A/N: This fic is cross-posted to AO3. If people still want/need it updated here on fanfiction, please let me know. Otherwise, this will be the last chapter I post here.
If you had asked Cloud what he expected to do now that he was no longer being used as a human punching bag, he certainly never would have said curl up in Rufus's guest bed while Vincent took a crack at being a therapist. It never would have crossed his mind. Yet, there he was, counting the number of books lining the walls while he bared his soul to Vincent with disturbing ease.
"Every time I try to do something," he growls, his hands twisting into the white comforter, "it's always 'Where's Sephiroth?' this and 'Did you forget your chaperone?' that!"
Darkstar whines next to him – perhaps in agreement; perhaps to say that if Cloud was upset, then he was upset too. But it's what Vincent does that really highlights the absurdity of their situation.
"And how does that make you feel?" the man asks, deadpan in a way that suggests that all of his training had come from MogTube videos.
Muted MogTube videos with just the captions to tell him what to say.
"How does that…?" Cloud scoffs and turns to stare sharply at the once-again-Turk. "Really, Vincent?"
Yuffie would have laughed, he's sure. Would have had tears and snot running down her face from the force of her glee, even if this exact scenario probably wasn't what she had meant when she told him he needed to get his 'head shrunk'. But she wasn't there. So in her place, Darkstar growls – low and threateningly – as if to tell Vincent to choose his next move wisely.
"Is that not the right question?" Vincent asks, unconcerned by the guard puppy's hostility, his hands still folded neatly in his lap.
Cloud opens his mouth – to complain or insist nothing was wrong, he's not entirely sure. All he knows is that the moment Vincent lifts an eyebrow and Darkstar tenses next to him, is the same moment that the fight leaves him, all the air rushing out of his lungs like they were popped balloons. "Everybody keeps treating me like a child and I hate it!" he admits, flopping back down onto the pillows in what he tells himself is a mature way. "It's like nobody thinks I can do anything for myself anymore! Especially not after what happened yesterday!" He shakes his head until his vision swims, the words 'Not even Sephiroth wants me anymore' dying out on his tongue.
The silence that stretches out uncomfortably between them is familiar, at least. It's what Cloud is ready for. Ready enough that he doesn't pick self-consciously at the bed sheets.
What he isn't ready for, though, is for Vincent to hum sympathetically (as sympathetically as the man can manage) and then prove to Cloud that his thoughts still aren't safe from him. "You're worried that everybody thinks you're weak."
Cloud flinches, which is all the response that Vincent needs.
Unfortunately, it's also all the response Darkstar needs to push himself to his paws, his hackles raised. "Grrrr…" the guard puppy growls – a sound that Cloud's addled brain interprets as "Where do you want to be bitten? Your butt or your face?"
"Darkstar, no," Cloud says, but the puppy refuses to be swayed from his newfound dislike of Vincent.
"Grrrr…" – "Both? Both is good."
"Darkstar."
"Grrrr…" – "Your leg looks like a nice, fat, juicy bone."
"Stop it, Darkstar." Cloud's words come out a little sharper than he intends to, his heart clenching when Darkstar turns his big guard puppy dog eyes to him. "I know, I know," Cloud soothes, trying to apologize in his own way. "You're such a good boy." He runs a hand down Darkstar's flank and ignores the twinge of pain that that action brings – Vincent was coddling him enough as it is, he doesn't need to know about this too. "You're the best guard puppy a guy could ask for, but no biting Vincent, ok?"
Darkstar whimpers – "Just a little bite? …Please?"
"Darkstar, no."
The guard puppy heaves a great, big, disappointed sigh and drops dramatically back down onto the bed.
"Good boy," Cloud praises.
"Woof…" Darkstar responds, disappointed, and starts to lick at his paws dejectedly, though his head tentacle still curls protectively around Cloud's wrist.
It's cute. And it's indication enough that if Vincent doesn't watch himself, he'd have to cover his other hand with a gauntlet too.
However, contrary to what might be considered wise, Vincent remains unperturbed, the man watching their exchange as if this was another day at the office. (…Which, after everything they had been through together, it probably was.) "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.
The question is so simple and so detached from their earlier conversation that it takes Cloud a rather embarrassing amount of time to realize that Vincent isn't referring to his little chat with Darkstar, but rather the accusation that everybody thinks he's weak.
And while Cloud already knows the answer – knows it deep down in his bones – he's not ready to hear the words spoken out loud just yet.
Or ever.
So, he deflects – "Talk about what?"
Or at least he tries to. Vincent doesn't let him – not when he has nowhere to run. "What happened yesterday," the man says, straight and to the point, like he was asking about the weather and not Cloud's unresolved trauma.
It's infuriating.
"You already told me what happened," Cloud snaps back – his anger entirely justified, he's sure. He doesn't need people telling him what to do; doesn't need Vincent staring at him like that. He's not a child. "I freaked out, tried to kill Sephiroth, and now I'm being forced to accept this… this… this farce because Rufus is too busy playing benevolent caretaker to let it slide."
"You were triggered by the environment around you," Vincent sugarcoats his failures, "and reacted appropriately given your past experience with doctors, needles, and Sephiroth. And that is why the President had you moved here, so you could recover somewhere you felt safe."
Cloud scoffs – he must really be pathetic if Vincent was beating around the bush like this. "Ok, sure."
"Once we were certain your vitals were stable," Vincent continues on despite the interruption, "Sephiroth insisted he take first watch—" Cloud splutters— "Genesis retired to his rooms, and Reeve and I accompanied the President back to his office."
"What's your point?"
"Reeve… Well, Reeve wasn't happy." Vincent trails off, which Cloud recognizes as the man puzzling out the 'correct' way to phrase his next words.
The 'correct' way to phrase the fact that nobody wanted him anymore.
"Let me guess," Cloud cuts in dryly, his cool persona the only thing he's got left. (And who knows? Maybe if he acts unbothered, they'll change their minds. Decide to keep him after all.) "He made a strongly worded complaint about how Shinra shouldn't employ children to do their dirty work." Especially useless children like Cloud.
The look of understanding in Vincent's eyes, like he knows exactly what Cloud's thinking, hurts more than any sort of confirmation would have. At least until the man opens his mouth. "No. He blamed the President for putting you in harm's way and struck him in the face."
"…What?"
"Reeve was upset that you got hurt and he punched the President in the face."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that part. What I don't understand—" is the fact that Vincent had actually been pausing for dramatic effect rather than finding the best way to tell Cloud he wasn't needed anymore. No. Stop. Priorities. "What I don't understand is how he was actually successful."
"It was…" Vincent inclines his head ever so slightly, "unexpected."
"Tseng, sure, maybe. But nothing gets by you, Vincent."
It's quick – there for a second and gone in a flash, but Cloud's almost sure that the corner of Vincent's mouth had quirked upwards in a move that Cloud had dubbed the Vincent Smirk. "I had an off day."
"Righhhhhht…" Cloud drawls, and then sighs for added effect just in case Vincent doesn't already know he doesn't believe him. "So Reeve is going to get fired because you had an… off day."
This time, Vincent does smirk. "Actually, the President agreed with Reeve."
Cloud stares at Vincent. Really stares at him and tries to decide whether he should be relieved that the man had finally learned to lighten up a little, or concerned that Reno had so clearly rubbed off on him.
He settles for painfully exasperated.
"Ok," Cloud rolls his eyes, "now I know you're just making this up."
"…Woof?" Darkstar peers in Vincent's direction, his red eyes twinkling with what Cloud assumes must be hope that he'd get to bite the man this time.
Vincent remains unconcerned, though. He just crosses one leg over the other, heedless of the military-grade guard puppy rage staring at him. "Reeve has been advocating for you from the beginning," Vincent admits, shame flickering across his expression. "The only one truly advocating for you, I fear."
"Oh, yeah?" Cloud asks, a touch surly, his eyes stinging and his throat tight. He knows he should tell Vincent not to feel guilty about this, but he can't.
"Reeve never wanted to throw you back into this life in the first place." Cloud grits his teeth as Vincent continues, dreading the moment he would finally hear the words everybody was too nice to say. "He was convinced we should find an alternate way to deal with Jenova. Do you know why?"
Yeah, because I'm weak, Cloud thinks bitterly, though he just shrugs for Vincent, trying to hide how badly his jaw aches from clenching it so much… and how terribly his hand burns from clutching the bedspread so tightly.
They really had given up on him.
"It's not because he thinks you're weak."
"Yeah, right," Cloud scoffs, the almost-15-year-old in him winning out this time.
His mother would have consoled him. Tifa would have stared back with sad eyes. Vincent, on the other hand, allows Cloud his moment, no pity or disappointment to be found on his face. "Yes, right," Vincent says, negating Cloud's disbelief in a manner that sounds entirely foreign coming from the Turk's lips. "Reeve is tired of us dumping all of our problems on your shoulders without even considering the toll it might take on you. Had we had acknowledged the wisdom in his words to begin with, then we might have spared you this pain. And for that, the President – no, all of us – are truly sorry."
"I can take care of myself," Cloud bites back, the mention of Rufus being sorry hitting him the hardest. "I don't need anybody holding my hand."
"I'm aware of that," Vincent responds, neutrally, like he's only saying the words to make Cloud happy.
And that just sets Cloud off. "Then what's with this bullshit excuse of a therapy session?" He slaps his free hand down on the comforter, startling Darkstar in the process. The guard puppy growls, his head tentacle wrapping further around Cloud's wrist. "If you know I'm fine, then what the hell is the point of all this?"
"Grrr…."
It's everything Cloud told himself he wouldn't do – complain, fuss, throw a tantrum. Everything that proves that he really does need therapy.
Vincent doesn't call him out on it, though. Instead, he hits him with a frustratingly canned response. "The President recognizes the importance of good mental health, especially after a traumatic event like what happened yesterday."
Cloud seethes. "Yeah, well if that asshole is so worried about mental health, then why isn't he making you go through therapy too?"
He hates himself immediately.
"Shit, Vincent, I didn't—"
Vincent holds up a hand to stop him, no hint of hurt or anger on his face. And that's the most damning thing of it all – that Cloud could rail against him and Vincent would think he had deserved it.
"No need to worry yourself for my sake," Vincent tells him, but Cloud does. Oh, how he does. "Reno has already offered me his services. Quite enthusiastically, too."
"Please, Vincent. I really am—" his apology screeches to a halt— "Wait. Reno?"
"Yes."
"…Offered you his services?"
"Yes."
"…As in," Cloud wets his lips, unable to believe that he's actually about to utter these next words, "he's your therapist?"
If there was one thing that Cloud had learned about Vincent, it was that the man only truly seemed uncomfortable when his actions weren't backed by firm conviction. When he wasn't convinced that what he was doing was entirely above reproach. And judging from the way Vincent's foot jerks ever so slightly to the right, this must be one of those occasion. (Dear Gaia, the man was practically squirming.) "Is that… inadvisable?"
(Definitely squirming.)
"What? No… Maybe… Ugh. I don't know." Cloud runs his free hand through his hair and ignores the sharp pinch of the needle in his hand. "Why does this even matter anyway? Why make such a big fuss about therapy when you're just going to cart me back to Nibelheim—" he bites back the reflexive 'like last week's trash' and says— "once I've recovered?"
"Why would we do that?"
"You just said that Reeve doesn't want me involved anymore!" Cloud complains. "And Sephiroth is already planning to send me home with my mother! What else do you expect me to believe?"
Vincent leans back in his chair and studies Cloud for a moment. The scrutiny is concerning, but it's the man's silence that Cloud hates the most. It's what conflicts him the most – if he squints his eyes just right, he can almost fool himself into believing that Sephiroth hadn't actually left him.
And he doesn't want to admit that he wishes that that were true.
"You think we're going to throw you away," Vincent concludes, the man proving exactly why he's still qualified to wear that suit. "You failed, and now you think that we have no further use for you. That we blame you for everything that happened. Is that right?"
"I…" Cloud tries to work up some sort of denial – anything to prove that he isn't actually that pathetic.
He just can't.
Vincent doesn't coddle him, though (not that Cloud expected him to). Instead, the Turkapist prods a little deeper at Cloud's insecurities. "Or perhaps you think everybody should blame you since you blame yourself?"
"…V-Vincent…" It wasn't right. Vincent shouldn't be able to read him this easily.
"Tell me, Cloud – are sins ever forgiven?"
"I… What?"
"Sins." Vincent stresses the word like it should make all the sense in the world. "You said you were going to see if they were ever forgiven. Remember?"
Glowing trees.
Little white shoes peeking out from underneath Vincent's cloak.
"Cloud, are you sure this is about fighting?"
Oh.
Right.
He had said he'd phone in the verdict.
He just never had. Never tried to be forgiven. Never forgave himself, just went about things like usual, pretending like the pain didn't bother him anymore. As long as he had smiled, Denzel and Marlene had been happy, Tifa hadn't worried, and he himself had been able to convince himself he was better.
Now, though…
"I… never did come to a conclusion on that one," he admits, his throat tight from the ghostly feeling of small hands clinging to his legs.
"Cloud! You're home!"
No. He wasn't home. Not like this. Not without Marlene and Denzel there to greet him with crayoned pictures and flower crowns. Or Tifa to quietly watch over him when he forgot to watch over himself.
"I see…" Vincent says, the hint of dejection Cloud swears he can hear in the man's voice a gut-punch in and of itself. (Had Vincent been waiting on an answer all this time? Is that why he had bought that PHS?
Was Cloud nothing more than a disappointment after all?)
"Are you sure forgiveness is really what you were searching for?"
"I… Vincent…" Cloud stumbles over his words, looking for the best way to explain that he hadn't actually been leading Vincent on. That he hadn't been playing him for a fool. But when he looks up, he finds Vincent's posture just as relaxed as it had been before.
He was still in therapist mode.
"Or were you looking for confirmation?"
"Vincent." Cloud warns, begs, pleads – he's not entirely sure. He just wants this damn thing to be over with already.
"Confirmation that you really are a failure."
"Vincent, stop."
"That you're as weak as you think you are."
"Vincent!"
"That all you're good for is getting people killed."
"I couldn't do anything!" Cloud finally breaks, throwing all of his misgivings at Vincent's feet. "They were going to kill us and I couldn't do anything!" He shakes his head viciously, uncaring of how the room spins. "No! Worse! I didn't do anything! They had my roommates, and all I cared about was—!" he doesn't dare say the words 'seeing Sephiroth one last time', but is half-convinced that Vincent still hears them anyway through the loud sniffle he makes. "H-How… How can anybody think… I'll still be of use to them…?"
Fat tears roll silently down Cloud's face, his voice as weak and as brittle as he himself feels, yet Vincent comments on neither. Nor does he mention the oversized guard puppy climbing into Cloud's lap and licking frantically at his cheeks. (The weight is surprisingly comforting, at least compared to the rest of the baggage that Cloud has been lugging around.) "By that logic, should we toss out Zack as well?"
"W-What?" Cloud splutters, overwhelmed by the sudden change of topic and the unexpected bath his face was now getting. (He tries to turn his head away, but Darkstar will not be deterred – "Woof!")
"Zack Fair. Your friend." Vincent elaborates, speaking as if Cloud didn't know who Zack was. "He left you to stumble, nearly catatonic back to Midgar by yourself because he was too weak to handle a few troopers. By your admission, then, that must mean he's of no use to us either."
It takes Cloud a few dumbfounded moments to pull his jaw back off of the floor. To yank his face away from the slobbery onslaught that is Darkstar. When he finally does, his tears are gone.
Replaced instead by anger.
"The hell, Vincent?" he yells, and Darkstar takes that as his cue to turn his ire back to Vincent ("Grrrr…."). "They sent an entire battalion after us! The only reason they didn't kill me or drag me back to Hojo was because of Zack! He's a hero!"
Vincent, however, doesn't apologize for his words or look even remotely chastised. He remains as irritatingly unfazed as before, like he had anticipated Cloud's answer.
Wait.
Had he…?
"What about you then?"
Had he set Cloud up?
"…What?"
"You had shield and healing materia on you, plus far more experience with torture than any of us. Yet you still willingly put yourself under the knife again because your friends had nobody else to protect them. Doesn't that make you a hero too?"
Cloud's anger fizzles out, leaving behind crushing shame and the tears still on his face. "But my friends only needed protecting because of me!" he tries to explain; tries to convince Vincent that nothing would come from being this unwavering loyal to him – look at what had happened to Zack, Aerith, and now his roommates. "If I hadn't killed Heidegger, then none of this would have ever happened!"
"No." Vincent cuts in, every inch of him unwavering in his denial. "None of this would have happened if we had been more careful about changing the past." Cloud sniffles, one hand rubbing weakly at his eyes. "But we weren't, and you were left to clean up another one of our messes."
"But—"
"If anybody is at fault here, it is me." Vincent claims. "Reeve. Sephiroth. The President. Tseng. Take your pick. But it is not you."
"Vincent—"
"It is another sin that I will add to the list."
Cloud glares at the man, though it probably comes off as feeble as his hand does falling limply back into his lap. "D-Don't… Don't you dare blame yourself for this too."
Vincent huffs, truly amused for the first time since he had set foot in the guest room. "I won't if you won't."
What a cop-out.
"Vincent—"
"The truth of the matter is you keep suffering because of our mistakes, and we plan to remedy that."
"So, what? You're just going to make me sit on the sidelines while you fight Jenova by yourselves?" Like hell he would let them.
"No," Vincent promises. "We know you're the only one who can face Sephiroth if it comes to it." For the first time, the entirely foreign thought of 'I don't want to kill Sephiroth' bounces about in Cloud's head. "However, in order to fully prepare you for the challenges you will face, we acknowledge that a more active approach might be beneficial in terms of our support."
"…What are you talking about?"
"Individualized training. Sufficient downtime. Therapy. And when the time comes, we'll be by your side when you confront Jenova, just like during Meteorfall."
Cloud scoffs. "I think you missed the memo, Vincent," he tells the man, inwardly rolling his eyes at the mention of individualized training. "Sephiroth's sending me home with my mother. He doesn't want to deal with me anymore."
"…Sephiroth believes he's protecting you."
Cloud sneers, as if he had smelled something truly foul. "Because I'm weak."
"Because you mean more to Sephiroth than the entire universe combined."
Cloud chokes on his spit. "W-What?"
"When Sephiroth found out that you were in trouble – when he thought he might be too late – he was devastated. Terrified. Furious at anyone who would stand between him and you. He probably would have burned through the entire Tower if it meant he would reach you in time." Vincent's posture is immaculate – back straight, hands folded neatly in his lap; sign enough that he believed every single word that was coming out of his mouth. And that made it all the more earth-shattering (wonderful?) for Cloud to hear. "Sephiroth doesn't want you to return to Nibelheim because he thinks you're weak. He wants you to return because he blames himself for your injuries. Because he blames his own weakness. If he had just been a better mentor, General, SOLDIER, then none of this would have ever happened. You wouldn't have gotten hurt. And he would do anything to ensure that that doesn't happen again – even if it means his own death."
A Behemoth could roar into the silence between them and Cloud still wouldn't notice it, not with the blood pounding in his ears. "…H-How?" Cloud splutters once he finds his lips again. How could Vincent know? How could this possibly be true?
Vincent smiles that bitter, enigmatic quirk of the lips of his. "I know because that's how I felt about Lucrecia."
Dead.
Kunsel watches the reporter's lips sound out her farewell. Sees the unshed tears in her eyes. Feels his pocket buzzing with the force of an entire city's lament. And almost believes, for a second, the words that bleed out across the bottom of the screen.
Midgar Mourns: Explosion Claims the Lives of Shinra's Top SOLDIERs
Zack… was dead?
The towel Kunsel had been drying his hair with slips from his hand and falls to the floor with a slight thump. A thump that, alone, is enough to patch his shattered heart back up with string and duct tape.
No.
No no no, he decides. That can't be right. He doesn't believe it. Zack was stronger than that, especially with Cloud there to keep his worst impulses at bay.
But then what? What had happened for Shinra to classify them as KIA (even if they didn't have the decency to mention Cloud by name)?
He pauses, a wounded animal calculating whether it was better to fight or flee. Considers, for half a breath, the penalty of failure. And then grabs up his dirt-caked keycard and marches towards the door. Who cares if the only clean thing he had to wear was a pair of loose sweatpants he's pretty sure belonged to Zack? Who cares if this could get him on the Turks' radar in a bad way? He doesn't need his still drying uniform or Shinra's blessing to investigate.
And that's exactly what he plans to do as he flings open his apartment door and steps over the threshold. However, the corridor of the Shinra Building doesn't greet him. Chaos does as the red-tinged skyline explodes before him and metal lurches beneath his feet.
He doesn't think – not about what the hell was going on or how he was supposed to find Cloud like this – he just grabs the woman in front of him (one whose makeup and hair he knows won't look nearly as perfect in five minutes time) and throws the two of them backwards.
Just as the Sector 7 plate collapses right before their very eyes.
.
.
.
CRASH!
Kunsel wakes with a violent start, terrified for a second that the shaking beneath his feet is the Sector 6 plate about to give way too. He reaches out a hand, preparing to fling himself and the woman someplace safer, but falters when his fingers graze cold plastic.
Gone is the hard metal of the plate, the gaping hole, the blaring sirens all around him. Instead, in their place is just a rickety chair and the reminder of all the people Kunsel had failed.
Cloud, who had gone up against Shinra before Kunsel could find him.
Zack, whose girlfriend had fallen into the hands of the Science Department.
And that woman, whose husband Kunsel hadn't managed to save. Whose shocked face he could still see sinking out of sight along with the plate.
"Milo!"
Kunsel sags forward, the mayhem and the burning condemnation ("He's dead because of you!") fading with every stifled breath he takes.
The guilt, though… That remains. And it consumes him so thoroughly that he doesn't even realize he's not alone until a soft and very feminine voice speaks up. "…Kunsel?"
He flinches, one hand reaching for his sword before he remembers where he must be. Before he plays his mistake off as embarrassment and runs that same hand through his hair instead. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake… you…" he says, his words trailing off when he looks up and finds a teenage girl there with him rather than the one-night stand he had been expecting.
The room jerks away from him under a veil of staticky grey, and suddenly he's in Scarlet's office again, the girl – Elena, he recalls – bleeding out at his feet. Drowning in a pool of her own blood.
"Destroy its exhaust fan, hit it with Fire, and Rude's your uncle!"
The movie reel shifts, and then Elena is standing strong and confident before Scarlet and a swarm of reporters. Shift. Collapsing into Kunsel's arms. Shift. Turning a lovely shade of red as a droplet of water runs down her neck and disappears beneath her hospital gown.
He wonders how far that red extends…
"…You ok?" Elena asks somewhere in the distance, just as the movie reel shifts again and the weight of two lifetimes bears down upon his shoulders.
Essai's and Sebastian's deaths. Zack's obsession with a small (and rather pretty) trooper. That damn mission to Nibelheim, and everything else that had followed it.
Five years of silence and gnawing dread, broken only by word of Hojo's escaped 'research samples'…
…and the one they had gunned down.
Avalanche.
Meteorfall.
Cautious hope once he had finally tracked Cloud to a cozy bar in Edge.
"It's me, Kunsel."
"…Right."
Only to be drowned out by crushing defeat when Cloud – the only link he had left to Zack – looked straight through him (with eyes that weren't his, but weren't Zack's either) and walked away.
So… was Kunsel ok? No. No, he very much was not, not if this was what remembering was like. But he still plasters on a fake smile – one that had been forged in the fires of Shinra's lies – and tells Elena that it was "Just a nightmare," feeling like he had aged ten years in about as many blinks of the eye.
Her brow furrows in concern, something that would have been touching once upon a time. Charming, even. However, Kunsel's a different man now. One who recognizes her for the Turk she used to be, and knows she would just as soon shoot him in the back as comfort him – her colleagues had done as much to Zack, after all.
And that thought helps him shed the skin of the guileless teenager he had been just a few hours ago. "It's a lot to take in," he admits, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes cast downwards as if in defeat. "I just… I can't believe that anything – even some monster from outer space – would be enough to take Zack out…" he says, repeating the lie she had told him earlier.
It's an olive branch – a second chance for her to redeem herself.
She doesn't, though, and the crush he had almost had hangs like a noose around his neck.
"…I'm sorry," she says, her words breathy in a way that might have been convincing when he still thought she was the sun.
He knows better now.
She's the moon – cold and barren.
"Yeah, me too," he plays along, unclenching his clasped fingers as he finally comes to a decision. He'd be a little impulsive for once. A little like Zack. What good was hiding in the shadows if all he had to show for it (if all he had had to keep Zack's memory alive the first time around) was a pair of borrowed sweatpants and a prank ringtone, anyway? "I'm just surprised, y'know…" He lifts dead eyes to her, and watches her squirm while the string and duct tape unravel from around his heart. "I figured you would have stuck to the official story that Zack and Sephiroth died in a reactor explosion."
The Turk's eyes widen. Her breath hitches, the tiny sound drowning out every other noise in the now too small hospital room. "I-I… I can—"
"Explain what really happened in Nibelheim?" Kunsel leans back in the rickety chair and allows his heart to harden up, impervious to the memory of how soft she had been in his arms, the thought of what her hand in his would have felt like, and the image of her blush dipping below the collar of her hospital gown. "Yeah, I think you better… Turk."
"That's how I felt about Lucrecia."
Thirty minutes, at least, had passed since Vincent had dumped Cloud head-first into an ocean of unfathomable truths. Thirty minutes in which Cloud had struggled against the current of 'does Sephiroth really feel that way about me?', yet he was no closer to breaching the surface than when the Turkapist had stood from his chair and strolled over to the windows to stare down on the smog-covered city below.
How? How could Sephiroth possibly see Cloud the way Vincent had Lucrecia? How could he possibly think of him like that? Vincent had been in lo—
No. No. Nope.
Cloud stifles a groan and drops his aching head into his hands, grateful for Vincent's silence and Darkstar's comforting presence by his side. Whatever this was, it wasn't that. He knows it. Knows that Sephiroth couldn't possibly feel that way about him. If anything, it was just an obligation thing. Just Sephiroth's way of apologizing for everything he had done.
Sure, Cloud remembers the fantasies he had had when he was younger. The imagined praise. The cold showers. But that was age-appropriate fascination – he hadn't been the only trooper who had stared a little too long, a little too hard at Sephiroth's face painted out across all the recruitment posters in town.
This, though? This was an Ifrit-be-damned mine field. One wrong move, and all of his hopes and dreams would blow up in his face.
…Not that he had any hopes and dreams, of course. Not that he wanted Sephiroth to walk through that door and sweep him off his—
Click.
Cloud's head snaps up, his heart already lodged in his throat. No. He wasn't ready. Wasn't ready for the door to swing open and for his eyes to land on a sculpted jaw…
…and disappointing mako blue eyes.
What?
"Spike!" Zack yells, and launches himself across the room.
Or at least he tries to.
Genesis stops him, the man reaching out a hand and yanking Zack backwards by the collar of his uniform. "Down, boy," he commands.
"…Woof?" Darkstar questions while Zack goes tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and indignant spluttering – "Gah!"
"I know it's a particularly difficult task for you, Puppy—" Genesis struts past as if he hadn't just tossed his lover's student around — "but do try to use that brain of yours for once. Even if our little bird is the Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds, a pounce from you might still be enough to forestall his return." He throws a smirk over his shoulder, one hand propped smugly on his hip. "Unless, of course, it was actually your intention to smother him to death with your affection?"
Zack slaps the floor. "I wasn't going to dive-bomb him!"
"Ah, right. Of course." Genesis brushes his words off, indifferent in a way that suggests he had made up his mind about Zack's character a long time ago. He turns back around, his eyes scanning the room until they land on Vincent by the windows. "Count Dracula?" he asks. "Did Sephiroth need to go to the little hero's room then?"
It's a cutting barb – one that has Genesis waiting haughtily for Vincent to drop his mask, and Darkstar watching eagerly for something to happen (preferably to Vincent), his nub of a tail vibrating in anticipation.
However, Vincent doesn't indulge either of them. Instead, he responds, "He's sleeping," his voice as dry as an unlit match.
But Genesis doesn't need any help starting (or fanning) his own flames. "Sleeping?" the man mocks, the derision in his voice raising Cloud's hackles faster than Cloud is prepared for. "I thought he wasn't going to leave Cloud's side until I returned? Or was his beauty sleep more importan—"
"He looked terrible!" Cloud cuts in, regardless of how his hand burns ("Woof!") or how his bruised ribs ache with every breath. "He hasn't slept in days and you're going to mock him for finally taking care of himself?!"
He heaves air back into his lungs as the world threatens to quake all around him. As dark splotches dot their way across his vision.
In. 2. 3.
Out. 2. 3.
He breathes deep, Tifa's voice soft and soothing in his head, and it's only when the room starts to solidify itself again that Cloud realizes what he had just done. That he notices the shock on Zack's face, the intrigue on Genesis's, and discovers that he had just defended Sephiroth.
"I-I…"
"Oof, yeah," Zack chuckles awkwardly from the floor. "The last time Sephy didn't sleep for days, things did not go well…"
Cloud hardly hears him, though, not with Genesis muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, "And Sephiroth thinks it's unrequited."
"What?" Cloud asks, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
So painfully. So frantic of a cadence (unrequited?), that he very nearly misses the way that Zack pushes himself slowly to his feet, the teen cocking his head to the side like a lost puppy.
"Uhh… Those thugs didn't hit you so hard that you forgot about Nibelheim, did they, buddy?"
"What? No, Zack." He brushes the silly question off and turns almost frantically back to Genesis. "What did you just say?"
"My friend, your desire is the bringer of life—"
"No, not tha—"
"—the gift of the goddess." Genesis strides up to the bed and lays a hand gently on Cloud's shoulder. (Cloud tries not to flinch, he really does.) "A deal, little bird. I'll take back everything I said about Sephiroth if you let the mutt go."
"What?" Cloud asks, forcing himself to remain here in the present as his eyes follow Genesis's line of sight.
What he finds is more horrible than what he was expecting. For there next to him, calm and uncomplaining, lay Darkstar, Cloud's hand curled deeper into his flesh than Hojo ever had in him.
"Shit." Cloud lets go of the guard puppy with a curse (and a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach), his hand hanging awkwardly in the air – he'd never touch him again. "Sorry, Darkstar. I'm so sor—"
"Ruff!" Darkstar cuts him off with a bark, the pup licking up his hand and arm enthusiastically, as if to say there was nothing to forgive.
"Ok! Ok! Ouch! I get it, Darkstar!" Cloud relents, his hands moving instinctively to cover his face from the barrage of affection, but there's nowhere to go.
"Ruff! Ruff!" Darkstar vibrates with energy, his head tentacle thumping rhythmically against the headboard. He surges forward, and Cloud has a moment to realize that maybe a pounce really will do him in when salvation comes from above.
Genesis reaches out and, with the speed only a 1st could brag about, shoves Darkstar back onto his haunches. "Enough." he commands. "I expect you to be better behaved than the other puppy in this room."
"Hey!" Zack tries to complain, but nobody hears him – or at least, nobody answers him. Not with Darkstar growling at Genesis, low and threateningly in his throat, his head tentacle swishing back and forth like a cat's might before it attacks.
Genesis, though, is unconcerned. "Are you done yet?" he asks, his tone and posture indicating that his patience is running very thin.
Whether Darkstar realizes this, is a question that Cloud doesn't learn the answer to for another few seconds. Seconds in which he has time to notice that Zack is just as uneasy as he is… and that Vincent will be absolutely no help whatsoever, the Turkapist leaning casually against the windows as if this was the best show he had seen since he had dragged himself out of his coffin (payback for the Count Dracula thing?).
One second passes in tense silence.
And then another.
And then Genesis tilts his chin up and drawls, "Well?"
The guard puppy stares back, calculating.
Glowers deep into Genesis's soul.
Flicks his head tentacle one last time…
…and then promptly drops back onto the bed with a pitiful whine.
Huh.
Ok.
Well, apparently, that was a thing.
"He listens to you, too?" Zack yells, as curious about the development as Cloud is, but goes unanswered for the second time that day.
"Hm. That's better," Genesis says and turns back to Cloud with a no-nonsense expression plastered all over his face. "Now. Little bird—" he waves a hand through the air and a shimmering lens of light appears in front of Cloud's face — "you think I can look at your injuries before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum undo all of my hard work?"
Cloud almost agrees. He can see the lingering damage on the Assess readout, can feel his ribs rattling with every breath he takes, and wants nothing more than to return to his own rooms in the barracks, if only so things would finally go back to being normal (however normal his life could be now). But he chances a look at Vincent (for approval? support? he doesn't know), and suddenly remembers why that's a huge no-go.
"You tried to kill him with a medical swab."
"No," he says. Absolutely not. He can't be trusted. Not like this. Not with Zack around. Not with Sephiroth a few floors down. "No, thanks," he repeats, a little less rushed – perhaps they'd believe him if he actually sounded composed. "I'm fine."
"…Huh?" Zack cocks his head to the side and stares at Cloud like he had just said he had the hots for Hojo (which, rude, he wasn't that crazy). "Whatcha talking about, buddy? Those thugs nearly killed you." A muscle in Zack's jaw clenches, and the teen takes a deep breath before continuing. "Wounds like that need multiple days, and multiple Curagas, to heal."
"No. I'm fine." Cloud repeats, firmer this time, even with the humorless look on Genesis's face.
"You flinched when that mutt licked you," Genesis says, stressing each word with the thin patience of a man who thinks he's speaking to an idiot. "At the very least I need to check that your IV is still functioning properly."
The man attempts to reach forward, aborted only in the fact that Cloud shuffles away (as far away as he can manage with Darkstar mistaking his movement as a request for cuddle time). "I said I'm fin—Ack, yes I love you too, Darkstar!"
"Little bird. Enough with this foolish—"
"Nuh-uh-uh," Zack sidles up, slinging an arm around Genesis's shoulders and pulling him into a one-handed (and very one-sided) hug. "That's enough theatrics out of you, young man. We don't want you scaring Cloudy away, now do we?"
If at all possible, the room dips to an almost frigid temperature while simultaneously swelling to a scorching inferno. "Unhand me this instant—" Genesis tries to pull away, but Zack just reels him back in — "or you'll discover the true meaning of theatrics."
"Don't worry, Spike!" Zack (joyfully) ignores Genesis and flashes Cloud a gentle smile, one that only reminds Cloud of cliffs and rain and death… How could anybody expect him not to worry? "Gen might be a moody bitch a lot of the time – ok, all of the time – especially when he's jealous that you're not happier to see him, but he won't hurt you! You're like his favorite! Aside from Angeal, of course," Zack pulls a face. "Ok, actually, ew gross, I really don't want to think about that one right now…" The longer Zack rambles, the brighter Genesis's body glows, until Zack breaks away with a colorful curse. "Agh! Ok! He might singe a hand or an eyebrow or two, but that's just his way of saying he loves you!"
Darkstar woofs enthusiastically at the display before him, his head tentacle working overtime as Genesis turns to them, takes one look at the predicament Cloud is in – terrified at the thought of stabbing Zack with a pillow or smothering him with a blanket after everything his friend had done for him – and visibly rearranges the words on the tip of his tongue. "While I am loathe to admit it, the Puppy is…" his face spasms with poorly concealed disgust, "…right. You have nothing to fear from me."
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
For the third time that day, Zack's quip goes mostly unnoticed, for Vincent chooses that exact moment to betray Cloud's confidence.
"It's not your melodramatics that he's afraid of, Commander."
"Vincent!" The complaint is out of Cloud's mouth before he can stop it, before he can think up a denial that wouldn't be quite so damning an admittance of guilt.
Unfortunately, his slip-up doesn't go unnoticed either. Genesis pauses, his eyes calculating, Midgar a dark and dreary backdrop behind him.
"You're afraid you'll lose yourself again," the man finally concludes, far too accurately for Cloud's liking.
"…I thought we were done with therapy for the day," Cloud grouses, staring blindly at the comforter covering his legs while the room falls uncomfortably quiet around him.
He hates this.
The judgment.
The silent pity.
The knowledge that he'll never measure up.
"Now, see!" Zack cuts through the gloom with a cheeriness that is entirely unwelcome, the teen clambering into bed next to Cloud. "This is what we're gonna do—"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. Doesn't manage to do more than lace their fingers together before Darkstar notices what Zack himself had missed. Cloud's discomfort. The tension in his shoulders. The desire to fade into the woodwork and wallow in his own shame.
"Grrrr…" Darkstar growls in warning. His hackles raise. And Cloud knows he has all of maybe two seconds before Zack becomes the world's biggest chew toy.
"No, Darkstar. You can't bite Zack either," Cloud plays referee, positioning himself between the two of them even though it pulls uncomfortably at his bruised… well, everything.
"Grr—woof?"
"Hey," Zack says, softer than he's managed anything else in his life, his free hand held out in front of him in a sign of surrender, "I agree with Cloudy on this one. No biting me, please."
Unfortunately, his words only serve to provoke Darkstar more, the guard puppy snapping angrily at him from over Cloud's shoulder – "Ruff!"
What had Cloud's life become?
"Zack, shut up. Darkstar, sit."
If not for their earlier disagreement over Vincent, then Darkstar might not have listened to him. Might have decided that it was finally time for the Puppy vs puppy showdown that only he (and possibly Genesis) would find amusement in. Luckily, though, this time, Darkstar merely grumbles as he obeys, one of his big purple paws slung across Cloud's lap as he stares Zack dead in the eyes. "…Ruff," he barks softly – a noise that sounds distinctively like 'mine'.
Zack huffs out a laugh somewhere between amused and bewilderedly impressed. "That's some bodyguard you got there."
"Cactuar calling the Ho-chu green," Cloud responds, grumbling a bit as he leans back against the headboard and realizes that he had just imitated Rufus.
Gross.
He scowls at the thought – something that only contributes to Zack's laughter, the teen chuckling heartily as he reaches over with his free hand to pinch Cloud's cheek. "Can you blame me, though? You're too cute not to protect!"
"Zackkkk…" Cloud pulls his face away, though his hand remains ensconced in Zack's larger one. "Will you stop being an idiot and tell me what's going on?"
Zack's mouth drops open, his head cocks to the side, like he can't remember what it was he was actually doing before Darkstar interrupted them. "Uhhh…" He stares at Cloud for a second, like Cloud's face should hold the answer to all of his questions. Genesis mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like 'imbecile' in the background, but Zack doesn't notice. His attention drops to his and Cloud's joined hands, and then his glazed eyes light up like a meteor shower. "Ah! Right!" He snaps the fingers of his free hand triumphantly. "What I was going to say is you don't need to worry your pretty little head about anything." He squeezes Cloud's hand reassuringly. "I'll hold you—" he spares a glance at Darkstar still draped over Cloud— "and the mutt'll lie on you, and we'll both keep you grounded."
"But—" the word falls instinctively from Cloud's mouth, a million complaints already waiting to be said. He doesn't need to be coddled. Doesn't like the idea of inconveniencing anybody… Doesn't want to be any further in Zack's debt.
But Zack doesn't wait for him to figure out which one fits the situation best. "Nuh-uh-uh! No buts, Cloudy. I'm not moving an inch until you're all healed up."
It's so like Zack, that Cloud already knows he won't win this argument. "But…" he says weakly instead, "you're supposed to be in Mideel…"
Zack chuckles, a sound that Cloud hadn't realized he had missed so much until this very instant. "You didn't think I'd let something silly like an ocean keep me away from my bestest buddy, did you?"
'What is Sephiroth's ultimate attack?'
Yuffie rolls her eyes and aggravatedly taps the answer into her father's PHS. "Supernova, duhhh," she drawls to the rafters of the pagoda. "And you wanna know why? Cause he's a whiney, overdramatic bitch compensating for the warmth he never got as a child."
There's no scandalized gasp or muffled tittering from the empty room below. Just the soft coo of a dove outside and the obnoxious ring-a-ding-ding-ing she receives from the phone for having answered correctly.
"Congratulations! That's right!" she sneers at the message on the screen, her legs swinging back and forth idly from the beam she sits on. "Well, whoop-dee-doo! Would ya hurry it up already? I don't have all day!"
She had given her father quite the run-around earlier, for sure – had raced off during her Chocobo-riding lessons and torn through the castle for a good fifteen minutes to confuse them. But it was only a matter of time before they caught onto her deception and realized that she had already snuck out of a window while they were too busy searching the materia coffers. (Fools! She had raided that vault a good month ago!)
Now normally, she wouldn't care about being caught in the act (what are they gonna do, put her in timeout?), but that deadbeat she calls a father was hiding something from her. Something to do with Sephiroth (blech!) and those other ugly Shinra SOLDIER dudes, she's sure of it, since he had blocked her access to ALL of their fan clubs before reactivating the child protection on her phone (she's not a child!). Something BIG too, going from the (infuriating!) fact that all the TVs and radios in the castle had been reprogrammed so she couldn't access anything Midgar-based.
So, if she wants to know what's going ON, then she has to get into Sephiroth's fanclub NOW – totally GROSS, but a ninja's gotta do what a ninja's gotta do!
She'd be successful, though! She'd CRUSH that quiz beneath her feet like any other enemy! She wasn't the Single White Rose of Wutai AND Princess Regent for nothing!
Ok, fine. Technicalllyyyyy, she wasn't Princess Regent anymore. Not physically, at least. Mentally? Definitely. Spiritually? Abso-posi-lutely. In title? Well… she still had to work on that one. But considering that her father was about as good at holding secrets as a sieve was water, he wasn't fit to rule anything! Honestly, the people of Wutai should be begging her to take over – especially considering her father was a disgrace to the Kisaragi name if he didn't realize that her dancing on the dining room table this morning was all just a ruse so she could steal his phone!
Whatever.
It doesn't matter.
Getting into Sephiroth's fan club, as skin-crawling as the idea is, is her mission right now. She couldn't fail!
'What is the name of Sephiroth's beloved sword?'
Yuffie holds her breath while she frowns (not pouts!) at the device – time is of the essence, and she knows from past experience that 'Massively Overcompensating For a Tiny Ding-Dong' will just be flagged as the 'wrong' answer (uncultured swine). However, she still takes a moment to send a prayer to all of those who had had their lives cut short (figuratively and literally) by this same sword.
She breathes deep and at last types in, 'Masamune,' the third, and final, question appearing on the screen.
She nearly throws up.
'Who is Sephiroth's favorite person?'
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
No way in Ifrit's fiery hell is she answering THAT!
"…You hear that?"
Yuffie swallows down her indignant squawk and draws her dangling legs up to her chest – Leviathan's Bones! They weren't supposed to find her that fast!
The pagoda is deathly quiet for one, two, three eternities – Yuffie holding her breath until her chest burns; the guards below straining to hear any snap, crackle, or pop.
They don't.
"…Princess?" Guard 1 (Nanny 1, more like) calls, his voice hesitant in a way that suggests he actually expects her to answer.
Must be fresh meat.
A whack echoes throughout the pagoda, followed shortly by a voice she knows frustratingly well – "She's not going to answer you, you idiot!"
Kenichi.
Her very own, personal babysitter, who had denied a change of station because he thought chasing after her was more rewarding.
Weirdo.
"Spread out!" Kenichi yells, clearly the idiot in charge here. "Nobody leaves 'til we comb every inch of this place, top to bottom!"
A growl bubbles up in her throat, a litany of curses rests on her tongue, but she holds it all back. Wrestles it all down. This was as much a test of her willpower as it was her cunning.
Yuffie vs Kenichi.
The Beauty of Wutai vs The Self-Appointed Wet Nurse.
Who would win?
Yuffie, of course. But there was no time to waste – Kenichi was… dedicated, she'd give him that. He'd turn over every rug, every tatami mat, every golden statue until he found her.
So, she curls herself further into the shadow of the rafters, double checks that her father's PHS is actually on silent… and then types in her very reluctant answer, hoping that the treasure (or doom) she unearths is actually worth the disgrace.
'Who is Sephiroth's favorite person?'
'Cloud Strife.'
The Loading Circle of Death spins and spins and spins, and Yuffie crosses her fingers that that means that she's just wrong. That Cloud isn't Sephiroth's favorite person, but rather Jenova. Hojo. His imaginary friend, Mr. Wiggles, that he can't live without.
She's not that lucky.
'Welcome to Silver Elite, Midgar's premier fan club!' flashes across the screen, and Yuffie's (entirely too tiny) fingers tighten around the device in her hand. That's IT! The next time she's in Midgar, she's melting down Masamune and making a new weapon for herself! Midgar's Bane, she'll call it! Or Wutai's Salvation!
Thoughts of revenge, though, are cut short. A revoltingly pink picture appears at the top of the feed, and Yuffie finds herself too busy trying to figure out why the HELL Cloud is lounging in bed while Sephiroth – that planet-destroying madman – hovers at his side, dressed like a Makopuff Girl!
SephirothLover617859: *fans self* and I thought he looked good in black!
AlwaysSilverElite8675309: how can you say that when Cloud's hurt?
SephirothLover617859: I didn't mean…
LadysMan69: hurt? did he punch himself in the face so sephiroth would pay attention to him again? ?
AlwaysSilverElite8675309: why, you! ?
WellTechnically: didn't you hear?
LadysMan69: hear what?
DieACatLady: Director Scarlet hired thugs to kill him
Yuffie's world careens to a stop – her breath coming in short rasps, her vision darkening around the edges just like when Sonon had jumped in front of her. When they had found him again in Deepground… When he had returned to his senses long enough to beg her to kill him.
To end his misery.
How…
How dare that old crone try to take somebody else away from her!
LadysMan69: pfft. yeah, right. first heidegger and now scarlet? this has coup written all over it. betcha doofus shinra is dotting his t's after killing his father ? ᄌマ
RedTurkey: word on the street, yo, is scarlet spread that rumor
LadysMan69: and then tried to kill a scrawny teenager? c'mon man
RedTurkey: last obstacle to the throne
WellTechnically: …throne?
RedTurkey: dontcha see the resemblance?
Yuffie scrolls frantically through the comment thread, cursing Reno under one breath for having convinced the ENTIRE WORLD that Cloud was Rufus's brother (!), and begging him with the next to get on with it already! What really happened to Cloud?
SephirothLover617859: oh…
WellTechnically: shit.
RedTurkey: she spread the rumor to make ppl doubt rufus from the beginning
RedTurkey: …and to rile heidegger up
ShadesAndSexy: she did hate Heidegger
RedTurkey: yeah, she did
AlwaysSilverElite8675309: …and Cloud?
RedTurkey: prolly was gonna frame rufus for it. imagine the headlines – president murdered baby brother for being more popular with the 1sts!
LadysMan69: that's a lie! scarlet's too pretty for that!
RedTurkey: then why's evrybody sayin she hired thugs to kidnap cloud and beat him to death?
RedTurkey: why'd sephiroth and genesis hafta disguise themselves as 3rds so scarlet wouldn't know they were in the slums?
Yuffie barely remembers she's not alone; barely remembers to shove a fist into her mouth before a pitiful whimper bubbles its way out of her throat. No. No. No! How dare they touch Cloud!
ShadesAndSexy: I heard they barely made it, too. If they had arrived even a minute later, then Cloud would be dead now.
LadysMan69: oh come off it. he doesn't look that bad.
RedTurkey: uh… multiple curagas, duh
ShadesAndSexy: You forget Rhapsodos is his teacher too?
The phone slips from her fingers before she even realizes what's happening. Tumbles, end over end over electronic end, as she struggles to pull herself back together. If RedTurkey was Carrot Top, then ShadesAndSexy had to be his (totally NOT sexy) counterpart. Meaning that they had been there. They had seen everything. And even though Yuffie still owed them a good WHAM! BAM! POW! for everything they had done, even though she knows they always lie… this can't be one of them.
Cloud really had almost died.
Clatter!
"Wha—She's here!"
Yuffie growls low in her throat as she scrubs furiously at the tears in her eyes. How DARE that spikey-headed JERK get into trouble when she wasn't around to save the day! How DARE he let Sephiroth get all the credit! It should have been her victory! It should have been her arms that Cloud fell into! Yuffie, you're so amazing and strong! he should have said! Why did I ever think that Aerith and Tifa could hold a flame to you?
No.
No.
No!
Yuffie jumps to her feet and mentally throws her gauntlet to the ground – she wasn't about to let Mr. Mommy Issues steal Cloud away from her!
"There she is!"
The guards circle below, like sharks awaiting their prey. Tense in unison, as she races down the beam and leaps off the edge. And then raise their arms into the air as she falls, as if preparing to haul in their catch of the day.
Amateurs.
"Watch ou—!" Kenichi tries to warn them, but it's entirely too late. The smoke bomb Yuffie drops explodes at their feet, flooding the room in a thick, white fog. The guards cough. They curse. They flail about blindly, searching for any sign of her.
Sucks to suck, though – this isn't her first rodeo.
She sinks calmly through the haze, locks eyes with Kenichi, and before he can do more than flare his nostrils in frustration and defeat, she throws him a jaunty smirk and wave as she vaults off of Nanny 3's fat head and soars straight through the open window of the pagoda.
Next stop – Midgar.
"I should've been there."
The healing magic washing over Cloud's body is so draining and the drag of Zack's thumb across his hand so lulling, that he doesn't even hear Zack at first. Doesn't even realize that the teen has said anything until he speaks again.
"I'm so sorry, Spike. I should've been there for you. I shouldn't have let—"
"Don't… be stupid…" Cloud mumbles, squeezing Zack's hand to shut him up (not that he opens his eyes to see if he was actually successful). "I don't… don't need a babysitter…" His head, heavy and cotton-filled, lists to the side until it makes contact with something warm and solid next to him. "Can take… care of myself…"
"I know, I know," Zack placates softly, his voice oddly closer now than it had been before. "I know you're super strong, buddy, and you don't need a crotchety old man like me telling you what to do—"
"Not old…"
"So, I am crotchety?" Zack teases, dropping Cloud's hand to prod him playfully in the ribs.
Is it real? Is it a memory? Cloud's not entirely sure. All he knows is that he should pinch Zack in return. That's what he would have done before, at least. But the only thing he can manage is a rather unthreatening, "Shaddup…" as he sags further into the comforting weight next to him.
Luckily, his pillow doesn't seem to mind. It hums its approval and wraps an arm around his waist – something that feels so very familiar.
And so very safe.
"Remember how I told you I went to see Aerith as soon as I remembered?"
"Hm?" Cloud murmurs, Zack's soft tenor sending him drifting… further… and further… off to sleep…
"…I actually came to find you first."
Huh…
That… sounds…
…reasonable…
.
.
.
The splotchy grey of Cloud's eyelids has almost dimmed to black when the words finally catch up to him. When he rejoins the waking world with an unflattering snort, Zack's voice echoing relentlessly throughout his cotton-filled head.
"…came to find you first."
"…you."
"…you."
"…Wha?" Cloud slurs, positive he must have misheard something. At least until he turns his head, blinks his eyes open, and finds himself confronted with a far more mortifying reality.
He's now slumped against Zack as if Aerith didn't exist, his nose buried into the teen's chest.
Ifrit's fiery balls.
Cloud tries to jerk away, tries to untangle his tongue enough to stutter out a much-needed apology (or ask where the heck Zack's pauldrons had gone?), but Zack's hold remains firm. "Don't get me wrong, Spikey. I love Aerith," his smile is bittersweet; his eyes distant, like he's looking at somebody who isn't Cloud… or isn't Cloud any longer, "but after a year of taking care of you, I guess I grew a little dependent."
"Zack…" Cloud breathes, his face flaming, not least of all because Vincent and Genesis can hear every single word that they're saying.
"283 nights, bud. I counted. All spent holding you while we slept, one hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating…" Zack presses his free hand to Cloud's chest to demonstrate, his other tightening around Cloud's waist. "So when I remembered and you weren't there… I just… I needed to know that you were ok."
The room is suddenly too small, too warm, too suffocating – especially with the reminder, for the first time since Hojo, of the silly little crush that Cloud had had on Zack. He drops his head, hides his eyes, and desperately tries to decide why he still longs for green rather than blue.
"I found you on the way to the cafeteria, bud," Zack says, his fingers tracing Cloud's hip bone in such a lazy manner that Cloud's not sure if he even realizes he's doing it (Zack had always been a rather tactile person). "But you didn't recognize me. You didn't even flinch when I asked if you had seen Sephiroth recently…"
Oh.
Cloud remembers.
The thrillanxietyfear of being addressed by a 1st Class SOLDIER.
The confusion when he saw the grief on Zack's face.
And the embarrassment of tripping over Johnson's foot once Zack had turned the corner.
(He very much does not think about what Johnson would have done if Vincent hadn't been there.)
"I whined about it all night to Aerith," Zack continues, uninterrupted, as if Cloud hadn't just fallen down his very own rabbit hole. "And let me tell you, she did not let me off the hook for talking so much about my 'side hustle'—" Zack draws air quotes with his free hand— "when I had ghosted her for five years."
"Z-Zack, I—" Cloud stutters, his shame compounded – they had both died for him, and yet here he was, getting in their way again.
"Nuh-uh-uh. I don't wanna hear a single apology outta you, mister. Nobody blames you for anything, got it?"
"But I—"
Cloud feels a slight pressure through the fuzzy numbness spreading throughout his body. "Aerith was just teasing – you know how she gets," Zack reassures, his fingers running soothingly over the spot he had just pinched. "She missed you too, bud. Trust me. We both ate my weight in ice cream that night. It was not pretty."
Cloud ducks his head, his eyes stinging with an emotion he can't quite name. Disgust that he had put them through so much. Surprise that they still wanted him. Grief that their time together had been cut so short the first time around.
And gratitude that he actually had a second chance.
He doesn't say any of that, though. Doesn't want to give them any more reason to doubt him. Especially with Genesis working his magic above them and Vincent still lingering by the windows. "Careful," he warns instead, trying his best to tamp down on the exhaustion clinging to his body like a second skin, "or Vincent'll think you need therapy, too."
"Oh?" Zack asks, but otherwise doesn't respond the way Cloud expects him to. Doesn't scoff, or groan, or grumble that he doesn't need therapy because he's not weak. Rather, he tilts his head to the side, ponders over it for hardly a second, and then tells Vincent, with far more enthusiasm than he has any right to, "If Rufus is paying, then sign me up!"
"What?" Cloud pulls away again, and this time, Zack lets him. "You don't need—" he yawns— "dammit. You don't need therapy; you're so strong!"
"Cloudy, Cloudy, Cloudy," Zack sighs (as if Cloud was being the particularly obtuse one) and pokes him in the forehead. "Strength has nothing to do with it. I've watched friends die; been forced to kill my own mentor; been picked apart by a lunatic all in the name of science; and then shot full with more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. At this point, I can use all the help I can get."
The solemnity on Zack's face, the trauma behind his strained smile is so suffocating that all Cloud can manage is a weak "…Zack…", his mouth hanging open like a stunned Blugu's. He wants to say something; wants to be there for Zack like Zack had always been there for him. But he's too late. (Always too late.) Zack recovers by himself, his eyes lighting up excitedly.
"Oh! Oh! I know!" Zack exclaims, the teen bouncing up and down like the puppy he claims he isn't. "We can invite Sephiroth too!"
Cloud's jaw falls open. "…You… What?" His eyes dart around the room for some semblance of an answer, but Vincent is still acting like he can't hear them; Genesis is too busy smirking at the thought of Sephiroth in therapy; and Darkstar is already half asleep in Cloud's lap. "…What?"
"C'mon, Cloudy," Zack tuts. "With a mother like that, Sephy needs more therapy than the rest of us combined."
"…Seph—Sephy?" he yawns.
"Think of it like a therapy study group!" Zack continues, undeterred. "You, me, and Sephiroth… Oh! And Genesis and Angeal can come too! They'll be our wing-men!" Zack waggles his eyebrows, obviously pleased with his own joke. "Get it?"
Cloud gapes at him.
Gapes as Genesis rolls his eyes and mutters, "Idiot." under his breath.
As Zack chides Genesis this time – "Hey. Loveless doesn't count as therapy since you still tried to burn the world to the ground."
And as Genesis chooses not to respond for once, his clenched jaw the only sign that he's not impressed.
"A…" Cloud finally finds his words. "A… study group…?"
"Yup!"
Cloud blinks once. Twice. Three, then four times in quick succession, but when Zack's smile doesn't falter, he yawns (even though he tries to fight it) and tells the teen, "You… ahh… You're so weird…"
Zack laughs. "And that's what you love about me, buddy!" he says, Cloud staring up at him (embarrassed? impressed? awestruck?) until Zack places a hand over Cloud's heart and applies gentle pressure to his chest. "But we can talk about that more later, after you take a nap."
"What…? No…" Cloud still tries to fight it. "I'm not—" he yawns— "I'm not tired."
"Of course you're not, bud," Zack agrees, as patiently as if Cloud was a child insisting he would be a dragon when he grew up. "You're just yawning cause you're wide awake."
"Zackkkk…" Cloud complains, but to no avail. The mattress rises up to meet him and he sinks down into its warmth.
So soft.
"Y'know…" he yawns, his eyelids fluttering shut of their own accord. "I built a shrine…"
"Oh, yeah?" Zack asks, absentmindedly, and pulls the covers up around Cloud.
"The Buster Sword…" Zack's hands still, his confusion palpable for someone who fidgets so much normally. "I left it… in Aerith's church… surrounded by her flowers…"
"Spike…"
The comforter smells of sandalwood and the ocean breeze, and Cloud almost loses himself to the memory of Denzel and Marlene building a sand Chocobo on the beach of Costa del Sol.
No.
He needs to… needs to…
"Whenever… things… were hard…"
Let Zack know…
"Or… or I just… missed you…"
That he's not the only one…
"I would… talk to your sword…"
Who had grown a little dependent…
"Almost felt… like you were… actually there…"
Zack sniffles, but otherwise is surprisingly quiet.
"Thanks…" Cloud breathes. "Thanks… for being… my hero…"
"You…" Zack's voice wobbles "You got it, bud."
"…Be here… when I… wake up…?"
"Of… Of course!" Zack sniffles, again. "Not even a planet-destroying Calamity could tear me away!"
The 69th floor is eerily quiet when Lazard steps off the elevator, the atrium stretching out before him, dark and twisted like a labyrinth. He casts a wary glance over his shoulder, but no guard greets him, no SOLDIER salutes, the backup he had sent markedly absent.
Right.
He allows himself a moment to straighten his blazer – a single moment of weakness – and then takes the stairs up to the executive suite, his pace as determined as he swears he himself is.
Perhaps Luxiere and Essai are already by the President's side. Or perhaps the President had dismissed them because he no longer trusts his own military. But with each step that Lazard takes, he finds it harder to ignore the thought that this was all just a setup. That Rufus had found his Directors wanting and was now picking them off one by one.
If so – if Lazard was next – then he planned to face his end, planned to face the Minotaur of this dusky cavern head on. He wouldn't run. Certainly not like Palmer had… straight into the arms of the Turks sent to collect him. All he hopes, though, is that he's the knight in shining armor of his story, rather than the hapless victim.
Or, Gaia forbid, the damsel in distress.
He takes another step forward (the carpet beneath his feet looking disturbingly like the blood of every enemy the President had disposed of), and almost doesn't notice the glass doors sliding open for him with a nearly silent hiss. Almost doesn't register the fact that he's no longer alone until the sound of muffled voices reaches his ears.
"You're under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Cadet Cloud Strife!"
He recognizes it well enough – it was the same clip that had convinced him to venture all this way, after all. To seek his death, perhaps. But he had acknowledged the writing on the wall by now. How could he expect to be in the President's good graces, how could he possibly think he'll last the rest of the week, if something like this had happened without his knowledge. If all of SOLDIER had been mobilized without his consent.
"I'm afraid the blood loss has gone to your head, you poor thing. You really should sit down."
He takes a cautious step to the right, towards the noise, and curses inwardly when he finds black dress shoes and a shock of red hair peeking up from over the top of the secretary's desk. He knows he shouldn't be that surprised – this was their stomping ground after all. However, it was just his luck that he was stuck with this Turk when any one of the others (even Tseng) would have been far more preferable to deal with. When they weren't the ones who had decided that Funnel Cake was the perfect nickname for him.
He had blanched, head to toe, the first time Reno had said it. Had been terrified that his true allegiances (or lack thereof) had been found out. But then Reno had smirked and explained that he looked all wound up like a funnel cake.
("Lighten up, yo. Funnel cakes are delicious!"
"…Are you saying I'm delicious?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No."
"Then no.")
But he hadn't been linked to Hollander's planned insurrection. Hadn't been arrested that day – or any day since – and had quietly abandoned his plans for revenge, especially when Rufus had taken over and shown that 1) he was far more charitable towards the people of the slums and 2) far more vigilant than his predecessor ever had been. If anything went missing from the SOLDIER budget, he would have known.
Though, hindsight as his companion now, perhaps Rufus had known all along and was just waiting for a more convenient time to get rid of him.
Like now.
"Oh, I do have proof. And I posted it all over the moogle-net."
Reno drops his feet to the floor with a clatter, a deep frown marring his face. However, he doesn't acknowledge Lazard's presence yet. Doesn't even look in his direction, just taps away at his phone, a storm cloud almost visible above his head.
Lazard can still feel his eyes on him, though, like he swears he had every day for the past year.
He doesn't move.
Doesn't dare breathe.
Perhaps he's paranoid. Or perhaps he's just afraid of being ratted out as a traitor now that Rufus had discovered some semblance of maturity. Either way, he remains firmly rooted in place until Reno finishes his business – his text? – with a flourish and raises cold eyes to Lazard's own, an expression like 'Piss me off and I'll shove my electro-mag rod where the sun don't shine' on his face.
If it's meant to unnerve Lazard, it works. Exceedingly well. He opens his mouth to ask after the President, but can't find the words at first.
Reno doesn't poke fun. Doesn't joke that the 'Turk had got his tongue' like he might have any other time. Instead, he raises a single eyebrow, the universal sign of 'Well? I'm waiting.'
"I-Is—" Lazard curses his own weakness (so much for that knight in shining armor theory)— "Is the President in?" he finally asks.
Reno doesn't answer. Not at first. He leans forward in his borrowed chair, props his elbows up on the desk, and sizes Lazard up. Quite blatantly.
Lazard tries not to squirm. Knows that that's as big of a sign of guilt to a Turk as confessing outright. But he just can't help it. His fingers twitch self-consciously by his side, though surprisingly, Reno doesn't jump up and yell – "A-ha! I knew you were a traitor!" Instead, the lightning-happy man relaxes, some of his normal humor bleeding back into his mannerisms. "Checkin' up on your baby brother, eh, Funnel Cake?"
Lazard chokes on his spit. "…How?" How could Reno possibly know that when Lazard's fath—former President Shinra had refused to acknowledge his lineage? Had threatened to dispose of him if the news ever became public?
Reno smirks. "I'm a Turk, yo. We know everything."
The air in the room thins. The darkness reaches out to smother him. However, before Lazard can fall completely down the rabbit hole of anxiety and paranoia, Reno pushes himself from the chair, steps up to the edge of the desk, and holds out one hand towards the stairs, invitingly, his other resting behind his back. "After you."
It takes Lazard a moment to compose himself, a moment to swallow back the bile in his throat enough to remind himself that this was his choice. This was his way of accepting his fate with dignity, unlike Palmer. Unlike Scarlet. So what if Reno's words had seemed pointed? So what if his eyes bore straight into Lazard's soul? If Rufus had decided to get rid of him, then it didn't matter what he had or had not done – he was dead either way.
"Right," he finally decides, and sweeps past Reno, ignoring how the click of the Turk's dress shoes behind him sounds like the only death knell he'll get.
10.
20.
46 steps he counts, and then the doors to his doom open before him, the creature of the labyrinth staring back from his throne.
"Ah, Lazard. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
A/N
- My little head canon is that sometime before Nibelheim, Zack (as a prank) convinced Lazard that all SOLDIERs should have the Stamp song as their ringtone to help boost morale/make SOLDIERs more committed to their cause, but Heidegger overhears, is like "Gya ha ha! That's a great idea!" and forces the troopers to do the same thing. Anyway, once Nibelheim happens and Zack is labeled as KIA, that ringtone (and a pair of sweatpants that Zack forgot at Kunsel's place) are the only things that Kunsel has left to remember Zack by.
- In the Advent Children movie, there's a scene near the Forgotten City where Vincent calls Cloud out for running from his problems. He asks Cloud if he's sure that what he's doing is really about fighting, Cloud has a vision of Aerith asking if it isn't time that he does the forgiving, and then Cloud asks Vincent if sins are ever forgiven. Vincent says he's never tried, and Cloud decides he's gonna try and tells Vincent that he'll phone in the verdict. (The first thing Vincent says to Tifa when he arrives in Edge is "where can I buy a phone?") Marlene is there with them, and is hiding behind Vincent's cloak cause she's mad at Cloud for avoiding them, hence the line about little white shoes peeking out from underneath Vincent's cloak.
- For those who have never seen the show (or just didn't get the references), the chapter title and the phrase 'Makopuff Girl' are a play on 'The Powerpuff Girls', a cartoon show about three girls with superpowers who were created with a mix of "sugar, spice, and everything nice"
