Skywalkers

4: Skywalker

Two days passed, and Cloud steadily improved. Soon he was well enough to shower by himself and eat meals at the table. Dr. Kadowaki brought over a pair of crutches and a cane for him and teased that she had an old walker at home if he wanted that, too. He took the jibe in stride and accepted the cane, sending the crutches back with her. In spite of the blond's progress, Leon insisted that he sit as much as possible. Cloud got revenge by demanding to read more of Leon's books, and soon the blond was quoting his inane dialogue whenever he had the chance.

Leon realized by the end of the second day that, while the other man drove him up the wall, it was becoming harder and harder to accept that he wouldn't be there much longer. Cloud made him laugh on a regular basis, and no one had been able to do that in years. Emotions he had thought had died were resparking; having Cloud around was - dare he think it? - fun. Even writing his idiot romances was more enjoyable, because as he typed out the exaggerated sappy stuff, he could hear Cloud's laughter in his head, almost egging him on.

Sora called on the fourth day, and he immediately noticed that something had changed. "You sound different. Did you actually go out? Oh my god, did you meet someone?"

Leon skirted around all of his little brother's questions and hung up as soon as possible.

And yet, while his days were increasingly enjoyable, Leon's nights became forays into the worst depths of Hell. She haunted his dreams, forcing him to relive moment after moment. The memories always started off pleasantly - sweet snapshots of their young life or their brief marriage, times when they were blissfully happy - but each dream ended the exact same way: that horrifying phone call and the collapse of whatever structure they occupied. Each time, he would wake thrashing and screaming and terrified beyond words.

On the fifth night, he broke. The dream had been particularly dreadful. Rather than witnessing her death symbolically as he had in all the others, he had watched it unfold just as it had really happened. Listening to her frightened voice on the line, feeling wholly, utterly helpless. Waiting, praying for someone to help her since he could not. And then, kneeling on the living room floor, phone discarded by his side, pressing his hands against the TV screen and screaming her name over and over. He woke with that last image and the emotions it brought burned into his mind and body. The sheer horror of it drove him into a fit of sobbing and trembling, and he curled in on himself on the mattress, clutching himself around the waist desperately.

The bed beside him creaked, and he heard the movement of feet as they came around to his front. A hand touched him gently on the shoulder and then withdrew. Cracking his eyes open, Leon saw Cloud kneeling beside him on the floor. The blond just looked at him with kindness and sympathy in his still-sleepy eyes. He didn't say anything or try to comfort Leon physically. He simply sat, offering his presence for whatever it was worth. As Leon closed his eyes again and worked through the sobs racking his body, he realized that it was exactly what he wanted and needed. Someone to just be there.

Several minutes later, when Leon had calmed down and was slowly breathing in and out, Cloud struggled to his feet. He looked down at Leon, still curled up under the sheets, and said quietly, "Follow me." Not waiting for a response, he turned and began walking, very slowly, to the door.

Dazed, Leon unfolded himself. By the time he had risen to his feet, Cloud had made it to the hallway, although he had stopped just outside the door to catch his breath. Leon walked over to him. The blond caught his eye once and nodded in satisfaction before continuing his fight down the hall. Not once did he look back, although he stopped a few more times to rest. Leon just walked behind him, stopping when he did, and waited to see where they were going.

Eventually, they reached the kitchen and Cloud hauled one of the chairs away from the table. "Sit," he ordered. While Leon complied, the other moved to the cabinets and rummaged around until he had found Leon's teapot. He filled it and put it on to boil, then went searching for the mugs, spoons, and the tea bags themselves. Leon watched all of this with a muted sense of gratitude. After all the nursing that Leon had done over the past few days, now Cloud was taking care of him. Whether out of a feeling of debt, compassion, or a kind of affection, Leon didn't know, but it didn't really matter. It felt so good to sit there and have someone fuss over him for a change.

The steaming mug landed in front of him before he knew it, and there was Cloud sitting across from him, an identical mug in his hands. Gently, Leon wrapped his fingers around the warm porcelain. It soothed him, more than he thought possible.

"They sound bad," Cloud commented quietly.

Leon inhaled slowly before he admitted, "They're about her."

"I guessed."

Something about the gentle concern in Cloud's voice wrung Leon's heart. He felt something in him opening and pushing against his chest as if trying to get out. Fresh tears were filling up his eyes, but they felt different from the sharply stinging tears he always shed.

"She … she …"

"Don't," Cloud interrupted him. Leon lifted his head and found the blond half-reaching out to him. "I mean," he amended, pulling the hand back, "talk if you want to, but don't feel like you have to just because I asked."

"No," Leon said with a small shake of his head. "I want to."

"Then … I'll listen."

Leon took a breath, opened his mouth, and talked. Everything came pouring out. How they had met, their courtship, their marriage, and their brief time together. Her laughing voice and joy-filled eyes. Everything he loved about her and a few of the things he didn't. Every aspect of her appearance, down to the jewelry she liked to wear. The way she liked to tease him and the way he would tease her back by refusing to respond until she was practically jumping up and down from frustration.

His tea went cold as he talked and talked and couldn't stop.

Cloud just listened.

Eventually, the words slowed down and then ceased. He had talked his throat raw, but he didn't care. He felt an odd sense of calm unlike anything he had experienced before. Suddenly tired, he glanced sideways at the clock on the stove. A little before 5:30 in the morning. He had talked for nearly an hour.

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was."

"You loved her very much."

"I did. I still do." Leon ran one finger around the rim of his cup and then over the curve of the handle. "I haven't told you how she died yet."

"You don't have to."

"I know, but it's all right." Carefully, deliberately, Leon made the words come out. "She had an interview. She had been trying to get this investment banking firm to hire her for months. Finally, they seemed interested, and they asked her to come in to talk to them. So she went. To the World Trade Center."

He paused and waited. Waited for Cloud's reaction. A gasp or a murmur of recognition. Something. When nothing came, he lifted his eyes to the blond. Cloud was looking at him expectantly.

"And?" he prompted.

Leon blinked a few times. He didn't understand? "It was 9/11."

"Oh." Cloud looked down for a minute. His expression remained neutral, not a shred of comprehension in his features. When his eyes came back up again, he asked, "AM or PM?"

Everything stopped. Leon felt like he was in vacuum - no sound, no movement, no air. The total shock that was consuming him made it impossible to do anything but stare. Very slowly, he forced his voice to work and choked out, "September 11, 2001. The day anti-American terrorists flew two planes into the North and South towers. They went up in flames and eventually collapsed completely."

Cloud's eyes widened, and finally emotion filled his face. But it wasn't sympathy or sadness. It was panic. He had realized his mistake. That Leon's wife had died in a national tragedy that everyone in the country, quite possibly everyone in the world, had heard of and would recognize instantly. That his simple question had damned him because he absolutely should have known.

"Oh," he said.

Both mugs jumped and clattered as Leon's palms came down forcefully on the table. He leaned across it until his face was inches away from the blond's. "Who are you?" he demanded. "You fall into my bushes out of nowhere with a huge ass sword and a handheld computer-thing that you check at least five times a day - Don't give me that innocent look! I've seen you! You didn't know what ping-pong was, and you use swear words I've never heard of. Okay, both of those I might have been able to ignore, but now you're telling me that you don't know about 9/11? What planet are you from?"

Cloud blinked at him, guilty and cornered. Leon could see him trying to come up with an answer, something to say or a way to escape. Eventually, he managed to murmur, "Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

Leon's fingers curled into fists as they rested on the tabletop. "Try me," he growled.

Cloud resisted for a moment more, but then his eyes lowered and he whispered, "Fine." A second later, those eyes rose again, dramatically changed. They were serious, strong, and intensely gripping. "What planet am I from?" he repeated calmly. "Not this one."

At that statement, spoken so gravely and sincerely, Leon's anger began to drain away, leaving bewilderment behind. He swallowed several times before asking sardonically, "You're an alien? A little green man from Mars?"

That familiar smirk turned up the corners of Cloud's mouth. "No, not from Mars, but I guess you could call me an alien. More specifically, I'm a Skywalker."

"Skywalker," Leon repeated, straightening up again. Scenes from Star Wars flashed through his mind. "You mean, 'Luke, I am your father'? That kind of thing?"

"I have no idea what that means," the other answered evenly, "so probably, no. Sit down, and I'll explain."

Slowly, Leon did as he was told. He couldn't help but wonder if somehow he was still dreaming. Logically, a situation like this could not be happening, not in real life. But the honesty in Cloud's eyes was compelling, and it was slowly drowning out the voice in his head saying that the blond was insane or delusional. Leon's common sense crumbled before the gravity in the other's face, and he couldn't help but listen and pretend, if just for that moment, that everything Cloud was saying was real.

"Skywalkers are dimension-travelers. We're actually from a bunch of different planets, but we've all undergone the same transformation to give us the ability to move from one dimension to the next. The planet I live on is not the one where I was born. That one was destroyed. A handful of us were rescued beforehand, and we all became Skywalkers." He paused for a moment to scowl. "I didn't want to become one, but the one who rescued us forced me. That's actually kind of the reason why I ended up in your bushes. I ran from him. I couldn't take it anymore, living like that, so I searched for an opportunity to escape, and when I found it, I took it."

Cloud paused again and threw an appraising glance in Leon's direction. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"To be honest," Leon answered quietly, "yes."

"Yeah, well, can't say I blame you." He shrugged. After a pause, he sighed, rose from his chair, and remarked, "Might as well prove it to you."

Leon opened his mouth to ask just what that meant, but before the words could come out, Cloud had closed his eyes in concentration, much like he had the afternoon he had first awoken, and the air behind him seemed to shimmer and shift. The light bent, the shadows peeled off of the walls, and before Leon could remember how to gasp in surprise, a single black-feathered wing had pushed its way out from Cloud's left shoulder and unfurled itself half-way across his kitchen. The blond opened his eyes, and for the briefest moment, they glowed emerald green before returning to their normal blue.

He smirked cockily, seemingly loving the expression on Leon's face. "So? What do you think?"

Leon's eyes were so wide he felt like they were going to fall out of his head. The connections in his brain were snapping one by one at the very real, very impossible thing right in front of his eyes. He alternately swallowed and cleared his throat a few times and then commented with frightening calm, "Cloud, you have a wing."

"I know," he replied. Reaching out with his hand, he caught the end of it and brought it closer so he could inspect it. Meticulously, he smoothed out a few feathers and added with a slight frown, "There are supposed to be two."

A wave of nausea hit Leon hard. That six-inch gash in Cloud's back. Like something had been ripped out of him. "That wound …" he began.

"Yeah," Cloud nodded. He folded his arms and remarked, "That was entirely my own fault. I thought that by waiting until the last possible second to jump from the path, it would reduce the chance of leaving a fingerprint. It worked: I've been monitoring the path since I got here, and while the activity has increased due to them searching for me, they haven't gotten close to this fold. Unfortunately, during my wild exit I lost control for just long enough to get my right wing pinched, and it must have torn out when I jumped. Which means now I'm stuck."

The technical terms had flown over Leon's head, but he had absorbed enough to get the general idea. Cloud's last comment, however, surprised him. "Stuck?"

"Stuck," the blond repeated. The wing fluttered slightly, and Leon realized Cloud was moving it like he would an arm or leg. "I need both of them to skywalk," he explained sadly. "So I'm stuck here whether I like it or not."

Details were beginning to click together in Leon's head. "Is that why you said you were already dead?" he asked. "Because if this guy you're running from does find you, you can't escape to a different dimension?"

"Exactly. And I'd much rather die than go back to that life." He sighed and made a movement to retract the wing, but Leon stopped him.

"Wait! Can I … ?" His voice died when the blue eyes stared at him questioningly, but he gathered up his courage and pushed forward. Everything he knew had been turned upside down, but if he could do this one thing, it would help him start to accept. "Can I touch it?"

Cloud blinked, surprised, but then he shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

Hesitantly, Leon rose from his chair and walked over to the large wing. It looked just like a stereotypical angel wing except for the color. Carefully, he extended a single finger and ran it down one of the long feathers. It was a feather - nothing more, nothing less. Feeling a bit braver, he uncurled his hand and used all five fingertips to smooth the feathers down. They felt so delicate and soft against his hand. Smiling in spite of himself, he pressed a little harder and felt the feathers run along the lengths of his fingers while the tips made contact with the flesh beneath. It was absolutely unreal. He was standing in the middle of his kitchen, the morning sun just beginning to peek through the curtains, running his fingers again and again along the wing of a living angel.

A soft sigh stilled his hands. He turned his head and found that Cloud had closed his eyes and lowered his chin, an expression of contented serenity on his face. His cheeks were slightly pink, and he breathed slowly through his nose. He looked just as angelic as his wing suggested. Leon felt a tremor in his stomach at the sight of that face. Part protective desire to shield that expression from harm, and part selfish urge to keep it and not share it with anyone.

But then Cloud opened one eye and stared at Leon pointedly, and the spell promptly broke.

"I'm sorry. Did I overstep my bounds?"

Cloud opened the other eye and shook his head. "No, it's okay."

"But if it bothered you …"

"It's no more uncomfortable or embarrassing than having your hair petted," the other assured him. He turned his head and stared off at something only he could see, giving Leon a perfect view of his sharp profile. "I owe you that privilege," he remarked quietly. "And more." Even though he momentarily fell silent, Leon realized he had more to say and waited patiently. After a few heartbeats, Cloud continued, "It's been a long time since I had something to smile about, much less laugh. I definitely owe you for all the nursemaiding you did, but I'm also grateful for the other stuff. These past few days, I've actually felt something close to happiness, and it's been a really long time since I've felt anything like that. Thank you."

Leon swallowed hard. Cloud's confession sounded so much like his own situation. It tore at his heart and made him want even more to protect that momentary expression of peace. Standing there, gazing at that fierce, independent profile, Leon made a sudden, powerful vow to himself. If Cloud had fled from a life he hated, Leon would help him find one he loved. If he had nowhere to go and no one to call friend, Leon would give him both home and company. It no longer had anything to do with being a good Samaritan; he wanted to do it, more than he had wanted anything in a very long time.

Feathers touched the back of his hand, startling him. His eyes refocused to find blue ones looking directly into them. Cloud had brushed up against him to pull him from his reverie. He was waiting for Leon's reaction, a mild anxiety creasing his forehead ever so slightly.

"You're welcome," Leon smiled. Slowly, Cloud's lips formed into a return smile, and Leon felt that flutter in his stomach again. "Now, how about I make us some breakfast?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

"You'll have to put the wing away then. It's blocking the refrigerator."