Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
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Chapter 6
Pleading for Retention
Gotta write this before I forget.
The dream I had. In it, I looked at my hand and saw Lionheart there, and as there's no one else in the world with that gunblade I know I'm looking through my own eyes. I'm in the training center. There's T-Rexaurs around me.
Eden's forming, tearing herself free from me. Somehow she's manifesting without switching places with me. She's not shuffling me into that odd interdimensional space all things connected to a Guardian Force are pushed when they either store items for you or trade places with you – she's not overtaking my molecular mass for her own creation. She's forming herself out of the very essence of the planet, leaving me completely. I can hear my cry of pain as she physically rips herself out of my mind.
The colors in the dream are blinding. Everything's aglow in gold and white, surreal in how bright it is. It's like staring straight into the sun, her glow overpowering everything around it as she fills the training center.
Her voice screams in my head even now. "You will not control me," she rages. "I will be no slave to the moon," she snarls. "I am your rightful destroyer – you will not deny me," she threatens. "This planet is mine to demolish – this is the purpose of my existence," she professes. "None less worthy than I will take this planet; its life is my domain, not any others'," she roars.
Her wings stretch through the dome of the training center. The steel and glass that form those strong walls and thick ceiling are shredded. Glass rains down on me. Even though it's a dream, I feel the pain of those shards stabbing into my flesh and the warmth of my blood running down my skin.
Rainbows surround me. Red, blue, purple, green, yellow; every color I'd ever imagined existing swims around me. I realize that I'm in the middle of her attack – I'm the focal point of it? Eden is attacking me? But she misses.
Or I'm just in the range of her furious attack. Or something.
In my dream, I punch Lionheart down into the ground, feeling its tip bite into steel through the thick dirt we have piled into the training center. I hold on for dear life as those rainbow hues form a grid that warps around her massive frame, bits and pieces of the dome of the training center imploding and whirling around her. The glass shards sparkle like stars as they catch the light that pours from her very form, each nearly as bright as the sun itself.
I'm drenched the very next moment – she's brought every cloud in the sky into a whirling hurricane above her, drawing the very atmosphere to her before pushing it away with incredible strength. The entire planet feels bereft of air and life as her attack rockets the unfortunate T-Rexaurs into space, their forms vanishing in a column of blinding radiance along with most of the training center. The entire Garden's structure rocks violently, her forceful push thrusting the remaining pieces of the training center down into the ocean's waves.
My tenacious grip on my gunblade is all that saves me from being washed overboard. My fingers are caught in Lionheart's trigger guard. Pain roars through my hand as my digits audibly snap, but remain stuck in the metal loop that holds them prisoner. I lash out with my left hand to catch the hilt of my gunblade and ease the pressure on my wounded hand.
Air returns with an explosive blast, washing over the entire area. Waves rocket from the ocean we are sailing over, blown into the sky by the force of air pounding back into the area from space. I nearly fall over once again, but my trapped hand keeps me firmly grounded on the remains of the training center's ground.
All that's left of the training center is a few jutting beams of the framework that once made up the flooring. The all-encompassing dome is gone. The dirt is falling into the ocean. Only one tall palm tree hangs on for dear life, its roots dangling in midair and its trunk leaning tipsily towards its saline death. Grats scream as they fall into the ocean, their strange cry horrible music that blends with Eden's atrocious, triumphant laughter and the beat of her massive wings. T-Rexaurs roar as they tumble into the sea.
The focus of her attack falls into the ocean, each of the reptiles that slams into the ocean sending colonnades of water taller than any manmade structure in the world shooting into the heavens. The broken bodies of her opponents float for only a few moments before they sink into the dark abysmal depths that swirl below them.
Garden is tilted so violently onto its side that I swear it should capsize. It almost lays on its side in the water, a huge wave rolling over its top and burying it in water. I am struggling, my gunblade holding me captive even as it saves me from sinking into the sea, my breath stolen away by the cold ocean's smothering waters.
The structure of Garden suddenly uprights itself, its natural buoyancy thrusting it out of the water's powerful blanket. It overcorrects, and my vision swings violently – first I see the ocean's roiling waves, then my eyes sweep up over Eden's massive form and her huge halo-like upper mass, then I see nothing but crystalline blue sky devoid of clouds. My feet fly out from under me as Garden's backside slams into the ocean, the medical ward that sits opposite of the training center now buried in the water's depths.
I dangle for only a brief moment from my mangled fingers, pain pouring through my hand into my arm, my shoulder and my chest. I faintly hear myself scream in pain as Eden's roaring laughter and rage pours down upon us.
Then my gunblade's bite on the steel fails and I plummet.
Pain rampages through my frame as I feel myself slam against the wall of the Garden behind me, the blast doors that segregate the training center from the rest of the structure having been shut upon the upheaval caused by Eden. I think more than a couple bones break when I hit, but I don't black out – the dream continues in surreal slow motion, everything becoming a blur as time crawls forward.
As Garden surges forward again, I collide with that steel beam I'd been kneeling on then fall right off of it, plunging into the bitterly cold waves.
I briefly notice the others in the water – grats, T-Rexaurs, other SeeD personnel. Garden itself tilts again, a huge rift torn in its side by falling debris and Eden's previous attack pouring water viscerally from it.
Someone screams for me. I can't place the voice. They cry out 'Commander,' letting me know it's likely one of the cadets, or perhaps one of my SeeDs that doesn't regularly associate with me directly. I watch as Garden tilts in my direction again, a huge wave slamming over it and nearly burying it, me surging up towards it even as it comes down to meet me.
I don't float for long – my struggle to remain on the surface of the frigid water is decimated by the heavy weight of the gunblade my fingers are still caught upon. I fight with every ounce of strength I have. I still sink.
I have no junctions. Eden was the only Guardian Force I'd had, and she ripped herself free of me at the commencement of the dream. It's just me, natural and human and weak, against the huge weapon I usually wield with such ease. In the encroaching cold and crushing pressure of the water, it feels undefeatable. I open my mouth to cry for aid only to choke on water and feel my lungs empty of air.
Someone grabs me with more strength than ordinarily considered human. Someone with junctions rescues me. That person hauls me to the still buried jetty of metal that is the remains of the training center. As it begins to swing up and free of the water's crushing depths once again, I use my left hand on Lionheart's hilt to slam its tip back into the steel below me and use it as a brace against Garden's violent swaying once more.
I hear screams from the ocean as Eden settles into it, huge waves miniscule ripples of water fleeing from her poisonous touch. Death's stench fills my nostrils, wafting from the waves as bodies boil in saline.
I am shivering with cold and fear and pain. I feel salty tears leaking unbidden from my eyes, trailing over my cheeks, pushed towards my ears by the hurricane-force winds that rocket from Eden's lazy wings stroking the air.
The person who grabbed me is at my back, his strong, muscular chest against my back. He gently pries my right hand's fingers free of my gunblade. His left arm curls around me to hold me in place even as his right hand replaces mine on Lionheart's hilt, his body stabilizing me and holding me in place even as he uses my weapon to keep his own position.
Eden sweeps closer, her upper wings pushing once against the air even as her voice tears the atmosphere asunder.
"I will be no slave.
"This planet's destruction is my dominion.
"The time has come for me to deliver eternity."
One of her lower wings sweeps forward, barely visible in the horribly bright light that pours down upon us from the underside of her halo. I am nearly blinded in my dream. My eyes water, the pain of the brilliance nearly as terrible as the pain in my hand and the pain in my lungs as they still valiantly heave salt water from themselves.
Another voice cries for me. A young SeeD cadet. Barely in his second year of training. I remember helping him understand how to best build your compatibility with your favored Guardian Force just two days ago, his interest in Shiva touching something deep within my heart. Jealousy? Maybe – but I think I was proud of him for wanting to befriend her, as her normal complacency and agreement to junction to anyone having faded with my continual junctioning of her after my graduation from SeeD training. The kitten of the Guardian Forces has resisted any and all efforts to harness her power, her wintery rage smothering everyone's hopes of her ever cooperating fully with them, her gentle snowy caress being reserved only for me these days.
I feel pain in my heart, a cry of desperate hopelessness trapped in my throat, as he is touched by a stray blaringly white feather from Eden's soft lower wings. He instantly dissolves into dust and blood, the fine particles of red drifting upon the deathly winds that pour over Garden and coloring the metal red as they collide with it.
The arms around me tighten as I cry that cadet's name out, my voice lost on the wind.
The other SeeDs that are in the area wisely flee, some wrestling with the blast doors or dodging those murderous feathers, some diving into the ocean only to be instantly boiled to death with their screams of pain echoing up Garden's wounded side and overpowering even the racket of the waterfall that pours from her shredded basement levels, some climbing along the smooth and slick sides of Garden to find restitution in any location they can find, far away from the apocalyptic destroyer that hovered before us.
The Ragnarok lifts off, screaming away from its dock as soon as Garden lifts itself lamely out of the water, the racket of water pouring from her exterior and interior deafening. The red dragon-ship is a dark blot on the sky against the brilliance of the perfect Guardian Force.
The sky suddenly darkens, a stark contrast to the overpowering light that pours from Eden's very frame, dark clouds forming from nothing and lightning bursting with electric crackles from the heavens. Quezacotyl sweeps out of the whirl of black, her huge wings powering her through the sky, deafening roars of thunder heralding her arrival as deadly bolts of electricity spark and snap along her wings. Fire in the distance streams over the ocean in twin streams running parallel to one another, muscling right along Eden's massive figure and trapping her sharply pointed termination between them right above the waterline. The horrifying roar of the King of Dragons pours from above Quezacotyl's clouds. A stream of white light races through the heavens, starkly contrasted against the thunder bird's black storm clouds, shooting from the direction in which I know there to be land.
Garden begins to move, strafing Eden's massive frame to duck away from her deadly wings, its wounded frame shuddering as another wave collided with its dipping basement levels and threatened to drag the vessel against the direction she traveled. Adjusting instantly, the Garden rises to the top of that massive ripple, pouring down the side of the crested wave and rising from that wave's trough to soar over the next and move as swiftly as possible away from the huge threat and the massive counterstrike that is coming.
Nida is piloting expertly, his unshakable and quiet level-headed presence saving as many people as possible. His effort and action in the face of danger is certainly praiseworthy. If this dream comes to fruition, I'll have to remember to give him public accommodation and add 'saved the day for Garden' to his performance evaluation.
My friends are in the Ragnarok. That much if evident by what's being summoned – Selphie is likely piloting, given how quickly the red ship is changing course through the heavens and racing the thunder bird towards its destination. Those wild dips and weaves only occur when she's behind the controls, Zell having a much more smooth approach to piloting. Doomtrain's rapid appearance also confirms her involvement – as the demonic mechanism makes her brain its permanent station, she has to be there for it to be present. The fact that the gattling guns are blazing tells me that Irvine's onboard, the normally atrociously scattered shots landing with eerie accuracy – that and the fact that Bahamut is awake and assisting, the lazy lizard responding only in times of utmost need (and then with lagging care) unless the cowboy draws him from his slumber. Quezacotyl's presence means Zell's out there, his touch with that bird unnatural – normally she'd have attacked and faded by now, but she's staying present, her thunder and lightning razing the ocean and electrocuting anything that hasn't already been murdered by Eden's overbearing presence. Quistis has convinced Alexander to assist, as his blasts of Holy energy slam into the destroyer of worlds, her conniving ways having wormed her way into the land-locked Guardian Force's questionable heart so deeply that he'd expend enough energy to send his attacks deep into the ocean, far further than anyone else would reasonably expect him to reach.
Doomtrain slams into Eden even as Bahamut unleashes his MegaFlare breath, Alexander's Holy beams collide with her frame and Quezacotyl unleashes the fury of the planet's most volatile storms.
Eden's laughter overpowers all, her huge wings flapping and blowing the clouds away. The Ragnarok nearly spirals out of control as it's beaten by powerful winds, barely kept free of the ocean's boiling waters by Selphie's expert piloting. Bahamut instantly fades into obscurity, retreating to the safety of his junctioned mind, as does Doomtrain – Quezacotyl remains, struggling against the wind, her fierce devotion to the one who carries her encouraging her to fight on.
As Eden turns back towards the Garden, her wings beginning to sweep over and through its structure and screams accompanying the odd puffing sound of people ceasing to exist, the thunderbird unleashes once again, lightning pouring along Eden's huge figure to sparkle upon the roiling ocean's waves.
The bird vanishes as one of the huge upper wings Eden sports lashes towards her, passing straight through Quezacotyl's position and blasting her out of reality.
In that moment, the man behind me pries Lionheart free of the ground its thrust into and verily leaps over me. He holds the gunblade clumsily, his grip on its tight and uncertain, his stance firm as he stands before me.
I can't make it to my feet. The rocking of Garden keeps me on my knees, clutching to the ground for dear life.
The feathers approach me.
Eden is attacking me.
But those feathers don't reach me. The defender who stands before me, his spiky blond hair shining nearly white in Eden's overpowering light, strikes against the feathers that approach me. Lionheart sinks into them, slicing and cutting rather than disintegrating as I fear it would.
Stray tendrils of her feathers touch the remaining deck of the training center, sitting dormant and lifeless, the power to demolish and destroy eradicated as they are separated from Eden herself.
I expect the man to lunge at Eden, but he stays back with me, standing between me and the Guardian Force.
She approaches, drifting ever closer. The ocean below us hisses.
He tightens his grip on my gunblade and stands firm.
They stand at odds with one another.
One, a Guardian Force, rising from the ocean and towering over the massive structure of Garden itself. Eden, who hovers effortlessly with slow and lazy strokes of upper wings whose span puts the massive sprawl of Balamb's capital city to utter shame with their length, whose lower wings trail lazily towards the ocean's waters and stretch nearly twice as long as our world's tallest buildings stand tall, whose expansive halo top is far wider and more massive than the halo that held the impressively enormous Galbadia Garden aloft. A feminine figure larger than even the impressive Alexander who dwarfs the planet's largest mountains, whose golden light overpowers the sun and whose attack very literally tears the atmosphere away from the planet in a frightening moment before plowing it back into our abused world with thunderous might. A beast whose professions I believe – the one destined to bring Apocalypse, to end all life upon our planet and consume it in its dying hour. The true destroyer of worlds.
The other, a simple man, shorter than myself and clothed in nothing but a flimsy pair of boxers that appear to be the like issued by the medical ward. His frame is lightly muscled, wiry and lank and not at all imposing. Spiked blond hair lays nearly flat on his head, bogged down by salty water, bangs trying desperately to rise despite the water's weight and the pull of gravity defeating their efforts, tendrils on his right longer and thicker than those on his left. Alabaster skin is highlighted by Eden's golden glow, scars standing in stark contrast to its smooth span, littering his body almost as thoroughly as mine do my own. His bare feet curl against steel as he stares at Eden with hard eyes that verily glow with adrenaline, pupils nearly cat-slit in the violent light that rages over us.
His muscles bunch as he prepares to leap and attack the destroyer directly.
"No!" I hear my own voice scream. "Stay back or she'll kill you!"
He turns sharply on his heel, his eyes huge and bewildered as he stares at me.
Silver feathers drift everywhere around us, brilliantly reflecting Eden's glow and shining like tiny suns as they dance upon the wind, the hurricane-force winds nothing but an afternoon's breeze to them.
Eden is buried in darkness.
Her cackling laughter erupts into screams of rage as a horribly powerful Ultima spell bursts in her center, its effects rippling her very figure in our reality.
A second Ultima appears.
A third swiftly follows.
As a forth begins to form, the empty sky is filled with darkness as a meteor the size of which I've never before seen grazes by the planet, the waters of the ocean surging towards the heavens pulled by its impressive gravity, and rocks hail from it and pummel the destroyer of worlds.
By the fifth Ultima's eruption, Eden is burning, Flares having formed at her base and dancing over the ocean's already boiling waters before screaming up her massive figure to engulf her entirely.
I am freezing cold, staring with awe and horror as the most powerful Guardian Force our planet's ever known burns, her form wavering as meteors plow through her and shatter the halo that rests atop her neck and arms, her cape shredded and her wings shedding white feathers as dark Ultima spells rend them asunder.
The moon in the sky rotates, Hyne's bloodied eye staring down at us all, chilling and frigid.
The Guardian Force before us laughs softly, her voice thundering as she softly addresses us, the haunting image of her shadowed by the heaven's fierce eye burning into me.
"So the moon would defend the planet? So be it.
"I will slumber until my time comes.
"Defend my dominion from those unworthy of my rightful place, as you would defend it from me."
She sinks into the ocean, her light setting the eternal span of dark water aflame.
"I will rise again.
"Once Hyne's eye has fallen.
"Once his power has ceased to defend this world.
"Its life will belong to me."
Those silver feathers drift into the ocean. The entire Garden is still. Silence deafens me.
The man before me has walked to me, his hands holding tightly onto my gunblade as if he is fearful of dropping it into the ocean should one of his hands release its murderous grip on Lionheart's hilt. He stands before me, calm and serene, his eyes hard only when he looks over my shoulder.
Those SeeDs who have survived the attack, who had witnessed Eden's submergence into slumber, stare with fearful eyes.
I know I look wildly around.
Once again, Rinoa is nowhere to be found.
Wasn't she the who defeated Eden?
The moon's odd reaction, its rotation and its murderous eye staring at Balamb Garden, all are indicators that she unleashed. Her power razed the planet's chosen destroyer into submission.
So where are you?
Why aren't you at my side?
Even now, my dream's fading into obscurity. Eden's laughing softly in the back of my head, her voice causing my brain to pound with pain.
Glad I wrote this down the second I woke up. It seems no matter how much I plead with the treacherous Guardian Force in my head to allow me to retain these visions, she won't comply.
Cloud groaned as he let his head loll to the side.
His body screamed in pain, the very act of returning to consciousness a tremendous ordeal his system seemed ill-equipped to deal with. A harsh shudder razed his flesh, sending shooting shards of agony along his nerves.
He realized he was cold. His surroundings, the environment he was in, was bitterly chilled. Goosebumps raced along his battered flesh as another involuntary shiver moved him, enticing a moan laced with ache to leak from his throat.
His skull felt as if it was on the verge of exploding, the terrible feeling of the tattooed martial artist's fist slamming repeatedly into it lingering still. His back cried independently of him, every small shudder that ran through him enticing shooting pains to race along his spine. Every drawn breath felt like murder, his ribs most assuredly snapped into a plethora of pieces, his lungs straining against them even as his heart's rhythm labored as a bruised muscle's does.
Whoever that 'Zell' character was, he'd given Cloud a beating unlike any he'd ever had before.
Cloud ruefully noted silently to never again take up a battle that fierce with a martial artist. If ever he and Tifa were to come to blows for some reason, he determined right then and there that he'd simply lay down his sword and surrender. Sword cuts and stab wounds were painful, but nothing bordering what he was experiencing now.
It was only Herculean effort that opened Cloud's eyes.
The sight he was greeted with wasn't a pleasant one.
A steel room, small and constraining, with a solid ceiling a bare six feet above his head, three barren and featureless walls, and bars constituting the forth.
He was in a jail cell.
Now he knew why it was so cold. There was nothing in his miniscule cell, barely stretching eight feet from wall to wall, to hold any warmth.
Cloud was resting on a small, elevated bench that rested a bare two feet above the wretchedly cold, smooth metal floor. He'd been granted the courtesy of a blanket upon which to lay, thin and threadbare but superior to resting directly on gray steel. It's excess was balled into a pillow under his head to provide it some support. Across his tiny living quarters he spotted a toilet with no lid.
Gritting his teeth, Cloud closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of his environment.
There was a soft, electric hum. Something high-powered was running nearby. A different pitched hum, deep and rattling, shook in hidden ventilation ducts. A distant, powerful thrum emerged from deep below. An icy whistle snaked its racket through the thick walls of his prison cell, wind racing outside of his containment. Pages were flipped in a book and a chair creaked as whoever sat upon it sighed and shifted their position.
He fought his eyes to force them to open once more. Rolling onto his side, Cloud propped his upper body up on an elbow, staring at the mess his body had been reduced to.
He was slathered in bruises, most having faded already to yellow but some still deep and purple. Small puncture wounds along his ribcage spoke the tale of broken bones puncturing flesh to him. His skin was laid bare to observation, his body nude save for a pair of ill-fitting boxer shorts made of some substance reminiscent of thin paper and doing little to preserve his dignity. His body was cleaned, any and all traces of blood, saliva or dirt wiped from his flesh. A simple adhesive bandage was attached to the crook of his left elbow, a small discolored spot in its center telling of the pinprick wound that was recently in that location, likely the remains of an opening caused by an intravenous drip's needle.
He heard the chair that had creaked earlier slide along the floor. Booted feet approached.
Turning his head, Cloud glowered coldly towards the bars of his cage.
The young man who'd been approaching pulled to a halt, chocolate brown eyes wide and filled with nervous energy. Running pale fingers through thick black hair, he gulped.
"Where am I?" Cloud grated, his voice bruised and deep, its rough tone surprising even him.
Instead of answering him, the youth turned on his toe and walked to the far wall.
Cloud's eyes followed him.
Beyond the bars of his nearly featureless cage, a simple and dull room resided. It had a solitary table, a book and a piece of fruit resting atop of it. A wooden chair was scooted off to the side of it with a comfortable looking red cushion tethered to its back railing. A black phone hung on the wall, its wiring snaking along permanently mounted brackets to join an impressively thick wire bundle near the ceiling that penetrated the steel wall and raced to an unknown destination. The ventilation ducts, two of them, that provided the cold circulating air were punched into the ceiling of that external room, the thermostat that controlled them beside that phone. A pair of crates stood stacked in a corner far removed from the bars of Cloud's cell, carrying upon them thick black lettering designating them as holders of MREs. A water cooler bubbled softly right beside those crates, a stack of plastic cups held in a bin at its base. A solitary door, riddled with complex looking locks and featuring a red light above its handle, stood between the room and whatever lay beyond.
The boy on the phone, as Cloud couldn't see him as anything more than a teenaged youth, was all that could maintain Cloud's attention.
He was dressed smartly, smooth dark slacks snaking down his legs and falling over heavy, well-shined boots. A pressed blouse that matched those slacks in color, long sleeves hiding the young man's arms, covered his torso completely and rested over a barely seen white t-shirt that was barely visible at the neckline. Flaps of fabric formed shoulder guards that sported heavy silver scrollwork, a flamboyant fashion statement Cloud did not comprehend.
Instantly squelching that train of thought, Cloud narrowed his eyes. That was no fashion statement. The manner in which those clothes were worn, the wrinkle-free fall of everything and the smart perfection behind it, suggested a uniform.
The youth's crisp movements suggested the same.
Wherever he was, he was in the hands of some sort of organization. Either the martial artist who'd pummeled him into veritable paste had handed him over to someone, or he was part of whatever group this young man was a part of and simply dressed down for garnering whatever a 'hot dog' was.
The ringing in his battered ears barely grasped what the boy was saying into the phone. "Yes ma'am, he's regained consciousness. No ma'am, he hasn't said anything important yet. Yes ma'am, I'll have to door unlocked once you arrive."
A few awkward moments passed as he blushed, the squeaking voice on the other end of that handset audible to even Cloud's sensitive hearing.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Tilmit. I was raised to call women 'ma'am.' I don't mean to call you old."
With a sigh, he returned the phone to its cradle and shuffled back to his chair.
A sharp cough rattled Cloud's impressively bruised chest, the instinctual urge to clear his throat of its thick, phlegm-flooded state overriding his desire to keep the sensation of torture from overtaking him. A whimper eased from his lips as he laid back down on his thin blanket, a shiver racing through him.
"Miss Tilmit will be here soon. Save your breath for her," the youth on the other side of the bars stated, his voice filled with only as much assurance as the bars that stood between him and Cloud could provide.
One more thick cough shook Cloud's battered body.
"I'll give you water once she's done with you," the young man said, sympathy taking his eyes even as he sat back down on his chair and resumed perusing his book. "You'll also get dinner then. The upper chain said no food or water until their initial questioning is done."
Cloud's brain lurched within his skull. Upper chain….
From his scant days in Shin-Ra's infantry, he knew exactly what the boy was speaking of. He spoke of his chain of command.
Cloud was trapped in a military instillation of some sort.
"Explains the amenities," he breathed softly, more to himself than to the other living being in his vicinity. "Brig?"
"Of course," the young man said with a shrug, turning the page he was looking at.
"What's-"
"Save your breath for Miss Tilmit," the boy interrupted, repeating his earlier statement. His eyes never left his book.
Realizing there were to be no answers coming from his only company, Cloud settled himself back onto his blanket, attempting to find comfort despite the various wounds that littered his battered body. After multitudes of failed attempts, he settled for the least painful configuration he could attain and grit his teeth, swallowing the disparaging sigh he longed to allow to seep from his ribcage.
Without any view of the outside world or any clock within the relatively barren holding area he was in, Cloud quickly lost track of time. He was on the verge of drifting off into slumber once again when a harsh buzz shook him straight out of his restitution and nearly launched him to his feet, the insane agony of sudden movement encouraging him to remain laying upon his hard steel bench with its flimsy blanket coating.
The youth walked to the door, turning multitudes of knobs and switches before lowering the lever of the door's handle itself and swinging the massively thick steel slab upon its hinges.
Cloud cringed as he looked at the thickness of the door. Even if he were at full strength, he realized there was no way he could open that blockade with sheer force. Weakened as he was by the earlier fight, he doubted he could even bend the bars of his enclosure.
He stared at the figure that entered the room.
Miniscule and diminutive, the brunette girl sported short hair flipped carelessly at its ends, enormous emerald eyes and a yellow jumper that barely covered her lithe body. Thick boots encased dainty feet, clomping loudly on the floor as she approached, her lips twisted into a smile that flopped with each breath Cloud took between playfully cheerful and menacingly sinister.
"Alrighty. You can leave, cadet!" she squeaked, her voice bright and happy as she lifted a slender hand and waved to the young man that had been reading his book.
"M-Ma'am?" he stammered, staring at her.
"Oh, c'mon. It's not like he's going to be making it past the force field we have in place around the brig bars. And with our anti-magic field we got from that Galbie screwy prison, there's nothing he can do. Leave, leave! Tsk tsk, trying to stick around when important interrogation's 'bout to start. Why don't you step outside and guard the door or something?"
With a hearty sigh, the young man put his book down and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
The chipper little woman swiftly locked the door behind him before turning back to Cloud, her emerald eyes having lost any and all cheery sheen, being narrowed and deathly cold.
"Where am I?" Cloud quietly asked, his voice as weak as the rest of him as it oozed viscerally from his battered body.
"Seriously?" the girl huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "You break into a place and don't even know where you are? I'm not buying that bit, buster."
Groaning, Cloud sank as thoroughly as he could sink onto his makeshift bed.
"Now I'm supposed to be the one asking questions here." Waggling a finger in his direction, the girl grabbed the chair and swung it nearly into the bars. As soon as it was uncomfortably close, eliciting sparks from the force field Cloud had only learned the existence of moments ago, she backed it a couple of inches and flopped solidly onto its sturdy wooden construct. "So I'll begin. What're you doing here?"
Cloud weighed his options quickly. They were surprisingly slim.
Lying would garner him nothing. Withholding information would likely result in longer incarceration.
He decided to be open and honest.
"I have no idea," he answered, his voice strained and quiet. "I just… dropped in, I guess."
"You have no idea?" the girl repeated, her eyes narrowed and her expression bland. "You really expect me to believe that? Someone breaks onto Garden and doesn't have any idea how or why they did it?"
Cloud shrugged as well as he could.
"Listen buddy, I wasn't born yesterday. No one just 'drops in' on Garden! We've got security measures to prevent that!'
"Sorry. Can't explain it, then."
Scowling, the tiny brunette huffed. "Tell me your name, then."
"Cloud Strife."
She quirked a brow. "That's potentially the most moronic thing I've ever heard. Like, ever."
A growl managed to snake through Cloud's throat. "Fine. Don't believe a word I say. If that's how's it going to be, what do you hope to gain through questioning me?"
A snort from the girl answered Cloud's question, followed by a grumbled, "Fine. Be that way, 'Cloudy.' Then we'll get right down to business. Why'd you come to Garden, 'specially after what you did to them?"
Groaning, Cloud let his eyes drift shut. "I don't know what 'garden' you're talking about. I haven't done anything to anyone, beyond forcing Reno to pay part of his tab a few weeks ago."
The tiny girl snarled. "You know what you did! Just trying to dodge answering up for it, aren't you? Trying my patience, huh? Well, bucko, you better be careful with that! I'm half tempted to 'The End' your butt, considering what you did! Come clean and maybe we'll let you live. Keep being a smarmy butt, and you're deader than dead!"
Grumbling, Cloud cast her a cool look. "What is it I supposedly did?"
"You know!" she roared, leaping from her seat and pointing at him from beyond the bars, care being taken to not cross the threshold of those vertical obstacles lest she suffer the wrath of the force field that separated them. "What you did in Timber!"
"Timber? What you say when you cut down a tree?"
Grunting, she shook her head. "Ha! Well, I see you won't talk seriously to me. Fine then, Mister Smarty Pants. We'll see if you'll talk later."
With a huff, she rose from her chair and stomped loudly towards the door. Taking only a few moments to manipulate the multitudes of locks there, she swung the massive steel barricade open with a roar and grumpily marched away.
Cloud breathed a soft sigh as the quiet guard he'd woken to returned and relatched the door. As the youth repositioned his chair at the table and made his way to the crates in the corner, Cloud fought his way upright and winced, his hand instantly flying to his back.
"Can… I ask you a few questions?" Cloud quietly groaned, his eyes tearing up with the simple effort of sitting.
"No guarantee I can answer them," the young man replied even as he opened the top crate and dug around the contents therein.
"Where am I?" Cloud muttered.
"The brig," Cloud instantly heard.
A grunt echoed the lack of amusement Cloud felt. "I realize that. I mean… where? Where's this brig?"
"Didn't Miss Tilmit tell you?"
"She didn't mention much – said I'm in a garden or something."
Glancing over, a brown packet resting in his hand and a green canteen dangling by its neck from a tenuously maintained grip of slender fingers, the young man frowned. "Yes."
"Vegetable or flower?"
"Pardon?" he asked, his eyes shining with nothing but confusion at Cloud's inquiry.
"Kind of garden."
A scowl took the youth's lips as he punched a button on the wall just outside of the bars that separated him and Cloud.
The higher-pitched hum that had been so prevalent suddenly dropped from reality. The brown packet the youth had held was pushed between the bars, falling lifelessly to the ground and bouncing once. The canteen bounced on the floor next before the young man pressed that button with an audible click and the hum was reinstituted.
Cloud looked at the brown packet on the ground, his eyes narrowed as his brain whimpered in gut-stirring anticipation. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he had a vague idea. If his vague idea struck true and the packet was in fact similar to what he'd experienced back during his grunt days with the Shin-Ra infantry, the 'Meal Ready to Eat' wasn't going to sit well.
Still, his stomach kindly informed him that it was empty and he was required to fill it. Crawling as carefully off of his blanket covered bench as he could, he slithered towards the brown packet and examined it.
He had no idea what an enchilada was, but he wasn't a fan of the variety that was inside of his packet. Even once warmed by the heat-generating pouch contained within that all-inclusive package, it wasn't overly delicious.
"Isn't there anything else?" Cloud quietly groaned.
"Sorry. Under orders to give you two a day of any variety. No substitutions. If you don't eat it, you get a meal cut out until reinstituted by my superiors."
Sighing softly, Cloud ate his meal.
Time passed slowly. The guards changed out, the next man slightly older and brunet with dark eyes that looked upon Cloud without an inkling of caring. He received a breakfast of pot roast.
Soon, Cloud was counting his days in MREs. From what he could deduce he'd been conscious for three days. His body was slowly but surely mending itself, the pain that would send him to the floor every time he attempted to rise from his bench and meander towards his offered canteen of water and dropped packet of what narrowly passed as food fading to a tolerable level. He could now crawl onto the bench that served him as a bed without tears leaping from his eyes. He could actually stand at the toilet to use it. Changing his papery boxers each morning wasn't a trial in torture endurance.
On the forth day, another person outside of the two guards Cloud had grown accustomed to seeing entered the brig.
Letting his gaze rove over the newest stranger, Cloud felt his mind languidly determine that at least this person was very, very easy on the eyes. He also felt his mind kick itself, coarsely snarling that it had simply been far too long since he'd last held Tifa in his arms and enjoyed her company that he would come to such a conclusion about his newest visitor.
The man stood tall, his posture casual and languid, legs clad in tight black jeans and soft, tan suede chaps carrying him with ease to Cloud's cell. Long fingers, free of any gloves unlike their adjoining hands, gripped the fluffy collar of the long tan trench coat that rested on broad shoulders, lifting it away and tossing it without care onto the nearby table. The black hat that rested atop soft, wavy auburn hair joined that coat moments later and fingers dragged their way through bangs to lift them momentarily away from a smooth brow.
Cloud stared with widened eyes as the man turned lightly, the long tail of auburn hair trailing down between his shoulder blades sparking instantaneous recognition.
This was the man who'd watched the battle between Cloud and that martial artist he'd called 'Zell.' The man who'd escaped Cloud's notice until he'd revealed himself with his concerned shout to the downed tattooed blond.
The man smiled, his long lips twisting with little to no malice. When he spoke, his soft voice colored by a drawl Cloud could in no way place, the thick baritone put Cloud oddly at ease.
"Mind leavin' us for a bit?" the man asked the guard.
"Certainly, sir," the guard replied, stepping quickly out of the room. The tall stranger took a few moments to lock it behind the youth who'd left them before returning to the bars that separated him from the prisoner.
"How'd'ya do?" he casually greeted. "Irvine Kinneas."
Staring, Cloud's mouth moved of his own accord. "Cloud Strife," he stated quietly.
"Heard as much," Irvine said with a slight smile. "Mind if I ask you a few questions, Cloud? Don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you?"
Cloud shook his head. No, he didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.
With a nod, the auburn-haired man grinned. "No worries, Cloud. I'm not as gung-ho as Selphie to get revenge for our friends. Not that I'm not aimin' for such, mind you – I just like to keep a level head about things instead of jumpin' to conclusions."
Slumping forward, barely keeping his tenuous perch on his bench, Cloud huffed. "I wish I knew what I was being held for."
"Well right now you're being held for unauthorized entry onto Garden property. That and your unwarranted attack on SeeD personnel."
Cloud blinked wildly, turning his gaze to the man beyond the bars. "Unwarranted…?"
"He gave you an opportunity to surrender. Don't forget," Irvine stated calmly, tapping beside his right eye with a long finger. "Eye witnesses. Plus we've got video to back it up."
Scowling, Cloud huffed softly. "Got it. But… unauthorized entry? I don't even know how I got here."
Leaning forward, hands on his hips, Irvine frowned. "Well, if you wouldn't mind explaining what you were up to prior to showing up in the central lobby, that'd be fantastic."
Cloud blinked slowly. He was actually being afforded the opportunity to explain himself…?
Seeing no harm in revealing everything he knew, he shrugged. "Fine. I was investigating North Crater. Reno wouldn't carry his equipment to the bottom. He enlisted my aid to put some sort of monitoring device near the source of the new disturbances there."
"North Crater?" Irvine echoed, his tone questioning.
"Yeah. I guess Reno was depending on my strength to heft his equipment down to the bottom of it."
"Huh," Irvine muttered, scratching his chin. "Interesting story there, Cloud. So you went into this crater. Then what?"
Cloud hung his head. "I was caught in some burst of energy. The energy I'd set up equipment to monitor was unstable, flickering irregularly, I guess. I got snagged in a flare of it. Felt like I was being swept into space; you know, no air, so cold you feel like your insides are freezing?" Seeing the auburn-haired man slowly nod, Cloud sighed. "Then there was warmth and air, and I opened my eyes to find myself in that lobby place your friend fought me in."
Settling his weight onto his right foot, Irvine frowned and looped his thumbs into his jeans' belt loops. "I see. Caught in an energy burst and brought right into our Garden. Seems a bit far-fetched, don't'cha think?"
"I know it does, but that's what happened," Cloud emphatically stated with as much energy as he could muster.
"So… you were never in Timber."
Scowling, Cloud grumbled. "I didn't know 'Timber' was a place. I always thought it was a term lumberjacks use to warn people of falling trees."
"Funny that. The initial samples we tested from you indicate you're the guy from Timber. Blood matched pretty eerily close, Cloud."
"Blood?" Cloud questioned, staring with nothing but utter confusion lighting his eyes at Irvine.
"Samples the Doctor drew from you to ensure you weren't diseased. She ran a basic panel comparing it to what was all over our buddy's weapon. Matched up real decent-like, I must say. So if you weren't the guy in Timber, then maybe a relative?"
Rubbing his head, a headache derived of confusion compounded with the pain of sitting upright and the dull thrum of healing injuries seeping up his spine to squeeze his brain, Cloud groaned. "I… have no idea what you're talking about. Really. Match…? Samples?"
"Yup," Irvine casually replied, shifting his weight to his left foot and cocking his hips. "Doc was curious as to how you could've lived through what Zell put you through, much less actually start heal."
Cloud felt a shiver pour through his veins.
"Found some interesting stuff in your veins, Cloud," Irvine calmly stated, his amethyst eyes flat and cool as his friendly smile faded away. "Stuff that's also in the samples we got from our friend's encounter. It's not exactly a naturally occurring substance 'round these parts, partner."
"Mako… isn't natural here?" Cloud softly whispered.
"Whatever you call it, it's something even the Estharian scientists are befuddled over. Sent 'em a sample when you first went down. They've been milling over it and sending us questions ever since."
Frowning, Cloud shook his head. "I…"
"Look, I know you likely can't offer me any explanations. Hell, you can't even explain how you bypassed Garden security. Doubt you can explain how you could supercede Zell without any aid from junctions." Crossing his arms, Irvine sighed. "I just wanna ensure what we're getting from you is truth – anyone can make up anything, you know. So I'm gonna leave you now. We'll just see later if any details of your story change."
"And you're still going to hold me here?" Cloud snorted.
Arching a brow, Irvine chuckled. "You still aren't authorized for entry to Balamb Garden, my friend. What do you expect, intentionally or unintentionally breaking into a military institution? Friendly accommodations? Maybe a few junctions to accompany a plush bed and warm suite? Sorry, but things don't quite function that way in the real world."
Hanging his head, Cloud sighed softly.
"Just be grateful that Zell pulled through, Cloud. If Doc K hadn't managed to shock his heart back into runnin', you'd be here for murder, too."
Cloud's breath screeched to a halt, his eyes springing wide open and focusing their panicked gaze on Irvine. "Murder…?"
Offering Cloud a condescending wink, the man's long lips curled into a cruel smile. "Yup. Collapsed the second he handed his junctions over and the adrenaline high finally kicked off. Kid flat-lined twice before we got him stabilized. You were flat-lined period, but managed to get your own ticker started by some mysterious miracle we're still trying to figure out."
"I… didn't mean…" Cloud lamely whispered. "Things got out of hand."
"I'll say. Doc's going to be down soon to draw more samples. She wants to run a full panel on you before the Commander decides what he wants done with you. Sit tight, will ya'?"
Bowing his head, Cloud laced his fingers together, shame coloring his cheeks and his bringing moisture to his eyes.
He didn't have any clue as to why he was here, as to what had brought him into this strange place. He didn't understand who he was accused of being and what that person had done to so draw the wrath and ire of everyone around him.
But he did understand one thing – his fate rested in the hands of those whose friend he'd nearly slaughtered.
Cloud swallowed a heavy lump of apprehension as the auburn-haired, tall man and his nighttime guard swapped stations and the door closed again with a reverberating clang.
He was most certainly doomed.
-to be continued-