Chapter I :: Hello Another Way

Although the weatherman had said the sun would come out that day, it had yet to make an appearance. And though the air in the streets hadn't dropped to the daily low of sixty-five, the wind chill—which had remained unaccounted for during the morning report—made it feel at least ten degrees colder.

But that was Junon for you.

Yet after the nine-hour journey through the mountains surrounding North Corel, across the sea splitting the two continents into the Junon area, my legs were grateful for the space the wide streets provided. Traces of heavy fever still occasionally flared beneath my skin, and the breeze was a welcome one as it calmed the furious tides of heat throughout my body. I still wasn't completely healthy, still showed signs of impending illness; even as had I climbed the irate green chocobo that would take me over the mountain range, fighting the vertigo and straightening myself on the saddle, the doctor of the village continued to insist that I was still not well. Certainly not for extensive travel.

If I could walk, I reasoned, I was perfectly fine.

Up the elevator from Junon Harbor, one would catch a glimpse of the last aquamarine waves before the black asphalt spread throughout. Junon wasn't a miraculous city, was not destined for the hideous greatness Midgar had once possessed, but after Meteor, people had needed a place to congregate, to regroup and spawn. The second largest city in the world, having suffered little damage and no long-term effects, had been the perfect candidate. And because of the sudden influx of refugees, Junon had bloomed and spread like an enormous flower of pavement and metal and human. It was overcast and windy, and every inch was teeming with life.

I had never really liked people, never had an innate appreciation for their company. They needed and demanded more attention and effort than they deserved, wanted more than I cared to give them, desired time I didn't have. I had never been very social—unless you considered picking fights with neighborhood kids social—and I was never congenial when it came to dealing with strangers. As I passed the groups and pairs and individuals, all shouting and jostling their way from one place to the next, I regretted over the fact that my disease was a foreign one, a virus, and could not be transmitted from person to person. It truly was a shame. The only appeal cities had to me was the actuality that I could get lost among the throngs, disappear if I wanted and become invisible.

I had wanted that once. I had done fairly well in that respect, hiding in towns where no one could recognize my face, know me for who I was. And I had stayed in those small, barely populated towns, mulling over my life. But now I was here, battling the masses. Because Barret had said so.

Over the phone, I hardly recognized his voice as his own. He had been, at the time, worried, upset, and absolutely, positively fuming that I had not kept in contact with him in the past year. I didn't know why. I didn't know why he was in Junon as opposed to North Corel Village. All I knew was that when he said 'immediately,' something was very wrong.

It was three months ago, when I had stumbled into the town's border with an outrageous fever and double-vision, looking for him. But Barret wasn't where he was supposed to be, and I hadn't had time to phone him in Junon with the number some local had given me before I passed out.

I remained passed out and unconscious for several weeks.

So he was here. He had either bought an apartment, or rented one. It was close to where the Sister Ray had once stood, in all of its terrible destructive glory. As I started up the steps, a thought came—Tifa had mentioned living with Barret in Corel. As with all the other members of Avalanche, I hadn't spoken with her in over a year and a half. Yet the excitement I should have felt at the thought of seeing her again was quelled by the increasingly violent butterflies in my stomach. Barret had not once mentioned her in the two brief conversations we'd had over the phone. He had been too furious, too frustrated. Too panicked.

Fifth floor, take a left down the steel grey hallway, 628B; by the time I found myself staring at the apartment door in front of me, the paper with his directions on it was nothing more than a crumpled shred with what had been writing smeared on it. I gripped it inside a tight fist as I pressed on the small, round doorbell. It chimed, rather loudly, and almost immediately a responsive thumping came from the other side, inside.

I gazed forward, expecting to see Barret's wide, square features inches above my face. Instead I caught sight of the kitchen behind the door, and glanced down to meet Marlene's brilliant green eyes. They grew wide as she registered my face, and a faint smile appeared before her father's heavy steps resonated down the hallway.

"Stupid son of a bitch." Marlene moved away so I could enter, and, realizing that this was as close to a welcome as I would get, I put my bag down.

"Hello to you too," I said dryly.

"Where the hell have you been?" I suddenly felt like a child, being scolded for coming home late.

"In Corel, looking for you. Where have you been?" Sensing the heating waves of conflict, whizzing through the air like sparks of electricity, Marlene quickly and discreetly left the room. Barret, as I got a look at him, had wrinkles in his face he hadn't possessed the last I saw of him; it was as though he had aged two whole decades in the two years we'd last seen each other. He seemed tired some how, exhausted as if he hadn't slept in several days.

Waiting for me.

"Here. I—we…live here now. For the bein'."

"Barret, what's going on? You said you needed me for something…" He waved his hand in front of my face, silencing me. My stomach churned, and I knew instinctively that it was not a symptom of the jungle sickness. But the question wouldn't rest: where in the world was Tifa?

The black man watched me, long and grave and sympathetic; the fire of the moment had died within him, and he no longer had the energy to continue. His brown eyes were dark and sorrowful, weighed down with an essence I had never seen before in him. A countenance of pure, unmistakable sadness. Simple hopelessness. All he could do now was wait for me, as he had been waiting.

He pointed to the living room, towards a burgundy couch. My intestines were doing somersaults as I followed him in and sat down.

"What happened?" I asked again. Barret sank into a wide armchair across from me, proceeding to avoid looking at my face.

"Everyone thinks your dead," he mumbled, so I could barely hear him. "I thought you were dead, until you called last week…" The couch wasn't at all uncomfortable, but I found myself sitting erect, unable to relax.

"What happened? Where is Tifa…?" The words were slow in coming; I almost held them back, for fear of the answer. His head came up at the mention of her name, yet still he couldn't bring himself to look at my face. He became immersed in the coffee table, glass-topped and silver-rimmed.

"She's…look, Cloud, a lot has gone down since you disappeared. One day I jus'…got a phone call from Calin—" The villager who had given me Barret's number. I nodded, to myself. "He said somethin'—as monster attack'd you in the forest. That you got sick. He called…to tell me that you were dead…"

"But I wasn't dead!" I interjected. "I could take care of myself. Everyone should have know that…" He glanced at me sharply.

"You say he was lying? How the hell was I supposed to know, not havin' seen or heard from you since…" He stopped. "Goddammit, I didn't know what the hell was goin' on! He told me you had come in lookin' for me, and that you went unconscious for a while."

"That doesn't mean I died," I said. "Just because someone's in a coma doesn't—"

"He said you'd stopped breathin'," he went on, "that they couldn't revive ye'. No one knew what was goin'on." I sighed, and slumped back into the pillows. "That wuz jus' the beginnin'. That's when Tifa really started gettin' sick."

"…Sick…?" My heart froze in my chest. Barret was not staring at the coffee table; he was not even in the room with me. The memory had taken hold, his voice finding a monotony that signaled his entrance.

"O'course, 'afore that she knew you were fine. She knew you could take care of ye'rself. But, I guess, somethin' inside her couldn't let go a the feelin' you'd been hurt, that you were in danger s'mehow. She started worryin' o'er stupid, little things, at first. Then, I didn't think it was too serious, nothin' to worry about. She had a lota stress at the time. I jus' figured it wuz all bringin' 'er down…

"Then I got that phone call." He found present, and stared down at me. "I didn' want t'tell 'er." For a moment, I thought he was going to start weeping, right there in front of me. "She died then, Tifa. I mean, she was still alive an' all, body-wise, but her 'eart…it went with you."

"Barret," I spoke more calmly than I felt, not wanting my voice to give my fear away. "Why did they call so early? Why didn't he call when I started breathing again…when I woke up?"

He shook his head. "I don' know! Maybe…damn, it was prob'bly his grudge kickin' in. 'Cause I couldn't stay like I was suppos'd te'." So all of Avalanche save for Barret thought I was dead because one arrogant man still couldn't get over his grudge. Wonderful. "She stopped eatin', 'came thin as I'd e'er seen 'er," he continued. "She didn't sleep, 'cause a the nightmares..."

"What nightmares?" My voice startled him: he had forgotten I was there, listening.

"The first a'her doctors said it was narcolepsy, 'cause a the stress."

"Narcolepsy?"

"Sure. She'd fall asleep at odd times—washin' the dishes, or e'en once in the shower." He drew breath, prepared. "But it was always the nightmares. They were the worst." Silence. "She told me about it once, when she was still talking. She'd wake up in the middle a the night, open 'er eyes, see the room, y'know, as she usually did. Only, she couldn't move, not a muscle—some sort a sleep paralysis. She couldn't do a thing, jus' lay in bed an' blink, waiting until she could move again. Then she'd see 'em. The ghosts…"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Of course I had heard of narcolepsy, of the random bouts of unconsciousness, and the sleep paralysis was pretty much self-explanatory. But seeing dead people in her bedroom?

"An', the time she told me, it was when she saw you, standin' next t'Aeris."

It was as though the world had disappeared: all that remained were Barret and I. The planet was insignificant. The house was completely silent, as if Marlene and the other boarders of the building had all disappeared, leaving me to digest alone what Barret was describing to me. As if they too suffered from narcolepsy.

"You jus' stood there, starin' at her. The both you an' Aeris vanished. Then she woke up." He closed his eyes. "She didn' fall back asleep, didn' sleep at night anymore. A few naps durin' the day, but that wuz all." As he opened his eyes again, blinked, his brow creased with obvious accusation, though resigned. "You waited too long."

O.o I actually published a second chapter for something. –gasp- There were a few problems with the plot-building here, but hopefully they'll pan out later. Sorry about the cursing, I'll change the rating, just to be safe. I try and keep it as PG as I can, but I won't promise anything. Hope you like it. Please read and review! Raine