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Cloud sat at the Gainsborough dinner table uncomfortably. Aerith kept up a steady stream of cheery chatter and her mother had been surprisingly compassionate towards him, but it had been a long time since he had last eaten a meal with other people.

Or even at a table, actually.

Slowly and as carefully as he could manage he lifted the simple but pleasant smelling meal to his mouth, bite by bite. As Aerith's chatter washed over him and the warmth that exuded the humble, cheerful home lulled him into blissful contentment, Cloud's thoughts wandered.

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In the aftermath of his abrupt discharge and the imminent failure of his Shinra-supplied prosthesis, Cloud had largely given up.

However, after the first job he had acquired- he had helped a man a block from the train station jerry rig a replacement for his broken window, and the man had given him fifty gil- he had held on to the thought of still being able to send money back to his Ma like it was the only thing left for him in the entire world. The pamphlets had stressed the need for food, as his muscles were in a delicate enough state and to force his body to cannibalize them would permanently impair himself further.

So Cloud had eaten. Even though he really could not taste anything he put into his mouth and it felt more like he was attempting for force down ash than food most of the time. Cloud made sure he ate as much as he thought he should, based on his previous routine; so at least three fairly decent meals whenever possible and many mass-produced Shinra field rations from the Shinra Infantry Surplus store from his trips Above the Plate to shop.

The sole reason the Shinra Infantry Surplus store got his business was the thirty-five percent discount they gave him, due to him being a combat wounded veteran. Even with the cost of taking the train up to the store, it still saved him quite a bit of gil. Strangely, the grey warehouse-type store was more of a comfort than a trigger, despite being surrounded by reminders of Shinra and his Infantry days. The dark blue shirts and cargo pants with the brown combat boots and assorted brown belts were familiar, despite his disability.

Cloud figured it was all the practice he had had at getting up for Drill and dressing after the showers in Basic that had allowed him to be able to navigate the clothing with a decent amount of ease.

The blond had been rather daunted by the overwhelming amount of simple tasks that had ceased to be simple after his accident, and especially after the total loss of his prosthetic.

Getting dressed, showering, walking, grooming himself, shopping- all things that had been slight nuisances or maybe a little inconvenient before had suddenly transformed into monumental tasks. Hell, learning how to walk with his toolbox attached to his waist had been hellish. Suddenly trips and minor falls had become especially treacherous- especially in the first months when his stump had still been healing.

Oh, Shinra had sort of healed the outside of the wound before strapping on the prosthetic, but the deep healing took months. The phantom pains from his missing limb nearly more painful than the pain in the stump itself or from the shoddily-healed burns that spanned from his right armpit and the back of the same shoulder to his left shoulder blade.

But the need to send money home to Ma kept him going.

It made him eat even though he did not feel like he deserved to. It made him get up every morning and search out odd jobs, even though it meant talking to people after dragging his broken body through a routine that felt more akin to torture than simple morning ablutions. Slowly Cloud built up a reputation among those he did jobs for and he was able to simply go to established points of contact and pick up requests people had turned in for him instead of going door-to-door and dealing with wary, unsympathetic Slum denizens who had learned the hard way to look out for number one early on in life.

Cloud really did not blame them, though. Especially considering the fact that he lived in the Sector Eight Slums, the most lawless of all the Midgar Slums.

Truthfully Cloud would have died from one of the frequent monster attacks had Jonesy not insisted that Cloud take his trench knives as a backup weapon before they landed and everything had gone to shit.

Jonesy's trench knives were two eleven inch spring steel beasts that were made from a highly resistant combination of metals and chemically treated to be resistant to just about every type of ick that they could presumably be dirtied with. One of them had Jonesy's name engraved on it, along with his birthday. It's twin had Jonesy's lover's name engraved on it- Lem, from Third Company- along with his birthday. The sheaths had the day the two had married in Junon stamped onto them. Lem had died in an ambush three days before his retirement went through, about a year before, so Jonesy had been carrying both knives for a while. Cloud had wanted to give them to Jonsey's mom- the person who had gotten the knives for the couple- but he did not know where in Junon she lived and it was not like he could just go up to someone and ask for that information.

So Cloud had learned- though sheer determination and many near death experiences- how to fight monsters with one good arm and a couple of trench knives. The blond was certain that he was doing it wrong- like he did everything else- but he was good enough that it kept him alive and earned him a bit of extra gil as a bonus. He had had some trouble with thugs in the beginning- and more than one pimp, apparently he was still pretty enough for some of them- but he had dug deep into his Nibel heritage and had managed to limp away the victor from those encounters.

As his reputation as a handyman grew and the number of monsters near his shitty apartment dwindled, the encounters became less frequent. Though he never let his guard down. Even after he moved to the Sector Seven Slums, as most of his requests came from Sectors other than the Sector Eight Slums.

Another thing that being fixated with sending money back to his Ma helped him avoid was street drugs.

Cloud had flirted with the idea more than once during his darker moments, but the sheer practicality of the cost of a drug habit always made itself known before he could go through with his plan to try it 'just once'. He was not a saint. He had circled the known dealing locations several times during a single evening- or night, or early morning- more than once as he turned the idea over in his head and tried to block out his nightmares. In the end, though, he just could not bring more shame to his Ma. He had already failed her as a son, but at least he could send enough gil to keep her comfortable and the neighbors' mouths shut. If he took up a habit he knew the gil would dry up to feed it and he just could not bring himself to do that to her, not now.

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"-loud? Heeellllooooooo?" Aerith's hand fluttering in front of his face snapped Cloud back to the present and he flinched backwards a bit when he realized that he had been spacing out.

"Sorry." He muttered softly, looking down at his hands in shame as the tips of his ears turned bright scarlet.

Aerith huffed and poked him gently in his good shoulder until he peeked at her through his blond fringe. "I was asking if you wanted to see my church?"

"Oh, ah-" Cloud stammered, suddenly terrified of making even more of an ass out of himself in front of this pretty, sweet young woman. His breaths came a bit quicker as panic gripped his lungs as everything that could go wrong tumbled through his chaotic mind.

"Hey, it's alright." Aerith told him, bright eyes kind and patient. "But my church has flowers."

That was unexpected enough that Cloud managed to wrangle his turmoil under control a bit. "I thought flowers didn't grow in Midgar?" the end of his statement held a questioning lilt.

"Mine do!" Aerith cheered excitedly, bouncing a bit in her seat before clasping her hands settling them into her lap as she sat forward a bit. "I think you'll really like them!"

"Ah-"

"Awesome!" Aerith cheered excitedly, glancing over at her mother with a bright smile. "I'll do the dishes when I get home, ok?"

"It's fine, I'll do them tonight." Elmyra Gainsborough told her daughter with a shake of her head and, much like her daughter, ignoring Cloud's soft protests. "You go show your blond friend the church." Elmyra gave Cloud a shrewd side-glance. "He looks like he could appreciate the true worth of your sanctuary."

The Gainsborough women shared concerned, sad glances. The young man was so very obviously broken and yet he had stopped to help Aerith, despite not knowing her and had asked for nothing in return. The gesture was especially poignant in that getting down on the ground in the middle of the street had put him at risk- not to mention already having a distinct disadvantage due to his disability and the lack of a prosthetic- and yet he had still stopped; had still helped a stranger simply because he could.

That quality was so rare in the Slums there was usually a higher chance of seeing the sky itself.

Aerith gently bullied Cloud out the door, calling a cheery goodbye over her shoulder to her mother as the younger woman shut the door behind her.

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Feel free to leave me a note on your way out~!

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