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-Chapter Three-
Cloudy Skies and Stormy Eyes
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Cloud could feel himself drifting in darkness, floating slowly towards consciousness as each gentle wave of awareness washed him closer to the edge of sentience and light. He cracked open an eye and warily glanced about at what he could see without moving his head, but recognized nothing as the room gradually came into focus.
He became aware of another presence in the room, and the vague memory of grey eyes flittered across his mind, but he couldn't be sure if they had been real or only dreamed. Cautiously, he turned towards the person beside him, hoping, for no apparent reason, to find the one who belonged to those eyes. What he found instead was even more surprising.
"Aeris?" And another memory flashed through his mind: He was back in the lab, on Hojo's table, with the glaring overhead lights and the needles and pain; and he panicked, believing himself to be dead because Aeris was there. But there was somebody else there as well, and it wasn't Hojo; it was the one with grey eyes, and suddenly everything was all right.
Cloud lost hold of the memory, or vision, he wasn't sure which, when he realized that Aeris was speaking. He caught random words, plucking them from the lilting stream that flowed from her mouth, but his mind was unable to arrange them into any meaningful order. No, he realized; he couldn't be dead. He had been in the Lifestream before, and while just as confusing, it was nothing like this.
"Where am I?" he asked, to which she had answered, 'Traverse Town' – more words with no meaning – and Cloud looked around for the grey-eyed angel, hoping that maybe he could explain. He attempted to push himself up from the bed, but an unexpected wave of pain stopped him cold. He looked down at the source and saw two neatly sutured slashes across his stomach.
"What happened?" He tried another question, slowly maneuvering his body into a more upright position.
"You were badly injured," Aeris answered.
Yes, he could see that. "How?"
"We don't know. We were hoping you could tell us. Do you remember anything at all? Do you know how you got here?" She answered his question with more questions.
He shook his head. "I don't even know where here is."
"You're in a place called Traverse Town, at Leon's house," she said, as if that explained anything at all. "He's the one who found you." She pointed to Cloud's injuries and added, "He's the one who stitched you up."
Cloud glanced around the room again, for guidance perhaps, or clues, and tried to sort things out in his head as Aeris prattled on about Leon, whoever that was, but it was all too confusing. He still didn't understand where he was, even though Aeris had just told him, and he couldn't figure out for the life of him – or the life of Aeris – why she was here. Hadn't she died?
But Cloud could never be too sure of anything. There was always the possibility that things weren't the way he remembered. There was even the possibility that he wasn't who he remembered.
Or perhaps she was merely a vision – Cloud sometimes had visions. He suspected they were the result of spending too much time in the Lifestream, absorbing knowledge and memories that weren't his, overdosing on Mako and surviving it. Now, sometimes he saw things, and other times he just knew things, like a sixth sense of sorts, but it was often confusing, and he couldn't always tell what was real, or what belonged to him. It was a strange world to live in, his world.
At any rate, there seemed to be holes in his memory again, and god only knew what was missing. Or this might just be some sort of trick, he decided; it wasn't like he'd never been fucked with before. Maybe it would be better to just wait for a bit and watch. Maybe then he'd be able to figure it out. He turned his attention back to Aeris, who was still talking about Leon. She sighed and abruptly fell silent.
She knew she was babbling, avoiding the question she could see in Cloud's eyes, filling up the awkward space with words. There were things that needed to be said: questions that had to be answered and others that had to be asked; she just didn't want to do it. But she had been down that road before, and she knew where it led.
She and Tifa had both tried to pretend that everything was fine, ignoring the truth they felt in their hearts, and she couldn't help but wonder how much they were to blame for the things that had happened – the things Cloud had done while they were chasing Sephiroth.
She knew that Cloud blamed himself and no other, but Aerith suspected that the truth of it was that if they had just said something, if they had had the courage to confront him with their suspicions, that maybe things would have turned out differently. They had been so afraid he would break, but he had ended up breaking anyway – under Hojo's and Sephiroth's lies, and her and Tifa's silence – and they had all paid the price. Cloud had sure as hell paid. Aeris had paid too. She wasn't about to go there again. She took a deep breath and touched him lightly on the hand. "You must be wondering why I'm here."
"A little," he mumbled with a wary glance.
"It's all right." She gently took his hand in hers, allowing him to feel the warmth of her skin, the pulse of life that flowed through her veins. "It's really me," she assured him, "though I go by Aerith now."
At Aeris– Aerith's – words, he risked a more daring, direct look. She appeared to be real. She felt real.
"I came back to warn you that Sephiroth had left the Lifestream. Do you recall running into him lately?"
"Sephiroth? No." He shook his head and added, "Should I?"
Aerith pointed to his stomach. "It's just that your injuries ... well, we suspect that ..."
At her words, Cloud really looked at his wounds. It was clear they had been razor sharp and just as thin, wounds which should have healed quickly with magic, and the fact that they hadn't was telling. Even with sutures, the cuts were just beginning to scab over, and they formed a perfect X on his midriff. A mark – yes, the Masamune.
"What about Vincent?" Aerith tried next. "Have you seen Vincent recently?"
When Cloud nodded yes in reply, Aerith's face brightened briefly before falling again at the words which followed. "I was just with him – at the reunion."
"Avalanche's six month reunion at Seventh Heaven?"
Cloud nodded again, confirming Aerith's fears. "Why?" he asked, and added, "What's wrong?" when he noticed the look on her face.
"That was almost a year ago."
"I've been unconscious for a year?"
"Well, no – I mean – I don't know. You've only been here a few days. We don't know where you were before that." Aerith searched his eyes but found nothing helpful. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"The reunion ... Vincent and I had just– "Cloud clenched his eyes and sucked in a breath, a spasm of pain racking his body as another vision flashed through his mind: Aeris again, reaching for him, screaming his name. Then, just as suddenly, the vision was gone.
"Vincent and I had just walked outside with Yuffie and Cid," he began again, more measured. "Cid was going to give us a ride on his new airship – but I don't remember actually getting on..."
"That's because you didn't," Aerith said. "You and Vincent – this black, portal thing just opened up behind you and –" She struggled to compose herself. "– and you were just gone."
"And Vincent?" he asked.
Aerith shook her head. "No one has seen him since."
"Well, I just turned up. Maybe Vincent will too," Cloud suggested hopefully.
"Maybe," she smiled weakly. "But when Leon found you, you were wearing his cape."
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Aerith still hadn't told him the worst of it yet – that their world was gone, and Tifa was gone, along with everyone else – but she didn't want to overload him with too much information at once. And while he was mentally digesting what she already fed him, she figured she would give his stomach something to work on as well. "Why don't I get you something to eat, and we can talk some more later. The others should be back soon."
"The others?" Cloud asked. "Tifa? Marlene?"
"Leon and Yuffie," Aerith answered.
"Oh." Cloud nodded, wondering again who Leon was, and why Yuffie and a resurrected Aeris – Aerith, he corrected himself again – seemed to be living with him. This just kept getting stranger and stranger. "Who is Leon?" he asked. Someone else he had forgotten?
"Leon is the man who took us in when we first got here," Aerith patiently explained again. "He's a wonderful person, even though he tries really hard not to show it. We would have been lost without him. You know, in a lot of ways he reminds me of you ... but you'll meet him soon enough for yourself. Now, what would you like to eat?"
"What I'd really like is a shower." Cloud attempted to run his fingers through his dirty hair and grimaced at the sticky, tangled result.
Aerith tried to dissuade him from getting up until he was stronger, or at least until Leon got home and could assist him, but Cloud insisted that he was fine. Knowing he could be almost as stubborn as her taciturn housemate, Aerith didn't bother to argue and simply held out her hand for support. When she was satisfied that his legs would hold him up, she grabbed the clothes that Leon had left out on the dresser in case Cloud awoke, and led him across the hall to the bath.
"Feel free to use whatever you need," she said, setting the clothes on the top of the toilet. "I'm sure Leon won't mind. Towels are in the closet, and he keeps extra toothbrushes in that drawer." She pointed out the location of the basic necessities and then turned to leave the room, throwing over her shoulder, "Just give me a shout if there's anything else you need."
Cloud thanked her and closed the door behind her, grateful for a little time alone to gather himself. He turned on the shower and, while waiting for the water to get hot, looked around the small room. Everything was very neat and clean, and judging from the lack of personal items, he would have thought it a guest bath had Aerith not implied that it was Leon's. Cloud turned to open the medicine cabinet and froze.
The haggard face staring back at him would have been more than enough to send him into shock, but that was far from the worst of it. Coming slowly out of his daze, he turned sideways and looked over his shoulder to get a better look at his back in the mirror.
Yep, he was dead all right. Dead and in Hell. Why else would he have a wing – a demon wing?
No, he couldn't be in Hell, he told himself. He had no problem believing that he had been cast into the pits of purgatory, but what would Aerith be doing here? And somehow, Cloud didn't think they would have nice hot showers in Hell.
Besides, Hell wasn't a real place – he knew that. It was just a literary construct, an allegory. A place made up by mean-minded people to keep their kids in line. Still ...
In some obscure, unilluminated corner of Cloud's mind, it was just as real to him as the monster under the bed. It didn't matter what anyone said; he knew it was there. There were voices in those shadowy corners, and they spoke to him.
Besides, it made sense, didn't it? Surely, the Lifestream wouldn't let just any old body in. It wouldn't want evil, corrupt people like Hojo or worthless fuck-ups like Cloud mucking up its stream of consciousness. Wouldn't people like that have to go somewhere else first, to be fixed before being allowed on the exclusive list?
I mean, think about it. What if the Lifestream wasn't invitation only? What if it did allow every idiot on the planet in, like some indiscriminate guest list. What a hell of a party that would be. Right. Hell. Precisely the point; You wouldn't want the Lifestream and Hell getting all mixed up together, now would you?
'Whoa, Spike. You're getting in way too deep there, buddy. Lighten up a bit.'
'Zack? I thought you had left.'
'Well, thanks a lot, Spike. Are you trying to say you don't want me around?'
'No, of course not. It's just that I haven't heard from you in a while.'
'Well, of course I'm still here. You can't get rid of me that easily, my friend. I've just been sleeping.'
Well, of course, he was still there, Cloud scoffed at himself. It was only his conscience speaking, after all. It was just that Cloud's conscience happened to sound a lot like Zack, and it insisted on calling him Spike. Cloud wondered if everyone's inner voice was so cheeky.
And that other voice – the one that spoke to him from the dark corners of his mind and whispered through his veins in an alien tongue.
Or that strange, blue man who lurked in the shadows with Hojo. Who the fuck was he?
'Watch your language, young man. I raised you better than that.'
'Sorry, Mom.'
His mother had more or less teamed up with Zack, and they tended to hang out together in the lighter places of his mind: The Conscience Committee. Cloud wondered when he had started thinking in obscenities anyway, speaking to himself with foul language. Had Cid crawled into his mind as well, while he was sleeping?
Cloud supposed his mind was a lot like the Lifestream; it seemed to have an indiscriminate guest list of its own. Things had been pretty quiet the last time he'd checked, but evidently, someone had decided to start up the party again while he was out.
So. There were gaping holes in his memory. A whole year's worth. Well, at least it wasn't five.
Cloud took a deep breath and turned back to the medicine cabinet, where he found shaving supplies and deodorant, a couple of bottles of various potions and a large bottle of aspirin, and one entire shelf devoted to dental hygiene products. Well, at least this Leon character had clean teeth, he snickered to himself.
He stuck his hand in the shower to test the water, adjusting it slightly before stepping out of his filthy, blood-stained boxers and getting in. One would think that after everything he had been through, he wouldn't have any modesty left, but the fact that he was still wearing his own boxers was comforting, and Cloud had learned to appreciate the small comforts in life. In his experience, being unconscious and naked in the presence of strangers didn't generally bode well.
He leaned back under the soothing stream of hot water, letting it wash away what was surely the entire last, lost year's worth of grime, rejuvenating his body and lifting his spirits a bit. When he reached for the shampoo, its subtle scent brought with it another memory:
An intense stab of pain jolted him awake. Disoriented, he instinctively started to struggle, then realized he was being carried in muscular arms. Thinking it was Zack, he looked up to find a man with long chestnut hair and stormy grey eyes instead, but even though he didn't know who the man was, nor where he was being taken, Cloud wasn't afraid. The man's body was warm and his scent oddly comforting; he smelled ... familiar. Then he spoke, and his voice, although rough, was calm and sure, and Cloud allowed himself to settle back into the shelter of the stranger's arms...
Leon.
Cloud finished washing his hair and then the rest of his body, taking extra care with his wounds and his wing, and wondered about Leon – apparently, his grey-eyed angel.
He dried himself off and got dressed in the clothing that Aerith had given him, assuming that it too must be courtesy of Leon, who, judging from the fit, must be about an inch or two taller, because the pants were just a tad too long. And the t-shirt was just a tad too roomy, but that was good because it accommodated his wing, which he folded up neatly underneath.
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The Heartless had continued to increase in both number and strength for the past few days; since the day he found Cloud, to be exact, Leon realized with a start, but he was far too busy at the moment to ponder any possible connection. Yuffie and he were attempting to clear Second District, but the Heartless kept spawning in as fast as they could take them out. They were currently fighting in the area outside the Gizmo Shop, which had become a particularly bad spot lately, with high concentrations of "Blue Flames", as they had taken to calling the new Heartless due to the emblem on their chests. Their main portal into the district seemed to be near the entrance to the alley, not far from where he had found Clou–
This second disturbing realization caused Leon to stop dead in his tracks until Yuffie's cry of "Leon, duck!" snapped him back from further speculation. With agile reflexes and natural grace, he twisted at the waist and leaned back, dodging her shuriken just as it flew past his head with a soft 'hwhiz' and found its mark in the Air Soldier hovering behind him.
Despite how annoying the young girl could be, Yuffie was a damn good fighter, and Leon had been glad to have her by his side on more than one occasion. He acknowledged her assistance with a curt nod, then turned on his heel to take out a Yellow Opera before it could hit them with another thunder spell, while Yuffie finished off the last lowly Shadow.
With the wave of Heartless defeated at last, the two fighters stood catching their breath as they awaited the next incoming round. When it didn't come, they moved once more down the alleyway, which they had already cleared at least a dozen times or more. Finding it still free of Heartless, they returned to Gizmo Square, and it too remained clear.
"Well, I guess that's it then," said Yuffie.
"For now," Leon agreed, and they headed for home.
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Feeling considerably more human after his shower, Cloud stepped back into the bedroom just as Aerith finished changing the sheets. As soon as she saw him, she started up a light-hearted stream of chatter and began walking towards the living room, with Cloud following silently behind. He knew she was making small talk for his sake, and he genuinely appreciated her effort, but wished she would just be quiet. There was something she wasn't telling him, and the small talk wasn't helping at all.
They both stopped short at the sound of the front door being opened, and then a black-haired blur came flying across the room and wrapped itself around his neck. Aerith was scolding her not to tackle the injured man, but her voice was full of laughter. Cloud couldn't take his eyes off the man in the doorway.
Leon, his grey-eyed angel, in the flesh.
Only he was no angel. He was a man through and through, strikingly handsome and sexy as hell. His presence was commanding – powerful and compelling – yet there was a steadiness beneath it, a quiet self-possession, and Cloud understood instantly that here was a man people would follow. The attraction he felt was immediate and absolute, and he found himself walking towards the other man as if drawn by an irresistible force.
Then he was there, face to face with the eyes from his visions. Only these eyes were intensely alive, full of integrity and intelligence, and Leon's composed, unemotional face was betrayed by their passionate potency. They were also bluer than the eyes from his visions, an icy blue that glittered within the grey, but there was something else there as well, and it puzzled Cloud. It almost looked like ... fear.
It was the same sort of look that Cloud had seen on the faces of foes in that split second of time between the realization that their own death was imminent and the delivery of the killing blow, and for one brief moment, he almost thought the man was going to turn around and run.
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Leon had excellent instincts. Years of military training followed by years of living with constant danger had finely tuned his natural ability to sense threats to his well-being, which is why he was currently frozen at his front door: When seized by a sudden, absurd reluctance to enter the house, he listened to his inner voice.
Senses on full alert, Leon scanned the room for danger, seeking the source of his unease. The laughing girl in pink was certainly no threat, nor was the squealing blur that was flying across the room towards the– there ... the man in slightly oversized pajama pants and baggy shirt. No, that was just Cloud, standing there in Leon's clothes; he wasn't a threat. So why was his heart racing?
Leon watched as Cloud awkwardly returned the young girl's hug, responding to her exuberant greeting with a softly spoken "Yuffie," in a calm and mellow voice, and gently removed her arms from around his neck. Then Cloud looked over at him, and Leon's stomach threatened to desert the sinking ship. His mouth went dry.
Cloud had obviously just come from the shower, his skin still flushed with a rosy glow, and his freshly washed hair now framed his face with spikes of softly shining gold. His lips were full and pink, and his eyes ... his eyes were the most amazing blue that Leon had ever seen, and they glowed. Cloud glowed.
Leon knew he was staring, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop. Nor could he have uttered a word, even had he wanted to, because his stomach was now lodged firmly in his throat. It was ridiculous and irrational, but that didn't stop the adrenaline from pumping through his veins, preparing his body for fight or flight as long-unacknowledged emotions, dangerous and unwanted, swirled just below the surface. He struggled to keep them suppressed, but flight didn't seem like such a bad option either, and for one brief moment, he almost turned around and ran.
But of course he didn't. He was a SeeD, Rank A. The Lion of Balamb. Commander of Garden. He had taken down Ultimecia without a flinch. This was only a man.
He had wrestled Ruby Dragons, beheaded Behemoths. Devoured T-Rexaurs.
He had flown to the moon and leapt into space, had been flung to the future, hurled through the past, and catapulted through corridors of darkness to another world. This was only a man.
Swallowing to dislodge the lump in his throat, Leon calmly and deliberately stepped into the room, setting his gunblade on the small rack near the door and casually removing his gloves. Then Cloud was there, right there in front of him, and hesitantly holding out his hand.
Leon didn't really like to shake hands, especially without his glov- (and when the hell had he removed his gloves?) but he knew it was a formality that had to be endured. Not that he cared much for formalities either...
But Leon had grown up at least; he wasn't the rude young man he once had been – he wasn't Squall – so he managed a small nod in exchange for Cloud's uncertain half-smile and raised his own hand in response, finding the contact surprisingly pleasant. Cloud's hand was slender, but solid and warm, and his handshake was firm, callous to callous, eyes locked warrior to warrior, and for once, Leon was not the first to let go.
Then Aerith was there, pulling Cloud to the couch and protectively patting his hand while proceeding to name off twenty different things that she could fix for him to eat, but Cloud was having a hard time paying attention because his gaze kept returning to the man who was now leaning against the wall, with his long, lean, black-leather legs and those damn belts which drew the eye directly to that which they failed to hide well enough underneath.
He kept trying to tell her that he wasn't really hungry – just a glass of water please – but Aerith wasn't listening and finally just made the decision for him, stating her intention to make some cream of wheat as she jumped up from the couch and went to the kitchen.
Yuffie was bouncing around the room and then bounced out the door to go fetch Cid.
Leon shared a look with Cloud, earning a small, one-sided smirk from the blond, which for some silly reason made Leon feel happy. Then he pushed himself off the wall and followed Aerith into the kitchen, treating Cloud to one of the most wondrous sights of his short little life – Leon's beautiful backside. Leon returned a few moments later and handed Cloud a glass of water, then resumed his post on the wall, and thus it was that the two men found themselves – alone together, in the room, with nothing to say.
It was Cloud who eventually made the effort, not because the silence between them was particularly uncomfortable, but because he didn't want Leon to leave. He searched for something that didn't sound stupid, finally finding a topic suitable for two stoic warriors when his eyes landed on Leon's unusual weapon. "Interesting weapon," he said, grateful to have something to focus on other than the sinfully sexy man leaning against the wall. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Gunblade." It was the first word that Leon had spoken, and to him, it sounded harsh and grating compared to Cloud's mellow voice. But Cloud remembered the deep, husky voice from his dreams and thought it suited Leon well, now that he matched it to the man. It oozed with sensuality, just like the man himself, and Cloud looked for a way to prolong the conversation just to hear it again.
It turned out to be unnecessary, however, when Leon made an effort of his own. "They weren't common on my world either." He paused a beat and then added, "I put your sword in the bedroom."
Cloud studied the glass of water in his hands for a moment before taking a sip, and then acknowledged quietly, "I understand I have a lot to thank you for."
"Forget it," Leon said, dismissing the debt with a wave of his hand. "You would have done the same."
"Maybe." Cloud shrugged. "But I won't forget it."
Cloud was just about to ask what Leon had meant by his odd – and rather ominous – comment about 'his world' when Yuffie returned with Cid, and Aerith returned with cream of wheat, and they all started talking at once. Leon watched with amusement as the three of them fussed over their long-lost friend, and when the beleaguered blond turned to him with a plea for help in his beautiful blue eyes, Leon found the corner of his own mouth curling up in a one-sided smirk.
It never even crossed Cloud's mind as odd that he had looked to the only stranger in the room for help.
