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All people and places belong to Square-Enix and/or Disney.
The title belongs to Joni Mitchell.

While Sora was busy saving worlds, two lone warriors from two lost worlds were busy saving each other: A 7/8/KH collage of humorous bits and introspective pieces, pasted together with passion on a background of friendship and love.

Rated M for sex, language and violence. Spoilers for all.

If you're in a big hurry to reach your destination, perhaps you should try another avenue. This is a romance between Cloud Strife and Squall Leonhart; it hardly moves at all.

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Part One - Traverse Town
-Chapter One-
Disquiet In The Night
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Somewhere in the distance a dog was barking, faint and far off; a solemn staccato that carried across the stillness to the ears of a man who lay listening, alone in the night, when shadows play and sleep won't come.

Alone in his bed, with only his recurrent dreams and restless demons for company. They were always wakeful too, locked in their own unrelenting dance like the shadows on the wall, circling in a ghostly waltz to a tempo of their own. Advancing and receding like the ebb and flow of tides, like lovers cast in silhouette, embracing and retreating in the streetlight's amber glow.

Alone in the desolate hours, with no warm body for distraction, no arms for comfort. Comfort was not allowed; companionship, denied. The dance of love, unwanted.

The dog's barking became more insistent, worrisome, and the window of time when a return to sleep was possible had long since passed; even without the disruption, there would be no more sleep tonight. With a sigh of resignation, the man rose in the dark and dressed quietly so as not to disturb the other occupants of the small house. Grabbing his gunblade, he stepped outside to investigate.

He paused momentarily to listen before turning towards the door that led to Second District, leaning into the heavy wooden gate with a shove of his shoulder and then waiting on the other side until it had closed behind him with a solid, satisfying thunk. Then he was moving, quickly and quietly, through the deserted town, past closed shops and shuttered houses, towards the sound of the barking dog. The only other sounds to be heard were the muffled footfalls of his steps and the gentle clinking of his belts, the soft swish of leather and occasional whoosh of his gunblade, but even most of the Heartless were still sleeping in this early hour. Turning right, in front of the Gizmo Shop, he headed down the alley towards the Dalmatians' house, and there he found his barking dog, along with the cause of her distress.

"What've you got there, girl?" he said softly, gently patting Perdita on the head as he knelt to inspect the unconscious man at her feet. After confirming that he was indeed still alive, Leon examined the stranger more thoroughly, checking him over for injuries that would make it too dangerous to move him without assistance. Though it was difficult in the dim light to assess the full extent of the damage, he had a couple of nasty slashes across his stomach, and the front of his clothing was soaked with blood. A ragged gash on the the top of his head had also bled profusely, staining a large section of his light-colored hair a rich, rusty brown, but unlike the wound on his stomach, it had already clotted over. And thankfully, nothing felt broken.

Leon pulled his last vial of potion from an inner pocket of his jacket and emptied its contents over the stranger's stomach, hoping it would be enough to at least slow down the bleeding. Then he wrapped the man's tattered red cape securely around his torso, tying the ends to hold the makeshift bandage in place. Unable to do anything more for the man until he could get him back to the house, Leon hurriedly moved the large sword lying next to him into the Dalmatians' house for safekeeping. Then he hoisted the stranger into his arms and, with a nod to Perdita, headed for home.

Always on the alert, his eyes automatically scanned the area for danger as his feet set a steady pace along the path traveled everyday for the last eight years, but the hush that still hung over the town made the trip home a quiet one; only once did he encounter a lone Shadow, which he promptly took out with a fire spell. It annoyed him to waste magic on such a weak foe, but with his arms full, it was easier than trying to maneuver his gunblade. With little else to engage his attention, it soon turned to the enigmatic stranger in his arms.

Though it was hard to guess the man's age through all the dried blood on his face, Leon could see that his features were delicate, and his lax, unguarded expression painted them with the impression of innocence and youth. Yet he was dressed like a seasoned warrior, and that huge sword, strangely swathed in strips of cloth, could hardly be wielded by a young boy. Even Leon had found it almost prohibitively heavy, and he couldn't imagine how the fragile-looking person in his arms would be able to even lift it. Still, looks could be deceiving, he noted with a grunt of exertion as he shifted the man's weight in his arms; he was considerably heavier than he looked – evidently more muscled than his slender frame would suggest.

As Leon was contemplating these inconsistencies, the man struggled against him with a strength that further belied his appearance. Even in his weakened state, he was unusually strong, and Leon had to hold on to him tightly, speaking soothing words to calm him. His eyes fluttered open briefly, and he moaned something that sounded like a name. Then just as suddenly, he settled back down, collapsing limply against Leon's chest.

The day – such as that was in Traverse Town – was just about to break as Leon threw open the door to his small home in Third District and called out to his housemates for help. He kicked the door shut behind him and then paused for a moment to assess the situation: The table in the living room was larger, but the lighting was better in the kitchen – plus it was close to the sink...

Coming swiftly to his decision, Leon carried the injured man into the kitchen, carefully cradling his body as he swept the table clear of place mats and papers. Then he gently laid his burden down, propping a chair beneath his knees to hold up his legs, which were hanging over the edge. By the time he had a large pot in the sink, filling with water, and the stove turned on high, the girls were stumbling and grumbling into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep out of complaining eyes. But when Aerith saw the man on the table, she came fully awake, eyes now wide with an odd mixture of joy and fear.

"Cloud!" she cried out, draping herself protectively over his battered body and surrounding him with her slender arms. Yuffie was right beside her, with one hand over her heart and the other one over her mouth, while Leon just stood there in stunned surprise as he realized who it was he had found.

All together they sprang into action, Yuffie grabbing washcloths and towels while Aerith gathered potions and medical supplies, and Leon began removing armor and boots and belts. Soon the water was boiling, and the washcloths were sterilizing; first aid stocks had been counted and checked, and Yuffie was on her way to First District for Cid and supplies.

Leon and Aerith worked together to remove the rest of Cloud's clothing, and when the cape came off and the wing came out, Aerith began to weep very softly, wondering what they had done to him now. Leon wondered briefly who they were before lightly tapping her on the arm to redirect her attention back to the task at hand, and they finished stripping Cloud down to his boxers. They were busy cleaning him up as well as they could, healing as they went with a combination of potions and spells, when Yuffie and Cid returned. Cid stormed in, outdoing even himself with the string of obscenities he flung towards his unconscious friend, but the deep concern in his voice was obvious. It was obvious how much they all cared, and Leon couldn't help but wonder if his own companions had cared that much for him...

He doubted it.

He wondered what was so special about the man before him that he should inspire such loyalty and love in his friends. He certainly didn't look like much of a hero, with his fragile-looking ribs and his pale, bruised skin.

Leon stopped his pointless pondering and reached for the small box containing his suturing supplies. Though their examination had confirmed that, miraculously, no bones were broken, Cloud's torso was covered with deep, angry bruises, and the two slashes on his stomach weren't responding well to healing. Even Aerith's strongest curaga spells had done little, and Leon could see that she was running out of magic. He also knew, though Aerith would never admit it, that she wasn't overly fond of needles, preferring to rely on her magical powers whenever possible, and he suspected that it would be even worse, being Cloud. And so, as he did with so many things – without being asked – Leon took the unpleasant task upon himself and set about sewing the man back together.

Thankfully, Cloud remained unconscious throughout most of their ministrations, waking only once while Leon was stitching the second cut, and it had taken Cid and Leon both to restrain him. Aerith tried to calm him, but her attempts only seemed to agitate him further. Deeply dilated eyes flew open, and he choked out, "Aeris? Am I dead?"

Leon noted the confused, almost panicked look on Cloud's face and the troubled look on Aerith's as she gently told him no, but Cloud struggled even harder to get up, as if he didn't believe her. Leon moved over him more forcefully then, pinning Cloud's shoulders to the table and holding his frantic eyes with his own, steadier gaze. "You have to be still," he commanded in his calm, deep voice, and surprisingly, Cloud obeyed. He soon sank back into unconsciousness, and Leon finished sewing him up.

By the time he had tied the last suture, they were all exhausted and hungry – it was almost time for lunch, and they hadn't even had breakfast. So Cid and Yuffie left to get take-out from the diner while Leon put away the supplies, and Aerith attempted to rinse some of the blood out of Cloud's hair. Then – without Aerith even having to ask – Leon carried Cloud to his room and settled him into his bed.

They had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when Yuffie and Cid returned with the food, and the four companions ate in silence, all thoughts on the man asleep in Leon's room. It was Yuffie who finally voiced what was on everyone's mind, directing her question to Aerith. "Is Cloud gonna be okay?"

"Well ... he's lost a lot of blood," Aerith answered hesitantly, pulling herself from her own thoughts as she turned towards the younger girl. "It will probably take him a while to fully recover." Seeing Yuffie's face grow even more worried at her less than encouraging words, Aerith patted her on the hand and continued with more confidence. "But Cloud is strong, and the Jenova cells won't let him die that easily."

Reassured a little by Aerith's answer, Yuffie began another question, but faltered before finishing. "Those slashes ... are they ... ?"

"...from the Masamune?" Aerith finished for her, speaking aloud the words that Yuffie had swallowed. "I suspect so."

"Then that means that fuckin' son of a goddamned bitch is back," Cid contributed.

"Probably," Aerith agreed, thinking that, for once, Cid's colorful description was actually rather accurate and to the point. "But I don't think he's here." She paused for a moment, contemplating something which she chose not to share, and then offered a weak smile instead. "Maybe Cloud will be able to tell us when he wakes up."

"Or maybe not," said Cid.

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They all hung around the house for the rest of the day, none of them willing to leave for long. Cid left just long enough to hang a closed sign on his shop door, which, in his haste, he had forgotten to do earlier, and Yuffie went with him to pick up a movie from the video store on the way back. Later on in the afternoon, Leon left for a little while to make a quick run through town, dispatching a few Heartless and working off some tension. Aerith never left Cloud's side.

As it got later and later and still she showed no sign of moving, Leon threw together a light dinner and had to drag her to the table, where she hastily swallowed a few bites while Yuffie took over her bedside watch. Then she returned to Cloud's side and remained there for the rest of the night. Cid and Yuffie watched the comedy Yuffie had rented, but neither one of them laughed, and Leon attempted to read, but couldn't keep his mind from wandering. Lost in their own thoughts, no one had much to say; even Yuffie was quiet. Late into the night, Cid went home at last, and Yuffie crawled off to bed, but still Aerith refused to leave Cloud's side. Leon turned off the lights and settled down on the couch.

It had been a long, tiring day, but even so, he couldn't sleep. His head was pounding, and his mind wouldn't stop digging through all of the information it had accumulated over the past year about Cloud and his world. Frankly, he hadn't paid that much attention to the three refugees from Gaia when they talked about their world, but he suddenly found himself very interested.

He knew the basics of their tale – the tale which had brought the unlikely group together – and he knew a lot of the names, but he couldn't find the one he was seeking: Jenova. He wasn't even sure if he was searching for a person or a plant or a thing, but whatever it was, Cloud evidently had its cells in his body, and they were helping to keep him alive.

Leon knew about Avalanche and its members, and that Cloud had been their leader. He'd heard of Shin-Ra and Sephiroth, and the ex-SOLDIER's struggle against them. He was familiar with Midgar and Mako and Meteor. He'd even heard of the Masamune. But there was nothing about Jenova.

The Masamune. That bought up another question for which Leon had no answer. It was obvious they had been speaking earlier of Sephiroth, but Leon had understood that he was dead. They had killed him; Cloud had killed him. How could he be back?

And something was bothering Aerith. She had been anxious and distracted all day, and Leon didn't think it was merely her concern for Cloud that was making her nervous.

With all of these questions still swirling in his head, Leon felt his eyelids grow heavy at last, and he fell into an uneasy sleep. When he woke in the early morning hours, as he so often did, his head was still pounding, and he knew he hadn't slept for long.

He got up and went to the bathroom for some aspirin, and stopped by his bedroom on the way back to check on Aerith and Cloud, finding her asleep in the chair with her head on the bed. He gently roused her and ordered her to her own bed, promising to come get her if there were any change in Cloud. Then he settled himself in the vacated chair and opened his book, but couldn't stay focused for long. By the third page, he gave up and put the book down, allowing his attention to go where it wanted: to the man asleep in his bed.

Cloud hadn't moved a muscle from the position in which Leon had laid him down – on his back with his arms at his sides and one leg bent outward, his head turned slightly to the side. Leon leaned in closer and studied him intently, taking in every detail like the well-trained SeeD he was.

Cloud's face was pale but peaceful, his skin almost flawless with the faintest dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the ridge of his cheeks, not even discernible except from up close. His features were also close to perfection, fair and delicate every bit of him, from his pale brows and lashes to his refined cheekbones, down the graceful slope of his nose and over full yet dainty lips to the sharply cut chin. Leon had never seen a face quite so perfect, exquisite ... like a finely crafted doll.

He knew he shouldn't be using such feminine words to describe the man – the SOLDIER – suspecting that Cloud wouldn't like it any more than Leon had liked being called 'pretty' back at Garden, but it just couldn't be helped; Cloud Strife was beautiful.

Leon's eyes traveled down the slender curve of Cloud's neck, lingering on the fragile-looking collarbone before straying back to his face, following the clean line of his jaw up to the small earring in his left ear and then diving into the wild mass of hair. Though dirty and dull, and still matted with blood, it was clearly a very light blond, and Leon wondered what color his eyes were. He knew they were blue – he'd certainly heard Aerith's description of the man enough times – but what shade? A grey-blue like his? Or a bright blue like Sora's? They had been too dilated to tell when he opened them earlier.

Leon sat for a long time just watching Cloud breathe, so shallow and slow that Leon could barely detect the rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin blanket covering his body. For a moment, he feared that Cloud wasn't breathing at all and reached out to touch his slightly parted lips, the warm breath on his fingertips startling him from his trance. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly pulled his hand away and glanced at the door, afraid of finding Aerith there watching, but of course she wasn't.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Leon stood up and gently pulled the covers away from Cloud's too thin, but well-formed body. His wing was folded under his back and beneath his left arm, and Leon wondered if it was comfortable like that, but had no idea what else to do with a wing. He lightly ran a fingertip along its outer edge; it was soft and leathery, like his old jacket had been, and surprisingly warm.

Again he pulled his hand away and reached to the nightstand instead, getting a cotton ball from the glass jar and the vial of potion beside it. After saturating the cotton ball with the healing liquid, he carefully dabbed the two sutured slashes across Cloud's stomach. They were an angry red, but they were clean and showed no further sign of infection.

His attention was then drawn to the faded scar just above the fresh wounds, and he wondered if it too had been caused by the Masamune, for it appeared to have been made with a very thin blade, and he knew that magically healed wounds usually left no scar. He also knew that there was a matching mark on Cloud's back where the steel had exited his body; he had seen it earlier when they were checking his back for injuries.

The man had been skewered; half an inch higher and it would have been straight through the heart.

No, not the man, for the scar was quite old. He must have been but a boy at the time.

Leon stood for a long moment just staring down at the younger man, discomfited by the foreign fascination he felt for this stranger in his bed. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was missing – something important, right here in front of him – but he refused to put his finger on it.

He gently replaced the covers around Cloud's body and then settled back in the chair, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Soothed by the sound of Cloud's soft breathing, he gradually matched its rhythm with that of his own