DL Noleek
Sonata of Ages
Adagio: Chapter 2: Morning Graces
"You could be a tad more grateful you know. I didn't have to carry you back here from HQ. I could have just let you collapse on the street—someone would have found your mako loaded carcass eventually."
-Zack Ranguor
First-class SOLDIER
The city nightlife: cars where whizzing past, lights igniting the sky in shades of yellow and orange. A cab rolled by, spraying water from a recent rain onto the sidewalk and drenching several unfortunate souls who happened to be in the water's path. Buildings arose out of the ground like weeds, slabs on concrete reaching for the stars in an attempt to mingle their dimly lit windows with the twinkling above.
A door, iron-wrought and latched tightly shut until the key is slid into place. Through the door and up several flights of steps, a hike amongst the bangings and slammings behind other sealed doors. The top of the staircase, the door in the middle—418.
/Where am I? /
/Have I been here before/
A simple space—kitchen and living room attached to a bedroom with a bathroom to the right. The only furniture that can be seen is a couch, TV, and a phone with a blinking light—several messages.
/No, I haven't/
/Why? /
The place is made smaller by clutter. Signs litter the floor: PEACE, Prevent Watershed, VOTE for Clean Air.
Several staggering steps into the room to the right—an equally sparse bedroom. A single bed, softness, warmth, a fade to black.
By Holy it hurt.
He didn't have to open his eyes to figure out where he had spent the night—the pain that incapacitated his body was indication enough of his current location. The heavy leather straps around his ankles, wrists, and stomach had been released, but there was still sweat coating him from head to foot; the fever that followed the injections must have just broke. It had been an intense night.
Everything else would be fine in a moment; it was just a matter of waiting it out. Yes, screaming would have provided a mild relief, and it would have been better than just sitting still, but he had done enough of that the previous evening—his throat was still raw.
A faint, coppery taste filled his mouth. Now that was a taste he hadn't awoken to in awhile—how bad had it been? It surely couldn't have been one of his better appointments with the good doctor.
/Don't want to remember. Far better just to block it all out. /
He had become very good at erasing his memory; it was easy to form mental blocks around events one did not want to recall. It was simply a matter of not dwelling on the hardship for several days and keeping it at the back of his mind. Voluntary memory loss was just as easy to achieve as it was to rid himself of the bad taste in his mouth.
Yes, it would be easy to clear his mouth of blood. There was a water fountain right outside the room as a matter fact—all he had to do was get up. If his ribs didn't hurt so much, he would have laughed at the thought.
/If only the troops could see this, the Great General Sephiroth lying in bed as weak as a kitten. Holy, I've got to get up. /
Despite the pain, he experimentally moved one leg from its prostate position, pushing the first limb over the edge of the bed and then the other. He sat up carefully, a wave of platinum hair cascading down his back and into his face as he attempted to pull himself into an upright position.
-Are you sure you should be doing that?
Sephiroth unconsciously glanced around. He still wasn't used to that voice, even though he had been hearing it for more than a year—if such a voice could be technically "heard." The voice had appeared the day after he received his first injection. To his knowledge, mako should not cause such problems, but it was the only solution he had been able to come up with; perhaps it was simply the amount of mako he was being exposed to.
/No one else can hear your damn voice, what makes me so special? /
He ignored the voice and eased himself onto his feet, using the wall for support as he made his way to the cell door. Just one foot in front of the other, that was all it took.
-Please, lie back down, Sephiroth. I know you are in pain. I can feel it.
Sure she knew—she knew everything. He knew for certain that the voice was a she, it was just far too delicate to be masculine. If anyone else could hear her, Sephiroth was certain that they would think the voice as tender and gentle as he had once thought. Now the voice only sent shivers raking through his body. The desire to crawl into a corner and hide was almost unbearable. A lesser man may have done just that.
Sephiroth grabbed his trench coat from where it hung on the wall and lurched through the door, meandering his way to the elevator. Normally, he would have taken the stairs, but quite frankly, he wasn't sure he would make it down sixty some flights of steps.
-Oh, go back to the lab. You would be so much more comfortable there.
Somehow, he highly doubted it. It was amazing how fascinating the changing of the lights in the elevator could be when one needed to stray from other thoughts—or annoying voices from inside the head, whichever the case may be.
Sephiroth grasped the rail beside him as the elevator finally reached the ground floor, the force of the gravity putting more pressure onto his rickety legs than he would have liked at that time.
The sound of voices on the other side of the door reached his ears before the thick metal doors even opened. Something beyond the barrier shattered—glass? Puzzled, Sephiroth pulled himself into a more solid position, pressing the button on the key pad that would signal the doors to open immediately.
A large crowd was creating quite a spectacle in the main lobby of the Shinra HQ, and a very familiar black-haired man was in the thick of it. Sephiroth groaned inwardly. The dark-haired man was weaving around various personnel in the lobby, narrowly avoiding their grasp as they tried to "kindly" show him the way out.
/Zack, what the hell are you doing? I swear, when I'm feeling well enough I'll—/
"She said she loved me, dammit!" Zack said, his speech heavily slurred—no surprise there.
"I'm sure she did," said a gentleman in a white lab coat. "But she certainly isn't here. Why don't you just come with me and—"
"But she said she worked here! Where—" Zack stumbled and knocked over a nearby chair.
/What is going on? Zack can be drunk, but this here is plastered./
There was another load crash as a rather expensive looking glass sculpture of a dragon in mid-flight fell crashing to the ground. A woman in a traditional black suite—the first floor secretary most likely—tried to grab a hold of Zack's arm, but only ended up with a bruise as she was smashed in the face from the black-haired man's flailing.
Sephiroth steeled himself and pulled himself completely upright so that he was supporting all of his weight. As humorous as the scene was, it was getting a little out of hand and a warm bed back at the house was starting to sound very good.
"Excuse me gentlemen, is there a problem?" Sephiroth fought a cringe; he hoped his voice was stronger than he felt and sighed in relief when he saw everyone pause to look at him. His presence alone had the desired effect: the fight was immediately stalled and everyone in the room took an involuntary step back with the exception of Zack.
It was ridiculous. One would think he was some vicious god come down from the heavens to smite them all. /Oh, well. There are perks to the position, might as well take advantage of them./
"What is the problem?" he repeated, trying to put as much ice into his voice as possible. The faster he got out of here, the faster he could go home and sleep off the mako.
The lab coat executive who had been trying to grab Zack when he came in took a step forward. "he just wandered in here General, as drunk as some sop from the lower sectors. It is not a problem you should have to contend with. He's most likely just some low ranked guard who wandered in from one of the bars near the barracks. We can take care of it."
/I'm sure you would, but if I left him with your department, it is likely that no one would ever see him again. Though at times, I'll give you that that may not be such a bad thing…and I reiterate, Zack what the hell do you think you are doing?/
"Nonsense, I am heading towards the barracks myself now. I'll just take him with me." Without waiting for a reply, Sephiroth brushed smoothly passed the scientist and grabbed onto the drunk's arm.
"But I must speak with her, I can't leave yet!" Zack swayed slightly, but kept moving forward without causing any trouble—not that Sephiroth anticipated any. He could feel the glares on his back as they left the building, but he didn't bother trying to readjust those looks; he was beat and the scum just weren't worth the effort.
Sephiroth managed to make it to the tunnel leading to the barracks before his knees gave out. He would have fallen had it not been for the pair of familiar strong arms that wrapped themselves around his waist to hold him up. Normally, the general didn't allow anyone that close to him, but Zack was an exception, especially now. This was not the first time Sephiroth had had to be physically dragged back to the barracks by his friend. After the first time, he had stopped protesting and accepted the help—much to his chagrin. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of person and he had an even harder time accepting help. Zack had lucked out the first time he had helped Sephiroth back from HQ, the general had been unconscious.
"Holy, Seph, what the hell did they do to you?" Zack grabbed his arm with his other hand and threw it over his shoulders, taking some of Sephiroth's weight.
Standing closer to the other man, Sephiroth could clearly smell the odor a cheap whiskey—not strong enough to get his friend sopping drunk, but hard enough to fool the execs back at HQ.
"I have no idea what happened last night Zack, all I know is that I woke up in a lab with a headache that was painful enough to keep me knocked out—" he paused. "Just what were you doing in there anyway?"
Zack grinned foolishly and shrugged. "Oh, I'm so sorry for worrying about you Mr. I'm the Great General Sephiroth and Therefore Invincible sir. How dare I think that a couple of Shinra lab junkies could harm you."
"It's not a big deal."
"Right, and that's why you look like you've visited Odin's Kingdom and lived to tell about it! Holy, it's why I'm half dragging you back to the barracks!"
Zack' rant was stopped when Sephiroth stumbled on a crack in the walkway. Damn, but he hated being so weak. If he could only shrug off his friend's arm and—
"Sorry," Zack said, his voice suddenly becoming more gentle. "I guess I just don't understand why you put up with it. Why live like a whipped dog when you are more than capable off walking away?"
It was a fair question, and it had its fair share of answers too. Maybe it was because he had no where else to go, or because except for the draining tests done to his body, the life suited him. It was very possible that the decision to stay had something to do with that voice in the back of his head, but he doubted that Zack would believe that excuse; Zack had enough to worry about without him adding the question of his mental stability to the mix—a factor which Sephiroth himself really wasn't sure of. It was why he settled for a more sane response.
"I'm a soldier." There, as simple as that. He could tell by Zack's low grumble that that wasn't the response he had been looking for, but this was not the time nor the place to discuss the issue, so his friend let it drop.
The two made their way out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit streets of the SOLDIER sector. Zack maneuvered them carefully towards the large structure at the corner of the first drive. I was one of the few 'houses' in Midgar—another perk of being general.
Sephiroth began fishing through his pockets as they neared the front door, but Zack stayed his hand.
"Don't bother, it's not a problem." Zack stretched up to his full height and reached for the brass key that was above the door frame. /That's right/ Sephiroth thought dimly. /I told him where to find the key weeks ago. I wonder if that was a mistake…/
After opening the door, the two men stumbled into the house, switching on lights as they went. Zack deposited Sephiroth on the couch, almost throwing the taller man onto the soft cushions.
"You'll have to crash here for the rest of the—" Zack glances at his watch, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, "—morning. I am not hauling your royal ass up a flight of steps."
"Lazy," Sephiroth retorted from his position on the couch.
"No, exhausted," Zack replied, moving away from the general.
"I'm making no comment there." /I must be beat, I'm actually teasing Zack. Not that he doesn't need it…/
Sephiroth recognized the sound of his closet door slamming and Zack returned promptly with a thick blanket, which he immediately unfurled over the other man's prone body.
"You could be a tad more grateful you know. I didn't have to carry you back here from HQ. I could have just let you collapse on the street—someone would have found your mako loaded carcass eventually."
"I'm sure that would have been—" Sephiroth stopped when he felt his stomach heave and he made a desperate motion, a slight flick of the wrist, to Zack who reached for a nearby trashcan.
The thick liquid that came out of Sephiroth's body was a faint green with an eerie glow to it—raw mako. His whole system was probably pumped with the stuff and he suddenly wished (and not for the first time) that he knew what was being done to his body in those labs. There was so much mako crawling through is veins that the substance was probably replacing his blood.
The heaving finally stopped nearly a minute later, stealing the remainder of his strength. The hands that were gripping the sides of the couch were shaking violently and much to Sephiroth's dismay, the room was beginning to sway like the distortions of an illusionist's mirror.
When Zack placed a comforting hand on his upper back , Sephiroth flinched. When they had first med during the war, both men had agreed to respect the other's personal space, though the deal was contrary to Zack's 'what's yours is mine,' philosophy. Sephiroth, needless to say, had had trouble with close contact most of his life; Zack usually left him alone.
Now, however, as earlier when he was carrying him back to the barracks, Zack's presence and the circular motion on his back was comforting rather than disturbing and Sephiroth did not pull away. Instead he allowed those gentle hands to guide his body back to the cushions and underneath the blanket. He placed full trust in the contact and allowed the warmth of another human being to sink through him.
Cloud cursed as the sound that was blazing through his head increased and he pulled his arm out from under his pillow to glance at his watch—five forty-five, it was too early to be up. Damn, but he just couldn't be late for his first day, now could he? Cloud sunk into the pillow just a little further, his stiff muscles reluctant to move even to turn off the incessant ringing of his watch alarm. There was not light streaming through a window to wake him up in the morning here, no smell of Mom's cooking to bribe him from precious sleep. There was, however, a doctor's appointment he had to get to in order to step foot into a classroom; a meeting with several of Shinra's scientists that he was not looking forward to.
Doctors were a species that he avoided on principle.
The second alarm on his watch went off and this time Cloud threw off the sheets and swung his legs over the bed, ignoring the brief shock of cold his feet experienced the moment they touched the cement floor. The room was a little cool, but not nearly as cold as an average day in Nibelheim. Compared to his hometown, Midgar was a tropical island—a tropical island that had kept him up half the night before because he'd been too warm and the hall had been too noisy. Even stripping down to his underwear hadn't helped stave off the heat.
Nibelheim was the light to Midgar's eve as far as he was concerned. In the base, the hall had never slept. People had walked up and down the halls from the time he went to bed to now. Cloud had not been able to tell what the occasion had been the previous night, but judging by the sound of retching coming from the other side of the door, several of the boys had been too far drunk to give him any information. To be honest, Cloud would not have been surprised to find one of his hall mates passed out in front of his door. Why people got totally plastered, he would never know. The only time he had been sick enough that he couldn't focus was when he had his first drink a year ago at thirteen—the drinking age in Nibelhiem. Never again—he preferred to keep clear mind and a quick wit. Drowning troubles in alcohol never solved anything.
Cloud did not even pause to spare a glance in the mirror at the unruly rat's nest on his head as he shoved his uniform over his head. It was more important to be dressed and ready. He had considered unstrapping his large buster sword from its holster the previous night, but had decided against it; there was little chance that he would need it so soon in his training and it would only raise more questions than he was willing to answer. Although he would have felt more secure with the comfortable weight on his back, it did make getting changed faster. He could skip the steps that consisted of attaching the large blade to the hooks on the sheath and just simply go straight from pants, to shirt, to boots, to the belt, and then out the door.
Or at least, it should have been that easy.
Just before leaving the room, the lump under the covers of the other bed let out a low moan as it shifted, a tiny hint of pale blonde hair spreading out over the pillow. Cloud stopped dead in his tracks and turned toward his roommate's sleeping form. As far as he knew, El would have to get up soon anyway and there was no alarm clock in the room to wake him. Unless he was able to wake himself up on his own, it was unlikely that he would make his first class.
Cloud did not know why the thought so much as crossed his mind, and he most certainly couldn't understand why he should care. El's classes were, after all, his own responsibility; Cloud wasn't his mother and it was doubtful that his coincidental companion would return the favor.
/But he hasn't done anything to warrant discontent either./
Another thought that didn't seem to fit, but there it was. A slightly irritated sigh escaped Cloud's lips as he turned towards El. He was about to reach beneath the Shinra issued green coverlet when it was suddenly thrown off by the sleeping boy. Cloud immediately halted, thinking El had gotten up on his own accord when the boy suddenly let another moan and turned toward.
Cloud covered his ears as El's body twisted once again and shut his eyes tightly. The wave of utter terror and panic that washed over Cloud's senses drove him to the ground as the ring around the finger of his right hand began to pulse with an erratic beat. When he looked at El's face, he was not surprised to find it twisted in agony with breaths coming in short gasps.
Never before had Cloud seen anyone suffer from such a nightmare—dreams were not that real. The way the blood was bounding through his veins, the hyper awareness of his senses, his glowing eyes—and he knew they were luminous, he could feel the slight burning—had never been worse. Cloud had felt the rush of power during storms, or when he was in the Nibel Mountains, but he had never received such a strong reaction from another person before. It was insane. He could not have gotten more of a head rush from jumping off a cliff; it fell like his entire body was plummeting.
The ring around his finger was beginning to burn and Cloud finally managed to squint through blazing eyes. El was still on the bed, flat on his back, the sheets wrapped around his limbs like a lover's arms, covered in sweat. Although his struggles had ceased, his brow was still furrowed as if in intense pain. Cloud tried to reach the sleeping boy, but clutched his head again as he moved closer to the bed.
Sound erupted out of nowhere, a cacophony the likes he had never heard before. It was a choir of screaming, tormented souls in a deep, minor, dissonant chord. Cloud did not think about the consequences. He automatically began searching for the melody beneath the havoc, his irritated hearing delving through the mass of notes and chords in order to find the structure of the song. Cloud felt a liquid warmth beneath his hands and he knew that his ears were bleeding from the noise.
Finally, he found it. The melody, though hidden beneath all the layers of dissonant harmony, was actually very simple, and Cloud sighed in relief. It wouldn't be hard to change them; a few notes to alter the dissonance. Yes, simple, and that was a relief; he was not sure he was up to a major composition right now and besides, something a bit harder might wake his slumbering roommate and that was the last thing he wanted while he was trying to attempt this. People already looked upon him as the bane of the planet, he did not need this added to that description.
Cloud removed his now blood drenched hands from his ears, wincing slightly as the barrier between himself and the hell-choir was removed. To his horror, he felt his body quake as the sound hit him full force and he had to struggle to keep from replacing his hands. Gritting his teeth, he began to hum softly under his breath, making sure that he was forming the right notes before raising the dynamics of his voice to something stronger. The harmony was perfect—Cloud grinned, it would be no trouble at all.
Cloud's voice slowly began to rise until his voice projected only slight above the nightmarish sound, switching from the harmony as he dominated the melody. Carefully, he began to twist the chords, adding slight inflections to make some of the more dissonant fifths fit into the pattern by adding a seventh or a stronger third. The melody radiating from El's mind morphed to Cloud's melody and Cloud was able to release his line softly before turning his voice to a gentle Nibelheim lullaby—a lilting piece that would ensure El remained in his unconscious state.
With the vicious noise silenced, Cloud was finally able to rise from his crouched position near El's bed. With a gentle hand, Cloud reached over and touched the crest of El's forehead. /What would cause a nightmare like that?/ he questioned silently.
It was as if El had been possessed. /The dreams seemed to physically hurt him…/ Cloud stopped and examined that thought for a moment. It seemed utterly ridiculous; nightmares weren't real. /Aren't they?/ The question pushed its way into his thoughts unbidden. This wasn't something he wanted to know the answer to at the moment, yet… /You yourself have had more than one or two that were all but real. It's just that no one ever thought to wake you up or ease the pain./
"El, what in Hades is going on?" Cloud muttered, his hand finally leaving the boy's head. "By Holy, how can a simple nightmare cause such a reaction…"
Cloud was suddenly forced to retreat several steps as the bundle under the covers moved. /At least he woke up on his own. Since I didn't wake him up, I won't be yelled at for interrupting his beauty sleep./
El's body shifted so that he was on his side facing Cloud and it was only moments before green orbs were blinking away the remains of sleep. For a moment, El's gaze wandered around, darting from one corner to the other before finally settling on Cloud's figure at his side. His face was still pale, whiter than the sheet he was laying on and Cloud had to resist the temptation to take another step closer to see if his roommate was alright. The last thing he needed right now was for El to faint on him; it meant he would have to be later for his appointment than he already was because he would then have to take care of him.
Damn his conscience.
The sheets that hung around El's shoulders shifted slightly, revealing some of the pale skin beneath it; the fabric's motion must have snapped El out of his stupor. Before Cloud could blink, El was suddenly snatching at the cover and drawing it tightly around himself.
"What are you doing?" he demanded in a choked hiss, the knuckles grasping the sheets whitening. "I thought you had an appointment this morning, shouldn't you be gone?"
/And since when is that any of his business where I am or am not supposed to be?/ "You were having a nightmare," Cloud stated simply with a slight nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "If you don't want me to worry about you, just say so and I let you suffer through the next one."
Cloud watched as El did the perfect impression of a wild animal caught in headlights—all motions ceased, yet his body remained tense and his eyes widened to the size of large, round coins. Cloud thought about laying a hand on the boy—he wasn't that far away—but instinct stopped him. If he placed so much as a finger on El now, he was positive that he would run, and yet at the same time, he felt that he should not leave right that second. And so he stood there, feet rooted in place, right in the middle of the room between their two beds. It was like two enemies spotting each other at the same moment in time along an abandoned road with weapons drawn, both soldiers too surprised to pull the trigger—a stand-off. Cloud wouldn't be the first one to fire; the next move, whatever it was, belonged to El.
It was several seconds before El broke free of his frozen state, but he visibly managed to relax his body, Cloud's vision picking up the slightest repositioning of his legs and the easing of the muscles in his back that were holding him rigid. El's hands, however, remained tightly clasped around the sheet as if it were a lifeline.
"How did you dispel the nightmare?—no one has ever been able to awaken me from it before." El's voice was barely audible, and Cloud winced as he heard the strain in it.
/It's raw from the screaming…/ Holy, he knew that feeling, the pain in the throat from prolonged suffering. He knew it all too well and wished he knew what caused it in El, but he wouldn't pry; it wasn't his business to pry.
/If I keep my mouth shut, he will stay out of my way No questions, no explanations./
Cloud grunted, finally taking that next step back and turning toward the door. It was time he made his appointment. If El was willing to ask questions, then he was alright. "I didn't do anything. I was just about to shake you when you woke up on your own. I did nothing."
Cloud was almost to the door when El's voice interrupted his departure. "Yes you did," came the soft reply. "You stopped my dream. They were coming again, but they didn't reach me this time. There was only darkness this time."
/How is that a big deal. And who is 'they'…? I don't have time for this! I helped him and that is enough. I probably shouldn't have even done that much./
Cloud was just about to close the door when El's voice came floating across the room one last time. "I thought I heard you singing."
That stopped the blue-eyed boy in his tracks. By Holy, he was not ready for that quite yet! He shouldn't have done it! He should have never opened his big mouth!
"It was strange—I didn't recognize the language. What did you do? How did you get into my head like that?"
There was something there, something in that voice that was setting off alarms in Cloud's head, but he didn't want to piece anything together right now. Every rational part of his brain was directed toward keeping himself calm.
Cloud didn't turn around again; if he did that, he may never make it out. It was a slim chance, but it was possible that if he avoided El, the subject would drop—highly unlikely, virtually impossible, but there wasn't another option. All it would take was several whispers in the right ears and he would be out of SOLDIER's training program so fast that he wouldn't have time to protest.
He was away from the clutches of those who wanted him in Nibelhiem, and he intended to keep it that way.
Besides, running was something he was remarkably good at. If he avoided his opposition long enough, they would eventually give up the chase. He'd done enough of it back home to make a career out of it.
"I have to go. I'm late for my appointment," he said, before closing the door firmly behind him and thus cutting off anything else El might have said. The dingy corridor stretched out endlessly in front of him, the flickering lights offering little illumination.
Somehow, the shadows were strangely comforting. It was a long walk down to the labs in the basement and with the dark patches scattered throughout his route, it was unlikely that the few bodies that had passed out in the hallways would remember his passing.
Author's Notes: There was supposed to be more after this, but this seems like a good place to stop. I considered describing Cloud's visit to the lab, but have decided against it…it just doesn't seem necessary. I also didn't proof read the last section, so I apologize for the mistakes that I know are there. I'll fix it later (if anyone spots one, let me know, it will save me the trouble of tracking it down later). I just really wanted to get these chapters out.
As always, let me know what you think.