Almost six months later, it still hurts.

Written mostly to "The Price of Freedom" from the Crisis Core original soundtrack.

Disclaimer: dood, fanfiction. Dialogue and obvious actions taken from the game; the rest is just the musings of a heartbroken fangirl. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and the characters and universes therein are the property of Disney and Square Enix. I receive no remuneration for this work; it is a parody and as such utilizes the Fair Use clause of the Copyright Act.

The rain was calming, steady and cool. Mako-blue eyes stared up into the falling water, blinking only occasionally, a reflex when a droplet splashed too near his pupil.

It was quiet, finally. No soldiers, no Turks, no helicopters, no ShinRa. No sharp echoes of gunfire in his ears, no fresh pain reverberating throughout his entire body. Now there was nothing.

Now there was no one.

Now it was quiet.

A muted shuffling sound broke through the shallow cadence of his own breaths and stirred Zack out of his slowing, wandering thoughts. If they hadn't given up yet...then he wouldn't either. Though he had the will, he didn't have the energy to fight, not anymore, and so he simply lay there and waited in silent defiance.

The gravelly dragging noises eventually drew closer, soggy cloth and armor scraping through mud and against rock. Indications of someone struggling, not stalking. Zack flinched as a sharp pain twisted in his chest, and his attention drifted from the sight of the wet sky to the sound of his name, spoken in a soft, uncertain, blessedly welcome voice.

"...Zack."

So he had survived. Maybe he had been spared, gone to the world as he'd been since they'd escaped from the mansion. Gone to the world, and left for dead.

Like himself.

A sudden, stabbing breath wrenched itself from Zack's torn lungs, and he grimaced through the discomfort, then exhaled and lowered his chin a little, just enough to allow his eyes to fall upon the boy now hovering over him, pale and wet and looking so young in that ill-fitting First Class uniform. So young, to have been put through so much.

Zack gazed quietly up into Cloud's eyes, and the parts of his heart that weren't physically failing him tightened painfully in relief upon seeing those eyes lucid after so long. There was hardly a trace of Mako-poisoned fog left in them, only a perfect clear blue, like the sky he knew was hidden behind those heavy clouds.

Clouds...

He almost smiled then. He wanted to, but it seemed his muscles weren't really interested in obeying. He struggled to refocus his gaze, taking in the desperate concern and confusion shining in the boy's—no, young man's eyes. Sad, that this is what it took to wrest Cloud out of his stupor.

"For the...both of us..." he managed, unable to keep his voice from breaking with the strain it took to say just that much.

"Both...of us?" Cloud echoed softly.

He seemed comforted by the mere sound of Zack's voice, and right then, more than anything, Zack wanted to ruffle those damp blond spikes, shake Cloud's head fondly and tell him everything would be okay, but he could barely draw breath as it was, and more important than convincing Cloud that things would turn out all right when even his own eternal optimism had finally betrayed him...he had to tell him. He had to pass on those precious words, had to leave something behind. A path for Cloud to follow, just as Angeal had done for him.

"That's right...you're gonna..."

"You're gonna..." Cloud nodded faintly, almost a subconscious prompt to continue.

Zack fought to gather a bit of strength, any scrap he could afford, grunting quietly with the effort it took to reach up and knot his fingers into Cloud's hair. "Live," he murmured, pulling Cloud down so that his cheek pressed against Zack's chest, over his heart, staining pale skin red. "You'll be...my living legacy."

As soon as the last word left his lips, Zack's arm dropped limply to his side once more, his energy sapped. Cloud stayed there for several seconds before slowly sitting up, and Zack could feel some of the pressure lift from his chest when he did, relief from a burden just as emotional as it was physical. He imagined whatever trace of warmth he had left in his own body vacated the moment Cloud pulled away, gone to reside within the blond, perhaps to keep him safe, keep him alive.

That thought gave him heart. He smiled, just a little, then let his head roll to the side, gaze following the line of his right arm to the comforting presence of Angeal's sword. It was worn, and it was torn, and it was wet with rain and blood, but it was all he had left. All he had to give.

He dragged the blade closer to his body with muscles that very nearly gave out on him. It was nothing but sheer determination that kept his arm extended, helped him lift the hilt up and hold it out for Cloud to take. "My honor...my dreams...they're yours now."

After a moment, still seeming to move on sluggish instinct, Cloud reached out to tentatively accept what was offered, first with one hand, then the other. Once the blade was secure, Zack gave Cloud's hands a little shove, silent instruction and encouragement. It was all he could manage before the strength left that arm as well, and it fell lifelessly to the ground.

Those clear blue eyes, partially obscured by dripping bangs, shifted quietly from the sword in his hands back to Zack. "I'm...your living...legacy," he whispered haltingly.

A slow, genuine smile faded onto Zack's face, and he closed his eyes. It was done. Angeal's honor and dreams—his own honor, his own dreams—wouldn't end here today with him. Cloud would be strong. Cloud would survive.

The legacy would live on.