Note: Hmm, if you're reading this chapter than that means you've made it through the first hurdle. Congratulations! Frankly, we're surprised you did. That prologue…wasn't one of our finer moments. To be fair though, Remembering Ravens is better at action (and downright horrible at portraying emotions and, heaven forbid, feelings on paper) and cavtennis6 has an aptitude for humor and romantic comedies (and avoids involving herself in anything angsty and tragic)…yeah. We're not sure what we're doing either. Well, anyways thanks for reading! We really appreciate all of the alerts, favorites, and reviews! Hope you enjoy.

P.S. Sorry for the short chapter (the shortest chapter either of us have ever written for a multi-chap story), but this was the best place to cut it off. On the plus side, half of the next chapter is already written! Which means a timely update next time (unless cavtennis6 has another month like the last one)...

Song(s) listened to while writing: Castle of Glass by Linkin Park (this is so Cloud's theme song for this fic); Awake and Alive by Skillet; Rusted from the Rain by Billy Talent.

Chapter 1: Staring Into the Abyss

"…If you stare into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Cloud blinked, eyes burning from the smoke and ash that littered the breeze. That didn't bother him – he was used to it. What did bother him was the light that emanated from this world, the sunlight that perforated the layer of black clouds that permeated the sky. It was strange. The sun's rays hadn't touched the surface world in years. He was sure that, even if he couldn't see it, he would've felt the warm rays on his skin. So it was safe to assume that Cloud was slightly confused.

The blond stood, legs shaking from the strain. Gaia, his head hurt; a steady pain pulsating from the base of his skull. He clenched his hands and flinched. He slowly shifted the appendages so he could see them, noting the singed shredded gloves and eyeing the lack of scars that should have crisscrossed his fingers. Scratch that – he was very confused. The movement jostled the itchy material that lightly covered his chest. Blue eyes – devoid of that hated color – looked down. The fair-haired man's mouth popped open, a roaring noise enveloping his senses. The clothes…were those of an infantryman's uniform. His fingers pulled at the blue fabric in disbelief. How could this be?

Eyes darting up, he cautiously eyed his surroundings. Fire. Cloud watched the red tongues of flames greedily devour wooden beams and painted walls. The ground was scorched a deep ebony and littered with a fine coat of ash. Where am I? He attempted to take a step forward and nearly tripped over a raised mound. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration. No, not a mound…it looks like…

The blond knelt, a poorly protected hand reaching towards the charred shape. His fingers combed through what appeared to be strands of hair – blond. He flipped the figure over and stared into wide blue eyes, a similar color to his own. The figure was female. She appeared to be in her middle to latter thirties, probably some kid's mother or a man's wife. Not that it mattered now. Dead was dead. And this woman looked like she'd been to hell and back, with stark burns twining up her back and around her legs, and a bloody gash running horizontally across her throat. Judging from the clean cut, it had been delivered by a bladed weapon – probably a sword. Cloud idly ran his thumb across her soot-covered cheek. She looks…familiar. I wonder–

A scream shattered him from his reverie, echoing off the steep rocky cliffs and the burning shells of what appeared to be homes. He knew that scream, knew that voice. Tifa. Not bothering to waste any more time on inane matters, Cloud was off. The scenery rushed by in a whitish-brown blur. He recognized this path, this mountain, but his mind seemed to be unable to place it, unable to connect the dots – if there were any to even connect in the first place.

Breathing heavily – that was weird; he's ran faster than this, for far longer, and hadn't even been winded – he approached the looming metal sore that stuck out awkwardly out of the mountainside and froze.

No, his mind screamed at him. This can't be possible. He would know this structure anywhere, any day, any time– Blue eyes widened as Cloud looked at the Nibelheim reactor with something akin to dawning horror. His body begged him to bolt, to get the hell out of dodge, but…Tifa's scream. He was sure that she was in there. No. He knew that she was in there; he could feel it in the very depths of his soul. She was there, and he would never abandon her. Cloud couldn't, wouldn't fail her twice.

Forcing his quivering muscles to cooperate, he entered into the mouth of hell.

The room was dark, illuminated only through the dull musty red glow emitted from the lights lining the walkway. Some pipes leaked an unknown liquid lazily overhead– judging by the putrid yellow color, Cloud assumed that it was dangerous and best given a wide berth. He blinked rapidly, eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting. The familiar large metal tubs still sat in four neat little rows perpendicular to the main walkway; their eerily glowing portholes granting a view that was only a scratch on the surface of the atrocities that were committed here; atrocities that the Shinra Electric Power Company had knowingly supported. Damn them.

Stubbornly, Cloud shifted his gaze away from the humans-turned-monsters and instead focused on the reason why he had entered this hellhole in the first place. Sprawled out limply across the metal ramp, Tifa lay there. Her white shirt was ripped open across her breasts and torso, blood staining the fabric and clashing harshly against her worryingly pale skin. Cloud rushed over to her, cradling her body against his chest. Tifa… He mechanically checked her pulse, praying to Gaia that she was still alive.

Cloud sighed in relief as he felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeats against the pads of his fingers. He gently lowered her to the ground, and searched his pockets for one of his materia, preferably his mastered Restore or Full Cure. His fingers met nothing. Cloud was again assaulted by the feeling of wrongness. Dazedly, he took another glance at the wound and was surprised to find that it had already been healed. The wound was simply a ropy scar now; a sight he was familiar with, having oft seen the tip of it peering out from under the hem of her midriff-baring attire.

A deafening crash of concrete and metal echoed throughout the building. Cloud swiftly stood and pivoted, automatically reaching for the blade, his beloved Fusion sword, that was normally strapped on his back, only to grasp at thin air. Growling in frustration, his blue eyes thoroughly scanned the area, in search of the ruckus. What he saw left him gasping and questioning what was left of his sanity.

There, piled on top of a mess of blood and debris, lay Zack Fair; the deceased Soldier First class. Cloud just stared; unable to move, unable to think. Unable to do anything at all. What the hell was going on?

The blond may not have had a fancy education with a decorated piece of paper stating his genius like Reeve did, but he was pretty sure that the dead did not come back to life. Well, except in the case of– Cloud immediately cut off that line of reasoning, not liking where that train of thought led to. Instead he forced his immobile body to move, his feet dragging with an almost innate reluctance – was this a dream, a nightmare? Either way, Cloud wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. When he reached the unconscious Soldier, he bent down and hesitantly reached a hand out towards the man's bicep. His fingertips pressed into the solid warmth, feeling the slick blood that coated the tanned skin. This is...real...

Cloud drank in Zack's appearance, filling in the gaps that littered his memory. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the violet-blue eyes were the same as he recalled? The spiky black hair was a bit less...spiky, but it was still similar enough to what he remembered to make a proper identification. Zack's face was both foreign and familiar; unlike Tifa's, whose face brought both comfort and anguish. Gaia, when was the last time Cloud had even seen the man's face? A decade ago? Two? The blond couldn't help but laugh. What kind of person forgot what his supposed best friend's face looked like?

A groan brought his attention back to the present, as the Soldier stirred under his touch. Cloud frowned, angry at his own ineptitude and spiraling attention span. His thoughts were chaotic, untamed. A proper Soldier would order them; a proper hero wouldn't even have to.

Cloud took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and prioritized. Zack was here, bleeding out on the stairs; something had to have made that happen, probably the same thing that had attacked Tifa. A feeling of unease drifted though his core; all of this was too familiar, almost reminiscent of... Cloud growled in frustration. Why couldn't he remember? The reactor, Tifa, Zack...there was something about that combination that set his alarms off. There was something...missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Well, whatever it was, it would have to wait. Regardless of all the unanswered questions and confusion this day had brought forth, there was one thing that hadn't and would never change: nobody was allowed to hurt his friends and live. Period. Cloud stood, ignoring the lightheadedness that suddenly plagued him, and walked up the stairs. He paused momentarily at the jagged hole in the wall, allowing his vision to adjust to the bright blue light, before entering.

In hindsight, he would regret ever stepping foot into that cursed place.