Chapter Sixty-Three: No Bridge Left to Burn
Author's Note: "Show him my hand" is an idiom which means to make one's plans, intentions, ideas, secrets, etc, known to others. It refers to displaying one's cards, or "hand" during a card game. Just an fyi for those who's mother language is not English. :)
"Throw in the towel" is another idiom which means to give up.
I changed the description of Zack's bar counter into a kitchen island, as that's a more accurate term for what I had envisioned.
Dr. Bleier held up his end of the bargain. Cloud was released into Zack's care two days later with discharge papers in one hand, and a brown bag with prescriptions in the other. The pharmacist had explained one prescription was an iron supplement, another was a stool softener in case the iron caused constipation, an anti-anxiety medication for onset of panic attacks; and an anti-depressant for, well, depression.
The pharmacist also asked Cloud if he would like a refill on his migraine medication, to which Cloud shrugged with an overwhelmed sigh. After a fifteen minute wait, that too, was added to the brown bag.
They finally left the infirmary together, Cloud walking at a slow pace, and Zack trying to curb his own fast pace to match Cloud's. He was feeling a little eager to get back to his quarters and far, far away from this part of the building.
Once they entered the elevator, Zack saw Cloud glance into the bag with a frown. "I didn't know you were still taking pills for migraines," Zack said, and his voice seemed to startle Cloud, for he crumpled the bag closed and straightened up as if he had just been caught doing something embarrassing.
"E-Every now and then," he mumbled, forcing his gaze to inspect the button panel.
"They gave you quite a few this time, but I'm sure we can keep track of how many to take, and when you need to take them."
Cloud chuffed and muttered under his breath, "I'm starting to think it'd just be easier if I were dead."
It was so quiet that Zack considered that perhaps he hadn't really heard him, but he turned to look at Cloud and saw the pensive expression that one would wear when saying such a statement. It was hard to stop the rush of anger he felt then, but somehow he was able to stuff it down enough to speak in a calm, but firm tone.
"Don't say stuff like that, Cloud. Not even as a joke."
Cloud turned his head away to face the wall of the elevator, and his shoulders slumped.
"Hey," Zack said, his voice now upbeat. "Remember that time you puked all over me in the elevator?" He chuckled, then gave Cloud a gentle clap on his shoulder. "It was my last clean uniform. Just like this one is."
Cloud's head turned to look at the hand on his shoulder, but then went back to staring at the wall. "No," he finally said in a solemn tone. "I don't remember."
The cart stopped and the doors opened. Cloud exited and began making his way toward Zack's quarters, leaving Zack in the elevator, frozen in a state of shock.
Cloud settled in without any help from Zack, and did everything in a robotic way. He placed out each of his prescriptions on the bedside table in a neat row, undressed and then folded his clothes and placed them on Zack's dresser, then crawled into Zack's bed without a word. When his head hit the pillow, he let out a sigh like the final whir of a machine before powering down. The actuators which had been moving his body stopped, and he lay without making another sound or motion.
Zack placed a kiss on his head and stood staring down at him. He hoped that Cloud would turn over and give him a small smile, or say something to let him know he was all right, but there was no such assurance. Cloud showed no response when Zack stroked his head, or even when he fiddled with the prescription bottles beside him. Zack sighed to himself, then announced that he had a quick errand to run and would be back in a little while. Not even that made Cloud budge.
The errand was going to the psychologist's office. After waiting for a turn to speak with the receptionist, she informed him that the psychologist wasn't in yet again. She would not divulge Zack in when she would return, either. She did, unfortunately, hand Zack a folder stuffed with forms from Dr. Bleier with a glaring yellow sticky-note on the top page reminding him to turn in the reports every Monday at 9 AM sharp.
As if Zack needed another damn reminder.
He decided to look over the folder at a table on the SOLDIER floor by a massive window. The sun was creeping low in the sky, the orange streaks being smeared away by the green hue of the mako smog hanging over the city. It turned what should have been a stunning sunset into a foul sludge of color. He strained to look beyond the pollution to the expanse of the wastelands, but even that was impossible to see. Zack had never felt more trapped and isolated.
He forced himself to open the folder and rifle through it, but the more his eyes scanned the words on the pages, the less he found himself retaining the specifics of what he was reading. They were similar in nature to the forms he would fill out for Dr. Arolin, he knew that much, but these appeared to be extensive questionnaires. There were questions ranging from changes in appetite and behavior, changes in sex drive, to physical changes such as weight gain or loss, even changes in pupil size. Two pages—front and back—were dedicated to changes in memory, and another full page dedicated to suicidal ideation and tendencies. Some had multiple choice check-boxes, some were on a one-to-ten scale, some were free-form response.
From the look of it, Zack knew it would take him over half an hour, at least, to fill it out each time, and that would be if he buckled down to do it with efficiency. Just skimming it now made him frustrated, and he pushed the folder off to the side of the table with a groan, dreading having to begin the arduous task come every Sunday evening, or early Monday morning.
The green haze of the mako took over now, saturating what should have been a rich night sky, which meant Zack had been sitting at the table for longer than he realized. He snapped himself out of whatever daze he had been in and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He knew the psychologist's number by heart now, and he dialed it without second guessing the time of night and whether or not she was dealing with her toddler. He hung up after a few rings when he heard someone approaching from behind.
Kunsel was walking up to him with a small grin, looking no worse for wear from his stint in the detention cell. "I stopped by your quarters, but you weren't there, so I figured I'd run into you around here," he said, slipping into the spot next to Zack. "Boy do I have some good news for you."
Zack tried to return the grin, but he felt his mouth twisting into a grimace instead. "When did you get out of detention?"
"Oh, later that day after Cissnei made me beg for release." There was a twinkle in his eye and a light tone to his voice which suggested the release was not exactly about his incarceration.
"I don't wanna know what weird stuff you have going on with that Turk," Zack muttered, reaching for the folder that he had shoved away. He busied himself with turning the pages, but not looking at them. "Glad you're out, though."
Kunsel grabbed the folder from Zack's hands and he began flipping through it with a frown on his face. "What're you doing with one of these?"
"You know what that is?" Zack watched as Kunsel nodded, and then closed the folder and tapped it on the tabletop a few times to straighten out the pages.
"Of course I know what that is," Kunsel said, but without the usual hubris he had when declaring he knew something. "This is the infamous brainchild of Dr. Bleier. I had to fill one out every damn Monday for Ratcliff. Is this for Cloud?"
"Yeah, he's … he's not doing so well."
Kunsel rapped his fingers on the folder a few times in a brief moment of thought. "But wasn't he seeing Dr. Arolin?"
Zack's shoulders sank low, and he buried his face in his hands without caring whether or not anyone saw him. Considering the SOLDIER floor was as desolate as it was, it didn't really matter anyway.
"Dude, what happened in Kalm?" Kunsel asked, pushing the folder away as though it were giving off noxious fumes and causing Zack his distress.
Zack debated whether or not he had it in him to retell the story. Eventually he took a few minutes to explain what had happened in Kalm, but leaving out the intimate details. Somehow reciting the story this time was less cathartic for him, despite explaining it to a close friend. It pained him to put the past few days into words, but he was able to get through retelling of Cloud's time in the infirmary without more than a lump in his throat.
Kunsel didn't interrupt once, he merely sat and absorbed the information as it was relayed to him. Zack could see through his neutral, outward expression to his brain as the waterfall of new data came crashing down into it. When Zack was finished, Kunsel's neutral face turned into one of exasperated disbelief.
"I knew the kid had been ailin' for a while, but I didn't think it was bad enough to cause his memory to go to shit like that," Kunsel said, shaking his head with a sharp exhale. "I'm sure he's just overloaded. It'll come back once he starts recovering."
"I keep hoping he'll start recovering, but it seems like every time I think he's on the mend, something happens to make him worse. And I don't think I'm helping."
Kunsel snorted at that, clearly unimpressed with Zack's pessimism. "Well that's a very offbeat thing for the Zack Fair to say. Look," he said, jabbing an index finger down on the tabletop with every few words, "you take shit as it comes. Day by day. The wound is already open, so there's no point in dwelling on how it got there, or if it'll get infected tomorrow. You do your best to keep it clean today."
Zack stared down at the folder on the table. "Yeah, well, had I been able to prevent the wound from happening in the first place, there'd be nothing to clean."
"Well guess what, buddy? You didn't, and you couldn't. No one could've predicted any of this. What's done is done, and now all you or any of us left can do is just keep moving forward. If that ain't enough, there're things you can do to help rectify the situation, but you can't go back and stop it from happening."
"How the hell can I possibly rectify any of this?"
The hubris returned in Kunsel's tone as he straightened up with a sly grin. "So glad you finally decided to ask. It only took you five minutes of self-loathing to remember I come bearing good news."
Zack muttered a halfhearted apology and turned his full attention to his friend.
"I've been in conference with Sephiroth for the past few days, trying to petition him in allowing you to officially hunt down Mejia. I figured since we were caught, I might as well show him my full hand, right? So I let him know that we are indisputably aware Mejia is alive, and that you deserve both transparency and justice." Kunsel drummed his hands on the table a few times in excitement. "I requested when Mejia is sighted, that you be the one deployed to take him down. Sephiroth said he'd consider everything, and for you to come talk to him about it at your convenience. What'cha think 'bout that?"
Zack was silent, even as Kunsel gave him a few excited nudges with his elbow to try to get him to react.
"Well don't thank me all at once," Kunsel said with a short chuckle.
"Why … why would you go and do that behind my back?" Zack asked.
Kunsel's grin faded quickly. "I was trying to help you out. You said yourself that you were back at square one."
"Yeah, but that was before all this with Cloud! Now Sephiroth is gonna go to Tseng about it!"
"What's the big deal?" Kunsel asked. "They know that we know. We might as well use that to our advantage and put the pressure on 'em."
"What's the big deal?!" Zack echoed, "I'm already hanging on by a damn thread with Tseng! He threatened me the other day, hinting that he was gonna bar me from seeing Cloud. That could mean shippin' him off to another base, or to the Northern Cave! I can't risk losing him over this anymore. I'm already losing him enough as it is!"
"Dude, I'm sorry," Kunsel said with sincerity. "I didn't mean to make this more complicated for you. I didn't realize—"
Zack cut him off, his patience thinned. "I don't need an apology from you. What I want is for you to stay out of it from now on. It's bad enough I've gotten you involved, but now you've further implicated yourself in this big mess."
"I don't care about that, Zack. I told you before, I can handle it."
"No way, man." Zack stood and scooped up the folder in his hands, giving Kunsel a grunt when he caught the pages as they started to slip out. He jerked the folder away from him once the pages were stuffed back in. "I can't leave Cloud to go chase after that asshole, not when he's sick like this. And I can't live with myself if something were to happen to you because I let you stick your neck out for me."
Kunsel continued to sit at the table, his face twisted in utter indignation. "Are you joking? After you've come so far, you're gonna throw in the towel now? Do you realize this is the closest you've been to exacting revenge since this all began? I got you an audience with Sephiroth. He's literally acknowledging that Mejia is still alive by agreeing to talk to you about this!"
Zack fell quiet, his gaze drifting over to the Briefing room, as though Sephiroth were sitting there at one of the computers. He then looked down to the folder in his arm, the pages in disarray with several threatening to scatter to the floor if he were to loosen his grip even just a little bit.
Kunsel was staring at him in wait. His expression was now one of teetering on an angry outburst, but it did nothing to sway Zack's decision.
"Stay out of it. And that's an order."
Kunsel openly scoffed and dismissed Zack's behest with a curt wave of his hand. He turned his back to Zack and faced the window with his shoulders stiff in anger.
"I know you're pissed, and you probably won't believe me when I say that I do appreciate the risks you took to help me out," Zack said, watching Kunsel's body language for any sign of softening as he spoke. "But you gotta realize that both Cloud and I have lost too many friends already. There's no way that the reward will outweigh the risks from here on out. Not when Cloud is this sick. I've learned this the hard way with what happened in Kalm."
There was no response from Kunsel, nor any softening of his anger. He remained rigid against the backdrop of the murky night of the city. Zack sighed to himself and began to walk away. Kunsel then spoke, his embittered tone stopping Zack for a brief moment.
"They were my men. And they were my friends, too, you know."
Zack tightened his grip on the folder and went back home to Cloud.
Zack awoke the next morning to his phone ringing. It took him several vital seconds to realize the number which was calling him was that of Dr. Arolin's office. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the pile of yesterday's clothing that he had discarded on the floor, before flipping open his phone with an eager greeting. He stepped out into his living room but stopped short when the voice on the other side was not Dr. Arolin, but was that of the receptionist. He stammered through his deflating hope and then listened to the receptionist as she explained Dr. Bleier had made a change to one of Cloud's medications. She instructed Zack to discard Cloud's current migraine medication, and to pick up the replacement prescription at the pharmacy. Zack barely listened to her after that, but she also informed him that Cloud had an appointment with Dr. Bleier later in the morning. He waited until the receptionist ended the call to slump down on his couch.
It took him a while to amp himself up enough to get moving, but soon he was picking up his discarded uniform and dressing. He took a moment to observe Cloud then, taking in how blank his expression was as he slept. Sometimes when Cloud was asleep, his brow would be furrowed in the slightest way, or his mouth parted to let escape the soft sounds he made while he dreamed. Sometimes he would be curled up with the blanket tucked around his chin, as if wrapping himself up in the security of Zack's bed. Other times he'd allow himself some freedom by having the blankets kicked down to his knees, or his limbs not so tightly clenched to his body. If Zack were to caress him, he'd be rewarded with Cloud nuzzling into his pillow, or maybe a brief twitch of his mouth as if he were smiling.
But now, as Zack watched him sleep, there was something creeping up from his stomach to his chest—a feeling like the person in his bed was a stranger. It branched throughout his body and rendered him immobile. Somewhere deep inside him, his rationale was attempting to defend itself against this invasion. He was telling himself that it was just a feeling, that Cloud was still Cloud, that this was just a temporary state for the both of them, and that time would heal all wounds.
Yet he couldn't save his rationale from succumbing, too.
Zack went to retrieve Cloud's new prescription, all the while trying to shake this feeling of unfamiliarity. It had too strong a hold on him to be able to shake it loose by the time he returned to his quarters. There he found the stranger still in his bed, and even when the stranger woke up for a brief moment and made eye contact with him, Zack was only able to return the gaze with a smile that he had prepared for mere passersby on the street.
Cloud accepted the smile and turned over on his side to continuing sleeping. He didn't stir when Zack swapped out his old medication for the new one, or even when he tossed it into a drawer in his bathroom with a loud rattle. Zack was able to rouse him with breakfast, but through that Cloud ate it without much character.
"Your migraine meds were changed," Zack finally said, moving to the bedside table. He picked up each bottle and read the instructions, then began preparing them for Cloud to take. When Cloud had no response, Zack could feel himself becoming immobile again. "I guess it had an interaction with one of these new ones."
Cloud chewed his food. He had a strange look on his face, but perhaps it was the fact that he was eating a spinach omelet.
"You also have an appointment with Bleier this morning. At ten."
That elicited a response, but only an uninterested hum.
Zack placed the morning doses on Cloud's tray. He waited to see whether Cloud would put up a resistance taking them, but one by one they were popped into his mouth and swallowed as if he were eating the side of grapes on his plate.
"You're gonna go, right?"
"Do I have a choice?" Cloud murmured.
Zack nearly jumped at both Cloud's voice, and the fact that he had actually given a verbal response. He sat down on the bed next to him, giving his leg a light touch. "Well, no, probably not. I think you and I have run out of both choice and leverage."
Cloud gave no real response. There was a slight drooping of his shoulders, and Zack thought he detected a soft sigh, but that was it.
"I know it sucks, but … it'll help," Zack said, reaching his hand up to lift Cloud's chin, but Cloud didn't allow him much of a tilt. "Hey, look at me."
His eyes remained downcast.
"C'mon, baby. Just look at me for a second."
Cloud jerked his chin away from Zack's hand, and instead of meeting his gaze, he looked to the window to avoid him completely.
Zack swallowed hard. He was feeling invaded again, and he scooted away without realizing. "Maybe after your appointment we can walk somewhere for lunch? If you're feeling up to it."
Cloud glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then stood and began to dress himself.
"Want me to come with you?"
"No," Cloud said. "It's okay."
Zack sat and watched, overwhelmed and seized by everything going through his mind. He continued to sit there, even as Cloud left the room to freshen up in the bathroom, and when he washed the dishes out in the kitchen in silence. He heard Cloud walk over and stand in the doorway, but Zack was too scared to turn around; he was afraid he would see someone he wouldn't recognize. When he finally did turn around, Cloud had already left for his appointment.
Every Monday brought with it its own sense of estrangement. The extensive questionnaires were filled out using familiar words Zack knew, such as: detached, lethargic, and emotionless; but used for a now unfamiliar person. Cloud's memory loss persisted. It was subtle at first, mainly showing up as vacant expressions followed with an unconvincing "oh yeah, I remember now," during conversations. As the Mondays came and went, Cloud's memory began fluctuating as much as his medications were. It seemed each week brought about a change in dosage and an even bigger change in behavior, but Zack was at a loss to which was causing the change in the other.
It started with simple mistakes such as getting dates and times incorrect, much like how Cloud had been doing before. Then it began manifesting in ways such as calling the microwave a "reactor" when he was unable to recall its proper name. At the grocery store, Cloud had a difficult time remembering the names of various fruits and vegetables, often waiting for Zack to fill in the blank for him.
One night when Zack had checked on Cloud in the shower, he had forgotten to turn on the cold water and instead resigned to scalding his skin. When questioned why or how he could possibly not think to turn on the cold, his sincere reply was an "I don't know." Zack then made sure he was the one to set the temperature before each time Cloud showered.
Zack had returned to his quarters to find it empty one day. He had searched the building for an hour before coming across Cloud standing in front of a barrack that was not his own. He was visibly disorientated, even when Zack approached and explained to him that he was on medical leave indefinitely, and that he wouldn't be returning to duty any time soon. Cloud's attempt at questioning and protesting this information came as disjointed sentences, as if he had just been awoken from a bad dream. He spent the rest of the night looking around at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time.
On some occasions he had talked about his friends as though they were still alive and would refer to all three in the present tense. And that was when he could, in fact, remember their names. Often he would pause before the name came from his hesitant lips, said with a voice heavy with uncertainty. And in the most mundane of moments, the memory of their deaths would hit him, like a boomerang that he had forgotten was thrown. The amount or quality of stimuli around him was never enough to protect him from this re-lived pain. He was vulnerable at all times.
All of this was presented to Dr. Bleier at first. For all the questions Zack had answered on these forms, he was getting no questions answered in return. Both the staff at the clinic and Dr. Bleier himself offered little help, and would always fall back on insisting that healing took time, as did it take time for the medications to work. Both Cloud and the medications were referred to as a delicate balance.
It didn't take long for Zack to notice certain triggers would affect that balance. He decided to take Cloud down into the Wall Market, as the bustling pace on the upper plate overwhelmed the boy the few times they did venture out. The Wall Market was usually tame by comparison, but that day it was alight with festivity. Both the Honey Bee Inn and the local gym had put on a Pride celebration of sorts, filling the entire area with food, games, flags of all colors, and equally colorful individuals celebrating their love and identities.
The Honey Bee Inn was even giving out free condoms and small bottles of lube in the shape of honey pots. With it, of course, was attached a calling card for their business, but Zack still accepted a bottle of cherry-flavored lube considering he couldn't find his strawberry-flavored one since they last used it in Kalm. Perhaps it was forgotten in the room before the rest of his belongings were gathered up by Cissnei, he had thought.
The festival was indeed a boisterous crowd, as with any event there was its fair share of alcohol consumption, but on the whole it wasn't by any means out of hand, nor gave any indication that anything would be of concern. Zack escorted Cloud about with interest, unaware at the time that provocations were lying in wait in the most innocuous of places. Whether it was the crowd bumping against him, the smell of the food, or just the sheer commotion of it all, Zack would never know for sure, but something had sent Cloud into hysterics. Every second which ticked by as Zack steered Cloud away from the gathering seemed to push him further into this delirium until he was on his knees down an alleyway, tucked against the wall and gagging until there was not an ounce of strength left in him. During the whole ordeal, Zack stood feeling useless by offering platitudes of "it's okay," and "please calm down."
It had taken twenty minutes for Cloud to rouse to his surroundings. When Zack finally asked him if he was all right, Cloud responded with the word "calm."
"Good," Zack had said, moving himself closer, but was terrified of touching him. "Do you know where you are?" he had asked as Cloud's gaze rolled to meet his before rolling away again.
"Calm," Cloud had said again.
But Zack wasn't sure if he meant calm, or Kalm.
It was that incident which prompted Zack to always carry at least a single pill of Cloud's anti-anxiety medication on his person at all times. It was that incident, and Dr. Bleier's warning that anything could be a trigger, which made Zack change over his laundry soap and deodorant to unscented, his shampoo and body wash to the most basic and bland of scents he could find. His cologne was tucked away deep in the recesses of his bathroom cabinets. He began cooking with the windows open and the exhaust fan on in both his kitchen and his bathroom in hopes that scents wouldn't linger.
The television was always at the lowest possible volume, and left on cartoons or a home shopping network—anything he could find that would have the least probability of triggering whatever it was in Cloud which triggered him. He removed the Shin-Ra magazines and newsletters from his coffee table and replaced them with one on chocobo breeds, and another on travel—careful to select an issue without mentions of Kalm. If they went out into the city, it was during slower times of the day between lunch crowds, rush hour, and dinnertime. Every shop or restaurant they entered was carefully selected by Zack with a single criteria: As empty of people and scents as possible.
He felt that everything around them was a landmine at that point, ready to go off if either of them took one wrong step.
Even at night when the gamble of the day was gone and they lay together in the safety of their bed, Zack was still cautious. Would something he'd say before they drifted off to sleep cause Cloud to relive Ratcliff's suicide in his dreams? Would making love to him infest his mind and body with the memory of being defiled by Mejia? Zack wondered.
Sex seemed to be the only time in which Cloud would find his way back to Zack. It was the only time when Cloud didn't need to remember anything except how to connect with another. It was a way for Zack to find Cloud again, too. There was familiarity in the warmth of Cloud's body, in the smell of his skin. The way Cloud moaned as Zack nibbled his earlobe, or the way he became unshackled as he orgasmed reminded him that his Cloud was still in there. There was no need for either of them to think or worry, only to feel and to be felt. It was as intrinsic as breathing, and became the only predictable comfort either of them had.
But that comfort was gone come morning. Cloud would become a stranger once more, navigating each day in a strange land, looking at Zack with a look of doubt which very much regarded Zack himself a stranger. It was frightening. So much so that Zack could no longer bring himself to be truthful on the reports to Dr. Bleier. Whether it was from his own denial, or a way to protect Cloud, he was unsure, but he began filling out each page with duplicated answers from previous reports. Detached, lethargic, and emotionless became: no change, no change, no change.
Zack was in the middle of filling out yet another report in the same haphazard manner he had adapted as of late. It was this type of wanton disregard that he reserved for dismissing certain authority, or orders which were just plain asinine, but now he applied this to answering a question on Cloud's current level of factual knowledge—whatever that meant.
To which Zack simply wrote: "He once told me that snails could sleep for three years."
He smirked to himself, amused by the various sarcastic responses he sneaked in throughout, most being contrived to entertain his querulous mood. Somewhere in the back of his mind he questioned whether or not his responses were actually read. Considering how none of this seemed to be helping Cloud, he very much doubted it was having any sort of effect at all, positive or negative.
He came upon a question asking to describe Cloud's response time. He knew what it meant in the context of psychological evaluation, but Zack couldn't resist replying with: "I wouldn't exactly place a bet on him if he were a jockey in a chocobo race."
Satisfied for now, with possibly a small twinge of regret, Zack stuffed the report in the kitchen drawer with the other truant reports for Dr. Arolin. He glanced at the clock. Cloud was due back from yet another appointment with Dr. Bleier, barring any incidents of becoming confused or lost along the way. He began to prepare an early dinner—a hearty chili packed with more variety of bean than he knew existed. He thought about adding spinach, but balked at the notion and instead opted for bigger chunks of red meat. Cloud was less likely to turn his nose at it this way, and the boy certainly needed the iron.
Dinner was nearly done simmering by the time Cloud walked in. He entered in an unsure fashion, pushing the door open wide enough to poke his head in first to confirm that he was indeed in the right place. His body followed with a shuffling gait, and to one not privy to his condition would be convinced he was intoxicated. He kept his eyes downcast, but Zack could see the plunge of dark circles against the blanching of his face, all beneath a sickly sheen of perspiration. He looked ready to drop.
Zack took no chances and was there at his side to help guide him in. He steadied him as he sank down onto the couch, then he lifted each of his legs to remove his boots with care. He gave Cloud's feet and calves a brief rub with his hands, watching Cloud's face in the corner of his eye for any signs of enjoyment, but it remained languid as if he were attending a lecture on different types of soil found in the wastelands.
"Hungry?" Zack asked, standing up once Cloud's head began to droop.
Cloud tugged his head up, blinking so heavily that his eyelids opened at different times. He hummed a meek sound with an upward inflection, one that Zack came to learn as being his new way of asking "What?"
Zack sighed and sat down next to him, close but not touching. "You always get like this after seeing Bleier," he mumbled, more to himself than to Cloud. He paused, nibbling his bottom lip in thought before standing up and moving to serve their dinner. "How was your session?" he asked loudly, and he saw that Cloud's head bobbed upward once. "Y'know you can always share what you talked about, if you want. If you're comfortable, I mean."
There was an incoherent mumble at first, but then Cloud pushed himself up on the couch from his slumping position and rolled his head toward Zack as he came around carrying the chili.
"S'fine," Cloud said, managing to make brief eye contact with Zack before his lids closed. "Did … hyp …" he was struggling to find the word. "Hypnnossis."
Zack firmly tapped Cloud on the arm a few times to keep him awake. "C'mon, eat." He grabbed Cloud's hand and pushed a bowl down into it, but held it in place. "You need to eat."
Cloud gave a single nod, and Zack wasn't sure if he was fighting sleep, or agreeing with him. But eventually Cloud forced his eyes open, looked down at his food in a daze, then picked up the spoon. He began eating slowly, battling with both the burden of chewing and staying conscious at the same time. One was clearly winning over the other.
Zack spoke in that same loud tone which seemed to be enough to keep Cloud awake. "So hypnosis, huh? Is that something he's been doing all along, or …?" Zack trailed off, trying to keep his tone neutral, although he was impatient to know more.
Cloud made another meek sound, but this time with a slight downward inflection which was his way of conveying yes.
But it was unclear to which part of the question Cloud was confirming.
Zack didn't push it any further.
As Cloud's bowl of chili dwindled down, he started becoming more alert. His hums and grunts even began to be more complex as Zack spoke. And talk Zack did, rambling on as fluently as he could, clearly grasping at topics to fill the silence and to keep Cloud engaged long enough to finish eating. Even as he took Cloud's bowl from him and served him a second helping, he didn't stop talking. Cloud accepted the bowl of seconds, this time reaching up for it himself instead of needing Zack to secure it in his grasp.
That was enough for Zack to shake off a bit of tension and allow for more natural conversation.
He found Cloud staring at the magazines on his coffee table as he chewed and listened. The one about travel was on top, so he reached over and pulled it between them. Cloud's gaze followed, so Zack opened and flipped through. He stopped at every article, pointing and commenting about the panoramas of the Wutaian mountains, the fjords in Icicle during summertime, to the exalted scarps of Cosmo Canyon. He took a moment to deviate from the magazine, reminiscing about his time deployed in Wutai as he then idly turned the pages. He went on to describe the glens of Banora, then began to conjure up the memory of Modeoheim.
"You remember Modeoheim, right?" Zack asked him, closing the magazine to draw Cloud's attention away from it.
Cloud took his time swallowing a mouthful of food. He licked his lips in slow motion, then pursed them, keeping them squeezed against his teeth for as long as he could before he met Zack's eager scrutiny. He swallowed again, this time with difficulty. He sputtered and gave a single cough before saying, "Yes."
There was relief in Zack's chest, but then was gone when Cloud looked unsure of himself.
"It's where we—" Zack began.
"—we met," Cloud finished quickly. His eyes crawled up again and found Zack's. The uncertainly remained on his face until Zack broke out into a smile. Cloud's mouth twitched, trying to reciprocate.
"That's right," Zack said softly. "It's where we first met."
Cloud let out a shaky breath, as if he had just survived a life-and-death situation.
Zack didn't notice. He was already reopening the magazine and tossing the pages aside until he reached an article he hadn't seen yet. It was on a comparison of the beaches of Costa del Sol and Mideel, and which would be better suited for the reader's theoretical vacation.
"Ocean …" Cloud murmured, his voice sounding weighted.
"Hey, yeah! Check 'em out," Zack said, pouring over the glossy spread. Zack gave a single dry scoff. "Costa del Sol's sand is not that white. It's been edited." He turned to look at Cloud, dipping his head low to get a good view of his down-turned face. "That's right, you've never been there."
"I've … never been there," Cloud echoed.
"Remember? We talked about it once."
Cloud's head lifted faster than Zack would have expected given his sluggish demeanor. He didn't look at Zack, but Zack could see his face held a mild strain.
"Yeah," Zack said slowly, responding to Cloud's silent unease as if it had been talking aloud. "It was some months back." He was quiet while he recalled their conversation; it had been so long that even he had trouble remembering it. "I had returned from that forced vacation to Costa. You said you had never been to Junon, so we talked about visiting one day together."
There was a loud clattering sound. Cloud jolted, the bowl in his hand nearly teetering over as he was bending toward the floor. He had dropped the spoon and it flipped from the bowl, now lying on the carpet between his feet.
Zack took the bowl from his hand before it, too, fell to the floor. "It's okay," he said, noticing how Cloud was in a state of panic over his dropped utensil. "I'll just grab you a new spoon. No biggie."
Cloud somehow jumped to his feet, despite his quaking. "I-I'll get it." He swung around the couch, nearly tripping over the corner of it but managed to balance himself long enough to reach the kitchen.
Zack set the magazine and bowl down on the coffee table, then retrieved the dropped spoon. He heard Cloud beginning to open and close drawers in search of the collection of utensils. "It's not like my carpet is pristine anyway, so don't worry about it," Zack announced over his shoulder, knowing too well how Cloud must have been fretting over it.
He heard a drawer open, but not close.
"Anyway," he said, voice upbeat. "Junon's nice, but cold. Damn do they have fantastic fish and chips, though!"
There was no response behind him. He turned to see Cloud standing completely still, and no where near the correct drawer for utensils. His head was aimed down, and his arms were in front of him. He was holding something, but Zack couldn't see.
He rose from the couch and approached, worry turning to fear as he saw the drawer he used as his filing cabinet was open against Cloud's body, its contents in plain view.
"Shit, Cloud, the spoons aren't in that one. You know that!" His eyes searched Cloud up and down, trying to take in his stiff body language and the stunned look he wore. His eyes then darted to what Cloud was holding.
It was the unfinished questionnaire in one hand. The document about the suicidal observation in the other. Zack, too, froze.
"I'm … not … suicidal," Cloud murmured.
"Cloud, lemme have the papers," Zack said calmly, although he was anything but calm. He reached toward Cloud's hands, attempting to slip the documents from between his fingers. Cloud's head pivoted towards him like a deer sensing danger. Zack pulled his hands back.
"I'm not suicidal," Cloud repeated, this time a little louder, his body now following his head in the same sharp movement.
"Just hand me the papers, okay?" He instructed, a wary tone now breaking through.
"I'm not suicidal." Cloud's voice was rising, cracking.
"Okay, okay …" Zack soothed, trying one more attempt at the documents.
Cloud jerked them back from his reach. "I'm not suicidal, Zack!"
Zack's hand fell to his side. He only stared at Cloud with sadness.
"You …" Cloud said, his shoulders beginning to rise and fall. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Zack took a half step toward him but stopped when Cloud took a full step back. "I do, Cloud," he said carefully, softly. "It's just that—"
"Why would I wanna kill myself, Zack?!" Cloud screamed. "Why would I wanna put you through the same pain I went through when—" He cut himself off, then took another step back. "… when … h-he … when he? Wh-who …" His eyes were wide, wild. His breathing now labored, raspy, pitching louder and faster as he searched the air for answers. The documents in his hands started rattling.
"Ratcliff," Zack spoke for him regretfully. "You mean the same way when Ratcliff died."
But Cloud didn't hear him. He was now facing the drawer again, head fixed forward. Only his eyes moved as they crept down, staring down his nose as though afraid to peer over the side of a cliff into an abyss below.
Zack's gaze followed the same path, with the same fear of oblivion.
They stared down at Zack's handwriting, ink forming careless letters for critical words.
… Cloud has yet to tell me about the incident in Kalm …
Cloud picked up the truant report, somehow rereading Zack's own words through the violent shaking of his body. His eyes were wide, unblinking. He was sucking in hysterical breaths.
"You … knew?"
Zack dared not speak. He only held his hand out for Cloud to hand over the documents.
"You … you …" Cloud took a step back, face glazed in horror. "You … knew? … You knew." His voice was growing delirious, his breathing now reaching an alarming rate. He stumbled backwards into the kitchen island. The papers remained gripped in his hands.
"I knew," Zack finally said.
"All—" Cloud wheezed. "All … this … ti … time?"
A moment's hesitation.
"Yes."
"You … lied …?"
"I didn't lie, Cloud."
Zack was now following Cloud as he braced himself against the kitchen island, using it to both hold himself up, and to lead himself further away.
"You … lied."
"Cloud," Zack said slowly, taking a step in tandem. "Let's go sit on the couch, okay?"
"You knew."
They were going in a circle around the kitchen island.
Cloud wheezed out something. It was incoherent.
"We can talk about this."
They continued in a circle.
"Just come with me, please."
"I … c-can't … I can't trust you," Cloud managed to say.
Zack began to follow faster, around and around.
"All of this was to help you, Cloud. I'm trying to make sure neither of us are in any sort of pain anymore."
"I can't trust you! I can't trust you!" He was now shouting with the last of his clarity, it being burned up like hydrogen ignited.
"Can't you hear what you're saying?!" Zack closed the gap, fingertips digging into his shoulders to stop him from circling any more.
Cloud thrashed upon restraint. He kicked and he screamed through the terror of memories that were consuming him.
"Dammit, Cloud, snap outta it!" Zack was shouting now. He refused to let Cloud go. He held him through his fury, through his waning strength, then embraced him through the sobbing and tears which followed.
"Y-You didn't need to know," Cloud sobbed into Zack's chest. "You didn't … need to …"
Zack began hushing him with tender words and a soft sway of his body. "Yes I did. If you have to hurt, I want to hurt with you." He spoke into his hair, hoping that what he was saying would reach him. His hand joined his words, smoothing over Cloud's head. "I don't want you to go through anything alone. You're not alone. You have me, Cloud. You have me."
"I …," Cloud murmured, delirious. "I have you."
"You will always have me, no matter what." Zack continued his swaying and looked down at the boy in his arms, then to the documents still gripped in his fists. The hand on Cloud's head began trailing down. "I don't want to see you hurt anymore." His fingers rolled over Cloud's knuckles and found the corner of the pages. He tugged slowly. "Let me have these, now. It's okay to let go."
Cloud flinched and shoved Zack away, knocking him off balance against the refrigerator. He tore at the documents in his hands, seething and blinded by more than rage. He turned and grabbed the open drawer, swinging his body to send the other reports scattering everywhere. Pieces of wood joined the papers, Cloud slamming it onto the counter, then the floor in a frenzy until nothing was whole except the lone handle still gripped in his hand. Whatever was within his reach, he ripped and decimated. When nothing was left, he began tearing at his own scalp, trying to claw at himself until he could reach his torment and destroy it, too.
Zack fell beside him, scrambling to grasp Cloud's wrists to stop him from further harming himself. He was pleading for him to stop, to listen, to let him help. He begged Cloud through shouts and tears, then whispers when nothing else worked.
"I don't want to forget," Cloud sobbed out between strained breaths. "I don't want to forget."
Zack felt Cloud's arms finally softening, lowering. "Forget what, Cloud?" He released his hold. Cloud's hands fell to the floor.
"I don't want to forget. I don't want toforget idontwanttoforget—"
He continued to repeat himself, faster, working himself up into another bout of mania.
Zack kept one hand on Cloud's back. The other fumbled for his cell phone in his pocket. He flipped it open, unable to see straight through the panic. He dialed the psychologist's number. "Stay with me, baby. I'll call Dr. Arolin, okay? Just, please, please stay with me!"
"Ar…o…lin?"
The line rang out. He redialed.
"… theparktheparkthepark," Cloud was now muttering, rocking in place.
There was no answer.
Cloud clambered to his feet. He stumbled immediately, nearly driving his head into the counter as he stood. Zack followed him, attempting to block him from leaving the kitchen, but backed away when Cloud swung at him. He broke out into the hallway without his boots, and he ran to the elevator, crashing up against the buttons. He jabbed at the Down button and watched the numbers at the top, sweat dripping off his face as fast as his breathing. He gave up pressing the button and moved to pounding on the metal doors.
Zack stayed back, watching the doors open, and then Cloud scrambling in. He fell against the wall of the cart and gripped his head as the doors closed. Zack watched the numbers light up for a moment before sprinting to the stairwell. He threw the door open and launched himself over the railing, falling to the landing below. He gripped the railing there, jumping over once more and dropping further below. Again he did this with each floor, wasting no seconds nor thoughts on what he was doing, and where Cloud was going.
He reached the ground floor and entered the lobby right as the elevators opened. Cloud pushed himself through a crowd of employees in wait and ran to the entrance. Zack chased after him, dodging people as he weaved through the lobby and out into Sector 0. He trailed close behind, reaching out to the boy as he slipped off a step during his rapid descent, but then managed to find his balance before continuing to race toward the junction leading toward Sector 7.
On he went, trotting for as long as he could until he stumbled to a halt to catch what little breath he was able. Zack dared not approach, merely followed and made his presence known to Cloud as often as he could. He made no acknowledgment of Zack, not even when he collapsed down to his hands and knees and hoisted back up again.
Zack could see the grit crumbling away from Cloud's palms, and dots of blood forming within the scrapes. It soon pooled together and began dripping onto the sidewalk, but went ignored as Cloud continued on.
They darted through streets, crossing against traffic and soliciting angry shouts and honks from the cars that nearly collided with them. The few pedestrians they came upon had the wherewithal to move out of the way, but not without voicing their own displeasure over the two men running rampant throughout the Sector. Soon, parents with strollers and children in tow filled the sidewalks, and Zack could only assume they were getting close to this park which Cloud fought to reach.
The sound of children laughing, and the rhythmic, metallic squeaks of swings could be heard as they rounded a corner. They came upon a park, one that Zack realized was the very park he had visited while on a date with Cloud. The memory of watching the stars together was stripped from his mind then, his brain only allowing for the chaos unfolding.
Cloud began making his way around the park, but would stop and backtrack as if unable to find what he was searching for. He looked between the benches where parents sat, observing their children as they played on the equipment, and with each other. Most took immediate notice of both Cloud and Zack, some slipping to the edges of their seats, ready to scoop up their children should these two outsiders cause issue. Their gaze remained on them, even as Cloud backed up and went to head in another direction.
A bench was honed in on once Cloud spotted it. It was a bench by a sandbox that he had already scrutinized several times in his search, but this time it registered that it was the one he had been looking for. He approached it slowly. It was empty, save for a thin layer of sand collected around the legs, and shriveled orange peels long forgotten beneath the seat. He lowered himself onto it, all muscles in his body in dire deficit of the what little energy he had left, and should not have squandered. There was no color in his skin, not even after the exertion of fleeing.
Zack slid onto the bench beside him, keeping a buffer between them, yet he could feel Cloud's feverish state emanating from his body. He waited. For what, he didn't know. But now he was afraid to make any sudden movements, or say anything.
Children were squealing and running around, oblivious of them as they sat together.
It was a while before Cloud spoke. He sat staring at the sandbox with unblinking eyes, and uneven breath.
"She's gone," he said.
Zack looked to him, swallowing hard. He allowed himself to scoot a little closer.
"Who's gone, Cloud?"
He waited for Cloud to respond. But he didn't; his panic was returning.
"Dr. Arolin?" Zack finally asked.
Cloud was fixated on the sandbox.
Zack turned to see a little dark-haired boy sitting and digging a hole in the sand alone.
… to be continued in Chapter Sixty-Four: In Those We Trust.
Author's Note: HOW 'BOUT DAT NEW TRAILER WHICH DROPPED TODAY? CLOUD BEING TURNED INTO A FROG! DARTS AS A MINI GAME! THE SQUAT COMPETITION! AERITH LOOKING TOTALLY GORGEOUS IN HER DRESS! DON FREAKING CORNEO! THE TURKS! THAT MYSTERY SOLDIER (I'm claiming it's Kunsel until I'm proven otherwise)!
So this chapter is being released in celebration of the trailer. I'm freaking out big time and can hardly contain my mirth. :D
But yeah, have you ever looked at someone you've known for a really long time and just get struck with an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity? Like suddenly "holy shit who is this person" and you feel like you're with a stranger? Is it just me? Because that's what happened to Zack in this chapter. All this bad shit is consuming him and his stress is making him feel irrational. He needs to get into a better head space to deal with both Cloud's situation, and his own. But damn is it hard sometimes, eh?
Also, Zack, you should probably consult Ignis on how to get stubborn boys to eat their veggies. I'm sure he has plenty of tips from dealing with Noctis. :O
Also also, the mention of Cloud forgetting the names of fruits and vegetables is a nod to one of the official novellas. I think I recall reading how Cloud wasn't familiar with the names of vegetables and stuff, and I always found it rather funny and endearing. Now I'm imagining Cloud in that "is this a pigeon" meme but with like...an eggplant or something.
Oh, and the bit about Zack filling out sarcastic answers in the medical form was based off a time I got so fed up with filling shit out for worker's comp doctors that I wrote in super sarcastic responses, including the snails sleeping for three years when I was asked of my factual knowledge. Another time I was asked what kind of childhood I had, to which I responded: "It was a Nintendo childhood."
Needless to say, my responses were in fact read, and the doctor was like "So explain that to me, please."
Oops.