, both staring out the wall-length window with intense concentration. Cloud looked out the window, too, but he only saw the vast gray sky and the giant meteor half-hidden by dark rain clouds. He walked to them, feeling strangely self-conscious about his arms and legs, though no one was looking at him.
"What are you looking at?" He asked, as quietly as he could.
"Nothing," Vincent said.
"I was just thinkin', that's all," Cid said, distractedly. He wouldn't quite meet Cloud's eyes. "This is the End, ain't it?"
"The end of what?" Cloud asked. Cid shot him a half-incredulous, half-amused glance. He chuckled. Vincent turned his eyes away from the window and closed his eyes, a perfect imitation of sleep – or maybe death.
"You're funny, lad," Cid said, fondly. Cloud frowned, but before he could ask (he hadn't meant to be funny, but then he rarely did), Cid was talking again. "Say, Cloud, have you ever seen Loveless?"
"What?" Cloud blinked.
"The play. Loveless. C'mon, even you must've heard of it."
"Of course I've heard of it," Cloud said, an image of a torn poster briefly flashing in his mind, dark with rain and wind and dust, somewhere in the slums of Midgar. "Who hasn't?"
"But have you seen it?" Cid was insistent, for some reason.
Perplexed, Cloud shook his head.
"Strange thing to be asking," Vincent commented, without opening his eyes.
"I dunno, I feel like it's an End-of-the-World kinda question," Cid shrugged. He twirled the end of his spear on the metal floor. "Anyway, so I went to the theater one day –"
"You went where?" Barret said from the couch.
"The theater, moron, not like you'd even know what it is – anyway," Cid said, firmly, over Barret's half-muffled protests (Yuffie had just thrown a cushion in his face). "So I guess I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Y'know, Loveless, it's been on for years and there're hundreds of books written about it, right?"
"It doesn't have an ending," Cloud said, trying to remember what he could. "Does it?"
"No. An' that's another thing – what the hell, right? So I went to see it… turns out, I ain't a big fan of plays," Cid grinned. "I dozed through the first half… and, well, the next half. I woke up for the last scene, though."
Barret said something incoherent, as now Nanaki was wrapping himself around Barret's head, with Cait Sith cackling like crazy. At least the dreadful silence has passed, Cloud thought.
"The last scene, there's this girl and she says to this boy, 'Do you have to go?' and the boy says somethin' like, 'It's my responsibility.' And the girl doesn't understand but tells him to take care of himself –"
"Why are you telling this story, exactly?" Yuffie asked.
"Shush. So she goes all teary – but the boy ain't crying, just this sad smile, and he says, 'I'll come back. Even if you don't wait for me, I'll come back knowing that you'll be here.'" Cid finished. Cloud was saved from having to make a reply by Tifa.
"What does that mean?" She asked.
"Yeah, how does he know she'll be there if she doesn't wait for him? Sexist." Yuffie humphed.
"What happens next?" Nanaki said, casually sitting on top of Barret's face.
"Nothin'. I dunno. It just ends," Cid shrugged.
"That's so stupid." With that final observation, Yuffie went back to her meditation. Cid looked back at Cloud, and Cloud could tell that he wanted to make some kind of a point.
"I –" Cloud started, paused, scratched his head. "I've never been that big on literature."
"I didn't get it then, either," Cid said, as if to console him. "But now I think I do."
"What do you think it means, then?" Tifa asked, resting her chin on her hand. The sky cast a gray light and dark shadows over her face, and she seemed to be glowing.
"Well… I can't really put it into words," Cid looked sheepish, now. "I'd be a poet, then, wouldn't I? But… when this is over, I'm landin' this ship, for good." His eyes searched the window again, at the flickering bits of rain hitting the glass. "Yeah… that's what I'm gonna do…"
Cloud still didn't get it. He was about to ask, when Yuffie's eyes flew open suddenly and she yelled, "Cloud!" with such urgency that Cloud looked out the window reflexively to check for any missiles heading their way. There was none.
Yuffie jumped off from the couch and got out a piece of crumpled paper from one of her may pockets, straightening it out as she walked over to him quickly.
"Sign this," she said, thrusting it out. "It's a promise that you're gonna hand over all the Materia to me when this is over."
"I never promised…"
"Better late than never," Yuffie said, with an overwhelmingly generous air. Cloud frowned, but then the ship gave a sudden jerk and Yuffie yelped; she made to clutch his arm as she fell on her knees, leaving faint scratches on his skin.
"We've crossed the Northern Barrier!" Cid yelled, a glint in his eyes, a captain sailing into the end of the world. Cloud thought about saying something but anything he could say must have crossed their minds already, and besides he wasn't big on making emotional speeches. Instead, he stared fixedly as the ship tore through the sky and began to lower itself onto the ground, raindrops pelting the windows, almost screaming.
This is it, he thought.
- L.
The entrance of the cave was barely wide enough to go through, a dark and ominous hole surrounded by rocks and dead trees. Barret had to hold his breath when he squeezed himself in. Cloud went last, noticing for the second time that day how the world seemed to have turned completely soundless. All the plants and animals were dead inside the Northern Barrier. Even the air seemed to be decaying slowly.
Inside was a pitch-black stone corridor, also very narrow. Even his Mako vision could just barely make out the shapes of those in front of him; it was good that Vincent was leading the group, anyway.
"I can't see my own fingers," Cid said, in a hoarse whisper that ricocheted. "An' it doesn't make any difference whether I close my eyes or not, either."
"Same here," Barret said, shifting uncomfortably. "I feel blind…"
"I can only make out shapes," Nanaki purred, and something warm brushed Cloud's legs. Cloud could see Nanaki's shape, too, and Cait Sith perched above his head.
"Vincent, you can see, right?" Cloud asked.
"I can." Vincent said, calmly.
"Then you lead the group. And everybody, just – put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you, and walk carefully. Nanaki, you can follow us."
There was a shuffle as everybody tried to find the shoulders in front of them.
"Okay," Cloud said, when he saw that everyone had settled somewhat. "Let's go, then."
"Wait, wait," Barret said. "Don't you have a speech or somethin'? I mean, it's the climax and everythin'."
"A speech?" Cloud said, incredulous. "I don't have a speech."
"Well, then – at least say something encouraging."
Cloud racked his brain but couldn't think of anything. "Well," he said, after a pause. "Good luck, everyone."
Barret scoffed, but Vincent started walking and they all had to move along, albeit very slowly, feeling their way with their boots.
- L.
They were silent for a long time (walking in the dark was more tiring than he'd have thought), but it was broken suddenly when Vincent walking and consequently they all bumped into each other's backs. Someone said Ouch, Barret started to complain, but then a sudden hiss from the darkness in front shut them up. Cloud realized that they were no longer walking through a narrow corridor – the air felt much larger, here. They were in some sort of a room. Cloud looked over Barret's shoulders, his eyes strained, and saw a strange shape crawling towards them, hissing quietly – no, two, three…
"It's the Sephiroth clones," Vincent said. "The cloaked ones. They're coming at us."
"How many?" Cid said, dropping his hands from Yuffie's shoulders and grabbing his spear, valiantly, despite the fact that he couldn't see anything.
"I don't know – too many to count." Vincent still sounded calm, which was a stark contrast to the panicked hiss from Yuffie.
"How are we supposed to fight them? We're as good as blind!"
"We just swing at whatever comes near," Barret said, determined. "They don't got weapons, do they?"
"No, but are you sure…"
"Let's just spread out, do what Barret said," Cid said, feeling the ground with his spear like a blind man. "Oops, sorry, Tifa, didn't see you there –"
It was lucky that the creatures were so slow. By the time that one of them had gotten near enough to be a threat, they had all spread out with Vincent and Cloud's help.
Cloud backed up too, unsheathing his sword, when Barret called his name.
"Cloud, yeh still there?" Barret said.
"Yeah, I'm still here," Cloud said, wondering where Barret imagined he could have gone.
"Well – not anymore. Yeh gotta go."
"What?" Cloud said, not taking his eyes off the closet clone-shaped thing crawling towards him.
"We don't got the time. This is what Sephiroth wants, tie us here with these things and then blow up the whole Planet… C'mon, Nanaki's gramps said it could be any minute."
"But –"
"He's right, dammit," Cid grunted. "Only you an' Vincent can see in the dark. You two go, we'll catch up." He took a breath. "It ain't here yet, right? I feel like my nerves about to break."
"No, it's still a bit off," Cloud said. He would have liked to argue, but Barret was right – they didn't have time. Vincent was already preparing to leave. "Okay," he heard himself say, and didn't ask any questions (how long will you be able to hold on? How will you find your way to us?) because they didn't have time and maybe he didn't want to anyway (is this goodbye?).
He was running, leaping over the crawling creatures who jerked as if to catch his legs, and he heard Barret's gun firing into the dark. There was a strip of creature-free at the side of the cave, too steep, but Cloud thought he could make it if he ran up at once. Vincent joined him seconds later, not saying anything. His cloak didn't seem red anymore, just a deeper shade of black than the rest of the world.
They found themselves in another narrow corridor. Cloud didn't know if they were going the right way, but it was the only way, so he kept running. About ten minutes into the run (when he's had about a dozen visions of those clones overtaking the others, plucking out eyeballs and screeching), there was, suddenly, a light.
Cloud and Vincent stopped running almost instinctively, the sudden light such a shock to their dark-adjusted senses that Cloud forgot everything else for a second. The light was very small, feeble (but blinding), coming out from a crack in the wall and casting over the rocks that were not black but charcoal gray, with specks of dirt like diamonds. Cloud and Vincent looked at each other, and approached the light together, until they could almost touch it. Vincent's clawed fingers tore open the crack wider, and Cloud took a measured swing at it with his sword until the entire wall crumbled and revealed a smaller chamber, the source of the light. His eyes burned, the light was so intense, and he had to close them for a moment; he felt tears behind his eyelids. When he squinted against the light again, he found that it was a block of transparent crystal, glowing brilliant silver-white. It was Holy – but it was caged inside a wall of black smoke.
And then Sephiroth came.
- L.
He knew that if Sephiroth had ever been someone's friend, it was Zack and not him, but it was strange nonetheless; he had all the memories of Sephiroth, his green eyes alight with something other than the cold madness in his dreams, back when he was not a monster. Sephiroth watched him for a while, and his lips twitched into an amused smile. Cloud couldn't tell if the world was spinning or if it was just his head. Interesting –
"Interesting," Sephiroth said, slowly, in his rich, velvety voice. "You have changed."
I wouldn't have thought it possible. "I wouldn't have thought it possible."
Cloud realized that he was hearing the echoes of Sephiroth's words before he spoke them. He barely felt anything, all his sense numb. Was it the rock or the earth or the wind he was standing on? All he saw was Sephiroth's cruel smile and all he heard was the echoes of his multiple voices, everything else swallowed by the black smoke.
But "no matter, you can't" win. Cloud closed his eyes, concentrating hard to drive out the second voice. It was doing something to his head, smoldering and blistering his brain, and he realized that he was holding out his sword and his hands were not shaking. He opened his eyes.
"I admire your courage," Cloud. Have "you finally realized that" you are not real?
"I'm real," Cloud said. He focused on the green of Sephiroth's eyes. He tried to remember the fire, and after that – the pain, the rain, the dream, the lost memories. But the pain, mostly – the sharp edge of his masamune piercing his chest, the insistent pain of Mako too fast in his blood –
"Oh?" Oh?
Cloud concentrated on that pain. Yes, the burn; when he thought he was walking through hell and the Black Materia was burning his palm, and he imagined white bones and angry blisters on his skin, imagined muscles flailing. And now he was finally burning. He was burning the memories, too, but it did not matter – they may not even be real.
He was running. His sword clashed with Sephiroth's, coming up lazily to meet it halfway. His muscles burned and he knew he wasn't supposed to be running, moving at all, and Sephiroth seemed mildly surprised. A moment of clarity – masamune glinting in the reflected light of the Holy, moving faster than his eyes could follow. Cloud jumped out just in time, saw it cutting through air, and his heart was beating so fast even as he thrust Zack's sword out and he saw – no, he did not see, but he knew where that next attack would come from. Not his memories, how did this happen? Zack watching Sephiroth. Zack trying to imitate his graceful movements, Sephiroth training him, amused and patient –
He was breathing hard. It was difficult to move. Sephiroth had lost his smile, and there was a glint in his eyes as his long sword came at Cloud, making small cuts on his skin. It came at him with certainty; Cloud remembered, (How did you do that? Zack had sounded awed, admiring) and blocked it with two hands on the hilt. Sephiroth paused. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other.
"I see you've remembered some things," Sephiroth said. His voice didn't have an echo anymore.
"You're dead," Cloud gasped. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, the edge of his silver sword swished, and Cloud barely managed to duck. He tried to move faster than he could, and a short spasm of his wrist almost made him drop the sword. When he looked back up, the point of the masamune was all he could see; coming right at his throat, too fast or two slow, two blinks, but there was a gunshot.
Sephiroth had to wheel around and throw himself to the side, to avoid the bullet. Vincent was crouching on the protruding bit of the cave wall, the gun pointing at Sephiroth steadily and the metallic gauntlet clenched in a tight fist. Before he could fire another shot, Sephiroth rushed forward blindingly fast and with a deafening blow – Vincent was thrown to the other side of the chamber. His gun flew out, his head hit the wall badly. Sephiroth spared him only a glance, before he found Cloud again. The corner of his lips curled; Cloud had tried to attack him while he wasn't looking, but Sephiroth parried his blow as easily as if this was some choreographed dance move.
"Can't stand interruption," he said, softly. Vincent wasn't moving, Cloud noted, as his sword was again blocked by Sephiroth's. "This is our moment, is it now? Time to –" Sephiroth looked amused. "Ah, yes. Time to settle the score."
His own words, quoted back at him. Cloud tried to steady his breaths. That was when Aerith was still alive. He gripped the hilt tighter; a light flickered somewhere; Sephiroth charged again, still too easy, still with the smile.
Cloud blocked some of the blows, but some left deep cuts on his forearms and his sides. Small rocks cut into his skin when he fell to the ground. He wasn't fighting, he knew, just defending. The headache – he had hardly had time to notice it before – it was getting more intense. The Black that had made him give up the Black Materia, made him almost kill Aerith – it was back again. It curled around his skull like a snake, licking and squeezing and smiling. Cloud got up, bleeding, and found Sephiroth watching him from some distance away. He could have finished him if he kept on it for ten more minutes, but Sephiroth was – he was arrogant, he was lost, he was still furious. Cloud struggled upright, feeling his gashes rip and his bones rattle but not the pain – not there, anyway, but he was fighting the black smoke inside his head. It left very little of his mind to come up with a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, though.
Cloud's knees gave out, and he fell again. He wondered what that ugly noise was – realized it was his own breathing, coming with strained gaps in the middle. Sephiroth was watching him without a word. Blood soaked Cloud's messy hair and pooled around his knees – had he hurt his head? The pain was slowly and meticulously burning every surface of his mind and body. Cloud looked up, saw through a streak of – blood? Tear? – that Vincent was starting to stir a little, behind Sephiroth. His right hand was edging towards the metal gauntlet on his left. Their eyes met.
Cloud got up very slowly, deliberately, even though his knees were still shaking. He wiped the blood-tears from his eyes, and looked at Sephiroth, straight.
"So you finally remembered," Sephiroth said. "That we are not – have never been friends. You were no more than an infantryman. Hardly worth noting."
"Why did you –" Cloud's voice sounded hoarse, weak.
"The only reason I put up with your nonsense is, well, because I was… amused," Sephiroth said. "To see you with your righteous fury, throwing around words like friend, like you knew what it meant. Also – I was curious. All those years ago, how could you have summoned the strength to throw me into the Mako? I had impaled you… you hadn't had a drop of Mako in your blood, then." His voice had turned meditative, like he was talking to himself.
Cloud looked up. His right eye was blurry, but he managed to meet Vincent's eyes; he nodded. His half-vision found Sephiroth next, who had not a drop of blood on him.
"You want to know, Sephiroth?" His voice croaked around his throat like a badly-fitted armor.
"Do tell," Sephiroth said, with that indulgent smile.
"Because – at that moment, I was – I stopped being afraid," Cloud said, watching Vincent in the corner of his eyes.
Sephiroth quirked his eyebrow, not saying anything. Cloud took a shaky breath and took a step closer, very slowly. Sephiroth didn't move away; Cloud hardly looked a threat, his legs and arms still shaking badly.
"Tell me I'm fake, Sephiroth, that my entire life was not important."
"Not afraid of what?" Sephiroth said. Cloud wanted to smile, but his already chafed lips tore open and he tasted blood and fire.
"Of burning," he said instead, and threw himself forward suddenly, putting all of his strength into that one blow. Sephiroth's sword came up to met him automatically; no matter, he thought, he hadn't hoped to catch Sephiroth off-guard, anyway. He felt something break in his chest, a part of him cut open so deeply that his soul must be pouring out, but the pain was so big that he was able to hold onto that, like a raft in a stormy sea, and he managed also to hold onto Sephiroth. Concentrated on that pain – what kept him alive, what made him real – and held on, couldn't see, couldn't hear anything, just knew that he had to hold on. And at that moment he was no longer afraid.
A shadow covered them both, Sephiroth and Cloud, Chaos dripping blood and screaming fire. Cloud felt himself set on fire. A lullaby – the seven songs, the sky and the broken sunlight. He closed his eyes as he burned out.
- L.
The air smelled strangely murky.
He tried to open his eyes. Still, the air, it was strange – considering he assumed this was the afterlife. The girl was there, suddenly, peering down at him curiously.
"Is this – heaven?" Cloud muttered. He didn't feel like getting up, so he lay still.
"I had no idea you believed in heaven," the girl said, cheerfully, crinkling her eyes in a smile. Sunlight poured through and reached the tip of her hair, turned it golden, although Cloud could have sworn that it'd been night just a moment ago. It didn't matter, though. He stared at the girl for a long time, until her smile grew wider. She picked up a flower from near her feet and held it out to him.
"For your loved one?"
Cloud took it, the petals soft under his rough fingers. He was horrified at the yellow turning into red, the blood seeping through the petals – he dropped it like he'd been burned. He looked again, at his hands, but there was no blood.
For a moment he thought he smelled darkness, and blood, but then it was the church again. Early afternoon; the girl looking at him with that peculiar, ethereal smile.
"So – do you believe?" She asked. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her.
"I didn't," he said instead, looking up at the ceiling. He could not stand to look at her face. The broken stained glass lit up both their faces in different colors. "But now maybe I do. You're here."
"That's sweet," Aerith laughed. Her eyes shone in different colors; Cloud tried to name the colors, half-heartedly. The air shirted scents again, darkness and then – something much sweeter. He wanted to ask her if she'd been lonely.
"Am I dead?" He asked. Aerith took his hand and flipped it back and forth. No blood – but he smelled it, or thought he did.
"Not yet. Not today," she finally said, letting go of his hand. She stared into his eyes.
"Hey –" Cloud said, suddenly realizing. "This isn't the first time, is it? I've been dead before. In the Lifestream."
"Let's just say," Aerith said and winked, "Having a Cetra for a friend, it comes with its perks."
"You saved me every time?"
"I couldn't save you the first time," Aerith said, grimacing. "When you went against Sephiroth the first time – and won. You see, I had to be dead, first." Sunshine was in her laughter.
"Then…"
"Hojo saved you. Revived you, to use in his experiments."
"So this is…" Clouds gestured at the world around them, the yellow flowers and crisp sunlight and different-colored lights in their eyes.
"This is the Lifestream."
"It looks like your church," Cloud said, looking at the broken statues and the upturned pews just as he remembered them. Aerith nodded.
"So it does. It's a comfortable place for you."
"And you… you're," dead. "Am I dreaming?"
"Maybe," Aerith got up. She held out her hand. Cloud had to take it, though he felt like staying down – she pulled him up to his feet. She smiled at him. "You're okay, Cloud. For now."
"Will the Planet be okay?"
"I don't know," Aerith's voice was half-light, half-water. "You've done everything you can, anyway."
Cloud thought that was not true, but there was no arguing with Aerith; especially when she was smiling like this. "Okay," he said, weakly.
"It's time for you to go, now," Aerith said.
"Wait," he said, desperate, even though the smell of metallic blood was starting to come back. The church was beginning to melt into white light around him. "Did you… do you know about me and Zack? How he saved me…"
"I didn't, but now I do," Aerith said quietly. The taste of blood was between his teeth now.
"So now you know."
"Know what?"
"Why you took me to that firework show. It wasn't me – I was pretending to be Zack. All along. And you… loved him, said we were similar, but…" But they were not. Cloud was nothing like Zack.
"Cloud," Aerith said, like she was reprimanding him. When he looked back at her, though, her face was all dazzles and soft light, because she was smiling. "You're such an idiot," she said, fondly, and then everything around them broke into pieces.
- L.
Cloud gasped. Someone held out a hand; he thought it must be Aerith, but then forgot that soon. Something sharp returned to his chest – a feeling – a brutal, intense kind of pain. The pain that had saved him, the pain that was going to kill him, unless –
He saw a face that he hadn't thought about in years. And then some other faces, faces he had lost, torn. He took the hand.
"There. It's going to be okay."
Someone was crying. He thought there was no need; not if death was going to come like this, as a blissful green light exploding over his head.
"Is he going to be okay?" someone was asking. Cloud wondered what they were talking about. There was a lot of noise; and a lot of smell, strangely and bloody and murky, unfitting for Heaven. But then he did not believe in Heaven – or he hadn't, until today.
It was her hand, Tifa, "Hold on," she whispered.
Cloud opened his eyes.
- L.
"What's going on?" He murmured, his voice a faint whisper that he didn't like. Something inside him must be broken, he thought. In fact, lots of things must be broken – judging by the way his body was hurting all over. But he had no time to dwell on that, because there was a great sigh somewhere to his left that sounded like relief, and there were sudden noises all around too. A hand clasped his shoulder.
"You're alive."
Cloud was surprised to find it warm, because it was Vincent's hand – the one clad in that gauntlet – and the chaos must have done Sephiroth in (the air didn't smell like panic and resignation), but Vincent hadn't destroyed himself in the process. So, that was good. Cloud wondered what had happened to his own body.
"Yeah," Cloud said, surprising himself by sounding very surprised. He hadn't realized that there would be anything left to be surprised about.
"We thought you were… you know, not alive," Yuffie said, diplomatically. Her face was a bit of a blur, maybe because of the light pouring from the outside window, or maybe because his eyes were broken. Cloud tried to remember what had happened; after the explosion – the chaos – but he could only remember a great sadness, which puzzled him.
"What's happening?" He made himself sit up, not to scream out in pain. More hands helped him. He was still dizzy; didn't know what that meant.
"Well – Meteor's crashing." It was Cid; Cloud realized that they were on board the Highwind again, floating above the Planet as a big ball of fire was rushing (slowly, it seemed, but getting faster) toward the Planet. It was still far away but it wouldn't take more than an hour, someone informed him. Cloud shook his head because everything was unreal; lost, safe, sliding, slipping. He knew he should be feeling some panic, desperation, but all he felt was sadness. If only he could remember.
Didn't we stop it? Someone said, anxiously. Cloud heard the answer but didn't know what it meant.
Even if you don't wait for me…
Red ball of destruction, fire and pain and freedom, reminding of his childhood when all the world was a battlefield with blood dripping from every leaf and there – there was the light. Or maybe it was just the sky, indifferent to the last, a soldier lying in his own puddle of blood.
- L.
Reno watched the sky, like everyone else. But he wasn't thinking what they were thinking; or, at least, he thought not. The sky looked too small for that giant ball of fire tearing a hole through it like it was fabric. Reno was thinking it looked like meatball; he loved meatballs.
Everyone else had a rather constipated look on their faces. The Shinra HQ Building had crumbled down in all its glory, but Tseng had managed to rescue Rufus from the rubbles. Rufus had broken his leg, but that would be the least of his concerns. Except maybe if he'd wanted to be standing up tall when the world ended, but Reno couldn't think why anyone would want that (except he was not sitting, either, standing beside Rude with his hands in his pocket); the world was ending.
He watched the sky, Rufus watched the sky, Tseng, Elena, Rude and Reeve all watched the sky without a word. Reno wanted to know what Rude was thinking (if he was thinking at all); he felt like this was the perfect time to ask, in the middle of the burning apocalypse and everyone looking so pained.
"Rude," he didn't speak especially loud, but it sounded very loud in such a messy silence. Reeve turned to look at him. Rude just gave a grunt. "What are you thinking?" Reno asked. Rude kept looking up at the sky like he was looking for something (not the Meteor, probably; it was hard to miss), and his answer was not what Reno had expected, nor particularly liked.
"A miracle."
"Seriously? There's no such thing as a miracle. I didn't take you for a – everybody get down!"
Rude and Elena, being trained Turks, ducked on reflex before they even knew what it meant. Tseng, being trained leader, leapt and took Rufus down with him, lying flat on the ground. Rufus howled in pain. Reno was about to get the hell out the way of – whatever was coming at them, a force of green light that vaguely looked like someone he knew – when he spotted Reeve, staring stupidly around him. Reno fell forward instead, crashing down onto Reeve. The green force swept over them and burned the air right above their heads.
He realized the ground was shaking now, beating – it was familiar, somehow. More green lights were coming at them from everywhere, and they all left burning trails. Reno realized that the ground was beating with his heart; exactly to his pulse; it was like the whole world was his chest and he breathed life like a magnificent beast. The sky shook, the meatball in the air was falling faster but the green lights were gathering their forces to meet it halfway.
"What's that?" Elena shouted, scared and awed. Rude looked at Reno like he might know the answer. Reno realized that Rude's sunglasses had fallen off. He also realized, for the first time, that Rude had green eyes and not coal black like his soul.
"It's the Lifestream," Reeve said, sitting up and gaping at the sky like a fool. Reno shoved his head back down before the green force – the Lifestream – could blow his head off.
"It's a miracle."
It was a while before he realized that the voice was his own.
- L.
"So we did it – we have released the Holy, after all," Tifa said. The green light was so intense, so final – she remembered Cloud's memories, the world (their childhood) from his point of view. To Tifa it had always been rustling summer winds and sweet melodies, even the sadness was bitter like honey. But she had known nothing.
The lights were all gathering, pushing up against the Meteor. Tifa knew that they would collide any minute now, the exploding fire and the pulse of the Planet, and it would end one way or another.
The end of the world wasn't quite as she'd expected it. So she wouldn't go down swinging, like she'd always imagined; she wouldn't be the first to die (before him), like she'd secretly hoped. That would be just – too sweet, a little too beautiful, and Tifa knew it to be messier in Cloud's head. He would probably remember it all wrong, so maybe it was better this way. At least they would be together.
She stole a look at him now. He sat limply against the leg of the sofa, staring hard at the mess of light in front of him, with narrowed eyes like he was waiting for the ending of a play he knew. Suddenly a terrible desire seized her. Tifa imagined the end – just as she had dreamed, and wondered if it wasn't this that she had always searched for, waited for. She called his name, before she could decide against it.
"Cloud." It was like sin – saccharine.
He turned his head at his name, and his blue eyes found hers. Tifa was not watching the end of the world; Cloud was not listening for the clash. As the two forces collided and the world flashed in a blinding white light, they were only looking at each other.
-L.
A/N:
This is the ending! Finally! It kind of just… ends, but then in the game it just ends too, and I think it's kind of poetic that way. What I wanted to do when I started this project was to make this wonderful world more alive, more immediate, and I hope I succeeded… a little, at least. Kind of like how I'm looking forward to the FFVII remake (they didn't announce it until after I finished writing the whole thing, unfortunately. Oh well.) because it'd make the story more real, you know? Anyway, thank you for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed :)