Hey guys, sorry for dragging my ass on getting this chapter out. There was a death in my family last week so there was a lot of crazy stressness and whatnot. Anyway, if this chapter seems to just sorta end and doesn't seem like it should have it's probably because I chopped it in half. The second half is still missing some things that need to be filled in but i didn't want you to have to wait any longer to get to read something. Also, I'm slowly getting the replies to your reviews to you. I sent out about 20 the other night and I still have about 50 to go through. But you WILL get a reply. I promise :)
On to the chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII
Chapter XLIV
There was no way for Cloud to know how many hours had gone by when he awoke from his drug-induced slumber. He began to lift his one arm but was stopped by something hard. He opened his heavy eyelids to stare up into darkness. Fear struck him a moment as he thought perhaps he'd been rendered blind once again, but as he tried to sit up and was met immediately with a shot of pain in his head from slamming it against a hard surface, he realized it had nothing to do with his vision.
His fear remained as he tried to feel around the sides of what was most certainly a box. A coffin was more like it. It was just big enough to fit his body and there were only a few inches between he and the top panel. Not enough room for him to make any real movements. If he tried to bend his legs, his knees hit the wood, if he tried to move his arms his elbows would hit. There was no choice of position for him besides flat on his back.
Panic began rising inside him. He wasn't claustrophobic normally but in such a small space with no apparent way out, he found his anxiety rising. Stay calm, he lectured himself. Freaking out is not going to help you. He debated with himself whether it was real or not. It could have been a simulation. He struggled to move his arm enough to get within reach of his stomach. As he slipped his fingers beneath the material of his shirt he was just barely able to feel a bit of bandaging. It was covering one of the areas he'd been injured in the recent combat testing. That confirmed it was unlikely he was in a simulation. Usually whatever afflictions he had in the real world were not present in the programmed one.
He wished it weren't real. The idea that he was truly trapped in the box had him feeling helpless before he even had a chance to contemplate escape. The fact was, the limited space for mobility made it very unlikely he'd be able to force his way out. Unknowingly, his breaths had been leaving him in ragged pants as his anxiety was taking hold of him. It wasn't until that horrible thought that he may be taking in a limited amount of air supply too quickly struck him that he forced himself to calm his breathing.
Slowly, he moved his hand over his chest and turned it palm up as he touched the surface above him. He ran his fingers over the rough wood, pausing when he felt something like a hole. It was a hole. A small circle cut into the lid of the box, just over his face. He felt a small flicker of relief as he realized he didn't have to worry about suffocation. That didn't make him any less trapped though.
"Relax," he whispered aloud to himself. Hojo's just pissed you acted up in combat testing. He's not gonna keep you in here forever, he told himself. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wasn't ruling that possibility out.
000
Though there was virtually no sounds outside of the monitors next to him, Zack awoke from a feverish haze of a sleep, feeling like someone had been trying to wake him. It was the first time he'd woken with some form of real awareness since the day before last. He could tell just through mental assessment that he was in better shape than he had been, though that wasn't saying much. He wasn't out of the woods yet, so to speak. Probably not even close. His breathing was still heavily laboured, his lungs still feeling half full of fluid and blood, and he was certain he was still running a significantly high temperature. However, as he pushed down the thin sheet covering his bare torso, he could see several new incisions in his flesh that had been stitched closed. His guess was that the tissue grafts had been removed from his organs.
He should have been relieved. He knew that. But he felt the strangest thing as he thought of the possibility of making a full recovery. It was disappointment. And it scared him. Was he really disappointed that he was no longer lying on the threshold of Death's door? It was sad but true. He'd accepted the likelihood of his death. Made peace with it. And even that had been taken away from him. He thought of Cloud briefly. Felt his concern light up like a small spark in the darkest of basements, but he cursed himself promptly. Cloud would be better off without him if he didn't pull through. He was sure of it.
He wasn't able to stay awake very long. Each moment he'd forced his eyes open had been a struggle. He fell into a void where nothing seemed to exist outside of himself and his fleeting willpower. With his retreat back into sleep came an unexpected encounter. He wasn't aware of anyone present in his soundless and objectless dwelling until they spoke.
"Zack," a deep, familiar, and comforting voice greeted him. He looked up and into the eyes of his lost mentor and friend, Angeal. He was looking down at Zack with a deep sadness in his eyes. "Are you so lost that you should end up here?" he asked softly.
"Angeal," Zack spoke his name shakily, his vocal cords stricken with grief. Tears built up in his eyes immediately, a few of them escaping down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering his gaze once again.
The man crouched in front of him, searching to meet Zack's eyes again. "Sorry for what?" he questioned.
"For failing you," he explained. "I couldn't be the person you tried to teach me to be." He rubbed his arms slowly as he became suddenly aware of the cold air around him. "There was a time when all I wanted was to be hero. And to…help people. It was stupid for me to ever believe I could accomplish something like that."
"Zack, you've helped plenty of people in the past. Including me," Angeal replied matter-of-factly. "And you continue to help another." Zack met his eyes and scoffed lightly.
"Cloud?" he questioned rhetorically. Angeal nodded firmly. "I'm no help to him," Zack countered, shaking his head. "Not now. I probably never was."
"Why would you think that?" his deep-voiced friend inquired.
"I just…think I do him more harm than good. I've made more trouble for him than he deserves. Even when I try to help, I always mess things up."
"You can't really believe that. It's ridiculous, Zackary. You're his friend. Can't you see he needs you? Just as you need him. What of all your promises?"
There was silence a moment as Zack contemplated Angeal's words. He spoke at last. "Maybe I'm just a liar," he suggested. Angeal's expression turned grave.
"Hn…perhaps. A coward as well," he accused, drawing a hurt expression from Zack. "You'd rather give up because it's easier. Hmm? You'll give up on yourself and your friend and let him fight your shared burden alone?" Zack lowered his eyes and turned his head away from his former mentor. Angeal's expression fell into one resembling something of mild disgust. "You're no SOLDIER. Clearly, you've learned nothing." He rose from his couched position and turned away.
"I'm sorry, Angeal," Zack called to him as he was walking away. "I'm sorry I failed you."
The tall, broad-shouldered man turned back briefly, his eyes dark and sad. His expression softened, however, as he looked upon Zack's defeated form. There was a distinct sympathy shrouded in the man's face that Zack could see. Angeal pitied him. And he hated it. "No, Zack," the man spoke softly. I was your teacher. It is I who failed you."
Zack's mouth fell open slightly as he struggled for a reply. But there was none he could manage to give before the man that had meant almost everything to him at one time departed into the shadows.
000
In the confines of his loneliness, Cloud jolted once again as he was tipping on the brink of sleep. His elbows and knees hit the sides of the box, sending minor shocks through his sore body. As tired as he was, and as desperately as he wanted to get away from the monotony of that dark coffin, he didn't want to allow himself to fall asleep. He'd grown to fear the recesses of his mind, of that unconscious world. He feared those who would be waiting for him. Although Jenova had proven to have the ability to get to him even while awake, he could at least escape Sephiroth, or whatever remnant of him it was that haunted him. And then there were his dreams. His nightmares. Distorted versions of memories or horrid visions of things he feared most deeply. Sleep had become another enemy, and in a life that had become so completely out of his control, he needed to hold on to that one choice he could make for himself. To stay awake as long as possible.
He jolted again suddenly, not because he was about to fall asleep but because his ears caught the sound of a door opening somewhere nearby. A switch must have been flicked then as a small bit of light trailed in through the hole above him. Seconds later, he heard the sound of footsteps. He grew more alert instantly, hope filling him head to toe that he was going to be released from his confinement. He shifted himself as best he could, trying to see out the small hole. There was a thud on the lid above him and the box vibrated as whoever was present banged on the wood with his fist.
"If you want water, put your mouth to the hole," a gruff voice barked.
Cloud did as he was instructed, straining to lift himself up and get his mouth centered at the circular cut in the lid. Liquid rushed into his mouth in a continuous stream that didn't allow him to swallow without causing some of it to spill over the sides of his face and down his neck. The cold feeling was a shock to his over-heated body, but not totally unwelcome. When the flow of water stopped he tried once again to see out the hole.
"Hey!" he called out to whoever was present. "How long am I gonna be in here?" he questioned, trying to hide any sounds of panic or weakness from his tone. There was no response but the sound of footsteps headed away from him. "Hey!" he called out once again. There was no reply. Only the flick of a light switch that left him in darkness once again. He continued to shout, demanding that someone at least talk to him, or insult him, or just give him some indication that he wasn't going to be forgotten about. But there was no response. The only sounds came from himself as he panted in that stifling trunk.
After a few minutes, he had managed to calm himself once again and lay still as he stared into the darkness. He thought of Zack then. Hojo's words still stung painfully when he thought of what he'd said. That Zack was beyond repair. That he would die. A sick feeling took over his insides as he thought of the possibility Zack had already passed. What if he was dead? What if the one person who'd always been there to look out for him, was gone forever? He was fighting his emotions then. He was terrified at the thought that he was truly alone. He didn't know that he could survive in Hojo's constructed hell on his own. Despite his fears, the hours still went on. And on. Into another day of harsh realities.
000
Down in the med-sector, Zack took in a few deep, nearly pain-free, breaths. He had been lying, listening to the sounds of the quiet monitor bleeps that were lulling him and out of sleep. It was assumed by the medical staff that by some fluke, or perhaps miracle, he'd managed to overcome the worst of his sickness. With the grafts to his organs having been removed and his body infused with a world of medicines, he'd been brought back from the brink of death. Still, the doctor had been shocked to find his body regenerating itself and mending what damage the foreign tissues had caused that he was not able to fix himself.
Zack knew of course that he had had a hand in his improving condition. And so had Angeal. It had been obvious that up until the point he decided he needed to live, he was headed for the complete opposite. After his dream-encounter—or so he decided to call it—with Angeal, he convinced himself it was not his time yet, that he still had promises to keep, the most important being he had promised Cloud he'd get them their freedom back, and he intended to follow through with that promise.
It had been difficult to face his mentor and express his feelings of weakness to him. And though he didn't feel any stronger or surer of himself at the moment, he just couldn't abandon his friend. He hoped Cloud was in better shape than he was.
Unfortunately, Cloud was not in a very good state. After three days of solitude, silence, and darkness, he was stir-crazy. Upon waking from a nightmarish sleep and finding his situation unchanged, and with no indication of change to come, he burst into a set of crazed movements, slamming his knees, elbows, knuckles, and even his forehead against the sides and top of his enclosure. He was desperate to stretch, to stand, to remove the pressure from his back that had been causing him pain for days. When his actions proved fruitless, he fell back sobbing openly, letting his despair flourish and grip him tightly as the only friend he had left.
The only human contact he'd had in the past few days, if it could be called that, came from the short moments he was fed water through the small hole in the lid of the box. The one who brought him hydration never spoke outside of telling him to put his mouth to the lid. And no amount of shouting or threatening on Cloud's part changed that.
On top of everything, Jenova had been prodding him again. She'd been 'nice' enough to leave him be while he was conscious but still stalked his dream-world. The night before, it seemed like she had been waiting for him. Her strange, unearthly voice filled the darkness in his mind, drawing him in like a bug to a light. He hated the way he felt he almost needed to go to her. But he was terrified of being alone and of spending another day in silence with no one to talk to. He hated Jenova, and he hated himself for needing her. But he did need her. He listened to her as she tried to persuade him to let her be a more important part of his life. And she was certainly good at persuading. She wasted no time in appealing to his emotions.
"You're all alone, Cloud. There is no one to love you and care for you. Not when all those you've cared about have been taken away," she spoke softly, disguised in one of her many people-suits. "Will you turn away the only care and love for you that's left?"
"I don't know what I should do anymore," Cloud responded sullenly. It was more to himself than her. "I've lost more than just people…" He thought then of the blank space where memories of his hometown should have been. He'd tried not to think of it but it was difficult not to. He wanted to fill that space in so desperately but no matter how long he beat his head against the hypothetical wall, it never got any less empty.
"Past memories are not important," Jenova cooed into his ear. "They don't determine your destiny."
That may be truth…But it doesn't make me miss them any less, he thought to himself.
"You don't even know what you're missing," Jenova interrupted his inner contemplations. It annoyed him that she seemed able to read his mind. "You went 7 days without knowing you were missing anything at all," she added sharply.
6 Days…What happened 6 days ago? He tried to think back to that day. It would have been around when he'd tried to break himself and Zack out of the lab. Maybe when I was shot, somehow my—
The truth hit him suddenly and he felt instantly stupid for not having made the connection sooner.
"You took them," he whispered in realization, turning his eyes on Jenova. "That's what you took." She didn't deny it, just stared down at him as he made that terrible discovery. "Oh God," he muttered as a sick feeling began to take him over.
"You had a choice," Jenova responded coolly.
In a second, his anger could have been ignited at her statement. If she had not been right. He had himself to blame. He had allowed her to take those memories from him in exchange for her aid. He'd lost something he cherished, just so that he could be lent strength in some of his weaker moments.
But Jenova was not at all innocent. If she had told him what she would be stealing away from him, he may not have agreed to her deals.
"I want them back," he said as he rose to his feet.
"What?" she questioned with a mocking laugh.
"I want my memories back!" he shouted at her. She became serious quickly.
"You can't take back a deal you've already made. They aren't your memories anymore. They aren't important anyway."
"Who the hell are you to decide that?!" he challenged heatedly.
"A mother knows best," she hissed at him behind devilish eyes.
"Get away from me," Cloud ordered angrily then. "You're nothing to me. Forget following me around. You're never going to manipulate me again!" he shouted. A smile crept across her face.
"Oh, Cloud. I don't need to come to you," she claimed. "You'll come to me. And there's not a thing you'll be able to do to stop that."
With her final words having been spoken, she discharged him from his sleep, throwing him back into the wooden box where he lay, feeling like he was about to explode in a mixture of rage and sadness.
000
Zack took note of the calendar on the day he was sent from the med-sector back to the cell he shared with Cloud. It was June 21st. Summer had just about arrived. He used to love the season. Now he barely remembered what it felt like to stand outside with the sun beating down on him while a soft breeze blew by, rustling his hair lightly. He and Cloud had spent over three years feeling only the cold of their basement surroundings, with the exception of simulations. He almost wished to be exposed to another program via transmitter helmet if it meant having some time to interact with the outside world.
He had been disappointed to find the cell unoccupied when he was brought to it. He'd hoped Cloud would be there when he entered. While he was instantly a little worried, he assumed his friend was undergoing mako treatment or something of the like so he didn't feel too panicked.
It wasn't until he was brought to the lab several hours later and discovered that again Cloud wasn't present, that his nerves sparked up. If he wasn't in their cell and he wasn't in the lab, then where was he?
