Never Lost
By: Phoenix Dayze
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. Please don't hurt me.
The sting of the whip was more than enough to remind Zack who was in control, and he bit back a growl as blood seeped down his tortured back. He'd stopped fighting them weeks ago, hoping to make his burden a little easier to bear, but since then, they'd taken to beating him for amusement alone. Ever since the Wutai had captured him, Zack had been forced to work as a slave in their war camps, doing anything they deemed necessary for him to do. He could have escaped, probably taken out most of them on the way, but he didn't have the will to return home and see if the nightmare that had been plaguing him this past year was the reality he feared it to be.
He didn't remember much from that day; left most of his memories of it on the battlefield with his comrades, and what he did remember was eerily real, flashes of tormenting truth, haunting in its intensity. A slice of silver. Green eyes dim with burning pain. Bright, insistent blood that coated his hands like gloves. A slender finger that caressed his cheek. Words too long unuttered. "I love you." A fading friend. Helplessness like nothing he'd ever felt. Harsh, crushing, splintering pain. Sephiroth was dead. In his heart, Zack knew this, but he refused to admit it to his waking mind. Only in sleep did the truth force itself upon him, when he was weak and weaponless. He didn't sleep much.
Sweat trickled down his back; the myriad of cuts stinging from the salt. He pushed his damp hair from his eyes as he looked to the horizon. Soon it would be nightfall. Soon he would get a reprieve from today, and be tethered back to his post to await tomorrow.
Zack heard the cries before his eyes found the source. A small body lay curled up beneath an onslaught built for giants. The boy's captors were apparently intent on flaying him alive with little more than blunt clubs to aid the process. Zack winced at the suffering he knew the young man must have been enduring. Silently he cursed the Wutai bastard's cruelty. He stood still, compliant, as his master tied him to his post, staring at the boy, who lay bleeding not five feet away. Another victim of war. Another innocent destroyed by this hated land. As he took in the irreparable damage of the boy's back, Zack felt the old hatred boil up, along with the old strength, the old, long-buried urge to control his world and make things be as they should. He tampered it down. With Sephiroth gone, there was nothing else to live for, no reason for more people to die, not even in Wutai.
Slowly, the boy stirred, whimpering as quietly as possible as he tried to maneuver his body into a less painful position. As he turned, Zack could make out the boy's blond hair in the darkness. It was dirty and matted with blood, and hung down over eyes so blue that even the night couldn't hide them. Zack had to swallow back a gasp as he took in the boy's apparent youth. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. Zack shook his head. Far too young to be in a place like this. Far too young for it to already be over.
Wide, innocent eyes caught his gaze and peered up at him through pain-crazed blue. Hope and fear mingled in the boy's visage, a trembling smile playing hide and seek across his tear-streaked face. His voice was little more than a soft coo; so fragile that Zack thought it might break if he listened too hard. "You're a SOLDIER, aren't you?"
Of all the things Zack might have expected this boy to say, this was the last. He stared, his shock evident. Then he nodded solemnly. "I used to be." He said quietly.
The boy seemed to light up a bit at this, and Zack's heart ached at the evidence of such a simple pleasure. This boy really was far too young. "I wanted to be a SOLDIER too." The boy continued. "But now…" He gave Zack a look full of sorrow. "I don't either of us will be SOLDIERs now."
Zack had the overwhelming need to comfort the kid, so he smiled as reassuringly as he could. "Maybe one day you will. You'll get stronger as you grow."
"No." The boy interrupted him. "I'll never grow up." He returned Zack's smile with a mature understanding than no child should have bore on his countenance. "I'm going to die here."
The sheer, matter-of-fact hopelessness in the boy's words hurt Zack in a way he hadn't felt since coming here. Why should this boy have to be so certain of his demise? Where had all the trust and beliefs of youth gone? What suffering had stolen them away? An aching sadness filled the blank void in his chest. Tears pricked at eyes that had gone dry a long time ago. "What's your name, kid?"
"Cloud Strife."
"Well, Cloud Strife," Zack said firmly. "I'm going to get you out of here and see to it that you grow up. And maybe even be a SOLDIER one day."
A small light flamed in Cloud's eyes. "You promise?"
Zack nodded. "I promise."
Tbc…