Infected

They waited until the gunfire had died, or moved out of their hearing range before taking off across the open ground towards the cliffs where they'd last seen the majority of survivors heading. It was dim, near dark but not quite, and that helped for cover as the two darted across the dusty ground.

Denzel was uneasy running across that open field, eyes darting around wildly. It was too quiet, for the battle remnants that were left. The remains of the truck he'd been in was still smoking.

Still, they both figured they might as well make a run for it now. They couldn't stay hidden in the rocks forever. Even with that thought, there was no guarantee that the survivors would still be in the cliffs where they'd last saw them. If Denzel had calculated it right, they were closer to Midgar than Edge. All that stood between the two cities was the desert. It was either take the shorter route back to the enemy infested ruins of Midgar, or take the longer route to try and make it to Edge, which was undoubtedly riddled with plenty of enemy snipers.

Denzel sighed as they reached the cover of the cliffs, tracks of their previous inhabitants scattered amongst the dust. They might help Denzel and Marcus to find the squad sooner, but eventually they'd disappear whether it be by natural causes, or camouflaging their movements.

Marcus knelt near the tracks, studying them for a moment before sighing, and standing.

"We should move," he stated.

Denzel nodded behind him, a habit he'd picked up from Cloud. He let Marcus lead the way. It was smarter to move in the night, with the cover of darkness, and the sun not baking the ground before them, and their backs.

Marcus seemed to have better night vision than Denzel, and kept to the front. Neither of them felt it a good idea to light a torch or get out a flashlight. Luck was with them, though; with the moon nearly full, it was easy to see their feet.

Marcus pulled himself over another ledge, keeping the canyon that the convoy had passed through to his left. According to the tracks they were following, the group was heading towards Edge.

"We might be able to catch up with them, if we continue walking on into the day, or unless they stopped," Marcus stated.

Denzel stumbled, his foot catching a rock on the ledge. His left leg flared, and he winced, white light reaching him behind his closed eyelids.

Marcus paused, glancing back at his silent companion. He was leaned over, his hands gripping his left leg, breathing deeply.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Denzel forced out, "Just an old wound giving me a little trouble...that's all."

Marcus tilted his head slightly, "We can take a break if you need–

"No, it's fine," Denzel said straightening slowly, "See, I'm fine," he held out his hands to indicate it.

Marcus studied him for a moment longer, "Alright, but if you need to rest, just let me know."

"Will do," Denzel replied, as Marcus turned to continue on.

"Ah..." Tifa hissed slightly through clenched teeth.

"You okay, Tifa?" Denzel asked from his seat at the table.

Tifa glanced up from her place at the stove, "Yeah, just burned my hand...that's all."

She moved quickly to the sink, her stomach looking like it was ready to pop. Denzel couldn't believe she still wasn't due for another three weeks. She looked like she could explode any minute.

Denzel stood, "Let me help you Tifa."

Tifa laughed, waving a hand at him, "I'm feeling good today, Denz...let me do something while I can!"

Denzel smiled softly before moving to stand by her as she fixed herself a drink of water.

Tifa grinned again, "Such a gentleman, Denzel! What would I do without you? With Mr. Chocobohead upstairs."

Denzel smiled, beginning to speak before a strangled cry reached his ears.

Tifa dropped the glass she was holding, it shattered on impact, tiny bits of glass skittering across their feet.

"Cloud?!" her voice was panicked, as she went to take a step.

Denzel reached out, stopping her, "Tifa! You don't have any shoes on."

Her hands gripped his arms tightly, and Denzel winced, forgetting how she strong she was.

"Cloud!" her voice raised an octave, shrill.

Why wasn't he answering?

"Denzel? Denzel!" Marcus was at the boy's side in a second.

"I'm...I'm fine," he hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah, right. Where's that wound of yours?" Marcus asked.

He reached down, pulling at the pants leg to Denzel's uniform.

"It isn't a big deal, I swear! Just...just some shrapnel! I could still fight–

"Shut up," he said, as he rolled up Denzel's pants' leg.

Denzel clamped his mouth shut, another pain shooting though his leg, as Marcus began to unwind the bandage.

"It wasn't bleeding earlier, was it?" he asked, not looking up.

Denzel shook his head, sweat flinging off his matted hair, "No."

"It's reopened then," Marcus replied, pulling up the bloodied bandages to show him.

"I didn't...realize..."

"Old wound my ass," Marcus growled as he finally freed it, "I've got some clean–

Marcus clamped his mouth shut, staring at the wound.

"What?" Denzel asked, almost afraid to look.

"N-nothing, it's nothing," Marcus said, standing to grab his pack up.

"What?" Denzel asked, shifting to look at the wound.

Marcus reached out, clamping down hard on his leg, his other hand digging through his pack.

"It's fine...well, as fine as an open wound can be–

"It's infected, isn't it? They were pressed for materials back at the hospital..." Denzel stated.

Marcus looked up, gravely serious, "I don't have anything to help it, Denzel."

Denzel swallowed, turning his leg slightly to gaze at his infected leg. It was bleeding, but black, yellowish skin surround the wound, pus forming around the edges. He swallowed.

Marcus began to wrap his leg deftly, "We need to catch up with the group."

"Yeah," Denzel stated.

"...I-I can't do anything for it, Denz...I'm sorry," Marcus replied, finishing with the bandages.

"It's fine. It isn't your fault."

Marcus looked up at Denzel, "Can you stand?"

Denzel smiled, "Sure...this break was all I needed."

Denzel followed the trail of bloody, wet footprints up the steps towards Cloud and Tifa's room, little bits of glass littering the way.

His own shoes were coated in a thin layer of water, resulting from Tifa's accident. He swallowed, as he came into the room, Tifa already on the floor, kneeling beside of Cloud.

Denzel froze.

Cloud was laying on his side, gripping his left arm with his right, shaking violently. Tifa knelt beside of him with some difficulty, trying to calm Cloud or wake him. His eyes were rolled up into the back of his head, a bit of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth.

"Cloud!" Tifa breath was heavy, and she squeezed Cloud's arm, before seeing Denzel frozen at the doorway.

She swallowed, "Get..get a cold towel..."

Denzel returned in a moment, handing the towel to her, and she went to dabbing Cloud's forehead with it. Denzel grabbed a pillow from the bed, placing it beneath his head. Cloud was still trembling.

"I-I think...I think it's seizure...it'll pass...it'll pass..." she repeated to herself, whispering it over and over.

Denzel stood wide-eyed by her, as she tried to reach out to Cloud.

"C-Call Barret..." Tifa said softly.

Denzel didn't hear her.

"Denzel!" she snapped.

He jumped, looking at her.

"Call Barret, please."

Denzel nodded once, moving from the room, opting for the phone downstairs. Tifa didn't question this. Just as he moved from the doorway, he heard a large gasp, and a heave of breath.

"Cloud?" Tifa asked softly.

Denzel turned, peering back into the bedroom slowly.

Cloud was still on the floor, Tifa looking down at him, but his eyes were open, and staring back at Tifa. He was still breathing heavy, a thin sheet of sweat forming over his brow.

"Cloud?" she asked, and he swallowed.

His voice cracked once as he replied, "I'm fine...I'm okay."

"No," Tifa shook her head quickly, "No you're not."

"I'm fine, Tifa. You shouldn't be on the floor–

"What was that, Cloud? What was it?"

"It's fine–

"No! It isn't–

"It was a seizure, Tifa...I'm okay, I swear."

Tifa shook her head again, opening her mouth once, and closing it again before speaking, "W-why? What's...what's wrong with you? We don't even know what happened!"

"...I've been to Reeve–

"This has happened before?" she asked, hurt.

Cloud swallowed, "A couple times...it isn't often...it's just an after effect of Mako and...the cells."

"You knew about this?"

"Yes, I did."

"Cloud! What if this would've happened when you were driving?! Or-or when you were fighting? You could be seriously hurt...or worse..."

"It's nothing serious, it's just...a small price I have to pay."

Tifa's arms fell away from Cloud, her hands landing limply on the floor beside her.

Tears filled her voice as she muttered, "After all this...everything, they still won't...just go away," she finished in a whisper.

"I'm okay, Tifa...I'm okay," he moved to reach out from her.

"No!" she batted his hands away, "No! You aren't okay, Cloud! You aren't okay! This isn't okay! You laying on the floor...just...laying there, and I couldn't do anything! That isn't okay!"

"Tifa–

She stood quickly, forgetting about her feet, and winced as the glass dug back into her flesh.

She gave a little cry, before losing her balance and stumbling to the left, falling.

"Tifa!"

Cloud reached out, his right hand just barely snagging her left hip, pulling her towards him, and falling onto his side once again.

Tifa's knees hit the floor, and she fell against Cloud's side, her belly bouncing dangerously.

Cloud pulled her into his arms, as she flat out bawled, fighting it but not at the same time.

Denzel watched in silence, watched as Cloud glanced up once, a dark look on his face as Tifa cried on his shoulder.

Denzel couldn't help but feel that wasn't all of the story.