Chapter 13 - Our Normal
Denzel felt different. For better or worse, something had changed in him as Edge burned and crumbled. He was no stranger to death, of course – he had lost his parents, then Ruvie, and then almost died himself. He had seen friends and strangers succumb to Geostigma in dark alleys and sunny parks. But he was helpless then. He had no way to prevent any of those deaths. He was just a kid.
He wasn't helpless anymore. He was fifteen and lethally trained. He had helped dozens of strangers get to safety in the town hall. He had prevented Jesse from falling to his death.
If there were a scale to balance the number of lives, he would surely be tipping it to the 'saved' side. However, he was starting to understand all those lives didn't carry the same weight in his heart. The ones he'd failed – Mr. Mio and Jason – were far heavier than the ones he had rescued.
The rumbling grew louder as they ran out of the town square and hopped on Fenrir. The roar of hundreds or maybe even thousands of monsters had faded, but there were still random snarls and crashes coming from all directions. The sound of guns and cannons was loudest, and that was where they were headed. The echo of Fenrir's engine bounced off of the buildings along the road as they sped toward it.
Denzel's heart sank when he saw the giant, long-tailed beast still fighting. The WRO was throwing everything they had at it, but it was swatting away the projectiles like flies. Cloud made a beeline for the commander as soon as they skidded to a stop, but Denzel's eyes scanned the fighting soldiers, looking for one dark-haired, olive-skinned man. Niko had saved his life, and he didn't even know if he'd gotten away safely.
There were bodies scattered everywhere in the clearing. Some were clearly dead, but many seemed to be wounded, and the strange monster was thwarting efforts of the others to get to them. He finally spotted the crumpled figure of his former nemesis. Without thinking, Denzel sprinted toward him, using his sword as a shield against the flying debris. When he reached him, he was dangerously close to the stomping feet of the beast.
"Niko! Niko! Are you ok?" His eyes were closed and he had one arm wrapped tightly across his abdomen. Blood leaked between his fingers, adding to the puddle on the ground underneath him. Niko's eyes opened a crack, clearly pained but conscious.
"Denzel?" he said weakly.
"Yeah, it's me," he said, looking him up and down for injuries. Besides the wound Niko was covering on his stomach, his left leg was twisted at an odd angle. Denzel automatically put his hand out to cure him, but the weak swirling of the lifestream and the strain in his head reminded him that he hadn't yet taken an ether. He cursed under his breath.
The monster was doing a strange dance nearby, staying within a relatively small area, moving just enough to swat at the larger projectiles still flying toward him, completely ignoring the bullets. It seemed to be toying with them, taking very little damage but not making any effort to attack the soldiers standing at a safe distance.
"Denzel. You have to get out of here," Niko said urgently. "It's been attacking anyone it sees standing in range of its tail!"
It was at that very moment that the monster spotted him. A loud growl tore from its throat. It recognized the wielder of the sword that had covered it with burns in the town square. Denzel's heart squeezed in his chest.
"Denzel! Get away from it!" Cloud yelled a second before jumping up onto the monster's back and stabbing his giant sword between its shoulder blades. A burst of flame shot up from inside the wound as Cloud flipped himself off of its back.
The beast roared in pain and twirled around to see who had dared to come so close. Denzel threw himself to the ground next to Niko, narrowly dodging the whipping tail. As soon as it was safely past, he jumped back to his feet. He put his arms beneath the soldier's armpits and started dragging him slowly backwards.
"Kid," Niko coughed, clearly pained from the friction of the pavement against his wounds. "You shouldn't be so close. It'll get you, too."
Denzel gritted his teeth and continued dragging Niko. "Cloud has it distracted. We'll be fine. I'm getting you away from it."
Niko sounded like he was having trouble breathing. Denzel prayed that the WRO had medics standing by, because he didn't think Niko could make it to the town hall in his condition.
Cloud was in an intense one-on-one battle with the thing. Denzel watched in fascination as he continued pulling Niko back. Cloud was strong enough to get his sword through the thick skin, and he was using a slash-materia attack to great effect, jumping up, starting a fire in each new wound he made and then jumping away before it could retaliate. There was something wrong though. He stopped dragging Niko and squinted at the beast's skin. A white film was coating the open burning wounds, extinguishing the flames and sealing the flesh.
Denzel gritted his teeth. He didn't think Cloud knew, and he had to tell him before he wasted any more energy and magic on it. "Cloud!" Denzel yelled. "It's healing itself!"
He didn't even consider that Cloud wasn't the only one who would hear his yell. The beast spun around to face him, catching Cloud by surprise with his tail. The force of it flung Cloud into a nearby building. He crashed through the third story window and disappeared into a puff of dust.
Denzel dropped Niko and ran the other way. He couldn't defend them both, and he needed to keep its attention away from the wounded soldier. He ducked between two buildings. The space between them was narrow enough that the beast couldn't fit a clawed foot between them, but as he soon realized, it didn't need to. It swatted at the buildings, tearing through them and throwing a shower of wood and plaster down on him. Denzel could only protect his head with his hands, and then he was buried in a pile of rubble.
Cloud had fallen through the two floors of the building and was now on the main level. He tried the front door, but it was locked, so he simply made himself a new doorway with his blade. He pushed through the debris just in time to see a pile of building materials collapsing on Denzel.
"Hey!" he yelled at the beast, but now it was too focused on the boy that was only feet away and had caused him so much grief earlier that day. Without thinking, Cloud sent out a blast of fire with his hand. That got its attention. A pained screech rang across the open area. The beast turned and ran in the other direction, howling loudly.
Cloud ignored the pain tearing through his abdomen and made his way over to the pile of rubble, but he was slowing. Heat was radiating from his skin, and his entire torso was burning from the inside. He grabbed the side of one of the torn buildings to support himself while he pulled off large beams and chunks of wall with his free hand.
Denzel pushed through the rubble once the heaviest pieces were off, a little scratched and bruised but otherwise no worse for the wear. Cloud, on the other hand, was having trouble staying on his feet. Denzel put his hands on his shoulders to steady him, shocked by the heat pulsing from his body. He looked like he was about to pass out. Denzel ordered him to sit down and lean against the building. He obeyed meekly.
Denzel glanced around, spotting the commander of the WRO. "Stay here!" he told Cloud, who was clearly not going anywhere. He sprinted toward the commander. The soldiers were now retrieving the wounded and bringing them back to the trucks to be treated by the medics.
"Hey! Hey, are you in charge here?" he asked the commander. He had heard him yelling out orders to the soldiers and his uniform was different, so it seemed a safe bet.
"Yes, Denzel," he said in a surprisingly soft voice. "Thank you for your help out there. You saved a lot of my men."
Denzel was taken aback by his response. He didn't feel like he had done much of anything besides drag Niko ineffectively. "How—how do you know my name?" Out of all the things he could have asked, that question was the one that popped from his mouth.
The commander rubbed his short-cropped hair. "Cloud talks about you sometimes."
Hearing Cloud's name was a sharp slap to the head, reminding him why he was there. "Do you have ice? I need a lot of ice."
The commander looked over his shoulder doubtfully. "The medics have some, but I can't spare that much right now. There are a lot of wounded soldiers to treat."
"Whatever you can spare," Denzel said quickly. "Cloud needs it. Badly."
Cloud's name clearly commanded a lot of respect in the man. He nodded and hurried over to the medic trucks, returning with two twenty pound bags of ice. "Is this enough?"
"I think so. Thank you," Denzel said, grabbing the ice and running back to where Cloud was slouched against the building. His skin was very red by then, and the blue of his eyes was almost completely lost in it. Denzel dropped one bag and ripped open the other, pouring the ice carefully over Cloud's body. It was melting fast. He grabbed two handfuls and pressed them to Cloud's face.
They were gone within minutes, and Cloud wasn't any more responsive. Getting worried, Denzel tore open the other bag and repeated the process. He held back a little more this time for his face. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed important to keep his head cool. He didn't want him to fry his brain or something. He dropped a handful on top of his head. The mess of spikes seemed to keep them from sliding off his head, so he piled on some more before going back to Cloud's face.
When almost the entire bag was melted, Cloud finally started to show some life. He grabbed a handful from the tiny pile remaining and shoved it in his mouth.
"Cloud?" Denzel asked tentatively. "Are you ok? What happened?"
Cloud took a deep breath and sat up, blinking tiredly. "I'll be ok in a few minutes," he said, answering only the first question.
"What happened?" Denzel asked again. "Why does that keep happening?"
Cloud looked at him. It was eerie to have those reddish blue eyes focused on him. They were familiar, but at the same time, just wrong. "The materia inside of me is growing," he finally said. "Every time I use it, it gets stronger. I didn't realize until recently that it was getting bigger too. It's burning me inside, but the mako heals my body so fast that it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter?" Denzel blustered. "You sure looked like it mattered five minutes ago."
"Yeah." Cloud looked troubled, drawing up his knee and resting an arm on it. "After I use it, it burns hotter and stronger for a while. Too hot for the mako to keep up."
The nagging guilt pecked at Denzel again, like poking a bruise that refused to heal. "Cloud, I don't think you should use it anymore. Ever. What if it gets too strong for your body to heal?"
Cloud sighed wearily. "I know. I haven't been. I wasn't thinking when I used it earlier. I just reacted."
Denzel tried not to show how much that statement worried him. Cloud didn't do things like that when he was fighting. He never made emotion-driven mistakes. He anticipated, countered, and responded instantly to his opponent. Every action had a purpose.
"So how are we going to beat this thing? I saw this white frost covering over the places where you were hurting it. I think it's healing itself."
Cloud rubbed one gloved hand through his dripping hair. "We'll just have to hurt it faster than it can heal itself." He got to his feet and straightened.
The commander of the WRO army looked relieved to see him on his feet again. He saluted Cloud when he arrived. Cloud just looked amused, and the commander quickly dropped his hand. Denzel got the feeling he'd been told more than once not to salute him, but old habits die hard, he supposed.
"Are you alright, sir?" he asked, straightening his cap.
Cloud nodded. "I'm fine. Were you able to recover all your troops?"
The commander glanced grimly back at the medic trucks. "The ones who could be saved, yes. There were many who couldn't," he said sadly.
Denzel looked again, hurting for the families of the many white-wrapped bundles being loaded into the back of one of the trucks. He was sick of seeing death everywhere he looked, and suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to fight anymore. Then his eyes drifted back to Cloud and he thought of all the people he'd saved, all those families who wouldn't be mourning their loved ones. If he stopped fighting, he would only be hiding in ignorance. Those people would still die, and the ones he could have saved would die, too. It would be cowardly to stop fighting just so that he wouldn't have to see it.
"Did you see where it went?" Cloud asked the commander.
"Yes. I think it was headed back to the town square." He hesitated for a moment. "Do you need backup?"
Cloud shook his head. "Your weapons weren't even hurting it."
"I know," the commander said uneasily. "We were just trying to keep it distracted until you came."
"If you have enough healthy soldiers, send them out in a grid across town to clean up the remaining monsters. I—" He glanced over at Denzel, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded firmly. "Denzel and I will take care of that thing."
The town square seemed to be its home base. It had returned there to lick its wounds. As Denzel had suspected, it was almost entirely healed. They stopped Fenrir just outside of the square and squatted behind a fallen pillar to watch it. Cloud pulled ethers and potions from his supply belt, handing some to Denzel. They drank what they needed until they were ready for battle again.
"Alright," Cloud said finally. "We're clear here, so you can use firaga. Put up a magic barrier just in case. Stay hidden. Don't let it see you. If it's looking toward you, stop casting until it looks away again. Promise you won't run out into the open, no matter what happens?"
"Cloud?" Denzel said hesitantly.
"This space is too small and it seems to have some kind of grudge against you. Plus, it's scared and unpredictable after that last attack. You can not let it see you." Cloud locked eyes with him. "Promise me, Denzel."
"Okay…I—I promise."
Cloud looked back at the beast. "Are you ready?"
"I'm ready," Denzel said with determination.
Cloud squeezed Denzel's shoulder once before darting out across the square. With a yell, he jumped up and buried Tsurugi's massive blade high in the monster's back. He ran down the monster's spine, creating a deep fissure with his sword. A line of fire flared up out of the crevice in his wake.
The beast roared and spun around before he reached the end, flinging Cloud from his back. Denzel gasped as he saw the black figure flying through the air, but Cloud gained control of his momentum in the air and flipped easily, landing on his feet. He crouched and sprang again.
Denzel began casting firaga from his hidden cove, enraptured as the battle unfolded. It was hard not to be lost in amazement, watching Cloud fight. He moved almost too fast to follow, every motion a seamless transition from the last, like a much-practiced dance. At first he worried about hitting him with the fire, but the concern was put to rest within minutes. He watched Cloud jump and slash and flip off again, over and over, starting little fires that sizzled and smoked inside of the monster. Denzel could see now that the firaga falling from the sky on his command were creating small burns on its skin that were quickly being healed, but it was keeping the beast off balance. It was a distraction, allowing Cloud the freedom to hit it from every angle.
They were making progress, he thought, but it was taking longer than any battle Denzel had ever seen. His foot was almost entirely pins and needles. He shifted to try to get a better angle, leaning his arm on the broken slab, but the rock was not as stable as it appeared. It tipped forward and hit the ground with a crash. The beam fell forward, completely exposing Denzel.
The crash was loud. Both Cloud and the monster looked at him – one pair of eyes widening, one narrowing. Denzel ran. He tried to stick to the perimeter of the square, but the destruction of the buildings and the broken ground had made it an obstacle course. He clambered over a thick slab of uprooted concrete, searching desperately for a place to hide. The monster was already lumbering toward him, swatting aside the debris in its path. Denzel knew he had to break its line of sight if he wanted to hide, but it had zeroed in on him with single-minded focus.
He pulled himself up over a fallen roof, taking one giant step over a treacherous hole. The roof held, but the shingle under his foot slipped free. His knee hit the rough surface and he threw his arms out, searching frantically for something to keep him from backsliding. His fingers slid uselessly over the roof and his leg shot through the hole. He had fallen through to his hip before the jagged boards snagged on his pants. The pain of the deep scrapes up his leg barely even registered with the monster breathing down his neck.
He started to panic and pulled frantically at his leg, but the shards just dug deeper into his flesh. He watched the monster raise one deadly claw above his head. Time seemed to slow as the claw began its descent. He looked over at Cloud. A wordless yell was coming from his mouth as he jumped at the monster and landed on its back, but he didn't use his sword. It looked like he was hugging the monster's neck, and then his whole body burst into flames.
The fire spread from there to cover the beast's head and body. It roared and stumbled back. The flames covering Cloud subsided immediately and he jumped off, but it wasn't his usual graceful flip. He disappeared behind a pile of debris in the square.
The giant fireball of a beast rolled around the square, smothering some of the external fire. Smoke poured from a dozen cuts, from its mouth and nose and eyes. Frost was extending in a huge circle around its body, dampening the wood of the surrounding buildings, but not quite managing to extinguish the fire burning it inside and out.
"Cloud!" Denzel yelled across the square. "CLOUD!" He wasn't answering, and Denzel had lost sight of him behind the devastation left behind by the beast. Denzel yanked against his leg, but every time he tried to pull, the wood dug deeper. Screaming in frustration, he pulled out Skoll. Using the hilt, he hammered against the wood until he broke off enough of the pieces to widen the hole. He got his other foot underneath him and pushed.
His leg came out with a lurch, scraping against the jagged shards of wood he hadn't managed to dislodge. The square had quieted by then. The beast had stopped rolling around and was now nothing more than a charred, twitching blob.
Denzel's leg was badly gouged and streaming blood. His first instinct was to run to Cloud, but he cried out and fell to one knee when he tried to put his weight on the damaged leg. Impatiently, he stopped and focused on a cure. The cool tingling had just barely started when the lifestream began fighting against his weak push. He was out of magic points, but he'd had enough to get the deepest gashes and slow the worst of the bleeding. He snatched up his sword and limped as quickly as he could to the place where he'd last seen Cloud.
He finally reached the pile of bricks and bent metal blocking his view. Cloud was on the ground on his hands and knees, panting, but still awake. Denzel knelt in front of him, holding onto his arms and pushing him into a sitting position. They were burning hot, but Denzel refused to let go.
"Cloud! I told you not to use that materia!" He was so angry that he wanted to shake his mentor until his teeth rattled.
Cloud's breath scraped harshly against his raw throat. "It was the only way…to keep it…from you."
Denzel didn't understand the anger coursing through him. It should have been concern or fear, but it wasn't. He was just mad. "It wasn't the only way! You could have gotten its attention somehow…" He couldn't think of anything in particular at the moment, but the point was that Cloud should have. He always knew what to do. How could he have done something so stupid and impulsive?
Cloud didn't even seem to hear him. He slumped forward and Denzel pushed him back up. Getting angry wasn't helping. Anger clouds your mind… "Yes, Cloud, I remember," he muttered to the voice in his head. He swallowed it back and forced himself to focus on solutions. "Can't you cure yourself?" Smoke was all around him, and Denzel coughed and waved his hand in front of his face.
Cloud just shook his head. Denzel didn't know if that meant he couldn't or hadn't or what he'd even tried, but it seemed to be too much effort for Cloud to talk. Denzel let go of one arm and started digging through Cloud's supply belt. He pulled out everything, spilling bottles across the ground. He searched through them frantically. His eyes were tearing up from the smoke, making it hard to see, but he squinted and ran his fingers over each of the bottles, feeling for the distinct shape of the ether bottle. He finally found it, pulled the cork with his teeth, and downed it.
As soon as he felt the clearing sensation in his head, he started casting cure on Cloud, opening the stream wider than he ever had before. The soothing magic was pouring into him, but it was making little difference. The smoke thinned out a bit, but Denzel couldn't keep the stream open indefinitely, not the way Marlene could. As soon as he stopped, the smoke thickened again, and Cloud folded over on himself.
Denzel caught his arms and pushed him into a sitting position again. He started another stream of cure, but Cloud stopped him. "It's not working," he rasped, puffing out a solid stream of smoke.
"But—there has to be something! We just have to stop the burning!"
With a shaking hand, Cloud reached over to his left arm and untied his ribbon. He held it out to Denzel.
"No," Denzel shook his head, eyes wide. "No, Cloud, you need that."
Cloud grimaced against the surge of pain that shot through him. "It's over, Denzel. It's grown too much." He gasped and dropped the ribbon, arms automatically going to his abdomen.
Denzel blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to overflow. "Cloud, stop this! You're not…you'll be ok. We still have time! We can figure it out!"
Cloud said nothing, just shook his head. His face was contorted in pain. Denzel was the only thing keeping him upright anymore.
Denzel released his arms and slowly picked up the ribbon. Cloud slid down to the ground on his side. Denzel bit his lip and tied on the ribbon. When he looked up, Cloud's eyes had drifted closed.
"Hey!" Denzel yelled, grabbing his arm frantically.
Cloud fought against the weight of his eyelids. He reached out to grip Denzel's wrist weakly. A slurpy, sloshing sound behind him indicated an impending battle at the worst possible time.
"Just hang in there a little longer," Denzel begged. He glanced over his shoulder at the marlboro approaching, moving its sticky tentacles along the ground. "Let me take care of this, and then we'll get you to Tifa. She'll know what to do. Just stay right there!"
Denzel pulled his wrist out of Cloud's burning hand, and it flopped limply onto the ground. He spun around and jumped to his feet, whipping out his sword. This marlboro was going to pay. Denzel screamed and swung his sword as hard as he could. The form was as natural to him as breathing now. The plant-beast roared in pain. Water. They're weak to water. Denzel quickly pulled the lifestream to him, thrusting his arm at the monster, drenching him with water. The marlboro squealed even louder. Then it opened its mouth.
"No!" Denzel yelled, knowing exactly what that meant. He swung frantically, but he couldn't stop it. The marlboro let out a huge belch of bad breath at the same time Denzel's sword sliced across its face. It screeched again and Denzel braced himself for the plethora of status changes, but it felt different this time. The ribbon tingled on his arm, and he found himself totally unaffected. He laughed out loud, a high pitched, panicky laugh. The ribbon. Cloud's ribbon…Cloud!
Denzel spun around, but Cloud was gone. A haze of smoke drifted, clearing in the slight breeze. "What? No! Where did he—" His eyes landed on a small frog lying where Cloud used to be. He screamed in rage, turning back to the marlboro. He pulled the lifestream back again, spraying a nonstop river of water magic on the beast. It screeched and writhed. Denzel doused it with water until it finally stopped screeching and slumped down to the ground.
With the marlboro silenced, he sheathed his sword and ran back to the frog. He picked up the tiny amphibian, gangly green legs splayed across his fingers. It was slightly warm still, but rapidly cooling. He refused to think about what that meant.
He fell to his knees with the frog in his hand and stroked its scaly green head. He could still fix this. Digging through his memory of status ailments, he finally remembered what he needed.
Gently setting down the cold frog, he crawled over to the supplies still rolling around on the ground. He sifted through the bottles and containers quickly, shoving away the useless medicines as he came across them. Finally, he found a maiden's kiss and pressed it against the rubbery amphibian skin. The frog grew and morphed until it was a full-sized Cloud shape.
Denzel crawled back up to Cloud's head and picked up one limp hand. The smoke had stopped pouring out of him, so the fire must have burned out. Desperately, he cast cure, but nothing happened. His hero's body lay slack and motionless. Deep inside, he had already known it wouldn't work. Cloud's skin was like ice. He was too late.
It was so unfair! No matter what Cloud had said about guilt, no matter how many times he told him not to let it tear him apart, he could never forgive himself. Cloud had saved him in so many ways, and how had he repaid him? By hiding a stupid, careless mistake and killing him slowly. He should have just admitted it when he broke the materia slot. He would have gotten in trouble, but who cares? He would have done chores for the rest of his life if he had to. Denzel felt like his soul was being crushed. Was this how Cloud had felt about Zack? About Aerith? How did he ever go on with his life?
He rested his head on Cloud's cold stomach and let the softness of his shirt absorb the tears. He knew he had to tell Tifa and Marlene. He couldn't carry his body back himself, but he couldn't bear to leave him. The ground was shaking with the force of the attack, but it wasn't Denzel's problem. The city would have to deal with their own problems for once. Actually, it wouldn't be for once, would it? The city would have to deal with their own problems forever, without Cloud there to fix everything for them.
The thought stabbed him like a knife. Cloud wasn't going to be there. Ever. Not for school plays or graduations or weddings. Not to train with his sword. Not to tease Tifa or eat the last of the meat or disapprove of Denzel's music. Fenrir would sit in the garage and slowly collect dust, and then rust. His clothes would have to be packed up and stuck in the attic, forever to smell like mothballs. His weapons would be given away or discarded, because Denzel certainly didn't deserve to have them. For some reason, the practicalities hit him the hardest. He'd never had to do that for his parents or for Ruvie. When they were gone, so was everything else. He just walked away. It was never easy, but at least it was easier to move on without those constant reminders of the way things used to be. That wouldn't happen this time. Everything would stay the same, except for that one, glaringly absent piece.
The ground shook harder, and it only made him angrier. He just wanted these last few minutes with Cloud and the planet couldn't even leave him alone for that. He put his hands on the asphalt to brace himself, and that's when he realized that the ground wasn't shaking. Denzel sat up. Cloud was shaking. Was it some kind of post-mortem convulsion? He grabbed Cloud's arm, trying to steady him. It seemed wrong, like the ultimate indignity for someone who should never, ever be disrespected. And then he noticed the tiny blisters popping up across his face. He'd been hit with poison, too. A loud sob escaped Denzel. It was likely a waste of supplies, but he couldn't bear to leave Cloud like that.
He crawled over to the bottles, most of which had scattered and rolled under various debris. It was hard enough to find the right medicine through tear-blurred vision, but when he heard the squelch of a flan, he lost any composure he had left.
He screamed and pulled out Skoll, running at the stupid amorphous blob. His foot landed on a strange-shaped green rock and started skidding, dropping him down on his scraped knee again. If there was ever a time for cathartic monster attacking, he needed it now. He lunged to his feet and hacked and slashed the rubbery monster, doing very little damage, but burning with white hot rage. Eventually his voice grew hoarse from screaming. His arms tired from swinging, and the flan still wasn't dead. He lifted his sword and blasted the stupid blob apart with thundaga.
The goo splattered everything in the square. Denzel didn't care. His shoulders heaved with his breathing. He lowered his head, seeing the little bottle of remedy the flan had dropped. A gift from the planet? Too little, too late, he thought bitterly. Still, it was what he needed. He bent down and picked up the bottle from the puddle of slime. Carrying it to Cloud's still form like an offering, he knelt down next to him and poured it gently over his face, hoping it would still work to get rid of the poison bumps.
Cloud flinched at the cold liquid and rolled onto his side, curling his body in on itself. He opened his eyes, and sky blue without a trace of red peered up at Denzel. "Gaia, did I get frogged?"
Denzel was in shock. He felt numb. He couldn't speak, so he nodded dumbly.
Cloud sat up and huddled against the shivering. "Gods, it's been so long since I've been frogged. It takes forever to get warm." He looked at Denzel's shocked face. "They're cold-blooded, you know," he explained matter-of-factly.
Denzel gaped at him. "But you…I mean…other than cold…how do you feel?"
"Ugh," he groaned. "Like I've been hit with frog and poison and sleep all at the same time. Cloud stood up and reached out his arms, but he froze mid-stretch, taking in the destruction of the square around him. The memories came rushing back and he frowned, lowering a hand to his stomach. "I feel fine. And…different. Denz, I…I think it's gone!"
Denzel suddenly remembered the strange rock he had tripped over. He glanced around him, but there was so much debris covering the square that he didn't have much hope of finding it anymore. Then Cloud did something unexpected. He laughed. And then he laughed harder. Several minutes later, Denzel was starting to wonder if he had come back from the dead without his sanity.
"Why are you laughing?" he finally asked.
"Oh…gods…oh, Denzel. It was the frogging!" He laughed again, shaking his head.
"Will you please stop laughing and explain this to me?" Denzel demanded. His emotions were still pretty raw and he thought he might lose his mind if Cloud laughed again.
Thankfully, Cloud managed to smother it. "Sorry, Denz. It's just…I hate getting frogged. Your stomach shrinks with the rest of you, you know, so if you've eaten anything recently it gets shoved out and splatters all over the ground. Everyone else has to step around it for the rest of the fight and then when they bring you back, you're cold and hungry and there's always another battle waiting. I hated it so much." He tugged gently at the ribbon still tied around Denzel's arm. "I've hardly taken that ribbon off since I first found it."
Denzel blinked and started to untie the ribbon, but Cloud stopped him. "Keep it."
"But…what if you get incapacitated?" Denzel asked, remembering their conversation on the mountain.
Cloud looked thoughtful for a moment, then dug through his supply belt and he pulled out a ring. "I got this for you, actually, but I think the ribbon suits you." He slid the ring on his own finger. "Peace ring, so I won't attack you. If anything else happens, you'll take care of me. Right?"
Denzel nodded slowly. "I would but…I don't like that feeling. I'd feel better if you had the ribbon." He untied it and held it out to Cloud, who smiled softly and swapped him for the ring. He appreciated Cloud's faith in him, but they both knew that Cloud would always be the protector. The planet had chosen his path for him when his abilities were forced upon him. That was his role, regardless of what he wanted.
Denzel twisted the ring around his finger. Peace ring. It sounded nice. He was glad that he'd learned how to fight, but peace sounded really good, too.
He was startled by the sound of Fenrir starting up. His head whipped around to see Cloud back in the seat of his beloved bike.
"Where are you going?" Denzel asked.
"Get on," Cloud said with a determined look on his face. "We're not done cleaning up this town."
Denzel grinned and hopped on. Peace could start tomorrow.
The cemetery was peaceful. Denzel stood and looked down at the hastily scribbled marker for Jason Keenan. There would be nice headstones and memorials made later, but for the time being, the city was overwhelmed with cleaning up the dead.
A shadow fell over the marker. "He never got a chance to tell you he was sorry," a soft voice murmured.
Denzel looked at the boy standing next to him. "What did he have to be sorry for?"
Jesse shrugged sadly. "Nothing, really. It was my fault more than his, but he always tried to take the blame for my actions."
Denzel's eyes shifted back down to the barren patch of ground. "Then what do you have to be sorry for?"
"For blaming you. For blaming Cloud. I didn't want to admit the truth, but Jason always knew." Jesse pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Denzel.
Denzel glanced over at him curiously, but Jesse had his hands tucked in his pockets, staring off into the distance. Denzel carefully unfolded the note. It was a drawing on regular lined school paper. It was cartoonish, drawn by an unskilled hand, but it was easy enough to identify by the absurdly long tail and full coverage of spikes. It was the giant monster they had fought in the town square. The word 'Fluffy' was scribbled underneath. "I don't understand," he said, looking back at Jesse. Why would he give that to him?
"Jason drew it," he said absently.
Denzel suddenly felt ice rushing through his veins, because Jason should never have had the chance to draw it. He refolded the note, trying to sound normal. "When did he do that?"
"That morning." There was no need to ask which morning. Denzel tried to hand it back, but Jesse shook his head. "You'll probably want to show it to Cloud. I'm guessing he knows something about what's happening here, doesn't he?"
Denzel stuck the paper in his back pocket, dreading going into this blame game again. "He has his suspicions," Denzel said quietly. But Jesse had nothing to add. After a moment, Denzel decided to ask what was on his mind. "Where did Jason see that thing?" Even Cloud hadn't known what it was, and it would have been pretty hard for him to miss something that big with the amount of traveling he did.
"In his head," was Jesse's response. He finally met Denzel's gaze. "He kept trying to tell us that he was causing all those monsters to show up in town. Dad and I tried to convince him he was crazy. Dad said that it had to be 'that mako-juiced psychopath', Cloud." He smiled apologetically. "I guess we wanted to believe it so badly because the alternative…"
People were starting to congregate around the other grave markers, so Denzel nodded his head toward a path, indicating that they should walk. Jesse nodded and fell into step beside him.
"At first, it was just a bunch of monsters that we'd never even seen before," Jesse continued. "But when Dad went to the town meeting, Cloud said he recognized all of them. He said they were from all over the planet. For Dad and me, that was enough proof that Jason couldn't be causing it. He'd never even seen most of those monsters. But Jason was still convinced."
Jesse angrily kicked a rock on the path into a puddle of water. "Then he started telling us about these creatures that he was finding around town. They were ones he'd only dreamed up. He brought a couple home and they seemed pretty harmless. One was just this funky looking blob that sat in the palm of his hand. It had an eye right on the top of its head, but it didn't seem to be able to move or anything. Dad made him put it outside, so Jason stuck it under the front steps."
They were far enough from the newer markers now, in an older part of the cemetery that clearly had few visitors. He stopped and picked absently at the weathered stone of a soul long gone. "We went under there a few weeks later and found it still sitting in the same spot. It was dead, of course. It had no way of moving or eating or anything, so it couldn't survive. Jason got really adamant after that. He said it was proof that it was created out of his head."
Jesse dragged his eyes back to the worn path. "Dad and I just tried harder to convince him that it was a ridiculous idea. We tried harder to convince ourselves that it was Cloud's fault. Maybe if we would have believed him, he wouldn't have drawn that picture." He wrapped his arms around himself, looking for comfort or warmth. "He was so desperate to prove it to us. He came up with this silly idea of a beast, big enough that we couldn't miss it, with a tail longer than its body."
He started walking again, so Denzel followed. "He wasn't that good at drawing, but he always had this insanely vivid imagination, you know? I guess it looked a little different in his head than on paper."
Denzel had to agree. The monster on the paper was cartoonish and silly, but the beast that had come to life was anything but.
"When we heard the rumbling sound, Jason said we had to track it down. He needed us to believe him. If we had believed in him from the start, we could have spent that time figuring out how to stop it from happening instead of trying to convince him someone else was to blame." The look on Jesse's face resounded eerily with Denzel. It seemed that everyone was struggling with their guilt.
Denzel's mouth was dry. "I don't blame you," he finally said. "It sounds crazy. Of course it was hard for you to believe."
They had reached the edge of the bluff that created the natural border of the cemetery. Jesse stopped and turned to face him. His eyes were pained. "But he was my brother. I should have believed him." His shoulders slumped. "I guess it's my turn to deal with the consequences of both of our actions."
Denzel didn't know what to say. He wanted to say something comforting. He honestly didn't blame Jason or Jesse; Cloud's little family had understood what was causing it, and even they didn't figure out a way to stop it.
They stood there in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, their own mistakes, their own guilt. Denzel was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he needed to know for sure that it was over. "Did…did Jason have Geostigma?" he asked tentatively.
Jesse didn't answer right away. Denzel was about to drop it when he finally spoke. "Yeah. I think he was always too good for this planet. It tried to take him away back then. I used to pray every night for it to go away. I swore I would be a better brother if he would just be healed. And then this miracle happened. It just…it rained, and then the Stigma was just gone. We never found out why or how, but later we learned that it disappeared from everywhere."
Denzel just nodded. It didn't matter anymore.
"Sometimes I feel like I went back on my promise, and that's why Jason died five years later anyway. I never was a very good brother to him."
"No!" Denzel grabbed Jesse's arm and forced him to face him. "No. That's not true."
Jesse snorted derisively. "How would you know? You don't know how I treated him when we were at home. We fought over such stupid little things, like who got the nicer blanket or whose turn it was to take out the trash. I did all kinds of rotten things and then let him take the blame for them." Tears started to well up in his eyes and he swiped at them angrily.
"I know because…I could see how much he loved you. Otherwise he wouldn't have done what he did to save you."
Jesse laughed through his tears. "Yeah he would've. Jason was like that." He turned back to the bluff and stared out over the wasteland below. "Besides, he couldn't stand the idea that it might happen again. He couldn't deal with the thought that he was responsible for killing those 19 people in the first attack. How would he deal with the 307 that died this time?"
He shook his head sadly. "No, it's better that he never found out. He had these dreams where he saw all those monsters. At first it was just a few, and he just saw them wandering around in the ruins. He told me about the dreams at the time, but nothing ever happened, so we thought they were just dreams. Then one night he dreamed of a big mob of them attacking the town. The next morning, there they were."
Denzel dug his hands into his pockets and watched a couple of young cubs running through the valley below. They looked so harmless, just running freely, nipping at each other playfully. "Did you see them that time?"
"Naw," Jesse said. "We didn't even know about them until Dad went to the town meeting. He came back steaming mad, saying how they were all giving Cloud credit for cleaning up. Me and Jason looked at each other because we knew about the dream, but we didn't tell Dad then. I mean, we didn't even know what the monsters looked like. It could've been something completely different."
Denzel nodded in understanding. He knew that feeling – coincidences that he couldn't be sure were related to his drawings, wondering if he was crazy, wishing he could talk to someone about it. At least Jason had his brother.
"The next time it happened, Cloud was out of town." Jesse laughed dryly. "And then Dad was furious that Cloud wasn't there to do his job."
Denzel tried not to get angry. Jesse was just relaying the message, after all. Instead of saying what he really wanted to say, he kept his voice light and asked, "Why does he hate Cloud so much?"
"Isn't it always about a girl?" Jesse asked, looking over with a smirk. "He was with Tifa before Cloud came along." Denzel could hear the bitterness carried through the tone of the son. "It was after Mom died. He was having a hard time with it and Tifa was 'comforting' him, I guess. Then Cloud showed up in Midgar and told Tifa a bunch of lies about Dad and then he stole her away."
Denzel looked at him skeptically. It sounded incredibly one-sided. As far as he knew, Cloud and Tifa didn't get together until near the end of their journey, but he had never really wanted to know the details.
"Jesse!" Jameson's voice echoed over the hill. "Jesse?"
"I'm over here, Dad," Jesse called back.
Jameson came jogging over the hill, breathing heavily. "Jesse, it's time to—" His eyes flickered to his son's companion. "Hello, Denzel," he said quietly. At least it didn't sound bitter on his tongue this time. "Come on Jesse, let's go."
Jameson turned to walk away, but stopped when he realized Jesse wasn't following. He turned back to look at the last remaining member of his family. Jesse raised his eyebrows, as if his father was missing something obvious.
Jameson pressed his lips together and looked back at Denzel. "I don't—blame you. You or Cloud." He turned and started to walk away, not checking back for Jesse this time. Jesse gave Denzel an exasperated half-smile. That was probably the closest thing to an apology Denzel would ever get.
"Thank you," Denzel called after him impulsively. Jameson didn't turn around, but he stopped. "For pulling me back on the bridge."
The big man looked like he was shaking. He nodded once before walking away.
"Cloud, can we go somewhere?" Denzel asked. "To talk?"
Cloud looked up from the mail he'd been going through at one of the bar tables. It seemed absurd to be doing something so mundane after all the excitement, but bills had to be paid. "Uh, sure. Want to go up to your room, or…?"
"No, I mean somewhere away from here. Away from Midgar." Denzel missed the smell and softness of the grass from their trip. He was tired of the constant sounds of hammers and saws and people.
Cloud studied him thoughtfully. "Just for a few hours?"
"Yeah," Denzel confirmed. "Just us." Marlene was off somewhere with Lexi, but he had this paranoia that she would still find a way to eavesdrop if they talked there.
"Ok." Cloud stood and went to tell Tifa.
They drove out to a place with rolling hills and grass as far as the eye could see, as if Cloud had known exactly what he needed. Or maybe it was something Cloud needed himself. He had always hated the bustle of the city.
Cloud pushed down the kickstand of the bike with his heel while Denzel climbed off. He swung his leg over the side, but he stayed perched on the seat. Denzel wandered around, running his fingers over the rough bark of the trees and inhaling the smells of nature. He could definitely get used to this.
He picked up a fallen stick from the ground. It was newly broken, still green inside and flexible. He flexed it back and forth, marveling at the beauty of nature away from the toxic spread of mako energy. Cloud was still waiting patiently for him to speak, but Denzel didn't know where to start. Finally, he started with the part that had been bugging him since his talk with Jesse.
"What happened between Tifa and Jameson?"
To his surprise, Cloud laughed. "Nothing happened. They were friends growing up. When we got older, he had a crush on her, but so did all the guys back home. Tifa just wasn't interested. She was deeply involved with AVALANCHE and didn't have time for 'frivolous things like relationships'." He grinned at Denzel's skeptical look. "Those were her words, I swear."
"But she had time for you?" Denzel asked.
"Heh. No. She wasn't interested in a relationship with me, either." Cloud stood and walked slowly over to a huge tree, leaning against the trunk. "But you know how Tifa is. She needs to fix people, and I was the most broken person she'd ever met. I didn't know it at the time, but she did. She kept me close because she was worried about me."
He grinned and looked back at Denzel. "Of course I might have been a little possessive when he came to see her, but it was pretty obvious that she wasn't into him. I grilled her about him once after he left the bar." He winced. "You want a word of advice, Denz? Don't ever act like a jealous meathead around a woman like Tifa. She was not impressed." Cloud shrugged. "I guess he didn't take it very well when we left Midgar to rescue Aerith and then chase Sephiroth, but I think he just always imagined they were closer than they were. She didn't even tell him she was leaving."
Denzel smiled, feeling much more at ease. He'd been told that Cloud was different back when he first came to Midgar, although no one had ever explained exactly what that meant. He still couldn't imagine he'd ever been the type of person that Jameson seemed to think he was. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded paper. "Jason drew this, the morning before he…died."
Cloud looked curious as he unfolded it. He stared at the picture, confused at first, but then understanding came into his eyes. "So he was the one," he said softly.
Denzel bent the stick a little too far and it splintered in his hands. "You knew one of the kids with Geostigma was making it happen?" he asked. He couldn't help feeling a little betrayed that he hadn't let them in on that little secret, even though they'd gotten so many things out in the open during their talk.
Cloud carefully folded the paper back up. "I suspected. I knew someone had to be summoning them because they were showing up inside of the walls, and I didn't think anyone would do it on purpose. I didn't realize he could create them out of his head, though. That's…powerful."
Denzel nodded in awe. "So I guess everyone's abilities aren't helpful like mine and Lexi's."
"No," Cloud said, frowning at nothing as he stared off into the distance. "I'm sure there are some more dangerous ones out there."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Denzel asked eagerly. "Can you find out everyone that was there at the pond?"
Cloud seemed annoyed. "Me? There's nothing I can do. No one was ever able to find a cure for the Stigma, and back then, everyone was desperate to find one. Even if we figured out who these kids were, what would we do about it?"
Denzel felt the anger flaring up again. He jumped to his feet and stormed toward Cloud. "Who else is gonna fix this if you don't? I mean, you're the one who started everything! You put Sephiroth in the lifestream and—"
"Don't go there," Cloud said tightly, his jaw clenching. "Fight her."
The light flickered in the depth of his eyes, and Denzel saw it then – the anger. It was there, like anyone else, but Cloud kept it on a very tight leash. Now that the red was gone, now that he was no longer being burned from the inside out, it was carefully controlled again. The Cloud that had stormed off into the woods, or the one that had terrified him in the cabin, or even the one who had panicked and made a foolish mistake during the fight with Fluffy, wouldn't be seen again.
Denzel clenched his hands into fists, letting his fingernails dig into his palms. Little by little, it released him. He didn't understand why, but it was always hardest to control his anger around Cloud. He didn't even realize he had voiced it out loud until Cloud answered him.
"I think she's still trying to get under my skin." He turned away and lowered his head. "Once upon a time…I was her favorite puppet. I did things that…" He couldn't seem to finish his sentence.
Denzel stood looking at his back, speechless. He never knew, but it made sense. It explained why he seemed to know so much about her and the way she worked. What would happen if Jenova controlled someone as powerful as Cloud? As scary as that thought was, it gave him hope. He took a few steps toward him. "How did you get rid of her?"
Cloud was motionless except for the wind that tugged at his clothes and mussed his hair. His tone was flat. "I didn't. She's still there. I just got better at resisting her."
"Oh." Denzel dug the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. "Is that how you always know when she's…controlling me?"
Cloud turned around and gave him a hard look. "She's not controlling you, Denzel. She's influencing you. There's a big difference." His voice softened then. "And I know because I can see it in your eyes."
Denzel closed his eyes, as if he could see her right then. "Will you help me?" he asked timidly. "If I can't get rid of her, will you help me resist her? I don't like feeling this way."
Cloud sighed, and Denzel felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "I'll try, but you're the one who has to do it. I can't fight this battle for you."
He opened his eyes. He was sorry that he'd lost his temper and blamed him, but he still felt that Cloud had some responsibility to help. "But…there's still kids out there who are scared and confused and don't understand how to control the strange things that keep happening to them. "
Cloud pushed his hands through his hair. "Look, I'll explain to the council what I know. If they want to do something about it, they can. I just want to stay out of it."
Slowly, Denzel nodded. "I understand." If there was one lesson to be learned out of all of this, it should have been that Cloud was human. His senses were enhanced, yes, and he was stronger and faster than most, but he just wanted to be a normal person and live his own life. He didn't want to be responsible for the rest of the planet, or even the rest of the city.
Cloud sat down with his back against the tree. He leaned back his head and closed his eyes. Denzel stretched out on the grass next to him and put his hands behind his head. It was strange. He saw Cloud so differently now. He wasn't unbreakable. He wasn't infallible. He made mistakes. But he was still unlike anyone in the world. He was still his hero.
Without opening his eyes, Cloud muttered. "Quit staring at me. You're creeping me out."
Denzel laughed just as Cloud's phone rang. One blue eye opened a crack to peek over at him. "You wanna get that? I'm comfortable."
"Sure," Denzel said, getting to his feet. The phone was still attached to its clip on Fenrir. By the time he pressed the button to answer, it was finishing the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey Denzel," Tifa said, sounding puzzled. "Why are you answering Cloud's phone?"
Denzel glanced over at the tree. "Eh, he's just being lazy."
"Relaxing!" Cloud said loudly.
Tifa heard, and laughed. "I'm just wondering when you boys will be home. I was thinking about grilling behemoth burgers tonight."
"Excellent!" Denzel said. "Don't worry, we'll be there. How long do we have?"
"It's still early," Tifa said. "You can stay out for a couple more hours."
"Gotcha," Denzel said. "See you then!"
"Bye, Denzel," Tifa said with a smile in her voice.
Denzel put the phone back on the hook and resumed his place on the ground next to Cloud. He crossed his legs and leaned back on his arms. "Tifa's grilling behemoth tonight," he announced.
"Mm hmm," Cloud said drowsily. Of course he'd heard the whole conversation.
Denzel laid back and stared up at the sky. The grass tickled the back of his neck. "Do you think…" he started.
"What is it?" Cloud asked, lifting his head to look over at him.
"Well, since Jason's gone now…do you think things will go back to normal?"
Cloud leaned his head back on the tree. "Denzel, I don't even know what normal is anymore. But there shouldn't be any more attacks on the town." He paused and studiously avoided looking at the teen. "Is normal what you want?" There was a hint of anxiety in the question that was hard to interpret.
Denzel chewed on a blade of grass while he thought about how to define normal. He thought of his parents – his dad going to work in an office, his mother running around, always keeping up appearances. Obviously, he couldn't have them back. But did he want to live with people like them? If he suddenly found a "normal" couple to adopt him, would he want to go? Maybe that's what Cloud was asking.
He let the grass drift from his fingers and struggled to articulate what he wanted to say. "Not other people's normal. I don't want us to be like other families. Just…our normal."
Cloud smiled faintly. "Our normal," he repeated. "Whatever that means."
Jesse wiped the sweat from his head with the back of his work glove, more successful in smearing mud than drying it. The sun beat down on the wreckage of the town square, making the workers hot and cranky. The noise of the cranes and machinery in the background made it nearly impossible to talk to anyone, but he didn't mind. Jesse spent more time thinking these days, less talking.
Of course, his constant companion since the day he was born was no longer by his side, and he was beginning to realize that not everyone wanted to hear every thought that popped into his head. Jason was the perfect sidekick, laughing at his jokes and agreeing with every opinion he voiced. Without that validation, he paid more attention to other people's reactions, and they really weren't good. The goodwill sympathy he'd been given after losing his brother would only go so far, and he learned something that bothered him greatly: people really didn't like him.
He leaned on his shovel and shook off one of the gloves. A young girl was walking around handing out water bottles, and he took one from her. In return, he gave her a small smile and a quiet 'thank you.' She probably didn't hear it, but she could read his lips. The response was dramatic. A grin lit up her face, revealing a missing front tooth. She skipped on to the next person. It was funny, he realized. She was a cute little kid, which was something he never would have noticed before. He wouldn't have given her more than a passing glance as he snatched the water she offered. He wouldn't have cared what she thought or felt. Now he watched as she shyly approached the workers with her bottles of water. Everyone was wrapped up in their own tasks, and with all the noise in the background, it was difficult for her to get their attention without being accidentally elbowed or stepped on.
Jesse tipped back his water and let the cool bliss trickle down his throat. He never knew water could taste so amazing, but then again, he'd never worked himself so hard. It was something else new to him. He had never done something he didn't have to do, and his father always acted like physical labor was beneath him, an attitude that Jesse had adopted. But it seemed right that he would help clean up the town square. Most of the people in town would never know his or Jason's role in the catastrophes; as far as they were concerned, he was just another volunteer.
He finished his water and tucked the bottle into his backpack to dispose of later. Putting his hand back into the hot, dirty glove didn't feel good, but it was time to get back to it. He stabbed his shovel into the pile of debris and lifted a huge load of shingles and burned wood. He looked up to toss it into the nearby wheelbarrow, and the little girl caught his attention again. A large man had stepped backwards and tripped on her. It looked like he was scolding her for being in the way. He threw a few coarse words at her and went back to work like it had never happened, but the shamed look on her face didn't immediately fade. Her shoulders slumped, and she set a bottle of water next to the man's toolbox before slinking away. It made Jesse angry. He was angry about the way the man had reacted, mostly because it reminded him of his own callousness in the past. How many times had he made someone else feel like that and then went about his business like it never happened?
He sighed and tossed the load from his shovel into the wheelbarrow. This self-reflection was really hard for him. As he drove the shovel into the mess again, something twinkling caught his eye. He walked closer and dug it out. It was a strange green stone, just barely translucent. It looked similar to the orbs he'd once seen Denzel carrying, except that it was much bigger and not perfectly rounded. It looked more like a circle and a rectangle had been mashed together, connected at the edge.
It was something Jason would have liked to see. He was interested in stones and collected pretty much anything natural and colorful. Jesse thought about bringing it to Jason's grave, but then he had a better idea. He stuck it in his pocket and went back to work.
At the end of the day, he cleaned up and returned the tools he had been using to the supply truck. He was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, he reflected. The machines had shut down for the night and he could hear again. Most of the other workers seemed to know each other, and they called out their goodbyes as they packed up and left.
The little girl was helping some of the adults pack up the food and water that had been set up for the volunteers. "Hey," he called out when he got close. The little girl looked up and skipped over at his beckoning. He knelt down to her level. "I found something really cool when I was cleaning up," he said, pulling out the strange stone.
The little girl's eyes grew wide. "Is it a treasure from the ruins?" she whispered excitedly, looking at the shiny green object.
A memory surfaced then, sweet but tinged with longing. It was a game he had often played with his brother when they were little, when their imaginations were bigger than their egos. The wreck of the town square was exactly the type of thing they would have imagined into ancient ruins, ripe for adventuring.
He blinked back the tears that sprang up unexpectedly and placed it into the little girl's palm. "I don't know much about treasure, so maybe you should have it," he said, hoping she couldn't hear the tremble in his voice. "I think you earned it today. You brought me water just when I needed it, every time."
The smile lit up her face. She clutched it tightly in her hand as she ran back to the others. "Mom! Mom! Look what I got!"
Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets and started the walk toward home. It was such a little thing to make that girl so happy – just a pretty stone.