A/N: This story takes place in the same universe as Haunting, Stitches, Sickness, and Drain. However, it is not necessary to read those stories to understand this one! They'll just be referenced here and there. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Torture references, PTSD, violence, some gore, blood, starvation, and other such triggers. Please remember to protect yourselves before all else!

Trauma (n)—from Greek: A Wound
Traum (n)—German: Dream

Chapter One

He had not run so fast in years. Not since the war, when the long distances of Wutai stood before him. Not since a burst of sustained speed was all that stood between him and being obliterated by a fire bomb. Even that had not made his heart race like this sprint did. He raced down to the Third Class training rooms, and slammed the doors open before they could automatically part. The mechanisms cracked and groaned in displeasure at the violence.

"Cloud!" Sephiroth snapped the name, and did not even have the energy to spare to scold himself for being sharp.

Cloud whirled from where he'd been practicing against a punching bag, wearing only in his tank top and uniform pants, the Soldier's belt still gleaming new around his middle. His eyes widened when he saw Sephiroth standing in the doorway, and Sephiroth saw shock in his eyes. He must have looked like a whirlwind incarnate. He didn't care in the slightest.

"They found him." He bit the words out as quickly as he could, then shoved away from the door to start running again. Cloud had been his first stop, and he would make no more.

He heard the shouts of confusion from the other Thirds, but they weren't important. What was important was the sound of a pair of feet following him at a breakneck pace that was hopelessly slow compared to his own, but still as quick as they could be.

Sephiroth reached the stairwell and did not even pause to consider running down them one flight of steps at a time. He vaulted the railing and let gravity drive him downwards with all the speed it could. He landed in a crouch that still strained his knees. Sixty flights of stairs was a long way up.

"Seph." Called Cloud's voice above him, breathless but still easily heard.

Sephiroth lifted his head, and rose, nodding firmly to the blue eyes overhead as a blonde head peered over the stairs. Cloud vaulted after him with a grunt of effort, and plummeted. Sephiroth took one step to the left, and gave a short jump to meet him in the air before landing together and setting him on his feet. Then they were off again, running towards the transport area.

"He's alive?" Cloud gasped out behind him.

"It's bad." Sephiroth forced his panic back, made his legs move slower, forced himself to accept Cloud's sprint as enough speed. "He will live."

"How far out are they?"

"Two hours." Sephiroth said bleakly. "Driving as fast and safely as possible. No helicopter could reach them. They were in the forest."

Cloud, bless him for understanding, didn't ask why they were sprinting towards the transports when there was nothing they could do for another two hours. He didn't even slow down.

Sephiroth slowed to a stop when he came to the vast room that opened out into the transport area of Shinra. He stared out at the closed door to the enormous garage fixedly, and felt every piece of him quivering in tension. Cloud appeared at his shoulder a moment later, one of his hands lifting to grip Sephiroth's elbow. Which of them the grip was to support was unclear.

"he was in enemy hands?" Cloud asked softly, his voice thready. Sephiroth looked over, and found that from the look on Cloud's face he still could not tell how much of the weakness in his voice was from breathlessness.

"Yes." He replied grimly.

"He's been missing for weeks." The strain in Cloud's words was obviously emotional now, and his rosy cheeks had paled, leaving him looking sickly with shock.

"Two weeks, three days, fifteen hours." Sephiroth affirmed, aiming for a note in his voice that would not be too grim. "He was trained to withstand such things, Cloud."

"So was I." Cloud whispered. If anything, his face had grown darker at the reminder. "What the hell took so long?"

"Lack of information." Sephiroth rasped in reply. "Cloud, I did everything I could. And I don't doubt that the Turks did as well."

"I'm not blaming you." Cloud shook his head, squeezing Sephiroth's elbow. "I'm sorry. Did they tell you anything else?"

"That he was wounded, and they were working on healing him."

"Okay. Thanks for coming to get me."

"You'll stay?"

"Try to make me leave." Cloud pressed closer, ducking under Sephiroth's arm to press against his side. "It's been too long since I saw that idiot's face."

Sephiroth looked out towards the closed door, his eyes tightening at the corners with stress. He swallowed slowly, curling his arm around the man he relied upon.

"Please be okay, Zack." Cloud whispered at his side.

Silently, Sephiroth echoed the sentiment

They stood together silently for the first hour. Then the Turks arrived. Sephiroth noticed them the moment they stepped through the door, but if Cloud did, he didn't comment on it. Sephiroth slid his gaze over long enough to catch eyes with Tseng. The man's dark eyes were calm and silent. He shook his head slowly at Sephiroth's inquiring look. No new information.

Cloud shifted, stretched, then settled at Sephiroth's side again. His lips were pulled into a tight frown, and the waiting was obviously wearing on him. He was no better at staying in place and being patient than Sephiroth was. They were made for action. Most Soldiers were.

At least now they knew he was alive. The weeks before hand had been an endless litany of uncertainty—of stress that made them snap at each other, and desperation that drove them back together despite their petty arguments. It was unspeakably lonely with Zack away, in was that Sephiroth had not thought he would miss.

He wondered if Cloud had felt the same void, of if his had been more keenly painful, with the empty apartment he shared with the jovial First where he'd kept having to return to pick up just a few more clothes for one more day with Sephiroth.

It took an hour and forty six minutes. Sephiroth counted. That was remarkably good time for a trip as far as the coordinates he'd been given. When he spied the redheaded Turk behind the steering wheel he knew exactly why. Zack was bewilderingly popular with the Turks. Without their work, Sephiroth was unsure the young First would have been found at all.

At his side, Cloud stiffened a moment, frozen stock still before jolting forward. Sephiroth stopped him with a careful hand to his chest, holding him in place.

"Let the medics go first." He murmured. "We follow them. His safety takes precedence."

"Right." Cloud whispered in a voice that was painfully rough.

Sephiroth watched the transport doors open—Watched them maneuver out the stretcher. His heart sank as he realized part of him had been waiting—hoping—For a burst of laughter from the inert form on the stretcher.

Zack did not laugh. He did not move. From a distance, it was hard to catalogue his injuries. Sephiroth tried to pretend that the discoloration on his skin was just from grime. He tried to mentally explain away the dark circles around Zack's closed eyes and the taut paper-thin skin cracked over his lips. He tried not to notice the sickly glow about him that spoke of a body burning too much mako to compensate for exhaustion—starvation—brutality.

"Zack…" Cloud whispered beside him, trailing off into silence.

"He is resilient." Sephiroth spoke the words with a comforting intent, but they were as much for himself as for Cloud.

They followed the medics, and Tseng drifted behind them, pausing only long enough for Reno to fall into step just behind him. The Turks shadowed them in silence, and something about the quiet was deeply, horribly unnerving. Reno had been Sephiroth's company-required escort more than once. The redhead had never once been silent.

Medical was prepared. Cloud and Sephiroth followed only so far as the entryway, then they were stuck again, watching him be wheeled through. This time, at least, they had one thing to do. Sephiroth turned towards the Turks only a beat before Cloud did.

"You found him?" He asked, sharper than he'd meant to. Cloud's arm tightened around his waist in warning, and he bit the inside of his own cheek in rebuke.

Reno was fidgeting. It was a strange look on him. His blue eyes were hunted, wired. He glanced around the waiting room as though the sweep of his gaze would uncover a thousand traps and dangers.

"Yeah, yo." He muttered after a moment, fingers twitching as he forced them down to his sides. "Fucked up scene."

Tseng didn't argue the impromptu interrogation, but Sephiroth did take note that he slid a recorder out of his pocket and flicked it on silently.

"Where was he?" Cloud asked. Sephiroth was glad to be overridden. He knew the right answers to ask for a deposition. Not the right ones to ask for a friend. "Is he okay?"

"'Okay' is a really broad concept." Reno choked out with a laugh. "Really, really broad, yo. From Turk standards? He's okay. He's breathing, and it's not because someone's making him, so for that form of 'okay' yeah. He's okay."

"Reno." Tseng's voice was low and unusually gentle. It reminded Sephiroth of the quiet mutters he'd heard that the head Turk was soft on the redhead in ways that had nothing to do with professionality and everything to do with paternal instinct.

"I know." Reno's voice was biting as he replied, and his lips pulled back in frustration for a moment before he schooled his expression once more. "I know."

Cloud caught a breath at Sephiroth's side, and the General looked down in time to watch the younger man scrub his free hand roughly over his face, rejecting what must have been tears in his eyes. He forced his body to respond correctly, and gave Cloud a small squeeze, though in truth he felt nearly nothing himself. It was as though he had been hollowed out from inside.

"Calmly." Tseng instructed. "From the beginning."

"Found a signal yesterday," Reno rasped. "Or Rude did. Some shortwave radio in the middle of nowhere. They didn't remember to tune it down at night. Radio waves carry further at night, y'know?"

Sephiroth did know. He managed to remind himself that he knew what rhetorical questions were before he answered needlessly.

"They were talking about a captive, and some video they were planning. Propaganda bullshit, yo. Partner and I figured we'd check it out," The Turk's hands started to shake as he spoke, and he shoved them into his pockets. "No harm in trying. We hadn't found him anywhere else, and it was the closest lead we'd had. Glad we brought the medical equipment…"

"He was there." Sephiroth filled in.

"Oh yeah." Reno choked. "With twenty five Wutaian resistance fighters. Only about three of them were actually even Wutaian. The rest were just these dumbass Midgar revolutionaries, those absolute fucking—"

His rage built with every word, until Tseng reached out. A gentle touch of his hand to Reno's sleeve sent the younger of the suited men into silence. Sephiroth watched in dim recognition as the redhead put mental walls in place. They slid down like a store shuttering, his open fury morphing smoothly into a calm, smirking confidence. Cloud twitched at Sephiroth's side, but he didn't object to the wry, ugly smile twitching Reno's thin lips. Sephiroth wondered if he recognized the effect from being with him for so long.

"We didn't stick around to ask them what they wanted." Reno's voice had turned into a slow, calm drawl as soon as he'd put up the walls. There was something that Sephiroth found far more unsettling about hearing him speak calmly over this, but he wanted information more than comfort. "Killed 'em all. Most of 'em quickly. Damn shame, that."

"And Zack?" Cloud prompted.

"Caged." Reno replied. "Awake. Starved, beaten, and trussed up tight enough I doubt even our Sephiroth could have gotten free. I'll spare you the details. You'll find them out soon enough."

"He was awake?" Sephiroth asked softly. "Did he say anything?"

"Once I got him loose and cut the gag off him?" Reno asked, his eyes slanting up to Sephiroth. "Tell you the truth, I couldn't make out many words. He was screamin' plenty, though."

"Oh gods." Cloud whispered, sounding sick.

Sephiroth held him a little closer. Reno's eyes flickered, and his cold expression faltered. Sephiroth knew the feeling—wanting to put aside the mask and be genuine, and knowing that to do so would be to lose control. The urge seemed to vanish when heavy footsteps joined them.

Rude walked into the room, a towel working between his steady fingers. Reno gravitated to him like elements binding, but did not fall against him or lean into his arms. He just went to his side and stayed there as Rude worked cracked brown blood off of his fingers.

"We should sit." Sephiroth said after a moment, his voice low. He didn't know why he bothered involving Tseng in the gesture, but his eyes flicked to the man as well as Cloud when he spoke.

The Turk shook his head, even as Rude did.

"Full debriefing." He explained shortly. "General, I know I don't have to tell you. He should not be alone."

"He won't be." Sephiroth swore, his voice so vehement that Cloud gave a little startle at his side.

Tseng nodded. "We will do our best to ensure you are prepared."

Sephiroth tipped his head to acknowledge the words, moving towards the seating area to settle and wait.

"Look." Reno blurted, taking a half step forward. Cloud paused before Sephiroth and turned back to the obviously distraught Turk. "If he needs anything, you call us in. And screw the rivalry."

"You got it. Thanks for bringing him home." Cloud replied quietly. "We owe you."

They were left alone once the Turks departed. Sephiroth sank stiffly into a seat, fighting to keep his tense muscles relaxed enough not to harm either Cloud or the waiting room. At his side, the Third-Class managed to sit still all of three minutes before he was antsy and fidgeting.

"You're alright." Sephiroth murmured, keeping his voice quiet enough that not a single nurse so much as glanced over.

"Nothing's alright." Cloud countered softly. "It's never been him hurt before, Seph. He keeps an eye on us, and he's helped me so many times, but he's never been the one who needed backup."

"He has needed us before." Sephiroth argued with a quiet shake of his head. "And you have always been there for him."

"You have too." Cloud muttered, shoving Sephiroth with his shoulder. Sephiroth wanted to argue, but he could not bring himself to disappoint the young man with reminders of the strained stiffness between himself and Zack following Angeal's death.

"We may not be the perfect people to help him," Sephiroth admitted after a long moment, "But we are his friends. He chose us to be so. Surely that means he knows we can be relied on."

"I've never had to before, you know?" Cloud whispered. "I've never been the person anyone turned to for backup."

"I know a certain mouse and a certain General who would disagree." Sephiroth murmured, his voice low and his eyes averted.

"It's different with you." Cloud whispered, his hands twining together in his lap anxiously. "You would still be fine without me. Just less happy. Zack might really be in trouble."

Sephiroth didn't push the point, even as he shook his head silently at the sentiment. He would not have been fine without Cloud. Not even close. But now was not the time to discuss his pain.

"I will support you and him both as best I can." He swore instead. "I will be there to help you when it is overwhelming, and to keep him company when you need time."

"It might not be that bad, right?" Cloud whispered. "I mean, he's Zack. Nothing gets him down too long."

"That's true." Sephiroth whispered. He didn't say that he thought it would be different this time. They'd spent the last two and a half weeks hoping for the best. They could spend a little longer hoping before reality caught up to them.

Fifteen minutes of silence passed, then Cloud pushed away from him all at once, rising to his feet and starting to pace.

"What if he's not okay?" He asked softly.

"He has friends to help him." Sephiroth replied quietly. "That Second he likes, Kunsel, should be back from his mission within a few days. And he has the flower girl as well."

"Aerith." Cloud corrected, more sharply than usual.

"Aerith." Sephiroth parroted, trying to stay calm and not get riled by the tension roiling through Cloud. "She was there for him when he lost Angeal. I am certain she will be with him now as well."

"What if we aren't enough?" Cloud snapped. "What if he's not him anymore?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you." Sephiroth said bleakly. "I hope that he will be himself, or that he will come back to himself quickly. But I know no more than you do."

"No, I guess you wouldn't." Cloud snapped coldly. "You hardly know how to handle people when they AREN'T close to breaking."

Sephiroth went still and silent. He lowered his eyes slowly, letting out a quiet breath and tipping his head forward. The sound of pacing stopped abruptly, and Cloud approached him in two swift steps.

"I didn't mean that." He whispered, one hand lifting to touch Sephiroth's shoulder gently.

"I know." Sephiroth heard his voice come out too flat, and tried to fix it. He couldn't seem to get any inflection into his words. "You are anxious. I am as well. And you are not incorrect."

"I am." Cloud whispered. "I am. You're great with him, Seph. You work so hard, and you really are."

Sephiroth did not reply, but he did let Cloud draw him forward into an awkward hug. The blond smelled like dried sweat from his earlier workout, but Sephiroth didn't mind. It was grounding, in a way.

"Sorry." Cloud's voice was quiet in his hair.

"It's fine." Sephiroth shook his head quietly, pulling slowly away from the touch. "It has been a stressful couple of weeks."

Internally, he'd feared the same. He could offer Cloud all the support in the world, but that did not mean he would be right in that support. It did not mean his words or his gestures or his knowledge would be of any use. He knew, by the books, every number of things that could happen to Zack in the aftermath of what he'd gone through. He knew the names and practices of a thousand ways to help. Whether he could ever put them into practice was another matter entirely.

Slowly, Cloud forced himself to sit at Sephiroth's side again, but his leg was jumping now with anxiety he could not force back, and Sephiroth no longer found himself able to offer Cloud comfort. It took him a long time to breathe through the well of panic inside himself to place a hand in the center of Cloud's back. He rubbed the tense muscles there in quiet support.

"The most important thing," he whispered after a moment, "is to be united for him."

"Right." Cloud whispered. "I won't snap. I promise."

"And I will do my best to be," Sephiroth searched for the right word a moment. "Emotionally available."

A nurse stopped by with coffees for them not long later. He gave them a quiet, worried smile, but no new information. Cloud accepted his coffee without word, and Sephiroth followed suit.

It was another hour before the doctor exited. She was sweaty, her hair sticking wildly out of her tight bun from where she'd worn a cap moments before. Sephiroth could still see the line of red skin around her forehead left by its pressure.

"I'm guessing you're here for Fair." She said, glancing between the two of them.

"Is he alright?" Cloud stood eagerly form under Sephiroth's arm.

Sephiroth stayed seated. The doctor looked exhausted, and he had a bad habit of intimidating people by moving too quickly or standing too close. Sometimes even by breathing too loud. He kept himself carefully at a mental distance, observing the way she seemed to soften when faced with Cloud's worry.

"He's stable." She said in reply. "And resting comfortably for now. Though knowing you Soldier types that could change at any moment."

"If he wakes disoriented, you may want to have us back there." Sephiroth cautioned after a moment, his voice low and steady. "Even weakened, he is still a First."

"You have basically summarized what I came out here for, sir." She said briskly. "He's not ready to go anywhere, but having eyes on him from someone who stands a chance in hell of restraining him if he's not entirely himself—"

"Understood." Sephiroth said quietly, fighting back his disappointment that his friend was not exactly going to be welcomed home with a hug at once.

"May we see him then?" Cloud asked, a mixture of fear and eagerness in his voice, the emotions tumbling together in a way that made Sephiroth's voice seem all the more flat and empty in comparison.

They were lead to a room where the doctor had them scrub their hands and faces. Sephiroth put up his hair, and forced back the pieces of him that shied away from medical equipment and the smell of sterility. Another wall slid shut between his emotions and his behavior, and he hoped that allowing it to fall closed would not be damaging for Cloud. The blond didn't even seem to notice, and Sephiroth was glad for it. The last thing he wanted was to take Cloud's attention and worry for himself. It should all be focused on their friend.

He never would have made it into the room with Zack without that wall in place. He needed the mental distance just to cross the threshold. The smell of alcoholic sterility so strong that it filled his nose and mouth both. The steady beeps and whirs of the bedside machines measuring his vitals. Sephiroth let Cloud approach to the bedside first, hanging back to study the readouts.

Steady brain function, in proper wave format. He was asleep still, and did not appear currently distressed. His pulse was too fast. Sephiroth knew Zack well, from his cheesy grin to his distinctive scent to his resting pulse of roughly 72 beats per minute. The thready heartbeat hammering at a resting 98 was a grim indication of what they would find.

He allowed his eyes to slide down onto Zack's face, but found them skirting over the reality of him to follow the line of the oxygen mask over his face, checking for twists in the cord that would leave discomfort on his cheeks. He glanced to the pulse monitor over his finger, and the IV line in the elbow of his other arm. There was a bandage over his hand, and another on his wrist from failed IV attempts. It spoke of probable dehydration. He started to move over to check what IV drip he was on when Cloud made a quiet sound of distress that stilled him.

"Oh Zack." The other man whispered, his voice choked with tears. "What did they do to you?"

Sephiroth could not distance himself from that. Not from the raw pain in Cloud's voice. He looked over to watch the man he cared for so deeply for a moment, then forced himself to look at his best friend's face.

Zack looked worse than some corpses he had seen. It was the first thought that entered his head, and it was almost a violent enough mental image to send him into a screaming collapse of his own. He forced his eyes to the monitors again, watching the heartbeat, listening to the rasp of Zack's breath under the oxygen mask, glancing to the brainwaves.

Not a corpse, he reminded himself firmly. And he was not going to be one.

He took a step forward. He felt a flash of gratitude when he saw that Zack's chapped, bloody lips had been tended, something like vaseline glistening on their surface to help them heal and keep them from splitting worse. What he'd hoped was filthiness were mottled bruises, marking Zack's face heavily on one side, leaving his cheek and temple and jaw dark purple and swollen, dissipating into yellow-green bruises over his left eye. His right was blackened of its own accord.

The injuries were bad. The tightness of his skin, and the unhealthy pallor of his usually tan and smiling face were worse. His cheeks were hollow, his brows seeming deeper with his sunken eyes. Sephiroth could pick up the faint glow of mako under his skin still, and his irises shone under his eyelids every now and then in a flicker of the stuff.

"Seph," Cloud whispered, as though seeking reassurance. "Seph, he's glowing."

"It happens." Sephiroth murmured gently. "You've seen it happen to me. When I overdosed on Mako. He's been starved. His body's been burning it for fuel. It is already starting to fade with the intravenous fluids."

"You're closing off on me." Cloud whispered.

"We are in a medical suite, and I am doing my best." Sephiroth kept his voice level, and forced his words to be truthful instead of denying the reality of Cloud's assessment. The other man did not complain again.

"Zack." Cloud whispered instead after a moment, perching gently on the chair beside the bed. "We're here for you, buddy."

Sephiroth watched Zack's chest rise and fall. He knew enough about personal privacy not to pull down the blankets and check on the rest of him. But with only his face telling such a story, he desperately wanted to know what the rest of Zack had been through. But thank the gods, this was not an autopsy, and he would not do as he pleased. Not without Zack's permission. Even if he never gave it.

"He looks bad." Cloud sounded distant.

"Yes." Sephiroth agreed. "But his vital readings are stable."

"Reno said—"

"Reno was highly emotional." Sephiroth said briskly, interrupting the thought before it could be fully formed.

"That makes it worse." Cloud glared at Sephiroth in retaliation. "He's a Turk. They aren't supposed to get emotional."

Sephiroth felt his emotions walling off, and tried to find the balance between distant enough to function and affectionate enough not to wound. "He is here now."

"What are we supposed to do?" Cloud whispered.

"We wait." Sephiroth replied with a bleak honesty that he knew was wrong. He shook his head instantly afterwards. "I'm sorry, that came out badly."

Cloud cast him a brief glance, his blue eyes brimming with tears, but not as angry as Sephiroth had feared.

"I know." He whispered. "Just… Do you think the nurses will tell us what all is wrong with him?"

"It is against procedure." Sephiroth said blandly. "As are we, technically."

"So how are we supposed to help? Cloud whispered.

"If we are lucky, he will tell us what he needs." Sephiroth felt his voice dimming, and tried to make it firmer. Was he making the right expression for this conversation? He was fairly certain he wasn't. He was probably empty-faced again. He hoped Cloud would forgive him that.

The room fell silent, and Sephiroth went back to studying the monitors. He knew what they would say, but it was better. It was better than looking at Cloud, and at the intravenous line that he knew would be aching when Zack awakened, and at the frail-looking man who he had only ever known to be hearty and vibrant.

"Oh gods." Cloud whispered into the silence. "His fingers…"

"How bad?" Sephiroth asked blankly, not daring to look.

"Not broken, I don't think." Cloud whispered. "But he doesn't… He doesn't have any fingernails, and…"

Sephiroth forced himself to take a breath, then slowly turned, walking to Cloud's side. He looked down at Zack's pale, blood-stained hand. At the raw skin of his fingertips. He placed a hand slowly on Cloud's back in silent support. He could offer no more than that. He choked back the scream of anger burning in his throat, and said nothing.

Cloud reached out after a long while, stronger than Sephiroth was in so many ways. His palm rested slowly over Zack's hand, the contact distanced by the gloves Cloud wore to protect their friend from infection.

"We're here, buddy." He rasped after a moment, in a voice that was as raw as Sephiroth's heart felt. "You're safe."

Sephiroth made it an hour before he the itch in his back became too much to bear. He glanced to Cloud's strained eyes, and felt the request to escape die on his tongue. He swallowed hard, bit back on the rising discomfort, and shifted on his feet, still rubbing small, obsessive circles into Cloud's spine.

It was hours before Zack twitched. The sign of life drew a slow sigh from Cloud, and even Sephiroth closed his eyes in relief. Then Zack sucked in a sharp breath under the oxygen mask, and his eyes flickered, still closed for the most part, but mako shining in panic.

"Enough." He rasped in a voice that was not their friend's—so far from the lively first's voice that Sephiroth thought for a moment that it was someone else—that they had been mistaken all this time.

"Zack," Cloud objected swiftly, eyes widening in horror from where they'd softened in relief. "Zack, you're home."

"He's not awake, Cloud." Sephiroth felt how flat his voice was, and every word he spoke with a sickness twisting in his chest.

"Please." Zack sobbed, twisting in the hospital bed. The whites of his eyes shone through fluttering eyelids, his gaze rolling and unaware. "No more."

The heart monitor was racing. Sephiroth pressed a finger to the nurse call button, and drew Cloud away from their panicked, dreaming friend. Cloud struggled in his hold, as involved in Zack's pain as Sephiroth was distant. Sephiroth held him steady until the doctor had appeared, sliding a new needle into the already-hooked IV port. Zack wasn't even strong enough for her to need Sephiroth's help with it.

The First gasped a few more times, breathing like a landed fish. Then he slumped back to the bed, his heart rate finally starting to even out once more. Sephiroth released Cloud with numb hands.

"Twilight sedation?" He asked the doctor, his voice sounding as empty as the VR room computers.

"Just until i'm sure he won't tear himself up when he moves." The woman carefully placed the needle's cap back on, then dropped it into the biohazard containment unit. "It's safe, I promise."

"I know." Sephiroth replied.

"It's bad, isn't it." Cloud whispered, interrupting the calm reality of their conversation with a burst of raw emotion that left Sephiroth feeling weak in the knees somehow. "He's really hurt badly."

"He'll heal fast." The doctor replied after a moment. "Too fast, for all intents and purposes, I think."

"What do you mean?" Cloud demanded.

"She means that Soldiers heal too quickly." Sephiroth sighed, closing his eyes lightly to block out at least one of the too-many stimuli around him. "Our bodies heal before our brains can comprehend the injury fully."

"It's still being researched." the woman sighed. "But Soldiers are more likely to experience psychological breakdowns after injury or physical stress than any trooper."

"He's stronger than anyone." Cloud objected. "I've never seen anything get him down."

"I hope you're right." The woman said softly.

It wasn't until she left again, her head bowed and exhaustion in every line of her that Sephiroth spoke up.

"Cloud." He said softly, trying his best to make his voice gentle. "Don't hold on to that too much."

"It's true." Cloud whispered, shaking his head quietly. His eyes gleamed with tears.

"It is true he does not show his pain readily." Sephiroth agreed after a moment. "That does not mean he is unharmed. After all you would once have said the same thing about me, would you not have?"

"It's different." Cloud whispered, and there was a note like pleading in his voice.

"Not so different as I would like." Sephiroth whispered. "He did not show his pain after Angeal's death either. But it was still there."

"Seph—"

"But it will be different this time." Sephiroth whispered, feeling his voice grow startlingly sharper and clearer. "I will not close my eyes to his pain. Not again."

Cloud met his eyes, and the strain between them, for a moment, was choking. Then Cloud gave a slow nod.

"I know you won't." He admitted. "I know we'll help him."

The words rang hollow over the rush of oxygen and the beating of a wounded man's heart. In the silence that followed, the memory of Zack's words was impossible to block out.

'Please.' Sephiroth's brain repeated, turning the words over and over obsessively in his mind. 'Enough.'

'No more. No more. No more.'