EDIT: Uploading the file got rid of my formatting, so that's been fixed. Hopefully it adds a little more clarity!
EDIT 2: So me fixing it mostly worked, except I put a line in the wrong spot so my attempt at clarity only created more confusion... Classic. I am so sorry.
Hello! Thank you again for all of the reviews – I had so much fun reading them! It's so much fun heard about what you think of the story. Also, as someone noted, these chapters are pretty short – but it's only because of the daily updates. It's just too hard to write long chapters, edit them, and publish them in a single day while living the rest of my life, but I promise they'll get longer once we begin the weekly updates. In the mean, please enjoy the daily updates :)
But anyway, back to the story – I know a lot of people have been looking forward to this reunion, so I hope that I did it justice. Enjoy the chapter!
The afternoon light sifted through the window. The window was small, a mere slit in the whitewash wall, but it was welcome just the same. Sunlight cut gold across the floor and smeared itself across the two hospital beds, an IV pushed into the corner, a simple box resting on the nightstand. Pale curtains pillowed the air as a breeze pushed its way into the hospital room. With the breeze came the scent of concrete, sour pollution, the acidic hiss of mako...
… and Zack woke with a start.
Sweat clung to his skin and stuck his dark hair against his forehead, chilling him despite the warmth. He shivered. The tendrils of the nightmare were already receding into the back of his mind, hissing and clawing the entire way, and Zack shook his head against it.
Everything's okay, he reminded himself. It had become a mantra of sorts, something to hold onto when the nightmares felt a little too real. We've escaped. Everything's okay.
He pressed a clammy hand against his temple, exhaling. He wasn't sure when he had dozed off. It couldn't have been long, maybe thirty minutes at most, but it felt like it had been sleeping for years. Four years, to be exact.
Cloud made a small noise, jolting Zack out of his spiraling thoughts. Cloud needs me. It was such a familiar worry, so well-worn and used, that it was nearly therapeutic. He had worried about Cloud for so long, for so often – even before the lab – that it was like falling into a familiar bed. It was comfortable. And even better, it kept him from thinking about the current mess that was himself.
"Hey, buddy," Zack murmured. He forced himself to sit upright, wincing a little as his bandages stretched to accommodate him. But that was his only reaction – a wince, and then the soreness dissipated and he almost fell alright. A little tired, perhaps. But alright. Not at all like he took a hundred-something bullets to the chest just a day prior.
His fingers brushed against the old wounds, at the bullet holes that had already stitched themselves shut, and smiled a tight, bitter smile. Every scar was just another reminder of the treatements Hojo had done to him.
Had done to them.
Right.
Zack swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to Cloud's side, who had made another small, pained noise. "Hey, buddy," Zack said again, his voice low and soft. "How are you feeling?"
Cloud's eyelashes fluttered when he was cast in Zack's shadow, but it was a reflex reaction. There was no thought behind it, no awareness behind those dull, mako-laced eyes. Something in Zack's tightened, and he pushed some of Cloud's hair out of his face. The blond had darkened from being inside for so long, and if it caught the light a certain way, it glinted green. Undoubtedly from the sheer amount of mako Hojo had pumped into his body.
Zack sighed and let his hand fall. You saved him, the nurse had said. But Zack wasn't too sure about that. He had been touched at the time, of course. At the comfort her words brought, at her following smile, and the way her fingers squeezed his shoulder. He had wanted to believe her. God, had he wanted to believe her.
But looking at Cloud now, thin and pale and comatose, hooked up to an IV with a needle in his elbow… the sight of which still made Zack's stomach turn… it was a little more difficult to believe.
Shit.
Zack rubbed the back of his neck, an impatient, frustrated gesture. What do I do, Angeal? he wordlessly pleaded. He glanced out the window, at the orange-tinged sky beyond. What would you do?
No answer was forthcoming, not like he expected one anyway, and he sighed again. His morning optimism was all but gone, and he heavily sat down on the edge of Cloud's bed. The thin mattress groaned beneath his weight as he clasped his hands on his knees.
I need to do something, he knew. His leg bounced. His first reaction was to do some squats, but his hands clenched further and he remained rooted in place. His knuckles were white from strain. Squats were good exercise, sure, but he needed to do something more. Something productive.
Cloud, behind him, made another small, desperate noise.
All the fight went out of Zack upon hearing it, and he reached back and placing a hand on Cloud's cheek. His cheekbone was prominent against his pale skin, too prominent for Zack's taste, and his expression remained empty, blank, untouchable.
"You doin' okay?" Zack asked, again not expecting much of an answer. He watched Cloud for a moment. A moment turned into two -
- You saved him -
- and he tore his gaze away, his breath hitching as the nurse's words cut into him like a blade. What's wrong with me, he silently demanded. His hands were shaking. He needed a walk, needed to clear his head because he wasn't any good to anyone like this. Wasn't good for himself, and certainly not good for Cloud.
Forcing a smile, he placed a hand on Cloud's head and managed, "Don't worry, Spikey. I'll be right back, okay? Just... getting a little air." He moved to stand upright, but something made him pause. Maybe it was Cloud – maybe it was the bleak expression Zack thought he imagined, or maybe it was the sudden twist of guilt he felt. Regardless, he found himself continuing, "Next time I'll bring you too, okay? Some sunlight will do you so good." His smile eased, lost a little bit of tension, and he added, "You're looking a little pasty there, buddy."
He wasn't sure if Cloud heard him, but it made Zack feel better all the same. Ruffling Cloud's hair once more, which Cloud would have hated if he was awake, Zack grinned and headed out of the room. The moment the door opened, he was bathed in iridescent lights that had him instinctively tensing. The harsh scent of antiseptic also twisted his stomach – there was a reason he always kept their window open – but he aggressively shoved those thoughts out of his head. In fact, he almost laughed at himself. Him, SOLDIER 1st Class, afraid of some stupid lights and medicine? Angeal was probably rolling over in his grave.
That I put him in, his mind automatically supplied.
That sobered him. Zack pushed some hair out of his eyes, and his slippered feet ringing hollow against the walls. He walked with no destination in mind. That thought, the thought of killing his mentor, was easier to push aside. After all, Aerith had helped him through that particular trauma. Had held him as he cried against her, unable to help or control himself. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the way she smelled in that moment – like sunshine and flowers and warm earth – and could taste the salt on his tongue, mixing with dirt as Aerith brushed her thumbs along his cheeks and murmured reassurances in his ear.
He missed her.
And missing her was a physical ache in his chest, tight and painful to the point of breaking. All of a sudden he wanted to turn back to the room, grab that box of letters, and read every single one. Read them all until they were scattered on the floor along with his bloody, bruised heart. But maybe it'll be okay, he reminded himself. After all, the first one wasn't so bad. In fact, it had been really, really good. But what about the rest of them? What if, as the letters continued, he had to read about how she slowly lost her faith in him? How he slowly lost her trust? Her love? It had been four years of no contact, and regardless of the reasons, she must have moved on with her life. He wouldn't have been surprised. That's what he would have done.
Zack sharply exhaled, a tight hiss of emotion whistling between his teeth. I need to accept that, he told himself. No – ordered himself, like he was an unruly infantryman being berated by a superior officer. And as he found himself stopped in front of a vending machine, seeing it without really seeing it, he reminded himself that acceptance would be for the best. Did he really want Aerith worrying about him for four straight years? Wondering if he left her, if he never wanted to see her again, if he forgot all about her and was dating someone else?
The mere thought of her giving up on him made him feel physically ill. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't bear the other side of it. He didn't want to imagine her wasting four years of feeling sad, or betrayed, or… or anything, really. He wanted her to be happy. And maybe – just maybe – that meant he had to let go, and let the letters speak for themselves.
He forehead tapped against the cool plastic of the vending machine, and his eyes slowly closed. Maybe it's for the best, he reminded himself. Besides, I have Cloud to worry about now. The thought of the younger blond – first his laugh over their shared country-boy-reactor joke, then his limp body as Zack half-carried, half-dragged him out of the lap – made his stomach clench. What if Cloud could no longer take care of himself after he wakes up? What if he's damaged, but permanently?
Now Zack felt ill, but for an entirely different reason. That was just one more thought he had to come to terms with.
Maybe, once he's better and we can leave the hospital, I'll become a mercenary. He briefly opened his eyes to glance at his hand as he clenched it, testing its strength, its grip. Hell, I could probably go out there right now. Start making some money. He sighed and closed his eyes. How much will this hospital visit cost, anyway?
"Excuse me," came a feminine voice, "are you using that?"
A new voice snapped him out of his thoughts, which had admittedly spiraled out of control. "Ah, no." The words were a stammer as he snapped upright. "I'm… not."
Then there was a giggle. A painfully familiar giggle, one that tugged on all of his heartstrings. Zack sharply inhaled. He was suddenly afraid to turn around.
"Need some gil?" the voice – the sweet, kind, caring voice – continued. There was a hint of humor in her words. Like there was a joke somewhere, but he had missed the punchline. "Or maybe something else?"
Zack was idly aware his hands were shaking. He wanted to turn around, badly, more than anything he had ever wanted – but something inside of him froze. What if it wasn't her? What if it was just someone that sounded like her? She wouldn't be here, she shouldn't, she would be at her church in the slums tending the flowers and in no way would she be -
- and two thin arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, squeezed him, short circuiting all of his thoughts. His stomach tightened as he sucked in breath, as if he hadn't been hugged but had hit by a truck.
In return, Zack could feel her inhale his scent. Could feel her heart beating against his back, so strong for such a small thing, and he could feel his heart beating in rhythm. Her hug was so gentle, but he felt himself breaking at her touch. Cracking. Splintering to reveal every jagged piece of him, and he so desperately wanted to pull those fragments back in order. When he turned around to face her – her, she was actually here – he wanted her to see someone strong. Someone happy, someone who she could rely on, someone who could give her all of the answers that she was undoubtedly dying to ask.
"I missed you," she murmured into his back.
And just like that, every flimsy defense he had scrambled together crashed and fell apart. Something very much like a sob clawed out of his throat.
She always had that affect on him. With the smallest phrase she could burrow in him, make him lay bare all of his thoughts, and he found himself turning, felt his eyes already burning before something hot and wet cut a track down his cheek. Two pairs of bright emerald eyes looked up at him, smiling at him despite the shine in her own eyes, and… and…
"I'm so sorry."
The words had choked out of him before he consciously recognized them – hell, he wasn't even sure why he said that – and then his arms were wrapped around her frame, pulling her in as if she was his lifeline and he was a man drowning at see. His breath shuddered between them, filling the silence. "I – I'm so sorry, I didn't -"
"Shh." He felt her hands shift until her fingers were interlaced with his dark hair and she was pulling his head onto her shoulder, until his face was pressed into the thin sleeve of her dress, and she had moved to her tiptoes to accommodate him. "You don't have to say anything." Her voice echoed in him, its touch so gentle that it was almost cruel. He felt her warm breath against his neck as she continued, "I understand."
Zack squeezed his eyes shut, not caring where they were, that there were others around, and was only vaguely aware that Tseng had murmured something to someone and was ushering people out of the waiting room. When he blinked his eyes open for a moment, he could see Tseng watching them through the blur of tears – a torn expression, a sad smile – until the Turk left as well, and he and Aerith were alone. He closed his eyes and inhaled into her shoulder, her hair. All he could feel was Aerith. Aerith's words. Aerith's presence, warm and kind and gentle, filling all of the brutal, bleeding cracks inside of him.
I understand, she had told him.
And, in that moment, as his body shuddered with every gasping, salt-tinged breath and she shifted against him, smiling through her own tears… he believed her.
Mountains cut a jagged outline into the horizon, a horizon unmarred by clouds or birds or... much of anything, really. The brilliant sunlight reflected off of their white peaks, and the snow reflected that light a thousand different ways. Like diamonds, Cloud thought as the snow crunched beneath his shoes. Like thousands of diamonds.
"At least someone is keeping up!"
A voice, familiar and yet completely foreign, jolted Cloud out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, his green scarf scratching at his chin, and realized that someone was watching him. Someone with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and wearing a SOLDIER's uniform. There was a SOLDIER's sword strapped onto the SOLDIER's back.
Cloud blinked, confused, when his mouth involuntarily opened and he heard himself say, "Well, I'm a bit of a country boy myself."
It was as if a shadow had passed over the sun. His chest tightened – Why did I say that? - and threatened to crush his suddenly pounding heart. He had the sense that this conversation was important. That it had meant a lot to him, but his head hurt, and he couldn't remember why…
The dark-haired SOLDIER visibly brightened at Cloud's response. "Oh, really?" he said, grinning. The sun glinted off his blade's edge, highlighting its wicked sharpness. "Where from?"
"I..." Cloud began, but drew a blank. His brow furrowed in confusion. "I..."
Cloud blinked his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that the world had a strange green tint to it, one that didn't seem to go away no matter how many times he blinked, and the second was he had a crushing headache. The sort that felt like someone was hammering a spike between his eyes, something big and burning hot, and his hand instinctively jerked up to apply any sort of pressure – but a tug at his elbow, and a flash of pain, made him pause.
Wha?
Grimacing, he glanced downward only to frown in confusion. Something in my elbow? It took a moment for what he was seeing – a syringe taped onto the crook of his arm, a tube trailing out of it – to pierce the fog of his mind, but once it did, panic took hold. Without thinking, he ripped it out of his skin and threw it to the side, his breathes rapid and sharp. Something sticky and warm beaded from the hole and trickled down his arm, but he didn't notice. He was afraid of that needle. Terrified, but it was gone, it was out, and it gave him a small measure of relief.
Which led him to his third thought: Where am I?
With shaky limbs he managed to push himself more upright. The effort made him lightheaded, and he had to close his eyes and rest a moment before taking in the world. When he felt a bit better, he opened his eyes and glanced at his body, tucked underneath plain white covers, before he dragged upward and realized that he did not recognize his surroundings. No – there was recognition there. Some small part of him instinctivly shrank back against the iridescent lights, the sharp smell of antiseptic, the roll of bandages lying on the empty bed beside him.
Why?
No, it didn't matter why. All he knew was that he wanted out. Desperately. Like he had never wanted anything before, and it made his insides tremble at just the thought of needed to leave, needed to leave now, before Hojo -
His brow knotted. Hojo? The name rolled about in his mind, folded in on itself like origami, became smaller and smaller until it was little more than a vague fear and hopelessness. When he opened his eyes again – he did not remember ever closing them – he was exhausted and trembling.
Out, his mind reminded, spurring him back to action. Need to leave. Need to go now.
Cloud grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him but they held, miraculously, and he took one unsteady step towards the door, and then another. The room seemed to be shifting underneath him and he felt like he was on a boat, a rocky one. He hated it, and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself until the rolling stopped. His eyes flicked towards the crook of his elbow, but the piercing had already closed. Even the trickle of blood had dried.
His lips pursed into something like a frown. Something screamed that that was wrong, that the needle hole had healed far too quickly, but another part of him urged that he needed to focus. That he needed to leave. Leave before anyone noticed that he was conscious and awake, because if they found him they'd do things to him...
A small gasp passed Cloud's lips as his stomach twisted, and he stumbled into the door. Sweat pricked his brow. For a moment, the world seemed to go soft on the edges, a little more blurred, a little more shiny… but he managed to blink it away. He had to focus. He needed to leave, and he couldn't get caught.
The mere thought of getting caught, of being forced back here – wherever here was – twisted his stomach. Twisted, and suddenly he was nauseous – a startlingly familiar feeling – and he slammed a hand over his mouth, his breaths short and uneven. He would not be sick. Not here. If he did, bad things would happen, he was sure of it. He didn't want that.
Once the nausea had subsided, if only enough for Cloud to catch his breath, he cracked open the door…
… only for the door to suddenly be pulled out of his hands. He looked up, blinking in confusion, and he found himself staring into a pair of very startled, very blue eyes. Cloud went still. He knew that face – the dark hair, the x-shaped scar, the eyes. Knew it, but...
The man was the first to break the silence. "Cloud?" he managed. His voice was little more than a breathless gasp. "You're… You're awake." He reached forward, beginning to say something else, something like thank god and I was worried, but Cloud was focused on the hand. At the torn nails, the scars, at everything it represented.
Gonna get caught.
Cloud's breath hitched as the thought tore across his ragged, foggy mind.
Need to leave now.
The order snapped something with him and his eyes suddenly burned, a sharp flare that made the world go green, and he slammed his hands into the man's chest and pushed. Cloud wasn't sure where the strength came from. It certainty wasn't him but he didn't care, didn't care and when the man grunted and stumbled backward – more surprised than hurt – Cloud had moved passed him and was running. His bare feet slapped against the tiled floor in a rapid staccato. He was dimly aware of a startled shout behind him, something strikingly familiar, maybe a name…
Can't get caught.
His strangled breathes burned his throat. His head ached, threatening to split in half, and he pressed a hand against it. Everything hurt.
Can't go back.
With his other hand, Cloud threw open the emergency exit door, his pants loud and gasping. The footsteps were getting closer. His eyes burned, his head hurt, the world was tinted an even stronger shade of green, but he found himself sprinting down the stairwell anyway. Desperation was his only motivation, and he was vaguely aware that he tripped at some point, but he was back up in seconds. He didn't even feel the pain. Didn't even care, because he leaving.
And he was never coming back.
I hope you liked the longer chapter! I had a lot to fit into it this time around.
What did you guys think of Zack and Aerith's reunion? To be honest, it was difficult to write only because there were honestly SO many different ways I wanted to go about it. What mood did I want to set? What would Zack be feeling, and what would Aerith be expecting? And how could I make it fit into where I want the story to go? I couldn't decide on just one way, so I decided to write and write and write and see what came of it. I was pretty happy with the results! And since so many of you were looking forward to it, I hope that you were happy, too :)
Also, I wanted to mention something about Cloud in this chapter. Because Zack is alive in this story, I feel like Cloud's dynamic changes a bit. For example, certain items (like a certain sword) don't end up in Cloud's possession, which was a huge part of his persona in the games. He was also a very complex character to begin with, so I'm really going to enjoy writing him and learning more about him as this story progresses. Ahh I wish I could talk about what's coming up, but I can't spoil it too much.
I'm also aware that some of you wanted Aerith to bring Tifa to the hospital for our favorite blond, but I have another scene in mind for them. It'll be coming up soon, I promise! As well as a certain reactor bombing mission ;)
