jukeboxhound_backup | fic: imperfect tense ch.8 (ffvii) (Reply)

Past memories or Jenova’s voice.
Thoughts.

Imperfect Tense

Hades’ Phoenix
Betaed by Mad Violinist & artimusdin

Cloud leaned against the metal wall of Ragnarok’s interior and stared out a small window, watching the shadow of the ship flicker over the blue surface of the ocean. He’d crossed his arms out of habit, as well as to try quelling the slight uneasiness in his belly. He didn’t think it was all motion sickness, though, considering he had more mako than blood and the Ragnarok was a fine, well-made piece of technology.

In a strange way he welcomed the nausea—it made thinking about much else rather difficult.

He was crouched close to the truck’s tailgate in a miserable huddle, his stomach rolling and jumping with the stones under the vehicle’s tires. Zack was speaking with the General in a low undertone and glanced at Cloud with a sympathetic half-smile, but the cadet was too—

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Cloud twitched slightly, eyes sliding to one grinning Selphie Tilmitt.

If she’s the pilot, but she’s standing out here…

As if hearing his thought the woman winked at him before resting her elbows on the windowsill, looking out over the sea. “We’re on a standard airway, this baby’s on autopilot for now.”

Reassured (Cloud really never had liked anything other than chocobos and motorcycles—they were small, fast, and gave the rider a sense of having some measure of control), he looked away, ready to dismiss her.

“You know, I grew up by the ocean. We all did,” she said quietly, referring to the other SeeDs. The note of nostalgia in her voice sent a pang of envy through Cloud’s heart, who didn’t have much to be nostalgic about himself. “When Matron went to bed we’d all sneak out to the lighthouse and tell ghost stories. Seifer was the best at it, of course, and he used to make Zell cry. He only managed to scare Squall a few times, though, and they always ended up beating the shit out of each other.” She giggled. “Did you have anything like that?”

Was this girl after something? Cloud’s stare was fixed on the ship’s rippling shadow, eyes narrowed from the sunlight and from his thoughts. “…I don’t remember.”

Thankfully, Tilmitt didn’t press the issue. Instead she leaned forward until her nose was pressed against the window glass and her warm breath left trails of condensation.

“If you’re right…I’m afraid for Squally.” She turned her head to look at Cloud, nose still squished awkwardly against the window. “Yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s our asshole, you know? We all fought with him against Ultimecia.” Her voice dropped. “Seifer’s an asshole too, but…it’s just not the same without him. It kinda hurt when he ran off to be her Knight.

“And Squall…I don’t think Squall ever really forgave Seifer for just leaving like that. You know that scar he’s got on his face? He got that from Seifer, and he gave Seifer, like, a matching one.”

The glass was cold against his overheated skin, like the snow he used to play in, to hide in when the other children tried to pelt him with snowballs. It was so cold but he felt so warm that his sweating body was wracked with violent tremors and though he could hear Zack it was faint and indiscernible through the thick glass and thicker mako, and his world had narrowed to a single word, a little mantra like the sound of God and wasn’t that ironic—

—whywhywhy sephiroth why

Cloud’s gloved hands dug into his upper arms. Tilmitt was watching him with big green eyes that were more calculating than most people might’ve given her credit for.

“I know I’ve only known you for, like, a couple hours, but you’re cute and you have a kick-ass sword. If Squall or Seifer really do end up…turning, or whatever—“

“I don’t make promises,” Cloud told her coldly. Not anymore.

But before he could disappear, he was suddenly approached by Trepe and Leonhart himself. The others had all been clustered near the door to the cockpit, whispering, when Cloud had gradually migrated to the window. He tensed, able to immediately sense that slight unnatural taint to Leonhart’s presence now that he knew what it was.

The Commander handed him a thick dossier without preamble. “What do you know about this?”

Cloud flipped through the papers, recognizing it as a report on monster statistics.

“This came from Estharian scientists in the northern regions and near Dollet,” Trepe told him. Not that Cloud knew where the hell that was. “These monsters are either an evolved form of currently known species, or new ones altogether. We want to know if it’s a coincidence, or if this might be related to Jenova somehow.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as coincidences, Cloud mused. That, and don’t piss off mad scientists.

A number caught his eye, and he paused. Brows furrowing, he looked more closely at the data and the few blurred pictures. He’d never seen these species of monster, but something about them was familiar.

Then he cursed in a violent hiss, making Trepe start in surprise.

“These monsters have the Jenova factor,” he muttered. “She’s little more than a sentient virus, and functions on a similar, albeit more evolved, level. Her cells can overwrite the genetics of host cells and force mitosis, like a cancer.” Cloud had seen some of Hojo’s other experiments between periods of unconsciousness and mind-numbing agony—monstrous creations that’d once been human turned to amorphous globules of organic matter, terrible beasts that looked like something straight from a horrifying nightmare, with bodies of flesh and metal that should’ve been entirely impossible.

Sephiroth was the genius of the Before Crisis trio but Cloud had never been stupid. He’d learned many things through Hojo’s constant muttering and crazed ranting, and the man had taken a sort of perverse pleasure in telling his subjects exactly what he planned to do.

“What happens?” Trepe asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“Both the body’s genotype and, generally, phenotype are altered,” Cloud muttered, more to himself. He wondered idly what had ever become of the people who’d managed to take the photographs in the Estharian report. “Brain activity itself changes. Reaction time is shortened, reasoning capabilities elevated. Muscle structure is strengthened. But the specimen may develop detrimental side effects, including uncontrolled bloodlust or insanity.”

“Fascinating, fascinating. No one appreciates my work, no one else understands the beauty of a being that has transcended its origins. Idiots. Fools.”

Both women looked disgusted, though Trepe hid it better. Leonhart wasn’t looking at the report, though, but at the blond, with those piercing grey-blue eyes. Cloud knew he was hiding behind analytical bullshit and ignored the commander.

“Basically, they’ve turned into mean fuckers that are damn hard to kill,” he said flatly. Leonhart snorted and smirked at the thought that things wouldn’t stay mundane for much longer.

xxx

Before Selphie could drag off Cloud when the Ragnarok landed, Squall pulled her aside.

“Keep an eye on him,” he told her. “If he says anything strange, does anything suspicious, or shows an unusual amount of interest in something, I want to know.”

“Yessir,” she said seriously, recognizing his tone of voice as one of Absolute Authority. She added slowly, “You don’t trust him.”

He didn’t bother with such an obvious answer.

She smiled and put her hands behind her head, her nunchuks swinging lazily from her grip. “He strikes me as the kind of guy you can trust with your life, but not the truth.” Her smile turned lascivious. “And he’s really cute.”

Squall glared at her, and she cackled as she threw a sloppy salute and scampered off to terrorize the newcomer. With a long-suffering sigh, Squall ignored the maintenance crews running around Balamb Garden’s hangar and slipped inside the cooler hallways of the school, making his way towards his office. He passed several students on his way, ignoring the sharp salutes and in some cases the poorly-concealed ogling, and cynically figured that their first mission would erase the childishness rather effectively.

Xu was sitting behind his desk when he entered the office. She stood with a practiced salute and a tight smile.

“Commander.”

“Headmistress.”

“We’ve received more reports of those monster sightings up north,” she told him, “and more applications for new cadets. Galbadia has sent another demand for SeeD restitution, which of course will be denied.”

Had she been anyone else her presumptuousness might have irritated him, but Squall let it pass.

“Thank you, Xu.” A blinking red light caught his eye, on the lower corner of the vid-phone. He ignored it for the moment and faced the older woman. “Myself and the same people that accompanied me this morning will be leaving again tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred for an unknown amount of time. I’m going to place you as honorary Commander until my return. I’ll leave details. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, sir.” She bowed slightly, and took her leave.

Squall seated himself in the leather chair behind the desk and pressed the flashing light.

“You have no new messages,” the machine told him.

Frowning, Squall switched the line to his private one, knowing that only a handful of people had his personal number.

“You have one new message.”

Rinoa’s face suddenly appeared on the vid-phone, and Squall couldn’t stop the shocked widening of his eyes. Her hair, normally so sleek and smooth, was an absolute mess and her pale face was drawn tight with tension.

“Squall, help me,” she pleaded, and her voice was rough and gravelly

(it was soft and caring, and he could hear the smile behind it)

and it pinned Squall to his chair. “I can’t—I can’t control my spells, and I think that if I go outside I’ll hurt someone…Squall, it feels like there’s something in my head, but I don’t think it’s Ultimecia or Adel…it feels old…”

She was rambling, and he could see that she was struggling to keep the hysterics from her words, her actions, like a paranoid schizophrenic.

When she hung up, the vid-screen went dark, and Squall felt Shiva’s fury. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d opened himself to someone that he’d loved, but with whom he couldn’t fall in love—and that even though it’d hurt like hell, it was better for the person to leave. It was a bitter pill to swallow to know that he hadn’t been good enough for her, even as a Knight, and even worse when he couldn’t put the blame of failure on her.

Not again. I won’t…I won’t fail anyone else.

He rose with cool purpose and deftly pressed the button for the intercom that ran all over Garden’s facilities.

“All personnel returned from Esthar are to report to the Commander’s office immediately,” he said calmly, and folded a hand over LionHeart’s hilt for something stable and familiar as he waited.

The door to his office opened, but it was just his secretary, opening her mouth to address him. She thought better of it when she saw his expression and made a hasty exit.

She shivered.

xxx

When the Ragnarok had approached the place called Balamb Garden, Cloud had been transfixed at the window, momentarily forgetting himself and gaping openly. Zell—all but Leonhart had insisted on being called by their first names—had spent part of the trip explaining what SeeD and Garden were and their purpose, both in theory and in practice, which had segued into the battle against the Sorceress Ultimecia. When the martial artist tried describing Garden, his face bore a look of fond awe, but Cloud hadn’t expected this.

It was one of the most beautiful structures he’d ever seen.

He knew the Nibel Mountains as a wild, untouched, and savage sort of beauty, and Midgar’s grey landscape had been the cutting edge of technology. But Balamb Garden looked like something both half-mechanic and half-alive, like it was made of glass and dreams by some divine hand.

The only problem with it, if Zell could be believed, was that the whole place could fly. Whatever architect thought that buildings, usually so firm and reliable, could be capable of movement should be taken out back and shot.

When the Ragnarok landed, an excited Selphie appeared from seemingly nowhere and decided, without any outside input, to take Cloud on the grand tour. Zell volunteered to go as well, but Quistis and Irvine opted out for more pressing matters.

Leonhart, of course, had already disappeared.

With nothing else to do at the moment, Cloud trailed the two happily chattering SeeDs through the complicated corridors and vaulted halls, thinking that if he hadn’t known Yuffie he might have thought these two couldn’t possibly be mercenaries. The more he saw of the place, the more he wished that he could have trained here instead of the utilitarian, unimaginative ShinRa barracks. Beyond a few double takes when the cadets saw the enormous sword slung over his back, almost none seemed to question Cloud’s presence; he guessed that as a mercenary training ground, the students had grown used to seeing the faces of unknown recruits and random soliciting politicians.

It also wasn’t hard to guess that between their commander’s black leather and a tattooed security officer’s spiky hair, Cloud didn’t seem particularly out of place. He felt his interest pique further when Zell pointed out the training facilities with a knowing smile, and he memorized the location for future reference.

The two SeeDs included him in their fast-paced conversation without requiring much more than two- or three-word answers, and which seemed to center around training curriculums and weapons—safe, casual, mutually interesting topics that avoided anything heavier than Selphie’s nunchuks.

“You guys’ve got it all wrong, man,” Zell said with his hands curled into fists dramatically. “Weapons are cheating. Anyone can swing a blade and chop off someone’s limb, but it takes real talent to wield the body.”

Selphie giggled. “I think Irvy’s got both areas covered.”

Zell flushed slightly, much to the woman’s glee, and Cloud felt his lips quirk into a small half-smile.

“Well, what do we have here?” the martial artist said loudly, hurrying the other two towards what looked, smelled, and sounded like a cafeteria. “I do believe it’s hotdog day!”

“I want pickles!” Selphie shrieked excitedly, and Cloud found himself being dragged rather unwillingly into a student-crowded lunchroom.

“Move it, bitch,” someone snarled, and Cloud was shoved unceremoniously to the floor. The half-filled tray in his hands spilled all over himself and the tile.

Keeping his head down, simmering with anger but knowing that he couldn’t do anything, he silently began picking up the scattered dishes. When a hand seized the back of his shirt and hauled him upright, he had to resist the urge to lash out and scream in fury.

“You all right, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, not looking up. His hands clenched at the offhand nickname.

The stranger snorted. “Bullshit. Why don’t you pick yourself up and beat that asshole up?”

When Cloud was silent, didn’t even raise his eyes, the man sighed. “If you never fight back, how’re you ever going to get stronger?”

The blond was pulling his hand away from Selphie’s surprisingly firm grasp when he heard an announcement over the intercom.

“All personnel returned from Esthar are to report to the Commander’s office immediately.”

He recognized it as Leonhart, though there was a strange note in the man’s voice that wasn’t mechanical error. A glance at the two SeeDs and their frowns showed that he wasn’t the only one to hear it.

“Something’s wrong,” Zell muttered, hotdogs and pickles forgotten.

Their path to the Commander’s office was shorter than Cloud would’ve expected after traipsing all over Garden, and painfully silent. He couldn’t stop wondering what might have happened in the short time since they had returned from Esthar.

Has Jenova attacked? There was no guarantee that Cloud would be able to sense her anymore; he’d spent so much time in the Lifestream, after all, even if he had been able to feel that wrongness about Leonhart.

They met Quistis and Irvine on the way, the blonde woman looking pale and worried. When Selphie asked what was wrong, she just shook her head and walked a little faster.

The office was cold as they all entered. Cloud recognized it as magic-induced, the same kind that he’d seen briefly in Esthar, and he wondered again what sort of magic Leonhart had. The gunblader was standing behind his desk, facing the door with his hands at his sides. If Cloud thought the man was chill before, he was now nothing but lethal ice.

“Squall? What is it?” Zell asked worriedly after closing the door behind them all, but Quistis spoke first with a slightly tremulous voice.

“You’ve seen her too, then?”

Squall nodded once, sharply, and turned the vid-phone on his desk around so that the others could see its screen. He pressed a small red button.

“Squall, help me…”

With a tendril of guilt and pain Cloud was faintly reminded of Tifa, from the woman’s heart-shaped face and thick black hair to the beautiful almond eyes, but he forced himself to focus on what the woman was saying.

“Squall, it feels like there’s something in my head, but I don’t think it’s Ultimecia or Adel…it feels old…”

“Jenova,” Cloud murmured without thinking. Squall gave him a sharp glance but said nothing until the message ended.

“So it is her.”

The SeeDs all turned to Cloud (too much attention) and he stared at the now empty vid-screen impassively.

“…It’s likely,” he said finally. “Especially if she’s the Sorceress that made you a Knight.”

Zell had mentioned her as well on Ragnarok, a woman named Rinoa. Cloud didn’t tell them that he knew exactly what she was feeling, how Jenova made a human mind feel like a tiny insect overshadowed by her cosmic omnipotence. Her voice was alluring, seductive, wise—so powerfully ancient, and painfully truthful.

“Fuck,” Zell swore loudly, sending his fist into the wall.

“Now what?” Quistis asked the gunblader softly.

“This call came from Galbadia three hours ago. We need to bring her in immediately.” Alive or dead was left unspoken, but silently understood.

“How’re we going to find her?” Irvine asked.

“I have an idea where she is,” Selphie volunteered, her face stony. “We’ve been sending letters occasionally. She’s at one of the reconstruction sites, but I’d have to get the address from my quarters.”

“Selphie, Irvine, I want you two to leave immediately. Find her.”

The two SeeDs nodded.

“Quistis, Zell, Strife, we will follow the previous plan and leave at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow morning for Dollet if Rinoa isn’t found by then. If she’s left Galbadia because of this Jenova, then she’s as likely to be where the monsters are as anywhere else.”

Cloud had read between the lines during Zell’s spiel on the Ragnarok and figured that Leonhart and Rinoa had been involved at one point, though for how long or how deeply he couldn’t guess. Either way, he thought Leonhart was taking this extraordinarily calmly.

“Selphie, Irvine, you two are dismissed. The Ragnarok is under regular maintenance, you’ll need to take the train.”

The two SeeDs saluted smartly and left.

“Strife, I want you to take a full physical with Doctor Kadowaki.”

Instantly Cloud felt his jaw tighten. “Why?”

“Because I want a full analysis of your stats. If you’ve been in the Lifestream for as long as you claim, then I want to know that you’re in perfect form before I start trusting you with lives.”

It was a reasonable request, and one Cloud had no intention of following. He’d complied with this seventeen-year-old commander’s orders thus far without complaint, but he would sooner run himself onto the Masamune (again) before going anywhere near a doctor. Especially one he’d never met before.

“No,” he said flatly.

The temperature dropped a few more degrees until his breath came out as faint mist. Leonhart looked ready to kill.

“If you won’t cooperate, then you’ll go by force,” Leonhart said as matter-of-factly as though stating the weather. Cloud smirked bitterly, knowing that in a real fight even these experienced SeeDs wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“No, Leonhart, I won’t.”

“For Hyne’s sake, what’s the problem?” Zell snapped, looking between the two with a pinched expression on his tattooed face.

Cloud didn’t reply. He was watching Leonhart, seeing the black-gloved hand twitch slightly in what seemed an aborted move for the gunblade at his side, and allowed his own right hand to rest lazily on the handle of his sword over his head.

“What, you got an issue with doctors or something?”

“Yes,” Cloud said, surprising Zell into silence with the straightforward answer.

“Doctor Kadowaki is as professional as they come,” Quistis broke in firmly.

That’s what they said about Gast. And once upon a time, they said that about Hojo, too. And the Turks. And ShinRa. And Sephiroth.

“The nature of the Lifestream allows a body to remain suspended indefinitely,” he said quietly (I’m sorry, Sephiroth, I’m sorry I failed to kill you the first time, I’m so sorry). “I’m fine.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Zell offered cautiously. “What would you want in return for going to Kadowaki?”

How about LionHeart shoved up its owner’s ass.

It wasn’t that Cloud thought a mere doctor and a couple of SeeDs could hold him down, the way Hojo had been able to restrain his former teenage body. It was the smell.

The olfactory sense was the strongest one tied to memory, and the acrid sterility of hospitals and infirmaries brought back the half-mad mutters and cold hands…too-bright lights that blinded his eyes and left him without a way to hide from the pain on those steel tables. A little voice in his head (what was one more, there were so many already) told him don’t be weak, just do it and get it the fuck over with, but it’d lost the power it once wielded against him as a child. He’d always been weak—he had broken, even, and it was no use pretending otherwise.

But he compromised with, “When we find Jenova, you’ll listen to my orders. Understood?”

It was also a reasonable request, for he knew Jenova well, or at least better than any SeeD. It seemed Leonhart understood that, and after a long moment the gunblader nodded sharply. Both men relaxed their stance, though Cloud was already starting to have to suppress the beginnings of a blind panic.

Maybe she’ll pat you on the head and give you a lollipop, kiddo.

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