Road to Sunrise by Shtuff

Subject: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 6:51 pm

(-I'll just post the story here chapter by chapter =3 I'm only posting five chapters for now so if you're interested in the story and would like to know what happens message me and I'll post more =3 IT really is an awesome story!-)

Chapter I: In Reach of Freedom

Here, the desert stretched on forever—an endless sea of sand, rippling in time to the lonely wind. The sun beat down mercilessly, its harsh glare reflecting off the sand and making it near impossible to see. This place had been beautiful once. Rivers and lakes had dotted the landscape, blue gems in an endless sea of green. But its beauty was stolen by war and greed, leaving only scarred surfaces and empty spaces behind.

Not many ventured into this wasteland. It was rumored that wild animals roamed its open dunes, preying on unsuspecting travelers. Bandits presented another threat, hiding behind large boulders to ambush those passing by. The air was still and silent—not a living thing for miles on end—but then, a sound drifted from the west and increased in intensity.

It was a dull roar, drawing steadily closer—the unmistakable whine of a helicopter.

A black speck appeared on the horizon, dark against the white light of the sun. It grew as it approached, flying low over the towering rock formations and cliffs that rose from the earth. On the side of the craft a red seal stood out against the black paint.

Shinra Electric Company.

Within the chopper, two figures peered through the windows, keen eyes searching the ground for any signs of life. Both were dressed in identical blue suits and sported matching headsets.

The similarities ended there, however.

The pilot had a mass of flaming red hair, sticking out in all directions on the crown of his head before terminating into a long ponytail that hung down his back. Sharp gray eyes, glowing with mako, stood out against pale skin—youthful features only marred by two red slashes beneath each eye. A suit jacket hung open from his lean frame, protecting a white shirt unbuttoned at the top while goggles rested on his forehead, keeping long bangs from obscuring his vision. Dirty combat boots furiously worked the pedals, keeping the helicopter in the air.

His partner was smooth and professional—suit pressed, tie present, shirt starched, dress shoes polished. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes and light streaming in through the window reflected on a shaved crown. His skin was several shades darker than his partner’s but just as smooth with a neatly trimmed beard adding age and maturity.

“They want the two of us,” the pilot spoke, breaking the silence with a lazy drawl, “to find them in this desert wasteland.” He shook his head and scoffed. “Impossible.”

His partner turned his head slightly to look at him. “We always accomplish our missions…”

“We’re Turks,” the other finished, looking over at him, an air of offense tinting his words.

“Yeah.”

Turks.

The very name itself struck fear into the hearts of those who heard it. Elite assassins, the President’s bodyguards, no one crossed a Turk and lived.

No one.

The bald one continued. “Tseng has something he would give him.”

His red-headed companion glanced at him in surprise. “To the target?”

“Yes.”

The pilot sighed. “A failed postman.” His eyes flicked down to the box of letters sitting between them. “A mission that’s taking over a year.”

A contemplative silence fell between them as both retreated into their own thoughts. A sharp crackle emitted from their headsets, dragging them back to the present.

“Reno. Rude. Anything yet?” The voice was deep and refined, even over the distorted connection.

Both shook their heads.

“Nothing at all.” Reno quipped.

A sigh crackled through the headphones. “All right. Keep looking. Try moving to point 120.”

“Roger, Tseng.”

“Understood,” Rude added.

“We’d better hurry,” Reno said grimly, jerking the control stick. The helicopter veered to the left, speeding off to the east, the two Turks still searching for their elusive target.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Far to the east, miles ahead of the Shinra helicopter, a truck deposited precious cargo near a large boulder before speeding away across the desert, dust billowing in its wake, the roar of its engine shattering the stillness. As it vanished over a small rise, two figures struggled toward a large boulder, one man dragging the other.

The first was dressed in the dark blue uniform of a SOLDIER, a large sword strapped to his back, glinting in the desert sun and bearing no signs of use. With a grunt, he propped his companion up against the rock, watching as the young man slumped forward, lifeless.

The way he had been for a year.

Zack Fair swallowed, pain pricking at his chest as he stared at the comatose form of his friend. Glowing mako eyes welled with sadness for a brief instant. It shouldn’t be like this. Biting his lip, Zack reached out slowly, gripping Cloud Strife’s blond hair lightly and shaking him, desperately hoping he would wake up.

No response.

Cloud only slumped further forward, sliding down the rough surface of the rock toward the hot sand—a limp doll unable to support his own weight.

Zack could feel his heart breaking.

He had hoped to see his friend open his eyes at least once before the end. For he knew this was good-bye. They were coming for him. He could hear the choppers in the distance. And, as a black mass on the horizon, Midgar mocked him, offering the tantalizing promise of a safety he would never reach.

I hope you make it, Cloud.

He couldn’t bring himself to say good-bye. The words lodged in his throat like glue. So he smiled, conveying everything he needed to say in one simple gesture, and slowly stood, drawing the last pieces of his strength. He could run no longer. Now, at last, it was time to fight.

As he turned and strode away he failed to see the figure at the base of the rocks stir and extend a hand toward him, silently begging him to stay.
They gathered on the ridge, dozens of them—light clothing blending in with the wasteland, triple eyes on their helmets glowing an ominous red. They spilled over the ridge onto the ground, one crawling mass, as two choppers circled overhead, noisy predators waiting for the prey. As one, they cocked their weapons—the ominous clicking drowning out the whirr of the aircrafts.

Zack surveyed them silently—hands on his hips, sad smile gracing his lips.

At least they took me seriously.

The thought brought a dry chuckle bubbling to his lips as he struggled to disregard everything he would never do, the life he would never live. For they were here to execute him and he knew they would succeed.

But he would take as many with them as he could.

“Jeez … the cost of freedom sure is high.”

It would take his last, his all, his everything, but he was willing to give it.

Not for revenge, not for justice, not even for freedom, but for a boy with blond hair who deserved a chance to live,for a girl with gentle features whom he loved, for the man who had taught him so much…

… and for himself, to prove to Shinra Electric Company that he was a SOLDIER and a hero.

They were waiting. He could feel the tension in the air. With a grim smile, he removed Angeal’s—his—sword from his back and held it firmly in front of him, staring at his image in the reflection.

He was going to die. He would never see Aerith again, or Cloud. After coming so far and running so hard, he was going to die.

But it didn’t matter. Because if they could live he was willing to be the sacrifice.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword. “Hold tightly to your dreams…” He had held the words in his heart since the day Angeal spoke them. Now, he whispered them for himself and for the boy lying behind the rock whom he hoped would one day discover their meaning. “…and no matter what time comes…” The sword flashed bright in the sunlight as he brought it down. “… as a SOLDIER …” He swung the sword behind him, muscles taut, ready. “…never let go of your pride!” The last words ended in a defiant yell.

They could take his life, but his dreams and his pride would always be his alone.

A cry came from his throat, echoing off the rocks, soaring toward the sky.

A hero’s last battle cry.

His last, his all, his everything, here now, for Shinra to see, to show them alone he was a hero.

He charged forward, watching them raise their guns, hands poised on the triggers. The first shot erupted, a harsh crack of thunder.

And the world suddenly shrank. There was no more Cloud, no more Aerith, no more Midgar, only him, Shinra and the end of everything.

But if he could die with honor that would be enough.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Icy rain assaulted him the minute he stepped from the chopper, wind from the dying blades whipped his hair and clothes in every possible direction, and mud sucked at his shoes. Reno hardly noticed the cold, too intent on the grim scene before him.

Broken pieces of armor and weapons littered the ground. Blood trickled over the rocks, washing away with the falling rain, forming a stream of red that ran right past his feet. The survivors of the battle moved among the wreckage, gathering the bodies of their comrades and struggling to clean up the mess. But one thing, disturbed him—sent a spike of fear and dread through his veins—there were no prisoners, no sign of his target anywhere.

Rude climbed down behind him, also taking in the damage with a critical eye.

“It must have been some fight,” he murmured.

Reno sighed and started forward, further into the chaos. “Wait with the chopper. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for Rude’s response, but trekked toward the captain standing in the center of the fray, barking orders to his men.

“What happened here?” Reno asked casually, stopping behind the soldier.

The man whirled, fear darkening his normally impassive features as he stared at the imposing figure only a foot away. He gulped quietly. Turks—the one group of people he had hoped never to meet.

Reno raised an eyebrow impatiently and the captain hurriedly stuttered over a reply. “He just came at us, sir. Like a man possessed. It was … crazy.” He shuddered—mako eyes and a lone, angry yell echoing through his mind.

Reno crossed his arms, staring hard at the man. “Where is he now?”

“Dead, sir.”

The Turk’s reaction was not the one he had been hoping for. Glowing orbs narrowed to slits and a dark frown twisted pale lips. “Dead?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The captain stammered fearfully, hoping the ground would open and swallow him, anything to get away from the Turk.

He nearly cried out when an EMR appeared in his vision, humming with electricity and pointed straight at his heart. “Those were not you orders. You were told to wait for us.Those men were supposed to be taken alive, you idiot.”

The captain could feel himself trembling, fear throbbing in every vein at the sight of the Turk’s eyes sparking with rage. “B-but, s-sir, he j-just came a-at us and…”

The mag rod crackled louder as the Turk thumbed it to a higher setting—the shrill electric whine drowning out the patter of the rain. “I don’t care about your excuses! He was supposed to be taken alive.”

The soldier knew he was going to die and shut his eyes tightly beneath his helmet as Reno raised the weapon threateningly, preparing to strike.

“Reno.” Rude’s stern voice cut through the silence, stopping Reno mid-attack.

Glancing over his shoulder, Reno frowned at the sight of his partner walking towards him across the battlefield. “C’mon, Rude, I’m only going to fry him a little.”

Rude stopped and shook his head. There had been enough blood shed already. Reno seemed to understand and lowered his arm—a long, rattling sigh accompanying the movement. The captain opened one eye, peering at the Turk cautiously.

Reno chuckled bitterly. “I guess this is your lucky day. Now get out of my sight.”

He was happy to obliged, scrambling away to help his men and thankful to have some distance between him and the crazy Turk.

“What happened?” Rude asked.

Reno turned around slowly, EMR still in hand, fury still a fire in his gaze. “They killed him,” he spat.

Rude didn’t seem surprised, but bowed his head in subtle grief nonetheless.

Reno continued, looking around him at the field of death. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not like this…” Another bitter laugh, and pain crept in alongside the anger in gray mako eyes. “Those idiots.”

His eyes found two lumpy tarps lying on the bluff, protecting the bodies of the targets from the rain. They lingered there, taking in the simple scene and welling with regret.

“But then again, we’re all monsters.” It was a quiet murmur and he tore his gaze away from the tarps to the blood spattering the ground. “What other end is there?”

Rude said nothing, off-balance by his partner’s strange behavior. Usually, Reno didn’t care this much about a mission.

His partner whirled suddenly, eyes blazing with something Rude couldn’t define. He watched in silence as Reno stalked past him, marching toward the forgotten chopper. After a moment, he followed. Reno yanked open the door and reached inside, pulling the box of letters from the seat.

He paused for a moment, staring at it.

Letters, dozens of them, penned by a woman in love, never to be opened.

It hurt, for reasons he couldn’t understand and with an angry cry, he hurled the box over the edge of the cliff, watching as the white envelopes twirled and pivoted gracefully in the air, slowly fluttering toward the ground.

There was one letter left, on the floor of the chopper. He pulled it out, watching as the rain created dark stains on the pure white paper. Something stopped him from throwing this letter away—the same ache that had caused him to destroy the others.

He could feel Rude’s eyes on him, sense the silent concern radiating from his partner. With a tired sigh, he slid the letter into a pocket of his suit jacket, protecting it from the harsh rain. Turning around, he faced Rude fully and forced a smile to his lips.

“Let’s go report to Tseng.”

Rude nodded, refraining from commenting on Reno’s bizarre behavior. Reno wouldn’t mention it either. They could both pretend that they weren’t effected by Zack Fair’s death, by the bitter pain of failure. They would hide their aching, bleeding hearts behind walls of ice and stone for one simple reason—they were Turks.

And Turks didn’t feel.
The men watched the Turks go with silent relief, tension visibly draining from their postures. The captain shouted orders to his men and slowly they began to pack up their equipment and retreat over the ridge. They would set up camp far away from the scene of battle, tend their wounded and bury their dead. Then, they would return and give the two refugees the burial they deserved.

The ex-SOLDIER’s courage had touched the hearts of many in the battalion. He deserved to be honored, though he might have killed many of their comrades. They were Shinra and such was life.

As they trudged away from the grim battleground none of them noticed when one of the tarps moved.

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 6:52 pm

Chapter II: Towards Safety

Where am I?

Everything hurt—his head, his chest, his arms, his legs. His lungs burned with every breath of air and the pounding ache between his eyes made him feel sick. Forcing back nausea and dizziness, he slowly opened his eyes, frightened of what he might find. All he was met with was darkness. Panicking, he threw out his hand, searching for something solid to hold onto. His fingers brushed something stiff that crackled when he ran his hand over it.

What?

Pushing against it, he was shocked when it yielded and fell away. Stars, he could see stars glimmering brightly against the expanse of black that stretched on forever. Looking up at them, he felt small and more than a little helpless.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the difficult task of standing. First, he put his palms flat against the earth. In mild surprise he realized they were covered with gloves.

Storing this away, he pushed against the ground and managed to get up on his knees. The world skewed left and he felt bile rising in his throat, but he doggedly resisted and continued on his quest. Pushing up on his toes, he rose unsteadily into a crouch, fighting dizziness and pain with every breath. He almost lost his balance but after a moment frantic maneuvering, he was back in control and with one last surge, rose to his feet.

The world spun and colors exploded in front of his eyes, lighting up the darkness. He swayed, unable to keep his balance, weak from the simple effort of standing.

Oh…

He forced himself to hold on, to ride out the spell. It would end soon enough. And after a time the earth stopped spinning and the colors receded, except for lights in the distance, brilliant against the black night, trying to outshine the stars.

What is that place?

He searched backward through his memory. But he found nothing, just emptiness. Freezing, eyes wide with terror, he tried again, looking for something, anything. The emptiness laughed at him, blank page after blank page.

I … I don’t remember…

Not how he had gotten here, who he was, where he had been, or why he hurt so badly. Nothing, not even his name.

Frantic, he sifted again, focusing, trying harder. There hadto be something. Then, a name bubbled to the surface, crisp and clear.

Cloud …. Cloud … Strife…

His name, that was his name. But there was something else, something faint—a voice, whispering across time, stretching through his memories. He couldn’t hear the words, but he knew the tone. And a face … a face was slowly forming, piecing itself together from the fragments of his memory.

Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes that glowed with something not entirely human, and an easy, confident smile that rarely faded or wavered.

Who…?

Struggling to force air into his aching lungs and remain on his feet, Cloud tried to find a name to accompany the face. It struck suddenly, hitting with the force of lightning.

Zack.

Instinctively he knew that Zack could be trusted, Zack was his friend. And perhaps, he could fill in the pages. Perhaps he knew the whole story. But, where was Zack?

Glowing eyes jerked back and forth, trying to find the friend he had only just discovered but couldn’t imagine losing. After a few minutes, right when he was about to fully succumb to the panic seizing him, he saw a tarp lying a few feet away—with a pale arm sticking out from underneath.

Heart lurching, he half ran, half stumbled toward it and collapsed on his knees in the dirt. Wrenching the tarp away, a strangled sob slipped from his throat when he saw his friend lying in the mud—pale as a ghost and covered in blood. There was so much blood. Toomuch. The blood should be inside Zack, not staining the ground.

No, no, no, no….

Gasping, Cloud checked desperately for a pulse, any sign that his friend, his lifeline, was still alive. It was agonizing work, but at last, at last, he found it—so incredibly faint, but there all the same. Sinking back on his haunches, Cloud took a deep breath of sheer relief.

For now, Zack was alive.

A cold wind blew across his face, digging icy fingers into his skin. Shivering, Cloud stared out at the lights in the distance. He had to get Zack to safety and those lights seemed like his best chance. Fighting his own pain and sickness, Cloud forced himself to his feet again and hauled Zack upright, slinging his friend’s arm over his shoulder and ignoring the blood seeping through his clothing, warm against his skin.

He wavered for a moment, off-balance from Zack’s weight. Pain set his nerves on fire and he gritted his teeth, using every ounce of will-power to keep himself upright. He would get them to those lights. He owed it to his friend.

The first step was agony and every step after that, but Cloud kept going, doggedly dragging his friend behind, eyes fixed on the city in the distance.

He desperately hoped, it would offer them safety.

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 6:54 pm

Chapter III: Within the walls of Midgar

It was only here the flowers grew. The rest of Midgar was dark and dank, an endless maze of steel and debris. But here, in this old church on the edge of the city, life bloomed. No one knew why the flowers sprouted here, though many—street orphans and those lacking hope—had come to see them.

Some thought it was the faint sunlight that filtered through the molded ceiling, but others insisted it was the girl who tended to them.

She was soft-spoken and gentle in nature, beautiful beyond compare, inside and out. Some thought she was angel, a ray of light in this dark city. She thought they were foolish. She was just a girl, hardly anyone special. She only took care of the flowers, pouring her heart and soul into them, and waited.

Waited for him.

It had been five years now, a lifetime. He had promised her he would come back and she had clung to that promise with all she had. Now, however, her heart was wavering.

Kneeling among the flowers, Aerith Gainsborough rolled the red ribbon around in her hands. It usually tied back her long auburn hair, but today she couldn’t keep herself from taking it out and looking at it. It was faded and worn with time, but still as soft as the day he had given it to her. The day he had left on a mission. The last day she had seen him.

She could still remember his radiant smile, the twinkle in his eyes when he had handed her the ribbon.

“So you don’t forget you have a boyfriend while I’m gone.”

His laugh still rang clear in her memory, brightening her heart on the darkest of days. She missed him so much it hurt and she was appalled to find herself doubting that he would return.

Where are you, Zack? It’s been so long.

Aerith hung her head, fighting uncharacteristic tears. She rarely cried. Especially for Zack. She had always felt that tears would let him down somehow. But it had been five years, with no word from him.

Had he forgotten? Was he dead?

More than likely.

Plucking a flower from its resting place, Aerith held it up to the faint sunlight, twirling it in her fingers gently. She loved the flowers. They were a balm to her soul. A channel for her love. For it was her love for Zack she poured into her flowers. Perhaps that was what made them grow.

But five years was so long.

Aerith let the flower fall to the floor.

Maybe I’ve held on too long.

If Zack was alive he would have sent word by now. She couldn’t wait forever, though she wanted to. Looking at the ribbon one last time, Aerith let a few tears slide down her cheeks, tears for the man she loved who wasn’t coming home.

I’ll always love you, Zack.

Carefully, she once again fastened her hair with the ribbon. Eyes set in quiet determination, but filled with grief, she stood and picked up her flower basket. She walked from the church without a backward glance, shutting the door behind her, sealing the beautiful flowers inside, where they would be safe from harm.

Then, with head held high, Aerith marched down the street and into her future.

I’m sorry, Zack, I can’t wait for you anymore.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

There was a certain beauty to Midgar that few could appreciate—something exquisitely intricate about the endless maze of metal and the teeming masses. Below, in the dirge of the slums, Midgar was anything but beautiful, but from up here, high above the pollution—where all one saw was the shimmering lights—it was gorgeous beyond belief.

It was beautiful because he owned it.

The sprawling mass of steel answered to him and only him. He was its master, its god. And he loved it.

President Shinra smiled to himself as he stood looking down on his city. He often could be found here, staring out the expansive windows of his office. Midgar was perfect in his eyes. Except for one thing. Anger sprouted in his chest just thinking about the blemish on his city and his eyes narrowed into slits, destroying the stain in his mind.

One ragtag group of rebels thought that they could defy him, thought they knew what was best for this city. Their cries for justice had cast a shadow over his fame, over Midgar’s beauty. He no longer could look out his window without thinking of them and the damage they had caused his company.

One hand curled into a trembling fist as sharp eyes blackened with silent rage.

AVALANCHE had been a thorn in his side for years, but soon, soon he would find them.

And he would crush them.

“Okay, people, keep it down!”

The insistent whisper brought instant quiet to the dark room as all eyes turned swiftly to look at its source. The towering man glowered at them, upset at their carelessness. Shinra had spies everywhere. And they couldn’t afford to be caught. Not now.

One woman toward the front of the crowd brushed dark hair out of her crimson eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Barrett,” she murmured apologetically, a smile of wry amusement tugging on her lips.

Barrett huffed, folding massive arms across an equally muscular chest. “Now,” he said, meeting every eye the room, “that it’s quiet, let’s focus on business shall we.”

Everyone nodded, cowed by his stern gaze. “Do we have everything lined up?”

One man near the back frowned. “Not quite. Some things are still in the works.”

Barrett grunted in impatience and disprovable. “How much longer?”

The man shrugged. “One month. Give or take.”

The woman glanced at Barrett, worry in her eyes. “That’s a pretty long time,” she said quietly.

Barrett nodded, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “I know, but it will have to do.”

The members of AVALANCHE nodded. Soon, they would go after the company that had destroyed so many of their lives, and were killing so many more. Soon, they would have Shinra in their reach.

And they would destroy it.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

His hands were shaking again—a slight tremor that never seemed to go away. Taking a deep breath, he struggled once more to steady them. The attempt ended in failure, like always. So he ignored his traitorous appendages and focused on the task at hand.

The bandages were still bloody, even after nearly a week. Small red spots splattered the pristine cloth as he slowly pulled it away from his friend’s chest. At least they weren’t soaked through like they had been before.

Zack didn’t stir as Cloud struggled to prop him up, one arm slung around his shoulders, the other bracing his back. The cloths fell to the dirty floor, cast away by Cloud’s hand. Cloud laid Zack down gently on the only bed in the room, wincing as it groaned beneath the man’s weight.

More bandages nestled snugly in a brown canvas bag—a gift from the lady who had found them and brought them here. Cloud found some clean ones and set them on the bed, filled a bowl with water, and carefully cleaned his friend’s wounds. They were starting to heal over, thankfully. But they still leaked precious life fluid.

Cloud wished that he knew more about such things. He could only do this much because the lady had shown him.

After several botched attempts and some ingenious maneuvering, Cloud managed to secure the bandages around Zack’s chest and torso. Laying his friend gently on the rickety bed, he sighed softly, wincing as pain pricked through his veins. The small twinges were daily occurrences, though they grew less sharp and frequent with each passing day. Taking a deep breath, Cloud leaned back against the headboard, ignoring the rough splinters that poked at his back through his clothing.

The lady had given him new clothing. He old outfit was mud stained and torn beyond repair. The clothes weren’t much and did little to protect against the cold, but he supposed they were enough.

Resting his chin on his knees, Cloud stared hard at Zack’s limp form.

Please, Zack, wake up. Move. Anything… something … please.

The other man didn’t respond to his silent pleas, remaining stiff and lifeless.

Like a corpse…

Cloud shuddered and edged closer to Zack, desperately wishing for some kind of protecting. The city was dark and dangerous--full of leering faces, twisted metal, pollution and sickness. His mind was still a blank slate and he knew it was nothing short of a miracle that he had managed to scrounge up consistent meals for himself. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, where he should even begin.

His mind felt wrong too. Something was there he was almost certain hadn’t been present before. Everything about him felt … off,more than just his missing memories, and he was terrified of what it could be.

A low whimper escaped his lips and he buried his head in his knees as the tremor moved from his arms through his veins, affecting his entire body.

Zack … please…

Zack slept on, oblivious.

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 7:07 pm

Chapter IV: Regaining Life

Sound was the first thing that penetrated the darkness—voices murmuring distantly, footsteps, the creak of wood. He recognized them all. But why would he be hearing them? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

Next, came feeling. Pain rushed through his veins, telling him he was very much alive and he hissed softly. Once the pain had lessened he could feel rough padding beneath him, something equally rough covering him, and a lump of fabric cradling his head.

Where am I?

He wasn’t sure, but he was going to find out. Mustering his strength, he forced his eyes open—inch by painful inch. At first there was just a blur of colors, moving in and out of each other in a way that made his head spin. But when he squinted and focused, they began to separate and take shape—a mottled ceiling, old, worn walls, a cement floor coated with dust … and blue eyes hovering anxiously above his face.

“Zack?” the voice was coarse and faint, but so familiar.

“Cloud?” he whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

Those glowing mako eyes were still dark with pain and sickness, but they were clearer and more focused than they had been in years. And when Cloud nodded, actually responding to his question, Zack almost wept in relief.

Not only was he alive, but his best friend had finally woken up.

“I … can’t … believe it,” he forced out, caught somewhere between sobbing and laughing.

Cloud didn’t smile. “I thought you’d never wake up,” he murmured.

“How … how… did you…?”

Cloud shrugged. “I don’t know. I woke up on this cliff and there was this city in the distance and you … you were dying. So, I dragged you here. Some old woman fixed you up and let us stay in this shack.”

Zack blinked in surprise and slowly took in his surroundings again. “Are we … in Midgar?” The question was hesitant. He was almost afraid to hope.

Cloud’s eyes darkened in confusion. “Midgar?” he repeated, saying the word as though it was foreign to his tongue.

Alarm raced through Zack. Cloud should know what Midgar was. It was where he had joined Shinra. It was where he had begun his SOLDIER training. It was the place he had called home for nearly three years.

“You … you don’t know what Midgar is?”

Cloud shook his head. “I … don’t remember. I don’t remember anything … except my name … and you.”

Zack wasn’t sure what to feel. Cloud didn’t remember? Was that a blessing or a curse? “Oh….” He managed, the word coming out so faint that Cloud had to lean forward to hear it.

“What’s Midgar?” Cloud’s voice sounded desperate.

“A city. The capital. I think … we’re in it. Which … is good. We should … be safe here.”

Cloud’s face twisted. “Safe from what?”

Zack couldn’t bring himself to tell him. Cloud had been burdened by pain and the past for so long. Too long. And this might be a change at freedom from its deathly grip. So instead he closed his eyes and pretended he hadn’t heard. Unfortunately, he forgot how persistent Cloud could be.

“Zack … something bad happened to us … didn’t it?”

Zack couldn’t lie. Not to Cloud. “Yes.”

Cloud sat back, disappearing from view. “I thought so.”

Ignoring the way his wounds screamed in protest, Zack managed to sit up in the rickety bed, looking at Cloud, who at the foot of it with his chin on his knees—looking so young and so old at the same time.

“We’re going to … be okay, Cloud.” He wasn’t sure if the words were true, but the assurance was all he had to give.

Cloud glanced at him, worry in his eyes. “I wish I could remember.”

No, you don’t.

But Zack couldn’t say that out loud. “Maybe the memories … will come back in time.”

“You should rest.”

Zack didn’t protest to the abrupt subject change for the pain and exhaustion was beginning to pull him back toward unconsciousness. “Okay … but as soon as … ‘M better … I’ll find work … for us … ‘kay?”

Cloud nodded. “Okay.”

As Zack fell back against the pillow and let sleep overtake him he made one last promise to himself.

And I’ll find you, Aerith.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

A long, weary sigh echoed faintly through the ramshackle building, emitting from the tired SOLDIER standing in the center of it. Finally, after nearly a week, he was standing. His chest still felt like it was on fire and the first time Cloud had removed the bandages he’d gaped in shock at the sheer number of holes in him. It was no small miracle that he’d lived. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the spike of pain in his chest protesting the action, Zack glared at his reflection in the cracked and broken mirror. The shards distorted his features oddly, twisting them out of proportion and dividing him up. Even without the odd deformities caused by the mirror, Zack knew he was quite a sight. His hair was grimy and too long for his tastes, bugging him for reasons he couldn’t explain, his face was pale from lack of sunlight and smudged slightly with dirt and he was redefining the term ‘skinny.’

Tilting his head, Zack watched idly as the mirror further misshaped his face, wondering what he could do about his less than pleasant appearance. There was no water to bath in and food was scarce, so thin and dirty he would remain, but his hair, he could do something about that. Gritting his teeth, the ex-SOLDIER pivoted slowly, scanning the room form a useful tool. His lips turned up in a smirk when spotted a large knife sitting inconspicuously on the dusty corner table.

Scooping it up, he didn’t bother to look at the mirror, just sliced straight up in one smooth motion, chopping his hair off in the back. Pieces drifted to the floor and bangs slid forward, framing his face. Zack sighed again and glanced at the mirror, inspecting his impromptu haircut. The back stuck out oddly and his bangs brushed his chin again, but he hardly minded. Vaguely, he realized he looked the same way he had back before this hold mess with Shinra started.

Good. That way, perhaps I can forget it ever happened. He paused, shaking his head and chuckling bitterly. Yeah right. That’s like trying to forget the moon exists.

The door to the shack creaked open and Cloud stumbled through, clutching something to his chest. Zack frowned, noting the tired lines around his friend’s blue eyes. He didn’t like Cloud doing all the work, not when the kid was still recovering from his own illness.

Cloud paused, looking mildly surprised to see Zack out of bed. “Hi,” he murmured after a moment, walking further into the room and dropping his package on the table.

“Are you okay?” Zack asked, worried by how sluggishly Cloud was moving today.

Cloud shrugged almost casually. “Are you?”

Zack paused, mulling it over. Was he? He highly doubted it. His chest still screamed in protest whenever he moved too much or breathed too deeply and he was beginning to realize that there were dozens of repressed memories waiting to be dealt with from the overwhelming trauma of the past five years. But, he needed to be strong. Cloud was counting on him. So he smiled, though it felt sad, and reassured him instead of telling the truth. “I will be.”

He wasn’t sure if Cloud believed him or not, but his friend didn’t’ press the issue, merely turned away and opened up the package, spilling various items onto the table. Zack peered over his shoulder and grinned sincerely. “Food,” he exclaimed happily. “Oh yeah.”

Cloud didn’t laugh or even smile, which worried Zack, and something seemed to be troubling him. His eyes were distant, focused inward and perplexed look darkened his face. Zack’s grinned slipped away, replaced by a frown of concern.

“Cloud?”

Cloud blink, snapping back to the present. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

Cloud frowned, looking at the ceiling. “What’s right?” He answered back cryptically, a hint of bitterness ghosting the edges of his voice.

Zack’s frown deepened. “What’s bothering you?” he pressed, frustrated by Cloud’s attempts to dodge him.

Cloud’s expression turned distant again but fear was there too. “I think … something’s wrong with me.” He whispered it, eyes on the floor and Zack’s stomach churned.

“How so?” He managed to keep his voice calm, despite the storm raging in him.

Cloud’s face contorted as he searched for the right words. “I … don’t know. Something just … doesn’t feel right.” He sighed, shaking his head and gnawing on his lip, looking like he wanted to say more but was afraid to.

“Spit it out,” Zack commanded, grasping his friend’s shoulders. “What else?”

Slowly, Cloud pulled away and tugged his shirt over his head. “This…” muttered, holding out his arm.

Zack’s breath caught in his throat. A tattoo stood out dark against Cloud’s pale skin, on his upper arm, just beneath his shoulder—the Roman numeral for eight above an odd symbol. Carefully he traced it, biting back equal amounts of pain and anger. Hojo had marked his best friend, staining him forever as an experiment. Zack’s teeth clenched involuntarily, keeping the rage in check.

I’ll kill him.

“Zack?” Cloud whispered, sounding so small. “What does this mean?”

(-continued on next post-)

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 7:08 pm

(-continued-)

Zack closed his eyes, hiding the agony in them. “I … I’m not sure,” he stammered. It was true enough. He knew it was Hojo’s sick work, but not the meaning behind the symbol. Though he could guess what the number was for…

Yep. I’m so going to kill him. He’d better watch his back…

“Just forget it, Cloud,” he mumbled, feeling incredibly tired.

Anger sparked briefly in Cloud’s eyes. “Why? What if it’ll help me remember?”

The haunted look in Zack’s eyes scared him beyond belief. How could someone still smile, when their eyes contained so many shadows, so much pain, What had Zack seen to put such a look in his eyes? Such a terrifying mixture of guilt, regret, shame, and agony.

Do … do my eyes look like that?

When Zack spoke it was a tortured whisper. “Some things are better off being forgotten.”

Cloud didn’t reply. No words could counter such a heartfelt statement. Instead he changed the subject, telling Zack to get some rest. Zack protested, but eventually collapsed back into bed while Cloud struggled to prepare a decent meal, thoughts running circles in his head.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

ONE MONTH LATER

“… and you hold the sword like this.”

Cloud nodded intently, mirroring Zack’s position with surprising ease. Zack kept his shock in check and continued with the sword lesson.

“All right, now it’s a sideways sweep followed by another sideways sweep in the other direction then an upward slash.”

Cloud followed the instructions swiftly and perfectly, handling a sword with a grace that reminded Zack a bit of Sephrioth.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You’re getting good.”

And it was true. In a month Cloud was somewhere between third and second class in the SOLDIER program. A position most couldn’t hope for in a year. Albeit, Cloud had been in training to enter SOLDIER at the time of Nibelheim, but most of those memories had been lost.

Cloud had been talented, that much was for sure. He still remembered his conversation with Angeal, the first time he saw Cloud.

“They want him to enter SOLDIER?”

“Yes. He has a lot of talent. More than I’ve seen in years.”

“He’s a stick! And he’s just a kid!”

“So? You were when you joined if my memory serves me correctly.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I think that he might be as strong as Sephiroth one day.”

“Impossible!”

“Nothing’s impossible, Zack. Nothing.”

Maybe Angeal had been right about Cloud. The thought was frightening for some reason. Zack didn’t want to live through another Sephiroth. He shuddered, remembering mako eyes full of madness and a cold steel sliding into his flesh.

“Thanks.” Cloud’s soft murmur brought him back to the present.

“Welcome,” Zack said, forcing a smile. “I’m going to go look for some food. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Okay.” Cloud said and focused again on the blade in his hands. Zack shook his head and slipped from the shack they had called home for the past five weeks. Immediately, he was assaulted by the dirty sights and smells of the slums.

The pollution nearly choked him, but he had slowly grown accustomed to it. Others around him, however, seemed strangely ill. After a month he hadn’t been able to figure out what the source of the disease was and had given up, forcing himself to leave well enough alone. As long as he or Cloud didn’t contract it, it was none of his business.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Zack sighed and looked up at the dark plate above him, blocking the sky. It made this whole place feel like a prison. This wasn’t the Midgar he remembered. He wasn’t’ sure how long he’d been away, but a lot had certainly changed. Everything seemed dirtier, grittier, and darker than he remembered. Or maybe, it was him who’d changed.

He’d made a faster recovery than he’d anticipated, feeling almost back to normal within a few short weeks. Three, if his memory served him correctly. But the days flowed together in an endless blur, making it hard to tell. As soon as he’d been able, he’d forced Cloud to take a break, scared about how worn down he was, and hit the streets, searching for something to get them back on their feet. Work was scarce. Here, it was every man for himself. So far, every place he had looked into had been a dead end and he had been forced to resort to stealing and begging—two things he despised.

Dodging some garbage and a drunk, he sighed again, fighting his frustration. It had been a month and he couldn’t find it. He’d forgotten where it was. How could he have? It had been the place where he had met her. The place he had fallen in love with her. The place he had said good-bye to her. He shouldn’t have forgotten.

But he had.

He no longer knew where the old church was and everyone he asked was too drunk, too busy, or too suspicious to give him an answer. So he had spent one long, weary month wandering the streets of Midgar, searching for her face among the crowd, looking for the church amidst the endless sprawl of broken buildings.

Nothing had come of his search and he was about to despair.

Someone brushed against him roughly, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. After catching his balance, he saw a man in a suit with a gold chain, hurrying through the crowds. He stood out like a sore thumb in the slums and was obviously nervous about being here. The gold chain was a sure sign of wealth.

Zack narrowed his eyes.

I’m sure he won’t mind sharing.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the man. While a part of him relished the challenge another part was desperately hoping that this would not be his existence.

A gasp slipped from his lips the minute he stepped into the dilapidated shack. Feet pounding against the hard floor, he rushed to the form slumped against the far wall.

“Cloud!”

The blond shifted, moaning softly as Zack took a hold of his shoulders and shook him. “Cloud!”

Cloud’s eyes fluttered and slowly opened. The fear raging in Zack’s heart eased a bit, letting anger seep in. “What were you thinking?”

Cloud blinked. “… was … training.”

“You’re still sick!”

This wasn’t the first time he had found his friend in this state. Often, he had come home to find that Cloud had trained to the point of collapse. While he was improving in leaps and bounds, it was bad for his health and Zack’s. He was beginning to question the merit of his idea to teach Cloud how to fight. He hadn’t wanted his friend to be defenseless, but if Cloud was going to consistently overwork himself, maybe it was better to stop and simply defend him when the time came.

“I know.”

“Why, then?” He was going to a straight answer this time.

Cloud averted his eyes. “I … don’t know.”

Zack didn’t relent. “You’re lying.”

Cloud took a deep breath. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Zack shook his head fiercely They had been over this too many times to count in the past couple weeks and it was frustrating him to no end. “There’s nothing wrong with you! Nothing!”

Cloud’s eyes bore into his. “Yes. There is. I can’t remember anything. And I feel … empty … numb.” His eyes glazed over for a brief instant, looking at something only he could see but before Zack could comment, they cleared and refocused on him. “Something’s not right.”

“But why push yourself so hard?” Zack changed the topic, not wanting to delve into all the possible outcomes of Hojo’s inhuman experimentation.

Cloud’s shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “It’s something to focus on.”

Zack frowned. “Don’t do it anymore. I’ll die from worry if every time I come back I find you unconscious.”

“Sorry.”

The frown dissipated, replaced by a light smile. “It’s okay, Spiky.”

Cloud blinked in silent confusion. “Spiky?”

Zack chuckled, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, I used to call you that. It always got you upset.”

Cloud still seemed confused. “Oh … I see.”

Worry crept into Zack’s heart. Cloud was right. Something was … off. Cloud was too cold, too distant. Five years ago, the nickname “Spiky” would have garnered a cry of outrage. Now, Cloud didn’t react at all.

“Zack?”

Zack shook his head slightly, blinking his eyes back into focus. Cloud was looking at him intently. “Yeah?”

“Did you get more food?”

Zack sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”

As he took out the loaf of bread he had purchased with the rich man’s money and split it with Cloud, the ex-SOLDIER wondered how much longer they would survive.

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 7:34 pm

Chapter V: A Rebel's Proposal

“We’re ready.”

The news should have brought some measure of happiness, at least a small degree of relief, but he felt only grim determination and slight frustration.

“Our numbers aren’t big enough. We need someone with more fighting skill!”

The other shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe a mercenary?”

Barrett sighed. “Those are not readily available.”

“We could look.”

[The right corner of the rebel leader’s mouth twitched upward. “You’re right. We could.”

“We’d need someone good with no ties to Shinra and nothing to lose.”

Barret’s smile widened. “Or … we find someone who hates Shinra and has nothing to lose.”

The other smirked. “Perfect.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Perfect…

Zack frowned grimly at the Shinra patrol heading down the polluted street, marching in perfect unison, guns cocked and ready to fire—the glowing red marks on their helmets like dark eyes, striking fear into the hearts of the lowlifes and drunkards who scampered out of their path.

From his hiding place behind a group of barrels overflowing with trash and leaking a suspicious green fluid, Zack tightened his grip on his sword, every muscle tensing as adrenalin pounded through his veins. He had hoped never to see the masked soldiers again. They had taken so much from him. He vaguely remembered the feel of rain on his skin—the cold water mixing with the warm blood seeping from his wounds. Cloud’s lifeless eyes swam before his vision and memories of a cold, dark lab filled with torture and pain made his blood boil.

Shinra. The very name was a curse.

Electric. What a hoax. The only things they truly did were kill, maim, and destroy. He had seen it all. Angeal’s broken eyes, Sephiroth’s face twisted by insanity, Cloud looking at him with a gaze filled with so much pain. All those hopes, all those dreams—gone forever.

Company. They were more than that, he knew. They were gods. They decided who lived, who died, who rose, who fell. They played with hearts and lives as though they were pieces on a chess board, pawns in a game.

His sword was in his hand, he realized—his fingers curled so tight around the hilt that it hurt. Angeal had given the sword to him. Angeal—one of the many casualties of Shinra.

The patrol was almost to him, their footsteps thunder in his ears.

Zack gritted his teeth. He wanted to attack with every cell in his body, but he couldn’t. Cloud would suffer. They would have to run again. And he would lose his chance to find the girl he loved.

No, he just had to get up and walk past them as though nothing was wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Zack sheathed his sword, hiding it behind the long coat he found in a dumpster two weeks back, and slowly rose to his feet, keeping his head down to hide the mako glow of his eyes. The troops barely glanced at him. One looked his way for a brief instant, but decided Zack—dirty and disheveled, dressed in ratty clothes and staring intently at the ground in an almost submissive gesture—was beneath his notice and turned away.

They were almost to the end of the street, about to turn the corner, when thunder echoed down the dark pathway. Zack’s head jerked up, glowing eyes darting back and forth, searching the shadows for the source of the commotion.

There…

To his left, three dark patches, holding guns aimed right at the Shinra troops. The soldiers were turning, pulling their own weapons from their holsters in response to the ambush. They far outnumbered the attackers and it wouldn’t be long before they pinpointed the source of the shots. It was a foolish waylay but a brave one, and that gave it merit in the ex-SOLDIER’s eyes.

So he decided to help.

The Shinra soldiers were returning fire—sharp reports from their weapons louder than cannon blasts in the enclosed space. Bullets peppered the walls and the floor, overturning garbage barrels and sending people diving for cover. The three shadows moved, darting further away down the street toward a more defensible position. One courageous—or stupid—rebel paused in his flight to fire a few quick shots at the oncoming enemy. A stray bullet caught a soldier in the chest, killing him instantly, but the rest advanced, breaking into a run, determined to bring the rebels down.

It was time to intervene.

Quicker than lightning, Zack drew his weapon and tore down the street toward the Shinra grunts.

Only twelve. Piece of cake.

The blade glinted in the dim light, combining with Zack’s scintillating eyes to make a fearsome sight. The soldiers paused momentarily, startled by the new threat and struggling to decide on a course of action. It was pointless and far too late. They were already dead.

Zack cut through them easily, taking most down before they had a chance to move. One rolled out of his way, managing to bring his gun up and fire off a shot. It whistled past Zack’s head and embedded itself in the wall with a dull thump. The trooper was dead seconds later.

Thirty seconds. The fight was over before it ever began. In its wake, Zack stood tall, eyes blazing with the thrill of a challenge and vivacious life not even Shinra could quench.

The three rebels crept from their hiding spots, rifles still drawn, wary of their savior. Never in their lives had they seen someone move with such speed and skill. One of the three—the rebel who had risked a few shots during his flight—stepped forward, boldly approaching the SOLDIER.

He towered above Zack, massive in height and size with features carved of granite and dark eyes rife with suspicion and world weariness. Dark skin stood out against a white flax jacket and in replace of a right hand was a large, multi-barreled gun. Zack tensed, raising his sword slightly into a more defensive position.

The man chuckled in response, shaking is head. “Those are some moves you got there. I ain’t never seen anyone move that fast.”

Zack’s grip on his weapon loosened and he smiled slightly. “Lot’s of practice.”

The giant cocked his head. “Shinra?”

Zack’s lips pressed in a thin line of quiet displeasure. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

“You looking for work?”

“Yes.”

White teeth cut a line through dark skin. “I might just have a job for you.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The bar was in relatively good condition considering its location. Sector 7 rarely produced anything of quality. The windows were free of grime and only marred by one crack originating in the upper left corner and creeping down toward the middle of the large pane. The neon sign was free of bullet holes and only missing two letters, still perfectly legible. Zack quickly filled in the missing ‘s’ and ‘a’.

Seventh Heaven.

As they approached the front door—blinds preventing a good view of the interior—two of the rebels fell back and turned down separate streets, fading into the shadows of the alleys. Zack tensed, cursing himself for probably walking into a trap. In this maze of back alleys and darkened streets, an ambush was painfully easy. And he had left himself wide open.

Stupid ….

One hand clenched into a fist at his side while the other darted to the hilt of his sword. It would be an easy draw, since he left the hindering coat in the alley. He could kill the man in seconds and make a run for it. The gun arm might be a problem but he’d faced far worse.

The black man had reached the door and stopped, glancing over his shoulder at the ex-SOLDIER frozen in place halfway up the path. He arched an eyebrow, taking in the rigid stance and wary eyes. Understanding dawned on his face and he smiled, an oddly gentle gesture for someone of his build. “This ain’t a trap, kid. We ain’t got no reason to kill ya.”

“How do I know that?” Zack shot back.

The man shrugged. “You don’t, but you’re gonna have to trust somebody, someday. I ain’t gonna kill you. Either you can take my word for it and get in here, or you can leave and miss out on a job opportunity. Your choice, kid.”

Slowly, the shoulders relaxed and Zack’s hand fell back to his side. The man smiled again and beckoned him forward. He complied, caution still evident in every movement. The door to the bar opened with a faint creak and a wave of cool air brushed against Zack’s face. It smelled clean and was a refreshing break from the grit and pollution of the city streets. Sighing in faint contentment, the ex-SOLDIER followed his guide across the threshold into the bar, leaving the filthy city behind.

The interior of the bar was spacious and dim. Numerous ceiling fans whirred quietly, spreading the cool air around the room. Tables and chairs dotted the floor in a random pattern while a stately oak counter occupied the back wall, stretching almost the width of the room. Various pictures hung on the cream walls, adding color to the sparse room—moments in time trapped beneath cracked frames.

A lone woman stood behind the bar, wiping off the wood surface with a worn rag. Her arm moved in strong strokes, showing off the muscles of a fighter and her movements also possessed a strange grace that was captivating and … familiar. She was beautiful, he knew, even though her black hair hung in her, hiding in from view, before continuing onwards, spilling across her shoulders and down her back. The bits of skin he could see were as smooth as porcelain. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him, and dressed in red and black. The red shirt set off her hair and the black pants were loose and practical. Here was someone unconcerned with beauty. Two silver earrings—the only apparent jewelry she wore—shaped like teardrops flashed in the dim light and the feeling of familiarity only grew.

The door banged shut behind the man, causing her to glance up sharply. The air left in his lungs in a soft gasp as two-wine colored eyes locked onto his own. He knew those eyes. He’d seen them in the face of a teenager dressed in a cowgirl outfit, a lifetime ago. The eyes were the same, but the face had changed. It was more guarded, haunted—the unmistakable look of someone who had seen horrific things and buried loved ones.

The eyes drifted away from him, releasing him from their spell and focused on the black man. A small smile tugged at her lips, removing some of the years from her eyes. “Hello, Barret. How’d the raid go?”

Barrett huffed angrily. “Not good.”

The smile vanished, taking her youth along with it. “Oh.”

Then, her eyes turned back to him and remained, scanning his face intently. Confusion slowly twisted her features, as well as concentration. He met her gaze evenly, memories rushing through his brain at the speed of light. The reactor, the girl with bright eyes standing next to him and Sephiroth while the cameraman snapped a picture, leading them up the mountain with a confident smile and step, in a pool of her own blood on the hard reactor floor. Though she had grown up, making him wonder just how long he had been away, he remembered and knew instantly who she was.

It’s her…

Tifa Lockhart.

Recognition flared in her eyes too, but it faded quickly, retreating behind an icy wall. Barrett, who had witnessed the bizarre staring match, glanced back and forth between them with a quizzical frown. “Do you two know each other or somethin’?”

Zack frowned, a positive reply on the tip of his tongue, but he held it in when Tifa shook her head. “No,” she said brusquely, dropping the rag somewhere behind the counter and moving to the sink. “I’ve never seen him before. Who is he?”

Zack blinked, puzzled by this bizarre turn of events. He was sure she was Tifa Lockhart and that she knew his identity. Why then, did she lie?

“Found him on the street. Saved us from Shinra. Says he used to be with ‘em and he’s lookin’ for work. Thought he’d suit our needs.”

Tifa shrugged idly, nodding. “Fine. Don’t mind me.”

Barrett shrugged in response and plopped down on one of the barstools, ignoring the way it groaned loudly in protest. Zack perched on the seat next to him, crossing his arms and regarding the rebel with forced indifference. A long awkward silence spanned the length of a few minutes as the two hesitated, unsure of where to begin.

Finally, Barrett spoke. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Zack didn’t blink. “I didn’t give it. But it’s Zack Fair, if you must know.”

More silence, then, “You in SOLDIER? Gotta be, with the way you move and those eyes. No mistakin’ a SOLDIER’s eyes.”

“First Class.”

Barrett whistled. “That high? You’re pretty young.”

An idle shrug. “I’m old enough.”

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Sun Jun 22, 2008 7:35 pm

(-continued-)

Barrett sighed softly. “Alright, enough chitchat.” He leaned forward, peering sideways at Zack. “I’ve got a job for you. Now, I ain’t got much money so I can only pay you one thousand gil.”

Zack frowned, eyes flashes in mute annoyance. “That’s pretty low.”

Barrett gritted his teeth in frustration. “It’s all we got, kid.”

Zack’s eyes hardened. “Five thousand.”

Barrett growled, a menacing look overtaking his face. “Why you little …”

The SOLDIER was hardly fazed. “Five thousand.”

“1,500.”

“Five thousand.”

“Two thousand!”

“Five thousand.”

“How dare …! 2,500. Final offer!”

Zack shook his head. “Five thousand.”

Barrett cursed loudly and slammed his hand on the counter, rising to his feet so quickly his stool tumbled to the floor with a resounding ‘thud.’ Zack shot to his feet as well, eyes flashing, and for a brief moment the two glared angrily at each other. Then, like a volcano, Barrett exploded.

A loud stream of expletives erupted from his mouth, followed by as many demeaning adjectives as his brain could supply. “You arrogant, upstart, stupid…!”

A loud bang interrupted his rant and both men glanced over at Tifa in surprise. She released her tight hold on the cup she had slammed against the counter and looked at them with fire-filled eyes, beautiful features contorted in frustration.

“Just give him the five thousand!” She yelled, punctuating her words with a sharp jerk of her hand in Zack’s direction. “We need him and you know it!”

Barret looked away in outrage but said nothing, agreeing with his silence. Tifa turned to Zack, crossing her arms and glaring at him with such intensity he shrank back almost visibly. Her stare was worse than Angeal and Rufus Shinra combined.

“Five thousand,” she hissed, “and not a gil more.”

Zack inclined his head, regaining his confidence rapidly and allowing a small smile to appear in the corner of his mouth. “Agreed.”

Tifa snorted and turned away, leaving them to sort the rest out. Zack slid back onto his stool, assuming a casual posture. “What’s the mission?”

Barrett remained silent for a long moment, reining in his anger. Finally, he took a deep breath, schooled his features into the picture of neutrality, righted to stool, and resumed his seat, folding his large arms on the bar. “We got somethin’ we need to blow up.” His tone was cautious, guarded.

Zack’s eyebrows catapulted upward. “Like what?”

Barrett sucked in another deep breath, hesitating for a long moment. Finally, he shook his head, reaching an internal decision. “Like a mako reactor.”

The ex-SOLDIER let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Who are you guys?”

Barrett frowned, warring with himself over how much to tell the kid. He decided it didn’t matter. They had little enough to lose. “Ever heard of AVALANCHE?”

Zack paused, sifting though his memories before nodding slowly. The name had come up years ago, not long after he joined Shinra. “Rebel group trying to overthrow Shrina.” He tilted his head to one side, regarding Barrett with a gentle smirk. “You, correct?”

Barrett nodded. “Yeah. We plan on sendin’ them a message. Wearin’ them down until they gotta give up.”

Zack let loose a short, almost bitter laugh, and rested his head on the bar. “Well, blowing up a mako reactor is a good first step.”

Barrett chuckled, warming up to the young man. “Yeah. So, what’s your story? Why you runnin’ from Shinra?”

The humor vanished from Zack’s eyes as fast as snowflakes in a desert and the brilliant blue dulled slightly under the weight of silent pain. “I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Barrett pressed.

Zack sighed and shrugged. “Both.”

Barrett frowned but Zack was saved from further interrogation when the door flew open and an auburn haired girl stumbled through. “Barret! Biggs wants you to come look at something.”

Barrett sighed and rose to his feet, crossing the bar to where the girl stood, wiping the bangs and sweat from her eyes. Her breath came in short gasps and she put her hands on her knees to brace herself. Barrett shook his head, smiling now. “You run all the way here, Jessie?”

She smiled up at him sheepishly. “Biggs said it was important.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” He paused at the door, glancing back at Zack and Tifa. “Tifa, looking after him, will ya?”

Tifa nodded and Barrett strode from the room, tailed by Jess. The door slammed closed with a ‘bang’ behind them and Tifa sighed, shaking her head. “One of these days, he’s going to break that door.”

Zack made a small noise of agreement, spinning on his stool to face Tifa with a cold stare. “I know your remember me, Tifa Lockhart.”

Tifa turned to face him, face a mask of indifference, an illusion only broken by one hand slowly clenching into a fist. “I thought you were dead, Zack Fair.”

Zack shrugged. “I thought so, too.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, why didn’t you tell Barrett you knew me?”

She sighed, looking suddenly tired. “You wouldn’t understand. And Barrett wouldn’t understand. I don’t talk about Nibelheim anymore.”

Zack cocked his head, puzzled and curious, but still accusing. “Why not?”

Tifa glared at his, crossing her arms. “I just don’t. End of story.”

Zack scowled in protest but let the issue slide. “Fine. Then answer something else for me.”

“What?”

Zack sighed, letting the anger drain away. “How long?”

Tifa shook her head, uncomprehending. Zack sighed again. “Since Nibelheim.”

Wine-colored eyes widened then dimmed, as the bar-owner dropped her head, staring hard at the polished counter. “Five years,” she whispered softly.

Zack recoiled, eyes wide. “F-five years?”

Tifa nodded, still refusing to raise her eyes. Zack buried his head in his arms, fighting off a thousand emotions. Five years. That would make him twenty-three. And Cloud twenty-one. And Aerith twenty-two. Strange. A blink of an eye and they were all grown up. He bit his lip, unsure if he should laugh at the irony or cry for keeping Aerith waiting for five years. She probably thought he was dead.

Oh, Aerith, I’m sorry.

“Zack?” Tifa sounded worried. “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t sure how to reply, so kept quiet, merely raising his head and shrugging, conveying all his uncertainty in the simple motion. Tifa swallowed nervously and idly traced a pattern on the counter with her fingertips, looking for a way to ask the next question. “Zack … is Cloud…?” She trailed off, unable to face the possibilities.

She looked young, then, and so incredibly vulnerable, longing to hope, yet afraid. He dredged up a reassuring smile and soothed one of her fears. “He’s alive.”

Her eyes lit up with the first real spark of life he’d seen. “Really?”

He hated to dampen her joy, but he owed her the truth. “He’s not the same, Tifa. He doesn’t remember anything but his name.”

The spark flickered and died, making guilt hound Zack’s heart. He hated being the bearer of bad news. But the look of utter defeat didn’t last long. Determination crept in, upstaging the sorrow and soon her eyes glowed with it. “I want to see him.”

Zack blanched, uncertain. “I… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Tifa glowered at him. “Why not?”

Zack fumbled for an answer that would make sense to her. How could he explain that Cloud was better of not remembering the pain of his past—the rejection of his own village, the rough years in Shinra, the torment of a dark laboratory? She wouldn’t understand.

She saw his hesitation and pounced on it. “Please, Zack. I need to see him. He’s all that’s left.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but realized he couldn’t keep Cloud from her. It simply wasn’t his place. As painful as the reunion may be, the right to it belonged to them alone.

“Fine,” he mumbled in defeat. “I’ll bring him over.”

Tifa smirked. “Good.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

A tired sigh echoed off the bland walls of the apartment before fading into obscurity. He blinked at the mirror on the wall on his bathroom. Old eyes stared at him from a tired face. His hair stuck to his forehead, and too pale skin glistened with sweat, making the white shirt stick to it in various places. Lowering his head, unable to look at the strange reflection any longer, the man gripped the edges of the sink and took a few deep breaths, fighting off the pain coursing through his body.

It’s getting worse…

Sucking more air into his weary lungs, he turned his gaze to the source of his discomfort. Dark blotches marred the skin along his left arm, from wrist to shoulder. Touching one tenderly, he hissed at the shock of pain that came from the simple motion.

He had thought when the spots first appeared near his wrist they were bruises and thought nothing of it. Everyone got bruises now and then. But the infection had spread, taking over his whole arm and now creeping onto his neck and he knew it was far more than mere bruising.

He was sick.

Turning his head to the side, he grimly examined the black blemishes on the side of his neck. It was almost to his chin. And the pain was getting worse every day. He knew he should feel some sort of fear or alarm, but the only thought that drifted in his mind was, I can’t hide it anymore.

For he had told no one of this strange illness, not even those closest to him. It didn’t matter. He had seen on the streets of Midgar, Junon, and Wutai and knew the result.

They would find out in a few months … when he was dead.

With a harsh sigh of resignation, he rolled down his sleeve and yanked on his suit jacket, shrugging into a comfortable position on his shoulders and ignoring the sharp pricks of pain running through his veins. He wiped sweat and strands of hair from his forehead, trying to look presentable.

Then, he forced himself to look into the mirror and face the mocking image. Staring hard at it, he shoved the pain from his eyes and expression. He was dying, but he couldn’t let it matter. Weakness was never an option in this harsh world.

When his features were once again impassive, he turned away and slipped from the apartment, the bang of the slamming door bouncing down the hallway behind him.

Subject: Re: Road to Sunrise by Shtuff Tue Jun 24, 2008 1:18 pm

So longggggggggggg! I must read! emberassed

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