Set Against the Grain
Drabbles following the exploits of Zack and Cloud, via Final Fantasy VII/Crisis Core.
--4--
Sometimes, when he let himself sleep for longer than mere moments at a time, Cloud would dream. Dreams full of color and voices and sky. His eyes would burn when they finally opened, unexplainable peace settling in his limbs. But the deep ache reverberating in his spirit still remained. He would hope for the dreams to return, but would stop—unwilling to succumb to the actual hopelessness the dreams would instill. Even after weeks of mostly sleeping on and off throughout the nights while he stared sightlessly into the darkness that had edged itself into his consciousness, he still would not dream. It was only when his body caved in on itself and pulled him under that he would fall into the images and scenarios he tried vainly to ignore.
But he was not dreaming now.
Oftentimes, his dreams would consist of what-ifs and if-onlys. What if Aerith hadn't been alone when Sephiroth found her? If only Cloud had been awake when Zack spent his last moments fighting for their lives. If only Cloud had been strong enough to destroy Sephiroth that day at the reactor, and saved all of their lives. What if he had never joined Shinra?
The only time he ever saw Zack was in his dreams. He could never explain his dreams, and they were always different. Sometimes he relived memories, of which were either Zack's or his, he hadn't figured out yet. Sometimes it was like he almost talked to his best friend. Like they weren't both dead.
Because Cloud was dead. At least, that was the only way he could explain it. The darkness that had seeped into his soul when he wasn't looking. The apathy that clawed at his emotions and begged him to just end it all.
Dead. Just like his best friend.
"Reno said I'd find you here."
Rufus Shinra. Back when Cloud was a cadet, he hadn't had the pleasure of knowing the other blond man, though his ambitions weren't aimed close enough to provide an encounter. And Cloud often wondered what the young executive had been like back then, before Sephiroth's rampage. Before they all changed.
"Though why he'd be right, I'm not sure. If anything, he's the most unreliable employee I have."
Cloud didn't have to turn to know the other man was standing right next to him. From his position lying across one of the pews in the almost completely destroyed sanctuary, he could see straight through the broken ceiling and into the gray sky beyond. The polluted atmosphere above the plate. It was disgusting, just like everything else he was bound to encounter.
"When was the last time you had anything to eat?"
When was the last time Rufus Shinra actually cared about anyone other than himself?
Instead of answering him, Cloud tilted his head to the side. From this angle, he could see a single stream of sunlight pouring in from across the room. The sunlight, the flowers, the wooden beams of the broken church all knocked him slightly off-kilter. With time, he had imagined it would all come back to him, or at least it would ebb away and leave him in some form of peace. But images continued to assault him no matter how deeply they were buried. Images of defeat, images of death and decay. Aerith's body sinking like the dead weight it was down to the depths in the waters below. Zack's beaten body breathing its last. His own inability to recover most of his memories from before Sephiroth's breakdown.
He often wondered if the day would ever come when he would forget his best friend. Or if he would wake up one morning and Sephiroth's rampage hadn't really happened.
But what-ifs aren't meant for the here and now. And Cloud was tired of living in the past.
"Strife."
When he didn't answer, he felt Rufus settle down beside him on the pew. They weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances. At one time, they were enemies. Cloud didn't know what the hell they were anymore. Strangers, he'd guess. Though, he'd like to consider them still adversaries. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with the man's attempts at conversation. And if Rufus wasn't so damned reformed, as he'd like everyone to believe, Cloud wouldn't think twice before offing the executive. No ounce of guilt. The apathy was threatening to overwhelm him, and Cloud was hard-pressed not to ignore it.
"I've never been considered a benevolent man."
Rufus Shinra was not his father, but he unconsciously emulated him no matter how hard he tried not to live up to his father's destructive personality—greedy, sinister, and sordid. Cloud wasn't willing to play the man's games anymore.
"Why are you here," he uttered. His voice was raw from disuse but fully intentional and left no room for beating around the bush.
Instead of answering him directly, the senior Shinra executive placed an unlabeled manila envelope on the pew between them.
"As you know, the rebuilding of Midgar is nearing completion. Final repairs are being overseen and people are beginning to move back into the city," Rufus pointed out. He wasn't looking at the ex-mercenary, but his gaze was fixed upon the small garden thriving a few feet away. Several different colors of flowers flourished within the tall grass, providing an oasis from the darkness and shadows plaguing the beaten citadel.
Cloud didn't respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about just why Midgar needed repairing in the first place. More than anything, he wanted to be removed from the life he'd been handed. No matter how hard he fought, how many times he saved the planet, his life was still the same. He was still the same little boy—weak, alone, and broken. Over time, he outgrew his naïveté and his misguided need to serve Shinra, but he still ended up alone. Midgar was being renewed, and he was left in the dust. Savior, hero—he felt like a tool.
"I'm not asking you to do anything."
Rufus stood up from the bench, movement fluid and seamless, brushing himself off silently before looking up through the breach in the ceiling.
"You should really get that fixed."
With a final look in Cloud's direction, he turned and walked out of the church, his footsteps echoing long after he was gone.
When Cloud was sure the man wasn't going to return, he sat up from the bench and rubbed his face to fight back the exhaustion plaguing him. A long sigh pulled itself from his lungs before he reached over to take hold of the ominous envelope.
Nothing good ever came out of doing business with Rufus Shinra.
But as far as Cloud could remember, he was never in business with the man.
The paper package crinkled noisily in his hands as he opened the seal to reveal its contents. Tipping it carelessly, something weighted and silver fell into his left palm—a key. It had no etching at all, but the design was uncharacteristically ornate. Other than the unusual design, there was nothing especially characteristic about it, and it didn't offer any clues as to where it came from or where it was intended to be used. He wondered if it were some part of one of Rufus's twisted games. Cloud wouldn't put it past the man to send the ex-mercenary on a fruitless quest. Though Cloud never was one to play Rufus Shinra's games.
Feeling at a loss, he looked instead within the envelope again. A single white leaf of paper stared back at him innocently. Reaching within, he pulled it out and held it up next to the key.
Shinra Electric Power Company stationary signed and sealed.
Cloud would recognize the SEC emblem anywhere. It was forever etched into his memory, a piece of his past burned onto the back of his eyelids.
Reading over the short notice quickly and thoroughly, he closed his eyes thoughtfully. It was simple and very uncharacteristic of the man who had delivered it. Very uncharacteristic.
Suddenly, Rufus's words echoed in his mind: "I've never been considered a benevolent man."
Turning the key over and over again in the palm of his hand, Cloud studied the unfamiliar weight of it. It was larger than normal, but didn't look aged much at all. He wondered if Rufus had made a copy of it—actually, he bet the man probably did. It would be his way of staying on the offensive.
Standing hesitantly, the blond turned his gaze toward the doors at the back of the church. Though the immense building was crippled and dilapidated, the doors were still intact and they stood tall and proud almost.
Not that he always used the door. Memories of his first encounter with the structure and the young woman within brought his eyes back to the front of the church where the altar of flowers thrived voraciously in the little sunlight pouring in through the opening above. Fixing the hole was the practical solution, but so much relied on its presence that he was unsure exactly what he ought to do. The garden was the only part of Aerith he had left. The only thing that brought welcome memories of her to his mind. If it weren't for the colorful display of life struggling so desperately to grow amidst the pollution and poverty under the plate, his memories of her would be forever paused on the moment Sephiroth took it away from her. Her life. Her garden.
Resolutely, Cloud folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. With the key in his hand, he made his way out of the church, stepping outside into the muggy daylight beyond its doors. He hadn't been outside in days. The surrounding buildings were in various states of repair and the crowd was more populated than usual. It was almost as if the city had life again.
Turning, he placed the key into the lock in the church door. He'd be back soon.
