Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zack catches Cloud just before he hits the ground. Cloud is having a seizure.

"I got you, buddy, I got you..."

Cloud's greasy hair presses against his cheek and Zack smells blood, sweat, and mako. He kneels and gently lowers Cloud to the floor, careful to cradle Cloud's head in his lap so it doesn't hit the concrete. He runs his thumb over Cloud's cheek, wiping away tears. "It's okay, I got you."

Cloud's muscles spasm, locking and unlocking over and over. His back arches, his limbs contort, and his jaw clenches so hard that Zack hears his teeth grind together.

"Hey, hey. It's alright buddy, it's gonna be alright."

Cloud's skin shimmers with cold sweat and his eyes roll toward the back of his skull. His hands are locked into claws, his fingernails scraping the floor, himself, Zack...but Zack doesn't notice. The red lines Cloud leaves on Zack's skin heal as soon as they form.

"Cloud, c'mon buddy, you're fine, you're fine."

Harsh, choking gasps fill the air and cut Zack's heart in two.

"C'mon, Spike, breathe. Breathe, yeah, that's it, breathe."

Cloud draws in a shuddering, ragged breath. His eyes roll forward, pupils just pinpricks in a sea of mako. His spasms fade into shudders, then shivers. Zack brushes the hair from Cloud's face.

"You're alright, buddy, it's okay, it's over now, it's over..."

Cloud rolls to his side and throws up mako.

If only it were over.

There's a series of crude tallies etched into the wall above his bed.

Zack doesn't like looking at them much.

There are over a hundred of them.

And, if Zack hadn't stopped making them long ago, there would be hundreds more.

Each tally is a reminder of another day that Zack has failed to get them free.

He doesn't like that reminder.

So he stopped making tallies.

But there are other ways to measure the passage of time. The scientists' and guards' clothes carry scents of the seasons with them. October's dry scent of fallen leaves gives way to the metallic scent of snow, which later blooms into the delicate fragrance of spring. Zack doesn't want to believe half a year has passed and tries to tell himself that it could just be perfume, but in a thoughtless, cruel, misguided attempt at kindness, the weak-willed scientist with dead eyes and alcohol-tinged breath confirms it is spring by bringing wildflowers to Cloud and Zack's cell.

It's painful to look at the flowers.

It's more painful to throw them away.

Zack tucks them under his cot.

They remind him of someone.

It's a relief when their bright blooms wither and fade to dried husks. They're frozen in time now, just like he is.

The halting of time is just an illusion. The year continues and the seasons change. The bright smell of summer grass comes in on the soles of shoes, and eventually fades back to October's dry scent of fallen leaves.

That makes a year.

A piece of Zack dies.

It's the piece responsible for hope.

Hatred is a new emotion for Zack. He's felt anger, resentment, frustration, and disapproval, but hatred, pure and raw, is new.

Zack hates Hojo.

He.

Hates .

Him.

And, one day...

...he's going to kill him.

He imagines what it will be like, ripping Hojo's head from his shoulders. What it will be like to feel his bones crack, flesh tear, and blood drip under his fingers. He wants to do it fast so the monster is gone. He wants to do it slow so the monster knows a fraction of his pain. He wants to leave his body in an unmarked grave and let the world forget him. He wants to skewer it on a pike and leave it as a warning for the world to see. He wants to let him rot in a cell, to drown him in mako, to pin him to an operating table and tear off his limbs, one by one.

He wants Hojo to suffer.

He never wants it more than when Hojo works on Cloud.

Cloud can't scream. He and Zack are always silenced to maintain the quiet work environment the Professor desires. Zack hates it, the feeling of his vocal cords being severed from his throat, the air noiselessly leaving his lungs, being unable to make noise to drown out the sound of a scalpel scraping against the inside of his ribs or a hand pushing his intestines aside.

It's a curse, not a blessing, to not hear Cloud's screams. In their absence, Zack hears Cloud's pained breathing, the terrified beating of his heart, the creak of restraints as he tears against them. He hears his flesh being sliced, the squelching of his organs, and the snick of needle piercing his skin. He can hear Hojo muttering to himself, talking about Cloud like he's no more than a slab of meat beneath his hands.

"Hmm, the cells have not yet responded to the last treatment. I must up the dosage…"

"Agh, another day, another disappointment. I don't know why I continue to bother with this o-…oh. Oh! How intriguing. You surprise me, TS-3."

"Where is his bone marrow sample? He's struggling too much? Keep trying. He'll learn to keep still unless he wants more holes in him."

As Zack listens, he wills the cuffs digging into his skin to shatter. He dreams of springing to his feet, seizing the scalpel from Hojo's hands, and jamming it so far through his throat that it pierces through the back of his neck.

But he can't. He's helpless.

He's never felt less like a hero, pinned beneath blinding, fluorescent lights unable to do more than blink while he and Cloud are torn apart again and again and again and again.

There's too much time to think while Zack waits for Hojo to turn his attention toward him. Hours of waiting has led Zack to believe that, maybe, deep down, he thinks he knows that it's his fault that he and Cloud are trapped here.

On a subconscious level, he's pretty sure that if he weren't busy hating Hojo, he might hate himself.

If only he had been strong enough to defeat Sephiroth.

If only he had been faster.

If only he had been smarter.

If only…

...if only...

Zack can't afford to think like that.

So he keeps himself busy hating Hojo.

There's a strange presence in the lab today.

Zack can't identify what it is, or even if it's real and not imagined, but before he can dwell on it, he overhears a scientist grumble that Hojo should have given them the day off if he was just going to do everything himself.

Zack blinks. He realizes the scientist is right. Rather than barking out orders to others while he observes, Hojo is handling all of the set-up himself today.

That's unusual.

Something is different about today.

Zack glances out of the corner of his eye to see if Hojo notices his dissatisfied employee. He doesn't. Hojo is entirely focused on the drip bag cradled in his arms. Zack twists his head as far as the metal band keeping it in place allows to see what has Hojo so transfixed.

The drip bag isn't full of anything Zack has grown accustomed to seeing, like glowing mako, muddy, gray liquid, or even the clear toxin that has been slowly pumped into Zack's veins over the past hour. Hojo is looking rapturously at a bag containing something that is purple-black, slick like oil. It takes Zack a second longer to realize that the liquid isn't being agitated by Hojo.

It's moving on its own.

As Hojo walks closer, a deep-seated feeling of dread washes over Zack as the strange presence he felt earlier grows stronger. It feels...familiar, somehow. Zack shrinks away as far as his restraints allow as the presence draws nearer. It seems to radiate from the bag in Hojo's arms.

Unnatural. Vile. Wrong.

Hojo switches Zack's emptied drip bag for the one full of the churning, tar-like liquid and reaches to replace the tube connecting Zack's IV port.

Zack suddenly appreciates that Hojo is going to inject that into his body.

There's a special kind of fear that comes from being pinned to a table while someone is about to inject an unknown substance into your body. It seizes Zack right then.

Zack yanks against the cuffs binding him to the table as hard as he can. He thrashes and kicks, arching his back and flexes his arms. Hojo glances down at him, amused. Zack bares his teeth and snarls. Hojo laughs and plucks the old tube from the IV port nested in the crook of Zack's arm and inserts the new tube. Zack tears against the restraints. They don't move. He tries again. The skin on his wrists and ankles tear, but he doesn't notice.

He does not want that thing in his body.

Hojo slowly, ceremoniously, opens the valve. The dark liquid moves sluggishly down the tube, closer to Zack's veins...

No.

Closer…

Don't.

Closer…

Agony.

Zack's body contorts. Putrid, utter wrongness spreads up his arm, through his chest, down his abdomen, into his legs. It travels through the taut cords of his neck, through his face, behind his eyes. It invades Zack's body with surprising eagerness, leaving behind an oil-slick trail of rot in his veins. In an inexplicable way, it feels intelligent. It feels alive.

Zack feels as though mold is spreading across the surface of his brain. Its spores settle dust-like against his consciousness, building up like snow until a blanket of it separates Zack from the world outside of his body. The lab suddenly seems far away, the actions of the scientists muffled. The spores send mycelia down into his mind.

They hit a wall.

The foreign substance turns hostile. It throws itself against the wall, shrieking and howling, sending thorny spikes of white-hot pain through Zack in order to break through. Zack writhes, teeth grinding, unable to breathe. The soft, snow-like spores have turned into a blizzard of broken glass, pelting Zack's psyche, threatening to tear him to shreds. Zack clenches his fists and weathers the storm.

There's no telling how long he lies there sheltering from the onslaught, but eventually the blizzard relents. Zack's mind feels raw as if dragged against sandpaper...but he's still here. He's still Zack.

Someone shines a light in his eyes.

Bright.

Too bright.

Yet, like the sun melting snow, the light pushes away the remnants of spores coating his brain. The world comes back into focus, details regaining shape and color, sound fading back in like volume being turned up on a radio. Zack becomes aware of someone removing the needle from his arm and tightening the electric cuff around his ankle.

Zack squeezes his eyes shut and groans. He feels as though he's been hit by a truck. Someone tells him to get up. He tries to sit. He can't. His limbs are heavy, his joints inflamed. Every movement is unbearable. He's shoved off the operating table. His knees buckle as he clumsily hits the floor. He picks himself up. Someone pushes him toward the cell. He stumbles forward. Someone falls into line in front of him. He does a double take. It's Cloud.

It's not that Cloud looks different. It's that he looks fine.

With Zack struggling to stand, he expected Cloud would have to be carried back to the cell. But there he is, standing on his own two feet and walking effortlessly from the lab, although there's a strange, dreamlike quality to his movements as if he were sleepwalking.

They're nearly out of the lab when Cloud stops and spins, eyes wide.

"Cloud?" Zack asks.

"…did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard… Never mind. I'm just tired."

Zack gets the sense that there is more Cloud isn't telling him, but he's in too much pain to press Cloud then. Before he turns to shuffle towards his cell, he can't help but notice the delight on Hojo's face as he watches them go.

Cloud carries shame like a lead cloak. It weighs him down, pulling at his shoulders and making his spine curl. He can barely stand to look Zack in the eye after seizures and retreats to his corner of the cell when the mako makes him sick. He lies on his cot and turns his back when a procedure leaves him shaking and weak while Zack is fine. He never asks the question out loud, but Zack can see it painted clearly on his face.

Why am I so weak...?

Zack wants to shake him, to smother him with affirmations until Cloud knows that he is one of the strongest people he knows. He wants Cloud to understand that, if it weren't for him, Zack wouldn't have lasted as long as he has in the lab. But Cloud won't listen to him, spurning Zack's words as empty praise in a hollow attempt at building him up. How can Cloud accept what Zack says, when the second half of that unspoken question also lingers in Cloud's eyes?

Why am I so weak when Zack is so strong?

Again, Zack wants to shake Cloud and make him understand that Zack is no one worth looking up to. He's not the hero he dreamed of becoming, not even close.

So Zack knows intimately well that he can't just ask Cloud to let go of his shame.

It's something that doesn't come off.

"Think Aerith's forgotten me?"

Cloud snorts. "If she talks about you as much as you talk about her? Not likely."

"Ha, ha." Zack flicks the chip of paint he picked off the cell wall at Cloud. Cloud smacks it out of the air and flicks his own paint chip back.

"What are you making?"

Cloud sits back and considers the pattern he's been chipping into the wall. "Uh… maybe a tree?"

It looks nothing like a tree, but Zack is too tactful to say so.

"Nice. I'm going for the Buster Sword. I miss that thing."

Cloud twists around to peer over at Zack's design. His expression says everything Zack needs to know about what he thinks of Zack's art.

"I'm still working on it!" Zack says defensively, trying hard to not stare at the mako that had started bleeding out of Cloud's irises to stain the whites of his eyes. It was eerie to look at.

"Hmm, well don't stop soon." Cloud goes back to chipping away at his tree. Zack looks at the remaining wall they have before they run out of paint to chip. It's not a lot. What they'll do to keep entertained after the paint is gone, he's not sure, but they'll have to think of something. Boredom is eating them alive.

Although boredom in the cell is preferable to what waits outside it.

"...so then you think Aerith talks about me?" Zack asks.

Cloud shrugs. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I didn't know her. She could have moved on with her life for all I know."

"...ouch." Zack says to break the silence, but he means it. Cloud's words hurt, only because they echo what's already on Zack's mind.

"...I'm sorry."

Zack picks at more paint and sighs. "Ah, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"...I bet she does think about you." Cloud says after a moment's pause. "You're kind of hard to forget."

"Oh, shucks, now you're just trying to make me blush."

"Who said I meant it as a compliment?" Cloud asks, but he's smiling. They go back to chipping away at the paint. Zack's really is starting to look like the Buster Sword, no matter what Cloud thinks.

"I think she would like you." Zack says. "I can't believe I never introduced you."

"We all knew you liked your time alone with her."

"You guys were making fun of me."

"Only a little. Barracks would've gotten boring otherwise."

Zack flicks another piece of paint at Cloud. This time Cloud is too slow to block it and it gets stuck in his hair. He frowns and goes to pull it free.

"I'll introduce you when we get back to Midgar." Zack says. The air sours as it always does when Zack talks about the future as if they might one day escape. Zack presses on before Cloud can ruminate on it. "I'll take us to the best restaurant on the Plate. I'll get a great table outside overlooking the city. Somewhere where we'll have a nice view of the sunset. I don't think she's ever seen a sunset, you know that? She says all she can remember is living under the plate."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I thought you said she's scared of the sky."

"Oh. I told you that?"

"You've told me everything."

"You're exaggerating."

"Not as much as you do. How big did you say that dual horn was, again?"

"A tank! I'm not exaggerating!"

"If you say so." Cloud says wryly, turning back to his wall art. "But why bring her to the Plate if she's scared of the sky?"

"To see the sunset! Once she sees something like that, the sky won't scare her anymore. I know it."

"Just make sure you stop talking long enough for her to enjoy it."

"Oh, hah hah." Zack flicks another paint chip toward Cloud. Cloud flicks a paint chip back. "Know that you're invited too. You and Tifa."

"Huh?"

"If I'm bringing Aerith, you gotta bring someone too. You'd be a third wheel otherwise."

"Who?"

Zack laughs. "No need to be coy, Spike. It's pretty obvious you're into her. Between you and me, I think she has something special for you too. I bet she'd love to go to dinner with us."

"I don't know who you're talking about."

Zack laughs again, but unease creeps over him. "Uh, dark hair, bright eyes, cute face? Gave us a tour of...well…" Zack trips over the word 'Nibelheim.' Cloud doesn't seem to notice, too busy giving Zack a confused look.

"I don't know a Tifa."

"Oh come on. You told me you grew up together."

Cloud's brow furrows even more. "Grew up together? You're thinking of someone else. I don't know anyone named Ti-…"

"...Cloud?"

Cloud's eyes had lost focus, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

"Cloud, what's wrong?"

"I…" Cloud's voice breaks. He clears his throat, but the tension in his voice lingers. "I don't remember where I'm from."

A ball of lead slides into Zack's stomach. "What?" he asks as if he didn't hear Cloud, but he heard him perfectly. He just wishes he hadn't.

"I don't remember where I'm from." Cloud repeats. His voice is full of disbelief. "I…I don't remember."

Cloud's hands start to shake. Zack reaches for them on instinct, but Cloud pulls them away to wrap them around himself.

"I have to know where I'm from." he says, squeezing his sides. "We talked about it before. I remember talking about it before. But I don't remember what it's called, where it is, who was there…"

Zack doesn't know what to do. He wants to help, but how? Keeping his voice as even as possible, he asks, "Do you...do you want me to tell you about it?"

Cloud shakes his head. His face is pale. "No, I want...I need to remember. ...there was someone named Tifa?"

Zack nods.

"And I knew her?"

Zack nods again.

Cloud uncurls his arms from his waist and slumps forward to bury his head in his hands. "I don't remember her. I don't remember anything."

"...if it makes you feel better, I can't blame you for blocking it out from what you've told me." Zack says bleakly.

"How can I forget where I'm from?" Cloud's voice trembles as he struggles to hide the fear in it. "It's blank. It's all blank. There's nothing there. It's like I didn't exist before Shinra."

Zack doesn't know what to say. There's nothing he can say. So he slings his arm around Cloud's shoulders and pulls him close. He wishes he had the right words to comfort him. He wishes he could do more.

They sit like that for a long while, Cloud tucked under Zack's arm, taking deep breaths to steady himself as he searches his memory. Zack rests his chin on Cloud's head, gently moving his hand up and down Cloud's arm to comfort him and, if he's honest, to comfort himself too. Zack's mind is racing, trying to justify why Cloud is having a lapse in memory.

He might have hit his head during his last seizure. Maybe Zack struck him too hard during their last sparring session. Maybe Hojo did something.

...maybe Cloud's mind is breaking.

Zack stomps down on that last thought hard. No. No way.

Cloud is fine. He's just fine.

Zack forgets things too, he reasons.

(Not like forgetting things as important as where you're from.)

Zack has days where he has a hard time recalling certain memories.

(Not like being unable to recall the names of childhood friends.)

Zack squeezes his eyes shut and pulls Cloud closer against him. Cloud is going to be fine. He's going to be just fine.

"Tell me where I am from." Cloud finally asks, voice muffled against Zack's shoulder.

"Nibelheim."

"Nibelheim." Cloud echoes. He tests the syllables on his tongue. "Nibleheim…"

He lifts his head. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"It...it was in the mountains."

"Yeah!" Zack is thrilled Cloud is able to recall something, however small. See? he tells himself. Cloud is fine.

"It was a small town. There was a water tower in the middle."

Zack's relief grows. "Exactly."

"There...there was a reactor there...and...and..."

Zack realizes he should redirect Cloud the instant before Cloud goes white.

"The fire." Cloud chokes.

Zack's stomach plummets.

A low, grief-stricken moan crawling from Cloud's throat. He buries his head in his hands, his fingernails digging into his scalp. Zack's heart splits in two and the relief he'd tenuously grown evaporates into despair.

Cloud isn't fine.

Zack holds Cloud close against his chest once more as Cloud is overwhelmed by the memories that would have been better left forgotten.

In between procedures, Hojo lets them loose in a gym to spar.

Zack knows it's to collect combat data, but he can't help but feel the closest thing to happiness he's felt since waking up in Hojo's care. If he ignores the locked door and electric cuff around his ankle, things almost feel normal. Even the line of scientists stationed in the monitoring room above don't feel out of place since they were present at Shinra HQ. Still, Zack prefers not to look at them.

He keeps his attention on Cloud instead, teaching him swordsmanship, practicing the basics of footwork, blocking, and striking. The swords given to them are shit (what he wouldn't give to hold the Buster Sword again), but they still bring Zack comfort when their grips fit comfortably against the calluses of Zack's palms. Cloud is a quick study and natural at swordsmanship, although that isn't enough to make up for the sharp contrast in their abilities, with Zack being mako enhanced and Cloud barely staving off mako poisoning…

...at least at first.

Cloud is good at fighting now.

Unbelievably good.

He's as fast and strong as Zack and performs any move Zack teaches him with such finesse that Zack feels as though he has nothing left to offer him. Zack knows the mako treatments are responsible for Cloud's increased speed and strength, but feels a small glow of pride knowing that he's passed his techniques on to Cloud. (He hopes Angeal would be proud.)

But there are moments when Zack catches Cloud off guard and Cloud responds with a parry or hit that Zack knows he didn't teach him. There's only one other swordsman Zack's seen use those strategies, and he died by Cloud's own hand. Zack wants to think Cloud's ability to mimic Sephiroth's skill is due to Cloud watching him train at any given opportunity, or perhaps due to Cloud spending his youth obsessively learning everything he could about the War Hero of the Wutai War...but Zack knows it's more than that. He's heard the scientists talk of S-cells, and he knows enough from Project-G that genetic material can be transferred.

Could combat reflexes be transferred too? Memories? ...madness?

Zack doesn't want to think about it.

So he doesn't.

He needs to keep his entire focus on Cloud while they spar now anyway. After Cloud manages to catch Zack off guard and knock him onto his back, Zack no longer holds anything back. They lock blades as equals and, more often than not, Zack walks away breathing harder than Cloud.

Cloud's enhanced speed and strength have him wondering if they might stand a better chance at escaping if the opportunity arises.

Maybe.

But Cloud's memory fails him again.

He forgets what the Buster Sword is.

Zack thinks he's joking.

They were just talking about it.

Zack should have known better.

They just talked about it yesterday.

Zack shouldn't have questioned him.

Cloud has to know.

Zack should have let it go.

But he doesn't, and Cloud gets defensive, becoming angry at Zack for accusing him of forgetting.

And Zack wants to think that, maybe he's right.

Maybe he imagined talking with Cloud about the Buster Sword.

Maybe he's the forgetful one.

But he knows he's not.

Zack can't move his arms.

He has to be pushed off the operating table, and when he is, his arms swing like dead pieces of wood at his side. He looks down at them. They're swollen and ugly, mottled with purples, blues, and yellows. Coarse thread holds his skin together where they sliced into it to get at the tendons and ligaments in the crook of his elbow. He tries to flex his fingers. He can't.

"Get a move on." a guard's gruff voice makes Zack look up from his useless hands. The guard is standing next to Cloud, ready to shepherd him back to the cell. Cloud's expression is vacant. The guard scowls. "Come on, get."

Cloud tilts his head as though listening, but it seems as though not to the guard. Zack twists around to look at the stretch of wall Cloud's empty eyes are locked onto, but there's nothing there.

The guard snaps his fingers in front of Cloud's face. "Wake up, kid. I don't have all day."

Cloud whispers something, so faint that Zack struggles to make sense of his words despite his sensitive hearing. After a moment, Zack realizes that he can hear Cloud just fine. He can't understand him because Cloud isn't speaking any language he's ever heard before. A chill goes up Zack's spine. Cloud nods as though agreeing to question only he can hear.

Zack senses unease from the guard as well as his hand twitches for the remote on his belt that will send a bolt of electricity through Cloud and Zack's ankle cuffs. Zack instinctively tenses, waiting for the jolt.

There's no need. Hojo stops the guard with a wave of his hand. His eyes are locked on Cloud with fierce curiosity.

Cloud searches the room, the mako flowing from his eyes casting unnatural shadows across his face. He slowly twists his head, turning this way and that, his movements oddly stilted and smooth at the same time as if he's forgotten how to use his body. His unfocused expression hardens, eyes narrowing. Zack turns to see what object drew Cloud's attention. It's a shelf holding vials of the same brackish, purple-black substance Hojo has been pumping into their veins. Cloud takes a step toward the vials. Behind him, Hojo's lips twist into glee.

Zack is unnerved. "Cloud?"

Cloud stumbles mid-step, his vague, detached expression tethering itself to reality once more. He presses his fingers against his temple and shakes his head. Confusion clouds his features.

"What …where…?"

Cloud's eyes dart over the scientist, lab tech, and mako tanks. His expression of confusion contorts into fear, his movements panicked and abrupt. He backs up blindly, body trembling.

"Zack, where…?"

Discarded surgical tools clatter against steel as Cloud's back collides with the operating table. He spins, then recoils when he sees the remnants of blood on steel, nearly hitting a guard who steps out of the way at the last second. Cloud's chest begins to heave. He looks down at his arms that are as swollen and bruised as Zack's are. He runs his stiff, trembling fingers over the stitches lining his arm as if to confirm they're real and part of his body. Eyes wide, he searches the room once more. "Zack?!"

His eyes land on Hojo. Cloud freezes. Zack can see the exact moment when Cloud's memories come rushing back to him with a sharp intake of breath, pupils shrinking, jaw clenching, shoulders tensing. Remembrance turns into devastation so tangible that Zack feels it too.

Adept in recognizing the most painful of human emotions, Zack knows Hojo also senses Cloud's devastation, although the oily smile overtaking his face indicates he's deriving perverse pleasure from it.

"Are you feeling alright, TS-3?" Hojo purrs.

"'m fine." Cloud mumbles, curling in on himself. He shifts toward Zack, no doubt feeling Hojo's predatory eyes on him and hoping to escape to the cell before he can pounce.

Hojo steps between him and Zack. "Excellent. So then you wouldn't mind explaining to me what happened?"

"I…I blacked out, I think."

"Who did you hear?"

"I didn't hear anyone."

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Zack. I got…confused."

"Before then."

"I wasn't talking."

Hojo frowns, dissatisfied with Cloud's answer. "Take TS-2 back to the cell. TS-3 stays here. We're going to have a nice, little chat."

Zack knows better than to fight Hojo's will by now, having learned from experience that it will only cause him and Cloud more pain. Yet he lingers long enough to cast one last look at Cloud, willing to give Cloud his strength. Cloud's eyes, wide and terrified, hold his own until Zack is pushed away.

The cell door clangs shut behind Zack and Cloud begins screaming shortly after, left unsilenced as to answer Hojo's interrogation. Zack stands by the door, sick. The throbbing in his arms does little to distract him from the suffering unfolding just out of sight. Over the following hours, Zack's arms repair themselves until he's able to move them again. He clenches his fists until his nails dig into his palm.

The dead-eyed scientist, the one that always reeks of alcohol, stumbles to the wall opposite Zack's cell and sinks to the floor looking utterly defeated. This one always did seem to have a weak stomach, the spineless coward.

"What is Hojo doing to him?" Zack asks, not bothering to pull his eyes from the direction of Cloud's screams.

"You don't want to know." the scientist mutters, curling into a ball, head in palms, elbows on knees.

"Yeah. I do."

"No, you don't."

A cold fire of fury ignites in Zack. He glares down at the scientist, unable to keep his hate off his face.

"Yeah. I do." he snarls. "I want to know so I can pay him back when I get out of here."

The scientist eyes him bleakly…and tells him.

To get Cloud to admit who he was talking to, Hojo has resorted to torture. Cloud will be coming back to Zack with missing fingernails, burns, and hundreds of cuts over his body. When Hojo realized that Cloud was telling the truth that he couldn't remember who he was speaking to, he shoved a hallucinogen down Cloud's throat in an attempt to trigger a similar reaction.

"The effects of the hallucinogen should wear off in the next half an hour." the scientist adds dully.

A half hour. That's how long Zack will have to listen to Cloud beg and plead, terrified of a drug-induced terror conjured by his already failing mind.

What if this makes Cloud's memory worse? What if Cloud forgets him?

Zack feels sick.

"What's the point of all this?" he asks suddenly, needing to find some sort of reason, some rational, for everything that has happened to them. "What is Hojo doing to us?"

"…"

Zack frowns, irritated by the silence. "What, can't tell me?"

"…"

"…fine. But at least tell me this. Is Cloud going to be okay?"

The scientist looks up at him, eyes empty. "I don't think any of us are going to be okay."

"Stop it." Zack snaps. He doesn't have the patience for a drunk's existential crisis. "You know what I mean. Cloud isn't really…all there anymore. He doesn't remember things. He hears voices that aren't there. And just now, he looked like he didn't know where he was. What's happening to him?"

"I wish I knew." is the only reply offered.

They have nightmares.

Gut-wrenching, heart-stopping, blood-curdling nightmares.

Someone grips his shoulder.

Zack jerks awake. There's someone standing over him. He recoils, lashing out, but he's caught in his blanket and it catches his blow. It's for the best, though, because in that instant Zack recognizes the silhouette in front of him.

"You were yelling." Cloud says. Zack can barely hear him over the thudding of his heart. "Thought you'd want to be woken up."

Zack swallows. His throat is full of sand, his skin slick with sweat. "Thanks."

Cloud nods. He doesn't ask Zack if he's okay. He already knows the answer.

"Sorry for waking you up."

"S'okay. I couldn't sleep anyway." The circles under Cloud's eyes look even darker next to the glow of mako in his eyes. It's spread even farther into his sclera. Except for a rim of white near his lid line, Cloud's eyes have all but filled with mako.

"Are you okay?" Zack asks, because he can't help himself.

Cloud smiles wryly. He doesn't need to answer.

Zack lets his head drop back onto his pillow with a heavy exhale as he disentangles himself from the blanket. It's soaked in sweat and he knows it'll dry stiff. Grimy even before Cloud and Zack arrived, the blanket's condition has only worsened since then. Hojo doesn't offer laundry service.

Cloud watches him peel the sheet from his skin, frowning as Zack shivers when the lab's cold, damp air hits him. "You can use my bed."

"It's okay, Spike."

"I can't sleep. You might as well."

Zack looks at Cloud. His face is lined, haggard. His hands are shaking and there's a persistent twitch in his right eye. He might say he can't sleep, but he needs it.

Zack sighs and uses his blanket to dry the sweat from his skin. He moves to Cloud's bed.

"Come here," he says, patting the space beside him. "Let me try something."

"What?"

"You gotta sleep, buddy."

"I told you, I ca-"

"I know, just let me try something. If you still can't sleep, that's fine. Just let me try."

Cloud hesitates. Zack can feel the exhaustion pouring off him and sees the desire for rest in his eyes. Cloud finally shrugs his shoulders and slumps onto the bed next to Zack. "…fine."

The cot is barely wide enough for the both of them. Zack presses himself as far as he can against the wall to make room for Cloud, who lies on his side facing Zack. His eyelids threaten to close, but his body is tense.

"Close your eyes." Zack tells Cloud.

"Why?"

"Trust me. It's something my mom did for me when I couldn't sleep. A Fair family secret, guaranteed to work."

Cloud eyes him skeptically, but allows his eyes to slide shut. Zack takes his index finger and gently runs it from the space between Cloud's eyebrows, down his nose, and over his chin. He traces the angles of Cloud's face, too sharp to be healthy, brushing over his cheekbones and jawline. He brushes over Cloud's hairline, pushing wayward strands from Cloud's face.

Slowly, the tightness in Cloud's eyes and the hard set of his mouth grow soft. His jaw relaxes and his breathing slows. His body grows heavy as it unwinds, sinking into the mattress. Within minutes, he's asleep.

Zack watches him for a moment, observing the rise and fall of his chest. Something like peace settles over him. Cloud is so warm, so comforting, next to him. Zack feels his eyes grow heavy.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

In…

Out…

...

Cloud stiffens.

Zack is awake in an instant. "What is it?"

Cloud's eyes are wide open, but he doesn't answer Zack.

"Cloud, what is i-?"

"Shh." Cloud silences him. Zack shuts his mouth and listens.

He strains his ears, trying to pick up the sound that put Cloud on alert. He hears the humming of lights, the drone of the vent, the thrumming of machinery. All usual noises. Did Cloud hear footsteps? It wouldn't be the first time Hojo's staff wandered into the lab after hours. But Zack can't hear any footsteps. He can't hear anything unusual at all.

Yet, an expression of disquiet steadily creeps across Cloud's face. His jaw is trembling.

"Do you hear Her?" Cloud whispers.

Dread, heavy and cold, grips Zack. "Who?"

"Her."

The word falls like lead.

Zack strains his ears, praying that Cloud hears one of Hojo's scientists, that someone left a radio on, that perhaps someone's watching television upstairs. He listens until the faint noises from the lab are as loud as a train, the beating of his heart fills his ears, and Cloud's quiet breath sounds like waves crashing onto a beach.

He doesn't hear any voices.

Cloud is looking at him imploringly. Zack can see he's desperate for Zack to confirm that he can hear the voice too, that Cloud isn't the only one hearing a phantom's whisper. But Zack can't lie to him, even if he knows it's what Cloud wants.

"I don't hear anyone." Zack says.

"She's so loud." Cloud says it like a plea. "You have to hear Her."

Zack shakes his head. Cloud's face falls.

"She's so loud…" Cloud repeats. His eyes grow hazy.

"Who is she? What is she saying? ...Cloud?"

Cloud's body has gone slack against the mattress. His eyes drift lazily over the walls, ceiling, Zack, but they're unfocused, as though whatever he's seeing isn't grounded in reality.

Zack shakes him, first gently, then roughly. "Cloud? Cloud!"

Cloud's head sways limply from side to side.

Zack threads his fingers through Cloud's and holds Cloud's hands tight against his chest, hoping to tether Cloud to him so he doesn't drift away.

The fear that Cloud might not come back to him suddenly takes hold of Zack with such intensity that Zack forgets how to breathe. If Cloud...if he…

Zack can't even bring himself to think it.

Without Cloud, Zack would be alone.

Without Cloud, Zack would be without the only person keeping him sane.

Without Cloud, Zack would…

...well, he'd…

He'd find a way to make sure he wouldn't have to live alone for long.

When Zack wakes, Cloud is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Zack shoots bolt upright.

"Cloud?!"

"Mm?"

The relief Zack gets from hearing that single, muffled response is powerful enough to make Zack's throat close momentarily. Cloud is with him again.

Zack works past the lump in his throat to ask, "How are you?"

"Tired."

"Do you… Do you still hear…?"

Cloud picks his head out of his hands. The few parts of his eyes that are still white are bloodshot. "Hear what?"

Zack's stomach tightens. "Never mind."

Cloud frowns, and, for a moment, Zack's afraid he's going to push him. But Cloud just drops his head back into his hands and rubs at his temples, as if trying to press something from his mind.

Every day is a new test.

A test of endurance. Strength. Will.

Zack is tired of being tested. He knows Cloud is too.

Hojo is always testing them, always collecting data. He tests them to see how fast they run, how hard they hit, how high they jump…

…and how quickly they heal.

A dull, shiver-inducing crack echoes through the cell. Zack looks up to see Cloud sitting rigidly on his cot, staring at his swollen, black and blue fingers distorted into shapes no hand should be in. Except his index finger.

It reset itself.

A second crack sounds, and this time Zack sees Cloud's ring finger twitch as it straightens itself. Cloud flinches. A scientist on the other side of the bars scratches notes onto a clipboard.

SOLDIER enhancements accustomed Zack to accelerated healing, but never before had he experienced bones resetting themselves. Whatever Hojo is doing to them, it's pushing their bodies beyond typical SOLDIER enhancements. Zack grits his teeth as his backwards-bent thumb straightens itself out. The scientist makes another note on the clipboard.

"Did I ever tell you about the time when Angeal ditched me while we were camping?" he asks to drown out the sound of grinding bones.

"Probably." Cloud says. He winces as his pinky jumps. "But tell me again."

"He told me I deserved a break since I'd been working so hard, so he said we should go camping to relax. I was so excited. I think that was the first time I'd been promised a break since I joined SOLDIER. So he took me out to the flats, just me and him. It was summer, so we didn't bring a tent. It was warm enough to sleep outside, just us and the stars…" Emotion unexpectedly swells in his throat. It's been too long since he's seen the stars. He clears his throat and continues, voice gravelly.

"Anyway, it turned out to be a lesson about the importance of always being prepared. Typical Angeal. When I woke up, he was gone, along with the truck, my com-radio, and rations. I was so pissed!"

Cloud snorts, and Zack is relieved to see a small smile appear on his face under the faint black eye that still lingered from that morning.

"Luckily he left me my sword and canteen, though. Other than that, it was a five-day hike back to Midgar by myself, digging holes for water, roasting monsters over a fire, an- what's wrong?"

Cloud's smile had dropped from his face. "Midgar…?"

Shit.

"Midgar… that sounds familiar."

"It's a city." Zack offers, trying to sound casual.

"Have I been there?"

Zack hesitates. He's not sure what kind of memories talking about Midgar would dredge up for Cloud. He doesn't want Cloud to hurt like he did when he remembered Nibelheim.

"Have I been there?" Cloud demands. "Answer me, Zack."

"…yeah. You have."

"For what? A visit? A mission?"

"…"

"Zack."

"It's where Shinra HQ is. You lived there, in the barracks."

Zack sees tears pool in the corners or Cloud's eyes, but they are quickly scrubbed away as Cloud draws his forearm angrily across his face. "Why can't I remember anything?" he asks furiously.

"Cloud…"

"I'm losing my mind, Zack."

"We'll go there after we get out, when you see it, you'll remember-"

Cloud laughs bitterly. "When? Face it, Zack, we're never getting out of here."

The words hurt. They're ones Zack has never dared speak out loud.

"We…we can't give up." he tries.

"Why can't we?" Cloud snaps. He isn't yelling, but he might as well be by the way his words strike Zack. "What are we trying to prove? What are you trying to prove? I don't need your optimism, Zack. I know there is no way out. There's no one looking for us. There's no one left to care. We're going to rot in here until there's nothing left."

He scowls furiously at his hands. "I just guess it's my mind that's going first."

Zack has no response, so he remains silent. He lies down heavily onto his cot and turns so his back is facing Cloud.

Cloud is right. They're never getting out of here.

Maybe they should give up.

They're so tired, afterall.

They don't talk about what happens to them in the lab. There's no need. They were both there. Neither of them want to relive it through words.

So they talk of other things. Or at least Zack does. Cloud mostly listens. He shares embarrassing moments, tense fights, and snippets of normalcy. He tells Cloud about his time as a third, then second, then first. He talks and talks until he's pretty sure he has nothing left to tell, which is just as well, because Zack isn't sure how to talk to Cloud anymore.

How can he, when each conversation starts to feel like walking through a minefield?

Cloud no longer knows what the Buster Sword is.

Cloud can't remember who Angeal is.

Cloud isn't sure if he's been to Junon before.

Zack should just stop talking.

But he doesn't.

"Who's Aerith?" Cloud asks.

Zack would think it'd get easier, Cloud losing memories. He would think he would be used to it by now. He's not.

You know who she is, Zack wants to say. Think, Cloud, you know, you know, you know.

"A friend." he chokes out instead.

"So then what happened?" Cloud asks, waiting for Zack to continue the story.

But Zack can't continue. There's a lump of grief in his throat that words can't get around.

Cloud doesn't press him.

Zack thinks Cloud isn't sure how to talk to him anymore either.

Hojo wants something from Cloud.

Zack isn't sure what, but he's certain it has something to do with the voice that Cloud has been hearing. Hojo continues to poke and prod Cloud, forcing drugs down his throat and watching him intensely for…something. Whatever he wants, he's not getting, and Cloud spends hours writhing under the effects of hallucinogens, terrified of creatures in his own mind.

Yet, the lack of results doesn't deter Hojo. He tries again and again, each failure making him more determined to wrestle whatever it is he's seeking from Cloud. He pushes Cloud to the point where Zack is sure Cloud's mind will snap, and then even further still. So focused is Hojo on Cloud, Zack goes days, maybe even weeks, without having to endure the Professor's touch. While he doesn't miss it, a strange kind of guilt gnaws at Zack when they're led back to the cell with Cloud blinded by pain and Zack left unhurt.

The scents of vibrant summer fade back into those of dusky autumn, and Zack is faced with the painful realization that two years have now passed. Cloud, now with enhanced senses, can smell the change in seasons too, and, although he doesn't say anything, Zack knows he's thinking it too.

Or he thinks he knows.

Cloud has become hard for him to read lately. He won't look Zack in the eye and only speaks in one-word responses. He spends more and more time slumped on his cot, his face blank. Zack occasionally hears him mumbling under his breath, but when Zack asks him what he's saying, he stops.

Zack is sick with worry. He tries pulling Cloud back, asking him questions, repeating old stories, reviewing footwork techniques, but, more often than not, Cloud remains distant, stuck somewhere in his mind where Zack can't reach.

Zack starts to understand that Cloud might finally be breaking and it kills him.

There are strangers in the lab.

The only faces Zack has known for the past two years are those of Cloud, Hojo, and his staff. Zack stares unabashedly at the unfamiliar faces, somewhat taken aback at the variation in their features, drinking in how different they are from what he's grown accustomed to. His eyes linger on the differences in the shapes of their noses, the varying hues of their eyes, the unique lines on their faces… Yet they all share the same, unaffected expressions while looking at Cloud and Zack.

It takes Zack a moment to figure out why this bothers him when everyone, aside from Cloud, has looked at him with the same cold, detached expression for the past two years. Shouldn't he be used to it by now? But then he realizes that he had been hoping that the human monsters of this world were limited to only the people in this lab. He should have known better, Shinra being the den of monsters that it is, that people complicit in human experimentation existed beyond Nibelheim.

As Hojo briefs his staff on the procedure, Zack hears Cloud start to shake. He's shaking too. He tries to focus on the droning of the fluorescent lights overhead so he won't have to hear what Hojo has planned, but there's no tuning him out. Zack wants to hum, to talk over him, but he's already been silenced. So he listens with growing anxiety at what is to come.

Hojo assigns roles to the newcomers and gets to work.

Bile rises in Zack's throat when he hears the whining of the drill make contact with Cloud's skull. The stench of burning bone fills the air.

There's a flurry of activity in Zack's peripheral vision. He hears the clink of metal tools being picked up and set down on a tray. Cloud chokes and gags. He thrashes against the table. Another seizure.

It's quiet, other than the sounds of Cloud shuddering against the operating table, but even over time, those tremors begin to slow. Zack hears the scientists grow restless. Someone is clicking a pen incessantly. Someone is scribbling notes. Someone is chewing their fingernails. Zack's own heartbeat echoes loudly in his ears. He shifts uncomfortably, his wrists and feet growing numb from lying for so long on the table. Someone yawns. It's quiet, so quiet, until...

An inhuman scream pierces the air.

Terror seizes Zack. Although restrained, his hands flinch to reach up to cover his ears. He wants to curl into a ball, to cower and hide, to get away from this awful, dread-inducing scream. It drills deep into his mind, twisting like a corkscrew, burrowing fear and sowing discord into Zack's brain. The scream lasts and lasts and lasts, dragging on past what Cloud's lungs should have been able to sustain, unnatural in its length and pitch. It drowns out all other noise, including those of Zack's own thoughts, resonating with utter, terrifying wrongness that Zack is certain nothing will ever be right again.

The lights flicker wildly, casting the room into flickering shadow, dark, light, dark, light darklightdarklight until the light bulbs explode overhead. Broken glass rains onto Zack and drives a thousand wounds into his exposed skin, hot blood trickling down onto the table. In his peripheral vision, he sees the scientists dart under desks, shielding their heads with their hands. Zack squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the cuts on his face tear and pull. Blood gets in his eye. The lab creaks and groans, sounding as though it might threaten to collapse. A howling wind tears through the lab, scattering papers, knocking over shelves. He tries to retreat into his mind to escape the scream, even just for a second, but there is no escape. It's there, in his mind, all-present, tearing away at everything that makes him him, his memories, his hopes, his dreams... It gnaws at him, eating away, taking over everything, everything, everything, everything, until-

Silence.

Zack opens his eyes.

The emergency lights flicker on overhead, bathing the lab in a faint, unnerving light. Dust drifts down from the ceiling, giving everything a pale, ghostly pallor. Shattered glass crunches under the scientists' feet as they emerge unsteadily from their hiding places, although the sound is muted, as if someone was holding thick pillows over Zack's ears. He notices blood dripping from the scientists' ears. Zack can feel it coming from his too.

Only Hojo remained standing where Zack last saw him. He idly brushes brush glass from his coat as he stands, transfixed, over Cloud.

Oh.

Cloud.

His eyes stare emptily at the ceiling, mako gleaming from them with such intensity that they illuminate the falling dust around him. As Zack's eyes adjust, his heart leaps into his throat when he realizes that the glowing isn't just from Cloud's eyes. It is from everything.

Cloud gleams with a thin sheen of luminescent sweat, his veins highlighted as rivers of light beneath his skin. Glowing tears, snot, and saliva coat his face, and the blood trickling from his ears, the skin he tore open against his cuffs, and the cuts from the falling glass is as bright as pure mako. Horrorstruck, Zack watches Cloud's blood pulse through his body, marked by beads of light traveling just under his skin. It looks as though Cloud fell into the lifestream and was just pulled out. Zack could feel a gentle thrum of power, similar to that emanating from mako reactors, radiating from Cloud.

It should be enough mako to kill Cloud and poison everyone in the lab.

Hojo, however, does not look worried.

"Vitals," he snaps.

After a few false starts, one scientist makes her way over to Cloud and reaches for him. Before she can touch him, Cloud's unfocused gaze snaps into perfect clarity, his lips tearing back into a cold snarl. The scientist rips her hand back.

Cloud begins to speak, but it isn't Cloud's voice that comes from his lips. Harsh, rasping words fill the air, utterly incomprehensible to Zack. It's the same language Zack heard him whisper before. It doesn't sound like anything that belongs to this Planet.

Zack's blood runs cold.

"His eyes! Get documentation of his eyes!" Hojo has to shriek above Cloud's chanting, which is steadily increasing in volume and intensity. Prodded back into action, the scientists swarm Cloud's body. Zack sees them tuck away several syringes of glowing blood samples. A camera flashes several times. Zack hears the beep of video recording starting. Vials clink as scientists scurry to and from Cloud, nearly tripping over one another as they fight for space around the operating table.

Only Hojo remains unmoving in the chaos. He hovers above Cloud, braced on hands splayed on either side of Cloud's face. He bends low over Cloud, leaving only a few inches to separate them.

"Speak to me, J-E-N-O-V-A."

The cell door slams just seconds before Zack strikes it with his fists. He yells after them, hurling abuse for locking him up while Cloud was still chanting himself hoarse in the lab, but Zack only gets a zap from the electric cuff around his ankle. He kicks the bars out of frustration, and receives a jolt of electricity so strong it sends him to his knees.

Gritting his teeth, Zack pulls himself back to his feet, gripping the bars as hard as he can. He wills them to bend beneath him, but they remain unmoving as they always have.

He should have kept quiet in the lab. Then they might have continued to forget about him and leave him strapped to the table next to Cloud. He might have been able to be there with Cloud, or at least closer to him. But he had to open his mouth, trying to call Cloud's name to break him from the trance, kicking the table angrily as much as he could once he was silenced. And that got him thrown back in his cell, away from Cloud while Cloud…well, he…

What was that?

Uncurling his fingers from the bars, Zack realizes that his hands are shaking.

What was that?!

When Zack blinks, he sees the afterimage of Cloud, glowing in the darkened lab. An echo of his scream still rings in his ears. He hears Cloud's hoarse voice still chanting in the lab. The word "possession" enters Zack's mind. A shiver ripples down Zack's spine. He wants to push that word away, possessions were only a thing of books and movies, but he can't. He can't think of any other way to describe what he saw.

Everything had been wrong. Unnatural. Not of this planet. Sinister.

J-E-N-O-V-A, Hojo had said. Has it been Her voice whispering to Cloud all this time? Is this what Hojo has been after? Has he been seeking to create a mouthpiece for Her?

Zack suddenly feels like he needs to sit down.

Sephiroth was driven to madness by Her pull.

Now Cloud.

That terrifies Zack.

Cloud might not be coming back to him.

Hours later, he does come back, drifting like a ghost between the guards. Zack is relieved, if not shocked, that Cloud is still standing.

Zack unfolds himself from his cot, muscles aching in protest from keeping still for so long. Although he had picked all of the broken glass from his skin and the cuts have healed, his skin is still tender. He knows to keep to the back of the cell when the guards open the door, but the moment Cloud is through and the door shuts behind him, Zack is at his side.

"Hey, Spike." Zack goes to brush away the hair obscuring Cloud's eyes but thinks better of it when he sees the blood-splattered gauze taped over the hole Hojo drilled into his skull. Swallowing nausea, he asks "How are you feeling?"

Cloud doesn't respond. Or move. Or give any indication that he hears Zack at all.

"...Cloud?" A flicker of unease ignites in Zack. "You alright?"

Cloud remains motionless, eyes downcast.

Worry pooling in his stomach, Zack takes Cloud's hands in his and squeezes. Cloud's hands are cold, limp. Zack kneels so he can look into Cloud's eyes. "Cloud, can you hear me-...oh."

The mako saturating Cloud's eyes has concentrated itself in the iris, turning Cloud's acidic green, slit by cat-like pupils.

The air freezes in Zack's lungs.

Sephiroth.

"Cloud?" Zack tries again, resisting the urge to drop Cloud's hands and throw himself backward. "You gotta say something, buddy. You...you're scaring me."

Cloud's gaze remains unfocused.

Zack squeezes his hands again and brings them to his lips. "Cloud, come on, please." he whispers against Cloud's knuckles.

Nothing.

Zack's lungs seem to malfunction as he takes a large, shuddering breath. He lets go of Cloud's hands and rocks back onto his heels. A detached, numb feeling overtakes him. He vaguely recognizes it as disbelief.

He rises to stand and reaches to take Cloud's face in his hands so he can tilt his head back to meet his gaze. Or, he tries to.

Cloud's hands grasp Zack's wrists with enough force to send Zack back to his knees. Zack hits the ground as Cloud's heel connects with his chest, and Zack is sent flying. He slams into the wall with a thud.

Stunned, Zack lies in a heap, trying to suck breath back into his paralyzed lungs. The back of his head throbs. A trickle of hot blood creeps down his neck and his scalp itches as his skin knits itself back together. He struggles to his feet, warily eyeing Cloud, who hasn't moved. His eyes are still cold and expressionless.

"Okay," Zack says shakily. He keeps his back to the wall and edges over to his cot. "You don't want to be touched right now. That's fine."

He forces himself to sit down, even though his instincts are telling him to prepare for a fight. Cloud doesn't move, just stares at him blankly. His corrosive, green eyes are unsettling, but Zack searches them for some hint of Cloud underneath. "I'm here when you need me, okay?"

Cloud doesn't answer.

It takes several hours for Zack to relax after Cloud's attack. Letting his muscles relax, he slumps back against the wall staring dully at Cloud. He still hasn't moved.

The guards slide their dinner under the bars and Cloud doesn't move.

Zack removes another piece of glass he had overlooked from his leg and Cloud doesn't move.

The scientists leave for the night and Cloud doesn't move.

Zack's eyes droop from fatigue, and Cloud doesn't move.

Zack is nearly asleep when Cloud drops like a puppet with its strings cut. He's out of bed and by his side before he's even fully conscious.

"Cloud?!"

"Zuh-…" Cloud starts, but grimaces and clears his throat.

Zack hands him the cup of water the guards brought earlier, which Cloud accepts gratefully. As he drinks, Zack notices his eyes have gone back to normal. Honest-to-goodness normal, with circular pupils and natural blue hues, as they had been before mako started bleeding from his irises.

"Zack," Cloud's voice is like broken glass, ragged, painful, and sharp. It's the most beautiful sound Zack's ever heard.

"Yeah, Spike?" His voice is shaky with relief.

Cloud gestures to his throat. "Why…?"

"...you don't remember?" The question is out before Zack remembers he's not supposed to ask Cloud about his memory.

Cloud doesn't notice. He shakes his head, fingers brushing gently against the gauze on his head. "Just getting to the lab. What happened?"

Zack shakes his head. He doesn't want to remind Cloud (or himself) of what happened. He's afraid of what might happen if Cloud remembers, whether it's a repeat of what occurred or whether it makes Cloud recede into his mind again. He just wants to sit here and soak in the fact that Cloud is responsive again, that he survived another day in Hojo's care, and that he's still here with Zack. "I…"

"Tell me."

"Cloud, I'm not sure I sho-"

"Zack." Cloud gives him his trademark look of insistence, the same one that convinced Zack to start teaching him swordsmanship after hours at Shinra HQ.

He never could say no to him.

"I don't know." Zack says. Cloud opens his mouth to protest, but Zack hurriedly continues, "I promise, I don't know what happened. Hojo gave you something and it… you… you weren't yourself."

"What did I do?" Cloud asks. Zack's throat hurts listening to him speak.

"You screamed."

"Screamed?"

"You said some things too."

The confusion is visible on Cloud's face. "Like?"

"I...I'm not sure. You weren't speaking any language I know."

"...oh." Cloud notices the pile of bloodied glass shards Zack picked from his skin and left on the floor. "What are those?"

"The lights exploded. Everyone got cut."

Cloud looks down at his body, as if expecting to see broken glass he hadn't noticed embedded in it.

"They must have taken yours out for you."

"How long was I in there?"

"Hours."

"Why did the lights explode?"

"Things...things weren't right in there." Zack says haltingly. He doesn't know how to explain what happened. "It was like...like you were possessed."

"Possessed…?" Cloud echoes softly. He stiffens with a gasp and whispers, "J-E-N-O-V-A."

Zack's heart skips a beat when he thinks he sees a flicker of toxic green flood Cloud's eyes, but when he looks again they're back to normal. He grasps Cloud's shoulder and squeezes it. "But you're fine now, yeah? How are you feeling?"

Cloud curls in on himself and lowers his head to rest it on his knees. "I'm scared, Zack."

"You and me both, buddy." Zack said. "You and me both."

Zack overhears that Hojo is leaving for Midgar to share news of his breakthrough with Cloud with the President.

Cloud and Zack breathe a collective sigh of relief. With Hojo gone, they were guaranteed a few days without pain. Zack wonders if they can make another plan to escape, just as they had the last time Hojo was gone.

Something is wrong with Cloud, though. He's...off.

Neither Zack nor Cloud can put words to it, and whenever Zack asks Cloud how he is, Cloud just says that he's fine. Yet, a few days after Hojo leaves for Midgar, Cloud can't get warm.

"Here, put this on."

With a muffled noise of protest, Cloud unwraps his arms from around his waist to disentangle the shirt that Zack tossed onto his head from his hair.

"You don't want it?" Cloud asks, holding the warm fabric close.

Zack waves his hand dismissively and grins. "Nah, I'm good. We Gongagans run hot."

Cloud rolls his eyes, but tugs on Zack's shirt immediately before wrapping himself in the sheet from his cot.

Zack wads up his own blanket and lobs it over to him, which Cloud accepts without protest before curling into a shivering ball.

Zack watches him for a moment before reaching a decision. He throws his mattress onto the ground and walks over to Cloud's cot.

He tugs at Cloud's mattress. "Get up, buddy, I need this."

Cloud's eyes peek out from his meager cocoon of blankets. "Huh?"

"Get up." Zack repeats insistently.

"S'too cold to mo- hey!"

Zack grabs the mattress on either end and hoists it up with Cloud folded in the middle. He spins on his heel and lowers his cargo to the ground next to his own mattress.

He steps over Cloud and lays down next to him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"…'m still cold." Cloud mutters sullenly.

"Hang on, I'm getting to that part." He tugs on the covers. "Open up."

Cloud eyes him doubtfully, but complies. Zack scoots toward Cloud and opens his arms to draw him closer. Zack sucks in an involuntary breath. "You're freezing!"

Cloud mumbles something that sounds like "I told you" against Zack's shoulder.

It's a testament to how cold Cloud is that he leans into Zack rather than shrinking away. Zack, however, pulls away from Cloud when his skin comes in contact with Cloud. He's like ice. Cloud's shivers grow more and more intense, shaking Zack along with him. Zack forces himself to exhale and relax against Cloud's frigid body. "Come here, buddy."

Cloud buries his head into Zack's chest and Zack wraps his arms around him, his hands mindlessly tracing patterns into Cloud's back. He waits for Cloud to warm up next to him, but all that happens is Cloud continues to suck more and more heat from him, so much so that Zack is starting to grow cold himself. Zack doesn't mind, though. He repositions his hold on Cloud and pulls him even closer, tangling his legs with his and tucking Cloud's head under his chin to give him any extra heat he has.

They lie together like that until Cloud gradually stops shivering.

"Better?" Zack asks.

Cloud doesn't answer. Frowning, Zack pulls back from him to look Cloud in the eye. As he pushes Cloud away, Cloud rolls over lifelessly, and Zack feels that the skin not in direct contact with him is deathly cold.

Zack yells for help.

Cloud is in bad shape. Bad, bad shape.

He isn't going to survive the night. The guards know it. Zack knows it. Cloud is dying and there is no one to help. Hojo and his scientists are in Midgar, a day's journey away.

One of the guards brings Cloud a blanket, but it doesn't help. Cloud continues to fade. His breathing slows to the point that each one sounds like it will be his last. He floats in and out of coherency, one moment begging Zack to help him please, and the next engaged in a slurred conversation with someone only he could see. His eyes roll lazily in their sockets, coated with a dull sheen. Sometimes he looks Zack in the eye, and Zack gets a spark of hope that he might finally be coming back to himself. It never lasts. His lips are dry and cracked, indicating dehydration, but the small sip of water Zack manages to get him to drink only causes him to retch bile.

Zack starts talking over Cloud, trying to drown out his incoherent ramblings with stories that bring him comfort. He talks about his childhood, things that make him laugh, his dreams, any good memory that he desperately wishes he could live again. He talks about the time he and Cloud met, how he was so relieved to find a fellow country boy to help them through the mountains. He talks about the time he, Kunsel, and Cloud snuck into a bar and then had an impromptu swimming trip into the fountain. He talks about how much Cloud means to him, how he never saw Cloud as weak for not making SOLDIER, how Cloud is the strongest person he knows. He hums and sings songs he still remembers even after all this time, he strokes Cloud's back and pets his hair, teasing hi, about his uncanny resemblance to a Chocobo. He protectively tucks the blankets over them once, twice, three times, to make sure they were as secure as possible, but Cloud won't heat up.

"It's okay, buddy." he says, voice cracking. "You're alright…you're alright…"

He repeats those words like a prayer until his voice gives out.

…

…

…

"…who are you?"

Zack jerks awake, disoriented. Cloud is looking at him. His face is lined with exhaustion and his eyes are half-mast, but for the first time in hours, he is lucid enough to recognize that Zack is in front of him. It takes Cloud repeating himself for Zack to understand his question. Cloud's words are slow and heavy, as if his mouth has forgotten the movements of speech.

"Who are you…?"

Zack's heart stops.

"…you don't know me?" Zack whispers.

"…no."

The word pierces Zack like shrapnel.

The room tilts around him, wildly spinning, suddenly airless. Zack can't breathe, can't think, can't move. Anguish seizes him. It feels as though a vice has wrapped around his heart, crushing it with grief. His vision becomes blurred, and when he blinks, he feels hot tears spill from his eyes.

Cloud stiffens and Zack realizes he has unconsciously tightened his grip on Cloud, pulling him closer against him, tangling his fingers in his hair and digging his nails against his back in a desperate attempt at bringing him back to Zack. Zack forces himself to relax his embrace and swallows down the grief clogging his throat.

"I'm Zack." he chokes. He searches Cloud's eyes for any glimmer of recognition, any sign that Zack's name means something to him, but Cloud's eyes remain dim.

"…Zack...?" Cloud breathes.

"Yeah?"

"Who am I...?"

Zack's heart shatters.

"You're Cloud, buddy." He takes Cloud's face between his hands and presses his forehead against Cloud's. "You're my best friend." he whispers fiercely.

"Mm..." Cloud murmurs. His eyes slide out of focus and drift shut. "…Zack…?"

"Yeah, Spike? …Spike?"

He doesn't get an answer. Cloud goes limp in Zack's arms.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Zack presses his lips to Cloud's forehead and waits for the end.

Against all odds, Cloud is still breathing when Hojo's quick footsteps storm into the lab. He sweeps down the hall to their cell, his staff scurrying after him. Before Zack can move, the sharp poke of a sedative-loaded syringe hits his shoulder. He fights the drug with everything he has and locks his arms around Cloud.

If Cloud is going to die, he wants to be with him.

But the drug is powerful, and Zack's arms eventually slacken against his will. Cloud's cold body leaves his embrace and is lifted onto a gurney. They wheel him away and Zack's vision blurs with tears before fading to black.

Hojo is yelling when he wakes. He hears the shattering of beakers, the thudding of books, and clattering of surgical tools hitting the ground.

Zack is still too incoherent to understand what he's saying, but he can intuit the meaning well enough.

His experiment is a failure.

Cloud is a failure.

Does that mean that…

That Cloud is…?

Zack can't bring himself to think the word.

As he lies on the ground, one arm trapped and numb beneath his body, loneliness, as pure, raw, and aching as he's ever felt, swallows him. Cloud isn't coming back.

Zack is alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

He shuts his eyes against the pain.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking bad.

He hears Hojo shrieking at his staff, raging that they're to blame for Cloud. He hears papers being shredded, steel being kicked, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Zack curls his semi-responsive body into a ball and covers his ears.

An endless pit of grief has replaced his insides. He's drowning in it.

He barely realizes there are footsteps echoing down the hallway toward him until the guards stop by his cell. Zack opens his bloodshot eyes, but he can't read the expressions on their faces. They don't offer any information and Zack is too afraid to ask. They wordlessly open the door to his cell and motion for him to step through. Zack crawls to his feet and limps toward them.

The few yards it takes Zack to get from the cell to the lab is the longest and shortest walk of his life. As he rounds the corner, a quiet moan of grief escapes him.

Cloud is in a mako tank, floating still and lifeless.

"Is...is he…?" Zack begins to ask, but before he can force the question out, a sharp pain pricks his neck, and his body becomes heavy once again. He doesn't fight the sedative this time, he embraces it and the nothingness it brings.

He feels the guards' hands on him, forcing him into the tank next to Cloud's. He lets it happen. He has no more fight left in him.

The mako begins bubbling up beneath his feet and carries him upward. His vision is getting blurry now, his body going numb. He forces his sight to remain fixed on Cloud, even as his vision grows blurry and blackens around the edges. He tries to recall happier times, moments of freedom he and Cloud had enjoyed together. He can't.

So he clings to this last image of Cloud, floating cold and alone in mako, watching him, watching him, watching…

Until he sees nothing more.