Chapter One - Smoke and Dreams

Ribbons of blood flow from her neck in beautiful meandering patterns, dribbling over the shallow recess at the base of her throat and snaking downward. The crisp red is intoxicatingly vivid against her creamy white complexion. But still, something is pulling me, telling me it's not enough. I take a step back and gaze in scrutiny at my art work, one hand under my chin. Something is still missing.

A distant voice calls my name in an urgent plea, heightening my irritation.

The voice elicits a deep painful need that is inescapable – one that asks for bloodshed. I know what it's asking of me, and as much as I don't want to listen, there is no other option. I am trapped. My hands move by themselves, tightening around the handle of the sword, raising the blade steadily. I am convinced of nothing else so much as adhering to this voice's demands. Another cut is necessary – perhaps above the shoulder or along the left side of the abdomen. Yes, that might satisfy the need. I resume my work, slicing along the soft space above her clavicle; more red slides downward, dripping off the blade and onto the floor. Suddenly the body I am cutting comes to life like a marionette whose strings had been pulled. Her face comes into focus and I realize who she is, though I am unable to react – only to watch.

Aerith inhales with a frightful gasp and twists frantically in a panic, her long chestnut hair twirling in sync with her motions. She remains confined, however, to an invisible cage like always and cannot escape. Wide emerald eyes spill tears down her cheeks and the thin pink line of her lips parts.

She screams out in terror, calling for help, calling for her dead lover. "Zack!"

The sound doesn't register properly in my head.

"I'm right here," my voice soothes, "Don't worry."

The blood flows richer and thicker down her naked body, and a gentle pull of elation expands under my chest. Maybe, maybe, it is enough. Yet still the voice doesn't cease. It screams to me, demanding more. Always more.

More...

Aerith starts screaming.

I bolted upright in bed, every muscle tensed for the worst and unwelcome adrenaline pumping furiously in my veins. The horrific images of her instantly receded into the folds of night, and I struggled momentarily to contend with the clash of dreams and reality. My head pounded, my heart clenched in a tight knot between my lungs. Another dream. Another nightmare. Taking a deep breath, I sat completely still, waiting for the residual panic to fade. Several moments of immediate silence were broken only by the interlude of scattered cars driving past in the street below. Clutching my face in my hands, I wiped the sweat away and stood, arms shaking.

This had been the fourth time in the past month that I'd had the same dream. Every horrible detail remained constant. I always heard a voice commanding me to cut her open just to spill more blood. And I always complied, convinced it was the only way to stop the insatiable urge. It wants blood, needs blood. Though unexplainable, as dreams often are, it always felt right.

Eager to elude the abrasive hunger roaming my thoughts, I carefully opened the bedroom door and treaded lightly downstairs into the bar. Tifa had to have been asleep, given the immense stillness within the building, and Marlene and Denzel were away for the weekend visiting Barret so I was completely alone. Flicking on the light, I poured a glass of cold water and sat on one of the bar stools, one elbow on the counter. The immense calm in the air only magnified the chaos inside my head.

Most disturbing was the feeling of tranquility that accompanied the dream – the movements of the sword, the blood pooling at her feet, the meticulous inspection I made of my work, always searching for a more immediate form of gratification to appease that voice – it all felt natural. Perfectly natural. Until I woke up, of course, and then my brain would register just how wrong it all was and nausea would set in like swift punishment for enjoying the sick deed.

After a sip of water, I propped my head up with one palm and stared down at the grain of the brown wooden countertop. A deep-set fatigue reawakened along with the sickness in my chest, impossible to ignore. This dream always felt too real, too vivid to dismiss. There was always something within me, something that didn't belong, clawing to get out.

Soft footsteps descended the staircase behind me, and I rolled my head to one side to observe the cause of this disturbance.

"Oh! Cloud!" a warm startled voice called, "I...I didn't expect to find you here."

The most beautiful woman stood at the bottom of the stairs, an over-sized scarlet robe wrapped tight around her, and her long black hair disheveled from sleep yet still wondrously attractive.

"Tifa..." I responded quietly, swallowing hard, "Sorry if I woke you."

"No, no," she quickly held her hand up and smiled, "I just couldn't sleep..."

"Me neither."

"Bad dreams again?"

"No, I was just..." I glanced around quickly to find an excuse, "I was just thirsty, so I got some water." I held up the glass in corroboration of my story.

Tifa nodded, though she didn't appear to believe me, and walked behind the bar counter, getting a glass for herself. Water, as well. She sat next to me, so close that our elbows touched. The faint soapy scent of her skin drove away the potency of the blood in that dream, and an awkward silence fell around us. She cleared her throat and drank from her glass. Her rigid posture and fixed stare at some distant unseen object was enough to tell me she'd been contemplating something serious.

I spoke first, not at all trying to hide my concern. "Is everything alright?"

My voice seemed to jolt her from heavy deliberation and she turned to me suddenly, her dark reddish eyes tilted down in a pained expression of worry.

"Cloud... I want us to be together." She said it so nonchalantly, that I almost didn't catch her implication right away. "I'm tired of this ..." she paused, as if searching for a word, "...this tension between us. I want a life with you – a real, proper life together." Her hand suddenly moved to rest on mine and the warm feel of her skin startled me.

"I know." My short reply felt insufficient, just lonely bits of words.

Then I heard it. Almost an echo in the distance. A voice. That voice. That urgency. Just like in the dream, it spoke to me clear as day. A sudden, unwelcome guest in my head.

Without warning, the Jenova cells inside me contracted sharply, and a sudden hot pain coursed along the top of my spine. I turned away from Tifa, absolutely not wanting to alarm her.

"So... what do you think about it?" Tifa went on sweetly, oblivious.

I could only think of getting her away from me because there was no indication as to what caused the abrupt spur of activity in the Jenova cells and I couldn't afford to lose control. Everything happened in slow motion, the pain rippling down through my stomach. My concentration splintered away as the dizziness increased. As much as I wanted to embrace her and affirm that her feelings were completely mutual, I was far more concerned with the origin of the voice in my thoughts, why the sound of it absolutely chilled me, and most importantly, why this burst of unwarranted Jenova activity had suddenly overwhelmed me.

Tifa continued, though her voice was distant, "What do you think about having a life together?"

Still facing away from her, I replied as delicately as I could, "Oh, well, don't we already have a life together?" A sharp new heat began crawling inside my skull.

"Aww, Cloud," Tifa said happily, a smile plain in her voice, "You're right. We do." Her hand tightened around mine, but the feeling was muffled through layers of varying numbness. "We do," she repeated, except this time her voice was a delicate whisper and much closer.

I turned to face her and our eyes met, yet her deep mahogany irises were gazing at me in a way I'd never seen before. The white hot pain creeping down my spinal column paused, if only for a second. The next moment, her lips were pressed against mine, sliding open in a soft kiss. And the world stopped. A kiss. From the girl of my dreams. My figurative dreams, not the literal ones. Certainly not the one I had dreamt recently. Of that blood...

The voice called again – sudden and loud – echoing in my head, cutting through everything else and freezing my thoughts.

But there was no time to react. Tifa moved closer to me, her lips locked with mine, and the gliding warmth of her tongue sent a curious freezing sensation along my skin. Her strength surprised me as she linked her arms behind my neck, pulling me closer still. I complied, and a sudden joy dispersed the stubborn voice in my thoughts, scattering the points of pain traveling through my muscles. Tifa was so beautiful, so incredibly alluring, and her kiss was full and passionate. Despite the spontaneity of the situation, our closeness felt perfectly natural. The light melon taste of her lip gloss smeared across my lips and the sweet scent of her hair filled my senses, dampening my reasoning skills and voiding all prior rationale for keeping her away. I wanted her more than ever. With one hand tracing along her cheek and the other behind her waist, I roughly pulled her body to mine, desperate for her warmth like a drug.

But the gnawing pain returned with a searing flash of white in my vision. It crushed through the core of my chest and the nauseating presence of Jenova cells overtook me in one horrific heartbeat. Immediate chaos broke through my mind in bits of fragmented pain sinking into my joints, stabbing my eyes, twisting my insides into a cold hard mass. And the voice. I heard it, demanding blood. Demanding more than I could offer. A new panic ignited under my skin because I feared it wouldn't stop until I satisfied its craving. Everything expanded and contracted rapidly and I felt myself fading. Fading... Succumbing to its insistence. The voice was pressing inward, and I was losing...

Losing... My vision became dark and my body became weightless... I was floating...

But in a heartbeat, it vanished and I was released without reason. My sense of touch returned first and I found myself leaning against the hardtop of the counter, my hands gripping the edge of the wood-paneling tightly, the comforting warm body of Tifa no longer pressed against me. My vision cleared next, and I gazed around, searching for the owner of the voice that was invading my thoughts, but I could only see Tifa standing several feet away, arms crossed over her chest with a sad look on her face.

"Tifa..." I could still taste her in my mouth.

"It's Aerith, isn't it?" she asked bluntly, as though she expected it all along. Her voice was clear and even. "It's always been her, huh?"

It took me a second to put it all together in my head. Her assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. I tried to explain at once, "No, don't -"

"Cloud," she cut me off with a huff, "I don't know what to say anymore. We all need to move on. I just wanted to move on with you... but..."

The absolute finality in her tone alarmed me. "Tifa..." I wanted to say something comforting, but she turned away sharply and walked towards the stairs.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Cloud. Forget this ever happened," she responded solemnly and retreated upstairs, ascending with a forced quickness.

I tried to stop her. "Tifa, I..."

But she was gone. Frustrated by this misinterpretation, I cursed under my breath, raking my fingers through my hair.

The voice had vanished, and I told myself, tried to convince myself, that it was just a result of my subconscious preoccupation with that dream. And yet the utter feeling of losing control chilled me to a deathly cold. It was hard to tell dreams from reality, and I couldn't be certain whether I had actually heard it or just been confused. Yet remaining downstairs for a few quiet moments of contemplation got me nowhere. The voice did not return, nor did Tifa. With a sigh, I headed upstairs with full intentions of explaining my actions to her. Leaving things caught between a misunderstanding and the truth could only create tension between us, especially after that incredible kiss. And whatever troubles lay in my dreams were irrelevant in light of Tifa's affection for me. My past would not interfere with our future. I couldn't allow it.

The door to her room was shut, but light seeped from the slit at the bottom. I knocked softly. No answer. I couldn't let it go, however. Tifa was much too important to leave in a flurry of confusion. With a bit of hesitation, I pushed open the door and peered in while remaining in the hallway. Tifa sat on her bed facing the wall, shoulders slumped, dark hair pulled to one side, twirling a few strands in her fingers idly.

"Tifa?" I called softly, but she didn't move or even acknowledge that she'd heard me.

Taking a few steps inside, I prepared an apology in my head, knowing how bad the situation appears. Her head turned slightly at my approaching footsteps, but she said nothing.

"I'm...sorry about whatever just happened. I didn't mean to push you away," I mumbled, feeling a sudden need to comfort her.

"It's fine, Cloud. I shouldn't have been so forceful with you," she responded lifelessly without looking up.

"It wasn't Aerith," I said loudly, as if trying hard to convince myself as well.

She leaned to one side and gazed up at me with a scrutinizing expression as though trying to filter out the truth.

"I didn't mean what I said," she replied at last, "About how we all need to move on. It's ok if you're not ready to. I know if I were you, I don't think I could get over that sort of death either. If it had been you –" she stopped herself short and frowned.

"Downstairs..." I began quickly before she could go on, "The reason I paused was because... I thought I heard something. But I guess I didn't."

"Heard something? Like, you were afraid someone was watching us?" Her tone lightened considerably, and her eyes brightened.

"Yeah, something like that," I lied with a little smile, "I think it was just some paranoia. Or a hallucination." Bad choice of words, I realized only after I said it.

"Oh, so... You weren't thinking of –"

"No," I cut her off and walked forward into her room, stopping next to her. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, I was still searching for my next words when the sudden desire for her touch surged through my thoughts. Our relationship had been nothing but tension the last few months, caught between unspoken words and glances, so I was relieved to finally have this confrontation, no matter how inconvenient it may have seemed at first.

Reacting on pure instinct, I embraced her, pulling her close, and my lips were on hers in an instant. Again we were kissing, but the intensity was beyond innocent and a light exhilaration filled me. Everything else was unimportant except her. I wanted everything about her. Every piece of her. One of her hands slid down my back, pulling gently in subtle encouragement. I obliged, holding her jaw to mine with two fingers and slowly shifted my weight, moving closer. My lips moved down to her neck, kissing the smooth skin and trailing to her shoulder.

Everything felt so surreal, I wondered whether it was an illusion. Or a dream.

Chills abruptly tore through the pleasure, halting everything like a flood of ice through my veins. Instantly, my vision dimmed to a gray tinge and Tifa faded away like dust. Ash coated my throat, obstructing my breathing, and I choked, attempting to cough. Then, through the sudden chaos, I heard it. As plain as any voice, it made its demands. There was nothing around me anymore but winding trails of dust and a deep inner pain constricting my lungs.

Cloud...

Simple. Undeniable. The one word I had grown to despise because of that dream. Always a tone of utter command. A condemning reproach if I did not comply. No way around it. It wanted something that would never satisfy. Never.

The urgency of finding some way to please the demands sprung through me, feeding the unknown fear that always crept along my stomach when I heard it, when I felt it. Why was I afraid of it? Why would I do anything to avoid its wrath? To avoid its displeasure? Nothing mattered in light of its arrival. Only making it go away. Blood.

It's never enough, though. I fought against the voice, violently, desperate to return to Tifa. To hold her, to be held by her. A sharp unexpected pain in my lip halted my bitter revolt, and warm blood rushed under my tongue, the thick metallic taste coating my throat. No, this is wrong, I told myself. This is no dream. The voice began laughing in response.

More blood filled my mouth, hot and wet, cleansing the dust from my throat. It was soothing, like a splash of cold water on sweat. I needed to call out to Tifa, to find her or warn her somehow, but I couldn't find any words because I was drowning, blind. Paralyzed by an unknown source, absolute terror griped me because the fear of never being able to return from a nightmare had never felt so real. Liquid filled my lungs, and I struggled for a breath, my chest crushing inward.

And things grew dimmer – the sound of the cruel laughter, the taste and smell of blood, the supreme coldness. Everything diminished until there was nothing. Nothing...

The dull ache in my head gradually faded as light threaded into my vision. Slowly, painfully, I opened my eyes, surprised to find myself lying on the floor in my bedroom. My neck was horribly stiff and I tasted something coppery in my mouth. The muscles in my back were sore as hell. Sleeping on the hardwood floor had been a very stupid idea, although I couldn't exactly remember actively deciding to do so. Everything was a big blur.

Faint patches of yellow afternoon light strained through the horizontal blinds on the window, leaving strips of shadows across my abdomen. One glance at my phone dispelled my sleepiness – it was 4pm. Immediately, I stood, rubbing my eyes while trying to recall the previous night. Suddenly my thoughts went to Tifa, and something within me wanted desperately to know if she was okay, although I couldn't be certain why.

Sleepily walking over to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe on a renegade nail head and cursed silently. The general sounds of chatter and glasses clinking emanated from downstairs, indicating a bar full of patrons. No doubt Tifa was incredibly busy, and I knew I should've been helping her. As quickly as possible, I showered and dressed, brushing my teeth twice to get the taste of blood off my tongue. It was entirely unsettling that I couldn't recall how exactly I had been injured, but there was a tiny cut on my bottom lip.

Forcing my thoughts away from the mystery, I carefully went downstairs, eager to check on Tifa. The bar was slightly more crowded than usual given that it was still too early for the evening crowd, and Tifa stood behind the counter mixing a row of drinks. The moment I approached her, however, she inhaled in a short gasp and her eyes filled with fright.

"You ok?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"F-Fine," she replied instantly, avoiding my gaze.

One of the long sleeves covering her arms lifted up slightly as she reached for an empty glass, exposing a dark bruise on her wrist. Horrorstruck, I grabbed her arm and pulled the sleeve up past her elbow to reveal a row of thin black lines like fingers wrapped around the soft white of her forearm. Immediately, the previous night's dream and the memory of that voice hit me like a dagger in the stomach, and I released her, stunned.

"Tifa, I...I don't know what happened to me last night," I confessed as my chest tightened.

She pressed her lips together in a frown and shut her eyes.

"Tifa... Did I do this to you?" I could hardly conceal my terror.

After a long sigh, she opened her eyes and turned to me with a wary expression.

"You... don't remember?" she asked carefully, slowly.

"What did I do?" I responded immediately, horrified.

For several moments, her narrowed eyes merely searched mine as though attempting to detect deceit.

"Tell me what happened last night," I asked desperately, lowering my voice considerably.

The noise in the bar was welcome, for once, because I did not want a single person overhearing our conversation. Truthfully, the only thing I remembered was kissing her. Then that hideous desire, that urgency for blood – to satisfy that thing clawing inside me, that voice...

"Cloud," Tifa's sudden voice broke my thoughts apart, "Come here." Her voice was exhausted, aggravated, frightened, a mixture of emotion I never knew possible from her. And that's what scared me most.

She walked around the counter stepping into the kitchen at the back, and I followed without hesitation. Through the empty archway connecting the two rooms, she stood to one side so she could plainly keep her eye on the cash register behind the bar counter. Arms folded across her stomach, eyes gazing out towards the assorted patrons sipping down booze, she did not say anything for a long time. But I patiently waited for her to explain. I needed answers.

"You want to know what happened?" she repeated my words carefully, as though handling an explosive. I nodded and she sighed. "Well," she began softly, "We were in my room and we were getting close... You were kissing me. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, I remember," I said, though the memory of kissing her did not cheer me up.

"Ok, well," she went on with some apprehension, "Then you... you held me down. You wouldn't let go of my wrists. It was like you were someone else... You just wouldn't stop! I had to hurt you to get you off me!"

"Hurt me? Wait, what did I do?" I stressed, eager for explicit details since my memory was failing me.

She looked around for a second to make sure nobody else was watching then pulled the neck of her shirt down to her shoulder, grimacing in the obvious pain the gesture brought. A huge bloody wound was torn in the delicate skin above her collarbone stretching over her shoulder with bits of raw flesh exposed beneath the missing portions of skin. Ripples of dried blood lay under the skin, purple bruising surrounding it.

"Oh..." My lack of words summed up my absolute shock. I didn't remember hurting her and furthermore I couldn't even comprehend how I could have done that to her.

She covered the wound with her shirt again and stared back at me as though expecting an explanation.

"Tifa..." I was suddenly conscious of my jaw hanging open, "Tifa, I'm so sorry. I was not myself. Last night – Tifa, listen to me. I was not myself. I would never hurt you." The words, the excuses, fell from my mouth.

She looked away as tears welled in her eyes.

"Tifa," I repeated her name as though it was the last weapon that could combat the sick voice within me. "Tifa, I would never hurt you willingly. I don't remember doing that to you."

"Then what, Cloud? What am I supposed to believe?" she snapped suddenly, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

Anxiously rubbing the back of my head, I let a few moments pass before I responded. "You need a curing materia. Let me get you a Restore. I'll-I'll call Yuffie, and uh –"

"No," she interrupted nonchalantly, "No, she'll ask questions and I... I'm not ready to answer any. Besides, I don't want to use any materia. It will heal by itself with time."

"I'm so sorry..." An apology would never be enough, though.

"Tell me what's been going on, then. Give me a reason."

"It's just this..." I hesitated, unsure whether or not I should tell her about the dreams and the voice. Surely, she didn't need to worry about anything, but this felt important. And I wanted to maintain my innocence in the matter. "I've been... well, I haven't been myself lately."

"What do you mean?" She eyed me with caution

After a short pause and a deep breath, I started to explain. "I've been having this... dream. A lot. And each time I hear this voice in my head. But it's a voice I don't recognize, yet it seems to know me. In my dream, it barely speaks – only a few words, my name mostly. But each time I hear it, I know its demanding something of me."

"I don't understand... What is the dream about exactly?"

Another pause. Because I wasn't sure how to delicately put it. "It's about... it's about Aerith," I lowered my voice just above a whisper, "It's Aerith, but..."

"But what?"

"I cut her up."

"...What?" Her eyes widened; a hint of disgust was in her tone.

"In the dream, I cut her up. Every time."

"Cloud, stop." She held one hand over her eyes, fingers gently pressing on her eyelids.

"But each time it's like I'm acting in fear of this voice. It needs blood, you see. And there's always so much blood, but that's never enough."

"Cloud, stop!" she yelled suddenly, one arm slicing through the air between us for emphasis. I instantly fell silent. "These... dreams," she continued, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It never seemed important. Besides this was the first time I'd heard the voice outside the dreams."

"Wait... You heard this voice again? While you were awake?" She seemed terrified beyond reason.

"Yes. Last night was the only time, though. Which is why I was trying to explain that I wasn't myself..."

"Cloud..." Her mouth hung open again, shock and horror battling for dominance of the expression on her face. "This voice... Could it be Jenova?"

"What? No way. I'm fine," I insist quickly, though truthfully, the thought had crossed my mind. But it just felt different this time. Much more different than before.

"You need to do something about this," she replied, much more authoritative than before though the fright still lingered in her tone. "You need to do something if that thing still has some sort of power over you. You really frightened me last night... And now you say you hear some phantom voice demanding blood?"

"Well, if you put it that way, of course it sounds bad..."

"It is bad, Cloud!" she hissed, then looked away again before continuing in a much more even tone, "And to think I was really beginning to hope – well, never mind that."

A long tense silence followed, and the noise from the bar sounded much louder than usual.

"What should I do?" I finally spoke. The question was absurdly direct, but if anyone knew how to handle a tough situation, it was Tifa.

"I don't really know..." She shook her head gently. "Maybe ShinRa can undo whatever they did to you..."

"ShinRa?" Anger rushed through my bones at the name. "No. No, to hell with ShinRa. I don't see how they would help!"

"They must be able to do something!"

"No. No way. I'm not asking ShinRa for a damn thing."

"Then, I don't know what you should do, ok? I don't know! But you need help, Cloud. You really do, if that thing is still disrupting your life."

"Tifa... I can handle it. I've handled it in the past..."

"Apparently you can't handle it, Cloud! This is serious!"

"Then what?"

"Then at least go and ask ShinRa to help you! They are the ones who – "

"Forget it. Just forget ShinRa."

She sighed. "Fine. I'm only trying to make a helpful suggestion because whatever took hold of you last night... I don't ever want to see it again..."

"Well, ShinRa is not helpful. Never has been. You know that."

Her warm brown eyes tilted back in a flash of sorrow. "You really don't know what happened last night...do you?"

Before I could respond, Tifa briskly turned and walked back into the bar, silently. Her face was expressionless as she continued mixing drinks. I silently cursed myself and approached her once more, the flash of anger subsiding.

"I'll... try to take care of it, ok?" I told her softly, but she still didn't meet my gaze.

The awkward silence only increased, so I decided to just leave. I had to clear my head, and get some fresh air. With deliberately slow steps, I made my way to the door, but she did no attempt to stop me. I exited unhindered with the strong feeling of guilt surrounding me. There was no choice. I had to do something about this voice before I got worse. There couldn't be a next time. Not when her safety was involved.