Skywalkers

2: Broken Wings

The bright afternoon sunlight that shone outside pushed its way past the curtains and fell in small rectangles across Leon's bed. The few that hit his pillow lit up the golden hair that lay there and made it shine like the metal it resembled. Leon himself sat across the room in a chair he had pulled in from the kitchen. He watched the stranger sleep with his legs stretched out and his arms folded across his chest.

Dr. Kadowaki had warned him that the injured man might not regain consciousness until the following day. She had given him enough medication to knock out a horse, she had said. Still, Leon felt like he should be there just in case the other came around. If he were the one waking up in a strange bed, he knew he would appreciate someone being present to answer questions. And Leon had a large number of questions of his own that he wanted answered as soon as possible. Like who this guy was, where he had come from, and what was up with that sword?

His eyes flicked to the massive weapon sitting in the corner. He hadn't noticed it last night in the dark, but this morning as he went out to retrieve the paper, he had seen it lying among the bushes, close by to where the man had been. It was nearly as tall as Leon himself and far too heavy for him to lift. He had been forced to drag it across the lawn and into the house, using an old sheet to keep it from scratching his hardwood floors. The blond in his bed had a fair number of muscles - he had seen them when Dr. Kadowaki cut away his bloody shirt to get to the wound - but he still had difficulty believing that anyone could actually lift and wield that monstrous thing.

Leon wanted to ask about that wound, too. It was a long vertical gash directly below his right shoulderblade. About half an inch deep, Dr. Kadowaki had said. And the skin around it had been torn in such a way that she said it didn't look like something had ripped into his back, but rather that something had been ripped out of it. While Leon had puzzled over that, she had cleaned the cut, sewn it up, and bandaged it; then she had left with an order to call her as soon as he woke up.

Inhaling deeply, Leon stretched his arms high above his head and tried to relieve some of the ache in his back. He really should be doing something other than sitting there. Pietro and Alexandra were calling. He didn't particularly care about them, but if he ignored them long enough, his editor would start calling, too, and that was always a headache. And yet, he had managed to sit there for most of the day without getting bored. Something about the sleeping stranger had managed to keep his interest.

Thanks to the painkillers floating around in his system, the blond's face had lost its anguished lines. Instead, he wore a peaceful expression that Leon considered to be calming and pleasant. More than once, he found himself comparing that blond hair to a halo, although his common sense wouldn't let the description stay for long. Even if it seemed that this man had just fallen out of the sky like some angel, he wasn't anything supernatural. There would be a logical explanation for everything - his appearance, the wound, the sword - just as soon as he was coherent enough to voice it. Leon knew that much about life. Things that appeared to be magical or miraculous never were; the fantasy always faded in the end.

"Unhh …"

Leon's eyes snapped up from where they had been staring at the floor. The other man had moved his head, and his brow had creased down with the first stages of waking. A second later, his eyelids were fluttering and his hand was moving underneath the sheets, trying to get free. He moaned softly again as his eyes opened a crack and his hand, finally free of its prison, lifted to his forehead.

Sitting in his chair across the room, Leon waited quietly for the traditional questions. "Where am I?", "What happened?", and the like. But for several long heartbeats, the blond said nothing. Then, he dropped his hand back to his side and commented, "I've been drugged."

Leon's mouth fell open slightly, not expecting that to be the first thing the other said. He was about to comment that it was only some painkillers when the blond's eyes snapped to him. The gaze froze Leon to his seat. The stranger's eyes were an intense blue, and they were perfectly clear, regardless of his comment of being drugged. Leon felt like he was being x-rayed or stripped apart layer by layer - or both.

"Where's my PHS?"

He blinked, surprised and confused by the question. "What?" he asked.

"It's a small machine," the blond explained, his expression unchanging. "Looks a bit like a phone."

Right. That thing. Leon rose from his chair and walked over to his dresser. His fingers closed around a device that looked a bit like a Blackberry. Dr. Kadowaki had found it in the blond's pocket when she examined him. He held it up for the other to see.

"This?"

"Yes. Give it here."

The blond's sharp tone irritated Leon slightly, but he did as he was told. As soon as he had the device in his possession, the stranger began to push buttons and examine the screen. While Leon watched in perplexity from the side of the bed, the other man worked intently at the machine for several minutes, his forehead creased in concentration. Finally he sighed, closed his eyes, and seemed to relax considerably. He laid the device down on his chest.

"Everything all right?" Leon asked, mildly amused by this show.

The blond opened his eyes again and fixed him with another emotionless stare. "Yes," he answered. "For now." He attempted to sit up but found, to his obvious shock, that he couldn't.

"Whoa, whoa!" Leon cried, diving in to push the other back down again. "You shouldn't move yet. You've lost a lot of blood. Besides, if you move too much, you'll tear the stitches."

The blond peered up at him in confusion. "I was wounded?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Another strange question, or so Leon thought. He would have asked "How?" first. "On your back. You have a nasty gash below your right shoulder."

The information seemed to mean a great deal to the blond. His eyes widened dramatically, and his face paled. Slowly, he closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate. Then, only a few seconds later, his eyes flew open again. The distress in his face made Leon inhale sharply, but it soon disappeared, to be replaced with a kind of stoic determination.

"Where's my sword?"

"Over there." Leon pointed to the insanely huge weapon in the corner.

"Bring it here," the other ordered in the same tone as before.

This time, Leon just laughed humorlessly at him. "Yeah, right. Do you know how hard it was for me to move that thing in from outside? It weighs a ton. I'm leaving it right where it is." Those blue eyes were roaming over his body, and Leon had the unsettling feeling that his strength was being assessed just by sight. "What do you want it for?" he asked in an attempt to draw those eyes away.

"I was going to ask you to cut my head off," came the casual reply. "But if you can't lift it, I guess that's out."

For several minutes, Leon could say nothing. He just stared. Then, he whispered, "Cut your head off?"

"Yes," the blond answered, unfazed. "Do you have a knife I can use instead? Or a razor? I'd rather do it quickly like a stab to the heart, but I'll slit my wrists if that's the only way."

Leon took several shaky steps away from the bed. Away from those cold, empty eyes. "You're insane," he breathed.

For the first time, the other man smiled, but it was very small and heartbreakingly sad. "No, I'm not. But I'm dead already, and I'd prefer to get it over with now rather than wait for the inevitable."

"What?" None of this was making any sense, and Leon's head was beginning to spin. "What do you mean you're dead anyway? I had a doctor here last night to look at you, and she said you'd be fine. You'll make a complete recovery."

The blond shut his eyes and turned his head away. "That's not what I meant," he murmured to the wall.

"Then what do you … ?" Leon stopped himself. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he slowly counted to ten. Once he had calmed down, he opened his eyes and began again. "Look, let's start over. You're hurt, I'm tired, and we're probably both hungry. How about I go make us something to eat?"

Slowly, the blond turned back to him. He attempted a horizontal shrug. "Yeah, okay."

"Fine. I'm Leon, by the way."

"Cloud."

"All right. Nice to meet you, Claude."

"No, not Claude. Cloud." He lifted a hand and pointed to the window. "Like the white puffy things outside." His voice stayed neutral, but Leon could see the challenge in his eyes, as if daring him to laugh at his name.

However, Leon - born Squall - had no intention of laughing. "Your parents were hippies, huh?" he asked with a sympathetic look. "So were mine."

Cloud quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion, but Leon had already turned away. "Stay there and don't move," he ordered.

"You sure you won't bring me a knife out of the kitchen?"

"I'm sure. Now lie there and shut up."

xXx

That evening, as Dr. Kadowaki fussed over Cloud in the other room, Leon made dinner for two. It was strange how cooking for just one more person made the entire experience different. Leon found himself reaching for oils and spices that he hadn't touched in years, and before he knew what he was doing, he had made a lemon cream sauce from scratch to go with the pasta he had prepared. When it was done, he just stared at it for a while, remembering how he had cooked for her almost every night.

"You cook, and I clean. That's fair, right?"

"Mmm, what smells so good in here?"

Leon turned to find his neighbor standing in the doorway, her little nose high in the air in appreciation. He smiled at her and answered, "Dinner. Would you like to stay? I can boil some more pasta pretty quickly."

"No, that's all right," she responded with a wave of her hand. "I need to get home to the dogs." Her glasses had slipped, so she pushed them up before continuing, "I thought I should let you know that he looks fine. No infection yet, and the cut already looks better than it did yesterday. He's still weak, but that's to be expected. If things keep on as they are, he should be completely healed relatively soon."

"That's good to hear," Leon replied, pouring out the noodles into two bowls. He hesitated for a moment, but then decided to ask, "Did you happen to find out what he was doing in my hydrangeas?"

Dr. Kadowaki tipped her head and peered at him in a friendly but scrutinizing manner. "No. Why? Didn't you?"

"No." The metal colander clanked as he put it down on the counter a little more forcefully than normal. Turning to the doctor, he confessed, "He refuses to tell me anything. Who he is, where he came from, why he showed up in my yard. He spent the entire afternoon trying to convince me to let him kill himself." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. "The thing is he doesn't seem despondent or even that upset. It's more like he feels as if he has to do it. Like it's a duty or something."

The small woman in front of him pursed her lips for a moment in thought before announcing, "Well, I'm sure you'll get it out of him eventually, Leon."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You saved his life. If he's going to trust anyone, it'll be you." The warm smile she turned on him soothed away his shock and concern, if only for a moment. Then, the smile flashed into a wide grin as she turned towards the door. "Now, I need to get back to my dogs before they start tearing up my shoes," she announced. "They're such babies, the both of them. It doesn't matter how many toys I buy them; they still prefer my Naturalizers." She muttered a few things under her breath, words that Leon was sure a lady should not have in her vocabulary.

When she had her hand on the knob, she paused and turned back. "Take care of Cloud, and tell him that he'd better not kill himself after all the trouble I went through of healing him. If he even tries it, I will be extremely unhappy."

Leon's lips jerked up in a smile. Most people wouldn't think twice about a threat from such a small woman, but he knew better. "I'll tell him."

"Good. Have a good night, Leon."

After she had left, he loaded both bowls, two glasses of water, and silverware onto a tray and took it into the bedroom. Cloud was sitting up, supported by several pillows and rolled-up blankets, and he was staring out of Leon's window into the yard. He didn't bother to turn his head until Leon had set the food down on his lap. Then, he watched wordlessly as Leon took his own dinner off the tray and arranged himself in the chair that the doctor had recently vacated.

"Thanks," he finally said, picking up the fork.

"You're welcome."

They ate in silence, Cloud commenting only once that the food was good. Leon didn't even bother to try a conversation. The afternoon had been maddeningly frustrating. Every question had been met with a refusal to answer. Once, the blond had whispered, "I don't want to get you involved," but that was the only hint Leon had that there was anything to tell at all. It made him want to pick Cloud up and toss him out the front door, but his conscience wouldn't let him do it. Not while Cloud was still too weak to walk. Once he had recovered though, that would be a different story.

"Who's that?"

Leon lifted his head as Cloud's voice broke him from his thoughts. The blond had finished his dinner and had neatly arranged his empty dishes on the tray. His finger pointed to a framed photograph on Leon's dresser, explaining the question. Upset in spite of himself, Leon turned his eyes away from her beautiful smiling face.

"My wife."

"Oh." Cloud's eyes began to wander, and Leon knew exactly what he was doing: looking around for any signs of a woman in this house. There were none. Leon had removed them all years ago. "Are you … divorced?" the blond asked after a moment.

"She's dead."

"Oh," Cloud said again. His eyes turned to Leon, and for once they held some emotion in their blue depths. "My sympathies."

"Thank you."

"How long?"

Leon's mouth had gone dry. Cloud's eyes were examining him again. It was simultaneously terrifying and infuriating. "What?"

"How long has she been dead? I noticed you didn't want to look at the picture, but it's there all the same. When did she die? How?"

Cloud's questions sparked a kind of wild rage within Leon's chest. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the stranger in his bed. Growling, he stated, "I see no reason to share my personal pain with you when you won't tell me anything about yourself other than your name."

To Leon's surprise, the other man didn't apologize or fight back. Instead, he leaned further into the pillows and commented, "That's true. Forget it then." He looked away, out the window once more.

The sudden anger died away just as quickly. Truly, Leon had no idea what to make of this man. It was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced.

Quietly fuming, Leon rose and placed his own empty dishes on the tray. As he picked it up and moved to take it back to the kitchen, Cloud reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist. Leon glanced down to find that the blond wasn't even looking at him.

"When I'm well enough to move again," he said absently, "I'll do some work around the house for you. Clean up or something. It would only be fair." Finally, the eyes moved, and they locked with Leon's. "Right?"

"That's fair, right?"

Leon shut his eyes against the tears and turned away. "Yeah." He shook off Cloud's hand and walked forward, concentrating on not dropping the dishes as a way to keep his mind off of her. But at the door, he suddenly had the strange desire to tell Cloud what the other had wanted to know. No, it was more than a desire. It was an actual need.

"Five years."

"What?" Cloud asked, not following the jump in conversation.

"She died five years ago. We had only been married for eight months."

Silence filled the room for a moment; then Cloud repeated, "My sympathies."

Leon could only nod as he disappeared into the kitchen to clean up the mess he had left there.