Story alert is like the new review on this site or something. Dx Lots of story alerts, but no reviews lol. Well that's a change of pace for me. Well I'll just take it that I have the characterization down since no one has complained that it's off, so that's a good thing. Anyways, I hope you are all enjoying the story thus far. I'm just happy to be writing it to begin with. Anyways, here be the next installment.

Cleaning and Feeding

Much hadn't changed in the four days since he had awakened from his so called 'comma' Zack realized why he hadn't been fed, apparently his nutrition had been getting pumped into him by the I.V. How that is supposed to sustain him he would never know, and he watched as the bag that the grants him all his nutritional needs slowly but surely emptied.

In the last four days Cissnei entered several times each day. One would just to check the equipment that he's hooked up to. Second would be to give him pain medication during certain intervals during the day; which, has come to be his favorite time of day because the pills were strong enough to take some of the pain away and then dope him up enough for him not to care about the rest. He knows it's something that would be bad to be addicted to, but he'll deal with that bridge if he ever crosses it. When you suffered from several gunshots in the chest then you can lecture him.

Occasionally she would enter with a cloth and a pan of water, patting his face to wipe away any sweat, dried or fresh, clean from his face. Other than that, he hardly saw her, but it's not like he would expect to. He hasn't said anything since he's woken up, unsure whether or not he could, or if she would hit him if he tried. He's still worried about his condition concerning his lungs. Breathing hurts like hell, and makes it difficult to sleep at night unless he gets more pain medication.

He also hasn't moved from his spot on the bed; for any reason-- at all. It frightened him when he begins wondering why he hasn't had the urge to use the bathroom yet; then he thinks himself lucky because he isn't sure if he'd manage to get there, let alone get the deed done. He would like a shower though; he isn't one who goes days without one, and he's very conscious about his own personal hygiene. Even if he's restricted to a bed, he still would like to be fresh and clean. Just throw him in a tub and if he can't support himself which in turn, leads him to drowning, then so be it. At least he'd end up dying clean.

In the back of his mind, he kicks himself for not staying unconscious while his body healed because these last four days, to put it in light terms- sucked. The highlight and most exciting moments of the day is when Cissnei walks in to check up or go about doing the routine movements. Granted there's very little, if any, interaction between the two of them in terms of words. She may say something, comment on his condition, or ask him if he's in pain; which only involves a brief nod or shake of his head. Oh yeah, he can kind of make some movements now- Ode to Joy.

So four full days, in pain no less, have been spent starring at the naked bare walls. He's grateful for what Cissnei is doing and everything, but she could have at least put him someplace interesting. Or given him a television, or maybe a book. Yes, he does read on occasion when the situations warrants it. He may have an attention span but a book would be eternally grateful instead of being left laying in bed with nothing but depressed looking walls acting as his only counsel.

He let out a hard breath, blowing hair out of his face, a habit he's picked up recently-- some days he'll even make a game out of blowing a strand from one side of the face to the other. All in the name of entertainment. His eyes twist downwards when he hears the sound of the door opening. He can't see it, but he waits for her to come into his line of sight regardless. Her appearance is a little unusual, as Zack had, in the last four days, basically mapped up a 'Cissnei' schedule in his mind, for which times she enters and which times she leaves. This of course, all mentally timed, he doesn't even have a clock in this room.

Regardless, if his calculations are correct, and he's pretty sure they are since he's always been good with calculations, she is early. Thirty minutes give or take. When she reached the side of his bed his head turns to the side to get a better look at the object she's holding in her arms. A white box. A white medical box to be exact. His eyes shoot up to her face in question.

Cissnei for the most part, just lets her brows raise the slightest, as if expecting him to say something to her, "Need to change your bandages sometime." She informs him. Which he reckons would be a good idea since she hadn't done so since he has woken up. He just gives a brief nod to let her know that he's ready. Not that he'll be doing anything, but it makes him feel at least not completely hopeless; although, knowing Cissnei, she'd change them with, or without his permission.

She sets the medical box on her makeshift work table, which she opts to never sit on, before grasping the end of the blanket covering his form. With the care of a mother tending to her sick child, she gently pulls it off of him; causing him to immediately feel a few degrees cooler. His arms remained firmly at his sides, bruises and welts marred across his skin from the back of his hands leading up to his shoulders. His chest has several white bandages taped to it, and the rest of visible flesh is covered with bruises and burns from the battle. Not to mention old scars; granted he had prided himself in not having that many. Seems he's making up for all of them now.

He didn't say or attempt to do anything, he just merely keeps his eyes on her movement. He watched as she brought a hand up to rub behind her neck as she starred down at his form. He never looked at his condition in his free time, he knew it would look bad, and he didn't want to know the extent of it. Her brows drew together in concentration before she reached down to work on getting the first bandage off.

Nails grazed lighting against his sore chest before peeling back the tape that holds the first bandage. He took note of the fact that she's trying her hardest not to put any pressure on him so not to irritate his body. At the same time however, that grazing of nails and delicate touches isn't exactly the greatest thing either. He happens to be ticklish; especially at his sides, which happens to be the bandage she's working on currently.

A pained chuckle escapes his lips as Cissnei tries to grab the edge of the tape. The Turk shakes her head lightly as a brief smile crosses her lips. "Sorry." She says in ways of an apology before she manages to take the second bandage off as well.

Zack shakes his head, "…so'kay." He practically croaks out the first word spoken by him since awakening. His eyes wander down her arms to focus on her hands working on another bandage on his chest. He makes a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her hands and not allow them to take note of his condition. After a while, temptation grew too much so he averted his eyes completely to cast it away.

Cissnei's own eyes wander from the task at hand to his face, sympathizing with him. She had taken notice that he didn't ask about his condition or look for himself either. Nor has she entered the room in time to see him checking out his injuries. This either meant he doesn't have the strength to lift the covers off himself, or he's afraid to find out. She guessed on the second part and by the looks of things, she guessed correctly. "How are you feeling?" It was the first question she asked that didn't wager a yes or no answer.

He pauses for a moment to think upon the question; although there really isn't much to think on it. In truth, he's just preparing himself to speak. Seeing how she asked a question that actually warrants his opinion, that meant she won't beat him for speaking. Rule you learn about Cissnei- follow orders. She has a habit of making you feel like an idiot if you go against them and end up in trouble or the victim of Reno's many jokes. "…Quite seriously injured." He coughs, his throat rough and unaccustomed to use after so long. His voice isn't as cheery and carefree as it always sounded. Deep, rough, and broken.

Again a brief smile crosses her lips as she removes the last bandage. Her eyes drop down to the bullet wounds; a moment passes before her brows draw together once more. Confusion inching its way onto her face for reasons Zack is unsure of. She shakes her head once more before straightening up, grabbing the used bandages. "Wait here." She says before making her way towards the door.

"Like I have a choice." He tried to joke, a light one, but it comes out roughly and again he's forced to cough from the irritation in his throat. He waits only a few minutes before she enters again, one hand holding a familiar pan, the other holding a glass of water. His lips twist into a half smile and light goes into his eyes at the sight of the drink. 'She read my mind' He thought happily.

He lifts his head up, hell bent on changing his position to sit up; however, the moment she places the pan of water down, she pressed the three fingers in the center of her hand against his forehead, "Stay down. I don't want you moving." She orders. She just raises one brow up at the pout he tries on her, informing him that it wouldn't work. Leaning over a little, she brings the glass to his mouth and tilts it the slightest so he could drink slowly. She pulls it away after a few moments, half of the contents gone, and places the glass on the nightstand before grabbing the pan and going down on her knees at the side of the bed.

It is then that Zack realizes, that she plans on cleaning him, or at least, wiping him down. He just prays that she doesn't plan on doing a thorough cleaning job. That would be a blow to his pride big time. Luckily she seems to be focused on his chest, and he wagers a guess that she wants to make sure it's clean before she bandages him up again. "…Any news on Aerith?" He asks the question that's been digging in his mind for the last four days.

The Turk pauses in her work to glance up to his face, speculation passing through her eyes as she stares at him. The moment fades away and she places her focus back at the task at hand. "She's fine. Still living with her mother and selling flowers on the street."

"Oh yeah?" His voice went up a octave or two due to his excitement, almost sounding like his usual chirpy self in that moment. He's glad to hear that she's still selling them, and glad that she is actually managing to sell them by the sounds of it. He hesitates a moment before his next question, "Does… she know where I am?"

Perhaps the question had been stupid to ask, because when Cissnei raises her head to look at him, she has the most blanked out expression anyone can manage. No emotion, no expression, simply a blank solid stare right back at him. "Do you see her here?" As if that's answer enough. She places the cloth back into the pan and grabs the medical box, resting it on the edge of the bed to make working easier.

"…So where exactly am I?"

"My house." It was quick, sharp, and abrupt. He's beginning to think that Cissnei isn't in the mood for conversation, but he's been stashed away in one of her rooms for the past nine days hidden from the world like he's some dirty little secret. Five unconscious days, and four completely bored days.

"What about Cloud?"

"Who?"

"My friend."

"The infantryman you were with?"

"…Yeah."

"Oh, is that his name? No word."

Zack blinks at that. Didn't they have files on the two of them when they were hired to go after them? Something seems odd that she would play off as not knowing his name, but then again, maybe not. She didn't know he was one of the subjects that had escaped until they met on the shore that night.

'No word is good word.' Zack reconciles with himself while Cissnei silently presses a fresh bandage to one of his wounds. It simply means that Shin-Ra hasn't found him yet, dead or alive. If he were dead though, they should have found his remains by now. This means he's hiding. Relief washes over Zack's form at that knowledge, 'He made it.'

Once the task of reapplying bandages is complete, Cissnei stands back up on her feet. Her arms cross over her stomach before she stares down the injured man occupying the bed. It feels like minutes to Zack before she speaks, "Shall we try actual food today?"

"I swear, you're reading my mind!" He exclaims, although happy with the prospect of actual food, "I'll take a double cheese burger, extra bacon, no onion. And fries dripping with gravy."

He brows shoot up at the order, amusement dashing through her eyes before she shakes her head at him, "I already have something made for you."

"You cooked for me?" He teased lightly, a smile crossing his lips, "Well, in that case, I'll take that."

She started towards the door, waving her hand behind her, "You didn't have a choice in the matter."

"Uh.. Is it good?"

"I don't know. You'll be the one finding out though."

Something tells him that Cissnei isn't necessarily the type that spends a lot of time in the kitchen. Now that he thinks about it, he's never once heard anyone talk about her cooking, or using a microwave, or heard any stories about cookies she may have baked. Should he even trust what she brings him? It's one a minute or so before she's back in the room, holding a bowl in her left hand and a spoon in her right hand. She lowers onto her knees at the side of his bed, "Open wide." She almost chimes, and that brief smile crosses her features once more.

"What the heck is that?" He blinks at the contents in the bowl. "That's not food, that's… goop." Indeed that's what it is. It's a liquefied bowl of one thing or another. To Zack it looks like mashed potatoes mixed with a lot of water. It has some sort of solid masses in it, very small, and covered in white goop, which makes it unidentifiable.

"Don't complain. I'd rather you not choke on solids."

"You sure this isn't like… a drink of sorts. Creamy oat smoothie or something along those lines." He lips cringed together and his head turns to the side to get away from the oncoming spoon. "It doesn't even smell like anything."

"Just eat it. It'll do you good."

"I don't wanna."

She raises a brow at that. Zack whining like a child isn't exactly uncommon, but even after all this time of knowing him it's still a weird occurrence to see a grown man actually sound like a four year old. Mix it with his latest injuries, across his body and face, then you have something bizarre. Almost like a monster trying to pass as friendly to a child. "Do I need to use the airplane technique Zachary?"

Zack turns his head back at her, amusement written across his face, "Well, if you want--" She shoves the spoon in his mouth, and he almost chokes on it. Once she slides the spoon out Zack rolls the contents in his mouth, "You went a little heavy on the garlic." He says after swallowing the contents.

"It spilled." She tries as excuse before shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

Again he takes time to taste it and sort out what it actually is. He swallows again before adding, "Cauliflower? Mmm I think there's some nutmeg in there. That's strange. Did you make this from scratch?"

"It was in a box." He doesn't believe her, and she shoves another spoonful in his mouth.

This time he received one of the small unidentifiable chunks that is floating in the mushy concoction, "Ah, chicken. Nothing has the healing powers like chicken."

"Very observant of you." She comments, although there's amusement in her voice that makes him wonder if he may have guessed it wrong. "Are you going to continue to decipher the soup?"

"This is soup?" He almost laughs, he would have if it hadn't been for the spoon being forced in his mouth, and practically down his throat. "Rosemary, salt, a hint of pepper." He thought for a moment before opening his mouth once more, waiting for another taste. He receives it and Cissnei just continues to stare at him, "I'm guessing it's not milk you used. It's not water, nor is it cream." His lips contort and a grimace, "Did you use that dry milk in a box? The junk you add water to?"

"Guilty as charged. Now just eat it." He sensed that he's getting on her nerves. Perhaps she's a bit touchy about her cooking? He can't help it though; he was presented with a strange goop, so he needs to know what it is. "Keen sense of taste you have there, by the way. Didn't think SOLDIER would affect senses that much."

Zack laughed only a little at that, "It doesn't. I used to cook with my mom all the time. I happen to be pretty good in the kitchen." If she got put down by his apparent superior culinary skills, it doesn't show on her face. She simply nods her head briefly as she sets the empty bowl aside. "Stay away from dry milk, and it would have been something other than chicken and goop. Although you need to stay away from garlic. That stuff overpowers the taste of anything."

"Garlic is good with anything."

"Oh." Cissnei is a garlic junky. Who would have ever imagined that? He always imagined she'd be the type of who enjoys the plain bland taste of cardboard. Nothing as sharp and overpowering as garlic. Zack likes garlic too, but it's only an ingredient you should use sparingly, and with only certain dishes.

"Can I have a television?"

"No, I don't have one. And I'm not buying one. Unless you want to pay for it. You'll also be paying for cable as well."

"How about a book?"

"No books."

"You don't have any books?"

"I don't use this house often."

"Still… no books? Not a single one?"

"No."

"How do you not have a single book? Hell a cookbook would be fine." Suddenly he grinned at that, "Then again, if you had one, that goop would have been something."

She crosses her arms over her chest and a single brow raises; daring him to try to continue knocking her meal. "I can leave you to starve if you would like." She smiled slightly at the idea, and Zack came to the conclusion that he wouldn't put it passed her to do such a thing.

"So no book, and no television. What am I supposed to do for entertainment?"

Her shoulders gave a brief lift as she shrugged her shoulders. She picks the bowl up and heads towards the door once more, "Use your imagination Zack. You have an overactive one to begin with."

"How come you never wear anything else than your Turk uniform?" She pauses at the door and looks over to him laying in the bed. One brow raises once again, a clear motion that questions him 'why?' He has the urge to scratch the side of his head but goes against the process, it's hard kicking a habit, especially when you're not purposely trying to.

"Well… I never seen you wear casual clothing. Are Turks not allowed to wear casual clothing even off duty? The only time I saw you wear something else was at the beach in your swim suite." A sly look works its way across his face, "I wouldn't mind you wearing that. But that suit doesn't look comfortable at all."

If he got to her in any way, you wouldn't know it. She still had that blank, no emotion Turk expression that she perfected over the course of many years of training. That takes the fun for Zack out of a lot of things. He always wonders if she's even capable of embarrassing her, or causing her to blush. It had been sort of a game between the two of them back when he was still in SOLDIER, so far he's failed and she's come out on top with each round. Looks like this one is included.

"Get some rest." She comments before opening the door, not bothering the acknowledge the conversation. It's usually how the game goes anyway, so he takes no offense. "Oh." She pauses once more, suddenly recalling something important, "You were wrong, by the way. It wasn't chicken."

"It wasn't?" That comes as a surprise to him. He had been so sure he got everything, "What was it then?"

"Cat." With that she steps out and closes the door.

"You killed a cat?"