Zack is dying.

The first word she hears in five years and it's from the earth beneath her, speaking of seeping blood.

Her initial reaction is astonishment that it's him, and then horror as reality fully hits her:

Zack is dying.

She only stops to grab her metal rod, and then she's racing out of the church, through the slums, past bystanders, under the rainwater that drips from the plate's cracks and crevices, to Midgar's edge, and for those precious minutes the Planet is drowned out by the rowdy people and her thundering heart because

Zack is dying.

But he's close to the city, close, and maybe—please, Mother, please, give me your strength—she can heal him.  She barrels into a thug and barely notices, never cares, only dodges the hand grabbing for her shoulder and keeps up her mad sprint.  There is nothing in her mind except for whispers of death and a prayer for one more chance to see Zack, because even if he didn't love her she loves him, loved his eyes and his smile and his laugh and

He can't die.

She leaves Midgar's borders.  The walls have always been a barrier in her mind—my steel cage is this large—but today they don't exist, she exits through the gate as though she's an ordinary citizen and dares any Turk to think of stopping her; even Tseng would find his face met with the firm whack of a rod.  No one chases her.  She doesn't think on the lack of surveillance any further as she runs out into the rainstorm pouring over the region.

Green eyes sweep the landscape, but she doesn't slow down; what's close for the Planet could be a marathon under a person's feet, and hearing (feeling) his shuddering breaths in the church doesn't guarantee he's in shouting distance.  So now that she can hear the Planet once more, she asks in halting words, "Where is he?", and the Planet whispers back:

He's dead.

The dry earth surrounding Midgar has drunk down the rainwater, turning patches of land into dark, chunky mud.  Her foot plunges into the sludge and she trips, catches herself on her hands, and continues to fall.  On hands and knees, there's nothing she can do except stare at the pool of rain that reflects one wide eye and the pale cheek beneath and trembling lips. She's too late; she's helpless.

He's dead.

She thinks she hears a cry of pain.  It's not Zack, not her, not even the Planet, but an echo from the distance.  Cold and shaken, she can't be sure it's not a rumble of thunder from a cloud above.  Maybe the sky is mourning, she thinks as the rain drums its beat on her back, and then: it should be.

Zack is dead.