#maybe Hojo through a coup??

[fearlessmonk]

"How did we even end up in this mess?"

His question was a valid one; Tifa could feel the frustration welling in her chest. She pounded the door once more before turning back to Rufus with an exasperated sigh. Arms folded as her head tilted and she spoke to him again.

"That's what I want to know," she huffed. She had been separated from the party, thrown into the room. When she awoke, she was surprised to see him of all people. There was a tendency to keep a bit of nervous distance from the man.

"I'm surprised to see you, of all people." The monk commented. "Piss someone off, huh?"

[fallintosanity]

cloud has no idea who specs is but if they’re the one who normally wakes up noctis, he has a newfound admiration for their determination

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

That night, Cloud dreamed of Aeris dying, over and over again, the silver blade sliding through her chest, the way she folded, the peace on her face despite the agony in his heart. 

Until a deep voice called his name, and then he slept; and when he woke up in the morning Sephiroth was leaning against his desk again.

* * *

“So,” Noctis said. “What was that about yesterday? You kinda… freaked out.” 

Cloud and Noctis were in the elevator on the way to Noctis’s first mission of the day. Cloud looked away, watching the numbers tick down to the ground floor. “Bad memories,” he said. “Sorry.” 

“Oh.” Noctis touched a hand to his lower back, the same place he’d been massaging after yesterday’s sparring match. “I know how that goes.” 

Cloud shrugged. The elevator doors opened to the building lobby and he led the way out, deliberately changing the subject. “Where’d you learn how to fight so well against a Buster sword?”

“My, uh… The guy who taught me how to fight,” Noctis said. “He uses a sword like that.” 

“Is he from Banora?” Cloud asked as they emerged onto the streets of Sector 4. Angeal had been the original owner of the Buster, and Angeal was from Banora; maybe it was some kind of heritage design. 

But Noctis shook his head. “His family is from… from the east. Like mine.” 

“The Mideel area?” 

Noctis started to answer, then stopped short, his attention caught by something off to one side between a pair of neat little penthouses. Following his gaze, Cloud saw a golden snout poking up over the edge of a fence. Noctis ran over, breaking into a delighted smile as a floppy-eared dog reared up to put its front paws on the fence. “Hey there,” Noctis murmured, offering a hand for the dog to sniff. “How are you, buddy?” 

The dog woofed and licked at Noctis’s hand, and Noctis began petting its ears. Cloud followed him over, amused, and leaned on the fence while Noctis cooed and fawned over the dog. After five minutes or so, Cloud cleared his throat pointedly. Noctis looked up, a flush of red coloring his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said. Giving the dog one last scratch behind the ears, he started walking again. 

It wasn’t until later, while he was watching Noctis dispatch yet another tangle of razorweed, that Cloud realized he’d never actually answered the question about where he was from.

* * *

Without Noctis to babysit, no missions or classes of his own, and Kunsel and Zack still out on their mission, Wednesday was yet another dull day. Cloud found himself drifting around the ShinRa building, aimless and unsure what to do with himself. Hojo was dead, Jenova’s remains destroyed. Sephiroth still needed watching, but that was a passive task: when the general wasn’t being paraded around the continent by the President as a reminder of ShinRa’s might, he was stuck in endless meetings about the future of the SOLDIER program. 

There was an irony there, Cloud knew; ShinRa executives and scientists dancing around the subject of Jenova and the truth of Sephiroth’s origins as though he hadn’t learned the whole story in Nibelheim months ago. But Sephiroth hadn’t told the Turks just how much he’d found out, and if the Turks suspected he knew more than he was letting on, they weren't saying - so everyone was playing a little game of don’t say anything that might upset the super-soldier. 

Sephiroth thought it was funny, his amusement leaking through their connection occasionally. Cloud could sense how much he enjoyed the word games, the challenge of seeing how far he could push the scientists and the Turks without revealing just how much he knew. It added a bit of interest to the otherwise painfully long and boring meetings. Cloud, on the other hand, was just nervous about the whole thing. Sephiroth probably wouldn’t go insane from anything they’d say in one of those meetings, but then, no one had thought he would the first time around, either. But Cloud couldn’t do anything about it, which left him with nothing to do at all. 

He was considering wandering down to visit the church again - even if Aerith wasn’t there, he could tend the flowers - when his PHS beeped. Flipping it open, he saw a request from Lazard to report to the Briefing Room immediately for a mission. 

Cloud frowned as he tucked the PHS away and headed for the elevator. Ever since that one dangerous meeting, months ago before Nibelheim when Lazard had casually suggested a coup against the President and Cloud had turned him down, Lazard had been strictly business with Cloud. But there wasn't any business to be had today that Cloud knew of. He thought about how Lazard had watched him last week after Noctis’s first mission. Was Lazard going to try suggesting sedition again? He knew the gist of what had happened in Nibelheim; did he think Cloud would be more open to joining him in a revolt after that?

But when Cloud reached the Briefing Room, Lazard was on his PHS, harried and waving an arm as he spoke. His expression turned relieved when he saw Cloud and he ended the call. “Commander, good, I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “We received an urgent request for help from Rocket Town, on the northwest coast of the West Continent. A pride of coeurls was spotted yesterday just outside the town. They’ve apparently taken over a partially-built barn on the town’s outskirts.”

He scooped a mission briefing packet from the table and handed it to Cloud. “This is yesterday’s report. The barn is intended as storage and operational facilities for ShinRa’s rocket program, so the presence of the coeurls has brought the program to a halt. We're getting the details into the mission system now, but considering the situation, we wanted to deploy someone right away.”

Cloud skimmed the packet. At least six coeurls had been spotted, which meant there were likely several more that hadn't been seen. Still… “Coeurls are usually handled by a team,” he said carefully. It was possible to fight coeurls solo - he’d done it before - but with how fast the beasts were, it was safest to have someone covering your back. Especially for a group this large.

“I know, but this is beyond the abilities of most Thirds, and we don't have enough Seconds available,” Lazard admitted. “The increase in monster activity near the reactors has stretched them thin. I’d like you to take Caelum with you - from what I've been hearing, he’s going to rival your ascension through the ranks. If he’s as qualified as everyone seems to think, this will be a good test for him.”

Cloud glanced up at Lazard. The director sighed, pushing his glasses back into place. “If I could spare Commander Rhapsodos or General Sephiroth, I would. But the President is…” He broke off, frowned, and tried again, in the stilted voice of someone attempting to avoid saying things they shouldn’t. “The President has requested that one of the two of them accompany him at all times, and both when he’s traveling. I could send Commander Hewley with you, but I understand you would prefer a different partner.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that. And if Lazard wanted to use this as an opportunity to see if Noctis was ready to be promoted to Second, it wasn’t a bad mission to choose. What was more intriguing was that comment about the President - but Cloud doubted Lazard would say anything further on that. Maybe he could ask Genesis later. He said to Lazard, “All right, I’ll do it.” 

“Good,” Lazard said, looking relieved. “Thank you. I’ve arranged a helicopter to leave in an hour. You’ll have to track Caelum down - I sent him a message at the same time I contacted you, but haven’t heard back yet.” 

Cloud nodded and left, heading down to the floor that housed the Third Class barracks. He might not know Noctis that well yet, but he knew enough to guess the man was likely to still be in his room. Sure enough, when he asked a Third hurrying through the hall where to find Noctis, the boy said dourly, “Just listen for the alarm clock. I don’t know how Salim hasn’t murdered him yet.” 

Salim must be Noctis’s bunkmate. Cloud found the bunk with the alarm blaring through the door and used his First Class access code to override the room’s lock. It was nearly ten AM, but the room was pitch-black thanks to the lack of windows, and even Cloud’s mako-enhanced vision could make out little more than a lump on the lower bunk. He flipped on the light, but if Noctis was under those blankets, he was so thoroughly buried that not even a lock of hair showed. 

Cloud turned off the alarm, then cautiously prodded the lump. “Noctis?”

His hand found a shoulder and he shook it, but got no response. He shook again, harder. Still nothing, so he tugged the blankets back until he found Noctis curled up underneath, face buried in the pillow. If Noctis noticed the sudden lack of covers, he gave no sign; if his chest hadn’t been rising and falling steadily Cloud would have worried he was dead. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Lazard a louder alarm wouldn’t help. 

A wash of homesickness rushed over Cloud as he shook Noctis again, harder - he’d used to wake up Denzel like this. Though unlike Noctis, Denzel usually at least showed some sign of life by now. He kept shaking until Noctis stirred and made a vague unhappy noise. 

Encouraged, Cloud said, “Noctis. Wake up,” and nudged him again. 

Noctis groaned, one arm untucking from beneath him to flail blindly in Cloud’s direction. “Fuck off, Specs!” 

Cloud caught his arm and hauled on it, dragging Noctis half-upright. Only then did one grey eye slit open behind messy black hair. Noctis glared blearily at him, recognition finally dawning. “You’re not Specs.”

“No,” Cloud agreed. “We have a mission. We’re leaving in forty minutes.” 

Noctis yanked against Cloud’s grip on his arm, though he still wasn’t awake enough to be effective. “Lemme sleep,” he muttered. “I already did my five.” 

“Five is the minimum,” Cloud said. “You can do up to twenty every five days before they’ll stop you.” He pulled Noctis further upright, dragging him half off the bed and forcing Noctis to put a foot on the floor or dangle from Cloud’s grip on his arm. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you at the helicopter pad in thirty-five minutes.” 

Noctis whined - actually whined, a drawn-out nasal sound like a child, and didn’t move. Cloud hauled Noctis fully off the bed and shoved him toward the room’s tiny bathroom, waiting until Noctis staggered inside and the shower came on before leaving to head back upstairs. 

Forty minutes later, Cloud was waiting next to the empty helicopter, more than half expecting to have to go back downstairs to retrieve Noctis. But the elevator dinged and Noctis stepped out, followed by the Turk Reno. Noctis was awake, more or less, in uniform with his broadsword slung across his back alongside a standard-issue ShinRa trooper assault rifle.

“A gun?” Cloud asked, surprised, as Noctis approached. 

Noctis held up his PHS. “Mission briefing said coeurls,” he said around a yawn. “They’re too fast to fight at close range.” Cloud’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Noctis’s eyes narrowed. “Something wrong with guns?” he asked.

“No,” Cloud said. Noctis wasn’t wrong, exactly - the coeurls’ speed was exactly why ShinRa usually sent a whole team. “But SOLDIERs don’t normally use guns.” 

“The footsoldiers do,” Noctis pointed out. “And one of the best fighters I know uses guns.” 

Cloud shrugged. He didn’t really care what weapon Noctis used, as long as it was effective. Guns weren’t Cloud’s first choice against coeurls, but Noctis had demonstrated remarkable skill with a variety of blades. If he was as good with a gun as he was with swords, it should be fine.

Noctis threw a sharp glance at Reno, as if expecting him to comment, but Reno held up a hand lazily. “I’m with you,” he drawled, and flipped open his suit jacket to reveal the sleek black pistol tucked into a shoulder holster next to his truncheon. “Melee’s great ‘n all, but whatever tool you gotta use to get the job done.”

“Exactly.” Noctis said. He brushed past Cloud and climbed into the helicopter. 

Reno followed, sliding into the pilot’s seat. “You comin’, Strife?” 

Cloud nodded. “Let’s go.”