「 where is that old friend gone? 」
characters: The ghost of Zack Fair, open to anyone.
location: Wandering about in the slums.
time: Early evening.
rating: Going with PG for generally unpleasant imagery.
open/closed: Very much open!
summary: One of the spectres that appeared in the city seems to be searching for something. Or someone. Poor guy. That sword sure looks heavy.
( Lost in a February song. )
location: Wandering about in the slums.
time: Early evening.
rating: Going with PG for generally unpleasant imagery.
open/closed: Very much open!
summary: One of the spectres that appeared in the city seems to be searching for something. Or someone. Poor guy. That sword sure looks heavy.
( Lost in a February song. )
He recognizes the sword before he recognizes its bearer, the lapse in perception filled by--yet again--the same, fragmented memories from before. The texture of the hilt that grips to the leather of his gloves, the weight of the blade straining every sinew in his arms...
He's held that sword before... But when? For what purpose...?
--have to... finish him--
"Zack."
The alarming figure in front of him was Zack. But it couldn't be--
He was--
Blood, fire, steel, smoke.
"Wait--"
Left on his own... both on their own...
Unreachable, intangible. A specter, a memory. Phantom calling upon phantom, Cloud begins to feel the nauseating pull of mako through his veins, the chorus of whispers quickly becoming a foreboding chant. Despite his panic there is some semblance of cold logic working at the back of his mind, and a sickening realization; he knows, and it's only a matter of time before he remembers.
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He died protecting him. It's his only purpose now as he walks the stone streets of the city slums. The boy not far from him had to be kept safe.
One hand then lets go of the broadsword's hilt, trembling as he lifts it up and reaches out towards the other. The blood flows freely from his wounds, falling to the ground with a splatter though the pavement does not stain. And the ghost smiles, meant to be reassuring. The poor boy, he looks so scared.
"It's okay, Spike."
He turns his palm over, gesturing for the boy to come closer. His voice echoes in the streets, a chilling reminder that he's not really there.
"Don't be scared. Everything's okay. I'm here to protect you."
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For him... it had all been for his sake... hadn't it?
He can remember now. No, he must remember.
Nibelheim, the Reactor, the Manor. Unnumbered, unsuccessful, unable. Unable to move, speak, or comprehend for the entire year they'd spent fleeing from ShinRa. Is this... is this what had happened after?
"Why..."
For someone like himself? A failure as a soldier, a failure even as an lab rat.
Because we're friends, right?
Friends.
Scraping together what little courage he has, Cloud manages to stumble forward, voice shaking as badly as the rest of him.
"No..."
Not this. Please, anything but this.
"We're... we're safe now."
But even that sounds like a lie. He's always running, terrified of his past-- but there's no where else to go, now that the truth stands so clearly in front of him.
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They are friends. They're the best of friends, aren't they? A person doesn't face an army and a horrible fate for just anyone. That's how his story ended, to let the other one begin.
Wasn't that it?
The ghost steps closer, dragging the heavy sword behind him. His steps sway to the side for a moment, breathing ragged as he regains his footing, and continues moving closer. He'll meet the other halfway. He can do that. He's strong enough for that. He has to be.
"You're safe, Cloud. I ... I kept you safe. C'mon, let's get out of here."
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If he had known it would come to this, then he didn't want Zack to protect him. He wanted his friend to be okay. It wasn't worth it... It wasn't... He wasn't...
He does his best to keep from sinking to his knees, does his best not to be crushed by the full extent of his helplessness. Unnumbered. Unsuccessful. He should have been the one to disappear, or... maybe he already has.
"Where... where are we going?"
Those five years were not so far behind, after all. Perhaps he was still sleeping, if only for a little longer. A vision inside a vision, a counterfeit soul inside a counterfeit shell.
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Right now, though. Right now, the ghost still had time. He still had time here, which meant there was still danger, and he had to keep the other safe from it. The ghost waves him over again, unable to take another step closer. He's not strong enough to do anything but protect the boy. That's all he could do.
"Away from here. It's ... not safe, we have to go."
He waves once more, leaning heavy against the sword to keep himself on his feet as blood steadily drips to the ground.
"Don't be scared, Cloud. I promised I'd keep you safe. I will."
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It's enough to make him start forward, and his feet move by themselves until he's only an arm's length away from the ghost.
Not safe...
He reaches out to Zack hesitantly, and the cold makes his limbs tense. For a moment it feels as if he's being submerged in liquid mako once again, and his breath hitches painfully in his throat.
Promise...
"I know..."
What unseen enemy was his friend still battling...?
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Enemies are still all around them. Their guns are trained on the pair of them, waiting for them to make one wrong move. The ghost can't let them get past, can't let them harm his friend. He swore to protect him.
"Don't be scared, Spike."
Repetitive as he is, it's all he knows. Don't be scared, he promised to protect him, it's not safe here. Though the other can't feel him, the ghost can, reaching out to gently grasp the blond's hand as soon as he's able to.
"You'll be safe. It'll be alright."
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"I'm not scared."
Not when Zack's with him. He'll be strong too, won't he? Slowly, he imagines the outlines of his friend's hand, the muted weight of his palm. This... was his reality. The city was a construct, an illusion, but Zack's existence was certain. It had always been.
"Let's go."
With a small nod of his head, he waits for the other to regain his strength and lead them away.
It'll be alright...
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Once that hand closes around his, the blond can't feel it but the ghost holds his hand tight, while the other drops it's grip on the broadsword's hilt. The blade disappears into nothing before it hits the ground.
It's okay. The sword was his link before, but now he has his friend's hand. That's all he needs to not disappear like the sword did.
"This way, Cloud."
He tugs gently, leading his friend to the city center. It's safe there. No one will be after them there.
"It's this way ..."
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He doesn't have a place to return to. His town, his home, his mother... He has nothing left, save for his very last friend. There's an instinct that causes him to take hold of the weapon in attempt to keep it from dissipating--but it simply slips through his fingers, the apparition slicing through his senses like cold steel.
...No, it was better this way. They didn't need to fight anymore. All they had to do was run. Always running... But the end was close, wasn't it?
He just wants it to end.
Silently, Cloud follows after his companion, the fall of each footstep wearing down on his slight frame.
He was so tired...
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His steps are slow, however. Everything still hurts him so much, his limbs shaking as blood flows freely from the many gunshot wounds that tear him apart. But he still has just enough strength, just enough left in him to continue tugging his friend along towards their destination. It wouldn't be much longer now.
"This way, Cloud ..."
He repeats the words occasionally, reassuring his friend that everything will be alright. That he'll keep him perfectly safe. That no one will ever harm him ever again.
"It's this way ...It's not long before the ghost eventually leads them to their destination. There's a large hole in the middle of the city square, a black pit that seems to be calling to him. That's the ghost's home, that's where he has to bring his friend in order to keep him safe. He ( ... )
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Darkness... he didn't want to return to the darkness.
"...I can't."
Disoriented, he takes a step back, eyes never leaving the black mark in the middle of the square.
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"Why not?"
He tugs gently on his friend's hand, almost pleading. Without the sword, his friend is all he has to hold on to. They can't stop yet. They're almost there ...
"It's not much farther, Cloud. Why are you stopping? We're almost there, Cloud ..."
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He knows he's tired, knows he doesn't want to run anymore, but he's afraid of oblivion. For all his psychological frailty, that fear is the single, raw cord that keeps him bound to the present.
"I don't want to disappear again."
The time he spent in the empty recesses of his damaged mind--where he had no sense of self, no sense of existence--was far more terrifying to him now, than a perpetuated hallucination.
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That's not true, the ghost knows. His friend is so much stronger than him. His friend stopped the great General, something the ghost - or rather, the real one that the ghost had taken the form of - had never been able to accomplish. He's afraid, his friend. Poor boy. The ghost tries to think of some way to console him, to convince his friend that this is the only way.
"But it's safe here, Cloud ... no one will find you here ..."
He tugs once more on the boy's arm before his strength gives out and he slides down to his knees, breathing heavily as he desperately pleads for his friend to come with. They're so close, they can't stop yet, they can't stop now ...
[ ooc; Zack to the rescue next tag? ]
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