"Oy, old timer, you're raking me over the coals here!" Zack bends further over the three-post fence. "A man's gotta eat."

"You young punks, always griping." The old man crosses his arms. "In my day—"

Cloud shoves Zack out of his body, sending his spirit tumbling onto gray, halftone grass. He sets Zack's arms on his hips and cocks his head rudely to the side.

"In your day, bread cost ten gil," Cloud says gruffly. "Do we have a deal or not?"

"We?" The old man narrows his eyes. Zack lunges up and knocks Cloud back where he belongs, in the back of his mind.

"My brother and I," he lies smoothly. "He's stocking up in town while I scratch up some cash. So what do you say, gramps? One thousand."

"That's way too much," Cloud thinks.

"It's called haggling, bro."

Cloud's transparent figure pretends to pick his nails with his back to the fence. "It's not haggling if you piss him off. Then it's called starving."

"Come on, man, you won't regret it," Zack presses. "That barn will look brand new when I'm done with it. You won't believe your eyes."

The old man scrunches up his mouth and his bushy mustache twitches. "Five hundred."

"Five hundred?" He mimes like he's been stabbed in the chest. "Pops, you're robbing me! Seven-fifty."

"Five hundred, or you get off my property," the man strokes his white beard.

That much will barely buy two days of food. It's almost unbelievable how expensive things are now. Zack pushes off the fence to go, only for Cloud to elbow his way back into the driver's seat.

"Five hundred, plus that cart," Cloud says, nodding at a barely visible wheel peeking from a thicket near the barn.

"Cloud—"

"We need the money."

The farmer flicks his eyes over his overgrown lawn, past two dry flower beds and a crumbling well. Zack does too, squinting through the haze of the void to see a rotting vehicle with two wheels and a bar for pushing. He and Cloud were probably children the last time it was used.

He scrunches his eyebrows together, deep wrinkles pulling at the old man's face like taffy.

"That old thing? What could you possibly want with it?"

"Does it matter?" Cloud sighs, and doesn't fight when Zack pushes back into control. "It's for my riches, obviously. I'm gonna be a super successful mercenary soon, and then I'll need wheels to carry my ill-gotten gains."

The old man studies him, blinking slowly. Zack flashes a hopeful smile.

"You're a weird one, boyo, but… aw, what the hell." The old man throws up his hands and opens the rusty gate. "It's not like I'll ever get my useless nephew to do it. Might as well."

"Congratulations, Cloud. Looks like it's rice for dinner. Again."

"Better than the nothing you were about to feed us."

Zack grabs the man's hand and shakes it a little too vigorously. "Bless you, gramps. You won't regret it, promise!"

"Bah! Enough brown nosing, get to work—"

"Half up front," Cloud interjects.

"Seriously? He's a nice old man, you don't have to be rude."

The 'nice old man' works his jaw peevishly, and stomps into his cottage like he got caught with something.

"He was gonna stiff us." Cloud rolls his eyes, now perched on a crossbeam of the fence with his arms crossed atop his knees. "You're shit at negotiating."

"Thanks for sugar coating it." Zack rolls out his sore neck. He never thought he'd miss his lumpy laboratory bed, but it sure beats sleeping on dirt, and they aren't getting a room at an inn any time soon, not on these wages.

"Anytime." Cloud grins. It almost takes the sting out of his jab. Almost.

The old man comes back with a fistful of bills. He counts out two and thrusts them at Cloud with a scowl. "Ain't got no coins. This'll have to do."

"That's fine." Cloud shoves them in the pocket of the jeans Zack bought when the Turks caught their trail, and his SOLDIER blues became too conspicuous. He walks through the open gate and pulls Zack back into the driver's seat.

"Oh, so now that it's time to work you're done backseat driving?" Zack says.

"Yep."

"So cold."

"Just trying to save you from yourself." Cloud floats as Zack walks, eyes cast up at the sky. It's a clear day, the atmosphere crisp and refreshing like it never was in Gongaga. He takes a minute to appreciate the frosted trees that circle the property and the pale pink of the afternoon sky.

Mount Modeo cuts a jagged edge behind the treeline, an imposing feature that wraps this tiny valley village in a protective ring of stone. Enjoying the bite of winter in the air, he takes a deep breath and wrenches the barn doors open.

Dry air and dust motes rise up to greet him. His nose prickles and hints at a sneeze that never comes. Heady scents of wood and hay flood his brain with the good chemicals and loosen his tight muscles.

Ever since the lab, or more specifically since their time in solitary confinement, the world feels oversaturated and sharp. Rich and vast and unspeakably beautiful. It can be too much to handle, but in moments like this it is transcendent.

Tears cloud his eyes, like they do so easily these days, and he makes himself break away from the moment. He digs his nails into the dry wood of the barn doors just to feel it crunch and steps inside, unconcerned with splinters. The sound sends pleasant tingles down his back.

Intellectually, Zack understands why Cloud hovers around in his spirit form all the time. His body is wracked by mako poisoning, and weakened further by poor food and atrophy. If it were him, he would probably want an escape too.

But at the same time, their captivity birthed in Zack a need to feel and taste and touch every little thing. He loves his body like he never did before, every last inch and nerve ending. Pain, soreness, pleasure—it's all feeling at the end of the day, and with each saccharine dose of it he feels the nightmares receding.

He wants Cloud to have that too, but he insists on living as a stowaway inside Zack's mind. It's almost offensive to him, the way Cloud willingly deprives himself of reality and sensation.

Why he would want to do that after years trapped in darkness, Zack can't fathom, but it feels alarmingly like Cloud not wanting to get better; like the thought of facing the world without Zack standing protectively between them is too terrifying to contemplate.

This anxiety has been burning a hole in his stomach, but it always feels too soon to confront him. They've only been out four weeks, their shaved hair barely grown past their ears. Cloud still can't move his body from the poisoning, and he's only getting weaker from the inactivity. Telling him not to hover when he only has that to return to feels cruel. So he doesn't.

Scanning the interior of the dilapidated barn, he rubs the back of his head ruefully. Even for an ex-SOLDIER with limitless energy, this place needs a ton of work before it'll fit to house animals.

Besides the spotty roof and rotten beams, it's also crammed with rusted scrap and crying out for fresh paint. Six pens take up the bottom floor, each packed with hay bales and smelling suspiciously like there's poop under the stacks.

Thankfully, they only agreed to empty and clean the stalls, or else he'd be here all week. Shame the old man is so stingy. If had the money, Zack could have spent a few days here and made a killing.

Rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, he watches dust swirl through the pillars of light cast by gaps in the old shingle roof and ties his handkerchief around his head to catch the sweat.

"How's the camp?" he asks silently.

Cloud's spirit hovers in the loft, gazing through a square window with mild interest. "I'm sure it's fine."

Zack kicks open the first pen and finds a set of metal picks for moving hay. He tests them out, pleased by the flex of his muscles and the way the metal sinks into the bale.

It's like squishing a pillow or diving into water. A swing, and a plunge, and then gradual, building resistance. He lifts with an easy exhale, and kicks up loose hay as he lumbers out of the stall.

"You shouldn't leave your body so long when I'm not there. It's not safe."

Cloud hums blandly, crossing his arms on the window sill. "The locals think the cave is cursed. Nobody goes there."

"With our luck, they'll suddenly decide to break the curse today." Zack drops the bale with a flush of endorphins, and has to steady himself against the wall.

"Your luck," Cloud says on rote, distant as he slips into contemplation. Zack smiles, knowing he won't hear a peep from him for the next twenty minutes, at least.

Where his own thoughts skip and scatter, Cloud is like a steady stream. His thoughts trickle calmly over smooth rocks, observing the world with a depth and richness of emotion that would surprise people if they knew.

He likes that about him, the way he always has something insightful to say. It's a good compliment to Zack's 'act now, ask questions never' approach.

Sometimes he wonders why a guy like that would willingly subject himself to the clutter and mess of his own mind, but some questions are better left unanswered.

The first two stalls are empty when Cloud leaves the window and plops down on the edge of the loft with his feet hanging off, ready to talk.

As usual he starts in the middle, as if picking up a conversation they never actually started.

"That place Hojo mentioned—the Promised Land—do you think it could be real?"

Zack pauses in his laboring, hamstrung by the sudden turn.

They were forced to think about Hojo for so long, to give him primacy in their thoughts and sway over their emotions, that just having his name uttered takes Zack back to that place.

Without meaning to, he checks the door to the barn and lists three other escape routes should the door be blocked. It's a habit now, a maddening compulsion.

He drops the hay bail he's carrying, and sits heavily on the edge. Cloud gives him a questioning look, until Zack laces his fingers between his legs and blows out a long breath.

"I'm not sure. I want to say no because I want to be done with this shit, but I've seen too many impossible things at this point to rule it out completely. Why? What's got you stuck on this?"

"Hojo…" Cloud says. "He was different that last day. Unhinged."

"I'm surprised you remember it."

"You said once that the Firsts—Genesis, Angeal—that they acted strangely when degradation set in."

"Sure, but Hojo's not enhanced—"

"Unless he experimented on himself."

"He wouldn't," Zack scoffs. "He thinks he's Gaia's gift to humanity, he'd never risk his own skin."

"That's exactly why I think he would." Cloud hugs himself, brows knit tight and his lip curving in a thin, unhappy grimace. "And the pattern fits."

"Where's this coming from? We're free now. We do have to be involved in this," Zack says with his mind, realizing how this would look if someone walked in.

"I'm just saying, something changed when Hojo went away. He's obsessed with bringing Sephiroth back."

"And if he does, he'll be Shinra's problem. Trust me, Sephiroth wasn't the loyal lapdog everyone thought he was. If he comes back, the last thing he'll do is guide Shinra to some mako paradise."

"Would you bet your life on that? Would you bet the world? He's looking for it, Zack. We've seen how far he's willing to go. We should think about what we'll do if he finds it."

"Cloud—" Zack rubs his eyes. "It's a fairy tale. Just words someone found on a rock somewhere. Hojo wasn't in his right mind, that I'll agree with, but—"

"But it's why they did this to us. Don't you want to know if it's true, if any of it was worth something? And they aren't stopping with us. Those new clones in the lab—"

"We can't help them," Zack says sharply. Old guilt gnaws at him, but he grits his teeth and plows through it. "We're barely staying ahead of the Turks, and it's everything I can do just to keep us fed. I get it, Cloud, I really do, but Shinra is the most powerful company in the world. They've got a huge army, limitless money, and a monopoly on mako energy. What can two escaped lab rats do about that?"

Cloud sighs, pulling his knees to his shoulders and turning his head away. "Fine. Forget I said anything."

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

"You obviously are. Look—"

"Sephiroth's on the mountain," Cloud blurts.

Zack blinks. "What?"

"My vision on the truck. It was Sephiroth. Not just a shadow, or a voice, he was real."

The limits of Cloud's sixth sense seem to grow all the time. He's so quiet that sometimes Zack forgets that he sees and hears impossible things all the time. More than Zack does by orders of magnitude. Hell, Cloud found the cave they're hiding in two days before they even reached the valley.

They had stowed away in the back of a cargo truck after crossing the sea on a freighter, and spent the next eight hours hunched between quivering crates.

It had been a rough ride, sitting close for warmth and staring at each other as boredom drilled them into a stupor. Zack had sat there twitching and fidgeting for hours, driven mad by restlessness, circling the drain, and then, out of nowhere—

"Frekihellir," Cloud blurted, sitting up suddenly. Zack jumped.

"Gesundheit," he quipped.

Cloud tried to stand, blinking in confusion at the crates and box-like interior of the cargo truck, until Zack pulled him back down.

"Don't move, you'll lose your body heat," he had said. "You're safe. It's been about an hour. We're on our way up Mt. Modeo."

His partner's brow had furrowed, and Zack heard his jumbled thoughts muttering.

"We're too close. We need to turn around."

"What are you—we have to pass the mountains before it snows. We talked about this." Zack grabbed his hands and rubbed warmth into them, frowning. "Too close to what?"

Cloud winced, and Zack shuddered from the echoing pain in his own head. He plowed through the crop of hair that had grown on Cloud's head, thick and wiry, just long enough to grip between his fingers if he left his hand flat.

His partner when still and deathly quiet. Wind whistled, cold and unforgiving against the riveted wall of the truck.

"Cloud?" he whispered, leaning close. "Cloud, what are you seeing?"

"I don't know, I don't know. It's so dark. There's ice all around me."

"No, there isn't. You're safe. Look at me, you're safe."

"Frekihellir. The cave of the devourer." Cloud blinked, trailing off. Cloud's body whined, rocking its head like it did when the poisoning got bad, but his voice became louder and clearer in Zack's mind. "That's where we'll be safe. In the valley."

"Which valley?"

Cloud's body started trembling, and Zack pressed his head into his shoulder. It usually calmed them down, the scent of each other and the closeness. It didn't do much, loud and cramped as the cube truck had been.

"Bari beyond Valborne."

He hadn't known where that was, but he found out. He'd carried Cloud through a particularly hellish day of walking, dreaming the whole way of buying a wagon and training a wild chocobo to pull it.

Which led them here, to the hidden village and the barn with two-year-old dust.

"You're sure?" Zack says, quiet and stern. "We've both seen stuff that turned out to be nothing."

"No, I'm sure. It's him. He's calling me."

"Tell me you didn't answer. Damn it—" He punches the bail, grinding his teeth. "I'm so tired of this shit. I just want it to be over so I can—"

The bang of a screen door crashes over the property. Zack jumps, remembering where they are, what he's supposed to be doing. He swings the spikes back into the hay bail and tries not to look like he was just in deep conversation with a ghost.

"We can talk about this later," he says silently. "For now, we've got our hands full just finding food and staying one step ahead of the Turks."

Cloud fades away, back to his body or more likely the house they built in his mind. Zack can't even be mad because it's exactly what he told him to do.

He throws himself into his work, happy to silence his turbulent thoughts with sweat and lifting. He empties the stalls, greases the rusty latches, and scoops up the old manure that was, in fact, left to fester under the hay bails for fuck know's how long.

By the time finishes spreading fresh hay over the clean floor he's the good kind of exhausted. His body hums with satisfaction, and he almost isn't dreading going home.

The old man pays him the other three hundred, and he does his best not to look ungrateful. As a SOLDIER he spent more than this on his morning coffee. He wouldn't have even drawn his sword for five hundred gil back then, let alone toiled for four hours in the cold.

It's unfair. Humiliating. Frustrating. It's also the most money they've had since crossing the sea. It means they can eat for the first time in three days.

He smothers his discontent in a smile and goes to untangle the wooden cart from the weeds. It's rickety, a little squeaky in the wheels, but it works. With a SOLDIER's strength it's not even heavy. Wherever they go next, he won't have to carry Cloud on his back. He supposes that's worth some sweat.

The lush valley is in full sunset although it's only mid-afternoon. Between the seasonal shortening of the days and the mountain raising the horizon by several thousand feet, the days feel incredibly short here.

Lights start winking on inside of cottage windows as darkness settles over the outskirts of the village. He stops at the general store minutes before it closes, wishing he'd done better at math in school. Calculating which combination of food will give them the most calories per gil is a lot harder than it should be.

The clerk taps her foot as he paces up and down the aisles, and eventually gives him a discount just to make him leave. He feels like a kid who got away with stealing cookies. The cloth sack is heavy with rice, potatoes, and meat. Canned meat. Heavily processed and probably made of giblets, but still. Actual protein with salt and fat and needed nutrients.

It almost makes up for the egregious price of winter clothes. He checked them on his way out, mindful of the weather that's gotten steadily colder each day, and got the shock of his life.

It cost five thousand gil just for a coat. Three thousand for snow boots. Five hundred for each pair of socks, and the same for wool hats. He'd have to work for a month to afford one set and he needs two.

They've woken up with their breath fogging out of their mouths and frost dusting the trees ever since arriving at the northern continent. The first snow can't be more than a few days away, but there's nothing he can do about it and so he tries to focus on the triumph of his meat purchase.

Placing the sack in the bed of the cart, he pulls his earnings up the winding road into the foothills. The cursed cave is easy enough to find, thanks to the many totems and warning signs the locals erected along the trail.

The wards are tall, narrow beams with faces carved into them, though he can only guess at their purpose. He imagines they're supposed to protect the town from evil spirits, frightening them away before they leave the woods.

It's somewhat ironic, the locals' fear protecting him and Cloud from discovery just like he imagines the totems are meant to protect them. For that reason, he feels an affinity with the bulging eyes and carved teeth. He touches each one as he passes, his fingers grazing over the local's offerings of coins on string and beaded jewelry.

Finally he finds the mouth of the cave, pitch black and surrounded by stone statues. The cart barely fits between them, but he pulls it through, afraid a hiker or shaman might walk past and see it.

The embers of a dying fire give off a faint light, just enough to see shapes and shadows. Cloud's physical form lies motionless where Zack left him, bundled up on the bedroll in the warmest clothes they own.

"I'm back," he murmurs, crouching to clear the low ceiling.

"I heard you," Cloud says. His real voice is gravelly and barely audible over the wind, but it's music to Zack's ears. He slips a hand under his head and sits him up against their luggage. He leans in for a 'hello' kiss, and runs his fingers through spiky hair.

"You missed a riveting shopping trip. There was math. Lots of math. And bargaining."

"Now I do regret leaving," Cloud says dryly. "How much extra did you pay?"

"I got a discount, thank you very much," Zack huffs. He shuffles to sweep dry leaves into the coals, blowing between his hands to bring the fire back. The pressure of Cloud's attention pricks pins and needles up his back, but he keeps his head down. He feeds the fire a steady diet of pinecones and sticks until it's a proper blaze and the wall around his mind itches with the nervous energy pouring off of Cloud on the other side.

Zack sucks his teeth, and sighs. "How often do you hear him?"

Cloud's spirit contracts into itself, and he regrets being so blunt. He pulls three thick logs from the stack and arranges them on the fire.

"I won't be upset, I promise. Just tell me. How long has this been happening?"

"Since the lab," Cloud mutters.

Zack has to dig deep to keep his promise. "That long?!"

"I didn't want to alarm you."

"Yeah, because this is much better. This way, I'm alarmed and pissed."

Cloud sighs. "This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Cause you knew I'd be mad? Well guess what, I wouldn't be if you told me right away!"

"I know, okay? I'm sorry. At first I was just waiting for the right time. You were working so hard to keep us safe already and I didn't want to dump more shit on you. But it turns out there's never a good time to say something like this and—I guess I got caught up in the fantasy that he'd just go away if I ignored him."

"But he didn't." Zack surmises.

"Yeah."

He hunches over his crossed legs. He understands. Things have been hard, not at all like the fantasies of freedom they constructed in their heads. Reality is heavy sometimes, compared to the quiet and stagnancy of living in dreams.

Cloud's energy shifts and squirms behind him, unused to him being so quiet and opaque.

"Well, you told me now. I guess that's what matters." He takes a deep breath and blows it out. "Let's get you taken care of."

"The geezer kept you late."

Zack laughs as he pushes up, wincing at the soreness in his legs. "Yeah, talk about stingy. He wouldn't fork over the cash until I scrubbed every damn stall. As if the sheep aren't just gonna shit all over it again! Crabby old bastard—"

Cloud ripples with amusement, and Zack hauls him up by the armpits.

They have a routine by now, comfortable to both of them despite the excessive intimacy of several steps. It takes a lot to keep a body working, stuff people take for granted when they're healthy like walking, washing, going to the bathroom.

They do that first because it's the worst, ripping it off like a bandaid. Then Zack boils water for the canteens while Cloud complains about whatever food he bought.

The complaints become mutual as they settle down to eat, because Zack's a terrible cook and they don't have any seasonings. And finally, after Zack pesters Cloud into several reps of assisted exercise they shake the dust off their bedroll and quiet down for the night.

This part they both like, despite the hard ground and the poor excuse for a pillow that they fashioned out if an old t-shirt stuffed with weeds.

Zack pulls off his sweaty flannel and socks once he's gotten Cloud tucked in, tossing them by the fire to dry and worming into his usual spot under Cloud's arm.

It's peaceful in the woods, but never silent. Tonight wind whistles past the cave entrance in a pitchy drone, a quiet baseline to the swishing of aspens and the distant call of snowy owls.

Every now and again the remains of the fire pops, and sparks dance on the low ceiling like their own personal lightshow.

Despite the trials of the day he's content. Exercise and a full stomach will do that to a guy. He traces a circle with his finger over the hollow of Cloud's chest.

"I would do anything for you," he says. "You gotta know that. There's nothing you could say that would drive me away."

Cloud pinches his brows, and his breathing takes on a determined edge. He turns his head, just enough for Zack to see his subdued expression and the smudges under his eyes.

"What if I… asked you to take down Shinra?"

Zack frowns, following the rise and fall of ashes in the fire's plume. It's a terrifying question. A potentially fatal question. He presses his face into Cloud's shoulder, feeling him live and breath.

"I'd say that's a pretty tall order."

Cloud shuts his eyes, grunting with the effort of moving his head back to center. Zack swallows the lump in his throat.

"That's not a no," he adds, scared stiff but accustomed to the feeling. "But you gotta know that revenge wouldn't fix us. It wouldn't undo anything they did."

That's a gift he'd gladly give, if it could even be done. Curing Cloud's mako poisoning, ridding them both of the J-cells that mark them as Shinra monsters, he'd do it in a heartbeat if he knew how.

Blunt fingers curl against the small of his back, the nearest thing to a caress that Cloud can manage. It's not an 'I love you' in the conventional sense, but it feels like one. It's like Cloud trying his best, and that's enough to make affection swell in Zack's chest like bath bubbles and sea foam.

"No, but it would stop them from doing it again," Cloud says.

Zack slips his hand under Cloud's shirt, feeling his smooth skin and prominent ribs, avoiding the healed incisions and perfectly square sample scars.

The touch draws a quiet gasp from his throat. Zack grins, nipping his ear.

"Maybe start with something a little less ambitious. Something like, 'Please, my smoking hot paramour, won't you kiss me? Right here in front of everyone!'"

"In your dreams."

Zack laughs, pressing closer into Cloud's side and reveling in the way their spirits flare and synchronize at the touch.

"We do a lot more than kiss in my dreams," he says. Mouthing and sucking along Cloud's neck, he plucks their bond like a string; drawing it tight with his lips and fingers and then releasing, feeling the vibrations under his skin.

Cloud's pulse is loud and encompassing from this close. Slow, steady, reassuring in its strength.

Despite everything they're still together, still alive. It scares him, the outer limits of what he'd do to keep it that way.

"I wish I could touch you too," Cloud murmurs. "I feel so useless. I hate it."

"You'll get better. I know you will."

Pain and love clash in the open channel of their bond, an unfortunately familiar sensation.

"I hope you're right," Cloud rasps.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm Zack Fair. I'm always right."

Their kiss is necessarily one-sided, but far from unreciprocated. He lingers there, wanting to give him as much good feeling as he can, even if it's not what either of them really wants.

When gravity gets to be too much he pulls away, feeling like he left something behind. He brushes Cloud's spiky back one more time, and rests his head on his shoulder again.

"Sweet dreams, you perv. Show dream Cloud a good time."

"You're so jealous," Zack snorts. "How can you be jealous of yourself?"

"Easy. Just bag someone way over your league and insecurity does the rest."