a.&.n Hey there! Never thought I'd be writing something between Cloud and Sephiroth, but... well, here it is anyway. I'll tell you now, there isn't any 'hard' yaoi or anything like that since I don't think it's allowed, and besides I probably wouldn't have the nerve to write it. ;)
Comments, critisism- feel free to tell me anything, I won't eat you!
Just so things are clear, this is after the Nibelheim incident- Cloud and Zax are down in the Shinra Mansion basement, where Hojo kept them for experimenting or whatever he was doing. What if Cloud got a little extra help to get out...?
Disclaimer: If these guys were mine... well...they're not, they belong to Square. -sigh-

Tubes were rising from his thin body, and a machine was clamped over his mouth, feeding him precious oxygen. Greasy bubbles were slowly traveling through his long spikes of blond hair, sliding over his pale skin and popping under his fingernails, coiling around his legs grotesquely like serpents of shapeless beads, brushing against soft flesh, scathing sane skin and trailing profaning fingers of fire across his body.

M…o…m…

His eyes creased open. He had to fight it, he had to, even it meant putting up with the excruciatingly loud echoes that his heartbeat made in his head, and the droning buzz of the gruesome machine that was secured over half of his face, and also the fact that his entire body seemed to be floating in some blazing pool of bright green acid.

Tubes. Tubes, everywhere, floating and curling around his limbs, around his neck. They were what kept him alive, though they looked like blurred black snakes, waiting for the opportune moment to squeeze and break his frail body.

He thrashed and writhed, he tried to fight against the machine that let him breath, yelling and screaming into its twisting, mechanical depths. He wanted to seize those damn black tubes in his hands and wring them, wring them till his hands bled and the obsidian material shredded and allowed him the freedom he so desperately sought.

The liquid that he was steadily drowning in was burning his skin, it was gnawing away at every single screeching atom in his body- he was sure that his entire body glowed fiery red by now, and was almost surprised that his own blood did not taint the Mako crimson- he squeezed his eyes and kicked out his legs feebly, feeling his muscles strain as though they would snap, his bones seeming to extend to the point where he was even deprived a yell of agony.

M…om…!

His vision was red, as though someone had spilt blood red ink over his eyes. His breaths should have matched the frantic beats of his heart, but the machine was steadily pumping toxic into his lungs, and he found that the more panicked he got, the more his lungs seemed about to explode- his breaths were short and rapid, his ribs aching as his entire chest threatened to erupt-

There.

Something among the freezing hot swirls of green.

Tears leaked out of his scrunched eyes. Something was there, though actually noticing it cost him a severe throb at the front of his brain.

Something silver.

It seemed so far away, though it couldn’t be less than a foot away from the glass that held him entrapped in this acidic aquarium. The churning Mako made this dash of silver colour sway as though caught in some kind of slow-motion wind.

He was losing his mind. Nothing was out there. He was lost, lost in his own private little world of endless suffering, burning on the inside, on the outside, his eyes screaming and his mouth seeking forbidden life so desperately... he could taste blood, and feel himself turn almost inside-out, and no matter how much he strained himself, nothing could make it go away…

Then, the Nothing spoke.

A slow, slow voice, carried to his mind by some miracle. But it was soothing, and deep, like a sudden friendly current slicing through these endless emerald waves.

His eyes timidly cracked open. Could it…?

There, again! Again, the silver Nothing seemed to speak to him, the grave tones reaching his ears like some melodious piece of utopia.

Suddenly he wanted to break through his glass prison, to get to it, to let it lull him, soothe him, save him from all the scathing Mako, from all the snarling black snakes all around him, to save him from his own burning body. He wanted to smash the walls with his feeble hands, he wanted to break that ungodly connection that his spine had with those obsidian serpents and wrench the machine from his face.

The Nothing was oblivious. It spoke again, softly, brokenly, through the glass.

Cloud.

Tears and blood and emerald green Mako mingled and played around and around and around.

Cloud.

The Nothing laughed.

He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know where he was, what he was doing, what he was supposed to be doing; and he was sure that Time had rewound back to when he was some vulnerable little fetus floating in some unknown place, blind and deaf and dumb.

Well, maybe not deaf, after all.

Ha, ha, ha…

Cloud.

Everything was swirling around him- rushing through his mind, twisting around his nude body, slippery and wet and burning, making him some gross puppet with thick black strings. He didn’t know what was going on.

Ha, ha, ha…

Something scraped along the glass, and the metallic screech of protest vibrated in his ears like the impact of a million shards against his eardrums. He knew that sound, but… poison was in his veins, clouds of venom inflating his lungs, bubbling through his head. He couldn’t try to think straight without making precious arteries burst in his brain.

This had got to be Hell. There wasn’t anything worse than this. It couldn’t possibly get any…worse…?

Are you feeling at all defiant now, Cloud?

Defiant…? Why on Earth would he be feeling defiant? He was being massacred on the inside. He couldn’t very well try to stop his own innards from blowing up, now could he? The only desire that was crossing his shattered mind now was to curl into a ball and try to block out the pain, but he knew he couldn’t, and he tried as hard as he could to concentrate on that soothing voice- blocking out the feeling that some kind of horrible larva was slowly chewing up his insides.

Would you want to call for help, Cloud?

Oh, God, yes. If he could have, he would have yelled his agreement in desperation. Please, please. He focused his pathetic vision on that stain of silver in the midst of green, and for a moment, he almost strained his eyes enough to see two luminous turquoise spots, observing him like cold feline eyes.

Please. Please.

…Even to me?

Cloud?

He repressed a mute whimper.

Ha, ha…

You surprise me. You really must be in extreme pain to ask that of me.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He wanted out, even if it meant death, he wanted out right now.

Please.

Pity... I’m unsure as to whether or not I should help someone who backstabbed me, and who seems to hate me, profoundly

What the…? He could understand nothing of what the silver Nothing was saying, but that deep baritone seemed to be somewhat playful. Spears of fire were scraping their jagged ends against the inside of his head- he couldn’t take this anymore.

Though…

He suddenly glimpsed five black dots on the glass in front of him- it took him several painful seconds to realize that they were tips of black fingers (gloved, perhaps) pressing softly against the glass. Though it positively tore his biceps apart, he fumbled clumsily through the thick swirling green to reach the glass- and pressed his palm over that same spot, where the Nothing had set its fingers, on the other side.

A mere inch or so separated them. Though, a cold, unbreakable inch of glazed glass it was.

He willed it so hard that it was a surprise the glass didn’t shatter.

‘Deliver me.’

The voice was smiling.

I shall give you your chance, Cloud Strife.

Though…you will probably not understand the reason why.

There was that snarl of metal against the transparent prison wall, once again. His heart- or what was left of it- leapt to his throat in anticipation.

I admit…

There was a blind swipe of movement- and the walls of cold glass were suddenly riddled with crystal webs, cracks slithering ever upward as the Nothing slashed it recklessly.

…that I do not quite understand, either.

Mako poured out as the walls of his prison crumbled- and around him, a blinding white ribbon of steel was slicing through all of the obsidian tubes that intruded his body.

And then, he was falling forwards, helplessly… something black and cold caught him, wrapping around his naked trembling body- he was half-sitting half-laying on the blessed floor, shoulders supported by an arm and head tilted backward, eyes shut against the violent impact of freezing air.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

Fingers took hold of the instrument still clamped around his lower face.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

Gently, very carefully, the hand pulled away the machine- with a heavy whoosh of air, he was released from his artificial breathing aid.

Beep…beep…..beeeeeeeep…

He gasped. He almost- almost unclosed his eyes- but-

Veins in his neck suddenly stood out as he sucked in precious air, mouth agape and every single little muscle in his face contracted and contorted with effort. A strange, squealing kind of sound escaped his throat, making him sound very much like some frail, wounded kitten.

He… he had been freed. Freed.

Fu, fu, fu…

He could feel that arm supporting his shoulders, could feel cold fingers on his skin, could feel hungry turquoise eyes studying him. There were wet threads of silk on his forehead, and something long and steely cold against his side, and he could almost sense the Nothing looming over him, like in some predatory stance.

How you are at my mercy, Cloud Strife.

Bubbles were popping in some sickly chorus all around them. There was the faint, dying beep of that machine that had formerly been his sole way of survival, and there was a discreet drip of Mako that dribbled off of the “Nothing”’s limbs.

He felt feather-light. And he was cold now.

He was so cold.

Suddenly the arm drew away from his shoulders, and he was carefully set on the ground, gloved fingers securing his head and brushing unruly strands of soaked hair out of his closed eyes. The shadow that was cast over him moved away, and he heard light footsteps make their way around him, away from where his vulnerable body laid- tubes still entwined around his legs, rivulets of cypress-green Mako trickling down his face, like glittering trails of tears.

Wake up, Cloud Strife…

And then the Nothing was gone.

There was a crash of shattering glass, and a faint clatter and splash of a body breaking its way out of another glass Mako cell. His eardrums seemed to vibrate as frantically as fly wings as a fellow human ‘specimen’ let rip an entire peel of deep, hacking coughs, as if he too was having his ‘first breath’ after a long time.

“Cloud!”

… it was… Zax…

‘Cloud’ remembered his new companion dressing him and helping him up. He remembered phrases such as “So, you managed to get out on your own after all, huh?” being spoken as they both began to escalate their way back into the light of the outdoors.

Wake up, Cloud…

And just as the light hit him, just as he began to see things as they really were…

…that’s when he blacked out.

Ha, ha, ha…