Happy Friday! I hope everyone has had a good - and safe - week :)

So funny story - last Friday was my birthday, and I totally forgot about it (though thankfully my boyfriend didn't!). So as a belated celebration / a gift to all of you, I made this chapter twice as long :) Enjoy!


The morning light sifted through the window in golden ribbons, and dust, brightened by its warm glow, danced peacefully in the light. The light continued into the room and ran a soft finger against the cold floor. The two empty beds. The unused IV stand in the corner, the thin tubes carefully coiled, the needle cleaned, sterilized, and removed.

Zack sat on the bed, his back to the light and his expression cast in shadow. On his lap sat Tseng's report. Though the report was thin, not even a dozen pages, it lay heavily on him. It was as if it were made of stone instead of paper, and he felt crushed beneath its weight.

Scowling, he flipped through the report. More than half of the report had been redacted, hidden behind thick black bars, and what remained wasn't very useful. Just vague explanations and descriptions on some eco-terrorist group called Avalanche. He took a bite of toast, but did not taste it.

Avalanche... He chewed, swallowed. Where have I heard that name before?

"So," Zack began, speaking to the suited Turk across from him, "anything you wanted to mention about this?" He lifted the heavily-redacted report in accusation, and the pages bent under their own weight. "Not exactly useful, you know."

Tseng took the report from Zack hand with the elegance of a dancer. Tseng's fingers were thin, Zack noted, and looked as if they made to hold a violin instead of a gun or a sword. Zack's gaze flicked to his own hands; the pale scars spiderwebbing his tan skin, the callouses, and his hand tightened into a fist. How different they were.

"My apologies," Tseng said, unapologetically. "But censorship is standard when employing contractors on the field." Contractors what Tseng's new favorite word when it came to Zack. Zack figured that it sounded a little more professional than mercenary, after all. "As it is," Tseng continued, "we werefortunate that you were allowed to join this mission in the first place."

"But technically, it's not me that joined… is it?" Zack took another bite of toast, and felt a small measure of satisfaction at Tseng's briefly exasperated expression. He continued, "I have a feeling you didn't mention my name when applying for my contract, did you? After all, I'm supposed to be dead." He paused, waiting for Tseng's reaction, but continued when none seemed forthcoming. "That's what Cissnei told me anyway, when she picked Cloud and I up outside of Midgar. That Hojo thinks that Cloud and I are dead and buried."

Cloud. As always, remembering Cloud's escape made his chest ache – and not from his freshly cracked ribs, or the pull of his new bandages. It went far deeper than that.

Tseng cast Zack an unreadable look. "Yes, that's right," he said. But there was something in his tone that narrowed Zack's gaze, and he found himself tensing despite not knowing why. "And you are correct that I did not give out your true name. You'll be working under an alias, and in complete anonymity." He pinned Zack with his dark gaze, and added, "It's up to you to keep it that way."

Zack knew a threat when he heard one, and a tic worked in his jaw. "What will happen if I don't?"

"Nothing good," Tseng promised. "Even the Turks wouldn't be able to protect you then."

He didn't need to say protecting from what… or who.

"I don't need protecting," Zack said quickly. But it was lie, and he knew that Tseng knew that as well. Zack's hands unconsciously drifted across his chest, and his fingertips traced the bandages' edges as his mood sour further. Poor sleep and worry were making him short-tempered. That wasn't good; he needed a level head for this mission, not to mention that he also wanted to be at his best when and he visited Aerith later.

Aerith.

Just remembering her name, her face, eased the tight knot of tension that had coiled inside of him. He could almost feel her slender fingers smoothing all of his jagged edges, one-by-one, even though she wasn't even here. Her memory always had that affect on him, and he inhaled. It was a little easier to breathe.

I'll have to buy her something nice, he thought, glancing out the window. I have four years to make up, after all.

The thought cheered him a bit. "Don't worry," Zack continued, and turned back to Tseng. Tseng minutely scowled at Zack's smile, the smirk in his eyes, his suddenly sunnier disposition. "If I can bust ass from Nibelheim to Midgar with a comatose Spikey," he added, leaning forward, "while dodging the infantry and the Turks the entire time, then I think I'll be able to handle one small intel-gathering mission."

"Not the entire time," Tseng gently reminded.

Zack's sudden optimism wilted a bit – Tseng was right, he and Cloud hadn't made it all the way to Midgar by themselves – but he forced it out of his mind. Sure, maybe they had needed a little help towards the end, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that it had been a hopeless situation, but he hadn't given up. He could be proud of that. He should be proud of that.

"Don't worry about the details," Zack replied, and winked at Tseng, rending the Turk momentarily speechless. "You'll get wrinkles."

Tseng didn't really know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Clearing his throat, he only continued, "To return to the subject at hand… You will be accompanying Reno and Rude throughout Midgar. I just returned from debriefing them on your situation, and they have agreed to assist when possible. You, Reno, and Rude will first patrol the upper plates, where a potential Avalanche member was last seen, before moving to the lower plates."

"You mean the slums," Zack stated.

Tseng's lips thinned. "Yes," he confirmed. "The slums."

"We should be searching the lower plates first." Zack shook his head. "I've been to the upper plates, and Cloud wouldn't be there. Trust me," he added at Tseng's incredulous look. "You don't know Spi – don't know Cloud like I do."

"You would do well to recall that Strife isn't in his right mind," Tseng smoothly replied. He took a step closer to the door. "Listen to your orders, mercenary. You will be searching the upper plates first."

"But that's a waste of time," Zack protested.

Tseng's eyes flashed. "Is the Turk ability to gather intelligence and our nearly unlimited access to restricted areas a waste of time?" Zack blinked – had he managed to make Tseng actually upset? Like, he had seen Tseng mad before, but visibly mad…

"I know that you are impatient to find Strife," Tseng continued, "but believe me when I say this is your best option. Recall that Midgar is owned by Shinra. You, essentially, will be working underneath the nose of the same company that locked you and Strife away for four years." Zack's expression darkened, but before he speak, Tseng seamlessly added, "But now that you have full support of the Turks, you can search for Strife unhindered. A rare opportunity indeed," he pointedly added, "and you would be wise to not let this chance pass."

Zack blinked, stunned at Tseng's lecture, before he turned away, dully chastised. His breath whistled between his teeth. Tseng certainly had an articulate way of making him feel young and stupid. "Whatever," Zack finally said, and impatiently ran a hand through his hair. "When do we leave?"

Tseng glanced at his watch, and stated, "Two hours." Reaching for the door, he continued, "I'll collect you at that time."

Two hours sounded like an eternity – Zack wanted to search for Cloud now – but he wasn't in the mood for a second lecture. "Sounds good to me," he said instead. Tseng nodded, his expression almost relieved, and opened the door… but then Zack's eyes widened with dawning horror. "Hold on. Wait." Tseng paused, one eyebrow arched. "Where's my sword?" Zack's hands clenched on the bed sheets, his knuckles white. "I had it with me in the Midgar wastes, but then…"

But then I passed out, Zack recalled with a sinking feeling. His head snapped to the window, and he stared through the glass as if he was looking over the Midgar cliffs instead of the jagged Midgar skyline. Don't tell me… Is it somewhere in the Midgar wastes? He blanched. Oh god, what if -

"Ah, your sword," Tseng said suddenly, cutting him off. Zack's head snapped to him, wide-eyed, as the Turk continued, "The sword in the armory, along with other mission-appropriate gear. Though," the Turk added, "I would recommend leaving it if you journey to the upper plates, as the Buster Sword is very distinctive. The wrong person could easily identify you."

Zack stared at Tseng as if he had grown a second head. "I'm bringing it," he stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tseng sighed, betraying just how exasperated he was. "I would not recommend -"

"I'm bringing it," Zack repeated, and there was an edge to his tone that had Tseng sighing again.

"If you must." With that Tseng pushed the door open, and a cold draft whispered into the room. "I will return in two hours to escort you to the armory." He stepped into the hallway, but then he paused. Zack frowned, expectant. "Fair, what do you know of mako poisoning?" Tseng suddenly asked.

Zack blinked in surprise. "Mako poisoning?" Talk about changing subjects, he thought with a scowl, before lifting his hands in surrender. "To be honest, not much, besides what I experienced with Cloud." And he tried not to think about that - the perpetual coma, the thousand-mile stare, the vomiting, the constant trembling, the occasional mumble. "Health science wasn't my forte back in SOLDIER training."

"I see." Tseng's lips parted as if he was going to say more… but then his expression slipped back into indifference and he turned back to the hallway. "Like I said," he began at Zack's questioning stare, "I'll return in two hours. You'd do well to prepare yourself, and perhaps finish your breakfast. You'll need the strength."

Zack cast a look at his breakfast tray – toast, plain oatmeal, and orange juice – before grinning at Tseng. "Yes, mother. Anything else?"

"No," Tseng deadpanned, and quite nearly slammed the door behind him.


"Don't struggle, Sample C." A voice echoed through the dark, but the words were twisted, their meaning lost. "This'll hurt more if you do." There was a ringing in Cloud's ears. Ringing like a thousand birds were chirping in his head, and suddenly Cloud was thinking about birds. That he couldn't remember the last time he saw a bird. Or the sky, he recalled. Suddenly his eyes were burning, his throat tight. Something hot and wet traced a path down his cheek.

There was a harsh sigh above him, exasperated and annoyed. Then there was a rustle of fabric - "I told you not to give C so much anesthesia," - and then Cloud realized something had been covering his face, realized that he hadn't been able to see for a while now, and terror spiked through him. He wanted it off, wanted it gone, but then he noticed that he couldn't move his arms. And that he couldn't feel his arm, or his fingers even, and suddenly he was strikingly aware of how cold he was. His teeth chattered, a hushed staccato. It was even colder than home during winter, and then he found himself missing home. Missing watching the snow fall, and missing hiking through the mountains, and missing hot chocolate. And missing Mom...

Fire flashed behind his closed eyes and a faint sound escaped his lips, a cross between a breath and a choke.

"Be quiet, C." He felt a pinch at the crook of his elbow; a pinch, a sudden hiss of pain, and he made a small sound deep in his throat. But then it was over, just as quickly as it had come, and then he was falling back into the dark. Falling… and falling… and falling…


Cloud woke up with a jolt.

An unfamiliar room flickered across his vision and he jackknifed upright, his chest heaving. A cold sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, and he shakily pushed the golden strands aside. His dream, disjointed and heavy and unfamiliar, took its time fading back into the dark in his mind. Yet even after it was gone, the sensations still lingered on his skin. The cold. Something strapping him down to a table. A pinch in the crook of his elbow, sudden and sharp. Cloud winced and rubbed the spot with his hand in an attempt to sooth that particular feeling away. It only semi-worked, so he tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

His gaze, luminous in the dark, flicked across the room. At the bed opposite him, the covers mused. At the sunlight peaking through the window curtains. At his own clothes, foreign and a size too large, and wondered, Where am I? But even as the thought crossed his mind, recollection bubbled into his awareness, warm and welcome. This was Tifa's apartment.

Sudden relief made him lightheaded, and he had to lean back against the wall to keep from sliding over. Tifa's apartment, he thought again, and the small fact wrapped around his mind like a blanket, calming him, comforting him. He held his trembling hands tight against his chest. Safe, he told himself. It's safe now.

Though he wasn't sure from what, exactly.

His heart's harsh staccato slowly began to even as he gazed at the room with fresh eyes. Memories, disjointed and blurry, tugged at him in sudden flashes. Rain hitting his cheeks. The slap of bare feet on a metal stairwell. Someone familiar shouting his name. Then tripping in an alleyway, a hiss of pain as skin tore, followed by the harsh whistle of a train echoing in his head.

And then there was Tifa.

Cloud closed his eyes as her image swelled within him. Suddenly his fragmented memories were all Tifa. He could almost see her face hovering inches from his, could almost feel her strong arm wrapped around his waist. Could hear her voice as she spoke to him, her tone soft and strong, as she guided him down the road...

… but suddenly it wasn't Tifa but someone else holding him upright, a man with dark hair, an easy smile, and bright, mako-blue eyes...

Cloud's eyes snapped open. Zack? he thought, but then pain slit across his temple. He pressed his hand against it, his breath whistling between his teeth. But that's… impossible. He blinked, his vision going blurry with every pointed ache. Zack's dead. At Nibelheim, on the stairs, I saw him... A strangled noise tore out of his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory, against the pain drilling its way between his eyes, against whatever had happened afterwards, and then…

… and then it was gone. The memories shattered into fragments and faded back into his mind's murky dark, and he sagged against the wall. Cloud found himself blinking at his surroundings once again, uncertain. Confused.

Where…?

Oh, right. The answer came immediately: He was in Tifa's apartment. He stared blindly into the far wall, feeling lightheaded and strangely breathless. He lifted a hand to his face. His fingers, pale and scarred, trembled in front of him.

But that's not what grabbed his attention.

The hell? Distracted from the memories and his crushing headache, Cloud opened and closed his hand. His frown deepened; the muscles seemed to be responding much more quickly than before. It was if there had been a faint delay previously, like a small block between him wanting to move his hand and his hand actually moving, but now that barrier seemed to have been broken down. His hand snapped open and closed with hardly a thought and he effortlessly quickened the pace, his fingers little more than a blur in front of him. How is this -

A low growl from his stomach snapped him back to the present. With a start, he realized that he was starving. Like he hadn't eaten in days.

His freaky hands could wait, he decided. He lifted his head, and noticed that there was a refrigerator across from him. Tifa wouldn't mind, right? But as he began to push himself up to his feet, he was suddenly upright, his arms cartwheeling as he nearly slammed back into the wall.

It's not just my hands, he suddenly realized with dawning horror. Adrenaline burned through his veins, shrill and burning, as he sat frozen for a moment. He was almost afraid to move, afraid that he would accidentally launch himself in the wrong direction. Everything was responding much faster than before.

But his stomach gurgled again, reminding him that unless he wanted to stay hungry, he had to get to the fridge. Sucking in breath, he gingerly pushed himself off the wall and took a careful step forward, and then another. Every step was little too quick, a little too shaky, a little too precise, and it took all of his focus to not trip over his own feet. It made him uneasy. He didn't like being unfamiliar with his own body. Didn't like feeling like his body wasn't his anymore.

And yet, the strangest aspect to all of this was that physically, he felt almost fine. His earlier headache had vanished. His bruised elbows and knees were nearly completely healed. In fact, strangely enough, he felt pretty good. Certainly much better than yesterday.

It also occurred to him on his slow, careful walk to the fridge that Tifa wasn't in the apartment anymore. He vaguely recalled her saying last night that she was picking up dinner, and that she had still been gone even after he had finished showering. He also remembered that she still hadn't come back before his sheer exhaustion overpowered his desire to stay awake and wait for her. In fact, he had no idea what time he had eventually fallen asleep, and had no idea what time it was now, for that matter.

So did she ever come back? he wondered as he gingerly opened the refrigerator door, taking care not to move too quickly and accidentally rip off the handle. Or did she leave again early this morning? His eyes flicked across its meager contents until they rested on a to-go container, one that had a sticky note attached to it.

Cloud, was all the note read.

She must have left it for me last night, he realized, and though it had been years, Cloud immediately recognized Tifa's handwriting. His eyes traced the hard edges of her letters, their delicate curves, the way she made the "C" swallow the rest of his name, before his attention returned to the container itself. It was filled with rice and some sort of thick, brown stew, and it took him a moment to realize that it was not stew but curry. His eyes widened a fraction. He couldn't even remember the last time he had curry – maybe back in the infantry? - and his mouth watered as he grabbed it and carefully returned to his corner. He ate the curry cold, and it was by far the best thing he had ever tasted.

But when he finished, he had a new conundrum: Tifa was still gone, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He had no idea when she would get back, and while he toyed with the idea of going outside and looking for her, the thought of leaving the apartment made him uneasy. He didn't want to go outside alone.

So he decided to be productive and practice walking instead. He started with short walks from his corner to the bed, and when he didn't trip or accidentally fling himself into the wall, he then added the distance from his corner to the door. When his gate had smoothed and his balance evened, and he decided that he could certainly pass as normal if he paid attention, he decided to brush his teeth. If Tifa wasn't back when he was done, then he would look for her. Just in case she was in trouble.

But when Cloud entered the small restroom, he froze. His reflection – unfamiliar, strange, and foreign – stared back at him, mirroring his wide-eyed, stunned expression. Slowly, smoothly, he lifted his hand until his fingertips hovered centimeters over his eyes.

His glowing, sea-green, mako-enhanced eyes.

His breath trembled between his teeth. A part of him wanted to backpedal, to stop staring, to run out of the room and go somewhere else. And yet he remained frozen in spot, his knees locked and feet rooted, as the mako-green in his eyes flared and pulsed against his pupil, a ring of fire against the night, before bleeding into the surrounding, familiar blue.

These aren't my eyes.

Nausea welled up within him and he clamped his mouth shut, slammed a hand against his lips, until he could taste copper. He couldn't be sick. He wouldn't, he had to keep it together, and so he stared at his unfamiliar, SOLDIER eyes until his stomach stopped twisting and his hands didn't tremble as much. He stared until his eyes lost their novelty. Finally, he lowered his hand to grip the edge of the sink instead. He was only numbly aware to not grip too hard, that he didn't want to break the sink, that that would cause problems for Tifa.

When did this happen?

The thought slipped through his mind, unbidden and unwanted, and adrenaline made the mako flare brighter until the emerald practically swallowed the surrounding sapphire. Cloud thickly swallowed, and continued to stare. Stare at how the mako seemed to breath like a living thing, like it was a foreign thing alive within him, a parasite of some sort.

When? He squeezed his eyes shut at the faint throb between his eyes. How? He didn't remember getting SOLDIER therapy. He didn't recall even making it into SOLDIER. All he remembered was...

The throb expanded into a steady ache, and he clenched his jaw against it. Did something happen after the… the reactor? His mind snapped back to his most recent memory: his home burning to the ground, the taste of ash and smoke in the air, the sharp tang of the mako reactor. Sephiroth, his slitted eyes green with burning mako, as he skewered him through the lung…

Cloud's breath hitched and he slapped his hand against his chest, against the ghostly feeling of being impaled.

What... What happened after? His gaze dropped down, as if reassuring himself the sword was no longer there, that it was long gone. How did I get… here?

He gazed back into the main room into Tifa's apartment. I don't remember. He didn't remember, everything was black between Nibelheim and here – wherever the hell here was – and everything he did remember was snippets. Fragments of fragments, just disjointed images of green and cold, and he closed his eyes against them. Why can't I… A shudder shivered down his back and his eyes involuntarily flicked to the trash can. His old clothes were still inside, and he could make out their dull gray cotton, the droplets of dried blood staining the arms and knees, the dirt stains. He stared at them as if they had all of the answers. Like they knew something he didn't.

Those are hospital clothes, he realized suddenly. He almost pulled them out of the trash can, if only to inspect them further, but then he decided that he didn't want to. That he didn't want to touch them. Didn't want anything to do with them in fact, so he stared instead. Maybe I was in an… an accident? After the reactor? He glanced at the mirror again, saw how brightly his mako eyes were burning, and tore his gaze away. Maybe something to do with SOLDIER therapy?

He turned his attention back to his clothes in the trash. He didn't remember what had happened, but an accident seemed to fit the situation just fine. Deciding to stick with it, at least for the time being, he inhaled a steadying breath and turned back to the mirror.

His eyes weren't the only thing that seemed different. If he looked closely, he also looked different. He seemed older, somehow. He was taller than he remembered. Thinner, too. If he lifted his shirt, he could clearly make out the valleys between his ribs, could see the hills his hips made in his black pants. But his shoulders were also broader. His chest was wider, somehow, and his face had lost some of its baby fat. His jaw was more defined, his cheekbones more pronounced. Cloud ran his fingers against his jaw, wide-eyed, uncertain. He didn't recognize himself anymore. It was like staring at a stranger, like it was a stranger's body, and he was just visiting.

He leaned back, stunned. What happened to me?

Suddenly, the front door clicked open. It was so unexpected that Cloud jumped, and that small jolt was enough to have him falling backwards. He hit the wall with a dull thud just as the door opened, and Tifa stepped into the apartment.

"Cloud?" she called out. Light streamed into the room as she turned on a light.

For a moment, Cloud didn't respond. He couldn't. Like himself, Tifa looked different somehow, like she was older, too. But not older older, like age older, but more... mature, or something. It had Cloud's mind reeling. He couldn't make sense of it. How long had he been in the… well, the hospital, judging by his old clothes in the trash. Days? No, couldn't have been days, he thought. Maybe months? More?

"Cloud?" Tifa said again, louder now that she noticed he wasn't asleep in the corner, before she noticed him on the bathroom floor, staring at her. Her eyes widened a fraction until she realized that he wasn't hurt, just dazed and staring at her. "What are you doing?" she finally asked. There was something like genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Um." He had no good response to that. He wasn't even sure how to explain, how to summarize his fragmented thoughts and emotions, so he didn't bother. "I… tripped?"

Tifa frowned at him. "If you say so..." she replied, and then sat in the desk chair, sighing a little, before she turned back to him and smiling. But it was a tight smile, maybe even a little bit sad, and she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Cloud grimaced, a faint tightening of his expression. He didn't want to talk about how he was feeling. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"Cloud?" Tifa suddenly sat a bit straighter, as if sensing his silent distress. "You're a little pale. Did something happen while I was gone?"

The last thing Cloud wanted Tifa to do was worry, so he shook his head no. "I... Are you okay?" he asked instead, changing the subject. He slowly, carefully, picked himself off the floor, and was grateful that he had practiced walking before Tifa had arrived. He thought he did a good job as he slowly sat on the floor across from her bed, and leaned against the wall. As Tifa continued to watch him, her brow furrowed with worry, he continued, "You seem... not happy."

No one could accuse Cloud of being eloquent, but Tifa only smiled and said, "I'm fine." But she said it a little too quickly, and Cloud's lips twitched in a frown. Seeing that Cloud was going to comment further, she sighed and added, "I was just at the bar."

Cloud's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Bar?" he said, and he nearly added, This early? But he kept his mouth shut, just in case she took it the wrong way.

"Yes, the bar. But not for a drink or anything," she added, chuckling at his expression. "I work there, remember? But don't worry if you don't," she added, when Cloud's expression tipped from concern to confusion. "You were pretty out of it yesterday."

Cloud couldn't help but agree with that one, and nodded.

"So, how are you feeling?" Tifa asked again. "Better? Worse?"

"Better," Cloud promised. It wasn't a lie, not entirely. All he remembered of yesterday was bits and pieces of fragments of memories, and trying to remember it all felt a bit like trying to sing a song, but only knowing every fourth word, every fifth note. There was nothing solid to hold on to. Nothing of substance. It was like his head was made of cotton. Compared to that, he was doing pretty well.

Which reminded him. He pulled his legs tighter against his chest, already feeling heat flush his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Traced the patterns in the old carpet, and said, "And… thanks." His voice was a whisper in the room, little more than a ghost passing through. "For… well…"

His voice trailed off entirely when Tifa placed a hand on his arm. It was soft, and warm, and reassuring, and it took all of Cloud's control not to jerk away. He hadn't even noticed that Tifa had gotten up. That she had knelt down in front of him, her expression kind, her eyes soft and searching.

"You don't have to say anything," she told him. She was smiling at him again, but not like her earlier smile, which had been tight and edged and forced. This was a real smile. It was welcoming and had a certain warmth to it that made Cloud feel like he belonged, even just a tiny bit.

Suddenly, it was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"You don't have to say anything," Tifa said again. "Not until you're ready, and even then, it'll still be your choice, okay? I don't know what happened to you... before, but I'm here for you." She lightly squeezed his arm, an expression of solidarity. "Okay?"

Cloud's cheeks burned and a part of him wanted to disappear, but another part of him - a much larger part - wanted to bottle up this moment and carry it with him forever. He managed a small nod, and wished that he could do something more. Maybe make a promise in return. Or maybe say that he was there for her, too. But the words were trapped in his throat.

His gaze flicked to hers, the mako in his eyes burning bright. "Tifa..."

Tifa suddenly removed her hand, as if she had been stung, and disappointment flicked through Cloud. Had he said something wrong? Was it the wrong thing to say?

But he didn't have the chance, because she suddenly sat down on the bed again. "How did you like the curry?" she continued, her voice too high, too fast. She impatiently brushed her hair behind her ear. "Did you like it?"

Cloud's head jerked to her, caught a bit off guard. "Y – Yeah."

"Good!" she replied, and suddenly stood up. Confused, uncertain, Cloud watched Tifa move through the room like a storm. She smoothed her bed sheets, stacked the papers on her desk, double checked that her keys were on the night stands. "I was hoping you'd like it," she was saying. "Garden Curry is my favorite down here in the slums, and plus it's cheap. There's so much I want to show you -"

But whatever she was about to say was lost on Cloud. His mind had grabbed a hold of the word slums, and it demanded his absolute attention. His mind twisted the word about, turned it every which way, analyzed it, weighed it. Slums. He wasn't too familiar with cities; his life in Nibelheim and the infantry pretty much guaranteed that, as he had been assigned to more rural areas due to his background. But if he thought of the word slums, there was only one city that came to mind.

"Tifa," he finally said, and his voice quiet, a mere shiver between them. Tifa stopped mid-sentence and watched him, her eyes worried, his expression unreadable. Forcing his expression into something like neutrality, he continued, "Where… are we?"

Tifa's eyes widened a fraction, but then she turned away, her expression torn. Guilt hissed through Cloud, and he immediately regretted asking. It had made Tifa sad, somehow, and he didn't know how to make it better. She wasn't even looking at him anymore. It was like she had gone a thousand miles away, and he couldn't reach her anymore.

"Midgar," Tifa finally said. She said word Midagr like a prayer and a curse, all wrapped up in one. "We're in Midgar," she continued, "in the Sector 7 slums." She glanced at him, her eyes searching, as if she was waiting for something.

But Cloud had nothing to offer her. Nothing to give. His expression remained blank, masking just how surprised he was, how uneasy. Midgar. Sector 7. The slums. He had been hoping that knowing where he was jostled something in his mind, something he had forgotten about being in SOLDIER or the SOLDIER therapy or anything about whatever accident that had landed him in a hospital, but he got nothing. Not even a headache.

And Midgar was a long was from Nibelheim. Why was he here, of all places? Maybe because the SOLDIER headquarters is here? Cloud thought. It was a stretch, but it was the only explanation that fit everything: his body, his eyes, the location. It was all he had to go off of.

"Cloud?" Tifa suddenly said, and her voice cut through his flimsy, murky thoughts. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He blinked the fog away. "I'm... fine," he managed. "Really."

"Really?"

"Really," he promised.

"Are you..." Tifa watched him for a moment, her expression suddenly unreadable. "No… never mind."

Cloud's lips curved into a small frown. "Never mind… what?"

"Nothing," Tifa said, much too brightly. "Nothing at all." Leaning forward on the desk chair, she asked, "Is there anything you want to do today? Or do you want to rest a little bit?"

Cloud's expression smoothed. Resting did sound nice. His head, though much clearer than yesterday, still felt a bit murky. Muddled even, and he was still reeling from his mako-eyes, his unfamiliar, SOLDIER-esc body.

And yet he was restless. He itched to move, to do something, to breathe outside, free air instead of suffocating in these four walls. He didn't want to venture outside alone, but if Tifa was there...

"Maybe outside?" he finally said.

Tifa sat back down on the bed, and the old mattress creaked beneath her. "We can do that. As long as you're feeling up to do."

Cloud nodded. "And, Tifa..." He was suddenly aware of just how quietly he was speaking, and tried to be a little louder. "What were you trying to say, earlier?"

Tifa blinked in surprise, and then she smiled again. But it was a tight smile. An uneasy smile, and she replied, "You're not going to drop it, huh?" Cloud shook his head no, and she sighed. "Well… I was going to ask if you felt well enough to meet some friends of mine."

Cloud arched an eyebrow. Friends?

"They work at the bar with me," she continued. "Among… other things."

Other things? Cloud wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. "Right now?"

"Not if you don't want to," Tifa said hurriedly. "You had a… a tough day yesterday, and I don't want you to exhaust yourself. There's really no rush to meet them."

"Tifa..."

"Really, Cloud," Tifa continued. "There's no rush at all. I mean that, truly."

Cloud heard her. Heard her words, but something in them sounded off. Something in her voice bellied just how uneasy she was, and that made Cloud feel uneasy, too. "Do you... not like them?" he finally asked.

Tifa's eyes widened in surprise. "No! I mean, yes, I do like them. I… They're like family to me. It's just..." Her voice trailed off, and Cloud patiently waited for her to continue. Waited, and waited, until Tifa finally shook her head and said, "Well, I guess... I'm not sure if they'll be good for you, Cloud."

Out of all the responses, that hadn't been what he had been expecting. His eyes widened a fraction, and the mako within them burned a bit brighter, a bit hotter. "Not good for me?"

"Yeah. Wait, no! No, like they're not bad people. More like… a bad influence?" Now it was Tifa's turn to wince at her poor word choice. "I just… don't want to get you involved in anything bad. Especially since yesterday you were so, well… I was worried about you, Cloud. I hadn't seen you in so long, and you looked so hurt." Cloud's lips twitched into a frown; he didn't remember much of yesterday, but he suddenly wished he could do it over, so that she would be less concerned about him. "And I don't want to rush you into anything, especially something potentially dangerous. Does that makes sense?"

Dangerous? Cloud's frowned and wondered who, exactly, were these friends of hers. "But you can?" At Tifa's blank expression, he added, "Get involved in dangerous things."

Tifa sighed. "I didn't mean that, either."

Cloud watched her for a moment. Watched her gaze fall to the floor, watched her eyes shine as if she was going to cry, watched her shuffle her feet as she waited for him to say something. His chest tightened. Tightened with something he couldn't identify, and he suddenly felt like he had to do something. He wanted her to be happy.

"Tifa." Her head jerked up as his soft, tentative voice. "I'll meet your friends. But if anything is wrong… tell me." He scanned her expression, searching for any hint of wrongness, but couldn't see anything. "I made you a promise."

He didn't have to say what promise, exactly. There had only been one.

For a moment Tifa only stared at him, her eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Cloud found himself fidgeting beneath the intensity of her gaze. What that wrong thing to say? he wondered – he seemed to be full of wrong things to say this morning – but then she smiled at him. Smiled as if he had hung the stars in the sky, and said, "I remember."


"This scrawny-ass kid used to be in SOLDIER?"

Cloud leaned against the wall of Seventh Heaven and regretted. He wished that he back at Tifa's apartment, or anywhere else but here really, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he glowered at the man standing in front of him. No; not standing in front of him. Towering. The man, Barret, was far taller and more muscular than any man Cloud had ever met before. Coupled with how loud he was, how impossibly large, and the semi-automatic machine gun that replaced his artificial arm… well, Cloud would be lying if he said he wasn't a little intimated.

But he reminded himself that Shinra had been full of bullies like this guy, and Cloud – who had always been on the shorter, leaner side – had plenty of experience dealing with them. He lifted his chin and met Barret's gaze, his bright eyes luminous beneath the dim bar lights, and schooled his expression into cool indifference. Truth be told, there wasn't much else he could do. The walk to the bar had exhausted him, though he would never admit that to Tifa, and he certainly wouldn't let this asshole know just how tired he currently was.

Cloud's indifferent stare only seemed to anger Barret further. "Hell nah," Barret continued, his arms waving dramatically as he talked. The bar lights glinted off his gun. "There is no damn way."

"But Barret," said another man; Wedge, Cloud vaguely remembered Tifa saying. "Just look at his eyes." Wedge was sitting by the bar, a sandwich in one hand and his other propping up his head. He took another bite of the sandwich and chewed it, thoughtfully, as he stared at Cloud. "At the mako in them."

"Those are SOLDIER eyes," finished Tifa's other friend, Biggs. "No mistaking it." Cloud noticed that Biggs was wearing the same thing that he was, which explained where Tifa had gotten the clothes.

Which I need to ask her about, Cloud thought, his lips tilting into a scowl. The only difference was that Biggs was also wearing tactical gear over his shirt, not to mention that he filled his clothes out much better that Cloud did, and Cloud self-consciously shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Must have been some mistake!" Barret shouted. "I mean, little at 'im! Skinny as hell, n'probably had never lifted a sword in his life!"

Cloud forced his expression into neutrality. If he was being honest, he couldn't really blame Barret for being doubtful – even if he was being a total ass about it, he thought darkly. He couldn't really believe it, ether. Him, in SOLDIER? Just like that? It seemed too good to be true. Not to mention that he had no memory of it, besides some shoddy situational evidence like his eyes, his new reflexes, and his old hospital clothes filling the trash.

The woman sitting beside Wedge – Jessie, Cloud vaguely recalled, suddenly smirked at him, effectively cutting his thoughts off half-way. "And his eyes are so dreamy," she practically purred. "Look at those baby blues." Turning to Biggs, she added, "Don't you think his eyes are dreamy?"

"No, I don't," Biggs deadpanned.

Jessie laughed, and Cloud tried not to blush. Blushing would not help the situation any. Besides, weren't SOLDIERs supposed to be cool, and composed, and collected? And blushing at a compliment was none of that. Just the opposite, in fact. He had to keep it together.

But he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Tifa. He wasn't sure way, exactly. Maybe he was hoping that she would say something in his defense, or change the conversation, or maybe even agree with Jessie's comment. But she remained rigid at his side, her expression hard and unreadable. It had Cloud's lips tilting into a frown. Tifa and these… people… were supposed to be her friends, right?

So why was she so upset?

Well, he thought, dimly recalling their childhood and all of the stupid boys that would follow her around, she has never had the best taste in friends.

Except for him, of course.

If they were even friends.

Were they?

"What is it?" Tifa asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Cloud blinked, suddenly realizing that he had been staring and tore his gaze away, kicking himself over it. Don't be weird, he ordered himself, and said, "Nothing." Tifa continued to watch him, her brow furrowed in worry, so he distracted himself by continuing to observe Tifa's other... friends.

He didn't exactly like what he saw. They watched him like they were sizing him up, weighing him on a scale and applying rules that he didn't know, that he didn't understand. It almost felt like he was being inspected under a microscope.

A microscope...

Pain flicked across his temple, and Cloud dug his fingers into his arms to keep from gasping. The pain faded immediately, a small blessing, but the bar seemed a little brighter all of a sudden. The walls felt a little smaller, the ceiling a little lower. His breath caught in his throat, and he decided that he needed air. Outside air. He needed to leave, before he got trapped here, before -

But then he felt a sudden hand on his arm, a slight squeeze, and his gaze dropped to see Tifa still watching him. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. Her ruby eyes were bright with worry, and Cloud forced himself to smile at her. It was small, and felt more like a grimace than anything else, but Tifa's expression relaxed regardless. It comforted him somewhat. It was the right thing to do, which was a refreshing contrast from the morning, where all he seemed to do was make her more and more upset.

But he did notice that she did not lower her hand, which Cloud was silently grateful for. He turned his attention back to her friends, but was unable to stop himself from leaning slightly into her touch. At the small measure of reassurance it brought. The warmth. It soothed the chaos in his head somewhat, his frayed nerves, his jagged edges.

" - anche doesn't need a SOLDIER!" Barret was saying, and his loud voice echoed through the bar. Cloud nearly winced at how the sound pierced his ears and bounced around his fragile mind. "Listen," Barret continued, holding his gun-arm up, "We didn't need them before, and sure as hell don't need'em now. We can't trust them," he added, now facing Cloud directly. Cloud scowled in response. "And we can fight damn well without them, too!"

Cloud turned away. "You're loud," he muttered under his breath.

Barret pierced him with a look, one that Cloud didn't notice. He was too busy looking at the door, and wondering when he and Tifa could leave, when he felt a barrel of a gun suddenly pushed into his chest.

It immediately pissed Cloud off, and he lifted his eyes, the mako within them burning bright and hot. Barret's expression shifted uneasily, but then his bravado returned and he growled, "What the hell did you say, Stamp?"

Stamp?

"I said," Cloud practically growled, "that you're loud." He placed a hand on the gun and pushed it aside, far more easily than he had been expecting, and Barret stumbled backward. At that exact moment, he decided he didn't care about his newfound strength, his unfamiliar body, or the swirling fog in his head.

Screw this guy.

"Also," Cloud flatly continued, "your gun is an ancient model. Inefficient, loud, cheap, and known for their large size." He met Barret's gaze, and his eyes glowed from adrenaline. "Compensating for something?"

Several things happened at once.

Jessie barked a short laugh, only to quickly slap a hand over her mouth. Tifa's jaw dropped as she stared at him, dumbfounded. Biggs had to duck his head to keep his smirk from showing, and Wedge took another bite of his sandwich, indifferent to it all.

And Barret…

"The hell you say, asshole?" Barret took a step towards Cloud, his steps heavy and loud, and Cloud pushed himself off the wall in preparation for a fight. "Wanna say that again?"

Cloud said nothing, only shifted his weight so he stood on the balls of his feet. Moved so that his knees were slightly bent, his center of gravity was low, and spread his arms slightly to the side just in case he had to throw himself in either direction. He was at a distinct disadvantage, and he would probably get his ass kicked, but he couldn't run. Not with Tifa right there. But he couldn't drag her into this stupid fight either, so he had to get some distance between them, had to -

"Barret, wait."

And suddenly Biggs was standing between them, his hand pressed against Barret's chest, his other lifted towards Cloud in case Cloud lunged forward. Cloud dimly noted that Tifa was also holding onto his arm. Her grip was far stronger than he expected, and he didn't pull away, only stood rigid as Biggs continued, "Listen Barret, I know you hate Shinra and everything associated with them, but the fact remains that we do need help. And picking fights with Tifa's friend here isn't going to do us any favors."

Cloud blinked, surprised. Was this Biggs guy helping him?

No. Not him, he realized after Biggs glanced at Tifa and she nodded in return. Biggs was doing this for Tifa. Not to mention that Tifa had Biggs' clothes at her apartment… Cloud's lips curved into a frown and, thoroughly unsettled, decided he didn't want to pursue that thought any further. Maybe he didn't want to ask Tifa about it later.

But he shoved those thoughts aside. He had other things to focus on right now, anyway. Like not getting shot.

"Cloud," Biggs continued, "have you been inside a mako reactor before?"

Cloud wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but… "Yeah."

"Thought so." Biggs turned back to Barret, who had gone red in the face. "We need someone who knows their way around a reactor, knows how their security works, maybe even knows some shortcuts. And since Cloud here was in Shinra, he'll also know -"

"Hell nah," Barret interrupted. "I ain't working with this punk-ass SOLDIER-boy."

"Wait, Barret. Maybe this is actually a good idea," Wedge piped up. He had finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, smiling and looking altogether pleased with himself. "It would be nice to have a professional on the team. Would make the job easier," he added at Barret's incredulous look. "Maybe less messy than before."

"And if it makes our job easier," Jessie added, "then it'll be good for the Planet, too."

That shut Barret up. Anything he had been about to say died in his throat, and after a few heavy, tense moments, he suddenly turned to Tifa. Tifa jumped a little and jerked her hand away from Cloud's arm, as if embarrassed. Cloud tried not to feel too disappointed.

"Tifa," Barret said, his tone suddenly serious. "You trust Mr. SOLDIER-boy here?"

"With my life," was her immediate reply.

Cloud went deathly still beside her.

"SOLDIER-boy," Barret continued, now turning to the shell-shocked Cloud. "You know how'ta fight?"

It took Cloud a moment to process the question, but when it did… "Of course," he replied, and almost told Barret just how stupid of a question that was, but Tifa's warning look made him reconsider. Suddenly recalling how he was currently free-loading off of Tifa, he said instead, "I don't know what sort of gig you're pulling, and I don't care. Whatever it is," he added as he met Barret's glare with an icy stare of his own, "I expect to be paid."

Barret's eyes widened a fraction; Jessie chuckled behind him. "This is for the Planet!" Barret shouted. "You really gonna be asking for money when the world is on th' line?"

Cloud almost rolled his eyes. Almost. "I'm doing this for Tifa. Not for the Planet," he added, "and not for you. If you want me on your team, you're going to have to pay me."

Barret's jaw worked, and he looked as if he was going to start yelling again, but then he suddenly gave up. "Well. All righty then, you'll get your pay. But let me make one thing clear." Cloud lifted his head at Barret's strange, uncomfortably calm tone. "The fact of th' matter is, you're gonna accept whatever the hell I decide to pay you. But don't you worry your pretty chocobo head," he added before Cloud could say any more. "I'm a lot of things, but fair is one of them." He paused, sizing Cloud up. "We leave tomorrow night."

Cloud eyes widened a fraction, the only indication of his surprise. His horror. Tomorrow night? That was too soon. Far too soon, he wasn't ready yet, he -

"Barret," Tifa said in warning. And something in her voice snapped Cloud out of his shock, his mounting panic, and he remembered: He had made a promise to her. A promise.

And he intended to keep it.

Barret continued to watch Cloud, his dark eyes bright, his lips curled back into something like a sneer. "Well? You gonna join?" he demanded. "Or is little Stamp here afraid of bitin' the hand that feeds?"

"I'm not afraid," Cloud stated. He wasn't sure if it was a lie yet or not. "And I'll be here."

"Good." Barret seemed satisfied by the answer. "We'll meet at the station, when the first streetlights come on. Understand, SOLDIER-boy?"

"Barret," Tifa hissed, and was about to say more when Cloud held up a hand, stopping her.

"Ex-SOLDIER boy," Cloud stated. The mako in his eyes burned hot, their faint glow visible despite the bar lights, but their light dimmed when he felt Tifa grab his hand and pull him out the bar.

And the door slammed shut behind them.


"I'm so sorry," Tifa said, again. Her earlier fury was gone, and she walked dejectedly beside Cloud as they walked back to her apartment, her head tilted down and gaze pinned at her shoes, at the dust pillowing her every step. "I'm just… I can't believe them sometimes."

"You have good friends," Cloud deadpanned.

Now that they had left the bar, Cloud could feel the adrenaline fading and exhaustion taking his place, the sort of exhaustion that seeped into his bones and blurred his muddled thoughts even further. Concentrating on Tifa long enough to understand what she was saying was a struggle, but he forced himself to do it. To at least try.

Tifa glanced at him, wide-eyed. "You really think… Oh." Her face fell and she turned back to the road, scowling. "You're being sarcastic."

"No, really." Cloud's indifferent gaze sifted across the nearby shops, seeing them, but not really taking them in. "They seem nice."

"Barret wasn't going to shoot you, you know," Tifa said. "He's actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him. A big softie that cares a little too much."

"Really."

"Look," Tifa said, turning to him. "I'm sorry, I truly am. I really… I really thought that it was just going to be an introduction. If I would have known they would try to recruit you, I wouldn't have brought you. Especially since you're still recovering from yesterday."

Cloud met her gaze, her lips twitching into a frown. His hazy mind flicked back to their morning conversation, to what Tifa had told him, and the dots began to connect. "Is that what you meant this morning?" he asked after a lengthy pause. They had stopped in the middle of the road, forcing everyone else to walk around them. But he didn't notice, nor did he particularly care, as he continued, "Is that what you meant when you said 'a bad influence'?"

Tifa opened her mouth to reply… but then she sighed and, biting her lip, nodded.

Cloud was too tired to feel anything but a twinge of worry, and not for himself. "Tifa..."

"I know, I know," she said before he had the chance to continue. She began walking again, and after a pause, he followed. "They… When I first joined Avalanche, it was because they hated Shinra and wanted to make a difference. A positive one. And I… I wanted that, too."

"You hate Shinra?"

"You don't?" Tifa shot him an incredulous look. "They burned down our home. They took everything from us."

Not everything, Cloud thought. He nearly said it out loud, but the words got caught in his throat so he murmured instead, "I'm not with Shinra anymore."

At that, Tifa deflated slightly. "I know. I know, it's just… I'm worried. If you don't feel up to tomorrow, you don't have to go. I'll talk to Barret, make him understand."

"I'm fine," he said, even as the world blurred for a moment. Were they near her apartment yet? They must be close – it felt like they had been walking forever. "What is the job, anyway?" he managed to ask.

Tifa bit her lip. "Um..."

"Tifa?"

"It's, well... Um..." She winced. "It's to blow up the Sector One reactor."

Cloud's eyes widened and he froze, staring at her, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. "To blow up..." he repeated, but his voice trailed off as he shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile. He wasn't even a surprised at this point. That gun-armed Barret guy seemed crazy enough to do that.

"I'm sorry," Tifa said again.

"Don't be. I already accepted the job."

"Even so, I am." She glanced at him and, even though she looked as if she was about to cry, managed a small smile. "Anyway, that's enough of that for now. I promised that I'd take you shopping yesterday."

Cloud blinked past the fog in his mind. "You did?" He had no memory of that.

"Yes. We're going to buy you some new clothes. And you agreed, by the way," she added, teasing now.

Cloud's brow furrowed. "I did?" He definitely had no memory of that.

"Yes!" Tifa laughed at his expression. "I asked, and you nodded. But we can go later, after we rest a bit."

"Hm."

"Besides, you'll need a weapon," Tifa added as they continued down the road. Various shops lined their path. All of them looked as if they had been scrapped together, and had mismatching roofs and ill-fitting doors. "You know… for Barret's job."

And just like that, her worried expression was back. Her concern, and she glanced at him, biting her lip.

"We can do that last," Cloud decided. "But… later." He glanced around the street, unsure if it was familiar or not. "Is your apartment…"

"Right here, actually." Tifa paused in front of a rickety staircase, and Cloud nearly sagged with relief. It wasn't that he was concerned that he wouldn't have been able to make it back. His body, as unfamiliar and foreign as it was, seemed a little sturdier than before. But the haze in his mind had returned, the sort he vaguely recognized from the day before. It was rapidly becoming difficult to string thoughts together. To connect ideas. Memories.

As they ascended the staircase, Tifa walked a bit closer to him, her arm ready to wrap around his waist and offer support if needed. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't need any help, but he also didn't mind her closeness. "Um… Tifa..."

"Mm?" She glanced at him, her expression warm. Her apartment key jangled in her hand. "What is it?"

Cloud couldn't look at her in the eyes. He tried but couldn't do it, so instead he looked at the front door and murmured, "Back at the bar..."

"Mm-hm?"

"Did you… Did you mean it?" He forced himself to turn to her, to meet her gaze. "When you said that… you trust me." With your life, he tried to add, but he couldn't force the words past his throat, his lips. Already the memory was becoming blurry, but he tried to hold onto it a little longer. Just a little while longer.

Tifa understood what he was trying to say, and her expression softened. "Of course I did." She unlocked her front door and light spilled into the apartment. "We made a promise, hadn't we?"

It was the second time that day that they had referred to that small promise, and Cloud couldn't stop the blush that kissed his cheeks. No matter how hazy his thoughts were becoming, that particular memory shone brightly in the fog. It was like a lighthouse, guiding his way home, and he managed a small smile.

"Yeah."


Zack's personality post-Crisis Core is a really hard one to pin down. In Crisis Core, Zack feels his emotions very deeply, and in most cases leaned towards optimism & puppy-like positivity. But after the experimentation, I felt like his personality shifted a bit? Like when I rewatched Crisis Core, Zack stuck me as having a bit of tunnel-vision: like it was Midgar, or bust. It's understandable though; he had so much on his plate, like the Genesis & Angeal copies, watching his mentor die again, dodging the army so he and Cloud didn't go back to the lab, taking care of Cloud, realizing that four years had passed... poor Zack. I know we didn't get much into him this chapter, but we'll definitely be getting lots of Zack scenes in future chapters. This chapter was mostly preparing Cloud for the Reactor One bombing mission, like setting up his motive and such.

Anyway, as always, thanks again for reading and for the favorites, follows, and reviews. Next chapter will be posted June 12th:)

Stay safe and well in the meantime.