Leonhart did not know how long he had been lying there on the ground, unable to move or even think clearly - it was as though a suffocating fog had buried him, rendering him senseless to the world.
Through that fog, he thought he could hear her. She sounded so reassuring, so comforting, yet so afraid at the same time. He felt his strength fading quickly, and her voice became more panicked as she cried out over and over. Yet, he could barely hear her anymore.
He tried to clench his fist over the handle of his gunblade, but he was no longer sure if he was even holding the weapon. All he could do through his thick, confused whirl of thoughts, was plead. Plead with the Griever; plead with Hyne, plead with anyone who could possibly hear him.

Don't take me now. Not yet. Don't let me die yet.

The soldier carefully swirled the alcohol in his glass, studying it in a distracted manner as he continued to tell his tale.

"I remember being bed-ridden for weeks. I couldn't take care of myself, I couldn't walk, I couldn't even move a toe. All I could do was lie there, sick or just too weak to do a thing about myself. She got really worried and upset about it - tried to give me back my pendant at one point. I wouldn't let her - even if if I was crippled, I didn't want her to end up like me... I still wanted to protect her.
"But my condition never showed any improvement, and I convinced her to have my military issued gun mail-ordered over for herself; I couldn't get up to defend her, and she was already having it hard enough trying to take care of me. I couldn't sit and wait for the worst case scenario...couldn't let anything happen to her."

He remembered waking to the distant sound of the door knocking. Then the sound of the doorknob turning, the latch going up, the door swinging open.

"Your gun, madam."

"Thank you so much! Please, come in; I'll go get your pay."

Finally, when everything was a little less blurred and fuzzy, when he figured he was focusing a little better, Leonhart lifted his hand carefully to shield his eyes. He coughed a couple of times, pain shooting through his back each time. He tried to reach for the cloth on the table, but his fingers merely brushed by it before it fell to the floor. He groaned, muttering curses for no one's ears but his own, and moved to drag himself to the side of the bed and try reaching for it again.

Then a gloved hand took hold of the cloth and placed it in his hand gently. His vision swayed a little as he looked up. Then things returned to a compromised focus, and he could just make out blond hair and black clothes. A little more, and he could make out what was once SOLDIER battle attire and black sleeves. Closing his hand over the cloth, he drew it back and laid it over his forehead, sighing with relief as it shaded the light from his eyes.

The man didn't say anything to him as Leonhart looked out from under the cloth in his direction.

Leonhart looked down at the sleeve over the man's arm.
"...got it too, eh?"

The man blinked, then looked at his sleeved arm as well; he continued to say nothing.

Lifting his own hand away from the cloth, Leonhart pointed out the opened med kit on the table, and the rolls of medicated bandages there.
"Help yourself."

The man did not move from his spot, his eyes still fixed on him.

"...hurts a lot, I know... Supposed to help a little, those..." Leonhart managed a shrug as he continued. "Doesn't work with me that well...always hurting, anyway..."

Finally, the man accepted the invitation, slowly reaching forward and taking one of the rolls. The man looked back at him and nodded his thanks.

Nodding back, Leonhart sighed and dropped his hand down to the bed. Exhaling deeply, he relaxed and drifted back into the dark, black world of nothingness as he fell asleep again.

"I don't know how long it took - between fevers and spells - to finally get my feet moving again. I still could barely feel them, but I could at least get up and take a few steps without crawling around. The walking part was harder - took so long for me to learn walking all over again, by the time I could even get out of the house on my own, I would have fully grown out my facial hair if she let me.

"It was around then that they came."

"...they?"

The soldier stopped playing with his glass and tilted his head back. As the contents disappeared down his throat, he lowered the glass to the counter and looked into Johnny's eyes.

"...you heard of the Shadow Creepers?"

There were screams everywhere. Blood and sickness was heavy in the air, despite the obvious scents of gunpowder and other elements.

A large, demonic looking creature rooted messily through a living room, the owner having fled in time. Barely.

Throughout the village, the usual peace was shattered. More of the creatures either attacked the people, or crashed through the houses, as though looking for something. Though, what it was, they never found it. And that only fueled their brutality and crazed zest to continue the search.

Leonhart leaned heavily against the outer wall of his home, struggling to catch his breath. His gunblade weighed a ton in his grip, but was still clean and untouched by any blood since he had dragged it out of the house earlier.

One of the monsters was approaching his home, sniffing around and growling. It would sense him, soon, as well as the girl in the house. He had to take his chance while he could; anything to get an advantage over the beast.
An advantage which he could not choose to go without.

As the creature took another step closer, he gritted his teeth and shoved himself off the wall. He managed to turn around and throw himself at the monster, sending both tumbling to the ground. Barely given time to recover, he found himself sprawled on his back, the creature towering over him as its breath hit his face.

This was it. He was going to be slaughtered and eaten right there; right on his own front porch.

Then the door burst open, and he heard gunshots. He could somewhat see the girl there, in the doorway, his army-issued gun in her hand, as she gripped it tightly. It looked so much like a toy compared to the creature it was up against; if only they could have afforded something more efficient.

The monster bared its teeth in what looked like a leer. Disregarding his fallen form, the beast stepped over him and toward the girl.

No.

Not her.

He did not know where he had mustered up the strength or will, but he lifted his blade and stabbed it forcefully upward, into the creature's belly that was still over his head. The creature dissolved away into the shadows, reappearing a distance away from him, hissing. Leonhart fell forward, coughing and gasping for breath before dragging the blade and his tired body up to fight.

What happened next, Leonhart was not entirely sure; he only recalled seeing through some kind of red haze that obscured too many details. He had continued to hack and slice, the creature continuously vanishing into shadows and reappearing elsewhere. It was wearing him out, and they both knew it.

Before he knew it, he was once again sprawled on his back, the pain and exhaustion back with a vengeance. He could hear gunshots around him, as villagers continued to fight back. He could hear angry shouts and pained yowls, but he suddenly did not know how he felt about it. In his hand, the gunblade continued to glisten in the light that hit it. Said monster was no longer attacking, but slowly moving around him.

Sluggishly, he lifted his blade over his head, his other hand moving to keep it there. He stared at the beast, the beast staring back at him. Then the beast moved to ignore him again as it moved toward his home.

NO, damn you!

Forcing himself up into a sitting position, he brought the blunt end of the blade down neatly upon the creature's neck, earning a satisfying cracking sound. The creature howled as it disappeared into the shadows again.

Then it stopped attacking.

So did all the other creatures as they suddenly melted away and no longer reappeared.

"...Mother is not here."

Leonhart swore he caught sight of silver hair from the corner of his eye.

By the time he turned to look behind him, there was no one there.

"...I don't know exactly what was going on afterward, but the Shadow Creepers no longer came back; like whatever had set them upon the village had recalled them for some other job or whatever. We were all thankful for their hasty exit, but what came next, none of us could have predicted.

"It started to rain.
"A long, seemingly endless shower fell upon us, while we were still busy cleaning up after the attack. None of us knew for sure how it happened, but the rain...healed us. Took away our sickness.
"It was like something of power from the skies above had saved us all."

At first no one comprehended what the rain meant; it had just been so very long since there was rainfall. Most just stood there and stared at the sky in confusion.

It had started with a shout from one of the working men; he started waving madly and charging out into the open. He kept pointing at his hands, ripping away the bandages placed there. At first, they still saw the black blood wound; suddenly, engulfed in cool green energy, it faded away, and the skin was smooth and clean once more.

"THE RAIN! IT'S THE RAIN!"

Then everyone got excited at once, charging out from under the shelters to be bathed in the falling droplets of water, crying out with joy - some even to the point of weeping - as their sickness faded as though it were never there.

Leonhart, drenched through with rain, suddenly felt something different about himself. He looked down and slightly behind, at the black-stained shirt. Pulling it over his head and off, he looked down at the bandaged torso.
It no longer hurt.
Ripping the bandages away with half-frenzied eagerness, he watched as a glow of green bathed the infected area.
In a flash, the black blood wound was gone.

He took an experimental step forward, and nearly stumbled as he realized how effortless it had become. Then he started to walk, picking up speed until he was breaking into a full run toward his house. With a leap, he jumped clear over the front steps to his front door and threw it open.

The girl had stared at him in bewilderment, at first, then moved hastily to him to reprimand him for tearing around the village without his shirt.
Then she stopped as he turned around, and she saw his clean torso, the wound gone from it.

Panting slightly out of breath, he turned back to face her once more, holding his hands out before him without really knowing what to do with them. His eyes were bright with ecstasy, and a smile forced its way upon his face.

That was when the girl shrieked and jumped upon him, hugging him tight to her as she started to cry. It hurt a little, the way she was constricting his breathing some, but it was a pain he welcomed.
It was a pain that told him, definitely, that he was not dreaming.

He was well again.

As the village was rebuilt, Leonhart made another trip down to Edge. He found the city, too, to be in the midst of repairs. Gathering information from the townsfolk, he found out about what had happened just so recently; about more of the Shadow Creepers, the three men with silver hair, the great Dragon Bahamut himself. All of these strange figures had disappeared without a trace.

He made a stop down by the merchant's place - surprisingly still intact and open for business - and requested for his two special items. The merchant was only too glad to relinquish them, wishing him luck as an added bonus.

Then it was trip back to the village, where he picked up the girl. Together, they headed all the way back to what was left of Midgar. Although the place was in so much ruin, there was one building that still stood tall - ironically, it was the old broken church. Both remembered it well, and Leonhart felt it the right place to bring the girl to.

He led her in - it was empty now, the crowd probably dispersed for the night, already - and brought her to the small pool of cleansing water in the center. The flowers that had once blossomed there - beautiful and strong - were now remembered only by the petals that floated over the surface. Leonhart stepped into the water - it was a little lower than waist deep for him, and held out his hand to help the girl in. Then, taking her hand securely in his own, he led her to the center of the pool.
As they stood there, facing each other, he spoke to her.

"It is time I took back that pendant."

She looked back at him, the confusion evident on her face. He gathered his courage together, and reached deep into his jacket's hidden pocket; the hand came back out in a closed fist.

"It is time to return the pendant, and replace it with something more...permanent."

He opened his palm, and presented to her the two special items that rested there - two silver-colored rings, the Griever's totem engraved upon them.

Carefully, he selected the smaller ring and held it out to her, carefully explaining.
"The lion...the Griever...protects those who bear the name of Leonhart. He watches closely all of the clan, the new additions and the offspring. His strength is our strength, his might is our shield, and his protection is our life...we honor him in turn, and carry his symbol with us always.
"I want to protect you with my life... ...I...I wish... I want the honor of giving you my clan's name."

His confidence started to waver in her silence, and he managed out a hesitant, "may I?".

"...she became my wife that day, there in the old church. We didn't get ourselves a priest, or even a witness. There, quietly, just the two of us; I gave her the clan's name of Leonhart. We returned to the village, and continued to live together, as we always had.
"Then she was pregnant, and made me swear to her that I would name our firstborn child after the miracle that enabled us to come this far together. And when the child was born, I kept my word to her."

The soldier looked back toward the window, to outside. The night had sneaked past them, and it was already sunrise. And the rain had finally stopped.

Rising to his feet, the soldier pulled out a handful of coins and laid them neatly on the counter top. Then, taking his weapon, he headed out.

Johnny was about to get out his money as well when he caught sight of the small pile of coins.
"...hey, wait! We're going halves, remember?"

The soldier paused in the doorway and turned back. He still did not smile, but his eyes were less hard; the closest thing to friendship could be seen.

"A man has to repay his debts."

Johnny did not protest further as he understood what the other meant by those words.

Staring one last time in Johnny's direction, the soldier turned and stepped out of the diner. Denzel was just emerging from within when the two sets of eyes met. The soldier nodded once at the boy, and walked off. Denzel watched him go with an unreadable expression on his face, then moved toward the counter. As he saw Johnny there, he didn't say a thing.
Feeling a little embarrassed, Johnny grabbed a rag and hastily started to clean up the mess he had caused earlier with his spit take.

"Was that a friend of yours?"

Johnny looked up over his furious mopping. "Who?"

"The one who just walked out," Denzel explained, looking out through the window at where the soldier just disappeared in the distance.

"Oh... Yep; we were chatting over a bottle."

Denzel did not answer immediately to that, but continued to stare out the window, at where the soldier was last seen.

"...I think I've seen that man somewhere before..."

"Here she is; a strong, healthy little girl."

He stared dumbly - still in shock - at the small wet bundle that their neighbor proceeded to help wash. Then, before he could completely snap out of it, the same bundle was placed in his arms, now clean and swaddled in a towel.

"...she's beautiful," he finally spoke.

As his wife stirred, he got his act back together, just enough to bring the bundle to her side. He held the bundle carefully out to her, and she relieved him of the temporary job he had been given.

The child's eyes opened, and looked from one face to the other. His wife smiled lovingly down at the child as she held her close.

He fumbled with his gloves, pulling them off to set on the table. Then, he carefully reached over and stroked a tiny wrist.

"...your name is of the healing rain - of the miracle...and you're my firstborn child..."

A small smile graced his features as he felt the tiny fingers curiously touch his much larger ones.

"...you are Raine Leonhart."

... End.