AN: italics are dreams…

10 months prior to the events of Advent Children

It was the taste of ash. He is standing in a street, empty, the weather charged and electric. In an instant Cloud is reminded of the dirtier side of Midgar. The houses ravaged by arson, covered in a fine layer of soot. He can see himself, resting a cheek alongside a wall, the rough texture scratching smooth skin. He is licking the bricks, sliding a tongue through the filth. He wonders now if his tongue is blackened by Vincent. His teeth crunch against the mortar as he widens his mouth, jaw dropping further. He should be choking; he wants to push through wall. Both lips are torn now and the blood is coming between Cloud and the filth. He wishes –with a feeling of loneliness- that he had been born from this dirt and soot, rather than the blood and flesh he feels trapped in. The sky is darkening in the wake of the unnatural storms which seem to birth themselves in times of strife. In his mind, he is crazed, eyes shining green as he buries his face into the wall. His hands grip into the grooves of the structure as he is lost in a frenzy, wiping his face into the velvet of the ash as the storm rages around him. His hair is darkening, his face is black. His tongue brushes along his teeth, the last of the white, glistening madly with mako eyes. Like an animal, he is rutting against the wall while his ears are beaten by the winds gone wild. Inside he howls, or is he screaming now? Pushing off the wall and straining his mouth, his voice escaping as he falls to his knees. Panting, beyond reason, he lifts his hands wide to his eyes. His fingers are bruised and blackened, and he reaches forward like a starving beggar, his tongue unfolding, licking each finger, consumed again in crazed cycle.

Cloud had split into two. By day, like a statue he was cold, unmoving and unreachable. Even the bitterness in his eyes had withered and died, leaving something not quite alive. Every move was mechanical, functioning at a minimum. Every task was restrained, his eyes vacant and hollow. He didn't notice the reactions he stimulated in passers by as they witnessed the actions of the catatonic man. The weeks went by in a haze, a blur of repeated days that fell through his frozen hands.

But by night, Cloud's mind came alive with vivid dreams that scarred the flesh of his eyelids as he clutched at the feeble, delicate line between dreams and waking. The nightmares and lucid seductions felt more like reality than anything he had experienced. They swirled in the dark corners of unconsciousness, assaulting him with intense sensations. The shocks he received would send him waking suddenly, upright in his bed, muscles tense; rivulets of sweat pouring down his naked chest.

Vincent hadn't returned and the increasing silence left Cloud feeling helplessly lonely. Their…encounter… had shattered the protective aura of the church, the long stretches of sleeplessness leaving him open to the shameful guilt he ignored by day. He had used Vincent, used his help and his body and what was worse was they both knew it. He knew why he had done it, the desperation he had felt and the yearning for physical attention. What he couldn't understand, was how Vincent had let himself be used, had given in and allowed himself to become a distraction from the pain. Cloud was unsure of if Vincent knew it was because he reminded him of Zack. He doubted it; they were so unalike in almost everyway… except the hair… the strength of their bodies…the tantalizing warmth. It didn't matter though, to what degree Vincent understood, because he still knew that Cloud had simply taken what was available. But Vincent had given back. He had pushed himself against the smaller man, had seized hold of his mouth in fierce dominance. Cloud felt as if he his very soul had been devoured. Unconsciously in the dark, Cloud often touched his lips, remembering the heat, the amazing warmth that had spread throughout his entire body. The dreams he had reminded him of Vincent too, the dark lust and taste of fire. As they faded, he would find himself yearning for Vincent, his body feeling hollow and cold.

***

The sun had risen high across Midgar, the day stifling hot and pulsing as the ground burnt beneath a cloudless sky. The wreckage of the slums absorbed the heat menacingly as large pieces of metal shrapnel reflected the sun in random beams of light. The overall effect was dazzling as the horizon became a mirage, as a faint buzzing sound kept coming in and out of range. Cloud licked his lips as he shielded his face from the sun. It was supposedly a day off and unwilling to be left at the mercy of the weather while in the treacherously dry plains, Cloud drifted aimlessly through the ruins near the church. The plan turned sour when he had collapsed helplessly into a pile of timber as his arm seared in ridiculous pain. The spasms were becoming more and more frequent, the nausea and dizziness, the sensation as if his skin was melting away. At first he had planned to return to the church, but the idea of spending more time in a place that made him think of Vincent seemed out of the question. For a moment he mused over the idea of visiting Tifa and it surprised him incredibly, that he would actively seek someone out. The conflicting desires left him confused and weary of being in a constant state of indecisiveness, so he trudged on with no direction in mind, letting his feet decided his course.

He's achieved at least an hour or so of little brain activity, when laying in the dirt ahead a bundle of rags cought his attention. The breeze tangled in the layers of cloth and lifted it high, revealing a patch of skin. Cloud ran closer, seeing the bundle now for what it really was; the collapsed figure of child. He knelt in the dirt, movements hurried as with one hand he felt for a pulse, the other fumbling for his phone. He cursed softly as he found his pockets bare then cursed again –this time thankfully- as he felt a light beating under his fingertips. He looked at the child closer now, a young boy –slightly older than Marlene he noted- with thick, messy brown hair. His face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were torn and mismatched, a familiar look of the orphans that littered the streets. Cloud picked the boy up, frowning at the sheer weightlessness as he held him to his chest. He heard a thud and looked down to find his phone in the dirt. He shoved it hastily into his pocket, uncaring as to how it came to be with the boy, running in the direction of his Fenrir.

***

Cloud burst into Seventh Heaven, receiving looks from the few regular customers who were using the bar as an escape from the midday heat. He made his way quickly to the bar, still carrying the boy in his arms as Tifa came into view, her face already seeming distraught before she saw him.

"Cloud? What's going on, who's-" she stopped when she saw the expression on Cloud's face, nodding quickly and heading for the stairs.

Cloud followed, ignoring the faces peering at him curiously as he and Tifa went into the nearest room of the second floor.

He carefully deposited the boy on the bed, stepping back as Tifa placed her hand on the boy's forehead.

"Go get water" he left silently as she bent further over the child, inspecting the dark bruises on his head that Cloud handn't noticed on the journey there.

He returned quickly to find Tifa with her back to him, her hand cupping the child's face, thumb sliding in slow soothing motions.

She shifted slightly as Cloud placed the water beside the table, her hair falling like a curtain over her face.

"What happened?"

"I found him in the slums. He was like that when I found him… I didn't know where to take him. If I brought him to a doctor, they would have let him… let him die or…" he trailed off, Tifa's demeanour making him defensive.

"How did he have your phone?"

"How did you know?"

"Because he called me!" her voice broke a little, distraught and shaky "he called, and I though it was you and all I could hear was crying. I thought some kid must have found you, that something awful had happened. And then he hung up and I didn't know what to do and you didn't answer back. I was worried sick. And then you bring this child. What am I supposed to do?" Her hands gripped the blankets of the bed tightly and Cloud's face flushed with shame.

"I didn't mean to burden you. You don't have to take him-"

"Of course I'm going to take him!" she snapped, sounding horrified and angry and bitter all at once "You don't expect me to just leave him alone? What I want you to do is tell me what happened"

"I don't, I don't know how-"

"It wasn't his fault" the voice was feeble, scared and hoarse. Tifa and Cloud turned to see the boy struggling to sit up, his eyes wide and pleading.

"It was me. I'm sorry... I didn't know what to do… I didn't know and I'm...I'm..." he coughed, his words tumbling out in a confused stream of apologies and Tifa passed him the cup of water, squeezing his knee encouragingly as he drank and then patting him on the back as he choked from drinking too fast.

"I found it on the ground. I wanted someone to help me. Everybody else left. They all left and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to scare anyone; I just wanted someone to help me. I was afraid. I… wasn't stealing it. I found it. I'm sorry…" Tifa shushed him quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and smiling warmly.

"It's okay. We're not mad at you. We were just worried. It's Cloud's fault for losing his phone, and you found it for him. You're okay now. That's all that matters." She ruffled his hair affectionately and pulled the blankets back over him.

"I'm Tifa. That's Cloud. What's your name?"

The boy smiled at both of them, leaning back into the pillow and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"Denzel. I'm Denzel."

"Well Denzel, I think you need to get some sleep. I always feel better when I'm rested. So how about we leave you to rest for a bit, and I'll bring you up some dinner in a couple of hours?"

His smile became shy and Cloud noted warmly the slight blush that had fluttered across his cheeks, his eyes affectionate as he looked up at Tifa.

"Sounds… good"

"Okay then." Tifa stood up, walking towards the door and pushing Cloud out with her.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs Tifa grabbed Cloud's arm, her face furious as he made to leave.

"Where are you going?" she hissed angrily as she tried to whisper.

"I have to go… thankyou. I didn't mean to trouble you, but... I have to…"

"Unbelievable, you're leaving me here with this boy who probably doesn't have a home to go to and who we know nothing about."

He pulled away sharply, moving quickly to the door before she had the chance to stop him.

"I'll come back, I promise."

***

"I saved someone today"

The wind whipped at his hair as Cloud sat by the edge of the cliff. The plains stretched on in front of him but Cloud kept his eyes on the Buster Sword embedded in the ground, reaching out towards the sky. The growing rust seemed painfully fitting, a reminder of how long it had been since he put it in the ground.

"But I think… I think it's too late me for. Something's happening to me… and I don't know if I want to fight it."

He stopped talking, there didn't seem to be any reason to anymore. When he closed his eyes he could feel a presence, one that didn't need words. He would have to go back, sort things out with Tifa, but for now –while he was still strong enough- he wanted to remain on the cliff, remembering Zack.