Chapter Three: Engine

The morning dawned far sooner than he would have liked.

Rolling out of his cot at Leon's barking command, he felt more than heard the sharp cracking under his foot accompanied by a sad, almost mournful whistle of the dying. He did his best not to cry out as metal and plastic dug into his bare foot, but someone beat him to it.

"My train!" Came the high-pitched shriek from the next bed over. A young woman in a yellow nightdress shoved him back as she fell to the floor, frantically pulling together the shattered pieces of what may have once been an antique locomotive.

He rubbed his head ruefully from where it had rebounded against the wall. His blood was dripping. Small crimson rivulets running down his ankle and onto the floor. But she was crying over her train. A train. He let his head fall back against the plaster.

Cloud took a deep breath. Swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry for stepping on your train."

"You owe me a new one." She replied, scrubbing her cheeks. "This one was a present."

He nodded eyes still closed as he stilled his patience, somehow not quite surprised that it had been that simple. The others in the room were still moving about as though nothing had happened.

"Selphie, move out." The brunette yelped, clutching her broken toy to her chest as she scurried back to her cot to quickly finish dressing. Leon knelt beside the blonde's bunk prodding his foot with a clipboard. "Always look before you step."

"Sorry, Sir." He gritted out reluctantly. How was he to know that the floor would be a labyrinth of train tracks when he woke up? This was a military base, or at least he thought it was. Since when had protocol allowed that?

The scarred man grunted softly. "…Leon."

Cloud just gave him a blank stare.

And hissed when the other man grabbed his foot, twisting it to get a better view of the damage. One of the shards that had lodged itself in his flesh was pulled clear.

"You won't be very effective training this morning. Report to the infirmary to get this looked at, and then the General would like to have a word with you." Succinct and terse; this man had a wonderful beside manner, Cloud thought dryly. "Can you make it there yourself, or should I call Yuffie to escort you?"

He waved off the question, pushing off from the cot and grabbing his boot. Was that a model bank near his bedpost? He caught sight of small plastic legs tied to the tracks as they disappeared under the cot and wondered momentarily where the rest of the body was.

The man stood silently watching him.

"What." He snapped as he rustled through his new lockers for his shirt. "Trying to decide if I can be trusted on my own?"

"…Your file is surprisingly empty." Leon crossed his arms, leaning against the bedpost, "Any idea why that might be?"

Empty. Cloud had known it was only a matter of time before the other man had caught on to the fact that his history stopped exactly five years ago. No hometown. No relatives. No medical reports. Nothing. One of the reasons he couldn't be a real soldier. "No."

Everyone had their secrets.

Leon watched him a moment longer before silently disappearing from the barracks, presumably to oversee the rest of the training while Cloud found his own medical attention.

…

Remembering his way back to the sickbay was easier than he had hoped, especially after he had found what he assumed was an old curtain rod shoved under Valentine's bunk. What it had been doing there in the first place, he would probably never know, but it was remarkably helpful in keeping his weight off his injured limb, and it only bent slightly under his weight. He'd also found the body of the errant limbs there.

He wasn't at all surprised to find the same green-eyed nurse on duty as on his first day. The abundance of greenery in the room threw him off a bit though. He couldn't remember ever being in a hospital that more closely resembled a forest.

And those beautiful green eyes were staring at him curiously, if not a little worried, taking in the one boot dangling from his lax hand and the red stained foot twitching nervously just above her clean floors. She looked like she was torn between grabbing a mop or an officer.

"It's…alright." He tried to smile disarmingly, but failed considering he had never needed to use that expression before. It probably came out as more of a grimace when his foot grazed the ground. "Leon sent me here."

She frowned, quickly ducking under his arm and helping him to one of the white cots. "He sent you here alone? Like this? That man is insufferable."

"I think I might have stepped on something."

"An astute observation. We'll have you cleaned up and out of here soon. You're not due for a physical just yet." He had the sneaking suspicion she was trying to make a joke.

Cloud watched her long braid sway against her white coat as she rummaged about for supplies amongst the flower pots. There was the soft clinking of metal as her hands moved.

"He went off to train first, didn't he." She grabbed his foot angrily, eliciting a muted grunt from the blond. "Careful now, this will sting."

He clenched the sheets beneath him as she began prying the shards free with a pair of tweezers.

She held up what looked like a miniature cow catcher, examining it carefully. "Early steam engine; Eastern continent. I'm guessing Selphie had a hand in this."

"Short, brown hair, yellow dress?" He wriggled his toes experimentally, glancing up as her hand clamped down on his foot.

"Hold still, you might aggravate it yet. Will you…be alright if I disinfect it?"

She looked worried. Cloud couldn't say he blamed her. "I'll be fine. It…doesn't happen all that often."

She nodded firmly as though that was enough to trust him, and a damp cloth was pressed firmly against the torn flesh. Considering, he had expected it to hurt more than it did. Ah well, small blessings.

She must be used to dealing with neurotic patients.

"Is he having you back out on the field after this? If I bind it tightly enough, you should be alright."

"Have to report to the General before that." He tried to be useful while she began wrapping his foot, holding it at a better angle.

The hands paused in their work briefly before tying off the bandage. It was apparent then that she was studiously ignoring him as he carefully watched her face for a reaction. "…you should be fine now. It really wasn't as bad as it looked."

With the exception of Tifa last night, it had been a very long time since he had last dealt with women. Even so, it was quite clear to him that there was something that wasn't being said in their exchange, and even though he knew he had no authority to force a response, he couldn't help but be irritated.

"What is going on? Why is Sephiroth here? He was supposed to be dead." His fist collided with the wall, but the girl didn't seem very startled. If anything, it seemed like she had half expected an outburst.

"I don't know the answers to your questions." She was clearing away the mess, handing him his boot as she went. "I'm just a nurse."

That 'just a nurse' had the curtain rod crutch pressed firmly against his jugular when he sprang to his feet. He'd barely seen her move.

"I wasn't going to do anything." He said carefully, his eyes not leaving hers. "What kind of a nurse has a reaction speed like that?"

"One that works for this unit." She replied evenly before looking thoughtful. "…be careful. You may have some basic training physically, but that won't help you much against the General."

"What do you mean by that?"

She lowered the rod, waving off his question airily, the bangles at her wrist tinkling softly. "Just keep a close eye on what you agree to do, and don't turn your back on him."

…

Sora was warm. Warm was nice. Warm meant relative safety, comfort and less possibility of amputation to blackened and frost-bitten limbs. Warm reminded him of a distant place he could barely remember, where the waters were lucid and the colours were brilliant and captivating. The soft rise and fall of the solid warmth beneath his ear and the distinct rhythmic thud was reminiscent of the foaming waves against a wooden dock.

He wrinkled his nose as the sound of scritching pervaded his thoughts, cracking an eye open to find the source of the offending noise.

"You're loud, General." He nestled deeper against his firm pillow, the hands resting at his hips tightening slightly, holding him in place.

The sound paused.

Green eyes.

He liked seeing those eyes; they were fascinating in a completely different way than Riku's. Riku's eyes were warm, but hazy. Murky. The chemicals in his system had dulled them, and they swirled with blues like the ocean.

These eyes were intensely pure and clear.

…they were like the blue of the man they had just met.

And those green eyes glanced at his drowsy curious ones from under a cascade of white –grey?- hair. He liked to think of it as a waterfall. At least, it was what he assumed a waterfall would look like; pale and shiny, soft strands of water hanging over rocks. Yes, that would be a beautiful thing to see.

Riku was growing his own waterfall.

"If you wish to continue to slumber, I suggest you move elsewhere. I have work here to accomplish." The scritching continued.

This was among the few times Sora had awoken to anything other than white and bland, though he often woke curled around Riku.

"Are you willing to impart now why you deemed it necessary to leave your chambers, incapacitate three orderlies and assault your newest compatriot?" The General lowered the pen he had been using as he spoke. It was black ink. It was always black ink. The General never wrote with anything else. Sora wanted to see him use pink.

Just once.

"Leon told on us." Riku's voice sounded heavier than when he was awake. Fully awake. Sora liked it best that way. It was another indication that he was where he belonged. "I told you he would."

"Or the fact that we left a trail and came to the General." Kairi shifted into a sitting position, "I told you we shouldn't have left those white men still moving."

"They were unconscious."

"They were breathing."

There was the sound of a throat clearing and three sets of eyes turned to look at the older man.

"If you intend this action again, there will be no tolerance for the injuring of personnel on base without orders. I also suggest that you formulate a better course of action than running about on your whims and aim for a unified goal."

Sora grinned. He knew that they wouldn't be reprimanded by the General for escaping to begin with. There was no love lost between Him and the General. Sora was quite certain that the General wanted him dead, but it was one of those confusing situations he didn't quite understand. He did understand that the moment the General gave him the order, he would happily oblige.

He thought it was because the General wanted to do it himself.

"Is Matron around?" Leave it to Riku to remember why they had come. He didn't like the General much, and Sora assumed it was because he was jealous. His smile grew at the thought and began idly stroking Riku's waterfall.

"She has been called away from base on an errand." His gloved hands twitched and came to rest on the arms of his chair. Sora wondered why he always wore them, but when he had asked the General had ignored him.

"Someone's coming." Kairi's eyes were riveted on the door to the office as though the plain wooden board hid something fascinating.

"It is time for you to leave." The older man gestured to the door from his seat. Sora liked how unfazed the man always seemed. Like a rock, carved to be human and dressed in shadows. "You will wait for Edea in your chambers. I will see that she is notified of your request for an audience."

…

Blue eyes. So blue they seemed to glow. The focused directly on him for a brief moment, something flaring beneath – recognition? – before they focused on a point slightly to the left of his shoulder.

"Sir."

He was silent as he regarded the blond, the defiant spikes of hair challenging his gaze. A step to the side…a shift of gaze. Interesting.

"…Leonhart informed me that you had requested my presence."

The General turned his back to the younger man, stalking gracefully to the large window behind his desk. "…I had requested both yourself and Squall Leonhart present, but it seems that he finds himself above the orders of his superiors."

His fist clenched and unclenched subconsciously while clasped at his back. That man was one of the few that would even dare to ignore his orders, hiding behind his father's position regardless of how much he protested his dependence. A petulant child attempting to be rebellious, how trite. It would have to be dealt with soon, but it did allow him a measure of freedom in the assessment of the new recruit.

"Where were you prior to your induction into this facility?" No need to check the files; they didn't exist. "What faction trained you?"

"I don't know, Sir." Was the only reply the grey-haired man received.

Which was ludicrous and unacceptable.

The man was hiding something - that much was apparent.

"I witnessed your exhibition, I recognized your manoeuvres. Where did you learn?" He turned emerald eyes upon the slighter man, gauging his reactions. Hesitation. Uncertainty.

"I don't know, Sir."

There was silence in the room for more time than it looked like the blond could handle. He shifted beneath the General's unblinking eyes with obvious discomfort.

"They reported you had a temper; a spirit." He strode calmly over, stopping just inside the blond man's personal space; one step closer than protocol accepted. He could literally see the man's struggle not to step back. Amusement flickered in the back of his mind.

"The reason you are here today is to decide your function within this unit; an assessment that Leonhart would have proven useful with." Silent, wilful and difficult no doubt as well. "We have yet to test your abilities with standard issue weapon, but already you have proven quite…inventive. We have no reason to believe you would be incompetent in their usage at this time."

He wanted to see that indignant spirit; wanted to spark a fire, an anger, any expression in the young man. Something different than the closed and guarded expression that the blond had adopted after he realized…overcome his initial discomfort.

It could be written off as a test of his mental stability, he mused.

It was still there…there were traces underneath his mask. If he stepped a little closer, mentioned a little more based on his assumptions. There was a vague sense of memory with this individual; glimpses of his past that his mind insisted had something to do with – but they wouldn't stay.

Instead he bent closer – just close enough that his hair grazed the side of the other's face, one gloved hand lightly tracing his cheek. There was a spark of amusement as he felt the flinch at the touch from an otherwise frozen body. "You have the right look…and if Leonhart's report is accurate, you have the spirit to do well in that field…"

"…sir?" the man remained immobile. Oh yes, this one would do well with some training.

Leonhart had become difficult to send out on all assignments that came in, and not all that did would accept Lockheart as a substitute. Vincent was unsuitable for such work due to his personality and…habits, and no doubt Riku would kill the target long before completion should Sora take the job.

"Yes, I think you will do well…" he straightened, lightly gripping the man by his chin and tilting it slightly, smirking. "I will inform Lockheart and Leonhart to begin training you and getting you accustomed to your new duties."

There was a look of confusion in the blue eyes as they finally glanced his way, focusing on him and not on a space in the distance. Impressive.

"That is all."