"The Planet isn't willing to let death take away its greatest weapon. If Cloud can't save the past, then he'll be damned to watch history repeat itself."

Author: Hades' Phoenix
Co-conspirator/Beta: artimusdin
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (Game, AC, some CC. Sorry, no DoC.)
Main Pairings: eventual Sephiroth/Cloud+Zack/Aeris
Warnings: R, TimeTravel; angst, battle violence, angst, torture of the Hojo kind, angst. Did I mention angst? With intermittent little bursts of fluff.
Word Count: 1,327

Because dina and I are whores for time-travel fics.

Eir’s Tomorrow

Prologue

Author: Hades’ Phoenix
Co-conspirator/beta: artimusdin

It took one year, eight months, and three days for the Planet to die after Jenova’s final defeat.

For the first time in centuries, a vague wind of optimism had swept through village and city alike. The convenience of mako derived energy was gone, but the rain had come and suddenly things were green again, green and growing. And maybe it would take a while for things to settle and for technology to get back on track, but everything was alive in ways it hadn’t been before.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way. Quick-spawning creatures were the first indication. When frogs croaked with two heads and three-eyed fish went belly-up, when snakes started crawling on vestigial legs and water-lilies rotted through their blossoms, it became obvious. It didn’t take long before birds were developing teeth or extra wings and trees bore fruit dripping a black, viscous fluid that seared human flesh—whenever trees managed to grow at all.

Moving from place to place every few days meant that Cloud was one of the first to notice the changes. He’d stopped at a small stream in one of the jungles near Gongaga to wash the monster gore from First Tsurugi, but the moment his bare fingertips touched the water, he jerked them back with a sharp hiss. It felt like the time he’d accidentally spilled industrial cleaner over his hands, making his skin crawl and his nerves scream in protest, and he quickly used the bottled water he carried to rinse off his hands. Finally Cloud sat back on his heels and stared thoughtfully at the stream, wondering how he could have missed the complete and utter silence in what should have been a bustling jungle ecosystem.

Then reports of new monsters starting coming in to WRO headquarters. Not the usual monsters that sported tentacles or poisoned, pointy teeth, but monsters made of darkness, things that smothered a person and left behind an empty shell. Monsters impervious to all but the most powerful of weapons. The day they came to Edge, they came in through the vents. The pipes. The electrical wiring. They came in and slithered like oil over pavement and metal and bodies.

The worst part was that Cloud could hear them. Not in an auditory sense, because the monsters were as silent as the shadows they appeared to be, but because of the void that surrounded them. Cloud always knew where someone was, could feel in the back of his subconscious the faintest touch of that little bit of Lifestream in a living being—but these things were little black holes. Not darkness but something worse than that, something that possessed nothing to reflect the light or contain a will.

Cosmo Canyon was the first to fall. Nanaki was last seen throwing himself at the tide of the Plague, buying just enough time for the last survivors of his village to escape.

The Gold Saucer and North Corel were the next to lose contact with the outside world. When Cid and Vincent were abruptly cut off in the middle of a report from Rocket Town, it was all Cloud could do to keep the others from running out to find their bodies. Because he knew bodies were all they would find, at that point.

Negotiations between WRO’s Neo-Midgar and Wutai were interrupted when Yuffie led her people to battle against the Plague; it was well-known by now that it was nearly impossible to destroy something that had no form but Wutai was a proud country that had been broken once already. It refused to bend down again, no matter how futile their efforts were. So Yuffie died with her nation while the rest of the world desperately tried to barricade the ruthless onslaught of the monsters.

(It was Cloud’s private opinion that the ninja-queen had fought to the bitter end partially because she hadn’t been there in Rocket Town when she was needed, but—as usual—he kept the thought to himself.)

While Tifa grew thinner on the meager rations and Marlene lost her smile, Cloud went to Aeris’ church and pleaded for answers. When Denzel came up to him and asked very straightforwardly what happened to the souls when the Lifestream was destroyed, Cloud went to Aeris’ church and raged.

It was supposed to get better. You promised. You said it would be better.

All he got in reply was an echoing silence, like someone screaming just below the edge of his hearing. The only thing that could make him forget for a little while about the not-screaming and the not-life and the not-anything was Tifa’s arms, the pale skin stretching over her ribs because she didn’t have more mako than blood and her rations always seemed to end up going to the kids. He didn’t love her, not like that, and maybe it was cruel irony that it was only now he was able to give her anything more than empty promises. He didn’t love her. But Reeve had killed himself just last week and Barret was starting to lose it and there just wasn’t any hope, not when it finally became obvious that the Planet was losing its own battle with death. It was all they could do to grab onto this last shred of humanity.

When the Plague came for them, it was unnaturally silent. It surged like a black tide in the streets, over debris cobbled together into ramshackle barricades. Guns retorted and swords clashed, but the battle-cries of hollow-eyed humans were stopped by the darkness as they died unnaturally silent deaths. Cloud could feel the pinpricks over his body as every heart simply stopped in mid-beat, the vague whispers of Lifestream that made them alive dissipating like a heat wave. And when the souls of Marlene and Denzel were crushed out of existence, when the brilliant, fragile light inside Tifa faded, Cloud felt something in his head crack.

(A memory came to him from a long time ago, before everything got burned up and torn down. It’s the Jötnar, his mum whispered as the wind howled outside the window, but they can’t hurt you in here.)

Something in his head cracked, and he wasn’t really Cloud anymore but something more; Cloud had been a lost soul but this new incarnation had a purpose, and that was to take as much of the Plague with the dying Planet as he could.

Cloud was the only creature left alive to see the air turn to fire as it condensed into falling droplets of black water; he watched the sky break as sunlight was no longer refracted in an atmosphere that didn’t exist, the blue turning into a starry darkness that opened like a great maw over the horizon. He witnessed the Lifestream splintering, snapping apart like a taut rope and tearing the landscape apart.

Through the crack in his head he could finally hear the screaming as the Cetra flickered, evaporated like so much morning dew under starlight no longer blocked by sunlight or human pollution. There was painterrordespair and loveregretanger, and what remained of Cloud’s body was burned and flayed with everything else; what remained of him was thrown into the Lifestream flailing in its death throes.

(If this was how life ended, perhaps it was better never to have existed at all.)

But someone didn’t agree with that, or maybe it was several someones, but either way the Lifestream suddenly changed its direction. Purpose, it said to him, keening through the shattered remnants of his mind. Rebirth.

Once upon a time Cloud might have questioned that, demanded some straight answers for once, but he wasn’t Cloud anymore, not really, because the Plague had won and the Planet was dead.

It took a year, eight months, and three days for the Planet to die after Jenova’s last uprising, and that was how the story ended.

Until Cloud woke up in a lab.