I'll be honest, I never watched Before Crisis and I don't really know too much about the Turks. So, I may get some of their details wrong… but that's why this is called fanFICTION, now isn't it? That said, feel free to send me corrections :) I know it drives me crazy when I come across characters doing uncharacteristic things, so I'd like to avoid that in my story lol
Cloud was dreaming. Or at least, he hoped he was dreaming, because if he wasn't and this was actually happening…
Leather straps cut deep into his biceps and forearms, pinning his arms in place as similar straps pinned down his legs. His chest heaved as the scalpel hovered over his chest. Reflected in the mirror-like blade was his own wide-eyed, panicked expression and the hooked nose of Professor Hojo, who was scowling at some documents.
"Bone regrowth is lacking," Hojo finally announced, "though cellular division of the epidermis is above average. This indicates that the subject is able to quickly repair superficial wounds, while reparing other injuries take a statistically average timeframe." He then glanced at Cloud, but his gaze didn't linger on his eyes – like any other human-to-human interaction – but his chest, the area right below the scalpel. Cloud's breath quickened as Hojo continued, "The current hypothesis is that an injection with Jenova cells will continue to improve the subjects natural cellular repair abilities, while the addition of mako will amplify the Jenova cells' ability by a factor of two."
"No, don't -" Cloud tried to say, but there was something in his mouth, preventing him from speaking. He hadn't noticed it a moment ago but now it was all he could focus on – at how his spit trickled down the corners of his mouth, at how difficult it was to breath past the strap. His jaw ached from keeping it open for so long, and he was vaguely aware that he was beginning to hyperventilate.
"Quiet, Sample C," Hojo said. Turning to his assistant, he asked, "Do you have the haloperidol?"
"Yes, sir," the assistant said, and lifted a syringe filled with a clear liquid.
Cloud's heart rate quickened, and the machine beside him beeped in rhythm with his beating heart. Without taking notice – or perhaps Hojo simply didn't care – he reached for the syringe only to place the tip against Cloud's elbow.
"D – Don't," Cloud tried to say, but he couldn't speak past the strap in his mouth.
"Begin the treatment," Hojo announced, just as he slid the needle in…
Zack's eyes snapped open to the sound of pained gasps. He immediately snapped upright – he knew those gasps, knew them from anywhere – only to crumble back onto the bed, his hands pressed against his chest, at the bullet holes that had been cleaned and bandaged. His breath hissed between his teeth, both in pain and stark confusion, but a more predominant concern overruled whatever he was feeling. He could deal with himself later. Right now, Cloud came first.
"Cloud." His voice was little more than a rasp as he reached across to the bed beside his. His fingertips brushed against an arm. "Hey, Spikey. Hey. Hey, it's me. It's okay."
Cloud went still at the first touch, only to make a sound deep in his throat – a cross between a cry and a sob.
"Yeah, I know buddy. I know." Zack tightened his grip on Cloud's arm; his thin arm, thinner than he remembered it being. Cloud's cheekbones were also more prominent, his mako-laced eyes more sunken and bruised. His hipbones peaked against covers. "We… should get you something to eat," Zack added. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but worry tightened his throat.
What happened to us? He shifted his gaze to the ceiling, his hand still holding Cloud's arm. Where are we?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he remembered. Cissnei. She had found them while he and Cloud had been heading to Midgar. She had promised something… hospitals, he recalled. Treatment. Letters.
His breath hitched.
Letters from Aerith. Eighty-eight of them.
"Hey, Spikey." Zack thickly swallowed; he couldn't break down now. Maybe later, but not yet. "Want to go… for a walk?"
Cloud said nothing, as expected. His expression had smoothed over and his tension eased, and soon his breathes steadied and evened as his eyes slowly closed. Zack wasn't sure what had happened – Cloud hadn't so much as twitched since they had escaped Hojo's lab – but whatever it was, Zack couldn't help but be somewhat relieved. If Cloud could express emotion again… If he could move again… Maybe he was finally waking up.
Zack held onto the thought, held onto that small kernel of hope as tightly as he could. Things were looking up. Things were getting better.
Just as he was forcing himself upright, the door opened. Zack immediately tensed, only to realize that it was Tseng who walked into the room.
"Zack," Tseng greeted. The Turk's lips twitched into a smile, only to fade away as he resumed his nonchalant gaze. "I'm glad to see you awake."
Zack swallowed, noticing just how dry his throat was. "How long… have I been out?"
"Two days." Tseng placed a small box onto the nightstand. The box was plain, little more than cardboard with a metal clasp holding it shut, but Zack stared at it as if it had been made of diamonds.
"Is that…?"
"Yes." At that, Tseng actually smiled – a brief smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You had been greatly missed the past four years."
Zack's eyes misted over. "Is she…?"
"Aerith is alive and well," Tseng said, answering Zack's unspoken question. The hospital bed groaned as he sat down on it, a rare breach of protocol – he had only meant to return the box and leave, after all. "She continues to sell flowers in the slums, and has even started to venture onto the plates themselves."
Zack traced the box's edge with his fingers. "Does she…" He wasn't sure how to say this. "Does she… remember me?"
At that, Tseng slowly stood back up. "Read the letters and find out," he replied. Zack's head jerked upright at the cryptic reply, but Tseng's expression was kind. Gentle, even. Warm.
Zack managed a smile. "You've gotten soft."
"Have I?" Tseng arched a delicate eyebrow, but didn't bother denying it. "If you or Strife need anything, don't hesitate to call." He tapped the buzzer on the nightstand, one that would undoubtedly summon a nurse over if Zack pressed it, in explaination. "In the meantime, rest. Recover. You're safe from Shinra here."
"You work for Shinra," Zack pointed out.
Tseng shrugged. "For the president, perhaps. But not for Hojo."
Just the mention of that scientist's name made Zack feel gross. Slimy, and he couldn't help but cross his arms over his chest. Desperate to change the conversation, he asked, "When can I… um, see Aerith?" Suddenly his eyes widened. "Does she know about..."
"She has been informed that you are alive," Tseng seamlessly replied. "But not the reason behind your disappearance."
"I see. Well, that'll be one hell of a conversation," Zack joked, but his heart wasn't in it. If anything, it just hurt.
Tseng nodded. "Perhaps. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Tseng left the room, and the door silently swung shut behind him. Zack watched the door for a moment before exhaling and lying back down, his thoughts buzzing, his stomach twisting inside of him.
"Oh man, Spikey," he said, glancing at his unconscious friend. "What are we gonna do?"
Green-tinged bubbles shivered to the top of the mako pod. The world beyond the glass was hazy, indistinct, warped, and though Cloud could make out shapes shifting beyond the glass, he struggled to make out the details. A white lab coat here. A tray full of syringes and beakers in another. Zack, floating in the tube beside him, tapping the glass in a familiar pattern.
U – O – K? the pattern read.
Cloud tried to lift his hand to reply, but his arm ignored his request. Mako, thick and warm, pressed against his body. It seeped into his skin, already blistered and burned from their previous mako treatment, and he felt lightheaded. Sick. His stomach suddenly rolled and he closed his eyes against it, fought to keep the sudden nausea under control. He had thrown up in the mako pod once. It had been awful… but it wasn't the worst thing that had happened in the lab.
More tapping, a little more insistent now. U – O – K?
Cloud squinted his eyes open and blinked, twice. Yes.
Though he couldn't see it, Zack thinly smiled. Bubbles sifted through his fingers as he tapped out, L – I – A – R.
Cloud managed to grin at that, though it was more like a grimace. Was it that obvious? He blinked once – No, he was not lying – and closed his eyes again as his stomach flipped… then seized. His hands moved on their own accord and slammed against his mouth, bruising his lips, preventing the bile from escaping. The taste of acid and copper flooded his mouth, and he choked it back. He couldn't throw up. Not again. Hojo had been furious the first time it happened, and Cloud didn't want to experience the punishment again -
As if on cue, a shadow appeared in front of his pod. Cloud knew who it was without looking his eyes, and the knowledge made his stomach clench. He seized, again, his temple bouncing against the glass walls. Bubbles, furious, clawed their way to the top. Vomit seeped past his interlocked fingers. It was creamy and grey – the broth they had been given for breakfast – and starkly contrasted with the thick green liquid he was encased in.
"Again, sample C?"
The words were indistinct, warped, but pierced Cloud like a dagger. Hojo was back.
"What are we going to do with you?" Hojo continued, before he turned to his assistant. "Drag him out."
Cloud shook his head, but it only caused more vomit to escape. He didn't want this. He didn't want this, he couldn't do this again, it would kill him. It would actually kill him.
From the pod beside him, he heard Zack pounding on the glass. Bubbles hissed through the mako as Zack shouted something, but Cloud could no longer hear. His ears were ringing. Ringing like there was something in his head, pounding against the walls of his skull, and his eyes fluttered closed. For that he was grateful. If he was lucky… maybe he would stay unconscious for the entire procedure.
Zack wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was opening up the box of Aerith's letters, but then when he actually saw all eighty eight laid out… when he saw her delicate handwriting spelling out his name…
He lost it. He was grateful that the doors were closed and that Cloud was passed out, because he folded in on himself and began to sob. Great, body-wracking sobs that sounded as if they had been dragged out of his lungs with hooks. It was painful. It hurt, and every tear felt like he was being shot with another bullet, until all that was left of him was great, shuddering breaths and the taste of salt on his tongue.
When he had mostly composed himself, his eyes swollen and rimmed with red, he slowly closed the box. He wanted to read the letters – god, did he want to read them – but he couldn't. His hands were shaking, he felt like he had just swallowed barbed wire, and he was afraid. Afraid of what was in those letters. Afraid of getting his hopes up, just in case.
Swearing that he would read them after a good rest, he wiped his eyes and glanced back at Cloud. Cloud looked like he was having another nightmare. Small, choked sounds slipped past his chapped lips and his eyes danced behind his closed eyes. Every once in a while his fingers would twitch, as if trying to tap on glass…
A memory surged within Zack then, bright and bitter, and he quickly wiped away another tear that escaped. Sniffling a bit, he murmured, "Scoot over," and squeezed himself into Cloud's hospital bed. The bed was not made for two people, let alone two fully grown men, but Zack made it work. He slipped his arm beneath Cloud's head and, rolling Cloud over onto his side, pressed the smaller blond into his chest until he could feel Cloud's faint breathing against his neck.
Cloud made a small sound and he squirmed, as if trying to get away, when he suddenly stilled. It was as if he knew Zack was close, because his breathing calmed. To Zack's shock, Cloud was even strong enough to drag a hand upward and wrap his small hand in Zack's shirt. It was a strong grip, too – though Zack tried to pry Cloud's boney fingers off, Cloud unconsciously tightened his grip and refused to let go.
So Zack, with a dry chuckle, gave up – he should be relieved that Cloud was growing stronger, even if he still wasn't awake – and instead wrapped his arms around Cloud and pulled the smaller blond tight against him. He felt Cloud's thin chest rise and fall against his own, and tried to think positive thoughts. Thoughts like how he wasn't dead and that Cloud would finally get treatment for mako poisoning, instead of how Zack could feel every single one of Cloud's ribs press against his chest. Or how fragile Cloud's breathing seemed, how delicate, like the lightest shove could shatter him like glass.
Zack's hug eased at that.
"Don't worry, Cloud," Zack murmured, pressing his lips against Cloud's spiky, mussed hair. "I'll protect you."
As if Cloud heard, his vice grip on Zack's shirt lessened… but only slightly.
