Chapter Eight: Endurance

"How're you feeling, Squall?"

The world was too bright. The world was too bright, and the disembodied voice was coming from the well placed fade in from white. The world was too bright, and if someone didn't remedy the situation, he was going to pile their bodies in front of the light source and lie in their shade.

Thankfully, the speaker seemed to sense this from the few half-muted groans he managed in his first wakeful moments and the light lessened. Halved. A few blinks told him it was thanks to the semi-opaque curtains that had been drawn by an oddly helpful Yuffie.

"What happened? I mean, I heard from the General, kinda, but that was more of a diluted over-heard him on the phone while he was talking to Matron behind a wall and…well I don't think I heard everything, so what happened?" She was sitting on his feet now, bouncing happily as he levelled a glare at her grinning face. "Are you really sick? Are you dying? Why did you disappear with Cloud? Was it good?"

It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, he didn't like it much. It sounded like he'd gotten too friendly with a cactuar and it had left its mark. "Water."

"The whole place was flooded! I got soaked, and I know I wasn't the only – oh. Oh right." She leapt off the bed and shoved a glass in his hand while he sat up slowly.

He watched her waiting eagerly as he drank, purposely taking his time; more to gather his thoughts than annoy her, but it came a close second. Funny, he couldn't remember much of last night. Which couldn't be a good sign. It never was, was it? And she said he'd disappeared with the blond. Speaking of…

"Where is Cloud?" And that shouldn't have been his first words. 'Inform the General I'm awake' or 'Go away and let me sleep' or even simpler 'Bugger off'. But no, he just had to go and ask about the bundle of death with a pretty face.

"Oh! Yeah, he slept with you last night –" She looked worried when he choked on the water, trying to pull the glass away from him. "…in the infirmary. Are you red?"

"Where is he now?" He was still wearing the suit from the night before, it seemed. Solid black pants, rumpled white shirt.

"Gods, I think you blushed. What did they do to you?" Yuffie seriously looked concerned now. Which was funny, wasn't it? He wasn't so cold and cut off from people that the thought of him being human was a cause for concern, was it? And she was feeling his forehead now.

"Yuffie…" He growled, one hand catching her wrist. Which she pulled away from easily…it wasn't supposed to be that easy. He realized that he was still remarkably weak, and she knew it.

"Relax, he's with Rinoa."

"Rinoa? She's here?"

"Was. They left in a car a few hours ago." Yuffie grinned, leaning over the bed. "I think she took him back to the house. Jealous?"

"Whatever. He's new at this, Yuffie. Whatever they have planned for him, he needs more training. Even Rinoa will see that."

"He saved your ass. From the looks of it, he had a better grip than you did. And on his first mission no less!" And her smile was gone. Yuffie, jabbed him in the forehead, and he fell back with an undignified grunt. It looked like now that she knew he wasn't dying, she wasn't going to hold back any longer. "I spoke to Tifa, Leon, you're supposed to be our big great team leader, and even she saw them spike your drink. Sephiroth was the one who called it in? Your only function this time was Cloud's back-up, and he ended up dragging you home, so don't you dare say he needs more training."

How did he know this was coming. "He's only twenty-one."

"And I'm sixteen. Your point?"

"I had a few things on my mind." He muttered sullenly. "He still needs to adjust."

"Yeah. And you're supposed to be the professional mercenary." She crossed her arms huffily, turning away.

Yuffie was lecturing him, he realized. Yuffie. His day had officially plummeted to drastically low levels. And with that came the realization that if Yuffie was lecturing him, what was yet to come from the General, from Matron, from Laguna, from Rinoa was sure to kill him.

"When's the debriefing?"

"You've been out of it for half a day, Leon. You missed it."

"No one woke me?" Yes, he was in the infirmary, and yes, he didn't think he could stand on his own at this point, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Aeris told the General you needed your sleep. He's not as heartless as you think."

Well that was a good reason. That woman was terrifying when she had her mind set on something, and not even the General was impervious to her will. She rarely made demands for anything, but when she did, she expected to be obeyed.

Leon let his head fall back against the infirmary pillow with a thud, struck once more with exhaustion.

"You're supposed to rest for at least another eight hours, and beyond that should Aeris deem necessary." Yuffie crossed her arms smugly. "I'm to make sure that you do."

For a very brief moment he had the feeling that Cloud had betrayed him by leaving him in such a position, but only briefly before he found himself nodding off once more.

…

There had been a time, Sephiroth mused, when those under his command had listened with fear and awe with his very presence in a room. A time when he could send a soldier cowering in his boots with merely a glance, and a single word that would send him off to die. Now, as he sat patiently in his chair, he wished it was still so.

"You weren't watching him closely enough!" Selphie had a binder pointed dangerously close to Tifa's nose as the other woman leaned across the table, pointing back with her own.

"He's a grown man and a trained soldier! He's supposed to know how to look after himself!" She shot back. "Besides, I was fulfilling my duties by making contact with influential guests!"

"Selphie, you were the one serving him drinks. Why didn't you cut him off before it impaired his judgement?" Sephiroth wondered vaguely if it was time to review the pros and cons of speech with the team as Yuna added her thoughts rather unhelpfully.

Which of course had the brunette rounding on her now. Sometimes he wondered if females did that on purpose. "What, so now it's my fault?"

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose before bellowing out a call for silence. Of all the things he had to deal with, now he found himself missing the brief company of the young blond man. At least he kept silent and held deference to his commanding officers. The familiarity of the boy was something else entirely, left to be prodded and examined at a later time.

"All of you, he is back. He is alive. Now stop your squabbling. The night was a catastrophic failure, but one which was salvaged by Tifa's ability to make contact with the daughter of a key player in our dilemma. So in a way, we can consider Squall's poor experience to be in our favour this time as it gave Tifa the opportunity she needed to secure our next foothold." Tifa looked smug, Selphie looked disgruntled, and Vincent looked interested. Which in and of itself he found was a mildly disturbing sight. He pressed a button on the panel before him, the debriefing screen flickering to life. "Now if you will, Tifa."

She cleared her throat unnecessarily.

"Large producing companies rely quite heavily on their suppliers to stay in business, and none so much as Uncle Scrooge's Sea Salt Savouries. Their dependence on large shipments of sea salt means quite literally that their success is in the hands of the largest distributor, nearly the only distributor, of this raw material. I'm sure you're all familiar with this man," the face of a kindly looking old man with long white hair, a full beard and moustache to match filled the screen, "Triton, aptly known as King Triton in the industry. His business is a family run affair; his spokespersons, and Ansem's models, are Triton's very own daughters, and he has enough of them to insure that he will always have an heir apparent. Fortunately for us, his youngest recently married into one of the nobility that we have a connection to and is willing to pursue relations."

She nodded to Sephiroth, who indulged her by pressing the panel again, the screen flickering to contain six faces of young women, none of whom could be over the age of thirty.

"The Princesses of Heart. The six most influential women in the world at the moment, and the wealthiest. The seventh, as you know, is under our care. This one," the image of the hazel-eyed brunette grew larger, "Belle, will be holding an invite-only ball of sorts on Friday, and thanks to Triton's daughter, we now have an invitation."

"So who's going?" Yuna leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a glance at Vincent. "A single invite would only get us two people in unless we were to create more."

"The more of us we attempt to filter in, the more noticeable it would be." Vincent said softly. "The best course is to send only two, while the rest keep monitoring the movements of the other suspects in Xehanort's organization. Leon is the only choice."

Sephiroth said nothing, watching the others carefully.

"Why Leon?" Selphie slammed a hand on the table. "He needs time off. To cool off, if nothing else! You know Rinoa's probably got her own shiny little slip of paper; what happens then?"

"Who do you suggest we send as the male lead then?" Edea finally spoke up from her corner, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Cloud? The newest of our little band, and still building his confidence in a team? Sephiroth? He would be far too noticeable which might lead to complications later. We need a noble - someone their rank, and an escort."

"Cloud is far more competent than that, Matron." Tifa retorted, "He brought Leon home safely last time, didn't he?"

"I agree; he is rather a remarkable boy. General," Edea turned to Sephiroth, "if you would loan us the use of your soldier. Squall shall be attending this event, and Cloud shall be his accompaniment to see that he comes home safely once more."

"What?" Tifa's surprise was drowned out by the tittering laughter of Selphie and Yuna.

"If you all would see to the preparations. I will inform Yuffie myself and see to it that Squall is aware of the arrangement in time."

"Why –"

Edea cast an amused glance at Tifa as she stood. "Because, dear Miss Lockheart, you have been seen with him too often as of late. One might get the wrong impression about you two which would then limit your use in the future. I'm sure you would rather play a larger role than merely Squall Leonhart's supposed fiancée. Also, three of you have scheduled sessions this Friday which you will not be missing, understood?"

Sephiroth had to admire Edea's skill at striking the fighter-girl silent.

…

He was fascinating to watch, in all his peculiarity; concentrating so diligently in everything he did. Almost as though he felt the dire need to prove himself beyond a doubt in even the most mundane of activities.

They were so much alike, he and Squall, in more ways than Rinoa thought either would admit. They were both very private individuals, very closed off when threatened, and each equally quick learners. The difference lay in what she liked to refer to as their 'true personalities'.

It was all well and good to say that both wore masks and built walls around their proverbial hearts, but there was more to it than that.

Squall wasn't very outgoing or sociable. He had made himself into the paragon of a soldier. In all her time knowing him, he had never once opened up or showed an interest in anything other than his own studies. He was cold, with a standoffish personality that would just as easily let his pride take the better of him as shrug and walk away. Didn't concern him, wasn't his problem. Go talk to a wall. She'd found it amusing – had loved trying to work around that and learn just how Laguna's son could possibly be so different from his father.

But then, Laguna was partly responsible for how he'd turned out, she supposed. Squall had developed poorly, using his early abandonment issues as a crutch to become sullen and jaded in a way he had no right to adopt. It wasn't Laguna's fault that circumstances had fallen the way they had; couldn't Squall accept that and move on? Sure, she'd fought and run away from her own father on more than one occasion, founded a resistance group and inadvertently hired Squall as a mercenary to defy him, but she still loved him and …somewhat respected his wishes. At least she was marrying respectably like he'd wanted.

But Cloud…though she had noticed that he held some of the same aloofness and cold distance that Squall did, when caught unawares or with his guard skilfully negotiated, he really was just an earnest and eager to please young man. To be honest, she didn't know why he wanted to be a soldier so much, anyhow.

She had watched his process carefully since he had first applied to join the standing army under her father, and had agreed to General Caraway's assessment. He wasn't fit to be a soldier. However, she hadn't agreed with his reasons why.

He had dismissed Cloud Strife as nothing more than a head case, and a dangerous one at that. He had poor social skills and showed a violent and mindless streak when exposed to certain conditions. On top of that, he had no known past, affiliations or ambitions which made him a hazard to the government and the organization. She, however, had seen an opportunity and a young man that just needed the time to find his place. That was why she had him sent to Matron to be placed under the care of the General. Of all commanders, Sephiroth was the best choice for his sort, and Strife showed promise as a fighter.

Surprisingly, she had enjoyed her time with the blond far more than she had expected, and was absolutely thrilled when he could actually be prodded into returning her teasing comments.

The greatest surprise, however, had been his reaction that day to her passing mention of Sephiroth as the blond carefully held a wheel in place, balancing the axle just so. There was the strangest combination of emotions that passed across his face, some of which she had no name, others which were blatantly obvious.

He despised Sephiroth. Loved. Feared. Wanted. Needed. Idolized.

And then there was nothing. Just a boy building a train.

…

When Cloud re-entered the base a good nine hours later, replica train in hand while being waved off by the insanity that was Rinoa Heartily, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Somehow, he wasn't quite sure, Rinoa had managed to dye his hair black. Why he couldn't remember - or indeed why he would have allowed it in the first place - was beyond him at the moment. Maybe it was something to do with the girl herself. Maybe it was the personality. He was pretty sure he had always had problems saying no to a woman, regardless of the idiocy of the plan.

And so there he was, clutching a toy train to replace the one that embedded itself in his foot, and trying not to look at the dark shadows of bangs that fell in his eyes.

She had promised him it would wash out. She had promised him it would wash out, and then she had grinned and told him the colour suited him, shoving him out of the sedan and calling for the driver to move. The woman was insane. Clinically insane. That's all there was to it. Only logical explanation.

The sound of peeling wheels didn't help her case much.

And suddenly, with an indescribable fear he wished desperately he was back in the car, even knowing the dark-haired woman was there.

She had dropped him off exactly where she had picked him up, just before the three short steps that led up to the infirmary. The stairs upon which now stood the tall dark form of General Sephiroth, arms folded and waiting. Not for Cloud, perhaps, because he had clearly seen the car pull up and chose to ignore it. But for something. Or someone.

And Cloud wasn't quite sure why the sight of the older man in the poorly lit night while he stood there with dyed hair and a shoddy toy train made him so scared. Terrified.

But he found out the moment he moved closer.

Sephiroth's eyes shifted to him, taking in the shock of dark hair and the navy standard issue jacket, and something…shifted. They both tensed for an unperceivable moment before Cloud, wide-eyed, felt a fist clench at his collar and his feet leaving the ground.

He couldn't breath; the grip was too strong. If his feet could just get a grip, maybe then he'd have enough leverage to break the hold, maybe he'd…Why was he doing this? What had he done? If it had been Leon, Cloud would have already been gone.

"You are dead!" The General snarled, and Cloud knew that it wasn't him that Sephiroth was seeing. He was seeing through Cloud; seeing something else entirely. But even knowing that was no consolation as he felt his back impact against the exterior of the infirmary, whatever breath he had managed to gain in the shift abruptly leaving. The train car had slipped from his fingers in the impact, lying dismally in its bright paint just at the edge of his vision. If it had broken, he'd still owe Selphie a new one.

"Why are you here? You died –in Nibelhiem, you died. I saw you die!" And somehow he still found enough sanity – insanity?- to find it funny that even the General had bouts of mental instability.

We're friends, right?

Cloud knew, in some distance part of his mind – the part that wasn't desperately fighting off the encroaching fear of dying in a momentary fit of madness– that if he wanted to live through this, air was going to be a necessity very soon. And as the hands clawing at the ones holding him suffocating against the building weren't being nearly as effective at loosening the grip, he resorted to frantically trying other methods of escape. Mainly pounding on the walls and scrabbling for purchase there in the vain hope that someone might hear him.

Cloud, run!

"Don't look at me like that! Zack! I order you to stop looking at me!"

Seeing no other option, Cloud readily obliged. Sephiroth responded by casting him aside, Cloud's shoulder hitting the ground with painful jolt. And as he lay there, gasping for breath and watching those dark boots move closer, Cloud swore he smelt fire. Tifa's house was burning. People were screaming.

And someone was standing between him and the General. Dark shaggy hair and a fighter's build. Someone was helping him to his feet as the General disappeared into the night.

…

It was an inopportune time to be interrupted. Inopportune, because now he wouldn't get any answers out of Matron, and because whatever was happening outside sounded like it might need more strength than Leon currently had.

He expected to find Yuffie and Selphie terrorizing the regulars, or even the regulars terrorizing each other. Perhaps the vague thought of a wandering mongrel or some such bestial disturbance passed through his mind even.

What he didn't expect was the sight of one black-haired Cloud Strife struggling against the powerful grip of a snarling General Sephiroth. To be honest, he hadn't actually thought it possible for the General to be out of sorts, and it had cost him the brief flash of time in which Cloud was harshly cast aside.

Wondering why Cloud had dark hair at all didn't even register as he hastily placed himself between the two, infinitely glad that Matron seemed set on handling Sephiroth on her own. That woman was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

And the once-blond was curled on the ground, one hand as his throat, the other nursing his shoulder. He'd landed pretty badly; Leon just hoped it was nothing that would interfere with their new orders.

Cloud was staring at him something awful as Leon tugged the man into a somewhat sitting position.

"Come on, Strife, you're going to have to help me a little here. You're going to be okay, we just have to

move." God was this undignified. He could hardly lift the man's weight in his weakened state, which resulted in an awkward stumbling dance of getting back into the infirmary without either man tripping the other.

What Leon found mildly disturbing was the rasping, inaudible mutters of the once-blond.

"Stay with me, Cloud. Aeris will have my head if something happens to you now." He grunted.

"Zack." Came the almost whispered voice, Cloud's hands fisting in his shirt. "Zack, you're here. You promised. You promised…"

And that was a clear indication that something was definitely wrong with the man. Another was being jerked to a stop, resulting in over balancing and a staggered sway across the room. Leon's foot caught on something – what, he could not see, though he had a firm suspicion it had been one of the tiered potted plants – which sent him toppling over one of the cots. The steel frame was not his friend, and he didn't doubt he would have a large bruise from where he had landed at the wrong angle.

And Cloud was kissing him now. Awkward, demanding kisses like he was afraid everything would disappear around him. And it would, damn it.

"Cloud, what the hell are you doing?" Leon was pushing him away, or at least trying to. It was rather hard to do when one was still recuperating and pumped full with the residue of painkillers and sedatives. Or when facing a soldier who was clearly caught in his own delusions. "Strife, wake up!"

He wasn't. The bastard wasn't snapping out of it. In fact, his hands were now busily ridding Leon of his shirt with little regard to the buttons, while his mouth was fastened quite happily to the scarred man's neck. Collarbone. Ribs? Too far. Too far!

This couldn't end well; hands fisted in the white sheets, sprawled in an odd angel, not even entirely on the bed. One of Cloud's hands had found its way under his waistband, caressing his hipbone.

This was definitely one of the most awkward and degrading moments Leon had ever encountered.

And the hand in his pants had stopped moving. Was frozen, even. He refused to look to see why.

That is, until Strife had shot across the room and the sound of water and 'why won't it come out!' filled the air. Which was confusing for a moment. It was then that Leon remembered there was a sink in the corner of the room, imbedded in the counter that housed more plants, falling, spilling, living in a tangled mass of leaves and green. There was even a small pink watering can that sat on its edge; a little red bow tied to the handle.

But that really wasn't important at the moment. Or at least, not as important as the frantic man who had only seconds ago been molesting him in a most undignified manner, whispering words of Zack and promises.

Now, Leon had never been good at dealing with people. In fact, his ability to read a situation involving others and to act accordingly had always been rather touch and go, but he was able to navigate reasonably well on most occasions. The somewhat doubtful skills certainly explained why he was so often assigned a team rather than perform solo, though. Most times Tifa was there as much to provide backup as to ensure he didn't end up cultivating wars with his astounding people skills.

But as far as he was concerned, he had done fine so far in missions.

Dealing with the once blond man was a little different though, and this time there was no Tifa or Aeris to buffer.

He was a very proud man. Well Vincent had pride. Leon could deal with that. Proud and silent. But Vincent's moods were rather stable in their oddity. He was more familiar and it was easier to judge what would offend him, and where things would lead.

Vincent only had to be watched around Hojo.

Cloud also had a sharp wit and dry humour that was closer to dealing with Tifa, or even Paine in her more lenient moods. He easily moved between mercenary and civilian like no military man had the right to. In fact, Leon could see the man being quite content in another lifestyle, far away from subterfuge and death.

And the man had already proven that he was a leader when called upon, and was damn good at taking Leon's place

But then there were the times like this, where he would break. Snap. Realize something that had passed him by before. Catch himself in an act that was not entire his own. Cloud's actions, they hadn't been directed at him at all, had they?

All that added up to a confused Leon in where the man stood, and how he should be dealt with. Especially if Matron was serious in her new orders. Which of course she was; he had yet to see her feed him lies. Which led to even more questions.

Questions that disappeared as quickly as they had arrived when Cloud had lunged towards the corner sink, looking nothing more than like he was attempting to drown himself unsuccessfully.

"It won't come out. Why won't it come out?" Came the dismal cry from under the sound of the water. Leon was attempting to pull him away from the stream.

So he was trying to wash his hair now?

If he had his usual strength, this would not be an issue. He could have just picked the other man up and trussed him up to the bed to wait out whatever madness had entered his head. Of course, if he had his usual strength, he would still have his shirt on and Cloud would be locked away in a storage room. As it stood, it took every ounce of his strength to pull the once-blond back to the bed.

Surprisingly, once he was free of the water, he came sullen and silently, allowing Leon to direct him to a seat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Leon snagged the blanket from the other cot, using it to roughly towel dry the other's hair. "Everyone breaks."

Some of the dark dye came off on the makeshift towel, and no doubt he'd get hell from Aeris for ruining the sheets, but the head before him was still predominantly black. Rinoa certainly did a number on him. Leon was almost afraid to know why.

There was a soft snort and a heavy silence.

"We're going to go out tomorrow. Off base." The man needed it. He was adjusting, but adjusting took time. Hell, even Yuffie still broke on occasion; it wasn't fair to expect him to be perfect. Whatever discomfort arose from memories of this night would have to be dealt with later. Emotions weren't allowed to interfere with work.

"You think they'd let me leave? Now?" There was incredulity in his voice, staring down at the soiled sheet in a strange fascination. "After…that? I…I'm sorry. I don't know what --"

"They don't need to know. Not about that." Leon shifted. "As far as Matron's concerned, I escorted you inside, and you went to sleep.

He should tell them. File a report. True, he hadn't been violent, but what would Leon have done if Strife hadn't remembered himself? Things may have gone too far, and what then? Would he have been as willing to cover then as he was now?

…Probably. If only to save face.

But that didn't matter now. They wouldn't speak of it again, that was all. For now he would follow what training dictated, and that was to prepare his team for their next outing.

And that meant convincing said team mate to co-operate. Even if he was quite sure the other would have no intention to.

"Dinner. I know a good place a few hours from here. Good food."

"Why?" Suspicion. Wary. Well, he had good reason to be. That didn't mean that Leon would be easy on him.

"Don't want you to burn out too fast. You got thrown in the mess of things without proper training. Trust me, you need time away."

And that was the end of it. Cloud offered no refusals, or questions, or suspicions after that, and Leon offered no answers, or explanations or assuagements. He just curled up on the one bed, one hand firmly clutching the stained sheet, not even bothering to crawl under the covers.

Leon sighed, shifting his seat to the other cot and resting his back against the wall. Now the problem arose of how to convince the man into a dress.

Maybe a visit to Cid was in order. And 7th Heaven.