Final Fantasy VII 1. Chapter 1

**Title: **One Last Reunion

**Fandom: **FF7

**Rating: **PG-13. Will change rating for later chapters.

**Warnings:** Post AC. AU-ish given my lack of effort in researching the Ultimanias. Angst warning for now.

**Characters:** Cloud, Vincent. Zack/Cloud implied. More to come.

**Summary: **One last reunion to right all that had gone wrong. Most FF7 characters appear.

A/N : I'm feeling a little melodramatic tonight.

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**v - εуλ 0009, End Summer**

Joyful sounds of bubbly laughter and childish giggles echoed throughout the ruined church, but Tifa Lockheart frowned with concern.

Just moments ago, the man who had miraculously woken up in the pool in the middle of the church, was smiling. It wasn't as radiant as, say, Cid's face-splitting grin, or the lopsided kind that spoke of Yuffie's brand of mischief. Rather, it was a small, confident smile he showed to Denzel to reassure the boy that it was safe to touch the glistening water.

And then, the smile was gone. Cloud stood motionless, frozen, as though he'd seen something shocking. The children around him continue to play and chase each other in the water, oblivious to the man who was probably responsible for saving all of them from Geostigma. Tifa followed his gaze, confused, but she didn't notice anything extraordinary besides a couple of children squatting near the wooden entrance doors, and the brilliant morning sunlight that shone through.

Tifa was distracted when a noisy splash of water sent droplets of water sprinkling onto her face. "Sorry!" someone called out. Caught surprised, she too, laughed at the children's antics.

When she looked up, Cloud had already turned his back, his strong arms gently carrying a small, frightened young girl into the water. When the girl realized that it was warm, and it brought soothing relief to her pain, she hopped in eagerly.

"Cloud…?" Tifa asked hesitantly.

He lowered his head then, letting soft blond hair hide the better part of his face from her view. However, Tifa could see a hint of upward curl of petal-pink lips through those long golden spikes. Cloud was smiling again, she sighed in relief.

"I'm not alone anymore…" he murmured softly, though Tifa wasn't sure if he was replying to her. Satisfied that everything was alright, she nodded once in agreement, and turned her attention to the adults who were now trying to climb into the cleansing pool to join the fun.

"… aren't I?" the whisper continued, unnoticed. His smile became a wistful one.

Nobody knew there were tears in his eyes on that day.

**-------------------------------------------------**

**v - εуλ 00010, Spring**

"So… Cid said you haven't been back at the Seventh Heaven for a while." A mere statement. The single sentence bore the weight of many, glaring, unspoken accusations and unasked questions.

Cloud sighed, and continued his descent down the steps outside the bar, while hauling several bags and packages over his shoulders. Inside the bar, the night crowd was beginning to become rowdy with the free-flowing alcohol. Sometimes, he could hear Barrett angrily slamming his gun-arm against the table, followed by girly peals laughter and shrieks. A few Corellian curses later, Cloud didn't doubt that Yuffie had won another round of poker. If she hadn't already smuggled out the group's materia stash, she'd already had won enough gils to actually buy a few.

"I've been busy with deliveries," Cloud answered neutrally, without giving any hint of emotion in his voice. He placed his cargo on the gravel path and began loading them onto Fenrir.

Just a stone's throw away, Marlene, Denzel and a few other children from the orphanage were playing firecrackers under the starry nightsky. Nanaki, who was already snoring comfortably against a wall, allowed them to use his flickering flaming tail as a lighter of some sort. Between the drunken shouts in the bar and the endless screaming and giggling on the other side, Cloud thought it was a rather noisy night for one of their not-so-often AVALANCHE get-togethers.

"Not staying for the night? Tifa will be disappointed, you know." Another statement. Cloud clenched his teeth and briefly wondered if the owner of Seventh Heaven had purposely sent this man to persuade him from his journey. He was good at reading people, and he was doing what Cloud was afraid of – by sending the blonde into guilt-trips and hoping he'd crack a little to reveal some secret hidden beneath that mess of spiky chocobo-gold.

Then again, Cloud was pretty good at deflecting such attacks. He'd been doing that since his childhood days in Nibelheim, and he'd certainly gotten better when he signed up as a new recruit in Shinra's boot camp. Unfulfilled promises, and all that.

"Nah… I've got another run tonight. I'll be back by the weekend," came the nonchalant reply, with a subtle tinge of defensiveness. His fingers worked faster to secure some straps over the larger packages on the bike, betraying his calm. He was already dressed in his usual navy blue SOLDIER-type uniform, with shoulder pauldrons, belts, boots and materia-equipped accessories in place. Any passer-by wouldn't deny that Cloud looked set for trip beyond the outskirts of the Midgar Plains.

"Hn, and you're going to miss the Revival Festival." Cloud's breath hitched, and his jaw tightened, annoyed. His inner voice vehemently lashed out at that last statement, because no– he wasn't _intentionally_ skipping the celebrations, and no– he wasn't being that reclusive selfish idiot hiding from everyone, as Yuffie had succinctly put it earlier that evening, and no– he wasn't blaming Tifa for anything nor was he having any so-called lovers' quarrel with her because damn it, he wasn't even her _boyfriend_, and no– he wasn't angry at himself or acting like an emo-wreck, and no– he just needed to go out tonight, against everyone's wishes and better judgement, to–

One deep breath, he willed himself to stay put on the ground before anything untoward happened. Not in front of the children, anyway.

You have to hand it to him, he's pretty good, Cloud mused inwardly as he glanced warily at the other man. He didn't know if he was trembling slightly from the sudden outburst within him, or because those crimson eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dark, now that they sensed a crack – a way in – through his mental defenses.

Cloud decided to leave the question unanswered. He could probably get away by being cold, unfriendly and unresponsive, unlike the other members of the AVALANCHE gang. He pulled harshly at the last few straps, and did a quick check on the side compartments that held his swords. He was intent on packing everything up as soon as possible and getting himself out of that suffocating situation.

**-------------------------------------------------**

Vincent Valentine remained standing where he was, leaning against one of the wooden support pillars at the front of Seventh Heaven. His gaze, unwavering and inherently predatory, never left the blonde. One black eyebrow rose as he eyed one of the packages which Cloud had secured last on Fenrir. It was a small bouquet of freshly-plucked yellow and white flowers with leaves still moist from that afternoon's drizzle, carefully wrapped in brown paper.

A change in strategy was needed. He adjusted his cloak to hide the smug grin forming on his face.

Cloud was about to mount his bike when he was startled by Vincent's next question. "I heard that Midgar Blooms are still quite rare, even around here," Vincent said softly while gesturing towards the said bouquet. It was a matter-of-fact statement, since the only places where they flourished were in some gardens which had been destroyed after Meteorfall, and the fabled Sector 5 church ruins. When the pool of healing water formed in there just half a year ago, the flowers disappeared.

Vincent watched as the blonde stood next to Fenrir, his fingers instinctively reaching for the soft yellow and milk-white petals. His face, hardened by anger earlier, gradually softened when he seemed to reminisce past memories.

"That's true. They're not as resilient as other types of flowers, and they don't last as long either," Cloud replied tenderly, caught up in his thoughts.

_Ah_, Vincent thought. He was catching onto something personal and dear to the blonde. He didn't want to be too intrusive, for fear of drawing him too far from his shell that he'd instantly slink back into his brooding self. Vincent didn't think the group would appreciate having another moody, brooding person onboard other than the existing ex-Turk.

"Perhaps they would, if given the chance to take root and grow," Vincent added cautiously. Cloud looked up then, his brows furrowed, uncertain. "To live, I mean," The raven-haired man continued.

Cloud "hmm"-ed in agreement, and he seemed engrossed with stroking the flower petals, his Mako-blue eyes glowing softly in the dark.

At that point, Vincent decided to prod a little further. Cloud had looked uncomfortable and restless during the day, but Vincent suspected it was more than just the rainclouds and gloomy weather. When Tifa blurted out that everyone at the bar missed him terribly, and that she was glad he would stay over, the blonde abruptly stood, muttering something about an urgent delivery he'd forgotten. When Cloud rushed upstairs to pack his bags and to pick up the so-called delivery packages, Tifa was on the verge of crying, while the rest of the group fell silent and concentrated on the card games they were playing.

"Fuck! You cheated!" Cid's foul-mouthedness never failed to amuse everyone. While some of the children outside winced at the swearing, Marlene and Denzel giggled loudly instead.

"Stuff it, old man! You suck at Cosmo poker AND Wutanese mahjong!" Yuffie's shrill reply was heard, followed by another round of laughter from the rest of the group, including Barrett and Tifa.

That seemed to relax Cloud; for a moment, his shoulder shook from stifling a grin.

"Your customer must be a very dedicated person. You don't often get to see so many Blooms in a single bunch," Vincent said, friendly and without any malice. A harmless, well-intended praise, that was all.

Cloud leaned against Fenrir, gazing upwards and contemplating the view of a cloudless nightsky above. "Yeah… I suppose it's for a special occasion," he replied in a dreamy voice.

Vincent thought he'd pried enough for that night, and would happily wave the blonde godspeed in his journey, but Cloud continued unexpectedly. "You know, Vincent, I'm remembering a bit more of the past with each passing day. They come back to me, while I'm on the road, while I'm asleep, hell, even when I'm in the shower," Cloud glanced at him, while making a sweeping movement with one gloved hand to emphasize his point. He was grinning.

"Good memories, I presume?"

Cloud shrugged, a faint pink flush creeping up his cheeks, and murmured, "Who knows?"

_Bashful, aren't we?_ Vincent thought.

"But there are still many gaps in-between. It's like watching a broken slideshow of the people I've met, of the things I've done, or the places I've been," Cloud said, as he finally mounted his bike. Vincent let him go; he'd probably already learnt a little more than he was entitled to.

Vincent waved goodbye at him. Cloud nodded and pulled his goggles down. "In time, Cloud. I'm sure they'll all come back to you in time," Vincent called out above the roar of Fenrir's engine.

As Cloud sped off southwards, Vincent turned around, feeling accomplished and perhaps a little grateful to have the privilege of sharing some personal thoughts with his friend. He would have to deal with Tifa, and the rest of the waiting group, later.

"Uncle Vincent?" Vincent felt tiny, sharp tugs on both sides of his red cloak. Looking down at the two adorable children, he gave his most assuring smile.

"Did Cloud go away again?" Marlene pouted and held onto his clawed fingers.

"Just for a while. He's gone to meet someone," he replied with a soothing voice.

"Who's that person?" the other child asked curiously.

"I don't know, Denzel. Someone very special, I guess." Vincent gave one last look at the direction where Cloud left, admired the serene nighttime scenery surrounding the Seventh Heaven, and then returned inside with Marlene and Denzel in his arms.

**-------------------------------------------------**

There was a full moon that night.

The familiar dusty landscape, every rocky outcropping and every barren cliff – they were all painted with shades of pale silver and inky blackness. Cool winds blew from the north, leaving behind eerie whistles echoing in the wasteland valleys below where he was. The ground beneath him was hard and gritty, decorated with dark splotches of shadow that looked suspiciously like dried blood or charred sand.

He could still smell the choking, acrid scent of fresh blood, burnt flesh, melted metal, refined mako and gunpowder smoke. He could still hear the deafening cries of men being slaughtered, and in particular, the bloodcurdling screams and later, the sickening gurgling sound of one man who was shot at point-blank and left to die a painful death; a horrific memory etched so deep inside his mind which he could, and would, never forget.

It was a surreal experience, indeed. Of all the memories he could have remembered, or tried to forget, the last moments for his long-gone friend, and his first true memories as an awakened, fully-conscious person after his escape from Nibelheim, continued to elude him. It was one of those fragments of memories which he desperately wanted back, and he bitterly cursed whatever experiments that were carved into his body and mind that made him lose that one precious moment of his life.

He wanted to see his friend for one last time. A breathing, living, bleeding person, not a ghostly apparition, nor a figure in a photograph. Cloud wondered how his fallen friend looked like when he gasped out his last breath, what were the last words whispered into his ears, how his cool, blood-soaked fingers must have felt when they touched Cloud's one last time, how those blue lips must have felt in that cold, unforgiving rain.

Cloud collapsed heavily onto the ground and leaned his back against the rusty Buster Sword, his legs spread out clumsily over some scattered stalks of Midgar Blooms and broken petals. He was exhausted from the unsettling imagery and obsessive, morbid thoughts that haunted him. Glazed, red-rimmed eyes continue to stare into space, as he poured another glass and threw the empty bottle away to join another two already lying nearby.

Just a couple of feet away, Fenrir remained a loyal, silent companion to his misery.

The winds picked up, sending the flowers drifting further and further away. In his drunken stupor, Cloud managed to snatch back a few stalks and he found himself staring at them, unfocused, and unsteady. He contemplated on whether to throw them into the wind, or crush them in his palm. He wondered how long the flowers will last in this arid land.

_Perhaps they would, if given the chance to take root and grow._

Cloud's brows furrowed.

_To live._

He took a full minute to weave together a coherent thought. The alcohol was fast working its way into his system, Mako-enhanced or not.

"Well, why not…" he mumbled, his words heavily slurred. Gloved fingers scraped and dug shallow holes in the cracked, dry earth and he clumsily planted the stalks into them. For a while, he chuckled at the silly sight of a few awkward stems and flowers jutting out from the ground in front of him.

Then, at the stroke of midnight, the Kalm Revival Festival fireworks were let off, but Cloud was already beginning to doze away. Heavy-lidded and thoroughly drunk, he could barely make out the colourful flowers patterning the nightsky, and the distant exploding sounds resounding throughout the northeastern plains.

Cloud raised his glass; a toast to the fireworks and to the flowers he'd just planted, and to a poignant memory that would remain with him, forever.

"Happy birthday… Zack."

Nobody knew that Cloud smiled that night – a first contented smile in a long time.

**-------------------------------------------------**

_A/N : The next chapter/sequel is in the works, but only if my muse is fed enough mocha cake with extra nuts and icing. Please feed the muse! XD_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** One Last Reunion – Chapter 2

**Fandom:** FF7

**Rating: **M, NC-17 from this point onwards.

**Warnings:** AC-DoC timeline. AU-ish given my lack of effort in researching the Ultimanias.

**Characters: **Cloud, Zack, and other FF7 characters.

**Summary: **One last reunion to right all that had gone wrong. Most FF7 characters appear.

A/N : I'm feeling a little naughty tonight.

A minor cross-reference to my other fic "A Changing Situation", marked (1). Nothing significant, really :-)

Sections in _italics_ are inner thoughts and voices.

**-------------------------------------------------**

_His silent pleas for the unending thirst to be slaked had gone unheeded. He curses whatever gods in the heavens for this terrifyingly abominable act in his hands, and yet, at the same time, he begs the demons in Hell for more. _

_More. _

_That raw primal hunger must be satiated._

_He growls and snarls in frustration, hot saliva dripping from teeth-bitten lips, the muscles on his back rippling from physical exertion, and his sweaty body shaking from that sweet rising heat. His fingers dig deeper into the younger man's hips, leaving in their wake cruel bruises and crescent-shaped marks all over the pale skin on the curvaceous flesh._

_He is marking this man. Only his, and his alone. _

_Snapping his pelvis forward in one quick, brutal thrust, he howls in pleasure, intent on drowning any cries from the younger man beneath him. However, there is none; that man lay on his back on the moist grass._

_Naked, motionless, silent. Not even a whimper._

_The younger man's dull, half-lidded Mako-blue eyes stares into the nightsky, his face neither showing any fear nor terror, his limbs, boneless and limp, spread-eagled on the damp ground like a pathetic ragdoll. There are fingerprints and scratches on them, some of which are covered with dried blood._

_It is unnerving. Is his hunger so unbearable that he'd do _this?

_Briefly, he recalls a half-eaten pot of rabbit stew, and a couple of apple cores lying nearby. That was dinner, his feverish mind thought. _This_ is different. He cannot comprehend the sudden change in his situation (1)._

_The urge rises up within him. Again. He is still rock hard even after that brief interruption in thought, but he desperately needs release from that scorching sexual heat in his groin. Still sheathed to the hilt in the younger man, his own cock pulses in tandem with his racing heartbeat, throbbing from the built-up pressure, demanding more friction._

_He doesn't want to see that face anymore. He wants to tear away that sorrowful image of a helpless blonde _boy_ pinned on the ground, spread wantonly below to sate his appetite. He's disgusted at painful reminders of the innocence that had been taken – whether the angry-red bite marks on the neck and collarbones, or those uncried tears in softly glowing Mako-blue eyes, or, to his dismay, the messed-up, grime and dirt-crusted blond hair that had been meticulously cleaned with river water earlier that evening. _

_Truly, he's a monster. As all SOLDIERs are._

_He quickly pulls out then, his breath coming in feral grunts, and his indigo-blue eyes glints with newfound lust. He does not care if there is blood smeared on his cock, or on the younger man's ass. In a single swipe of strong arms, he turns the other man around violently, nearly twisting the frail body. He stares for a moment at the bloodied back, aghast – even the stones and sand on the grassy ground did not give mercy to his prey – no, his partner. _

_His friend. _

_One whose face he wouldn't have to watch when he violates, pummels and drives so hard, so deep inside, ruthlessly._

_Tears and sweat mix freely now. He pulls up the younger man's hips and proceeds to mount him from the back. His cock slides in with little resistance, the entrance already lubricated with pre-come and blood. He unconsciously lets out a throaty moan when he feels the much-needed tight warmth encasing him, the spasming muscles pulling him deeper, tugging and milking him. His grip on rational thought is fast fading away._

"_I.. I'm sorry.." he murmurs as he struggles one last time to grasp the meaning of his dire situation. _

_But it didn't matter; the heat had already overwhelmed him by then._

_And so, it begins once again._

_More. _

_That raw primal hunger must be satiated._

**-------------------------------------------------**

Cloud Strife woke up the next morning to bright sunlight on his face, a warm breeze picking up… and a loud, keening scream. It wasn't a few heartbeats later that he realized _he_ was the one screaming, and he abruptly gasped for breath, effectively silencing that deafening noise echoing off the canyon walls far below.

He groaned when the first jolts of pain pounded inside his head. _Damn, a hangover_, he muttered to himself while his leather-clad fingers clutched at his forehead. A few empty bottles clinked noisily against some rocks and rolled off in the direction of the wind.

Cloud slowly rose from where he sat, and with much effort and a few shuffling steps, he steadied himself against the rusty Buster Sword. His mind felt like as though it was covered in cotton – fuzzy and blurred, and he felt off-balanced as wobbly knees tried to hold his weight. His back was stiff from leaning against the broadsword for the whole night, and he didn't feel rested at all.

Cloud blinked rapidly, willing the sleepiness and bleary eyesight to go away. Small, tiny wisps of a nightmare from the night before started forming inside his head.

However, before he could put his thoughts together, he realized that he was _hard_. No, not just hard; he was very _aroused_.

_More. _

_That raw primal hunger must be satiated._

Cloud stiffened at that unexpected thought. He stared at the tent in his pants, his cheeks began to flush, and he wondered if that nightmare… was in fact, a _pleasant_ dream? He couldn't recall the details, but it definitely shouldn't feel _erotic_ if it had him screaming for his life.

_Ifrit's horns, how long had it been since the last time?_

His cock throbbed for release. The rough denim of his pants rubbed the cloth-covered hot flesh with each twitch, forcing him to gnaw on his lips to stifle a moan.

_A cold shower wouldn't be enough_, he thought.

Mako-blue gaze strayed and settled onto the few stalks of Midgar Blooms that remained where they were planted the night before, defiant against the harsh elements in the arid climate.

Flowers usually brought him back to reminiscence the past, no matter what the circumstances were.

And_ usually_ the dreams of his past involved observing himself from a third-person point of view; whether as the little blonde boy running away from the other neighbourhood kids by climbing up the highest cliffs around Mount Nibel, or the depressed teenager forced into the dreaded cobalt-blue Shinra MP uniform. Back then, his days were filled with back-breaking drilling, bone-crushing training with the bigger nastier boys, tiring night-long patrols, or getting the misfortune of being assigned to the frontlines of SOLDIERs marching to war…

…_and _usually, _on Fridays, especially after the last daytime guard duty, he'd find himself facing brick-red mortar and his chest pressed hard against the ice-cooled brick walls. Through the alcoholic haze from being _forced_ to down more booze than his scrawny 14-year old body could handle, he often wondered dazedly why his hair was thoroughly messed up, when his uniform became wrinkled and dirtied with mud patches, how scrapes and bruises appeared on his elbows and knees – and why, he often wondered last, why were his pants pushed down to theankles. _

…_and _usually, _there would be least half of dozen of Third Classes crowding around him in some quiet, dimly-lit, dank-smelling alley. Glowing Mako eyes would leer at him in the dark, the stench of beer and whiskey overpowering his senses, followed by hushed whispers of "Hurry, hurry, it's my turn", and then unclipped fingernails would rake his smooth pale thighs, someone's teeth grazing soft pink nipples, a huge, thick, slickened cock rubbing his ass-cheeks, deliberately missing the target in-between, and sliding down, down and against his own stiff arousal. He'd scream and bite between sobs and drunken curses, throw wild punches and short stabbing kicks at his assailants, but alcohol left him weakened and flailing uselessly against the brick wall._

_But Zack would show up. Cloud always held on to that thin, but bright ray of hope. His lifeline. _

_First Class SOLDIER Zack Fair, would show up with blazing violet-blue eyes, yelling angrily and waving the Buster Sword menacingly with his hands, sending the Third Classes scurrying into the darkness with tails between their legs. And then, Zack would tenderly gather the shaking blonde boy in his arms. All Cloud cared was that he was safely tucked against Zack, blanketed by the familiar body scent mixed with sweat, the soothing rise and fall of a broad chest against his cheeks, and a strong heartbeat lulling him into an exhausted sleep._

Cloud let his finger run lightly along the hardened length when his mind focused on the memories with Zack, which involuntarily sent tiny shudders of pleasure coursing up his spine.

_He never really knew what happened after Zack saved him. Numerous times. Did Zack cuddle up with Cloud in the First Class' bedroom? Or did Zack act as the good friend and dutifully carry him back to the trooper barracks… after the cuddling?_

_Did they even have_ sex?

_Were they even_ lovers?

Cloud flinched at that question. Another gap in his memories.

He allowed his palm to cover his erection, engulfing and shaping that hard, pulsating flesh underneath. He imagined Zack's hand was on his own, the strong, tanned, calloused fingers guiding the movements in pleasurable ways which Cloud intimately knew best. Zack's hot breath on the nape of his neck. Zack's lips suckling at that sensitive spot under the earlobes. Zack's rising body heat warming his own in one way or another.

_It's been a while, hasn't it? With Zack._

Cloud wasn't sure if he actually voiced out that statement, or if his still-Mako-Jenova-muddled mind was _talking _to him. Again. These crazy – no, _psychotic_ – episodes were appearing more frequently in the past few months.

His cellphone went off with a loud "Victory Fanfare" ringtone at that moment, breaking him away from his daydreaming state.

"Damn," he cursed softly, as he clumsily rummaged his pockets for the noisy contraption, ignoring that desire that had nearly peaked. Finally, those thick-gloved fingers managed to pull it out. When he saw that it wasn't Tifa or anyone from the Seventh Heaven, he shoved away all thoughts about his lingering predicament and flipped the cell open.

"Yeah, Reeve?" he rasped over the phone.

"C-Cloud? Thank goodness you— hey, are you alright? You don't sound too good." There was static obscuring the voice; the sign of thunderstorms looming ahead.

Cloud gave an audible cough, hoping that the man on the other end of the line wouldn't suspect that anything was amiss. "It's nothing, just the dust.. and sand…" _and the fact that you woke up screaming from a nightmare that got you so bloody hard and you're just thinking to reach inside there and jack yourself off, trying to remember what that nightmare – no, correction, dream – was all about as you try to visualize what you did as you grabbed that sweet ass and raped that boy again and again, and —_

Cloud jerked violently at the sudden onslaught of very dark, violent thoughts.

"Fuck…" Cloud pinched the spot between his eyebrows as the pounding headache returned with vengeance, reminding him that he was going to have a rough morning.

"Cloud?" More static. The storm was near.

"I'm.. it's nothing." He cleared his throat. "What's up, Reeve?"

"There was an attack on Kalm yesterday during the festival," Reeve replied in a tone that barely disguised a hint of alarm.

"Anti-WRO insurgents?"

"It's worse, Cloud. We've never seen those.. things before. It… It was a fucking _massacre_ down there last night! Two-thirds of the town had been burnt to the ground, the last body count up at oh-seven-hundred hour was fi-- and at least two hun-- missing or abducted-- 'incent was there and--" the voice was distorted by hisses and crackles.

Cloud thought of Nibelheim. A town gone up in flames, leaving only bitter, painful memories of losing everything that he'd known in his childhood, and the fate of a couple of survivors gone horribly, horribly wrong.

He shook his head, trying not to drown himself in that long-forgotten sorrow, which he'd hope had gone together with last night's alcohol. Climbing up Fenrir unsteadily due to his hangover, Cloud's grip on his cellphone tightened and he set himself for a long journey ahead.

"The signal's breaking up. Keep talking, Reeve. I'm on my way."

Up ahead, the morning sky had already darkened tremendously from massive lightning-streaked rainclouds gathering to the north.

_-------------------------------------------------_

_A/N : Damn. That was painful. It was unintended, I swear! (slaps the naughty muse)_

_Please feed the muse more mocha cake. Extra hazelnuts and almonds with a generous dollop of icing will be wonderful! If you put more sugar, I'm sure there'll be something nicer, sweeter and fluffier in the next chapters…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** One Last Reunion – Chapter 3

**Fandom:** FF7

**Rating: **M, NC-17

**Warnings:** DoC timeline and AU. PWP-ish.

**Characters: **Cloud, Zack, Vincent and other FF7 characters.

**Summary: **One last reunion to right all that had gone wrong. Most FF7 characters appear. Post AC and DoC, AU. WARNING Contains scenes of Dark and Evil Zack with a helpless Cloud.

A/N : I'm feeling a little perverted tonight with visual imagery. A minor cross-reference to my other fic "A Momentary Rest", marked (1). Nothing significant, really :-) Sections in _italics_ are inner thoughts and voices. Please R&R!

**This fic is officially AU. This chapter was written based on one particular FMV from DoC (I don't even own or play the game), and then I realized the whole thing's gone horribly off-tangent when I found the game script much, much later. **

**So, for all intents and purposes in regards to DoC, let's just assume that (1) the WRO headquarters had been incinerated after the DG counterstrike, (2) the heroes (including Vincent and Cloud) and WRO survivors actually gathered at some remote location to lick their wounds and regroup prior to the famous assault, and (3) the story and roles of female DoC characters have been intentionally screwed up because this is YAOI lala-land. **

OKAY let's get on with the smutty PWP!

**-------------------------------------------------**

_Night falls. Their motel room is small, dark, and cold from an earlier thunderstorm (1). _

_A shiver runs up his spine when he feels the chill in the darkness._

_Zack didn't realize that he had switched on the bedside lamp until he hears a loud moan on the other end of the small bed. _

_His breath hitches when he opens his eyes, and he feasts upon the sight that greeted him. He is straddling the thighs of a younger blond man who looked no older than a teenager. The blonde's oversized gray shirt had been pushed up to his chest, pink nipples barely peeking from underneath the cotton cloth, and his underpants bunched up at the ankles, revealing an enticing vertical expanse of pale youthful skin glowing in the dim yellowish light, with the hollows between collarbones, slight abs and the navel dipping shyly into shadow. _

_A warm, living body that yielded willingly to Zack's touches. It is a mouth-watering sight._

_Caressing the boyish cheeks with the back of one hand and carefully tucking away strands of spiky blond hair, he is mesmerized by how soft the flushed skin feels, the way tiny specks of light swirl in pleasure-hazed Mako-blue eyes, and how those kiss-bruised petal-soft lips parted, hot breaths coming out in little white clouds._

_Cloud. Recently, he is able to remember the _boy_'s name whenever he succumbs to _that_ raw, primal urge on cold nights such as this._

_Not always. But sometimes._

_Zack has lost count of how many nights he found himself sharing a bed, a blanket or just plain body heat with Cloud since they were on the run. But he knows that when the nights are cold, when he is not too exhausted from their journey, or when he isn't beating the shit out of himself for doing _things_ – things he had resignedly told himself that was out of his control – to his companion, he would find himself lying on top of Cloud. In one way or another._

_To hell with dreams and pride. He's a monster. As all SOLDIERs are._

_Zack remembers that his other hand is still holding his hard, throbbing arousal against Cloud's softening one. Two cum-slickened cocks pressed against each other in Zack's large, calloused palm. He had stroked both of them easily, but he was feeling rather generous by directing the best and most sensuous touches towards Cloud's. His Cloud._

_No wonder the boy moaned so loudly before. Twice tonight. Zack has no qualms of eliciting a third one._

_Zack could not resist letting his fingers trace lazy patterns down and past the slender neck, briefly lingering on the smooth, slim chest and gently pinch twin rosebuds that had perked up from Zack's tender ministrations. _

_He dips a forefinger into the valley of Cloud's navel, scooping a viscous sticky drop from the puddle of white. Lifts for a taste, and finding himself licking it clean like a cat._

_Slightly warm. Tanginess of a sexually-aroused male. _

_Sweetness of apples and boy-innocence._

_Tasty._

_Something awakens. Burning. Boiling._

_Zack feels the familiar presence and he immediately grits his teeth. Anticipating, waiting. His cock rises a little higher than before, and he feels his blood rushing with a quickening heart rate, responding to the sudden surge of adrenaline and arousal singing in his blood._

_A voice beckons._

_More, it calls out to him._

_That raw primal hunger must be satiated._

_Zack cuts off a groan through pursed lips, feeling that heat blossoming deep inside him at an inhuman speed, finally pooling in his groin. Breaths coming faster, he locks his violet-blue gaze on Cloud's, who is still staring off-space, and the predatory glint he knows that is shining from his eyes conveys an unspoken promise to the blonde. _

_Prey._

_Zack pulls off his nightshirt and yanks away his loose pants, snarling only when one of the legs snagged at his knee. He feels sweat breaking out on his back and trembling hands as he violently pulls Cloud closer. One quick flip of strong wrists, he has the boy's thin legs hooked over his shoulders. He dives forward and leans hard against Cloud lightly-muscled thighs, bowing the boy into an uncomfortable U-shaped position._

_Zack tilts up the boy's chin with a strong, bruising grip on the jaws, before crushing his lips against the other. There is no tenderness in that contact. Only soaring lust and a terrifying prelude to the blonde's fate, as tongue enters forcefully through petal-soft lips and mashes against teeth and inner cheeks. Zack inhales deeply, sucking lungfuls of air from the smaller boy between shoving lips and grinding noses in a frenzied, heated one-sided display of sexual dominance._

_Mako-enhanced senses detect an unmistakable whiff. The scent of fear. He could not help but to grin ferally amidst the wet, saliva-covered kisses that left Cloud with swollen, cut lips. Finally, deciding that it is enough, Zack releases Cloud's lips with a sloppy slapping sound._

Mine… only mine and mine alone,_ he growls hungrily. His hands busied with raking fingernail trails all over the blonde's chest, the curve of his sides, and the slim waist. Zack feels the heavy weight of his cock bobbing hard in mid-air, aching for sweet friction and the bliss of being engulfed in youthful body heat._

_More._

_Zack fervently nuzzles the blonde's thighs, nipping, biting and sucking harshly, intent on leaving marks on the unscarred skin. His fingers having thoroughly explored the boy's body, moves down to twirl the boy's pubic curls, almost tenderly combing the fine blond hair there._

"_Za.." he hears the blonde moan. Zack ignores the sound. He spits on both hands, and rubs up his cock to form a crude lube of saliva, pre-come and traces the boy's cooling semen. Zack shudders when his fingernails brushed the veins lining the thick hard flesh, and downwards to caress achingly heavy sacs. Feverish with desire and certain that he is ready, he guides his rock-hard arousal into the sweet, inviting ass. _

_A semi-erect cock that had already cummed twice comes into view. Zack's smile twisted into a cruel grin._

"_Hurry, hurry… it's my turn," he says, rubbing his cock greedily, demanding access to the pleasure which he craves._

"_Zack.."A weak whimper this time. Cloud is staring at him, unfocused. Is he pleading for an end to the madness? Begging for more? Zack couldn't identify which; he is fast drowning in the fiery need to break into the blonde, and is well past the point of listening to anything but his pulsating desire. _

_Zack watches through glazed, wide Mako-glowing eyes as the bulbous purple-red cockhead slowly, ever so slowly, penetrated that hot entrance. The slickened flesh slides in easily once he is past that stubborn ring of muscle. He could feel Cloud stiffen with pain. He didn't prepare the blonde at all. _

_Unable to hold back any longer, Zack thrusts forward relentlessly. A soft cry was muffled, left unheard._

_He feels pleased._

-------------------------------------------------

_Sometime during the night, Zack realized he had turned Cloud over to lay face down. He didn't want to see that intimately familiar face anymore – the painful expressions reminded him too much of the terrible sins committed by his hands. He wonders if it happened after their third round. Or was that the fourth? He couldn't recall; the past hours had been a blur, the details incoherent and slowly slinking into the depths of nighttime shadows. Vision darkens. Sweet, merciful fatigue had finally overcome him. _

_The last thing that Zack remembers is the vague feeling of lying atop the back of the blonde, his strong arms wrapped protectively around the smaller body in a tight embrace. Sweaty, blissfully sated and still sheathed deeply inside the blonde. The last vestiges of a mind-numbing orgasm dribbles weakly from his pulsing, but softening arousal, leaking out to the bedsheets when the night's worth of passion turned out to be too much for the younger man to handle._

_Their motel room is small, dark, and cold from an earlier thunderstorm._

_A shiver runs up his spine when he feels the warmth surrounding him in the darkness._

-------------------------------------------------

Cloud woke up in the middle of the night. The clock ticked on, showing him the hour being an ungodly 3 a.m. in the morning. He mentally did a quick check on himself. He was wearing his blue SOLDIER-type uniform, the sleeveless top and denim pants still securely clinging onto him, and without the belts, pauldrons and other accessories as expected for a reasonably comfortable nighttime attire. No cuts, no bruises, and no after-effects of status ailments. He wasn't screaming, he wasn't hyperventilating and he wasn't thrashing on the bed. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead and limbs, probably due to the faulty air-conditioning. One small lamp was lit, casting a faint light in the room. First Tsurugi was at his bedside, standing against the wall exactly the way it was before he fell asleep. Everything seemed normal.

It was just a sudden instinctive reaction to open his eyes, similar to when one's biological clock sets off for an early start to the day, except that it was at an ungodly 3 a.m. in the morning.

And he felt sticky _there_.

"Ramuh's beard!" he cursed in a low, sleep-raspy voice, and stumbled awkwardly out of the single bed, nearly tripping over the blankets that twisted around his legs.

Cloud quickly grabbed the extra pair of pants from his pack and ran to the bathroom. He was extremely glad that the group had decided to give him his private suite with an attached shower and bathroom. He silently thanked Shiva for cold edge and grumpiness he'd shown earlier that evening when the group gathered at the inn. Everyone thought he needed his personal space, and Tifa didn't object to that, thankfully. In actual fact, Cloud just needed time to sort through his thoughts and to seek the much-needed calm before the coming war.

Outside the small inn, airships and ground vehicles were being armed and prepared under the cover of darkness. Squadrons of surviving WRO soldiers camped and patrolled around the tiny, secluded but mostly-deserted unnamed town that was located between Kalm and their final destination, the Deepground-infested Midgar.

Cloud had just slipped into a fresh new pair of pants when he heard a soft knock.

"Cloud?" Vincent's baritone voice was instantly recognizable, even behind closed doors.

"Y-yeah," he called out with a restrained voice, not wanting to create any commotion in the dead middle of the night. He stuffed the soiled pants into a bag and kicked it under his bed, before treading lightly to the front of the room. Smoothing his spiky blonde hair as best as he could, he hoped he would look at least presentable and _not_ suspicious.

Cloud turned the door knob carefully, expecting to see one, or perhaps a few, concerned faces. He was a known loner and prone to snapping at people who had come too close, but friends at AVALANCHE still worry for the blonde.

Cloud was mildly surprised, though, when he found himself staring at stoic, glinting crimson eyes framed by deathly pale complexion and long black hair. Clad only in his black jacket and pants, Vincent blended almost too well to the darkness in the inn's faintly-lit hallways.

"I heard some noises a while ago," the ex-Turk said, breaking the silence. Cloud grimaced inwardly, uncertain of what Vincent had actually overheard over the inn's not-so-thin walls. The raven-haired man had acutely keen senses, after all.

"I-I'm fine. Really. I'm okay. Just a, er.. ah.. vivid nightmare," the blonde stammered back, having not upped his defenses in time. He was nervous, like a suspect in an interrogation room with spotlights aimed at him – although it was only a single statement from the ex-Turk.

One second too late; Cloud mentally kicked himself for blurting out that magic word.

Vincent arched an eyebrow, gripped the door frame with a clawed hand, and leaned into the entrance. Predator-like crimson eyes searched the blonde's face for telltale signs of… something. Cloud shivered at the closeness, and the way the raven-haired man seemed to tower above him; a looming shadow in the night. He could feel warm breath tickling his neck, and his skin prickled with the sensation of the other man's body heat. The loud hammering in his chest drowned the silence of his bedroom. For a moment, Cloud felt his strength falter and he panicked.

_Prey._

Cloud staggered back, which prompted the ex-Turk to step forward. With his good hand, he steadied the blonde with a firm grip on one lean forearm. Cloud muttered a quiet word of thanks as he gingerly padded back to the bed. The floor seemed to feel chilled against his bare feet, although summer was at full swing at that time of the year.

Vincent poured a glass of water for him, which he gratefully accepted. He downed it rapidly and placed the glass on the bedside table, feeling a little more relaxed and calmed.

"You know I don't remember the details. These nightmares.. damn, I'm so fucked up," he muttered, fingers raking his hair out of habit. Mako-blue eyes downcast, he felt guilty and embarrassed for showing his weaker side.

Of all the members in AVALANCHE, Vincent was the only person he had confided to about his troubled sleep. There were recurring nightmares about the past, which he had no memory of when he wakes – that was as much as both of them knew. Cloud was certain there was more to his torment; soft, indistinct voices whispered words at unexpected times, leaving him confused, and more often than not, shaken. Compounded with the gaps in his memories, and that ever-present threat of Sephiroth, Jenova or some cataclysmic Shinra-made menace surfacing _again_ in this world, his guessed that his troubles were far from over.

There was a creak, and Cloud looked up to see Vincent closing the door. He anxiously craned his neck, wondering if—

"Don't worry, Tifa, Yuffie and Barrett are still asleep. Reeve and Cid are still finetuning the attack strategies up in the Sierra," the ex-Turk answered curtly.

"Ah," Cloud had nothing in reply to that, and shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the bed. Vincent was a perceptive man, indeed.

"I've got sharper senses than the others, you know," he added. Cloud nodded in understanding. _So, that's why he was able to hear... whatever noises from this room, while the others didn't_, he thought.

Cloud realized belatedly that Vincent had intentionally flicked his gaze towards a spot underneath the bed, before giving an odd look at the blonde.

_Damn._

Cloud froze for a second, before instinctively squirming further into his bed and pulling the tossed blanket across his legs. He stared at the floor, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks, and he briefly wished he could shrink and disappear underneath the bed covers.

"It's… never been like this before," Cloud stuttered, wincing when that sounded more like an embarrassed squeak. _Lies, Cloud. You wake up so many times in the night, at first terrified, but lately you're pleased with your dreams, aren't you, boy? How does it feel to ravage that warm little body and claim it for your pleasure? Hmm? Do you like it? Oh, you do, of course you do, you've cummed so hard. You could have screamed and shouted, you could have cried and whined, but it feels good, doesn't it, Cloud?_

"Do you—" _want to talk about it? Oh no, it's a secret. No, Cloud._

"No!" Cloud shouted heatedly, and gasped when he realized he was too loud. His fingers grasped at the blanket, twisting it until the edges threatened to tear. Vincent stared at him, obviously startled by the outburst, and stepped back.

_It's my dark little secret. Mine, the dreams, the pleasure._

_Mine… only mine and mine alone._

"Like I said, I don't recall the details anyway," Cloud said grimly, rubbing his forehead wearily as he feels the drain from that _psychotic_ episode. Voices talking to him inside his head. _Go away. Shut up. Please. Leave me alone, Vincent Valentine._

The ex-Turk would understand, he thought. This wasn't the first time the ex-Turk caught him waking from a nightmare.

Cloud yelped when a small sachet landed on his thigh. The words "Dream Powder" were printed on the cloth. He glanced up expectantly.

"You know we've an important mission at sunset tomorrow, and we need you at the frontlines of the first ground assault squadron. Get some rest, Cloud," Vincent stated, arms crossed and with neither anger nor worry in his voice. Part of Cloud was relieved that the ex-Turk didn't pursue the issue, but he was also a little disappointed.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," Cloud replied with an apologetic tone. He was to lead the ground assault in his trusted Fenrir, paving the way for the missile-launching trucks and distracting the DG ground forces long enough for a successful airstrike. Hopefully, that would also buy enough time for the hoverboards to drop safely and infiltrate the Tsviet's den. And then he and his teammates will have sole responsibility of shutting down the Mako reactors for the final showdown. Cloud sighed at the burden resting on his shoulders.

"We're counting on you," Vincent said with a little smile, and that caught Cloud off-guard. An rare encouragement. Having spent much time with the mysterious raven-haired man, Cloud could more or less discern the underlying meaning to the ex-Turk's words : I'm counting on you. I trust you. I believe you can make it. Place your trust in me. _Trust me._

He wondered if he could trust the ex-Turk to _that _extent.

Vincent wished Cloud a good night's sleep was about to leave him to his rest when the blonde thought of something.

_Oh no, it's a secret. No, Cloud._

"Vincent?"

The raven-haired man paused as his clawed hand reached for the door. His back still facing Cloud, Vincent cocked his head and waited for the blonde to continue.

"I.. what do nightmares actually mean?" Cloud asked, and added hurriedly when he thought Vincent didn't understand his question, "To you, that is."

Cloud imagined the perplexed look on Vincent's face from his sudden and unexpected question, but he was surprised (again) when the ex-Turk simply shrugged.

"Forgotten memories from the past. Things your mind and body didn't want to remember."

A pause.

"Or a foretelling of a future. Things that you might do. Destiny," Vincent added with a wave of his clawed hand, "Who knows?" There was a hint of a smile in the voice.

"The… past," Cloud whispered, already lost in thought and reminiscing some of the more pleasant memories of his days as a Shinra trooper.

"Sometimes, what they show is the reality… and what you remember, that is the illusion."

Cloud looked up, but the door was already firmly shut.

-------------------------------------------------

Vincent stood outside the closed door, leaned heavily on the wooden frame and released the breath he had held for far too long. Sweet Odin's blood, he was certain he saw Mako-blue eyes flashed brightly and turned into cat-like slits for a millisecond during that outburst.

He wondered if the younger man noticed the slight waver in his footsteps when he left the room.

He also wondered if Cloud realized he had overheard him crying out a name that had not been mentioned for the past three years… in the pained, choked and _lustful_ way that the ex-Turk knew too well.

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_A/N : I admit, I don't know where this is going (thwacks the Confused!Muse). Like I said, this is a PWP. Feel free to give ideas for upcoming chapters! Oh ya, the magic word that Cloud mentioned was "nightmare"._

_Anyway, please keep feeding the muse with cake! If there's bitter dark chocolate or coffee beans on it, you can be sure it's gonna be a dark, evil road ahead… but if there's strawberries and candy sprinkles, then maybe things will become sweeter and fluffier…_


End file.

Final Fantasy VII, Angst, Drama