Chapter II :: King of Pain

"I was dying…" My voice sounded unfamiliar to me; deeper; hoarse. How close had I actually come? I realized I didn't know. I had lost more than a month of my life to a raging disease and the dreams that had accompanied it. "Hmm." Somehow, the situation was almost ironic, in a way. "He must've leapt at the chance to tell you one of your friends died." Fortunately for me, the other citizens of the village had been feeling humanitarian at the time—or at least hadn't felt any particular hatred towards myself. They had saved my life, keeping me alive while Tifa slowly died…

I closed my eyes.

"I was attacked, in the forest. I killed it, but I was struck, here." I motioned generally to my chest—there actually was a specific scar that ran from my left shoulder down to my lower ribs, a jagged remnant of the deep gash that had eagerly become infected during my struggle to find Barret. It was ugly, but had been even more so while the illness ravaged my body, bleeding uncontrollably and then pussing over as the infection progressed. "I caught some weird disease from it. I was out most of the time."

Neither of us said anything. Despite my apprehension, I admitted he still hadn't revealed to me Tifa's location. Regardless of my fear, I needed to know.

"Where is she?" I tried desperately not to expect anything.

Barret's head snapped up, abruptly snapped from his thoughts. Once again his face obtained an countenance of such morbid acquiescence as to be almost unrecognizable. "I 'ad so many doctors see her, to help wi' everythin', not jus' the narcolepsy. Then, she…she wuz in Marlene's bedroom, makin' the bed or somethin'. Marlene 'eard a thump, and went to go check t'make sure she didn't hurt herself. We jus' figured she'd fallen asleep again." He shook his head, to himself. "She didn't wake up."

I couldn't remember breathing then, when he said that. My heart ceased, and I could not think clearly.

"I 'ad her move here, because of the hospitals. I've 'ad too much of these doctors," he commented wearily. "All of 'em in the city said it was an emotional breakdown. Two were able t'narrow it down as a stroke."

"But…she was so young…" I whispered.

How had I let it get this bad? Why had I even mentioned Barret to that man? As much as I wanted to believe the entire predicament was Calin's fault, I knew unconsciously it wasn't. I had taken my sweet time while Tifa wasted away, unknowing of what was happening halfway across the world. How could I have known? Why hadn't I tried to find a way? Because I had wanted my best friend to have a nervous breakdown, mourning over me?

I hadn't kept my promise.

"Where is she?"

Barret didn't respond immediately—judging by his tunneled stare in my direction, he was attempting to judge my reaction to the answer. "Down a few streets. On 22nd Avenue." I hadn't a very recent map of Junon in my head, yet even I knew that this vague address was not that of a cemetery.

"Where?" He made a face, as if already regretting calling me there, inviting me into the conversation, opening himself up to such a question.

"The Associative Hospital of Junon."

I felt the muscles in my face go slack; all connections in my brain broke save for two: two thoughts chiming over and over, almost mocking in their repetitiveness.

She's not dead. She's still alive…

Wait.

The Associative Hospital of Junon? But that was…

"A mental hospital?" My eyes focused in on him; he didn't appear completely guilty, only slightly so, which, considering, was most likely due to his own unease over my reaction. "You put Tifa in a mental hospital?"

"Now don' get all angry wi' me. I said I didn' know what wuz goin' on. Everything wuz jus' chaos—first it wuz you, and then Tifa…all the doctors told me it'wuz the best thing for 'er…" I stood up, not entirely sure what it was I planned to do, but realizing the full extent of the anger, the disbelief that rose to the surface, hot as the fever that had held me for so long.

"'The best thing?!' Locking her up with a bunch of insane loonies?! How could that possibly be the 'best thing?!'" His dark eyes narrowed into slits.

"There's nothin' anyone can do 'bout 'er. I said I've 'ad every single goddamned specialist to look at 'er and not one of 'em could do anythin' about it! I'm at the end of my rope here!" His deep voice boomed throughout the house, making my skull vibrate. But it was something that would not stop the waves of frustration building up in my mind. I now knew where she was—and that she was alive—but it wasn't enough.

"How can you say that?! You just put her away with those…people, like she doesn't matter anymore! And what did she have to say about that?! What does she think about being dumped off in an insane asylum?!"

The floor trembled as he straightened, towering over me. "She doesn't think, Cloud. She can't think. That stroke killed 'er! She's completely braindead!" I stopped shouting, long enough to calm myself down. His breathing was irregular, sharp and broken. "I didn' have the things to take care of her in Corel, an' I didn' 'ave those things here, either. They do. They can take care of 'er, b'cause she can't do any of those things h'rself…" I sat back down, stupefied.

"Braindead…" The word rang in my head, overpowering the joyful revelation of her being alive. "Why…?" Barret shook his head, and slumped back into the armchair. He stared thoughtfully at me, though I didn't have the peace of mind to take heed to the attention.

"No one knows exactly what happen'd. It just…like some switch had turned off." He paused. "They said she can't hear anythin', or notice it when I visit 'er. A lota people said I should just let 'er die, that it would be easier on all of us." He gave me a look that spoke for itself: he wasn't planning on doing anything of the sort. Just as his daughter had given me the same expression. Silently both of them hoped that I could bring her back; as I had driven her away.

"I want to see her." Even before the words escaped me, I realized just how true they were. I really wanted to see her, despite everything Barret had just explained to me. I needed to see her. He shot me a skeptical look, unsure that I was ready to handle such a sight. After a moment, he nodded.

"Awright. Tomorrow. Visiting hours are over already—"

"Papa?" Both of us turned, as Marlene popped her red head through the doorframe. "Will Cloud be staying for dinner?" We glanced at each other.

"Yes."

I stared off as Marlene withdrew from our conversation. How old was she now—six, maybe? I could loosely remember how much the young girl had respected Tifa, having no mother to take care of her. And now, now that her only female role model was gone, how was she handling it?

Better than any of us, I figured.

Barret watched me watching his daughter. He coughed, breaking me from my reverie. He stood up with some trouble, having added several years to his age in the past hour. "You'll sleep on the couch."

The plot thickens…This was written faster than I thought it would be—it's probably to effect of listening to "We Drink Ritalin" over and over again (really, that song is quite catchy). So, um, yeah, here you go. Thankies to those who reviewed. It really motivated me. Raine