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 9
The Setting Sun
I… feel numb.
I know I need to write this.
For this moment, I remember everything clearly.
While I'm certain that this is something Eden will allow me… no, force me… to remember for the rest of my life, I need to write it. I need to make sense of it.
Not that, really. He's right. I need to write this for another reason.
I need to feel something tangible. Something real.
Even though he was here, I can't feel anything. His words weren't kind. He charged me with what happened. He's holding me responsible for his loss. I can't blame him at all. I can't be angry about his words. I couldn't even fire back with what happened. All I could do was to stare at the ceiling and listen. Not even his tears moved me.
At least he could cry. I haven't been able to.
It should have stirred something within me. To see a great man like him at the side of my bed, on his knees, his arms crossed on strikingly white sheets and his broad shoulders heaving as he hid his eyes within the fabric that covered his body, his nose pressed into the crook of his elbow as broken sobs rattled his frame.
I saw him age at my bedside. I saw years pile onto his face and his eyes. I saw his broken heart bring any vitality he might have possessed to an end, the emptiness of a life now bereft of all those he'd loved overpowering him. But I couldn't feel anything besides numb.
Even when he'd laid his hand upon the animal's head and that creature obediently followed him out of my room without sparing me a glance, nothing stirred within my chest. I know I should have felt something. Especially then.
Betrayal at the least. Debilitating sadness most likely. Rage, maybe. But nothing would come to me.
When she came in, her hair indeed featuring pink tips and her rings in fact making soft jingling sounds when she walked, she screamed at me. Tears marred her makeup and dragged black trails down her cheeks. She cried about how far everything was along, how much was already done, how everything was for naught now. She screeched about how with my failure, everything had been brought to an end. She professed that I shouldn't be in the bed I inhabited. That I should have swapped places with the focal point of her screams.
All I could think was 'who are you and why do I care?'
I know who she was. But her reaction, her screaming, her crying and sobbing and carrying on, didn't make anything within me stir.
It's because this is a dream.
It has to be a dream.
No matter how real it is. No matter that the general's sharing it. No matter that she's been here and screamed about it. It has to be a dream.
Because…
There's no way I could fail like this.
There's no way this could happen.
There's no way my head could be so silent, my heart so empty.
Irvine's here now.
He's put my adjustable bed back, seated himself at the head of it and is forcing me to use his chest as my incline board. It's uncomfortable.
I can't tell him that, though.
Something inside of me professes that I have no right to complain.
He's been petting my hair, his own long ponytail draping over my shoulder and smelling like strawberries.
Like her.
He'd told me he'd come as quickly as he could when Garden got the call from the hospital I'm in – Quistis had her hands full filling the void I'd left behind when I left Garden to visit Trabia and Zell and Selphie had taken the Ragnorok to get the team I'd appointed to go to Trabia up to the northern reaches, so he'd come on his own. He'd told me that the Swordfish he'd used to reach the closest chocobo forest to Balamb would need to be picked up, his tone light as he tried to elicit a laugh out of me.
I… couldn't laugh.
Not even at the thought of Irvine riding to Delling at full-bore on the back of a wild chocobo.
He'd given me my journal. He told me to write everything down. He said that it might help if I wrote everything down. And now he's holding me, petting my hair.
I… can't even think about where to begin.
I can't think at all. It's hard.
I guess I'll just go with Obel Lake. Because all the encounters before that don't matter.
I don't know why I thought to search there. It just felt… right.
Something within me knew that the creature would be there. Because I was hunting him. He would be there.
I know that makes no sense. But it's how I feel.
While he'd been traveling Timber to search for people to errantly slaughter and towns to set on fire, he'd been keeping himself around Obel Lake. I don't know why anyone would do that.
Maybe it has something to do with the energy there. I can't bring myself to even ponder it right now.
I can't.
But my instincts were right. We went to Obel and he was waiting there when we got out of the car.
What he said…
He was looking for someone to be a vessel. Someone to carry his mother.
Someone worthy to contain her power. Someone capable of wielding it.
I knew he meant her. I was going to defend her.
His eyes glowed with some alien light when he looked at me. It was light like the light that pours into Obel Lake. That sickly stream that followed the ruby dragon I had Eden hurl across space and drag back to the world.
He'd brandished a sword at me with a smirk. I remember she fell back and I drew my gunblade. Angelo even came to my side – the mutt realized the threat, I think.
I remember shooing the dog back to her before he sprang at me.
He'd hit harder than anyone I've ever faced. Even Seifer. Especially Seifer.
I… can't write much about the battle. It was nothing but a blur of chaos.
Chaos and a ton of pain.
He'd gotten a few lucky blows – a stab into my bicep on my lagging arm as he attempted to punch through my defenses and very nearly succeeded. A slice at my leading arm that still aches to this moment. A cut across my back when I was side-stepping a jab and turned a bit too far. A good cut on my left shin. A far-too-close scrape on my collarbone.
But I'd gotten my hits in, too. The long sword he had was a disadvantage when faced off with a gunblade. Once I triggered on it, he could barely handle his weapon much less recover himself quickly enough to face off with me and take the offensive again.
I remember him being fast. Incredibly fast. Inhumanly fast. And strong.
He hit like someone who was junctioned. Junctioned big-time. Because no one hits that hard without junctions.
He moved like someone junctioned, too. I found it hard to keep up.
I guess I might have been lucky to get the hits I did. Because after I got him quite solidly on the thigh when he was mid-leap, he somehow took to the air.
He was bypassing me. He was targeting her.
Angelo had growled and barked. I leapt for her.
She spread her wings. He recoiled right off her hasty Protect spell, the force of his swing propelling him away.
I remember him laughing.
He said he'd found someone worthy.
Then why….
Why would….
Because he'd attacked.
When I'd swung, he sacrificed his right arm to my gunblade. The warmth of his blood and the sharp cuts of bone flying into my face are something I can still feel.
He…
He…
It went right through me.
Rinoa, why were you standing right behind me?
Why didn't you flee to safety when you had the chance?
He pushed his sword right through me and hefted me off the ground so he could run her through, piercing her heart.
When he withdrew his sword with a wild slicing sweep I… I couldn't move. I hit the ground feet away from her and couldn't move.
I couldn't feel anything at all. And she…
She laid perfectly still.
He was laughing. The green glow from Obel Lake was laughing too as it drenched him in its color. As it snaked towards us.
I tried to cover her with myself. I really couldn't move. My legs refused to respond. My intestines were getting tangled around me as they spilled out of me.
She looked at me with her eyes flooded with pain.
Her face was so pale, her lips so blue….
She asked me to live.
She asked me to keep them from getting her power.
I… I tried to reach her… to hold her…
Oh God, I tried.
When I touched her, her body was so cold.
Her hands were so frozen as she held me.
I… she… asked me…
She asked me to let her die. So they couldn't harness her sorcery.
How could I? I… I can't.
I tried to tell her no… I tried to tell her that everything would be fine… that someone would find us and everything would be okay.
She smiled at me even as that soft purple glow of power seeped from her.
I begged her to stay with me… to be with me… I cried for her to stay with me.
I cried that I love her. That I'll always love her. That I can't live without her.
She…
I…
Rinoa… please, God, no.
Please let this be a dream.
Please, God…
I… can't do this anymore.
All that's in my head are my own thoughts. Her feelings are gone, silenced and missing.
I can't do this anymore. I can't go on.
My heart is crying with misery.
All I can see is tears.
Cloud sighed as he stared at the entrance to the room he was in.
Once again, he was a prisoner.
It had been two days now since he'd been resituated following the battle with the monstrosity he still had no name for. The Garden's drunken sway, certainly a result of the massive damage it had taken when nearly capsized by the creature they'd faced off with, had finally terminated – either the pilot they had was excellent beyond belief, or the vessel itself was docked in port and no longer moving. As the level stance of the massive mobile base was a constant throughout the day and Cloud knew of no human who could stand a diligent watch for over thirteen hours, he suspected the later.
Rather than the brig, he'd been taken to a holding area on the 'ground' level of the Garden, a place stationed at the termination of a hallway marked with a huge purple arrow. While the room he was in appeared to be open and hospitable, the blond knew such to be far from the truth – the make-shift cell featured yet another of those horribly powerful force fields. His sensitive hearing could pick up the delicate hum of electrical relays hard at work to produce it.
Still, his situation wasn't such that it derived exacerbation or frustration from him. After all, this particular span of imprisonment featured much more palatable food, clothing and a cot to sleep on. He had a smidgeon more room to move around in as well without coming close to the force field he now had a very healthy respect for, which suited him fine.
Rather than MREs, he was now dining on bland though not entirely tasteless meals of mashed starch products they called russet potatoes, processed meats covered in gravy that suffered from not having nearly enough salt to make it flavorful and a weird jiggling substance dubbed 'Jell-O.' It was food designed to not upset a delicate digestive track, to go down easily and be easily digested rather than excite the palate and be found enjoyable. Still, to Cloud, it was delicious and wholesome compared to his faire over the last two weeks plus change onboard the mobile Garden he was still imprisoned on.
It had been barely an hour after he'd been brought to his new cell that he'd been provided with clothing. The source of that clothing had shocked Cloud to the depths of his core, though.
The blond martial artist he'd faced with, the boy he'd heard called 'Zell' by Irvine, had come in to check on him and Squall. He'd frowned when he'd realized Cloud's state of undress, his recyclable paper boxer shorts having suffered terribly from their induction into the ocean and barely managing to preserve his questionable dignity. Zell had swiftly left, his lips carrying an impish smirk and a promise to be back shortly – certainly enough, the martial artist jogged back into the area and petitioned one of the guards stationed outside of Cloud's newest enclosure to lower the force field so he could hand over clothing.
It fit him well enough, the blue jeans just a touch short in the leg and a little snug around the waist though not uncomfortably so, the white short-sleeved shirt larger than he'd like and billowing around him, the white socks a tad small but warm. A redundant set of the same had been handed over along with a promise that laundry would be done daily so he could always have a clean ensemble of clothing available. He'd been given underwear that was still packaged, certainly something that was standard issue to new recruits and pulled out of a supply bin – while the tight fit of briefs was something that normally would induce cringing, Cloud was happy to have something fabric covering his nether regions under his newly acquired pants.
After he'd changed, Zell had requested that a cot be shoved into the room to accommodate the second individual within the room's confines as the bed was already quite taken. Cloud had barely had a moment to mutter thanks for both the consideration and the clothing that certainly had come from the martial artist's own wardrobe before the younger blond ran off, telling Cloud that he'd be back later to check on them and talk but at that moment he had important stuff to get done and the cafeteria was opening in five minutes.
Cloud wasn't bothered by the sudden departure, nor was he disturbed by the suddenness with which the two young guards in their crisp uniforms who took station outside of his room reestablished the force field that kept him imprisoned and shouldered their weapons, one a massive rifle and the other an impressively hefty pole arm.
He couldn't bring himself to worry much about his current state that, despite the decided improvements over his previous stint upon the massive mobile military instillation, was still that of an imprisoned man held due to circumstances he couldn't comprehend much less take ownership of.
He had much more important things than his incarceration to worry about.
The hum of emptiness, of hopelessness, was still laced with dread and self-depreciative loathing as it burrowed in the back of Cloud's skull, seeking refuge far away from his conscious thoughts and making every effort it seemed to remain undetected. And despite his longing to search for an explanation concerning the odd sensations that hovered within his brain, the one he suspected could answer his questions wasn't responsive.
After all, those tingling feelings within his mind were all he could assign responsibility for his reason actions to. Without those alien thoughts burrowing through him, he doubted he'd have done what he'd done.
He had rescued Squall.
A boy he hardly knew, an individual who in fact was the sole responsible faucet that continued his earlier imprisonment. He'd risked his life for the brunet soldier with his odd weapon rather than any of the young cadets who were raining into the ocean, their screams of panic and terror and pain forever haunting and resounding in newly formed memories. A youth who was soft spoken, bland, carried an air of caustic reproachful bitterness around him and commanded the respect of al around him as any officer would.
In retrospect, Cloud realized that Squall should have been the last person he would be motivated to rescue in the fiasco he'd just managed to survive. Still, the surly Commander had stolen his focus and elicited actions both illogical and reckless.
Cloud sighed quietly as his eyes drifted about the room.
He still couldn't fathom why he'd done what he'd done, but for the simple fact that the odd cry for aid in his mind had driven him. He'd willingly given in to the desire that burned in his skull to rescue the sinking Commander, saving him from certain death.
He wasn't resentful, but simply desiring an explanation. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.
He had saved Squall Leonhart, Commander of the military institution that held him captive.
And the man who he most desired to speak to, the storm-eyed youth whose image remained a fixation in his dreams and his waking imaginings, was silent at his side.
Granted, the younger man wasn't in much shape to speak with Cloud and assist him in piecing together the oddities that plagued his mind. He was sleeping soundly, his eyes closed and utter exhaustion lacing his worn features.
Squall was currently on the bed in the room they both were inhabiting, incarcerated just as he was by an enormously powerful force field and a supposed 'anti-magic field' if the whisperings of the nurses who breezed by the entryway to their domain were to be taken seriously. The young man had been rescued from death only to be locked away before he could potentially retaliate, his shaken and exhausted state following the battle with the diabolical creature that killed with its barest touch leaving him drained and incapable of escaping those who would strike against him.
Closing his eyes, Cloud drew a deep breath.
The scent disturbed him mildly, the faint sterile stench of antiseptics and medicines hovering eternally in the air of the medical ward. It reminded him vaguely of the laboratory he could only partially recall in the broken depths of his memory, when the world had first been tainted with green and he'd awakened to Jenova's alien screech in his ears and her fire in his blood.
A quick shake of his head cleared him instantly of dire recollections he in no way wished to revisit.
Rather than allowing himself to drift into a shattered past liberally laced with pain and misery, he instead reached for Squall, lifting a thin, paper-skinned hand into his own and letting the surreal chill of those fingers seep into his skin.
He let a frown turn his lips as he folded his other hand over the skinny appendage he held, chill-raised bumps seeping up his arms as he held what felt like icicled frost between his palms.
The cold sensation of Squall's skin unnerved him, to be certain. But as long as the cold persisted, the monitoring equipment with its snaking wires connecting it to the suction cups clued to the youth's body showed strong vitals and healthy activities. Even as the barest touch of the man's fingers would elicit shivers from anyone who dared to make contact with him, whatever power was drawing his heat away was rapidly healing his wounds. The massive slash that scarred his abdomen was laced completely shut, leaving naught but a vibrant line. His newest bruises from the beating he'd taken during his activities in what once was a training center onboard the Garden and the resultant release of the feminine monstrosity Cloud had watched sink into the sea were already faded to a faint yellow, the vivid purple of Cloud's own bruises barely starting to show a handful of hours after their incarceration.
While the cold of that power which seemed to be responsible for Squall's accelerated healing was beneficial to the young man's body, Cloud couldn't bring himself to find much comfort in it.
While he was cold, he was unconscious, his gray eyes hidden under heavy eyelids and his breathing slow and deep.
The Commander had been warm – heated by adrenaline, even – when Cloud had rested his bare arm across the young brunet's similarly bare back. While not searing, the pale skin had at least held enough heat to draw comfort from, a thinly veiled acceptation that the skinny body indeed held life.
For the last two days he'd been still, frigid and asleep, leaving Cloud without recourse for answers and stewing with worry alone in their room.
The whispers he'd caught from the guards during those first few turnovers of duty hadn't been of any comfort. Five pairs of guards had now stood watch outside of his door, displaying five different reactions.
The first set, the pair of youths in their wrinkled uniforms who had been caught in the chaos of the battle that had rattled their garden and assigned to escort Cloud and Squall to the medical ward by a young woman with brown hair cropped at her shoulders and smartly dressed in a uniform that resembled their save sporting color on the shoulder guards, were terrified beyond belief. They'd seen the silver wings. They'd witnessed the explosive power. They'd hidden their horror behind their weapons, trying to stand brave and strong to defend themselves and their comrades against a perceived threat despite their quaking shivering. The young men hadn't said much, their voices stolen by fear as they stood a crisp guard outside of the room Cloud had been shuffled in to, their stances only relaxing once a woman with a rather stocky build that everyone simply referred to as "Dr. K" had helped Cloud lift his burden onto the bed, established her monitoring equipment and stepped free of the room, allowing the murderous electric force field to finally be established.
A girl and boy had relieved them, their faces drained as they'd peered into the room. They'd whispered to one another during their stint at guard duty, Cloud's perceptive hearing easily able to pick up on their secretive murmurings. Those two couldn't believe that their Commander was something called a Sorcerer. The girl expressed sorrow and regret. The boy professed that being a Sorcerer simply meant their Commander was even more awesome than he had been before. When Cloud had inquired as to what a Sorcerer was, he'd been met by silence, the pair staring at him before turning their backs to him and standing a silent, militant watch.
The third pair that came along received Cloud's questions and eagerly answered them, much to Cloud's entertainment. He was certain they were not supposed to be speaking to prisoners – when he'd asked them if they were breeching any rules or regulations concerning such, one of the two men had laughed and asked who was going to reprimand them as their Commander was currently laid up.
He'd learned that Sorcerers were the scourge of the planet, responsible throughout time for ravaging civilizations and tearing down nations. Supposed recipients of a dark deity's power, they were humans who could do magic far above and beyond what any person could do without the aid of a Guardian Force – in some cases recorded through history, they could even exceed the paramagic wielded by the Guardian Forces themselves.
Harbingers of doom and chaos, Sorcerers had been hunted through history, many who assume their powers staying hidden from the prying eyes of society for fear of persecution. Those who had made themselves known had done so in spectacular fashion, wrenching entire domains under their control and ruling with iron fists until suppressed by stupendous, superhuman effort.
Cloud could hardly believe the pairs' boasts that SeeD had put down a Sorceress from the future just before she'd managed to compress all time to one singularity and thus end existence itself. However, they assured him that it was true, that the boy on the bed had been the SeeD to lead the team that time traveled to meet the dreaded Sorceress Ultimecia, and that the terror of Sorcery was indeed so vast and inhuman as to encompass control of time itself.
While Cloud couldn't fully understand the impact of what they were professing nor the incredible threat Sorcery seemed to present to the very world itself, he could recognize that perhaps these people had a reason to be fearful. What magical prowess Squall had displayed was, in fact, so far beyond anything he'd ever witnessed in his life that it rattled even him to the core.
The forth pair had picked up where the third had left off, their more colored uniforms he'd come to learn designating them as graduated SeeD personnel. They were field mercenaries who had volunteered to take some of the guard load off of the cadets so they could effectively study.
Both young women, armed with simple swords whose worn hilts spoke of multitudes of battles despite their wielders' youthful appearances, gave off a stern and confident aura. However, they quickly dispersed with the hardened appearance and cordially entertained Cloud's continued request for information.
From them, he'd learned that SeeD had one defined purpose – to destroy Sorceresses who would threaten the world.
The Garden had been birthed to grow the SeeDs of hope that would lead the world to an era of peace, free from the fear that Sorcery would bring to it, free of the strife that always followed on a prominent Sorceress' heels.
It was then that Cloud understood why he and Squall were sharing their incarceration – the young Commander had apparently revealed that he was in fact the enemy.
However, the Garden was in turmoil, Cloud learned.
There were many whispered desires for the Sorcerer to be terminated while he was weak. Many of the cadets upon the Garden were terrified, the tales of history woven into their minds and hearts and suddenly bursting into reality with frightening power. Even some of the seasoned SeeDs who had managed to blunder their way through a recent 'Sorceress War' Cloud had no knowledge of were questioning if that would indeed be the best course of action.
Many others, however, were more loyal to the Commander than to the ideals of the Garden itself.
The young ladies who guarded their cell reassured Cloud that they were in fact a part of the second faction of Garden. That if push came to shove and Garden were to attempt to terminate the newest Sorcerer to show prominence, they would abandon the establishment to support him and aid in his escape.
When Cloud had whispered to them to keep their voices down else they risked military discipline or possible expulsion, they'd laughed outright, stating that the security cameras in the medical ward were disabled, the nurses on duty had been hand selected to ensure their loyalty to the Commander wouldn't waver and they'd provide proper medical care, and that the guards who were rotating through the ward all felt the same as they. The shorter of the two women had granted Cloud a casual wink, professing that the only reason a force field and anti-magic field had been established at all was owing to their lacking confidence pertaining to Squall's mood when he eventually awakened – once he told them he wouldn't kill any of them, it would instantly be dropped.
The fifth batch that came in, stern and quiet with their rifle and pole arm, hadn't bothered speaking to Cloud. However, he couldn't bring himself to feel any anxiety about them – the assurance granted to him by the pair who had stationed themselves outside of the room he and Squall were sharing earlier had delivered a considerable amount of comfort to his heart.
Suddenly the two outside of Cloud's cell instantly readied their weapons, one of them sternly barking an order to stop while the other roared out 'What are you doing here?'
Nervous energy jumping into his throat, Cloud shimmied as close to the force field as he dared, staring at the commotion outside.
The sensations in the base of his brain didn't fluctuate at all as if detached in every way from the happenings of the waking world. Squall himself didn't stir upon his bed, the drug-induced sleep he resided in while recovering from his ordeal deep enough to allow him to ignore the disturbances ringing through the medical ward.
The lack of response from those excess emotions within Cloud's mind didn't change his determination, though. Somewhere within him rose the desire to defend himself and defend the other man in the room. Regardless of not having an available weapon, he was determined to at least get between the defenseless man on the bed and the apparent threat that had motivated those guards dedicated to his well-being to ready their arms.
"Woah, woah! Take it easy, guys," a bright and energetic voice called. "Stand down."
The youth with his pole arm snarled viciously, his teeth grit with determination and hate. "Mr. Dincht, you can't seriously be-"
"He's here by my invitation," the tattooed blond quickly interrupted. "So yeah, I'm seriously suggesting you stand down."
"By your invite?" the rifleman gasped, even as Cloud tried vainly to see past his guards and catch a glimpse of what was occurring.
"Yup. So if you two don't mind, will you come with me for a few? We need to keep this door secure. Don't want any unwanted visitors."
"You ask me, we've already got one," the rifleman muttered even as Zell flashed him a queasy grin.
Cloud cleared his throat lightly. He frowned as his two guards ignored him.
"C'mon," Zell murmured moments later. "Just trust me on this one! Cloud… he needs to talk to this guy."
Straightening his stance, the young man with his pole arm lifted one hand from his weapon and rubbed his temple with a scowl coloring his face. "Wait, wait. So you mean to say that you brought this guy here to talk with our prisoner? For what reason?"
"Because he needs to talk to this guy!" Zell protested.
"Shit, Chickenwuss, I wouldn't listen to your lame ass if I was in their shoes. Why don't you just come out and tell us all what your empty head dreamed up?" a new voice inserted into the verbal fray.
Cloud felt his teeth grit, instinctual anger coloring his senses.
That voice, so haughty and arrogant, deep and powerful and exuding confidence, grated on his every last nerve.
Given the bristling of every other person in the room and the snarling of the martial artist that was still blocked from Cloud's view accompanied by a sharp growl commanding that the owner of that deep and burly voice not call him 'Chickenwuss,' Cloud assumed the man behind that statement wasn't one who garnered many fans onboard the Garden. Even with that one statement, Cloud decided, he certainly didn't have a fan in Cloud Strife.
Cloud found it almost disappointing that the tingle of foreign emotions that rested within him didn't respond at all to the new stimulus in the room – he was keenly interested in what the comatose brunet would feel about the interloper.
"So out with it," the intruder growled.
"Fine. I just have a nagging suspicion that I know what's going on with Squall and Cloud."
"Someone named their kid Cloud? Classy."
"Seifer-" Zell growled viciously.
"Well, lemme see him. I can't wait to rub all this shit in his face," the stranger Cloud had yet to see interrupted with a rude snort. "Stand aside, nublets."
"Sir…" the rifleman quietly protested.
"Let's get to the door," Zell ordered.
Cloud let his eyes narrowed as both of his guards bristled, gripping their weapons and moving to meet with the shorter martial artist.
With them no longer blocking his view and joining with Zell to guard the door, Cloud could finally see who had set his nerves on edge.
The man was large, easily as tall as Irvine but considerably more broad in the shoulders. A white trench coat, lightly discolored by age and dust, hung over his strong and imposing frame, red crosses on each sleeve standing in stark contrast to its countenance. Black pants, boots and a like-colored vest covered the rest of him. Blond hair, shortly cropped and slicked back along his skull, topped a strong-chinned face with cold, piercing blue eyes parted by a vicious dark scar and held aloft by a cruel smirk.
Cloud's guts twisted. He immediately didn't like this individual.
He reminded him strongly of Reno. Perhaps not in mania or in murderous intent, but the cockiness, the confidence, the arrogance, the playfully projected dominance and the openly-displayed show of superiority over all around him were perfectly replicated.
When the man glanced over at the prone figure lying on the cold white hospital bed with machinery snaking from its sickly, pale flesh, he snorted. "Dumb fuck. You fail that badly, and don't even have the common courtesy to be conscious so I can ridicule you properly?"
Cloud immediately filed the nameless man into his list of 'most despicable people he's ever known,' right below Reno and somewhere above Rufus.
"And you. What the hell are you doing in there with him?"
Realizing he was being spoken to, Cloud scowled. "What business is it of yours?"
"Apparently every bit my business, according to Chickenwuss over there."
Ignoring the protesting shout of 'HEY!' from the door, Cloud let his scowl deepen. "And you are?"
Huffing in disbelief, the taller blond drew his shoulders back and stared at Cloud down the length of his nose, his eyes narrowing to crinkle the scar that slashed between them. "What rock have you been buried under for the last year?"
"One that's not knowledgeable concerning nobodies like you."
Cloud refused to allow his almost childish glee at garnering a hearty bristle and scowl from the stranger to show on his face.
"Hmph," the interloper snorted. "You wanna play this game? Fine. I have nothing to say to you."
Zell glowered into the room. While Cloud felt his eyes unconsciously widen, the memory of his recent beat-down fresh and unmarred, the stranger on the other side of the enormously powerful force field grunted before he crossed his arms.
"Fine. Seifer. But that's all you're gonna get," the huge blond menace grumbled.
Nodding once, Cloud sighed. "Cloud. Now explain what you meant with your statement."
"I don't have to explain shit to-"
A harshly cleared throat and a gesture of a thumb across a throat from the blond martial artist drew a grimace from Seifer's lips. After a short mutter about somebody having his panties in a twist and how he'd smash the little Chickenwuss into putty if only he had something called a Hyperion at his side accompanied by a lamentation about being an escorted visitor and how the rules requiring him to leave his weapon at the gate were retarded, the man grumbled. "He failed."
"And you mean…?" Cloud questioned, arching a brow.
"How damned dense are you concerning world events?" Seifer snorted, disbelief coloring his voice. "Don't you know who he is? What he was?"
"No, not really."
Holding his head, Seifer groaned. "Shit. So not only does Squall botch everything, he picks up this lame-ass loser."
Rolling his eyes, Cloud sat down on the floor before the force field. "So if you're so all-knowing, why don't you explain things to me?"
"Don't know if I can simplify it enough," Seifer snorted before he sat down across from Cloud, his legs crossed before him and his elbows resting on his knees. Pressing his chin into his folded hands, he grunted. "Know anything about Sorceresses?"
"Some," Cloud honestly replied, his posture instantly and unintentionally mimicking that of the broader blond opposing him. "I know what they've done throughout history. I know what they seem to be capable of. But I don't see what that has to do with Squall's apparent failure."
"Know anything about Knights?" Seifer blandly questioned, his face quizzically blank.
Cloud blinked rapidly. "Knights…?"
"So 'no.' Got'cha."
Rubbing his temple, Cloud huffed, his irritation with his visitor rising to phenomenal levels. "So…."
"Knights are supposed to defend their Sorceresses. Make sure they stay safe."
"Seems silly, given how much power these Sorceresses are supposed to have," Cloud quietly observed.
Clearing his throat, his arrogance and cynicism seeming to melt away, Seifer frowned. "Seems that way. But that power comes with a price."
"Price?"
"Yeah," he continued, his eyes drifting shut and the scar between them collapsing in as his brow harshly furrowed. "The humanity of the Sorceress. Think about it – she's channeling a God. A being of power far beyond anything we can understand. The more she touches that power, the less human she becomes. And the less human she becomes, the more dangerous she is."
Cloud's eyes widened a touch. "So… the Knight is there to make sure the Sorceress doesn't use any magic?"
"More than that. He's not just a shield – he's her foundation. He keeps her stable, keeps her human."
Leaning back, using a hand to brace himself upright, Cloud let his lips turn with a small frown. "What do you mean, 'keeps her stable?' I don't really…."
Seifer snorted, his eyes opening a touch to glower at Cloud. "I mean that he's supposed to keep her rooted in Time. Thing is, Sorceresses can see through Time. Past, Present, Future. Everything. They can look all they want. But they can't project themselves there – that was Elone's power. But I think explaining how Time Compression was supposed to work and how Ultimecia was going to accomplish it isn't exactly the conversation for here and now."
Sighing, Cloud shrugged.
Rolling his eyes once, Seifer grumbled. "Fucking retard. Anyway. Can you imagine being able to see throughout time? How is the human mind supposed to comprehend where it belongs? When it belongs? How's the human mind supposed to realize that the Past is past, the Future isn't decided and the Present is where it belongs? How's she supposed to know that the Past can't be altered? That the Future isn't set in stone? That violent action's not always required to mold the future that she sees?"
Cloud's eyes widened, understanding beginning to wash over him. "Because a Sorceress can see through time, they garner the desire to change it… because they know what's going to happen…?"
"Because they've seen the past and they can look into the future. Looking into the past, they can see all the strife that humans have put Sorceresses through. They can see the burnings, the witch-hunts, the suppression, the murders. They can see the dark future that awaits their kind, days where they're still repressed and expelled from society like monsters. And that's typically what drives them mad."
Quirking a brow, Cloud frowned. "How do you know all of this?"
"Because my Sorceress' connection with me let me know her fears."
Cloud's eyes sprang open, his jaw unhinging and hanging slack. "You…?"
"I was the Sorceress' Knight. Edea, when she was controlled by Ultimecia herself."
Speechless, Cloud lifted a hand and gestured, wishing for Seifer to continue.
With a snort, the broad blond shook his head. "A Knight… is supposed to keep his Sorceress human. He's supposed to keep her rooted in the present. And above all, he's supposed to keep her safe. And that one right there's where Puberty-Boy over there failed miserably."
"What?" Cloud lamely asked, stirring slightly to cast his glance over to Squall.
"He didn't keep her safe. Picked up the newspaper and saw the obituary her father ran."
Cloud stared as Seifer's eyes narrowed, hate burning in their depths.
"Idiot. Your first order of business when you're a Knight is to give everything for your Sorceress. What happened to you is fitting," Seifer snarled towards the bed in the chamber Cloud occupied.
Cloud was about to ask what he meant when Seifer simply continued on a miniature tirade. "How's it feel, Squall? Living on with her powers? Zell told me what happened! That you've picked them up! That's you're the next one! Not like I wouldn't have figured it out – huge as hell light-show with sorcery and that stupidly over-the-top Guardian Force of yours getting pummeled over the ocean and Garden comes rolling in, beat to shit and listing just a few hours later? No big mystery there. Hope you enjoy being scorned by humanity. And hope you love living on with her death rubbing itself in your face everyday. Welcome to not being able to die unless someone sucks away your powers, like you did to her."
Instantly on his feet, Cloud snarled as he barely restrained himself from lunging at the force field that separated him. "Shut. Up," he quietly growled, his eyes burning, green tainting his vision and fire beginning to heat his blood.
Seifer's face lit with a twisted sneer. "So you answered the call, huh?"
"What call?" Cloud bit, his patience wearing thin, his teeth grit.
"'What call,' he asks," Seifer chuckled cruelly.
"Answer me!" Cloud hissed.
"To be a Knight, you simpleton."
Cloud's anger instantly simmered, his gaze dazed and confused.
Shrugging, Seifer smirked. "I always dreamed of being a Knight in shining armor for someone. About being a hero. And… at the time… I guess I wanted the world to see me as someone great. As… a grown-up who could do anything. She presented me with that chance. When her Sorcery touched me, I responded to it readily – I recognized that my opportunity to realize my dream had come, and I willingly became her Knight."
"So… you volunteered?"
"Every Knight volunteers," Seifer said with a shrug. "Doesn't matter if you're conscious of that fact or not, you were willing to do it, and now you're saddled with it until you die. Or until your Sorcerer releases you. So I ask again. You answered the call?"
"I… don't know."
"You feel him in your heart? In your mind?"
Cloud's eyes, widen and disbelieving, stared at his own feet as he stood before the force field.
The alien emotions within him, still so hopeless and self-depreciating, remained still and buried in his heart.
Those sensations, not overbearing or oppressive as Jenova's were and easily segregated from the destructive beast's acid hate, that hid so shyly within his mind and rested without any desire to drive Cloud's actions against his own will.
Squall's touch.
Squall's call.
He'd… responded to Squall's cry for aid.
Before that moment, he'd responded to Squall's helplessness when it came to dealing with the interloper who he'd battled in Timber.
When he'd first offered his aid without thought to his own imprisonment, when he'd first volunteered his services without bartering for freedom or reconstitution for his suffering, when he'd first felt the stir of those alien emotions within him and found them comfortably enjoyable rather than sinister and loathsome.
"I… do," Cloud finally confessed.
Seifer snorted. "Why the hell would'ja answer that brat's call?" he grumbled.
"Because he needed my help," Cloud softly muttered, his vocalization more for his own ears than any others. "Because… I've always failed those I've tried to defend. Tifa. Aerith. Everyone."
"And you thought you'd be able to succeed this time?"
"No," Cloud bit, startled back to cognizant awareness of who was listening. "Because he needs me. More than anyone else, he actually needs me."
Exhaling slowly, Seifer shook his head and rose to his feet. "Well, 'least now you know what you've gotta do. Maybe you'll do a better job than the last Sorceress' Knight did."
Gritting his teeth, Cloud glowered at the huge man as he towered over him, his fists clenched at his sides.
Turning on his heel, Seifer strode with every ounce of confidence he oozed towards the door. "Tell me when that putz regains consciousness. Puberty-Boy and I gotta have a few words."
"Yeah, sure," Zell snorted from the door, even as he told the two guards to escort Seifer to the main gate and make sure he didn't come back in.
Once the three had departed, the tattooed martial artist walked in, the bounce he normally sported gone from his step and his fists shoved in the pockets of his oversized jean shorts. "So… I guess my suspicions were right."
"He's… a Sorcerer. I can accept that, given what I saw when we faced off with that monster," Cloud softly surmised. "But I'm his Knight…? Why would he choose me? Why would he even call to me?"
"I don't know, to be honest," Zell muttered with a shrug. "But… actually, I'm kind of glad he did."
"You are?" Cloud huffed, glancing over to Zell with disbelief in his eyes.
"Yeah. Thanks to you, my friend's still alive," the martial artist replied, honesty coloring his voice and his face. "And if you're really his Knight… I'm hoping you'll keep him that way."
His words stolen by the youth's sincerity, Cloud could only offer a shy nod as the setting sun's brilliant orange rays colored the Medical Ward.
-to be continued-
A/N: Sorry the first part wasn't more action packed. Squall just wasn't up for it. :P (and that, ladies and gents, is why there's a tragedy rating on this fic.)