I have not played any Final Fantasy game, I have only watched a walkthrough of Crisis Core and then Last Order-thanks to LastOrder1 again for telling me about that! and Advent Children Complete. I don't know how much effect that will have upon my writing this stuff, but I expect I'll make a lot of mistakes in the canon and stuff, though of course this is a very AU story since Zack survives. Just so you are warned. There will be no slash because although I have nothing against it I don't much like reading or writing it, and I may get in Tifa and Aerith at some point but my priorities are Cloud and Zack-and I don't see why they'd have a problem loving each other and everything because they seem a lot like brothers to me and you have to remember they survived hell together. There's a bond in that. That's just what I think. So that's my plan, as far as it goes, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Still Standing

Chapter 1:

Cloud crawled, desperate, dazed, bewildered. He did not have the strength to stand up, even to get to his hands and knees, his body broken, weakened, blasted. He did not understand. All he knew was that the icy rain was falling into his face and he felt sick and cold but alive, and Zack was lying there bleeding in the mud, without moving, and that he, Cloud, had to reach him. And that was why he dragged himself on trembling arms through the mud and pebbles, through the blood. So much blood…sounds of a battle like dreams, or nightmares, in his memory. His own slow awakening to the stench of shattered flesh. And Zack-fallen, cast down-it could not be. He stared down into that friend's face he knew better than his own, and he felt his heart breaking.

"Zack?" he whispered, his voice broken and cracked from horror, from disuse. It was the first word he had spoken in months. His friend, his brother, the only person he had left in the world, lay there bleeding, his body torn so horrendously even Cloud knew that there was no hope of repair. But Zack's eyes were open, glowing with that intense mako blue.

"For the…both of us," he breathed, his breath rattling in his destroyed throat. Cloud shook his head, not understanding.

"Both of us?"

"You're gonna…" Zack's voice faded out; he was too exhausted to speak. His arm lifted, trailing blood and mud, gripping Cloud by the side of the head in a gesture Cloud remembered, dimly, like a dream-some kind of comfort, a wordless fellowship. Now, a promise. Too weak to hold it up, too broken by this pain, Cloud's head dropped onto Zack's battered chest. He felt his shoulders heave in a great sob as Zack's voice breathed out: "Live." His hand slipped away-Cloud raised his head to stare down at his best friend through the blood-matted blond bangs. . "You'll be my...living legacy…" The survivor of the devastation of their lives, of the betrayal of all that they had ever believed in-the result of Zack's greatest sacrifice. Living legacy…And Cloud could not even speak, had no voice to hail Zack's life, Zack's dreams, Zack, his brother. No words.

"My honour, my dreams…" Zack's hand tightened on the hilt of the sword at his side, the muscles in his shoulder clenching. "They're yours now, Cloud." And somehow he lifted the heavy sword and Cloud reached up to take it, instinctively, stunned by grief, clenching his two hands around the long hilt as Zack's hand slipped back and splashed into the mud, spent.

"I am…your living legacy," Cloud whispered. A faint smile curved Zack's lips, and then he closed his eyes.

"No," Cloud murmured. "No no no-" His breath caught and suddenly the anguish seemed to explode inside him, all the pain and fear and the long lonely fight, only for this, this final wrongness, Zack, someone like Zack, who only ever wanted to be a hero, to do the right thing, who had given his life for an undeserving weakling failure like Cloud, Zack who was all he had in the world, Zack who meant more to him than anything, whom he emulated and admired and loved like a brother, who had given up so much for him-Zack who never wanted to die, just to be happy, to live and smile and laugh, and be with Aerith, and be free-Cloud tilted his head back and he heard his wild, animal scream echo beyond the sky, in furious, hopeless defiance of this ultimate wrongness and pain. Because Zack should never have had to die. Zack, of all people.

…

Sunlight gleamed through the sky washed clean of rain. Zack lay motionless, his face, though bloodstained and torn, strangely peaceful below Cloud, who now stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily on the sword, slipping in the clinging mud and almost falling. His sight was blurred with tears and sickness, and he barely knew where or even who he was. He only knew that Zack had told him to keep going, and so he would, no matter what.

"I won't forget," he whispered, his voice ravaged by pain and the long vague months of poison. He forced himself to turn away from Zack's motionless, broken body beneath him, then paused. "Goodnight, Zack," he said quietly, hoarsely, and he began to walk, more to stagger, through the mud in the direction of the rising sun.

The light beat down, brighter than it should have been. He wondered why every one of his senses seemed so enhanced, so sharp-he thought that he could hear the dust settle after every tread of his boots, see each individual ray of light glinting softly, striping the world around him like a dream. Unused to such an intensity of perception he felt a wave of dizziness rush over him and almost fell, clutching the sword, his one lifeline in the world. He hung over it, hanging onto the hilt, taking several deep breaths, his dripping, spiky blond hair flopping into his face.

"Zack," he whispered. "Zack…I'm so sorry…"

He barely understood why he should be sorry. His memory was, unlike his senses, slippery and unclear. Thinking back he remembered faint flashes-a dark-haired man in a white coat, sneering through a pain of green-tinted glass. Pain, so intense he wondered how it had not torn him apart, blinding and deadening and all-obliterating. Someone's voice speaking to him, telling him it would be all right, that they would make it through…he thought it was Zack. Movement, the smell of sweat and rain, a strong arm supporting him as he swayed and stumbled, unable to open his eyes, barely to keep on his feet.

Why? What happened to us? How did we get here?

He remembered a blade of agony driven straight through his body, the taste of blood filling his mouth, an anger and a strength such as he had never known. Lost in the memory his eyes narrowed, he heard himself speak through the pain, felt the agony withdrawn, a tall man with long white hair and wide, shocked eyes falling-Sephiroth-

Cloud's eyes snapped open. He had fallen to his knees beside the sword. His hands were shaking violently-he stared at them as if he had never seen them before. His breath came faster, in ragged panting gasps as he began to hyperventilate, as the memories flooded back. Sephiroth stabbing him, then himself somehow killing Sephiroth, then collapsing down on the stairs beside Zack…his hands fisted in the dust, he did not notice that his nails dug so deeply into his palms that thin rivulets of blood ran down his skin and pooled weakly on the ground. Months-years-of torture, blurring together. Lying bound to a table while someone jabbed at his helpless body with needles and knives, the face from his memory peering down at him with a sadistic scientific interest. Zack hugging him somewhere in a dark room while he trembled and convulsed uncontrollably.

No-the mako-Hojo-no, that's not true, it can't be true-it's just a nightmare…all a nightmare…

"You're my living legacy…you're gonna live…"

I have to keep going. I have to make it for Zack…

He reached out, gripped the sword hilt tightly once more and hauled himself to his feet, narrowing his eyes and fixing his sights on the horizon. There was only one way forward. Zack had done more than save his life, over and over again-Zack had been his life. Being there for him throughout their shared torture at the hands of Hojo, literally dragging and carrying him for so many long months just to keep him alive, to get him out of the hell of their past…and then dying to protect him. Dying! Cloud's hands tightened on the sword.

He could not fail. Whatever happened, he could not allow Zack's sacrifice, his last unbelievable, immense sacrifice, to be in vain.

…

Zack liked it where he was lying. He was warm and comfortable, and there was light all around him, and freedom. And he knew that not so far behind him was cold and pain and uncertainty, and everything he wanted to leave behind.

It was just that something kept nagging him, like something he had forgotten before leaving on a long journey-when you knew there was something important you'd left behind but couldn't quite work out what it was…a voice, a face. A girl with wide, serious eyes set in a pale, lovely face, cascading chestnut hair falling about her slender shoulders, arms bedecked with flowers. Aerith. And something else…all mixed in and confused with the pain and the fear and the heartache, something vital.

"I'm a country boy too…Nibelheim…I wish I was a SOLDIER… …I'm Cloud…" Cloud-

Cloud. His brother. The person with whom he had shared four long years of torment and terror in Hojo's lab. The person who he had carried on and on through the wilds towards Midgar, the destination that just never became any nearer, that they never stopped believing in…his little brother, or as good as. The person he had died for, or so he had thought. His best friend.

Cloud-and Aerith-something worth it-

His eyes slowly opened. He was lying on his back, staring up at a clear blue sky and a cold breeze ruffled his dark hair across his face. He raised his hands towards his face, marvelling at the bloodstains patterning them like snail tracks when he felt so…fine. A low groan escaped him as he remembered…

The Turks flowed away before him like an impassable sea, far too many to fight, and he felt a strange resignation settle on his heart as he drew his sword. "The price of freedom is high," he heard himself saying softly. If he did this now, the odds remained that he would die, despite his mako-enhanced strength and reflexes. But Cloud, his brother in all but blood, still had a chance. Just a ghost of a chance, to be sure, but a chance all the same. "Defend your dreams," he whispered, an echo of words spoken long ago. "And your honour-as SOLDIER. Come and get it!" And he charged as they did, swinging the sword around his head and lunging deep into their ranks-

And yet here he was. He remembered injuries, so severe he had always known there was no hope for him. He remembered giving Cloud, miraculously awake and amazingly alive, his sword, and drifting away. He remembered thinking that he had seen Angeal…falling, flying away into the light…surely he had died.

But now here he was, alive.

He sat up gingerly, still unable to fully believe that those phantom wounds could just be healed. There was no pain, only the very faintest of discomforts. He glanced down at himself and parted the torn, bloodstained fabric of his jacket and shirt, and his eyes widened in amazement. Thin red scars, as if of injuries many weeks healed, and shimmering ever so faintly at the edges the green glow of mako.

How was it possible? There could not be much mako in his system now. To be sure, during his training for SOLDIER he had been given enough of it to permanently enhance his fighting ability, but to heal someone it had to be fresh and pure. Not over a year old. And he had never even been given as much of it in the lab as Cloud had. Hojo had realised early on that something in Cloud's DNA, or blood, or whatever-Zack wasn't about to dwell on that kind of jargon in any situation-made him far more receptive to the mako treatments than Zack, and it had had some pretty bizarre effects as well, at times. Zack had spent the past few months almost in storage, in case a lesser test subject might be required, while Hojo concentrated on torturing Cloud before his very eyes. Little wonder that the kid had spent a year almost comatose after that.

But the fact remained that the mako in Zack's own system could quite simply not have healed him like this. Which left only one alternative-Cloud. The insanity of the idea made Zack instinctively shake it off-but then he forced himself to go back and take another look. What other explanation could there be? And he had seen enough crazy things happen to the kid under the mako before. Was it really so impossible?

Well, the first step was obvious. He was going to have to find Cloud…not that it looked set up to be too difficult. Clearly still too weak and sick to think about such matters, his friend had not bothered to conceal his trail, and Zack could easily see the tracks in the mud made by someone fairly small walking slowly and apparently with difficulty, dragging something heavy, something like a sword. Excellent, he thought in satisfaction. Thank you, Spiky.

Determinedly he did not allow himself to dwell on the past or the far future. He had a feeling that going there could seriously damage him right now-the horror behind and the uncertainty and angst ahead would only distract him from the currently vital business of staying alive. For now he had to find Cloud, and when he had done that they could move from there.

He just got up as if it had never been easier, as if even lifting his hand had never been such agony, stretched and did his best to straighten his tattered clothing, and set out following Cloud's shaky trail through the mud. It seemed unreal, bizarre, to be so calmly and normally starting a walk, with no further ado, but it was really what he was doing, and it was really him who was doing it. The realisation was dizzying. He was alive.

He smiled.

Well there it is, hope you like it so far! I'm not sure when I'll be able to post again since I'm writing other stories for other fandoms too, but I'll try to make it fairly soon. Also you may think both of them are a bit too angsty, not really that military or anything, but I really think this is how they would be feeling in their situations, they're not just soldiers, they're very complex, very damaged and very human people first of all. Had to just explain that…

Anyway, I'd really like it if you'd leave me a review and let me know what you think-I really appreciate constructive criticism, I'm not just saying that!