Chapter Text
Heroes Don't Cry
"Once upon a time, there was a mighty hero."
"What kind of hero?" A young boy blinked up at his mother, blue eyes far too big on his fair face. They gleamed with the mountain of hopes and dreams contained within his tiny body.
"If you keep interrupting, you'll never know," the boy's mother sighed.
With a pout, the boy grumbled an apology and dutifully fell silent.
The mother cleared her throat, poising a finger against her plump lips as she tried to remember what she was saying. "This hero was not exceptionally big nor cunning. But rather, his strength existed in the greatness of his heart, which always yearned to give to those around him."
The young boy's brows pressed together. It was difficult for him to understand how a hero could be mighty if he was not strong. Sephiroth was strong, and that's why people considered him a hero.
Seeing her son's question on his face, the mother laughed. "Cloud," the boy's name was like a chastising song on her lips. "It is not the size of the deeds, but rather, the intentions behind them. This hero is so wonderful because he helps people simply because it is the right thing to do."
Cloud hummed, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Like when I took that basket of fruit to Mrs. Brighton's house when she was sick?"
"Exactly," his mother nodded with a bright smile. "And the hero of this tale did much the same. He carried fruits and medicine to the ill, saved children from drowning in the Nibel river, and even managed to ward off a ghastly beast from our lands. He did these things for his people and, most of all, for his family."
Cloud's mouth was open with wonder. Little hands dipped into a bowl of water before grabbing a ball of dough handed to him by his mother. They were hard at work making apple pies before the season was over, and the fruit fell to rot at the base of the trees.
"He came from Nibelheim too?" Cloud patted the dough into the pie tin, covering every inch of metal. Once he was finished, he'd get to watch his mother crimp the edges; that was his favorite part. "Did I ever meet him?"
Something in Claudia's smile turned bitter, and the shadows under her eyes grew that much darker. Cloud had seen that face before: it was that of grief.
"Yes and no," his mother spoke solemnly. "You two were very close when you were younger, and sometimes I see him in your eyes. But you would not remember him. You see, Cloud, sometimes people change, and their intentions change with them."
"Why?" Cloud's asked.
"Well--" Claudia trailed. "Sometimes people forget where they came from and who they used to be. Money and power have the ability to twist the hearts of even the kindest men with greed. Such was the case with our beloved hero."
"Is he still alive?" Cloud wasn't sure if he wanted to know the truth. Something inside warned him that there were secrets in this world better left alone.
Chubby fingers pushed the dough-covered pie tin to the side to join the others. After Cloud's mother pleated them, they would need to be baked alone for a time before the filling could be added. Already, the spiced scent of cinnamon was strong in the air as Claudia mixed the contents of her favorite baking bowl.
It took a long moment before Claudia cleared her throat to respond. "He is."
This was the only answer Cloud would receive, and he felt that was for the better.
What use could anyone have for a fallen hero anyways?
~*~
Cloud Strife rested on his back in the heated, dry dirt of the desert plains on the outskirts of what used to be Midgar. The sun heated his skin, causing tiny beads of sweat to trickle off his toned form. His lashes were fanned across his cheeks, closed lids protecting his enhanced vision from the brilliant glow of the sun.
As he shifted, Cloud could feel the cold metal of Tsurugi brush against his fingertips. It rested next to him like a lifetime friend, loyal to the end. The constant mental pressure of knowing all the enemies he had procured over the years ensured he always kept the sword well within reach.
On the outside, Cloud appeared to be a calm and composed young man seeking relief after a long day. But, even when he wasn't at rest, people often saw him as a level-headed and valiant individual. In fact, he could be the poster child for all Avalanche had stood for before the organization disbanded after the fall of Midgar.
In the eyes of the public, Mundane feelings of fear and sadness were beneath a great "hero" like Cloud Strife.
Cloud Strife was not a vain man by any means. Quite the contrary, he often saw himself as a failure in everything he had tried to do. What the people saw as victories were nothing but a long list of "almosts" for the blonde. He may have stopped Sephiroth, but many had died in the process. He may have finally taken down Shinra, but he'd lost so much in the process.
Almost, almost, almost.
In the end, Cloud had learned a couple of hard truths: there could not be a war without loss, and a story of victory for one was a story of defeat for another. Unfortunately, these were the sort of realities the public would never understand.
"Cloud strife: a man who fights for the weak and acts as a voice for those without one!" The headlines were glorious... They painted a patriotic picture of him that was borderline propaganda. But, what the public would never see was a man who had never gotten the chance to realize his own dreams.
For most of his life, Cloud had deprived himself of his own wants and desires to fulfill those of another. He was a man who had lost his home, his mother, his best friend, and even some of his most cherished memories. He was a man who had looked Death in the face more times than he was comfortable with. So many times, in fact, that he secretly wondered what Death's cold blade would feel like, sinking into the flesh of his chest.
Cloud was a man that had fought for so long that he was no longer entirely sure of what he was fighting for. But heroes don't cry, right?
Heroes don't leave behind the people who need them, even if it costs them their sanity -- their humanity. They don't feel afraid because they are the ones that the nightmares should fear. They can't feel cold because they are the beings that warm the wounded hearts of those around them. And they can't feel regret because the life of a hero is one of honor and respect; what more could they ever want?
Every child dreamed of being a hero at some point. They wanted the glory, the adoration, and the power. What they didn't comprehend was the universe's demand for balance. With every positive comes a negative of equal or greater capacity.
When one achieves glory, one must learn to live with the constant demands for more, more, more. A hero's life is not their own; they are a tool of the people, who would ask for the very skin off their back to stave off a cold wind.
When one receives adoration, one must learn to live with the loneliness that follows. A hero is placed on a pedestal for all to see and admire. The people who adore their heroes will never feel they have the right to approach someone so far from the ground. They can only feel close to another person when facing off on a battlefield of blood and bone. Each echo of metal clashing is like a hug that provides the slightest relief. Unfortunately, this feeling of closeness is fleeting and more addictive than any drug in creation.
Power is by far the worst of the three. When one receives the power to take, one must suffer the consequences -- the demand for something in return. The screams of his victims echoed in Cloud's ears at night, and the Mako in his veins burned hotter than fire on some days. A hero cannot simply receive the power to knock down their enemies and not feel the guilt-ridden ache of their own animosity.
Over time, a hero even loses their ability to see colors as they once did, as if a film has been cast upon their world. Instead, reality becomes a dark place of diluted hues, save for a single shade that would never lose its vibrancy: red.
Cloud's eyes fluttered as a shadow blocked the sun, sending a chill down his spine. Overhead, a helicopter whirred, letting him know his short-lived peace was now over.
The aged metal of the aircraft glinted as it moved further away. The faded Shinra logo on the side informed Cloud that it was likely carrying a few troublesome guests.
As he stood, a deep sigh fell past Cloud's dry lips. Then, with tremendous internal struggle, he lifted Tsurugi off the ground and clipped in place against his spine. He stretched his hands over his head until his bones popped, then shook out his stiff limbs.
A helicopter donning the Shinra crest could only mean one thing. After the fall of Midgar, the power company lost all credibility with the world. Its staff vacated quickly to avoid getting wrapped up in the numerous scandals. However, one branch of the company's military remained loyal to Rufus: The Turks.
Although Cloud was on much better terms with Reno and Rude than he had been in the past, he still held hatred for the man they served. Additionally, it was no surprise that Reno still liked to push Cloud's buttons, and even Rude could be annoying in the wrong circumstances. Ultimately, it was better for everyone that they keep their visits brief and minimal.
Thankfully, Tseng tended to keep his distance from Edge, as did Rufus. Although the corporate heir desired to atone for Shinra's sins, he still preferred to keep off the field. On the other hand, Tseng simply didn't care much for Cloud, often referring to him as "unrefined."
Personally, Cloud couldn't care less if those two paid him a visit: the fewer people, the better.
Cloud began the long trek back home. Each step he took kicked up plumes of dust, which tickled his nose and filled his lungs. Edge was soon in view. Its rapidly built buildings looked rather unstable, especially compared to the sturdy structures the topsiders of Midgar used to inhabit. Nonetheless, Edge was a beacon of civilization: an oasis in the vast desert that surrounded on all sides. The next town over was several weeks away by foot and days by vehicle, a reminder of how wholly isolated they were from the rest of the world. It didn't help that, because of the ruckus caused by Shinra, most labeled their refugee town as a den of sinners. They occasionally played host to a traveler passing through or ex-SOLDIERs looking for a place to rest their head between gigs. Other than that, however, the people of Gaia wanted nothing to do with them.
Cloud came to a stop in front of the security fence outside Edge. The men and women on watch waved to him with bright smiles, swiftly unlocking the gates so he could enter. Cloud returned their polite gestures with a curt nod of his own but otherwise ignored them.
The helicopter that had flown overhead not too long ago rested just outside the city's perimeters. Cloud didn't bother asking the men on Watch which direction the two Turks had headed, already knowing where he'd find them.
Cloud took his time walking through the streets. Even though he was no stranger to his past failures, he did feel a sense of pride looking upon the town he'd helped build. The diligence of humanity could not be overlooked: from a destroyed city of dust and rubble, they'd forged an entire civilization in under a year.
As Cloud passed through the heart of Edge, he offered short waves to excited children and merry adults who thought far too highly of him. The attention was something he'd never get used to.
An hour or two after beginning his walk home, Cloud finally approached the front door of the newly-built Seventh Heaven. The bar served as many things for him and his remaining teammates: it was a home to come back to, a safe haven for those who needed it, and the one place Cloud felt he didn't have to don a mask.
As Cloud pushed his way through the sturdy oaken door, the mixed scents of spices, alcohol, and wood tickled his nose. Instantly, his shoulders relaxed, and a soft sigh escaped him. This sense of serenity was short-lived, however, when a chipper voice sliced through the calm.
"Yo! Cloud, how've you been?" Reno hooked a heavy arm around the blonde's shoulders. "It's been a minute; good to see yer not dead."
Cloud stiffened in the redhead's hold, grunting a bit at the over-familiar greeting he'd never get used to. Even if he and Reno had known each other for a while and were no longer enemies, Cloud still wasn't too keen on the physical displays of affection.
"You need something," Cloud stated the obvious, no question to be found in his voice. Old habits died hard, and he knew the only time the Turks reached out to him was if they required his help.
Reno finally stepped back, to Cloud's relief, arching a well-groomed brow in his direction. "Oh, I've been good too, thanks for askin,'" Reno said. "Always straight to the point with you SOLDIER boys."
"Just tell me what Rufus wants, Reno." Cloud dodged another advancement from the Turk, looping around the bar counter to make himself a drink. The action of pouring the alcohol was familiar and grounding, helping him to steady his thoughts from an ocean of chaos into a more straightforward stream. "I don't feel like playing your games today."
"Always assuming the worst of people," Reno mumbled with a shake of his head.
Cloud gave Reno a sharp look as he poured the contents of his mixer into a whiskey glass. The amber fluid inside sloshed along the edges, the smell burning the nostrils of anyone within five feet.
SOLDIER thirds, and even seconds, could generally get drunk with the right amount of alcohol. With the ridiculous levels of Mako in his veins, though, Cloud was lucky to get a simple buzz from an entire bottle of hard liquor. Almost as soon as it hit his stomach, the Mako ate away at every trace of alcohol.
Poison destroying poison, Cloud thought to himself.
Even if he couldn't feel much, Cloud still enjoyed the burn of a good drink slipping down his throat like liquid heat. It was a small comfort that helped him relax when he felt on edge.
Watching Cloud silently tip back glass after glass of alcohol, Reno looked ready to throw one of his temper tantrums. It would start out with the redhead calling attention to all of Cloud's "problems," and end in an argument or with Cloud walking away entirely.
Before his partner could do more damage than good, Rude finally spoke up. "The population of monsters and rogue Shinra tech is growing in the ruins of Midgar." The posh man pushed his sunglasses further up his nose, a nervous tic Cloud recognized well.
"Those things have always crawled around Midgar, even before it became a wasteland. Your so-called 'President' just didn't care enough to help the 'sewer rats' who suffered from the results of his company's illegal experimentation." Cloud grimaced a little when he swallowed a particularly large mouthful of his beverage. "Why is it such a problem now when no one even lives there anymore?"
"Rufus is making strides to atone for his and his father's sins, Cloud," Rude defended sharply. "After the fall of Midgar, the monsters that prowled the slums weren't a problem. However, some patrol units have noticed that their increased numbers have caused them to stray outside the wreckage. Given time, it is entirely possible they could find their way to Edge--"
"So it's best to be rid of them before they find their way to Edge and cause a bigger problem for you guys, ya know?" Reno cut Rude off, much to the man's apparent chagrin.
Cloud opened his mouth to reply with something along the lines of "fuck you," but quickly closed it with a click of his teeth. He glanced down at the near-empty glass in his hands, tilting it so a sheen of gold coated the edges. He felt conflicted.
On the one hand, Cloud understood what Rude and Reno were trying to say. If the monster population had grown as much as they claimed, overcrowding and lack of prey could prompt the beasts to grow bolder and look elsewhere. If that happened, it wouldn't bode well for the citizens of Edge. They had already lost too many good fighters and would have difficulty defending themselves against a large-scale attack.
On the other hand, Shinra had never raised a hand to help them before. So why should Cloud go out of his way to fix their mistakes when aid had not been offered until now?
With a frustrated sigh, Cloud slammed his glass on the counter and ran a hand down his face. He glanced at an old wall clock off to the side, noticing how the ticking chimed with the rhythm of his steady heart. Memories of Zack's smiling face filled his mind.
"Time is precious to a SOLDIER, Cloud."
Cloud blinked up at his best friend, who sat calmly at his side. The man's smiles were always blinding, and he somehow managed to maintain them even in the darkest situations. In many ways, the blonde was envious of Zack.
The two were quite the opposite in most things. Where Zack was all smiles and kind gestures, Cloud was filled with scowls and pessimism. In fact, Cloud was sure that if Zack hadn't been the one to initiate their friendship, they would've never exchanged words outside of work.
"We never know if we'll wake up one day, unaware of it being our last," Zack continued, passing their rapidly-emptying water canteen to Cloud. While the blonde took small sips, Zack diligently polished the blade of his sword. "Each second our hearts continue to beat is another second we get to do some real good in this world."
"I don't think anything out there could shut you up." Cloud joked. He was unwilling to believe Zack could one day run out of the time he cherished. It was impossible to imagine a world without him.
Zack tilted his head back in an exaggerated bout of laughter, playfully shoving Cloud. "You're probably right, but still--" he trailed off, and his smile became strained. "I don't fear death; it's a part of living, after all. I fear dying without making a difference." The raven gave him a sideways grin, pausing in his polishing to ruffle unruly tufts of blonde hair. "A friend once told me, 'if you want to be the good you wish to see in the world -- to be a hero -- you have to have dreams and honor."
Cloud hummed softly in acknowledgment. He recapped their canteen and looked up at the sky where the silhouette of a bird circled. It looked so free and unbothered, and Cloud couldn't help pondering what that must feel like. Life seemed to be a never-ending competition -- a fight to be number one. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to let go and leave all of this behind.
With a shake of his head, Cloud cast that thought aside. There was no other life for him; he was meant to be a SOLDIER, and he could never bring himself to leave Zack's side... Even if being around the man he secretly yearned for hurt as much as it warmed him.
The memory faded as the clock on the wall chimed, signifying the start of a new hour. A puff of gentle, humorless laughter escaped Cloud's lips. He had never really had dreams or honor that belonged solely to himself. That piece inside him that longed to do good for the people around him was undoubtedly the remnants he still held of his deceased friend.
I'm too selfish to be even half the person Zack was, Cloud thought. As far as he was concerned, he was just a piss-poor replacement for the real thing.
Before the Turks could start berating him on the "importance" of the job they wanted to be done, Cloud turned his gaze to the two men.
"Is your team not capable of taking out a few low-level monsters? Why is this something you need me to do?" Cloud asked. "Hell, even a few of the guys on the Watch are capable enough to hold their own in a fight."
"Be reasonable, Cloudy!" Reno groaned, leaning forward on the counter so that he and Cloud were facing one another. "You've taken worse gigs in the past."
Cloud's lips twitched in a barely-there snarl; he despised hearing Zack's nickname for him come from the redhead's mouth. "I'm not a pawn at Rufus's beck and call, and I'm certainly not yours." The warning was clear in Cloud's voice. He dared them to try using him for the work they were too lazy to accomplish on their own.
Reno's eyes flashed with a childish glimmer of anger as he rared up to lecture the blonde. He was once again stopped by Rude, who placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder.
"Rufus may have sent us here, but we ask this of you personally." Rude looked away from a fuming Reno to regard Cloud. "Reno and I will, of course, be assisting in this matter. However, it would get done significantly faster -- not to mention safer -- if the three of us split the workload. While I have no doubt the men you've trained in the Watch could do well enough, I'd rather not leave such a sensitive task in their... less-experienced hands."
Cloud looked down at his clasped hands on the bar counter, suppressing the agitated groan that threatened to spill from him. He adjusted the chest strap that secured his shoulder guard, subtly pulling on the leather. The garment felt too suffocating as he wavered under the intense scrutiny of the Turks.
What Rude had said made sense; the job would undoubtedly get done faster with his help. Not to mention eliminating the problem quickly would help secure the safety of Edge and, by extension, his built family. Though he hadn't mentioned it to anyone -- for fear of inducing a panic -- Cloud had already stopped a few rampaging Wrath Hounds and Wererats from slipping out of the ruins. At the time, he'd just hoped these were isolated events and not signs of a more significant issue.
"5,000 Gil." Cloud surrendered, naming his price if the two men wanted his help.
"Done," Rude replied without a second thought. Their handshake was perhaps a bit more crushing than it should have been as they agreed to the terms of their arrangement.
Before leaving, Cloud jotted down a quick note for Tifa. The last time he went on a mission without saying anything, Denzel had insisted they wait up for him. The following day, he'd returned to find the two curled on the couch sleeping, tear tracks upon Denzel's flush cheeks.
Denzel had grown quite fond of Cloud over the brief time they'd known one another. The kid always begged Cloud to take him on missions, but the blonde couldn't, in good conscience, allow Denzel to travel with him without proper combat training. Though Denzel had asked, time and time again, if Cloud would teach him some stuff, the ex-SOLDIER had always been hesitant.
Kids should be allowed the chance to be kids, even for a short while. Now that Geostigma was no longer a constant weight on their minds, Denzel finally had that opportunity, and Cloud refused to be the one to take it away. He knew all too well that once the battles started, they'd never end. Not to mention, Cloud wasn't exactly known for his patience with children, if his awkward interactions with Denzel and Marlene were any indication.
Cloud mounted Fenrir as Reno and Rude returned to their chopper. Typically, he would have demanded more time to prepare, but the blonde always ensured his bike was well-equipped with gear for emergencies. Even so, that didn't mean he wouldn't be a bit bitter.
Fenrir's engine roared to life, and Cloud relished in the soft vibrations and gentle purring of one of the few things he still valued. The bike was in peak condition and ready to handle any predicament he might find himself in. He kicked the stand up and was probably a little flashier than he had to be as he revved the engine and released the clutch. His heart hammered in his chest when he shot forward, adrenaline and pure contentment pumping through his veins.
The desert that surrounded Edge may be devoid of human life, but it was not completely barren. Cacti, skittering creatures, and rock formations made for a complex and fun ride. Cloud dodged each obstacle in his path with an expert's grace. Each aggressive swing of his bike helped to satiate his troubled mind.
This was the closest Cloud ever got to true freedom, and he relished it.
The ride to the Midgar ruins was relatively uneventful. Try as he might to stay distracted by the rugged terrain, Cloud found his mind wandering. The voices came as consciousness faded and ominous memories took over.
Sephiroth stood a few yards away from a wounded Cloud, who strained to hide the way his body convulsed with pain. The blonde's eyes squinted tightly shut as a sharp jolt went through his abdomen. Like an erupting volcano, streams of red trailed down his chin and speckled the ground beneath him.
Red
Red
Red
Why was everything permanently stained by the same, sickening shade of crimson? It was there when Cloud closed his eyes and when he stared at the setting sun. And, without fail, it was always there when he looked down at his own two hands.
"Does it hurt, Cloud?" Sephiroth's voice was melodic and cruel as he pressed the sharpened tip of his sword against Cloud's neck. "Is it unbearable?" Green, demonic eyes gleamed dangerously at the point where Cloud's pulse pounded under his skin.
The blonde suppressed a shiver as the cold sting of the metal traced up the length of his jugular. His gaze was forced up when the bite of the pointed edge pressed under his chin.
"I could make the pain go away." Sephiroth tilted his head, an unreadable expression on his face. "Is that what you want?"
Yes, Cloud's mind supplied.
"Go to hell, Sephiroth," Cloud bit out between grinding teeth. Blood spewed forth from his lips when he spat the demon's name.
The silver-haired general smirked wickedly, flashing short but impossibly sharp canines. "I could end it quickly: no more pain, no more suffering. Just one swipe of my blade and you may finally rest," he purred. "Surely you must understand by now that these fights are vain; you are only prolonging what is unavoidable. Are you sure you can keep going while bearing the weight of the knowledge I am undying?"
Please do it Cloud internally begged. Please kill me.
"I will keep this world safe from you even if I have to kill you a hundred times." Cloud mustered all of the strength he had left in his exhausted body to swing his sword and knock Sephiroth's away.
The ring of metal on metal sang in Cloud's ears. His vision skewed and swayed as he pulled himself back to his feet. Once he was sure he wouldn't fall to the ground again, he shifted into a battle-ready stance.
Sephiroth clicked his tongue in agitation, his features remaining as condescending as ever as he regarded Cloud. He began walking in slow circles around the blonde's slighter form, making no moves to attack but ensuring the threat was there. "Your problem, Cloud Strife," he began, "is that you don't know when to quit. For whom do you fight? I can tell from one look at you that it surely isn't for yourself." Suddenly, the deep voice was a cruel whisper in his ear. "A true SOLDIER knows when to quit. So tell me, 'ex-SOLDIER Cloud Strife,' when will you give in?"
I don't know.
"When you're dead!"
Sparks flew as metal clashed in a hopeless battle with no true end.
Cloud's vision cleared and focussed on the ruins of Midgar in the distance. It painted a tragic picture that warned of what came from the sin of greed. All the lives lost there seemed to haunt the ruins, charging the air with malice and making it feel thick and heavy in the lungs.
Reno and Rude had landed on the cracked main road that led to the city center's remnants. Reno leaned lazily against the chopper's side while his stoic partner stood stiffly with his arms crossed.
Cloud noticed that he was still driving at full speed, despite how rapidly he was nearing the two men. With a grunt of strain, he slammed the brakes on Fenrir, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten reflexively to keep him from flipping over the handlebars. A plume of dust rose up from the wheels as he jerked the bike sideways and came to a quick stop.
Reno's hands shot up to cover his face as the rubble and sand flew up and coated him in a thin layer of dirt. His cursing was the only thing Cloud could hear when he cut the bike's engine.
"If that little bit of dirt is a problem, then it's no wonder you need my help today, Reno." Cloud ran a hand through his wind-whipped hair as he approached the two men. "Are you sure you aren't out of practice?"
The redhead growled at the ex-SOLDIER, but whatever comeback he may have prepared was quickly forgotten when a shrill screech rose up from the ruins. The damaged buildings shook, and some more unstable ones crumpled further.
"We've got a job we came here to do," Rude berated. "You two can go at each other's throats for as long as you'd like after we've completed our objective."
"Tell that to blondie." Reno shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his head in Cloud's direction. "He's always the one startin' shit."
Cloud, completely ignoring the two men, had already begun walking into what remained of a once grand city. Grand, as in it genuinely was a marvel of architecture and sheer size, but not great. Great referred to something good, and even now, Cloud could still feel the whispers of corruption that ran through the vein-like streets. It was the kind of wound that couldn't be healed. It festered until the dead flesh was cut away -- until the city was wiped entirely from view and memory. In the end, Gaia would take back what was stolen from her, and naught but a scar would remain.
Cloud released a sigh as the first wave of ghastly creatures charged forth from a pile of rubble. One at a time, he knocked down multiple rogue machines and monsters. But, unfortunately, none of them got his blood pumping in the way he craved; just hoards of one-hit kills, hardly even worth his time. He wished for just one monster to put up a real fight -- to allow him to forget and satiate the unbearable hunger inside that never, ever went away.
His muscles burned as he pushed himself harder and harder, cutting down his enemies: twenty down, thirty down, fifty, eighty, ninety. Before too long, Cloud's body count was soaring in the mid-hundreds, and he had reached the source of infection. It was the very center of the wound, where the flesh-eating poison had first been introduced.
The center of Midgar held the old, weathered tower of what used to be the Shinra Electric Power Company. Looking up at it left a bitter feeling in Cloud's chest, for it was where he made bonds that would be broken by death. It was where his dreams died like flames doused by water and where his suffering began. Where those ambitions and people he loved once existed, only aching holes that couldn't be filled remained.
If Cloud was even fractionally as capable of destruction as Sephiroth, he would gladly summon another meteor to finish the job and completely flatten the Shinra remnants into dust.
Just as Cloud was about to turn his back on the building, the air shifted, and unnatural movements amongst the debris told him to dodge. He landed perfectly on his feet and out of harm's reach just as a decisive blow fractured the ground where he'd been standing. He hardly flinched as rubble was kicked up through the air.
The shroud of rotten-smelling dust obscuring Cloud's vision was tinged a sickly green with the residual Mako. It took several seconds of blinking through the irritation in his eyes before he could make out a shadow like a mountain rising through the smog.
This was precisely the type of challenge Cloud had been hoping for all day.
The Zolom was tall, its serpent-like head rising at least twenty feet off the ground. Large fangs dripped with saliva and venom as its cold eyes regarded Cloud maliciously.
Cloud grimaced when he caught sight of a forked tongue twisted out of the beast's mouth like a wriggling, pink worm.
Even as a mighty hiss made the ground vibrate, Cloud felt no fear. Instead, he could only discern the rush of excitement that shook him to his core. His mouth upturned at the corners as he took up his blades from their holster and connected them one at a time. When the sword was whole, he gripped it tightly before his body, enjoying how the battle-worn handle bit into his calloused hands.
"Let's go," Cloud challenged before taking off toward the only clear path he had available: the front door of the Shinra building.
The Zolom lunged, crying out in fury when it missed Cloud. Its head slammed right into the metal wall of the structure's entrance with a crack.
Cloud bounded across the polished marble of Shinra's main floor. The speed at which he moved nearly made him overshoot the doorway to the stairs. His hand clasped the frame just in time for him to swing his way up the rickety stairs.
Each floor Cloud passed through was either crowded with abandoned equipment or crumbling apart. His breath came out in short pants as he searched for an area that was steady and large enough to get the battle going.
A shout of surprise escaped Cloud's lips when a step collapsed under his weight. A scale-clad body slithered just below his dangling form. Cloud grunted in pain as the weight of his body pulled sharply on his shoulders. He ground his teeth together and hoisted his body up, barely missing the jaws of the Zolom when it struck.
The walls shook with the force of their skirmish, rocks and old paint falling like black, heavy rain muddying Cloud's vision.
"Stay on your feet, cadet!" Zack's voice rose from his memories, the barked orders echoing as he skidded across the floor. His head bashed against cold stone, and his vision swam. But, despite the pain, he quickly righted himself like the good SOLDIER he was.
Cloud stumbled up the next flight of stairs, knees wobbling with the sway of the building.
"It's okay to be afraid, but don't let those fears control you." Another lesson he'd had ingrained in his head, coming forwards when he felt that slight pang of fear niggling at the back of his consciousness. "Instead, use it to make you stronger"
"I'm not afraid," Cloud growled. Bloody fingers scrabbled against concrete as he jumped across a section of collapsed stairs and nearly missed.
The Zolom's jaws snapped next to Cloud's head, its breath hot and smelling of blood and decay. When he finally tore his way through the exit door at the top of the stairs, he gratefully inhaled mouthfuls of fresh air. The pollution, though still lingering, had mostly settled into a smog close to the ground. This left the air this high up smelling crisp and slightly damp.
"It's going to rain." Cloud took in the distant dark clouds to the east, illuminated gold by the setting sun in the west.
Cloud had only a brief moment to grumble about how wet and miserable the ride home was going to be before his foe caught up.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Cloud felt a strong gust of wind whip his hair as the serpent burst through after him. He saw his distorted reflection in old metal beams, Mako-tinged eyes wild and remorseless. It reminded him of how little humanity was left inside him. In fact, Cloud was hardly different than the Zolom. He'd probably killed more people and creatures than it had in its entire life.
Cloud's heart pounded, and he could no longer bear to look at his own reflection.
His body twisted, preparing itself for battle.
One
Cloud's left foot was planted firmly out in front of him, legs widened into a proper stance.
Two
He brought his sword up before him, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
Three
Cloud's eyes sprang open, and he settled his sharp glare on the hissing beast before him. The first swing of his sword sliced quickly through the air and nicked the Zolom just below its jaw.
"Why keep fighting?" Sephiroth's voice rose from his subconscious like Zack's. However, unlike the firm support in his friend's tone, Sephiroth's was cruel and mocking.
Cloud took a step back as the Zolom raged and struck forwards. one of its sharp fangs sliced through the material of his sleeve, leaving behind a stinging wound.
"Wouldn't it be so nice to let go?"
Cloud was forced to take another step back, his resolve wavering as he began to lose balance. The wind was strong, pounding against his lithe form and making it difficult to hear. Thunder rolled in the distance, and lightning illuminated black scales as the Zolom struck again.
"Just let go." Sephiroth's voice faded with the roaring wind and hissing beast. Cloud tried his best to swing his sword forward, hoping the Zolom would be forced back. Unfortunately, his efforts were fruitless when the creature snapped at his blade, knocking it from his hand. Cloud could do nothing but watch helplessly as it fell over the side of the building.
Cloud felt the Zolom's damp breath against the back of his neck. His lids fell closed. "I'm not afraid." He repeated his earlier sentiment, even as his heart lept into his throat.
"If you're scared, come find me." Despite its baritone rumble, Zack's voice had always been warm and sweet to Cloud. "I'll always be there to catch you when you fall."
Cloud inhaled sharply and finally gathered the courage to jump over the roof's edge. Falling voluntarily to an instant death was better than being ripped to shreds by a fanged serpent.
Cloud could feel the power of his decent beating at his body as he continued to pick up momentum. Daring to open his eyes for a split second, the scenery was astonishingly beautiful. The sun had begun to set, and he could see miles out into the desert. He could even see Edge in the distance. All manner of creatures roamed the sandy planes, fighting each day to survive.
Cloud could only describe the feeling of falling as "weightless and free." Nothing could reach him here, descending through the air as the wind cradled his head like a mother does her child. His eyes began to fall shut anew. He knew this moment would only be that -- a brief moment. It was the best thing he'd ever felt and the last thing he'd ever feel. And even as Cloud saw red behind his closed lids, when he finally hit the ground, he saw something he hadn't seen in a while.
Pure, untainted white.
There was no pain, no sound, and no fear.
Just as soon as the cold hug of the breeze left him, Cloud was overcome by the warm embrace of thin arms. The scent of wildflowers filled his senses, making him sigh contentedly.
Aerith
He tried to speak, but it was like he was frozen in time, unable to move a single muscle. Cloud had so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask.
Just as soon as Aerith's soothing embrace and sweet scent had filled his being, it fled him. He felt suffocated as the light around him slowly faded into harsh darkness. It was the deepest and most consuming shade of midnight he'd ever witnessed. As it swallowed him, he began to lose all manner of self-awareness.
Little by little, he withered away. In the end, he had no fear to give and no tears to shed, but that was okay because heroes don't cry.