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ladybug_archiveIncorporating the events of sentences #4, #41, #47, and #49. This is post-S&M. This is also rather weird, morbid, and the second funeral blurb I've done recently, though it's not for the same character.
The sirens were wailing loudly, penetrating through to his weary consciousness. It also sounded as though people were screaming, both in horror and in pain. What was wrong? The scent of smoke and gasoline was so strong in the air. . . .
He struggled to open his eyes. The view was partially blocked by both the hair falling in his face and by the crimson trails running down from his forehead. Further sensations were returning, and it was obvious almost immediately that his head was throbbing, especially near his right temple. He must have struck it on the inside of the door. . . .
Now he remembered, vaguely . . . he and Cloud had been returning to the manor when another car had crashed headlong into theirs. It seemed that their vehicle had spun at least a couple of times before slamming into the railing. That must have been when he had lost consciousness. . . .
He recalled something else, too---red . . . red splattering on the opposite car window, and on the back of the driver's seat. . . . And a painful scream. . . .
A hand flew to his head as he tried to slowly turn and look. Moving was definitely not a good idea, but it was not as though he could simply remain slumped there and not do anything. It did not sound as though anyone was near the limousine. And judging by the strong smell of gasoline, it was possible that it was their tank that was leaking, and the car could go up in flames at any moment. They had to get out of here.
His eyes narrowed as they focused on Cloud's body. The blond was laying limp against the seat, his head and neck falling back against the top of it. Blood trailed over his face, and in the shadows, it almost looked as though it was entirely coating the left side. More crimson was on his arms and chest, and broken glass was scattered all around him.
Shakily a hand reached out, gripping at Cloud's right shoulder. He had to determine how to speak, to form words, to call Cloud's name. He was not receiving any response from his actions. Cloud was lifeless. Was he . . . dead? His mind was in too much of a muddle to think. He would have to check later. The most important thing now was to be able to get out of the car with the other.
He shifted again, extending his left hand to try to pull up the manual car lock. Again and again it slipped out of his grasp, his blood-coated hands making it nearly impossible to get a firm grasp. Was it even locked anyway? The door almost looked jammed. . . .
He frowned, seizing the door handle and jiggling it back and forth. Nothing. But the breeze from outside was coming through, and not just from the broken window on Cloud's side.
Undoing his seatbelt, he turned to fully face the door. Maybe he could kick it open. . . . He raised his right foot, slamming it into the object. It groaned, weakening. Encouraged, he slid further back on the seat until his back was nearly touching Cloud's shoulder. Then he struck out again, with both feet. The door cried out, tearing free with a sickening scraping sound as it hit the railing.
He leaned forward, studying what there was of a view. Under the railing was a small hill, and down at the bottom, grass and wildflowers. It would not be too bad of a tumble. And by the looks of Cloud's damaged door, there was no way it could be pried apart. This was the only way out.
He looked back to Cloud. Still no movement. Slowly he put his hand behind the slackened neck, taking his limb slowly down the spine. It did not appear to be broken. But Cloud could still end up hurt worse during the tumble. His form would have to be held very carefully.
. . . Though, he could not feel any hint of breath as he leaned over to undo the seatbelt. Nor did the chest seem to be rising and falling.
Such thoughts would have to be pushed away for now. Gently he brought his left arm around Cloud's shoulders, placing the other behind his knees as the silent ragdoll was eased onto his lap. Certainly not the most desirable situation. If Cloud was conscious, he would be tensing all over and trying to pull away. But he was going to have to deal with it.
Cradling the form close and protectively, the man turned back to the opening, his green eyes once again studying the amount of space as well as the distance. The car's front end was practically smashed against the railing; all he needed to do was to dive out just right and he and Cloud would end up descending to the bottom of the hill.
And agility was certainly not a problem for him---at least, not under normal circumstances. Right now, his head was still pounding, dizziness was threatening to pull him under, and every part of his body seemed to be aching.
The eyes narrowed. He was a warrior; he knew how to ignore the pain. And there was no time to be hesitating.
In the next instant, he propelled himself and Cloud forward, into the momentary nothingness of hovering in the air. They flew out through the door, under the railing, and then suddenly the hill was there, guiding them as they tumbled over and over through the blades and weeds.
At last he hit the grassy bottom on his back, Cloud's form laying motionless against him. There had not been a single moan during the trip, which was a matter of concern. Now, even with their current position and his half-unbuttoned shirt, he still could not catch any hint of breath at all.
Blearily he stared up into the smoke-covered, orange-tinted sky. It was nighttime, and very late, so the hue was not from the sun. It was fire . . . either from their own car or one of the others. Now the vague crackling was apparent, mixed in with the screams. Were there people trapped in burning vehicles? That would be a ghastly fate. . . .
There had probably been people in some of the houses he had torched in Nibelheim, unable to get out. . . . They would have been left to burn alive, their agonized cries renting the night. . . .
This was not a time to think on the past. It was the present that was important.
His lips parted, the inner struggle to speak resuming. "Cloud . . ."
Nothing.
Somehow, the knowledge was clear---Cloud was dead.
****
It was a surreal experience, to stare down into the wooden box and see Cloud laying there.
The wounds were cleaned, the blood removed from his skin and hair. Never having been a suit person, he was dressed the way he had felt the most comfortable, in a sleeveless sweater shirt and dark pants. His eyes were closed, and really, he looked asleep.
Sephiroth looked away again, the frustration building. Zack had been mostly silent, and now he was standing on the other side of the casket, the vexation of the formal tie forgotten. He was staring down, his eyes hidden, but it was not necessary to see them in order to know what was within them.
At some point after the tumble, Sephiroth had lost consciousness on the grass. He and Cloud had later been found by paramedics, and he had came to in a hospital bed, Zack worriedly leaning over him. . . .
Staring up into his friend's face, the memories began to return---the accident, the blood, the fall. . . . Cloud was dead. He had known it then, and in Zack's eyes, he could see that it was true now.
It was still hard for him to speak. His body was so weakened, and his mind was in such a muddle. But he tried.
"Zack . . . I'm sorry. . . ."
Zack smiled sadly, laying his hand on the cool shoulder. "I know, Seph," he answered.
"I . . . I tried to save him. . . ."
"Hey, it's not your fault." Zack gripped his hand. "He . . . he probably died instantly in the collision. But I . . . I'm glad that you made it out." He tried to grin, but failed. "You just got a concussion and some cuts and scratches. Guess you've got a hard head."
He smirked weakly in reply, but the pain was obvious in his friend's expression. It was too much. He had let Zack down again.
Did the rest of Cloud's friends believe that Sephiroth was at fault? It was hard to say; none of them had really spoke to him in the past couple of days. Zack and Aerith both had, and had repeatedly told him that it was not his fault, that he had done everything he could, but it seemed to him that he could feel looks of accusation from some of the others.
Maybe he was only imagining, but Tifa seemed especially cold to him. Did she think he had let Cloud die? Or did she just blame him because of the company, even though he and Cloud co-owned it now and Cloud was not just his assistant?
They had co-owned it. Cloud was dead now.
Zack and Tifa had both delivered eulogies. In some way, Sephiroth wondered if he needed to say something, considering the company. But that was not really a good idea. Zack would probably encourage him if he brought it up, so he stayed silent. The rest of AVALANCHE would not want him to speak, and anyway, what right would he have, since he and Cloud had been mortal enemies?
He smirked grimly to himself. It was so easy to picture Cloud staring, aghast and disbelieving, if Sephiroth decided to speak. That alone would almost make it worth it, but no . . . he did not feel like teasing the dead today.
. . . What would he even say? Would he talk about the long nights spent working on important projects, of Cloud's good business skills, of how he had sometimes flown off the handle and how their arguments had become commonplace to the secretary?
Heh . . . some of those memories were actually not so unpleasant. But they were past now. It was time to move on.
Though it would not be easy. He did not know how Zack was going to manage. He had been so depressed and sad, though he had tried desperately to not show it, since he knew that Sephiroth still felt guilty.
"Will you miss him, Seph?"
Sephiroth frowned in surprise, glancing over to where Zack was wrestling with the tie. Sephiroth himself had just given up on the blasted things and was wearing a suit jacket with no shirt, much to Zack's mock dismay.
"Is there a reason why I should?" he said now.
Zack smiled ruefully as he shook his head, the raven spikes flying with the motion. "Guess not . . . but I just wondered. You worked with him so long . . . and . . . you seemed like you were getting along okay with him."
"We had a truce. It was mostly for you."
Zack draped his arm around the other's shoulders. "Yeah . . . I know. It meant a lot to me." He continued to smile in that sad way. "But sometimes you acted like you didn't mind his company . . . that maybe you even liked it. He was kinda the same way after a while . . . not that you or he could ever admit it."
Abruptly he changed the subject. "And Seph, what am I going to do with you?" he bemoaned as he pulled back. "You can't even wear a shirt to a funeral?"
"This is good enough," Sephiroth grunted.
It almost hurt worse to hear Zack trying to be cheerful, since he knew that his poor friend was anything but cheery right then.
Would he miss Cloud? It was hard to say. Maybe . . .
The thought remained unfinished.
It was time that they needed to close the casket. Everyone had gone up, paying their last respects. Sephiroth had hung back till the last, and now he was staring down at the body, with nothing to really think or say. If Cloud had attended his own funeral, what was he thinking right now? Did he like how it had gone? Was he trying to get people to notice him, in vain? It was easy to picture him standing behind Tifa or Zack, or even himself, Sephiroth, and yelling that he was right there.
What strange, morbid thoughts he was having. Was that a tinge of regret? He had not wanted Cloud to die.
He looked up uncomfortably. Zack was coming back over now, intending to shut the lid. Every step he took clearly displayed his dread and sorrow over the situation. This was not something he wanted to do. He was not even certain that he could do it. When he reached the coffin, all he could do was simply to stare blankly at his friend's form.
It was something Sephiroth could barely stand to see. I'm sorry, Zack.
He glanced back down at the corpse. I'm sorry, Cloud. . . .
Zack took a deep breath, reaching for the lid.
Sephiroth took hold of it as well. Tifa was standing nearby, watching with pained eyes.
Wait a minute.
. . . Wait? Why? He frowned. Neither Tifa or Zack wanted to see the casket close, but it had to be done. And the longer they extended the time, the more difficult it was going to be.
Yet the prompting, the impulse, the whatever-it-was, was very insistent. Wait a minute.
He frowned more, relaxing his grip on the lid.
The blue eyes snapped open.
. . . What . . . was this?! A hallucination? No . . . Zack was sharply drawing in his breath. He saw it too.
It must just be a reflex. Dead bodies did that sometimes. . . .
. . . Dead bodies did not groan. Nor did they raise their hands to their heads, wincing, and then sit up.
The shock and the strain was too much. Poor Tifa collapsed, as Barret and Aerith rushed to catch her.
It was Zack who finally found his voice first. "What the . . . Cloud, what the heck are you doing?!" he cried, his lavender eyes wide, his body trembling. This was not real. This could not be real. . . . He could not believe it.
Cloud winced again, gingerly taking his hand away from the wound. "Coming back, I guess," he mumbled.
And Zack was diving for him, glomping him, laughing and crying and yelling unintelligibly.
Sephiroth could only stand there and stare, his thoughts racing, his mind reeling. Cloud was not dead. He was very much alive, looking slightly disgruntled about being glomped without warning, but then warming to the occasion and smiling a bit as he hugged back. Tifa was coming around, and upon seeing that the sight was not a fantasy, she was shakily getting up and coming over as well.
As were the rest of AVALANCHE.
An old enemy was out of place here. He stepped aside.
His expression softened as he watched Zack. His friend was joyous as he moved back to let the others get to Cloud. Barret was cursing as he demanded to know what was happening and how this was happening, and Cloud could only shrug helplessly before the kids were launching themselves at him, hugging him close and tugging on his hands, wanting him to get out of the coffin.
Cloud looked slightly amused. "I can't get out, until you guys move back to give me some room," he said. They quickly did, and with Zack's assistance, Cloud pushed himself further up near the edge, swinging his legs over the side as he began to climb out. He stumbled, his legs weak, and Tifa hastened to help him stand.
"How?" she whispered, her voice catching. She was holding onto him desperately, not wanting to let go---as if she was afraid that if she did, this reality would vanish and Cloud would be laying dead again.
"They said it wasn't my time," he answered slowly, seeming to still be getting used to speaking again. "They said I could come back."
"Well, they sure picked a heck of a time to send you!" Zack exclaimed.
Cloud smirked weakly at him. Then he blinked suddenly, as if remembering something.
He looked up, his gaze drifting over everyone present until he saw Sephiroth standing awkwardly to the side, looking as though he felt that he did not belong. Cloud ran his tongue over his lips.
"Sephiroth . . ."
The green-eyed man blinked, looking over in surprise. Cloud was addressing him? Why? Was he irritated that Sephiroth was there? No . . . from his expression, he did not look upset. He almost looked . . . accepting? Grateful?
"I . . . I know you were trying to save me. . . . Thanks."
It was hard for him to say it. That was obvious from the way he hesitated so long. And everyone else was staring at him in shock and surprise . . . well, except for Zack and Aerith.
No one could have been more astonished than Sephiroth. Cloud had . . . thanked him? Even with their truce, he had never really expressed appreciation for anything Sephiroth had done. He had still acted annoyed and frustrated with the other, in general, which had finally given way to a sort of resigned acknowledgment. But these words were sincere, albeit difficult.
Sephiroth could only nod slowly in reply.
The sirens were wailing loudly, penetrating through to his weary consciousness. It also sounded as though people were screaming, both in horror and in pain. What was wrong? The scent of smoke and gasoline was so strong in the air. . . .
He struggled to open his eyes. The view was partially blocked by both the hair falling in his face and by the crimson trails running down from his forehead. Further sensations were returning, and it was obvious almost immediately that his head was throbbing, especially near his right temple. He must have struck it on the inside of the door. . . .
Now he remembered, vaguely . . . he and Cloud had been returning to the manor when another car had crashed headlong into theirs. It seemed that their vehicle had spun at least a couple of times before slamming into the railing. That must have been when he had lost consciousness. . . .
He recalled something else, too---red . . . red splattering on the opposite car window, and on the back of the driver's seat. . . . And a painful scream. . . .
A hand flew to his head as he tried to slowly turn and look. Moving was definitely not a good idea, but it was not as though he could simply remain slumped there and not do anything. It did not sound as though anyone was near the limousine. And judging by the strong smell of gasoline, it was possible that it was their tank that was leaking, and the car could go up in flames at any moment. They had to get out of here.
His eyes narrowed as they focused on Cloud's body. The blond was laying limp against the seat, his head and neck falling back against the top of it. Blood trailed over his face, and in the shadows, it almost looked as though it was entirely coating the left side. More crimson was on his arms and chest, and broken glass was scattered all around him.
Shakily a hand reached out, gripping at Cloud's right shoulder. He had to determine how to speak, to form words, to call Cloud's name. He was not receiving any response from his actions. Cloud was lifeless. Was he . . . dead? His mind was in too much of a muddle to think. He would have to check later. The most important thing now was to be able to get out of the car with the other.
He shifted again, extending his left hand to try to pull up the manual car lock. Again and again it slipped out of his grasp, his blood-coated hands making it nearly impossible to get a firm grasp. Was it even locked anyway? The door almost looked jammed. . . .
He frowned, seizing the door handle and jiggling it back and forth. Nothing. But the breeze from outside was coming through, and not just from the broken window on Cloud's side.
Undoing his seatbelt, he turned to fully face the door. Maybe he could kick it open. . . . He raised his right foot, slamming it into the object. It groaned, weakening. Encouraged, he slid further back on the seat until his back was nearly touching Cloud's shoulder. Then he struck out again, with both feet. The door cried out, tearing free with a sickening scraping sound as it hit the railing.
He leaned forward, studying what there was of a view. Under the railing was a small hill, and down at the bottom, grass and wildflowers. It would not be too bad of a tumble. And by the looks of Cloud's damaged door, there was no way it could be pried apart. This was the only way out.
He looked back to Cloud. Still no movement. Slowly he put his hand behind the slackened neck, taking his limb slowly down the spine. It did not appear to be broken. But Cloud could still end up hurt worse during the tumble. His form would have to be held very carefully.
. . . Though, he could not feel any hint of breath as he leaned over to undo the seatbelt. Nor did the chest seem to be rising and falling.
Such thoughts would have to be pushed away for now. Gently he brought his left arm around Cloud's shoulders, placing the other behind his knees as the silent ragdoll was eased onto his lap. Certainly not the most desirable situation. If Cloud was conscious, he would be tensing all over and trying to pull away. But he was going to have to deal with it.
Cradling the form close and protectively, the man turned back to the opening, his green eyes once again studying the amount of space as well as the distance. The car's front end was practically smashed against the railing; all he needed to do was to dive out just right and he and Cloud would end up descending to the bottom of the hill.
And agility was certainly not a problem for him---at least, not under normal circumstances. Right now, his head was still pounding, dizziness was threatening to pull him under, and every part of his body seemed to be aching.
The eyes narrowed. He was a warrior; he knew how to ignore the pain. And there was no time to be hesitating.
In the next instant, he propelled himself and Cloud forward, into the momentary nothingness of hovering in the air. They flew out through the door, under the railing, and then suddenly the hill was there, guiding them as they tumbled over and over through the blades and weeds.
At last he hit the grassy bottom on his back, Cloud's form laying motionless against him. There had not been a single moan during the trip, which was a matter of concern. Now, even with their current position and his half-unbuttoned shirt, he still could not catch any hint of breath at all.
Blearily he stared up into the smoke-covered, orange-tinted sky. It was nighttime, and very late, so the hue was not from the sun. It was fire . . . either from their own car or one of the others. Now the vague crackling was apparent, mixed in with the screams. Were there people trapped in burning vehicles? That would be a ghastly fate. . . .
There had probably been people in some of the houses he had torched in Nibelheim, unable to get out. . . . They would have been left to burn alive, their agonized cries renting the night. . . .
This was not a time to think on the past. It was the present that was important.
His lips parted, the inner struggle to speak resuming. "Cloud . . ."
Nothing.
Somehow, the knowledge was clear---Cloud was dead.
****
It was a surreal experience, to stare down into the wooden box and see Cloud laying there.
The wounds were cleaned, the blood removed from his skin and hair. Never having been a suit person, he was dressed the way he had felt the most comfortable, in a sleeveless sweater shirt and dark pants. His eyes were closed, and really, he looked asleep.
Sephiroth looked away again, the frustration building. Zack had been mostly silent, and now he was standing on the other side of the casket, the vexation of the formal tie forgotten. He was staring down, his eyes hidden, but it was not necessary to see them in order to know what was within them.
At some point after the tumble, Sephiroth had lost consciousness on the grass. He and Cloud had later been found by paramedics, and he had came to in a hospital bed, Zack worriedly leaning over him. . . .
Staring up into his friend's face, the memories began to return---the accident, the blood, the fall. . . . Cloud was dead. He had known it then, and in Zack's eyes, he could see that it was true now.
It was still hard for him to speak. His body was so weakened, and his mind was in such a muddle. But he tried.
"Zack . . . I'm sorry. . . ."
Zack smiled sadly, laying his hand on the cool shoulder. "I know, Seph," he answered.
"I . . . I tried to save him. . . ."
"Hey, it's not your fault." Zack gripped his hand. "He . . . he probably died instantly in the collision. But I . . . I'm glad that you made it out." He tried to grin, but failed. "You just got a concussion and some cuts and scratches. Guess you've got a hard head."
He smirked weakly in reply, but the pain was obvious in his friend's expression. It was too much. He had let Zack down again.
Did the rest of Cloud's friends believe that Sephiroth was at fault? It was hard to say; none of them had really spoke to him in the past couple of days. Zack and Aerith both had, and had repeatedly told him that it was not his fault, that he had done everything he could, but it seemed to him that he could feel looks of accusation from some of the others.
Maybe he was only imagining, but Tifa seemed especially cold to him. Did she think he had let Cloud die? Or did she just blame him because of the company, even though he and Cloud co-owned it now and Cloud was not just his assistant?
They had co-owned it. Cloud was dead now.
Zack and Tifa had both delivered eulogies. In some way, Sephiroth wondered if he needed to say something, considering the company. But that was not really a good idea. Zack would probably encourage him if he brought it up, so he stayed silent. The rest of AVALANCHE would not want him to speak, and anyway, what right would he have, since he and Cloud had been mortal enemies?
He smirked grimly to himself. It was so easy to picture Cloud staring, aghast and disbelieving, if Sephiroth decided to speak. That alone would almost make it worth it, but no . . . he did not feel like teasing the dead today.
. . . What would he even say? Would he talk about the long nights spent working on important projects, of Cloud's good business skills, of how he had sometimes flown off the handle and how their arguments had become commonplace to the secretary?
Heh . . . some of those memories were actually not so unpleasant. But they were past now. It was time to move on.
Though it would not be easy. He did not know how Zack was going to manage. He had been so depressed and sad, though he had tried desperately to not show it, since he knew that Sephiroth still felt guilty.
"Will you miss him, Seph?"
Sephiroth frowned in surprise, glancing over to where Zack was wrestling with the tie. Sephiroth himself had just given up on the blasted things and was wearing a suit jacket with no shirt, much to Zack's mock dismay.
"Is there a reason why I should?" he said now.
Zack smiled ruefully as he shook his head, the raven spikes flying with the motion. "Guess not . . . but I just wondered. You worked with him so long . . . and . . . you seemed like you were getting along okay with him."
"We had a truce. It was mostly for you."
Zack draped his arm around the other's shoulders. "Yeah . . . I know. It meant a lot to me." He continued to smile in that sad way. "But sometimes you acted like you didn't mind his company . . . that maybe you even liked it. He was kinda the same way after a while . . . not that you or he could ever admit it."
Abruptly he changed the subject. "And Seph, what am I going to do with you?" he bemoaned as he pulled back. "You can't even wear a shirt to a funeral?"
"This is good enough," Sephiroth grunted.
It almost hurt worse to hear Zack trying to be cheerful, since he knew that his poor friend was anything but cheery right then.
Would he miss Cloud? It was hard to say. Maybe . . .
The thought remained unfinished.
It was time that they needed to close the casket. Everyone had gone up, paying their last respects. Sephiroth had hung back till the last, and now he was staring down at the body, with nothing to really think or say. If Cloud had attended his own funeral, what was he thinking right now? Did he like how it had gone? Was he trying to get people to notice him, in vain? It was easy to picture him standing behind Tifa or Zack, or even himself, Sephiroth, and yelling that he was right there.
What strange, morbid thoughts he was having. Was that a tinge of regret? He had not wanted Cloud to die.
He looked up uncomfortably. Zack was coming back over now, intending to shut the lid. Every step he took clearly displayed his dread and sorrow over the situation. This was not something he wanted to do. He was not even certain that he could do it. When he reached the coffin, all he could do was simply to stare blankly at his friend's form.
It was something Sephiroth could barely stand to see. I'm sorry, Zack.
He glanced back down at the corpse. I'm sorry, Cloud. . . .
Zack took a deep breath, reaching for the lid.
Sephiroth took hold of it as well. Tifa was standing nearby, watching with pained eyes.
Wait a minute.
. . . Wait? Why? He frowned. Neither Tifa or Zack wanted to see the casket close, but it had to be done. And the longer they extended the time, the more difficult it was going to be.
Yet the prompting, the impulse, the whatever-it-was, was very insistent. Wait a minute.
He frowned more, relaxing his grip on the lid.
The blue eyes snapped open.
. . . What . . . was this?! A hallucination? No . . . Zack was sharply drawing in his breath. He saw it too.
It must just be a reflex. Dead bodies did that sometimes. . . .
. . . Dead bodies did not groan. Nor did they raise their hands to their heads, wincing, and then sit up.
The shock and the strain was too much. Poor Tifa collapsed, as Barret and Aerith rushed to catch her.
It was Zack who finally found his voice first. "What the . . . Cloud, what the heck are you doing?!" he cried, his lavender eyes wide, his body trembling. This was not real. This could not be real. . . . He could not believe it.
Cloud winced again, gingerly taking his hand away from the wound. "Coming back, I guess," he mumbled.
And Zack was diving for him, glomping him, laughing and crying and yelling unintelligibly.
Sephiroth could only stand there and stare, his thoughts racing, his mind reeling. Cloud was not dead. He was very much alive, looking slightly disgruntled about being glomped without warning, but then warming to the occasion and smiling a bit as he hugged back. Tifa was coming around, and upon seeing that the sight was not a fantasy, she was shakily getting up and coming over as well.
As were the rest of AVALANCHE.
An old enemy was out of place here. He stepped aside.
His expression softened as he watched Zack. His friend was joyous as he moved back to let the others get to Cloud. Barret was cursing as he demanded to know what was happening and how this was happening, and Cloud could only shrug helplessly before the kids were launching themselves at him, hugging him close and tugging on his hands, wanting him to get out of the coffin.
Cloud looked slightly amused. "I can't get out, until you guys move back to give me some room," he said. They quickly did, and with Zack's assistance, Cloud pushed himself further up near the edge, swinging his legs over the side as he began to climb out. He stumbled, his legs weak, and Tifa hastened to help him stand.
"How?" she whispered, her voice catching. She was holding onto him desperately, not wanting to let go---as if she was afraid that if she did, this reality would vanish and Cloud would be laying dead again.
"They said it wasn't my time," he answered slowly, seeming to still be getting used to speaking again. "They said I could come back."
"Well, they sure picked a heck of a time to send you!" Zack exclaimed.
Cloud smirked weakly at him. Then he blinked suddenly, as if remembering something.
He looked up, his gaze drifting over everyone present until he saw Sephiroth standing awkwardly to the side, looking as though he felt that he did not belong. Cloud ran his tongue over his lips.
"Sephiroth . . ."
The green-eyed man blinked, looking over in surprise. Cloud was addressing him? Why? Was he irritated that Sephiroth was there? No . . . from his expression, he did not look upset. He almost looked . . . accepting? Grateful?
"I . . . I know you were trying to save me. . . . Thanks."
It was hard for him to say it. That was obvious from the way he hesitated so long. And everyone else was staring at him in shock and surprise . . . well, except for Zack and Aerith.
No one could have been more astonished than Sephiroth. Cloud had . . . thanked him? Even with their truce, he had never really expressed appreciation for anything Sephiroth had done. He had still acted annoyed and frustrated with the other, in general, which had finally given way to a sort of resigned acknowledgment. But these words were sincere, albeit difficult.
Sephiroth could only nod slowly in reply.
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Date: 2007-06-11 03:13 am (UTC)Anyway, really interesting blurb; much like the Sephiroth funeral blurb...it's just like, 'Hmm, what WOULD happen if Cloud died?' And aww, poor Tifa! ;_;
...You know, I just randomly remembered, the first Advent Children drabbles I posted in my LJ you commented and you were like, "I am intrigued by this Cloud character!" I dunno, I find that kinda funny considering here you are, writing for Seph as well as if you were Nomura himself or something!
Anyway, I'm rambling. XD See you around!
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Date: 2007-06-11 07:21 am (UTC)I wondered if having Tifa collapse was a bit much, but considering everything, I thought maybe it would work. XD
LOL. I think I remember that. X3 I'm really glad you think I have such a handle on Seph's character! Sometimes I'm unsure of how he would react to things if he were sane again. And I wonder if sometimes I make him too much like his KH counterpart, though I still try to write for them differently.
The interesting thing about Cloud is, he's about the only main protoganist in a fandom that I actively am obsessed with and write about. **has been meaning to muse on this in an entry sometime.** XD Mostly I'm fairly indifferent to the main character, or else I like him/her, but don't know how to write for them or I don't have ideas. With Cloud, it seems like there's always something.
Frodo is another main character I really really like, but sadly, I never have been able to have ideas on writing for him. XD; I always feel like I'm doing it wrong when I've tried.And now I'm rambling! XD
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Date: 2007-06-11 04:07 pm (UTC)I think the thing about Seph is... We have very little to go on for sane Sephiroth, and you took what little canon there is and made a whole well-rounded character out of it. That's pretty awesome. :D
I know what you mean about Cloud! It's been a while since I've been so utterly in love with the main characters, and I can write for them as well. Cloud's just got so many layers to his character... I mean, you could have two writers writing him slightly differently and it would still work, you know? Anyway. He's a fun character for a writer. XP
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Date: 2007-06-12 02:15 am (UTC)X3 That's one of my favorite things to do. I get really attached to characters like that, I guess because I almost feel like they're a little bit mine, after picking them apart so much.
And yet, somehow, knowing that they're official characters makes it even cooler.Yes, Cloud is definitely fascinating! I connect with him on some level, too. I can't relate to his angsty problems, but as I was telling 1wngdngl, one of the main reasons I love him is because he isn't the traditional hero type and he's weak.