Day 29: Rec Field (2nd Shift)
[OOC: Waiting for Kenren, I think...? Daddy!?!]It was the second time she'd needed to be sedated since being dumped in this awful place. The fight hadn't even really been a fight either, just a refusal to move or do anything that the nurses wanted her to do after "Tyki" had left. It was just the adamant resistance that had gotten her injected and
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He blinked as he found himself staring up at Barret, and he managed to mostly hold back the look of suspicion as he gazed up at the other man. What had they done to him? He thought that was a funny question, since he was all alone at this part of the Recreation Field and had not been disturbed until now.
"Are you feeling alright," he asked instead of answering the question. Barret seemed a little more tense then normal, but he did not remove his hand from where it was clutching Barret's forearm as a warning. He knew he would not have to increase his hold any; Barret was normally full of hot air around most of them.
Before he knew it, his lips quirked up in a gentle smile again. "Someone came to visit me today," he said softly. "My mom," he said, sounding almost excited to share the news. "She was doing wonderfully. Has anyone come to visit you?"
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The frown deepened however when Cloud directed a question at him. He found the inquiry stupid, considering the predicament they were all in, “Hell no, I’m not all right. But I’m alive; and still pretty damn sane so far.” He didn’t quite relinquish his hold on the man’s shoulders either, but was deftly aware of the return grip on his arm. The sight on his face was too memorizing to be bothered with the small things.
He was smiling, and it was a smile that told him if he hadn’t completely cracked, the end was forebodingly near. But it was the next words that tumbled out of his mouth that solidified his suspicions, and froze the blood in his veins.
“Cloud…” he shook his head, eyes filled with sadness as he regarded his friend in quiet calculation. He seemed happy, even if this whole world was nothing but hells’ playground, and every corner turned flipped up a new trick to torture and tantalize them with. Worry was clearly projected in his brown eyes as was hesitation. He didn’t know how to approach this one. Tifa was so much better at things like this, but she…
“They’re trying to mess with your head, make you think you’re crazy when you’re not. The majority of us aren’t. I got a visitor too. You know who it was?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Dyne. Dyne is dead, you saw him die. But it wasn’t just him, it was Marlene too. Marlene…when she was three. They’re using the ones we love as a tactic to break us apart.” He didn’t want to tell him the possibility that they might be victims just as much as they were. One thing at a time. “It’s like an illusion. It’s not real, at least not what they want you to believe.”
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There was a flash of resentment to the pitying look that Barret gave him, and he did not want pity. He wanted to go back to sitting in the sun and enjoying the thought that the people who had lost their lives in their world had found there way to somewhere not even the ebbs and flow of the Lifestream could take away. People who had suffered so much - like his mother, Zack and Aerith - could find contentment in life again.
He knew for a fact he was not crazy, and he knew what he had seen in his mother had been an illusion based simply on what she called him. However, that would never lessen how much he was her son no matter what name she gave to him. “I know that I am not crazy,” he insisted with more strength then he normally put forward verbally. “No matter what she calls me, I am still her only son. She is contented, and it is nice to know that she is happy. How is that so wrong? Maybe there is something beyond being pulled into the Lifestream and being recycled energy?”
Drawing his hand down Barret’s arm, he clasped the larger man’s wrist and squeezed as he made a minor attempt to push Barret’s hand off of his shoulder. “I am not broken. It is just nice to know that she has found happiness. Maybe Zack and Aerith are out there too, happy in their lives after suffering so much. Maybe they have a second chance at a life that was stripped away. Is that so hard to want to believe in?”
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His words hit a sore spot. He wanted nothing more than to believe those who passed on (at least those who deserved it) found peace and happiness beyond. But at the same time, considering the situation and location, this wasn't the place he wanted them to be. He wanted to argue, he wanted to shake Cloud until he saw things his way, but instead he opened and closed his mouth. The words didn't form, wouldn't come to him the way they wanted. The frustration behind his eyes were apparent, even as he forced his heated gaze to a spot by his feet.
His comments brought him to think briefly of his own mother, or at least what he'd remembered of her. Myrna, Dyne...yes, he wanted to believe they were well any happy, but... "This ain't the place to be well and happy, Cloud. We're stuck in this jailhouse, bein' forced to believe we're nuts, and them visitors we keep getting are reinforcing that idea. I ain't sayin' you're crazy, but if you get too soft at the idea that your mom, that should be very dead, is livin' a paradise-like life in this shitty ass world, you're gonna go apeshit when the truth punches you and lays you flat."
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He felt a sort of foreign satisfaction that Barret could not counter his words, but the feeling turned suddenly petty and childish. He just wanted something to believe in, especially after all the times that he had spent shielding everyone from himself and any danger. He had been forefront on pushing himself into Kadaj’s life and shoving aside Sephiroth’s influence as well as trying his best to gather information for pending escape from this place. Why could he not find something warm and happy?
He felt his right hand clench at his side, disliking that Barret of all people was trying to talk some sense into him or felt the need that it was necessary. He kept good control over himself as he pushed off the wall and stepped up to Barret, staring up the height difference between them. It was not often he ever felt the need to be verbally aggressive, but this time… he would. “What about me then,” he hissed. “I am just as dead as they are. How can I not know this is just my punishment for failure again? Maybe seeing my mom again is supposed to give me hope that there is some good somewhere even if I have to stay on the other side of the glass from it.”
Raising a hand, he seized the front of Barret’s shirt, tugging on it. “Do you not like to feel important or loved, Barret? Does it not feel good to know that someone is worrying about you, that they want to take care of you instead of relying on your strength all the time?”
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The grip on his shirt was tight and caused his hackles to raise, but not as they would in the presence of an enemy. Still, he didn't like to be physically intimidated by anyone--he was the one who did the intimidating, "That ain't the God damn point and you know it, Spike!" His anger bristled, even though he understood his friends' feelings on the matter, "Don't give me no bullshit about death and punishment again, that shit is tired and I'm sick of fuckin' hearin' about you bein' the one to suffer for your sins. Between you and Vincent y'all make me nauseous. You dead, I'm dead, because we're in the same fucking hell, and I am NOT FUCKING DEAD SO GET THAT IDEA OUT OF YOUR MOTHER FUCKING HEAD!"
His temper had nearly peaked during his spat, and he gripped Cloud's wrist not with his fleshed hand, but his metallic hand--he wasn't playing games, "I know you crackin' now, because the Cloud I remember got over this shit already. The Cloud I remember had a mind to know that his friends were his family, that they'd care about him and watch his back no matter what. Now you relying on a ghost. To accept what you say means I have to accept Marlene is really here...a three year old child used as a ploy to make us crazy. You think that's easy for me!?"
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His eyes flicked to the feel of cold metal gripping his wrist, and it seemed to feel like they were walking a very fine line with one another. He knew that such a hand could break bones, even his own. It felt like Barret was challenging him, maybe even ramping up for a fight. “And where have you and everyone else been for me here? We are all dealing with the same situation, but no one gets along anymore. We are not a family… we hardly act like friends most of the time. We are falling apart, and you feel you can come around and say I have changed?”
Without thinking about it, he shoved Barret back to put some distance between them. “You are such a damn hypocrite, Wallace,” he muttered. He frowned as he thought of using the bigger man’s last name, something he had not done in years. “You wish you had someone to actually give you comfort, but you are too busy pushing everyone away like a damned coward. Do not call me a coward for trying to believe in something without looking in the mirror,” he said coldly.
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Te last shred of reason Barret possessed fled the instant Cloud applied force against him. It was a shove, but a shove was all it took to break the dam of fiery wrath. He had been itching for a fight, so when he drew up his fleshed hand and swung the back of his knuckles toward his friends’ face, he wasn’t surprised. He had hoped (the part that could still process coherent thoughts) that the action would make him feel better.
It didn’t.
This was a friend, not a foe that he struck, which piled the guilt so thick that it was suffocating him. As his hand tingled from the strike, the potential apology was lost in his throat and his thoughts. It was too late for that now, since he knew with the first strike that he’d called upon a storm known as Cloud Strife.
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He found himself rocking on his feet when the thick fist slammed hard into his face, blinking at the explosion of pain along his cheek and mouth a moment before he became aware of something very different. His lips parted as he stood unmoved from his spot, and he felt the first evidence of what had happened on his chin. He lifted a hand and touched his chin, finding himself looking at crimson on his fingers, and it became clear that the hot throbbing pain was accompanied with blood from either his cheek of lips.
His cheek was already darkening with bruise as his blue eyes shifted to stare at the larger man, and, without thinking, he drew his lower lip into his mouth for a moment before spitting his own blood up onto Barret’s cheek. The mako seemed to catch and blaze in his eyes as he took a step forward, willing and able to give a fight to the bigger man.
He took a swing up at Barret’s face before sliding to his right and launching his weight at the bigger man. He was faster than Barret was, and he was certain that he could tackle the bigger man to the ground and lay waste to his injured pride and feelings.
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It took a lot of will power to keep himself in place as the flying scarlet splattered his cheek. He deserved it, and a whole lot more. So when the hit came, he was braced for it. However, it was the attempt at a tackle that blew the feet from under him...literally. Before contact was made, he gripped at Strifes' elbows as he took the brunt of the fall at his back. He grunted at the collision against the ground, and put forth his strength to keep his friend from ruining his face, or whatever else he could get his hands on.
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He twisted his upper body in an attempt to free his elbows from Barret's grip, and he eventually tugged hard on them when he found the grip on him good. His fingers dug into the bigger man's shirt, pulling on it as he tried to get his feet under him to rise again.
"You started this... finish it," he demanded harshly. He shoved his hands into Barret's chest and ground his teeth in his frustration. He did not care that he was bleeding; he wanted this just as much as Barret did, he realized.
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And Barret did start it. Without thinking, he began this inevitable battle that would either break their standing friendship or make it stronger. He didn't know which way it was going to tip at this point, but had a feeling backing out of the fight would be worse than succumbing to the temptation.
Plus--he'd longed for a time to beat the hell out of Spike, if just once.
A feral grin spread on his face suddenly, "I think I fuckin' will." Before he paused to take a breath, he shifted his weight to the left, bringing Cloud with him as he released his elbows with a hard shove, pushing the man away from him to roll across the ground. He didn't miss a beat, getting to his feet and bracing himself once again against his battle partner. Knowing his friend was faster than him, he'd either have to rely on counters which would force him to remain defensive, or play dirty. Whatever he chose depended on Strife's next move.
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"You better," he said, eyes narrowing at the feral look that Barret had. He shifted his weight with Barret's, ready for anything and found himself shoved away. As he flew, he pushed a hand on the ground and flipped over so he landed on his feet, skidding along the grass.
He stopped on the balls of his feet and drove himself back hard, setting a foot down at the last second from making contact as he launched himself over Barret's shoulders and landed at the man's rear. He swung a leg out in an attempt to trip Barret, lowering himself towards the ground to avoid any potentially flailing limbs.
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He watched Cloud charge, his muscles tense and ready for the leap, knowing he wasn't going to tackle him a second time. He followed the man as he went airborne and turned with him, still wondering how the hell he did that with such fluid grace, like a fucking cat or something. As the foot came toward his feet, he leaped not only to avoid the attack, but with out stretched hands aiming for shoulders, went for a pounce to a hopefully vulnerable Cloud.
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Improvising, he used his momentum to drive his hands into the ground and lifted himself from the ground. He shoved off with his hands, throwing himself underneath Barret and between the man's legs as he skidded across the grass. It was easy to rise to his feet and charge back at Barret, aiming for getting on the man's back and forcing a pin of his own.
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Time wasn't quite on his side, and he was still facing away from the man once he came to a stop. Still, as Cloud nearly collided with his back for the pin, he half turned to grab at his shirt with his metallic hand and pull him toward the front of him, "Too fuckin' scared to fight me face to face?" he bellowed in irritation. No blows had been struck, and he was getting antsy.
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