AN: Special thanks to Bof for being my sounding board! You're the best!
Also, for those of you that take the time to review, Thank You! In advance. It is much appreciated.
Now, On with the story...
Splintered Dreams
Chapter Two
"Damsel in Distress"
He woke gasping for air, his throat raw and burning. His heart pounded and his chest throbbed with familiar pain as he shoved himself up and over to sit on the side of the small cot doing his best not to retch.
He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and reminded himself that he should be used to this; the inability to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, waking up in a cold sweat, shaking and fighting the urge to vomit. Nightmares, graphic and vivid, every night since he'd escaped that torture palace, and he didn't see an end to them coming anytime soon. Like the scars he carried on his skin, the scars on his mind were permanent.
He exhaled a nasal breath between thumb and forefinger, rose, left the cot and made his way to the kitchenette area. Two metal tables were shoved crooked against one wall, offset by a lurid purple recliner and a small cigarette burned cabinet. He pulled a cold bottle of Junon Ale out of the fridge and downed half of it in three gulps.
Thirst quenched, for the moment, Zack carried the bottle back to the main area of the room. There, he stood looking out the cracked window that faced the street. Seventh Heaven stood on the opposite side, quiet and still.
Blue eyes strayed skyward, searching in vain for stars. Zack leaned his forearm against the windowpane, tilting forward slightly to get a better view. The upper plate of Midgar shrouded the sky in metal and smog, effectively cutting off any view of the stars, and often the sun. Oppressive was the word that came to mind.
He remembered stars. He missed the stars. Crushed diamonds scattered across a sea of swirling blues and blacks...
In Gongaga, at the end of summer, the Planet's tilt was just so, and the night sky was so clear you swore you could reach up and pluck one of those gems from the pool above. And every year, beneath those brilliant stars, the town threw its annual Celestial Festival. Dancing and food and fireworks...
A pang of longing hit him in the gut, acute enough to hitch his breath. Who would have thought, Zack Fair missing Gongaga? He sighed, breath fogging the glass, and took another pull from his beer. He recalled how eager he had been to leave that small town, and his parent's small town dreams, behind.
He left at fourteen. He'd made SOLDIER by sixteen and First by nineteen. He was gifted, they all said. A natural born fighter, was what they called him. He had grinned so proudly, preened himself so arrogantly. He had been a fool with a fool's unattainable dreams and impossible ambitions. I want to be a hero...
He ran a palm down his face; exhaled.
A sliver of amber light caught his peripheral and Zack's attention was, thankfully, pulled back to the present. Tifa Lockhart, dressed in black shorts and white tank top, stepped out of Seventh Heaven's front door, her breath pluming in the chilly pre-dawn air.
She closed the door carefully behind her and bent down to lace her shoes. One leg, then the other, stretched against the wood porch railing. She held herself with the easy grace and confidence of someone comfortable in their own skin. There was something about her, he mused as he finished his beer, that would have been eye-catching even in a potato sack. She wasn't traditionally beautiful, with her dark hair and almond eyes; not like-- He cut that thought off abruptly. Best not to think about her.
Instead, he watched Tifa bounce twice, crick her neck back and forth-- jostling her high ponytail-- and bound from the steps. Her stride was smooth and even, her long, lean muscled legs propelling her over the uneven ground quickly. So quickly in fact that Zack barely had time to glimpse her veer right behind a fallen billboard sign and head into the thicker darkness of the slums before she disappeared from sight.
The fallen sign was an old Shin-Ra Electric billboard, left broken and discarded against a shack. Across the front of the sign, directly over the famous Shin-Ra insignia, in bold black, was the single word: AVALANCHE. He frowned, mulling the word over in his head. That was the name of the anti-Shin-Ra group the snitch in sector five had mentioned to him. Eco-terrorists, or some such shit. The group Tifa supposedly had ties to.
He wondered if it were true. She didn't seem the terrorist type. Then again, what did he really know about her? All he knew was that at fourteen years old she had been full of spunk and energy, had nearly been snuffed by the General, and her entire village had been consumed by flames. He knew parts of her history, but nothing of her.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Cloud had loved her.
A chilly fog dampened the morning. It was the sort, Tifa thought as her feet pounded the ground, that exactly reflected her mood. Lingering sadness twined it's way around her heart, squeezing. She exhaled purposefully, closed her eyes, re-opened, and regained her focus.
She raced across the uneven terrain, surefooted, having run this exact route every day for the past two years. Normally she enjoyed the wind on her face and the burn of her muscles-- the feeling exhilarating-- but not today. Today, she felt hollow on the inside. She had wanted to stay in her bed with the blankets pulled around her head.
That wasn't an option, however. Not when she had a job to do.
She took a sharp left, climbing a small mound of dirt. Her muscles began to warm. A light sheen of sweat gleamed over healthy skin. She increased her pace, falling into a rhythm that was as familiar to her as breathing.
For the first few minutes she tried to keep her mind carefully blank and simply observe. A rock here. Broken crankshaft there. Old boxes. Scraps of paper. The area surrounding the Slums was not much more than vacant lots littered with unwanted remnants of machinery and trash. But soon enough thoughts of Cloud crept in once more and her stride staggered a bit beneath the weight of it.
"He's dead." Two simple words. Common, uncomplicated words. Yet they had the power to fell her. Her mind filled with images. Cloud: gangly and thin, head too big for his body, bright hair sticking up and out. Cloud: quietly watching her as he pretended to read beneath his window—book upside down. Cloud: gritting his teeth as he struggled to hold her hand and keep her from falling from Mt. Nibel. Cloud: solemn and open, vowing to always protect her. Cloud: walking away, back straight. Cloud: blurry and warped because of the sweat and blood in her eyes. Cloud: smiling, touching her face... Cloud....
She stumbled, choked, her knees driving divots into the dirt. She inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut. At the midway point of her run, the ground shifted from soft and muddy to hard and rocky; dried up and without vegetation, and she knew her skin would bear small wounds gouged by pebbles, but she couldn't bring herself to rise. Her fingers curved, cutting lines into the soil. "Why?" she whispered; broken.
Throughout the night she had wept into her pillow and asked that very same question, over and over. The smoggy air seemed just as reluctant to answer.
A low rumble of sound drew her attention a moment later, and she wiped her hand across her eyes. She shifted her weight, alert.
Dangerous creatures that slunk in the shadows in search of food and violence were never far from this area. Food was scarce and the dumping grounds provided ample scraps and often a stray or two. Just before dawn, when the night was about to break and give into the day, the monsters around the slums were at their most frantic.
She saw it as she rose. A huge black canine-like thing in the middle of the trail, rounding the corner at impossible speed, just a few yards ahead. Glittering eyes met hers and Tifa checked her back pocket for her gloves. "Okay," she said softly, shaking off her grief in favor of something else. Something burning. "Here we go."
It leaped at her, a snarling mass of shadows, all fang and claw. She danced lightly to the side and swung her foot around to catch the beast's distorted head. She missed. It snapped at her, droplets of saliva spraying her calf.
Again she moved, lashed out. The toe of her steel-toed sneaker struck against something hard. The thing roared in agony and rage. It lunged and she shuddered under the impact.
Zack froze as a piercing howl split the silence of the night, sending chills throughout the sleeping Sector. He had just left his spot in front of the window, only to be drawn back. He scanned the streets, and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Another grating howl rent the stillness.
"Shit." He muttered, hand in his hair. Tifa was still out there somewhere. He shook his head and stepped back. There was no need to go over-reacting, he told himself. She was probably fine. It was probably just a stray dog or something--
The third howl decided it for him.
Tifa wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. Damn thing went down hard. She bent forward, hands on her knees, breaths coming hard and fast. A salty drop trickled off her chin and down her throat. She was really off her game today, she thought, eyes drawn to the flame-red wound on her leg. A thin line of blood marred the otherwise smooth surface. She pressed her fingers to skin, winced. Yeah that was gonna need a bandage.
"Tifa!"
Startled, she jerked upright. "What the--?"
Zack, broadsword hoisted in battle ready position, emerged over the hill. He was a black silhouette against the rising sun, but she knew it was him. She remembered that sword all too well.
Distracted by the unexpected arrival in front of her, Tifa nearly missed the hiss of shadow beneath her feet,but instinct, honed and polished on these very grounds, prompted her to react without thinking and her fist made a solid connection with a gaping muzzle, sending the second monster careening across the rocky ground before it had time to fully solidify.
Zack skid to a halt. His vivid eyes flicked between her and the fallen monsters. "Well, damn."
A reverberating growl alerted them that the second beast wasn't finished. Zack charged forward, "Tifa, get behind me!"
Ignoring him, Tifa jogged a few steps and spun, kicked, landed, flipped, kicked again, and dropped the snarling shadow-thing once more.
Zack whistled, prodding the motionless heap with the tip of his blade. It didn't move. "I repeat...well, damn."
She puffed out a breath, blew a sweat damp strand from her eyes."What are you doing out here? Are you following me?" Tifa tilted her head, eyes narrowed, suspicious.
"What?" He glanced up from the dead things. "No. Not exactly."
"Not exactly," she echoed, her tone colder than the air. "Tell me, how did you not exactly end up out here then?"
"I saw you leave the bar." He made a thumb-jerk gesture over his shoulder. "Heard some howling..."
"Uh-huh," she didn't sound altogether convinced.
"And, thought maybe you might be in danger." He shrugged.
"And you what? Decided to come rescue me?" She gave his sword a pointed look. "Or finish me off?"
"What?"
She just stared, hard and watchful.
He housed his buster sword behind his back. "Of the two options, I'd say rescue you."
She snorted. "I don't know what kind of women you usually hang around, but I don't play damsel."
"I can see that." There was a hint of admiration in his voice.
She bent over the beasts. "So, you can go."
Her dismissive attitude seemed to irritate him."Well, gee, thanks for your permission."He was immediately contrite, however, and crouched across from her. "I didn't come here to hurt you." He waited until she met his eyes. "At all."
She sighed heavily, painting the air with her breath. There was sincerity in his steady gaze."Well, then, thank you...for coming to my rescue."
He smirked at that. "Not that you needed it."
She straightened, arched her back and studied the downed creatures "It's not like them to travel in pairs. I usually have an entire pack to deal with." She nodded, satisfied. "That could be a good sign."
Zack turned towards Tifa, narrowed his eyes. "Entire packs?"
"Mm." She wasn't really paying him any attention, instead perusing the lightening horizon. For months now these things had been coming closer and closer to town, growing more aggressive all the time, in packs of four and five, and now there were only a couple? She felt accomplished; accomplished and dizzy.
Her head was swimming suddenly, an acidic fire lancing through her limbs making her entire body feel like lead.
"Tifa?"
A choked gasp was all she managed. The pain was hideous.
"Tifa!" Zack scrambled to catch her as her knees gave way. He grunted when she fell against him. Beads of perspiration dotted her pale face but her skin was clammy to the touch. Her breathing was labored and raspy.
She couldn't speak, could only clench her teeth and ride the waves of agony. Behind her eyes, her world exploded in red, and she wanted to scream. Then all was black.
Zack clutched her around her shoulders. "Tifa!" He shook her gently, concern marring his brow. What the hell had just happened? One minute she's standing there fine and dandy, and the next she's passed out, shaking in his arms.
Her teeth were chattering. Her lips had a faint purple tint to them. She looked like death. He swore, skimming her body with his eyes, honing in on the oozing wound across her calf. Shit. Splotches of red and gray puss surrounded the open wound, poison veining out into her system.
Zack hoisted her in his arms, cradled to his chest. "Hold on," he told her. He sprinted the one and a half mile back to Seventh Heaven.
The door was locked when they arrived. "Hey!" He hollered, uncaring that it wasn't yet five in the morning. "Hey!" He kicked the door. It swung open, crooked now with the hinge busted. He strode across the threshold, and yelled again.
"What in the fuck is all the damn yellin'--!" The swinging door bumped open and Barret stomped out. Dark eyes flashed at Zack. "What did you do?" He moved to take Tifa.
"Careful." Zack eased her into the other man's arms. "For the record, I didn't do a damn thing to her."
Barrett held Tifa gently, laying her head against his shoulder. "Yeah, then what happened to her?" His voice was laced with suspicion and anger.
Zack supplied what information he had. "She was out jogging and got attacked."
"Damn it. I knew something like this would happen," Barrett swore.
Tifa spasmed, head thrown back, muscles tightening. Barret held her as she convulsed, sweat breaking out on his own face as he watched her writhe in agony.
"She needs medicine." Zack told him. "She's been poisoned."
"Yeah, no shit, pal." Barret seemed at a loss.
"You have antidote, right?"
"Fuck, no." Barret's Adam's apple rippled as he took a hard swallow.
"Potions?"
"We used them--" he seemed to catch himself. "No."
Zack ran a palm down his face, exhaling between thumb and forefinger. "I'll be right back," he said.
"What? Where you goin'?" Barret demanded.
Zack didn't provide an answer, instead ran out the front door and jumped the steps. Across the street, back in his own rented room, he made his way to his cot. He reached beneath the loose springs until his fingers scraped across the strap of his duffel bag. A leather case, full of glowing green vials, sat atop his folded boxers. An extremely concentrated form of potion, it tasted like shit but had ultimately helped save his sorry ass.
He had barely made it three miles in the desert when the blood loss and bullet wounds had finally dropped him. He had no idea how long he had lain, caked in sand and blood, baking in the sun before he had been found, but he recalled with vivid clarity the garbled Wark! of a chocobo in his ear. The damn bird had nearly pecked his skull in two. The breeder, a farmer named Bill, had been out training the bird when he stumbled upon Zack. It was Bill that had initially given him the bitter potion—chocobo potion, as it turned out—and hauled him out of the desert, draped like a sack, over the ass-end of Charlie the Chocobo. Not the most glamorous of rescues, but Zack wasn't complaining. He was alive and he was grateful.
He had stayed on with Bill for just under three weeks, worked to earn his room and board, plus some extra gil to fund his trip into Midgar. Upon his departure, Bill had insisted that Zack take a generous amount of Choco-potions with him-- and Zack was once again grateful. He doubted his body would be nearly as healed now without the added help the potions provided.
He hoped it would help Tifa. Normally, an antidote was the preferred method to combat poisoning, but he had no idea what type of poison she was infected with, nor did he have a ready stash of antidotes nearby.
The busted door was open when he returned, but Barret was nowhere to be seen. "Hey!" Zack called out.
"Back here!" There was an frantic edge to the booming voice that responded.
Zack slipped past the kitchen and through a separate door he hadn't noticed the first time he'd been back there. "How is—Oh, shit."
Barret knelt beside a bed, presumably Tifa's, holding her shoulders down as she thrashed. Her face, pale when he'd left, was death white now, and blood trickled from her nose.
"Keep her steady," Zack ordered, popped the cork off the glass tube in his hand. He grimaced at the acrid smell, so bitter it threatened to singe the hair from his nostrils. He slid his hand beneath Tifa's head, clutching her nape and tipping her head back.
She choked on the first dribble, gagged on the second, but stopped shaking on the third. Zack didn't release her until all the potion was swallowed.
Once the thrashing stopped, Barret leaned himself back and wiped his face with his good hand. "I told her." He shook his head, inhaled a shaky breath. "I fuckin' told her one of these days..."
Zack tossed the empty vial into the trash beside the dresser. "I take it she's done this before?"
A light blanket was drawn up over her torso. The reply was softly spoken. "She does it every day. Fights, every day."
"What? Why?" Zack wanted to know.
Barret seemed to realize who he was talking to in that moment and his defenses rose again. "Ain't none of your fuckin' business SOLDIER-boy."
Zack, not one to be cowed, gave Barret an even look. "Tell me anyway."
Barret's eyes remained glued to the woman on the bed. "Her reasons are her business."
"But you let her."
"No one let's Tifa do anything," Barret snorted, mouth curved.
Tifa hissed a breath between clenched teeth, eyes fluttering, effectively silencing any further commentary between the two men.
"She'll still probably need some form of antidote," Zack lowered his voice. "And some water. Those potions leave a nasty aftertaste."
"Don't touch anything." Barret pushed to his feet, headed for the kitchen.
Zack heard the distinct sound of glasses tinking together and the running of a faucet. He was a bit baffled at Barret's willingness to leave him alone with Tifa, but figured since he'd just saved her life and not let her die—as he could have, the other man probably assumed him to be safe enough company.
Almond shaped eyes opened, curiously dark and glassy from pain and potion. They fixed on Zack and a smile graced her still blue tinted lips; a smile so soft and tender that Zack was helpless against it. He lowered himself onto one knee, placed a hand on her brow. "You're gonna be okay."
She sighed, wistfully, those dark eyes luminous. Had anyone ever looked at him with such emotion before? "Cloud..."
He flinched.
She blinked twice, scrunched her nose. "Ow." This time when her eyes found him, there was reservation in her gaze. "Zack?"
"Hi." He nodded.
"What happened?"
"Poison, looks like."
She shifted her leg slightly. "Stupid," she muttered. She coughed, gagged a bit. "Oh, Gods, what is that awful taste?"
"Hero, here, gave you some nasty ass potion." Barret told her, re-entering the room. He nudged Zack out of the way, handing her the glass of water. "You gave me a fuckin' heart attack, Teef."
Zack rose, stepped back. Barret carefully wiped the blood trails from beneath her nose with a damp cloth and helped her sit up. Zack felt very out of place, and very in the way.
Tifa placed her hand over Barret's stopping his ministrations. She leaned to her right, so that Zack was in her line of sight. "I owe you one," she said.
Zack shook his head. "No, you don't." After everything he'd brought into her life, the score card was still heavy in her favor.
"Alright, then."
Barret raised a brow, glanced between the two of them.
"Excuse me."
Zack turned, narrowly missed jabbing an elbow into the petite redhead coming up behind him. She was short, maybe five foot three, with wavy locks and moss green eyes. She walked briskly into the room, all energy and bounce.
"I heard the commotion," she said by way of greeting. "What's going on?"
How many people live here? Zack wondered.
"Tifa was playing beast slayer again," Barret supplied, resident scowl back on his face.
"I thought we agreed to let me design some traps," Jessie admonished gently. Concern turned her bow shaped mouth down. She sat on the edge of the bed, grasping Tifa's limp hand.
"We did," Tifa acknowledged, still pale, still weak, but the fighter glint was back in her eyes. "But until they're up and running we're vulnerable."
"Okay, fine. I'll have them finished by tonight, after I finish with the reactor blueprints--."
Barret aimed a narrow look at her. "Jessie!" His gaze flicked back toward Zack.
Zack may as well have been wearing a neon sign that read: OUTSIDER on it. He shifted, moving towards the door. "I'll just see myself out."
"Goodbye, Zack." There was finality in those words.
He turned and said over his shoulder, "Goodbye, Tifa."
The promises he'd made to Cloud were kept. He had delivered the message, and he had witnessed first hand the care Tifa was surrounded by. His being there was a constant reminder of what she'd lost and Zack didn't want that for her—or for him.
He lifted his face to the sky when he emerged from Seventh Heaven, and glared at the plate above. Shin-Ra had taken so much of his life already, it was time he tried to get some of it back.
"Wow." Jessie fanned herself with one hand. She waggled her arched eyebrows at Tifa. "So, is that him?"
Tifa inclined her head. "Who?"
"Mr. Mysterious. The guy from your past."
Tifa swallowed the lump in her throat, chased it with some water. "He's from my past, yes."
"But not Mr. Far-away-look-in-Tifa's-eyes?" Jessie's giggle was light and airy. Her laugh was one of the things Tifa liked best about the other girl, but this morning, it grated against her already raw nerves.
"No."
Jessie paused, really looking at Tifa. "Did something else happen?."
"Her nearly gettin' eaten ain't enough?" Barret demanded.
He was angry, Tifa could tell, but so was she. "I didn't nearly get eaten. I was poisoned," she corrected him. She took the water in her hand and drank it straight down. "Not the same."
"You were just lucky that ass was there to save yours!"
Tifa sighed, pressed two fingers to her forehead. "If your finished yelling at me, I'd like to lay down. My head is pounding."
He rubbed his jaw, almost debating with himself. "Yeah, fine. Get some rest, Teef. I'll grab some antidote for you from the shop when it opens."
"It was a lycanthropic monster," she told him on a yawn.
"Figured as much from the gouge in your leg." Barret stated. "Come on, Jessie. Let's go wake up Biggs and Wedge. We got work to do."
Tifa fell back against her pillow, asleep instantly. She slept for the better part of the day and when she awoke hours later it was without pain. Not even on her calf, now healed smooth.
In the bar, she was informed by Jessie that Zack had stopped in on his way out of the Sector to check on her, but hadn't wanted to wake her.
His departure was expected, but that didn't stop the pang of loneliness that she felt. Her last connection to Cloud was gone.
"He left this for you." Jessie handed her a scrap of paper.
Written in bold scrawl was a phone number and the short message: If you need anything.
"I also found this behind the bar."
Tifa grasped the other object, fingers shaking. Bloodstained and edge worn, she recognized the photograph. Her eyes filled with tears, but this time they didn't fall. She pressed the picture to her chest and asked, "So, how big can we make these bombs of yours?"
Jessie blinked in surprise. Tifa had been the most reluctant to the bombing of the Mako reactors. She did some quick calculations in her head and said, "Big."
Tifa's mouth was a hard line. "I want to make them hurt, Jessie. I want Shin-Ra to bleed."
"Then we'd better start planning."