Chapter Text
"You rang?" An odd thing to say, perhaps, given their situation, but he hardly knew how to start given the abruptness of the summons. Yet, this was how it always happened—when it happened at all. One moment his memories were part of the lifestream—always fluctuating and mixing with every other consciousness that had ever walked the planet—and the next he was being peeled away, separated, and drawn back together. Until his consciousness was whole, even if his body was a mere figment of his imagination. But he was able to conjure it anyway—what it'd felt like to be human, to have flesh and bone and muscles to move.
She turned toward him then, materializing out of the foggy green and white emptiness. He doubted she needed to do so—to replicate the human body she'd once possessed. But perhaps she did it for him. So there'd be some kind of relatable familiarity when they met one another.
"I did ring," she replied, sparing him a small, knowing smile as she clasped her hands behind her back.
"Trouble in paradise again?" he asked. "The world once again coming to an end? Or does a certain someone just need a bit of a pep talk?" A statement that, while sounding light, broke his heart despite the fact that he'd been without a heart for some time.
She laughed quietly, her smile only remaining a bit longer before it faded into something more serious. Which probably wasn't a good sign.
"The world isn't ending… is it?" he asked.
"No, it's not. Not immediately, anyway."
He crossed his imaginary arms over his chest. "Ominous."
She managed another small laugh. "It's the planet," she started after a few seconds of silence. "So many memories from so many people, they're beginning to sink in. Into the collective consciousness."
"The… collective?"
"The consciousness of the planet," she continued. "Slowly, over time, the older and older memories of those who have passed—their souls, I suppose you could reason—begin to meld more and more deeply with the lifestream. It's a natural process, one that allows the planet to reflect, so as to take action as needed. All living things are recycled this way, their wisdom becoming part of the planet before that churning, stirred lifestream is used to create new life."
"Right, so… that's where I am. Normally. Except when you pull me back out, like this." But it was becoming harder and harder every time. Somehow, he knew this truth. Soon, he'd become so much a part of the lifestream that any remnants of his life as Zack Fair would be but pieces in a larger vat.
Which… he was okay with, if only because he had no other choice. That was life, right? Or the afterlife, in any case. He was looking forward to it, being reborn. Maybe parts of him would be trees, or birds. Maybe he could spend the rest of eternity in the skies.
And maybe he'd finally be able to forget. Forget the horrible agony that echoed through everything that he was every time he remembered what he'd left behind.
"Yes. But soon I won't be able to pull you back," she admitted. "The planet, it keeps my consciousness whole, but I'm still but a small fragment of something much larger."
"Why does it keep you?" Zack asked. "Keep you whole, I mean? Are all the Cetra kept like that?"
She shook her head. "Meteor, Jenova, the fear all life felt as a result, it still rings raw in the consciousness of the planet. And while the planet itself does not feel as we do, it reflects and reacts. Humans threatened to strangle the planet, but they're also the ones who cut away the rotting, infected piece that allowed the planet to start healing. And despite all the planet's efforts to return the world to nothing and start over, humans thwarted that too. Sephiroth—the infection—was defeated. Twice, his scourge was held back, though it still lurks. And all the WEAPONS the planet sent forth were destroyed, proving just how weak the planet's defenses were.
"Ever adapting, the planet has been attempting to create new defenses. Which is why it… retains me, here. I am a human soul, a Cetra that can commune with the planet, and as humans were threats as well as saviors, the planet recognizes that perhaps a new defense must be utilized."
"Because what it had before wasn't good enough."
She nodded, her gaze falling to the side as she turned somewhat away from him. "It tried to flush out the threat after meteor was stopped. But even that couldn't stop the reunion. The planet couldn't get rid of the infected hosts fast enough, nor could it stop the constant flow of Jenova cells that now line the lifestream like a pervading cancer. Now in remission, but liable to reawaken at any moment."
"Great…"
"The healing water flushes the cells from their hosts, but it doesn't get rid of them. They sink into the ground, into every living thing, and are once again recycled into the lifestream anew. It is becoming… an unbeatable foe."
"Did you bring me here to tell me we're all doomed? Because I really could have gone the rest of existence not knowing that."
Her expression softened, which was somewhat reassuring. "The cells are a disability, not necessarily an inevitability. But even so, twice now has a reunion tried to take place, and twice has the planet's attempts to stop it failed. It was only the intervention of humanity that saved us.
"This is not a fact the planet is blind to. These realities flow in the new souls that enter the lifestream, their knowledge affecting how the planet adapts to this changing environment."
"So…" Zack took a huffing breath. "What's all this got to do with me?"
"There is one. One that the planet watches. One that has proven strength in the face of the infection, even as he himself is infected. Much like the planet itself, yet he continues to beat back this sickness. He has become the planet's new weapon." She didn't sound entirely thrilled at the idea, but accepting nonetheless. "Organic weapons of mass destruction weren't enough, yet the feeble will of one man made all the difference. It is a strange kind of strength in comparison to the direct methods the planet has previously used, but the planet is an organism that is wholly intent on survival. If this human can do what other methods could not, then it must be more powerful and therefore the strength needed to fight this infection. Or so the reasoning of the planet might be personified."
"That's… a lot of pressure for one person," Zack said, his voice turning somewhat dark. Defensive, perhaps.
"Yes. I agree." She released a shaky breath. "But I cannot control that which the planet views as logical, though I may offer… guidance, in my own small way."
"Guidance?"
"It was a human that has led the charge against this infection, but humans are still small. Susceptible to weakness if not supported properly." She laughed bitterly. "The planet views this as maintenance. If this new weapon is 'malfunctioning,' then all must be done to right this issue so that it will be in prime condition should the need for defenses arise."
"This all sounds so… inhumane."
"The planet is not concerned with humanity, as I said. It cares only for survival. You cannot reason with it—it is not that sort of organism. It feels, learns, and reacts."
"Okay…"
She finally looked back up at him. "The planet senses the great sadness that exists in its new 'weapon' of choice. Loss, grief. Confusion. The planet doesn't wholly recognize the finite details of such things, but it does recognize these things as negatively affecting the performance of its weapon. It senses that its new weapon is broken—without 'wholeness,' perhaps—and is willing to do whatever it can to rectify these ailments."
"I don't think it's really that simple."
"No, but that is beside the point."
"What happens now, then?"
"The planet wants the wounds on this weapon to heal. Which is why you're here now."
"Me?"
"I didn't bring you here, though I have momentarily intercepted you."
"Oh…" Not exactly a pleasant thought.
"The planet recognizes your loss as something deeply significant. After all, it is the planet that dictates how souls are split and reunited. So it has… decided to return you."
Zack gaped. "R—Return me? Like—Like—"
"Yes. It goes against natural law, but I suppose if it is the planet that decides natural law and flow, then it can choose to break those rules should it deem doing so necessary."
Suddenly, she was standing directly in front of him, her hand coming up to rest gently on his chest. Her touch was cold, but soothing. "You won't remember this conversation, but I doubt you'll need such a memory to find your way."
"I know the way," he said firmly.
She smiled.
"I know you do."
oOo
9 Years Ago
Cloud was not the least bit surprised to find himself alone despite the fact that soldiers were to remain in tight formation when confronted with any sort of threat. For one, the attack had been so sudden that a good chunk of his squad had been obliterated in seconds. This had, naturally, led to a great deal of chaos, fear, and panic. Cloud himself had been so shocked at the sight of the broken, bleeding, and fading bodies that he'd nearly been ripped apart as well, stunned still on the ground where he'd been knocked aside by the swiping tail of a giant dragon. The breath had been knocked out of him as he'd slammed into the cave wall, momentarily seeing stars as he'd collapsed to the ground. Thankfully, he'd managed to get himself together enough to stand before any more damage could be done.
For some moments, he'd stood his ground, his rifle shaking in his hands as he'd stared up the back of the giant, sparkling purple dragon. They hadn't been warned about coming across dragons in the Mythril Mines. Dragons like this one definitely hadn't been on the list. But there one was, chomping away at a soldier that had dared try and fight back.
As far as Cloud could see, no one else in his squad had stuck around. Or they were dead. Which meant that soon the dragon would be turning on him and he'd be done for.
Which brought him back to the current moment, that he was alone and running deeper into the mines in an attempt to escape the dragon. And hopefully not get lost.
The second reason he was likely alone was because, well, nobody much liked him, so even if some of his squad had survived, they probably wouldn't have bothered risking their own skins to save him.
This was a long-standing problem of Cloud's—not being liked.
When he'd left his hometown of Nibelheim, he'd vowed things would be different. He'd be a different person with a different outlook and a different sort of social life. After all, he was going clear across the world to join the Shinra military and eventually SOLDIER. It was a commendable endeavor, one that would take him into a world with people just like himself—those driven by goals of heroism and courage.
Or so he'd thought. But, as it'd turned out, people in Midgar weren't all that different from those in Nibelheim. He didn't fit in any better with them than he had the bullies back home. If he wasn't made fun of because of his stature, then it was his strange shyness, or the way he loitered awkwardly in the backs of rooms, or how he was just so excited to join SOLDIER.
He'd quickly, and in a publicly painful way, learned that his dreams of becoming a SOLDIER were just as laughed at in Midgar as they had been back in Nibelheim. As was his somewhat awkward countenance and poor social skills.
In fact, it hadn't been until he'd gotten to Midgar that he'd started to realize there was something… off about him in comparison to the other boys around him. He'd thought it was just the jerks in Nibelheim that hadn't understood him, but apparently the rest of the world thought he was a bit weird as well.
Which, of course, led him quickly down the same path he'd followed back home—one of defensive insults and a flaring temper that had already gotten him into one too many fistfights and made him plenty of enemies.
And absolutely no friends. Another let down, really. He hadn't had any friends back home, even if his neighbor—Tifa—had been nice enough to him when her other jerk friends hadn't been around. He'd been certain when he came to Midgar that he'd finally be among his own type of people and that making friends would finally be a reality. But that too had fallen through, leaving him bitter and frustrated. Both with the people around him and himself.
The point was, nobody was going to try and save him from a dragon, even if they'd been alive enough to do so. Though a lot of his learning curve had transpired during boot camp, his first assignment in Infantry Squad 53 hadn't gone much better. They hadn't been thrilled with a new recruit coming into their squad, and been even less thrilled when he'd turned out to be a sixteen-year-old runt with a bad attitude.
Cloud hadn't even bothered trying to discuss his SOLDIER dreams with them—they'd have just laughed at him, like everyone else had (Tifa and his mom being the only exceptions).
So he kept running through the mines. He tripped a few times in the dark, the light of his helmet the only thing igniting the path in front of him. He kept a death-grip on his rifle and hoped that no other huge monsters would appear to tear him apart.
His squad and four others had been sent into the Mythril Caves south of Midgar for a standard first mission. Just to scout the mines so they could put in their records that they had mission experience. Which was why most of the members in the squads that had been sent were low-ranked infantrymen. It wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission. All they'd been meant to do was scout the area and maybe kill a few monsters if they showed up. Monsters far weaker than dragons, in any case.
Breathing hard and doing his best not to shake out of his skin, Cloud eventually slowed to a walk, the flashlight on his helmet flicking back and forth as he shuffled his way deeper and deeper into the caves. Logically, running deeper into the caves had been a very, very bad idea. But given the situation, he wasn't sure what else he'd been meant to do. The way back had been blocked by a giant, chomping dragon, so options had been limited.
But he couldn't just keep wandering aimlessly through the mines, either. He'd definitely get lost—if he wasn't already—starve to death, and die. Probably a more painful death than he might have had at the claws of the dragon.
Pausing, he swallowed hard and turned back the way he'd come. It appeared wholly dark, but he swore he could still hear gunshots and dragon growls in the distance.
Should he have stayed to fight the dragon? Was he a deserter for running?
He was definitely a coward, there was no arguing that, which only frustrated him further. How could he possibly hope to become part of SOLDIER if he was caught running away on the first mission he'd ever been sent on? He wasn't exactly setting a good precedence.
Taking a few seconds to steady his breathing, Cloud closed his eyes and pushed back on the flight instinct that had sent him dashing into the caves in the first place. Cradling his rifle in the crook of his elbow, he gripped his right forearm and thought of the words he knew were etched into his skin underneath his uniform.
"Watch out, Spike, or you'll end up in a mess of trouble."
As far as soulmarks went, his was quite long. Generally, the first sentence a person ever heard their soulmate say was a little shorter or more ambiguous. In his loneliest days, his soulmark eased his isolation, reminding him that someone was, in fact, out there waiting for him. And that his someone was so special that their first words to him would be an introduction of noteworthy significance. Not just "nice to meet you" or some other bland statement heard every day on the street. His soulmark meant something, even if the context was a mystery.
Which was why he took comfort from it in times of fear or uncertainty. His soulmate was looking out for him from the beginning, keeping him out of trouble without even being there. Whenever he was unsure, those words carried him through. Be careful, watch out, or you'll end up in a "mess of trouble."
But it was also that known sentiment that inspired him to get into trouble. One, because his soulmate could only warn him against trouble if he was actually getting into trouble, but also because a small part of him was annoyed his soulmate dared tell him what to do. It was a contradictory set of feelings some of the time, but familiar nonetheless. He didn't want his soulmate to think he was afraid of trouble, or to think he needed to be taken care of. If trouble was an inevitable place he was supposed be, then he wanted to be found there with courage and strength.
Which meant he couldn't be the type of person that ran away when others stayed to fight.
Huffing, Cloud pinched his arm where he knew the text was etched into his skin, before snapping his eyes back open and shoving his fear down into his boots. Grappling with his rifle, he stared back the way he'd come with a forced air of determination, before he started to march back down the choppy corridor.
Time moved both slowly and a great deal too fast. He hadn't really made it that far from the confrontation, but the rapid pace of his beating heart made the walk back feel a lot slower than it was. But by the time he was able to peek back out into the open cavern where the dragon was, he was certain it should have taken him a lot longer to get there.
The open cavern was naturally lit, unlike many of the tunnels branching out around it. High, high above—some fifty stories or so—a hole to the outside allowed natural light to cascade in and ignite the chalky blue mythril stone. It also shimmered across the purple scales of the dragon as it lashed out, another squad of infantrymen having surrounded it. They were showering it with bullets, but little good was really being accomplished. The bullets bounced off the dragon's scales like tiny stones, while men ran and ducked as it reached its great head out to grind them to pieces.
Some got out of the way, others didn't.
Cloud was once again gripped by fear, his hands clattering around his rifle as he stared down at the continuing rampage. The dragon was snapping out. It took hold of an infantryman that was too slow before chomping down. Gargled screams echoed through the gunshots and shouting, before the lifeless body was tossed aside. It crashed into a nearby wall, falling to the ground like a limp doll.
Cloud stared at it, momentarily unable to take his eyes away. It was only the stone-rattling roar of the dragon that snapped his attention back, anxiety once again tightening inside his chest.
No. He was part of Shinra's army and a future member of SOLDIER. He couldn't allow his fear to control him. He had to be strong. Brave. Like Sephiroth.
That was the only path that would make him a hero.
Aware of the heavy weight of his rifle in his hands, Cloud looked quickly around for any opportunity to make himself useful. The path he'd scrambled into when he'd run away sat on a slight incline. And to the left, a thin ledge graduated around the wall, sitting just slightly higher than the dragon was tall.
Nodding away his indecision, Cloud quickly jogged over to the ledge, preparing his rifle as he did. Creeping along the edge, he moved until he was standing almost directly above the dragon. Though his heart beat nervously in his ears, he crouched down on one knee and took aim through the sight of his rifle. It was shaking a bit—due to his own trembling—and so he growled, shook his head, and pushed away his nerves.
Staring into the sight, he followed the dragon's swinging head as best he could. If he could just get a shot in through its eye when it turned his way, or into its mouth, then perhaps he could end this. His higher vantage point gave him a different perspective, after all. Sometimes, that was all one needed to solve the problem, or so his mother had always said.
Deep breaths.
Focus.
Aim…
Cloud pulled the trigger at the same time the dragon's great body swung around to the right, it's giant, heavy tail slamming into the base of the ledge he'd crept across. His shot missed, while the rocks beneath him began to shake. Within seconds, they were crumbling away, Cloud having only the time to stand before everything was falling out from underneath him.
He tried to reach out for the wall, but there was nothing to grab. Like the broken rocks, he tumbled down the cliff-side. Thankfully, the fall wasn't far. He landed hard, plunging forward and rolling over harsh stones before finally coming to a stop. His head bashed into a large boulder as he did, knocking his helmet off and sending it bouncing down beneath the dragon's stomping feet.
Because, very suddenly, he was no longer safe above the dragon, but dangerously close to its huge body and sharply taloned claws. He was at the base of the wall the dragon had been cornered against, his attempts to scramble backward doing absolutely no good in getting him to safety. The dragon was so close that one more swing of its body would see him crushed against the wall, or stomped to death, ripped apart by a passing claw.
But there was nowhere to go. To his left, the wall of the cave was too high to scale (at least as far as his skillset), and to the right, the dragon was taking up any available space. If he wasn't crushed or stomped, he's soon be shot by the incoming bullets of his own comrades, as he was now in the direct line of fire. In fact, it was the dragon itself that was protecting him, but that was hardly going to last much longer.
He was done for.
Just as he was closing his eyes against his inevitable death, something—or someone, rather—grabbed him by the back of his uniform and chokingly hauled him off to the side. He stumbled, barely able to keep his feet as he was just narrowly yanked out of range of the dragon's tail. The grip on the back of his collar dragged him up over a bounder or two, before dropping him into a rather unceremonious pile just out of range of the action.
Ignoring any pain or injuries he'd thus far procured, Cloud craned his neck around just in time to watch the man that had only just saved him from a brutal, bloody death.
Dark black pants, matching, sleeveless sweater, brown harness and brown leather boots. A huge sword—a sword so heavy and cumbersome that no man of normal strength could lift it, let alone hope to use it—was sitting casually on his shoulder.
He had thorny black hair that was slicked back in the front, aside from one loose strand hanging down in the front. Young face, a dashing smile as he looked back over his shoulder at Cloud, and those trademark mako eyes.
SOLDIER, First Class.
Zack Fair.
Cloud knew exactly who he was. He'd studied all the first class soldiers, learning all their names and stories. Sephiroth was the best of the best, obviously, but the other firsts weren't anything to scoff at. Sure, Zack Fair was young and hadn't served in the war with Wutai, but that didn't make him any less extraordinary.
Zack was the youngest of the first class SOLDIERS. At sixteen, he'd joined the military, before passing the SOLDIER entrance exams that very same year—the first to ever do so aside from Sephiroth, who'd practically been drafted into SOLDIER. At seventeen, Zack had been promoted from third to second class, as he'd obviously out-shown all his colleagues. And just a few months ago—at only nineteen—he'd made first. He was the youngest first of the total eight that existed, had been personally mentored by the legendary first class general, Angeal Hewley, and many were whispering that he had the kind of momentum and potential that Sephiroth had.
He was, in essence, everything Cloud dreamed of becoming.
Despite the danger, Cloud was star-struck, able to do little more than gape at the tall, muscled, intimidating first class still offering him that cocky, dazzling smile.
"Watch out, Spike," he said a moment later, "or you'll end up in a mess of trouble." Winking, he mock-saluted to the yet stunned Cloud, before turning on his heel and jumping down to face the dragon head on.
He had no idea that in one second, he'd saved Cloud's life, before opening his mouth and shattering it in the next.