Chapter 15
He was walking through darkness. All around him, he could see nothing that defined this place, nothing to show where the nothingness began and the nothingness ended. Around him he could hear the echo of footsteps, distorted by emptiness, and he couldn't tell if they were his or not. He wanted to stop and listen to see if the steps continued, but he didn't. He did not want to know, not really.
Slowly, he realized, he could see something up ahead. No, that wasn't right. There was still nothing to see; too many shadows still lay between here and the end. But he could feel something up there, away, and he knew that someone was waiting for him there, somehow.
He wondered, detachedly, if he'd finally found Elena and Rude. It felt like he'd been looking for them for so long now. But how was he supposed to find them in the darkness? Strange, that he'd never wondered that before. But still, if he kept walking, kept moving through the dark than he would have to get there eventually.
Only, the steps sounded strange in his ear. Chancing a glance down, he saw his feet moving differently, not forward, but Back. He realized he'd been walking backwards for longer than he could remember. He tried to struggle, tried to gain control of his own movements, failed. He felt panic rising as each step carried him further away from the end, further Back.
But back was okay. He wouldn't mind going back. That was when he had been happiest, he supposed. Back when he'd felt anything at all. But no, he wasn't just going back; he was going Back, and that scared him more than anything else could have. Again, he fought to run, to scream, to die if it would help, but nothing changed in the dark and the shadows. Each step sounded fainter now, further away, although how that could be he didn't know. All he felt now was fear and anger, because to go Back would mean that eventually he'd have to go forward again, and this time it would kill him.
And then, he wasn't moving anymore, and though the darkness ahead of him hadn't changed, he knew that the nothingness had wrapped itself around him, closing the way. Slowly, he turned.
He was standing on the edge of a lake, so close that the slightest quick movement could send him falling in. He wanted to step back, but when he moved to, something in the water caught his attention. As he tried to see what it was, it occurred to him that he couldn't be standing by a lake, certainly not a real one. There was no lake in Midgar.
Had he been in Midgar? No, he hadn't, so of course the lake was here. He had left Midgar. But that didn't make sense either, because you didn't leave Midgar. He remembered distantly watching it fade away behind him, but he couldn't be certain if he'd dreamed it or not. He realized, then, that he'd never felt hurt, or lost, or anywhere but the nowhere. Quickly, he reached into his pocket and felt his fingers close around something small, hard, and infinitely cold. When he pulled it out, he stared at a perfect miniature of the city of lights and night. It was strange, because it was two cities at once; the one it had been and the one it was now, but that made sense too when he thought about it. No, he understood now that he couldn't leave it, not really, but in a moment of panic he lashed out and watched as the tiny city hit the water of the lake without a ripple.
There was no lake in Midgar, but now Midgar was in the lake, right where it had always been. He couldn't see it anymore after that, because although the water was clear it was dark. Still, he knew that it was there, not at the bottom, but everywhere.
When he looked again, he could see the thing that had caught his attention before, and better this time. The colors below shifted and changed; first a lazy orange, then a brilliant red. Something was burning down there, he could see it. When he bent over to try to see what it was, the world shifted perspective and everything became hazy.
Now, he was under the water. He could feel fingers digging into his shoulder, holding him down as he fought half-heartedly to regain the surface. He could feel the cold water pressing all around him, and he suddenly realized that everything else had just been the misfiring of his oxygen-deprived brain. He'd been here, in the cold, drowning for a long time. And now, he knew he was going to die and he fought because he didn't like that end. Not here. Even the nothingness was better than this.
He struggled, and tried to see who it was that was doing this. The water lapped above him, hiding most of the face of whoever it was. She was a woman, with strange eyes. More than that he couldn't see. Was she the one who'd been waiting for him at the end of the shadows? Was this where everything inevitably led? But no, this was the Back he'd been terrified of, and she'd been with him, like Midgar, with Midgar, every step of the way.
He could feel the world darkening now, and he wished that he had his blue jacket, because even if nothing else would help him, it would. At the very least, it would numb the cold. He'd lost it down here, though, somewhere, and he looked around to see if he could find it. And yes, there it was, just as he remembered it, sinking ever so slowly down towards the bottom. And strangely, it was burning. Of course, that had been what he'd seen – but he hadn't seen it, had he – and it burned always without being consumed.
With a last desperation he was happy to feel, he reached out for it, tried wildly to pull it to him. At first, he'd thought he'd fail. But then, suddenly, he felt his hand brush it, and he tried to grab hold of it, but it singed his hand where it made contact. He tried to yell, but no sound came from the depths. He pulled his hand back, feeling the pain buzzing through him, and when he looked at it, it was burning too. No, not just that. All of him. He was burning. And still the icy fingers above never relaxed their grip, and, the pain searing through him, he tried one last time to fight back.
He felt his hands come into contact with the woman's shoulders, and push weakly, too weakly, and then she was drowning beneath the water and he was the one holding her down. He wasn't burning, either – of course not. When had that been? But he could see the woman now, or at least see her eyes. He stared at her as he felt her stop struggling, felt all resistance leave. Blank green-brown eyes stared up at him from the water, from an icy, pale face.
He'd seen drowned people before – he'd seen just about every kind of dead person before – but for some reason horror and disgust tore through him and he jerked his hands away as if he'd been burned. Had he been burned? No, that wasn't it. He was trembling all over again, but he had to look to know if he was crazy, if she'd be gone the next time he looked. He hoped he was insane. But she was still there, just below the surface, watching him with her dead eyes.
That was when he truly knew he was Back. The order was wrong, but he felt it more than anything else in this isolated world. He knew, then, what happened next, and he felt the coldness below his shoulder blade where he knew the dagger would drive in. He closed his eyes and hoped he died fast.
The sensation of the cold metal, and the pain that followed drew an involuntary gasp, and his body went rigid.
Reno opened his eyes.
He was in the dark again. Only, this time, as his eyes adjusted, he was in a place he recognized. His room, actually. How had he gotten here? He didn't really remember that well. Only that sometime in the past couple of hours he must have gotten back, although how and when he hadn't a clue. He felt terrible, he realized next. A quick check confirmed that his hands were no longer shaking, but he felt cold and sick, and more than a little like his head had fallen off somewhere along the way.
Looking around, Reno observed that he was sitting against the wall next to his door. Hadn't made it as far as his bed, apparently. Well, better here than elsewhere. He was willing to wager that it would be a rather bad idea to let Valentine know that he wasn't holding together as well as he'd hoped. No, definitely a bad idea. And the kid would also definitely be better off not knowing. He was just going to have to hope that he'd had enough brain cells working to avoid them when he'd gotten back here. If not, well, there might be some awkward questions and, worst- case scenario, Valentine might decide he was no longer useful.
Slowly, using the wall as something to steady himself with, Reno slid his way back into the world of the standing. He felt light-headed and sick as he did so, and a weird ringing in his ears didn't help much either. The dizziness was manageable, however, so he made his way very slowly and very carefully towards the bed. The first step was the worst, but once he got the momentum he made it over quickly and without problems. Reno collapsed with some degree of relief onto the bed, just letting himself enjoy the contrast to the hard wall. His back was not going to be his friend in the morning.
Speaking of morning, what time was it? Weren't the three of them supposed to be leaving at dawn? Quickly, Reno looked to the clock for reassurance. And found none. Bright, bleary red letters proclaimed that it was just after three am, and Reno immediately pushed himself somewhat regretfully back off the bed.
""Shit..."
Very little time to waste. He hadn't been out for that long, but too long all the same. On the bright side, he had very little to pack since he hadn't actually brought anything, but he would have to appear at least marginally alive and competent.
Alright, what he really needed was a change of clothes and a stiff drink. Still, unless he really wanted to steal Valentine's clothes again, both of those were no-goes. Damn. Well, it couldn't really be helped. The only bright side was that the next destination on the travel itinerary was Costa del Sol, and if you couldn't get some good hard liquor there than the world was ending. Again.
The next pressing question was why was this happening to him now? If it had happened in Midgar, it wouldn't have been that much of a problem. Then again, it might have seen him well and truly dead, but that was besides the point. Why now? The easy answer was that it wasn't just now. It had happened in Midgar before, and Reno knew it. It was the typically easy way out to just deny everything and blame it all on the fact that he hadn't had a decent drink since he started hanging around Valentine. Undoubtedly that was a good part of it, but he knew he'd just be lying to himself if he pretended it was all.
Whatever. Turks didn't have nervous breakdowns or whatever they were. Sure, he'd had a rough time after Meteor when Shinra hadn't been around to pump enhancer shit through his veins. But that was a long time ago, and six months had been long enough to clear his system of the dilute Mako drugs. So why? If someone said stress, he'd have just laughed. Stress? He'd been through a hell of a lot worse than this many, many times before. Hadn't he? Of course. With every mission he'd laid his life on the line, and there was no job like that for someone who'd crack under pressure. Along with Tseng and Rude, he'd been one of the coolest Turks Shinra had seen in decades. Right.
Well, for the short term at least, it wasn't anything to worry about. Alright, maybe it was. But he didn't have the time to worry now about anything other than finding Elena and Rude, and then getting the hell back home. That was his job, and it was what he owed the two of them as fellow Turks. Nothing else concerned him. Other people could deal with the rest of the crap; this was all that mattered, and then he could go back to the shadows where he was happiest. Either that or he'd be dead.
Reno got to his feet again, feeling a little better now. He looked pale, and his blue eyes glittered darkly in the lightless room, but at least he felt he could make it across the room okay now. Definitely a lot better. Well, it was time to move and get ready, or Valentine would start to suspect something was wrong. There was no time to delay because every hour they wasted was one too many, and somewhere out there Rude and Elena were waiting.
It was a now-or-never situation, and there was no going Back now.
It was late morning in Midgar, and the weak sunlight washed across the concrete, giving it a faded, white look. The day was overcast, but the worst of the weather patterns had avoided the area. The day was warm and almost unpleasantly humid despite being so far north. An out-of-season wind blowing up from Mideel had slowed the progress of the blinking, bustling city.
Cloud surveyed what they had to get done that afternoon as the work crew set up for a hard day's effort. Ropes had already been set up around the perimeter to warn away pedestrians who risked getting injured in the clean up, and the dark orange uniforms of the crew made them easily visible. Cloud, who had set up the group originally, although now it was officially backed by Reeve, had chosen the color. It didn't remind him of anything. He didn't smile now as he looked around at the debris filled area, although normally he let himself become completely absorbed in any project. This was, however, the second last major area clean up left before everything was finally finished. Then it would all be packed up neatly and shipped off to Corel and Gongaga before heading to Wutai, Rocket Town and Mideel. There was just so much to do.
He'd left this place until very nearly last, though.
Standing on the edge of the playground outside of Sector Six in the area that had once been called Wall Market, Cloud was alone. No one spoke to him as they set up the exit way for the cement trucks, assuming he was assessing the damage. They were mostly right.
Cloud cast a long shadow in the light as he stared at the crushed swing set, twisted and bent beneath a slab of metal that had fallen from the sky what seemed so long ago. The white children's slide with the grinning cat's face stood with a beam sticking out of it at a sharp angle. One eye was smashed, while the other still watched with a kind of eternal optimism, weathered by the rain and winds.
Cloud looked at it, and felt nothing.
They would take it all away, and it would be gone like all the rubble over what had once been Sector Seven. They would rebuild it of course: Midgar needed more places for children, and it would be bigger and better than ever before. Cloud remembered sitting on top of the slide, and thinking that the world looked awfully far away, despite how close to the ground he was. He remembered climbing those steps, and his hand twitched involuntarily at the memory of the tough white plastic under his fingers.
They would expand the sandbox the slide stood in, put in a bigger one so that the children would come here to play again. Maybe it was a lost cause; people said the place was haunted now, he knew. No matter how long ago they'd carted away the last of the rubble, or how long ago they'd put the finishing touch on the last house, no one had forgotten Sector Seven. They said ghosts walked here, and Cloud almost believed them. He remembered when they'd been digging through Sector Seven as the first major project, and how he'd felt a coldness deep inside him when he found a broken, torn piece of the sign that had once said Seventh Heaven. Maybe ghosts didn't walk here, but memories did, and they were much the same.
There was only one place left after this, and no one questioned why it was last. Unlike the rest, it wouldn't be torn down. No matter how broken and forgotten it was, it would be fixed up to the beauty of what it had once been, and then it would be forgotten. Cloud had already given instructions that all scaffolding to reconstruct the roof or put in new glass windows was in no way to disturb the flowers.
Standing in the sand, looking at the little white slide, Cloud felt nothing and said nothing. It would change because everything had to change, he knew. They would tear down the smiling cat, and the plastic that had made it, what could be saved, would be melted down and used, unknown, somewhere where it would never be seen or remembered again. He turned, to give the go ahead.
Before he spoke, something caught his attention out of the corner of one eye. A flash of white, and nothing more. Frowning slightly, Cloud turned back and best down to see what it was. Everything but the largest and most dangerous beams had already been cleared away. A piece of paper fluttered lightly, trapped under a corner of the slide. Almost involuntarily, Cloud reached out slowly, the back of his hand brushing the white plastic in a way that made something lurch inside him. Shutting it out, he pulled the paper loose and turned it over.
A photograph stared up at him, shades of brown and black. For a moment he felt cold again, the way he had that day, many months ago. He stared at the little picture, silent, beside the little slide.
"Hey, boss? Everything okay?"
A tall man with brown hair in an orange uniform looked concerned. Cloud stood up quickly, slipping the photo into his pocket. He smiled and headed back towards the waiting workers.
"Everything's fine. We should be good to go."
He kept smiling, but he did not watch as they tore down the little slide. And in the shadows of his pocket, a photograph lay that matched one burned into his memory. A tall silver haired man stood, arms crossed loosely over his black coat, beside him a smaller woman with dark brown hair and a cowboy hat grinned. Cloud walked away with only the coldness following him.
On the other side of the photo stood a man with black hair and dark, smiling eyes. He stared out, the hint of a smile resonating with a memory that he knew was false, but that still whispered deep inside.
Across the bottom was printed in careful black letters; "Don't Forget."
They left as first light found the darkened streets. The three of them made an odd group, although there was no one around to see them. The city streets were oddly silent after the strange attack only hours earlier. Sticking to the fading shadows, Vincent, Deth and Reno moved quietly and quickly away from signs of light and life, and not even Deth talked to fill the silence.
Their footsteps made no sound on the pavement as they went; the glimmer of color on the horizon seemed to suck away all sound. With the city still wrapped mostly in dark blue, everything felt wide and empty and hollow. Particularly, the roads and paths leading towards the ocean seemed the most peaceful and calm. There was no hostility in the quiet morning, not even the watchfulness or the tense anxiety of the evening before. No trace of anything that had happened remained, just as no trace of the passage of three silhouettes would be left when daylight spilled back across the familiar streets.
Reno was conflicted.
He walked with his head down as their way led them slowly away from the center of the city; it was much too dangerous to take a chance on the main harbor where they'd come in. There was a smaller ship yard outside of the city, run by an independent shipping company that specialized in trade between Corel and Junon, although Costa del Sol was a major supply stop on most trips. Vincent had suggested it, and Reno had not asked how he knew.
Valentine was more of a mystery than he'd ever guessed, and Reno had always considered himself good at reading people. He always knew when to laugh, when to be serious, when to lie. But Valentine... he was something else. Every Turk honed instinct in Reno screamed that he shouldn't trust the gunman more than he absolutely had to, but something else whispered that there was more here than met the eye. True, Vincent had been an enemy as part of AVALANCHE, and then again only days ago – it seemed insane how fast things were happening – but... But what? He didn't know.
Mostly it was what had happened back at the apartment. Even here, running headfirst towards who knew what, every part of the image was etched into his brain. True he had a professionally trained memory for detail, but this stood out. It was also true, though, that vivid memories were nothing new to him.
They'd been standing in the marble hall of the strange building as the tall man - awake and waiting for them with a smile – made a final transaction with Vincent. Deth had been staring at the replica Mako fountain in half-exhausted admiration. With the dark shadows under his eyes betraying the recent lack of sleep, he'd looked even more like the young kid he was than usual. Reno had busied himself with looking at the ceiling and the floor.
Valentine had come up to him, just before they left, and Reno had reached into his pocket to retrieve the silver key. Before he could pull it free, however, Vincent had shaken his head, his crimson eyes more unreadable than ever. He'd spoken quickly and quietly, his stare never wavering.
"Keep it. If you are ever in need of aid, come here. They will help you even if no one else will."
Before Reno could ask what he meant or why Vincent was implying he wouldn't be around when this mysterious event occurred, he was walking away, out the door as his cape caught in the night breeze and curled around him.
Even now he could feel the small silver key deep in his pocket. Tying not to think about it, Reno curled his fingers around it, and tried to force his brain towards other topics. Another good one was how soon they would reach Costa del Sol. The sooner, the damn well better. It had always been one of his favorite haunts way back when, and the thought of settling back into the place, the habit, was almost too tempting. In all the months in the dark in Midgar he'd always wanted to go back at least once before whatever happened happened. But not now. If he let go before he knew what had happened to El' and Rude... No, not now. He could wait to die until later.
The air was a little cold tonight, and the promise of distant warm beaches called through the early morning darkness. Their current destination was across a long stretch of sand, and they cut away from the road to make it the shortest distance possible. None of them wanted to be exposed for longer than necessary, especially not on a bare road. As they began to move towards the shoreline, Reno shot a glance at Vincent.
He walked quietly – the same way he did everything – and he stayed close to the kid. Reno's eyes trailed over to Deth, careful not to be noticed. He walked on. The tiredness written in every line of the kid's body made him wince a little. Reno did a little mental calculation, and it seemed highly unlikely that Deth had actually had any real amount of sleep for a good while. For a fourteen year old who was used to regular meals/sleep/security, this was one hell of an introduction to life on the other side. Well, at least he would be able to crash on the boat, and after that he'd really be home. The thought made Reno smile a little in the dark.
The white sand shifted under his feet as he walked. He considered briefly offering to help the kid, but decided against it. Undoubtedly Deth would turn him down and just make more of an effort to hide how tired he was. As a kid who'd spent the last two years on the nicest beaches of the Western continent, this was probably not new scenery. Still, Reno took a minute to admire the view for both their sakes. Watching the ocean always made something click inside him, and he enjoyed just listening to the sounds of the waves, the birds, and whatever else was passing by.
He turned his attention towards the distant lights, his thoughts tracing the steps ahead of them. There was a ways to go before Deth could collapse, but he'd have time to pull himself together before they arrived in the next city.
Eyes looking forward, Reno never saw the dark shadow standing indecisively along the edge of the water. No taller than Deth, it wavered, hesitated, and did not move. No one saw it, and no one would see the fourth set of footsteps that started half way down the beach, having come from no where, and ended at the waves before disappearing entirely. By morning the tide and wind would have taken care of that.
For now, a shadow watched invisible in the night as three figures headed towards the lights that would take them across the ocean.