Title: One Last Reunion
Fandom: FF7
Rating: PG-13. Will change rating for later chapters.
Warnings: Post AC. AU-ish given my lack of effort in researching the Ultimanias. Angst warning for now.
Characters: Cloud, Vincent. Zack/Cloud implied. More to come.
Summary: One last reunion to right all that had gone wrong. Most FF7 characters appear.
A/N : I'm feeling a little melodramatic tonight.
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v - εуλ 0009, End Summer
Joyful sounds of bubbly laughter and childish giggles echoed throughout the ruined church, but Tifa Lockheart frowned with concern.
Just moments ago, the man who had miraculously woken up in the pool in the middle of the church, was smiling. It wasn't as radiant as, say, Cid's face-splitting grin, or the lopsided kind that spoke of Yuffie's brand of mischief. Rather, it was a small, confident smile he showed to Denzel to reassure the boy that it was safe to touch the glistening water.
And then, the smile was gone. Cloud stood motionless, frozen, as though he'd seen something shocking. The children around him continue to play and chase each other in the water, oblivious to the man who was probably responsible for saving all of them from Geostigma. Tifa followed his gaze, confused, but she didn't notice anything extraordinary besides a couple of children squatting near the wooden entrance doors, and the brilliant morning sunlight that shone through.
Tifa was distracted when a noisy splash of water sent droplets of water sprinkling onto her face. "Sorry!" someone called out. Caught surprised, she too, laughed at the children's antics.
When she looked up, Cloud had already turned his back, his strong arms gently carrying a small, frightened young girl into the water. When the girl realized that it was warm, and it brought soothing relief to her pain, she hopped in eagerly.
"Cloud…?" Tifa asked hesitantly.
He lowered his head then, letting soft blond hair hide the better part of his face from her view. However, Tifa could see a hint of upward curl of petal-pink lips through those long golden spikes. Cloud was smiling again, she sighed in relief.
"I'm not alone anymore…" he murmured softly, though Tifa wasn't sure if he was replying to her. Satisfied that everything was alright, she nodded once in agreement, and turned her attention to the adults who were now trying to climb into the cleansing pool to join the fun.
"… aren't I?" the whisper continued, unnoticed. His smile became a wistful one.
Nobody knew there were tears in his eyes on that day.
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v - εуλ 00010, Spring
"So… Cid said you haven't been back at the Seventh Heaven for a while." A mere statement. The single sentence bore the weight of many, glaring, unspoken accusations and unasked questions.
Cloud sighed, and continued his descent down the steps outside the bar, while hauling several bags and packages over his shoulders. Inside the bar, the night crowd was beginning to become rowdy with the free-flowing alcohol. Sometimes, he could hear Barrett angrily slamming his gun-arm against the table, followed by girly peals laughter and shrieks. A few Corellian curses later, Cloud didn't doubt that Yuffie had won another round of poker. If she hadn't already smuggled out the group's materia stash, she'd already had won enough gils to actually buy a few.
"I've been busy with deliveries," Cloud answered neutrally, without giving any hint of emotion in his voice. He placed his cargo on the gravel path and began loading them onto Fenrir.
Just a stone's throw away, Marlene, Denzel and a few other children from the orphanage were playing firecrackers under the starry nightsky. Nanaki, who was already snoring comfortably against a wall, allowed them to use his flickering flaming tail as a lighter of some sort. Between the drunken shouts in the bar and the endless screaming and giggling on the other side, Cloud thought it was a rather noisy night for one of their not-so-often AVALANCHE get-togethers.
"Not staying for the night? Tifa will be disappointed, you know." Another statement. Cloud clenched his teeth and briefly wondered if the owner of Seventh Heaven had purposely sent this man to persuade him from his journey. He was good at reading people, and he was doing what Cloud was afraid of – by sending the blonde into guilt-trips and hoping he'd crack a little to reveal some secret hidden beneath that mess of spiky chocobo-gold.
Then again, Cloud was pretty good at deflecting such attacks. He'd been doing that since his childhood days in Nibelheim, and he'd certainly gotten better when he signed up as a new recruit in Shinra's boot camp. Unfulfilled promises, and all that.
"Nah… I've got another run tonight. I'll be back by the weekend," came the nonchalant reply, with a subtle tinge of defensiveness. His fingers worked faster to secure some straps over the larger packages on the bike, betraying his calm. He was already dressed in his usual navy blue SOLDIER-type uniform, with shoulder pauldrons, belts, boots and materia-equipped accessories in place. Any passer-by wouldn't deny that Cloud looked set for trip beyond the outskirts of the Midgar Plains.
"Hn, and you're going to miss the Revival Festival." Cloud's breath hitched, and his jaw tightened, annoyed. His inner voice vehemently lashed out at that last statement, because no– he wasn't intentionally skipping the celebrations, and no– he wasn't being that reclusive selfish idiot hiding from everyone, as Yuffie had succinctly put it earlier that evening, and no– he wasn't blaming Tifa for anything nor was he having any so-called lovers' quarrel with her because damn it, he wasn't even her boyfriend, and no– he wasn't angry at himself or acting like an emo-wreck, and no– he just needed to go out tonight, against everyone's wishes and better judgement, to–
One deep breath, he willed himself to stay put on the ground before anything untoward happened. Not in front of the children, anyway.
You have to hand it to him, he's pretty good, Cloud mused inwardly as he glanced warily at the other man. He didn't know if he was trembling slightly from the sudden outburst within him, or because those crimson eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dark, now that they sensed a crack – a way in – through his mental defenses.
Cloud decided to leave the question unanswered. He could probably get away by being cold, unfriendly and unresponsive, unlike the other members of the AVALANCHE gang. He pulled harshly at the last few straps, and did a quick check on the side compartments that held his swords. He was intent on packing everything up as soon as possible and getting himself out of that suffocating situation.
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Vincent Valentine remained standing where he was, leaning against one of the wooden support pillars at the front of Seventh Heaven. His gaze, unwavering and inherently predatory, never left the blonde. One black eyebrow rose as he eyed one of the packages which Cloud had secured last on Fenrir. It was a small bouquet of freshly-plucked yellow and white flowers with leaves still moist from that afternoon's drizzle, carefully wrapped in brown paper.
A change in strategy was needed. He adjusted his cloak to hide the smug grin forming on his face.
Cloud was about to mount his bike when he was startled by Vincent's next question. "I heard that Midgar Blooms are still quite rare, even around here," Vincent said softly while gesturing towards the said bouquet. It was a matter-of-fact statement, since the only places where they flourished were in some gardens which had been destroyed after Meteorfall, and the fabled Sector 5 church ruins. When the pool of healing water formed in there just half a year ago, the flowers disappeared.
Vincent watched as the blonde stood next to Fenrir, his fingers instinctively reaching for the soft yellow and milk-white petals. His face, hardened by anger earlier, gradually softened when he seemed to reminisce past memories.
"That's true. They're not as resilient as other types of flowers, and they don't last as long either," Cloud replied tenderly, caught up in his thoughts.
Ah, Vincent thought. He was catching onto something personal and dear to the blonde. He didn't want to be too intrusive, for fear of drawing him too far from his shell that he'd instantly slink back into his brooding self. Vincent didn't think the group would appreciate having another moody, brooding person onboard other than the existing ex-Turk.
"Perhaps they would, if given the chance to take root and grow," Vincent added cautiously. Cloud looked up then, his brows furrowed, uncertain. "To live, I mean," The raven-haired man continued.
Cloud "hmm"-ed in agreement, and he seemed engrossed with stroking the flower petals, his Mako-blue eyes glowing softly in the dark.
At that point, Vincent decided to prod a little further. Cloud had looked uncomfortable and restless during the day, but Vincent suspected it was more than just the rainclouds and gloomy weather. When Tifa blurted out that everyone at the bar missed him terribly, and that she was glad he would stay over, the blonde abruptly stood, muttering something about an urgent delivery he'd forgotten. When Cloud rushed upstairs to pack his bags and to pick up the so-called delivery packages, Tifa was on the verge of crying, while the rest of the group fell silent and concentrated on the card games they were playing.
"Fuck! You cheated!" Cid's foul-mouthedness never failed to amuse everyone. While some of the children outside winced at the swearing, Marlene and Denzel giggled loudly instead.
"Stuff it, old man! You suck at Cosmo poker AND Wutanese mahjong!" Yuffie's shrill reply was heard, followed by another round of laughter from the rest of the group, including Barrett and Tifa.
That seemed to relax Cloud; for a moment, his shoulder shook from stifling a grin.
"Your customer must be a very dedicated person. You don't often get to see so many Blooms in a single bunch," Vincent said, friendly and without any malice. A harmless, well-intended praise, that was all.
Cloud leaned against Fenrir, gazing upwards and contemplating the view of a cloudless nightsky above. "Yeah… I suppose it's for a special occasion," he replied in a dreamy voice.
Vincent thought he'd pried enough for that night, and would happily wave the blonde godspeed in his journey, but Cloud continued unexpectedly. "You know, Vincent, I'm remembering a bit more of the past with each passing day. They come back to me, while I'm on the road, while I'm asleep, hell, even when I'm in the shower," Cloud glanced at him, while making a sweeping movement with one gloved hand to emphasize his point. He was grinning.
"Good memories, I presume?"
Cloud shrugged, a faint pink flush creeping up his cheeks, and murmured, "Who knows?"
Bashful, aren't we? Vincent thought.
"But there are still many gaps in-between. It's like watching a broken slideshow of the people I've met, of the things I've done, or the places I've been," Cloud said, as he finally mounted his bike. Vincent let him go; he'd probably already learnt a little more than he was entitled to.
Vincent waved goodbye at him. Cloud nodded and pulled his goggles down. "In time, Cloud. I'm sure they'll all come back to you in time," Vincent called out above the roar of Fenrir's engine.
As Cloud sped off southwards, Vincent turned around, feeling accomplished and perhaps a little grateful to have the privilege of sharing some personal thoughts with his friend. He would have to deal with Tifa, and the rest of the waiting group, later.
"Uncle Vincent?" Vincent felt tiny, sharp tugs on both sides of his red cloak. Looking down at the two adorable children, he gave his most assuring smile.
"Did Cloud go away again?" Marlene pouted and held onto his clawed fingers.
"Just for a while. He's gone to meet someone," he replied with a soothing voice.
"Who's that person?" the other child asked curiously.
"I don't know, Denzel. Someone very special, I guess." Vincent gave one last look at the direction where Cloud left, admired the serene nighttime scenery surrounding the Seventh Heaven, and then returned inside with Marlene and Denzel in his arms.
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There was a full moon that night.
The familiar dusty landscape, every rocky outcropping and every barren cliff – they were all painted with shades of pale silver and inky blackness. Cool winds blew from the north, leaving behind eerie whistles echoing in the wasteland valleys below where he was. The ground beneath him was hard and gritty, decorated with dark splotches of shadow that looked suspiciously like dried blood or charred sand.
He could still smell the choking, acrid scent of fresh blood, burnt flesh, melted metal, refined mako and gunpowder smoke. He could still hear the deafening cries of men being slaughtered, and in particular, the bloodcurdling screams and later, the sickening gurgling sound of one man who was shot at point-blank and left to die a painful death; a horrific memory etched so deep inside his mind which he could, and would, never forget.
It was a surreal experience, indeed. Of all the memories he could have remembered, or tried to forget, the last moments for his long-gone friend, and his first true memories as an awakened, fully-conscious person after his escape from Nibelheim, continued to elude him. It was one of those fragments of memories which he desperately wanted back, and he bitterly cursed whatever experiments that were carved into his body and mind that made him lose that one precious moment of his life.
He wanted to see his friend for one last time. A breathing, living, bleeding person, not a ghostly apparition, nor a figure in a photograph. Cloud wondered how his fallen friend looked like when he gasped out his last breath, what were the last words whispered into his ears, how his cool, blood-soaked fingers must have felt when they touched Cloud's one last time, how those blue lips must have felt in that cold, unforgiving rain.
Cloud collapsed heavily onto the ground and leaned his back against the rusty Buster Sword, his legs spread out clumsily over some scattered stalks of Midgar Blooms and broken petals. He was exhausted from the unsettling imagery and obsessive, morbid thoughts that haunted him. Glazed, red-rimmed eyes continue to stare into space, as he poured another glass and threw the empty bottle away to join another two already lying nearby.
Just a couple of feet away, Fenrir remained a loyal, silent companion to his misery.
The winds picked up, sending the flowers drifting further and further away. In his drunken stupor, Cloud managed to snatch back a few stalks and he found himself staring at them, unfocused, and unsteady. He contemplated on whether to throw them into the wind, or crush them in his palm. He wondered how long the flowers will last in this arid land.
Perhaps they would, if given the chance to take root and grow.
Cloud's brows furrowed.
To live.
He took a full minute to weave together a coherent thought. The alcohol was fast working its way into his system, Mako-enhanced or not.
"Well, why not…" he mumbled, his words heavily slurred. Gloved fingers scraped and dug shallow holes in the cracked, dry earth and he clumsily planted the stalks into them. For a while, he chuckled at the silly sight of a few awkward stems and flowers jutting out from the ground in front of him.
Then, at the stroke of midnight, the Kalm Revival Festival fireworks were let off, but Cloud was already beginning to doze away. Heavy-lidded and thoroughly drunk, he could barely make out the colourful flowers patterning the nightsky, and the distant exploding sounds resounding throughout the northeastern plains.
Cloud raised his glass; a toast to the fireworks and to the flowers he'd just planted, and to a poignant memory that would remain with him, forever.
"Happy birthday… Zack."
Nobody knew that Cloud smiled that night – a first contented smile in a long time.
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A/N : The next chapter/sequel is in the works, but only if my muse is fed enough mocha cake with extra nuts and icing. Please feed the muse! XD