Cloud was already halfway across the abandoned parking lot, clutching his shoulder. The sword was sheathed, and Denzel broke into a run to catch up to him. The sky was pasty yellow, a smear of haze. Thunder rolled in, echoing beneath the clouds.

"Were you really going to hurt her?" Denzel asked.

Cloud looked straight ahead, pressing his palm against the puncture wound. Denzel had forgotten how badly Cloud had been hurt by Yuffie's men. He held out the restore materia like an offering.

Cloud paused and took it, but he didn't use it. He just put it into his pocket.

"Yuffie wanted you to have that," Denzel said. "See? She cares about you."

"I know," Cloud replied. "And no, I wasn't going to hurt her."

They crossed beyond the rotting wood of the perimeter fence for the lot. This was an area of Junon Denzel had never seen. It was far behind the tiers, the old hospital at the end of a road filled with deteriorating brick buildings that looked like barracks. A vestigate of its military history. And completely vacant, like it had been stripped out of a horror movie.

Cloud trudged forward, still on high alert. Once they were clear of the fence, Cloud cut sharply into the small footpaths between the brick buildings. Denzel looked back at the hospital, but nobody was in pursuit. Far off, a siren howled.

"Where are we—?"

"You should've listened to me," Cloud snapped. "You should've gone home when I told you to."

The sudden rebuke scared him.

"Do you have any idea how badly you could've been hurt?" Cloud said, walking faster. He squeezed his shoulder and inhaled with pain. The injury had been aggravated by their escape. Denzel wondered why he didn't just use the restore.

"I'm sorry," Denzel tried, but Cloud wasn't having it.

"We're both very lucky we happened to run into each other. If I hadn't found you…"

"But you did." It was a simple conclusion.

Cloud sighed. "I know."

Then he stopped. Denzel stopped, too, but nothing was out of place. Wind rustled garbage through the deserted barracks. The decay around them was silent aside from the ambient city noise ahead.

"I need you to hide," Cloud whispered. "Right now."

Denzel was about to protest because surely he could be useful. Cloud's sword had renewed his courage, but the look on Cloud's face told him he'd better keep his mouth shut and do as told.

So he hid in the empty doorway of an adjacent brick building, crouching low in the overgrown grass. From his vantage point, he could see the entire street where Cloud stood.

Three men approached from the city, but they weren't wearing the black uniforms of Godo's troops and they didn't mean any harm. They bowed to Cloud in deference. The man in the front looked familiar. The short dark hair, the gaunt face. The daggers… Yes, this was the man with the needle-grin, the one who'd nearly beaten him to death at that Junon bar.

Denzel grit his teeth, seething with raw jealousy as Cloud spoke with this man. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it burned him deep. He wanted Cloud to hate this man just as much as he did. As he watched, the man's posture changed. Cloud was angry about something and the needle-grin became submissive, harmless. It was amazing how much control Cloud had over them. Denzel wished he had that type of power, especially over people like needle-grin who'd hurt him so bad.

Movement caught his eye. A figure wearing black was scaling the building in the opposite alleyway, silent and quick. Then it disappeared into the darkness of an open window three stories up.

He looked back at Cloud, but none of the group had noticed.

Just as he was about to warn them, half a dozen masked soldiers appeared from the hospital path. Cloud drew his sword, and the troopers surrounded them, weapons out. There was no hesitation. Cloud's companions attacked and the troopers engaged. All at once, the street erupted into fighting, and Denzel was locked with indecision. He wanted to rush in and help, but nobody had seen him yet and that kept him safe. Cloud deflected two attackers then stabbed a third. The needle-grin man moved fast, slicing apart one trooper at all the soft spots in his armor, cutting tendons and joints.

But the shadow… Denzel saw something shine up in the window where he thought he'd seen another figure. Yes, a glint shimmered for just a second. The sight lens of a rifle.

Cloud was preoccupied with the masked men on the ground, and his subordinates hadn't noticed the other threat. This was Denzel's opportunity to help.

Slinking along the edge of the building, he rushed across the street well outside the circle of violence. One of the troopers spotted Denzel and made for him, but Cloud intercepted, clashing blades and giving Denzel enough time to disappear into the brick building.

The interior was dark and most of it had collapsed inward. There was no way to access the upper levels from within. He went back outside and found the area where the figure had ascended. The facade was pockmarked and crumbling just enough to create small footholds. He shoved Cloud's sword into his belt and tested his grip. Anxiety wanted him to move slow, but there was no time. He had to get to the gun in the window. He breathed out and climbed, not allowing himself a single look down.

The muscles in his arm were trembling as he pulled further up. He heard shouts and screams and metal hitting metal below, but he didn't dare stop. If he stopped he would never start again. At last the third window was at his fingers. He gripped the empty pane, searing pain cutting into his palms from the remnants of broken glass, and hauled himself into the building.

Except he was too far from the gunman. He was on the correct floor, but the target was several paces away, leaning over into the scope of a long rifle, entirely focused on the battle below.

His arrival had gone unnoticed, and he withdrew Cloud's sword. The floor was open and empty, cleared out years ago and left to ruin. He crept towards the gunman, blade raised.

Then his nerves kicked in. What was his plan? To kill this man? To shove him out the window perhaps? He didn't know. He just needed to make sure that gun didn't go off. His palms stung and bled all over the hilt. It was impossible to close the distance faster since the rotting wood floor was not to be trusted. He took another careful step.

BLAM!

The gun went off. It was muted, but Denzel heard it like a thunderous death sentence.

"No!" he screamed without meaning to.

The gunman turned in surprise. Denzel charged. He was out of time and couldn't allow the man to reload that monstrous weapon.

The sword came down just as the gunman opted for a serrated shortsword, and the blades locked. Denzel clenched his teeth and threw his weight into it, but the other man was strong and kicked him hard in the stomach. He fell, the wind knocking out of him, against the open window.

He glanced down to the street, and everything in him turned to ash.

The world stopped. Cloud lay in a pool of blood, sword fallen and forgotten. An oval had torn open his chest. The others were still fighting, the masked men were almost vanquished, but none of that mattered. Cloud was…

No, he couldn't face it. He couldn't believe it could be true. His horror boiled into rage. He turned in a fury to the gunman, who was reloading the rifle for another lethal shot. He'd never felt anything so intense in his life. There was nothing but the pure focus of destruction in his veins. He wanted to kill this man more than anything. To make him hurt. The sword became a single extension of that desire.

He didn't remember rushing forward or swinging the sword as many times as he did, but suddenly he was on top of the gunman, straddling the body as Cloud's sword eviscerated the man's face and throat, his neck, his shoulders. Again and again. Denzel couldn't stop. He was screaming and crying and engulfed in something that would not let him go.

Finally, the gunman's torso was a pile of flesh and bone. Blood covered Denzel. He felt it on his face. He was out of breath. The muscles in his arms were burning. It didn't register what he'd done. He stood in a daze, wiping the blade clean on the dead man's pants. Numbness swept over him.

Outside, the fighting was over. He climbed out the way he'd come in and ran into the street.

Cloud lay in exactly the same position as before, facedown, bleeding out. The needle-grin man was crouched nearby.

"Get away from him!" Denzel shouted.

All of Godo's troops were dead, and two of the subordinates were severely injured, clutching wet stab wounds or cradling a broken wrist.

Denzel collapsed at Cloud's side, tears blurring his vision.

"So you're the kid," the needle-grin said. He motioned for the other subordinates to leave.

Nothing mattered. Denzel rolled Cloud over and fell back at the shock of the wound in his chest. The bullet had gone clean through. Pink tissue glistened in the hole of thick red. Denzel broke apart, unable to comprehend that he was seeing Cloud's lungs.

A sudden spurt of blood dribbled from Cloud's mouth.

Denzel's heart leapt. The despair cleared away.

"Cloud!" He leaned forward, tears trailing into his smile. "Cloud, you're alright!"

"D… Dax?" The single syllable was faint on Cloud's lips.

"N-no. It's Denzel..." he replied, confused. Who the fuck was Dax?

Cloud swallowed and took a breath. He opened his eyes a sliver.

"Denzel? Oh…"

The chest wound bubbled and wheezed. Cloud grabbed onto Denzel's shoulder and rolled to one side. He coughed painfully.

The needle-grin man was right there. Denzel hated him even more somehow.

"Dax…" Cloud said again.

"Yeah, boss."

Then Denzel knew this was needle-grin's name. Dax. The person Cloud was calling for. Denzel sat stunned as Cloud pushed himself up from the concrete. There was so much blood it seemed impossible he wasn't dead.

"We're...running out of time," Cloud wheezed. "The hospital… Godo is there."

"I understand, sir," Dax replied, not nearly in as much shock as Denzel was.

"If we strike...tonight…" Cloud could barely speak through all the liquid in his throat.

"Of course, sir."

"Godo's daughter… She's mine. Don't…" A cough interrupted him, thick and wet. Cloud's skin had become a sickly pale.

"Yes, sir." Dax bowed.

"Get… away from me now." Cloud struggled to breathe. "I'll be...fine."

Dax exchanged a doubtful look with Denzel, but did not disobey. He departed, disappearing towards the city. Once Dax was gone, Cloud fell back, exhausted and coughing. Denzel didn't know what to do. He was scared that Cloud would die after all.

"I thought...I told you to… go home," Cloud whispered.

The blood soaking down his chest was not letting up.

"You're really hurt," Denzel said, stifling his panic. "Are you really going to be okay?"

He'd never seen Cloud this hurt or anyone survive this level of injury before. Cloud closed his eyes and shoved himself upright again, leaning on his arms. It was clear he was in excruciating pain. With one bloodied hand, he withdrew the restore materia from his pocket.

"The gunman…" Cloud said.

"I-I got him. I went up there and I fucking got him," Denzel answered smiling. He'd done the right thing for once. Cloud couldn't be angry.

"Good. You did good…"

The materia sparked to life in Cloud's hands. A stream of green light swirled around the hole in his chest, sealing it up and restoring his lungs. It was beautiful and bright. Then it truncated, dying instantly as Cloud began coughing.

"Cloud?"

He kept coughing as he stood, arms across his abdomen. The materia went dark. At length, he stopped. The healing wasn't complete, though. His skin was raw where the gunshot had been, and the puncture in his shoulder hadn't fully sealed.

Cloud took a deep breath, then looked at Denzel as though nothing had happened.

"Let's go. I'm still bringing you home to Kalm today."

"Wait, what? No, what just happened to you? The materia. I thought…"

"Materia makes me sick sometimes," Cloud said. "I don't know why."

He picked up his sword, wavering a bit on his feet.

"Whoa, wait, you are not okay," Denzel insisted. "You just nearly bled out in the street! You can't seriously expect me to go home now!"

"I'm fine. And you need to leave Junon. Can't you see it's not safe right now? Especially not with me." Cloud held out his hand to Denzel. "Sword."

Denzel handed it over, feeling significantly less in control. Cloud sheathed the weapon and began walking towards the city, motioning for Denzel to follow. It felt strange leaving the corpses of Godo's men in the street like this, but there was nothing else they could do. Staying in one place for too long was dangerous. More of Godo's troops would no doubt arrive soon.

"This is why I can't go back to Kalm with you," Cloud said as they entered the slums.

They both looked a mess, covered in sweat and stinking of blood, yet nobody paid them any attention. Cloud's clothing was dark enough that the red didn't stand out too much.

"I can't put Marlene in danger," Cloud continued.

Denzel argued as they walked, telling Cloud about Marlene's nightmares, about how desperately she wanted to see him. He suggested Cloud lay low from Godo's troops in Kalm. He begged. He pleaded. Nothing worked. Cloud would not be dissuaded.

The upper tier was filled with the usual crowds, blissfully unaware of the turmoil tearing apart the city's underworld. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, Denzel had been vehemently telling Marlene that Cloud was an awful person and that he'd never wanted to see the man again. Now, he couldn't imagine being without him. Cloud had saved his life twice. If that wasn't proof that Cloud still cared for him, he didn't know what was.

Almost losing Cloud in that street between the brick barracks had done something to Denzel. It made him realize just how much he cared for Cloud, too. Loved him, even.

"Will I ever see you again?" Denzel asked sadly as the airship terminal came into view. He wanted to say that he missed Cloud, too, but it seemed childish.

"I don't know," Cloud said.

Denzel stifled a cry. Cloud noticed. He signed and paused just outside the ticket queue.

"Look," Cloud spoke gently, "You know who I am. That day in Icicle Inn… all of this now in Junon. You know this is my life. I can't just flip a switch and go back to pretending."

Denzel felt tears building. His face grew hot. He looked away. Cloud was right. This whole mission to 'bring Cloud home' had been silly. Cloud was already home.

"I'm sorry, Denzel."

They waited in the queue to buy a ticket. A terrible silence settled between them amid the bustle of the station. Cloud purchased a single seat on the next flight to Kalm via Edge, which was departing shortly. Just Denzel's luck. Then they waited in the next line to board. It made him feel sick to divorce himself from Cloud after all they'd been through today.

"I'll stay with you until the airship arrives," Cloud said, as if trying to ease the pain.

Denzel had resigned himself to this fate, and misery was taking precedence.

"Marlene won't ever believe me," he mumbled, not caring how pathetic it sounded.

Cloud gazed at him in deep contemplation, as if considering something important. Then he reached to the neck of his shirt and pulled a long silver chain out. It was a necklace he'd been wearing, concealed under his clothes. He lifted it free then extended it out to Denzel.

"It was Tifa's," Cloud explained. "I gave it to her long ago. But... " He dropped the trinket into Denzel's hand. "It's for Marlene. So she'll believe you."

Looped on the chain was a silver ring, unblemished and well-worn, engraved with a wolf emblem. Denzel recognized it, and his heart skipped. It was Tifa's. She'd worn it everywhere! Or she had until Cloud left. He didn't dare ask how Cloud got it back, though he had a pretty good idea. Denzel closed his fist around the jewelry. Tifa's presence swarmed around it like static.

Then Cloud hugged him. It was a brief but wonderful moment.

The airship arrived, and it was time.

It was hard to leave, especially when he saw the melancholic smile on Cloud's face in their final goodbye. Dread weighed heavy in that expression, like a calm before a storm. Denzel boarded and took a seat by the windows.

He peered out at the city, searching the crowds below for one last glimpse of Cloud. But it was clear there was nobody out there for him. Cloud had already left.