A/N: Ahem. This...is not for the weak of heart. There's nothing graphic, but it's depressing. I fashioned it after An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce. For those of you who have read that before, I'm sorry I just gave away the ending to this.

Anyway, please leave a review. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Nothing quirky this time. This story is too serious for that. Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square Enix. The lyrics of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" are borrowed the Wizard of Oz.

IN THEIR WAKE

Don't cry. Please, don't cry. It won't end like this. It can't end like this. They can't do this to us, not after all we've done for them. Don't cry. Please, we've only begun to live our lives. They can't take away our happiness. Nobody can. I won't let them. So please. Please, don't cry.

…

The day was cold. Thick clouds blocked out the sunlight, and a piercing wind swept through the crowds. On a day like this, people should have been at home preparing for a thunder storm and the possibility of a flash flood sweeping through their neighborhoods, but not today. They should have been bundling up their children, curling up in front of fireplaces and sipping mugs of hot chocolate, but not today.

Today was their day, after all. The day their loved ones would be avenged. The day those who had brought such catastrophe upon their lives would be given their due punishment.

This was the day that AVALANCHE would pay for their sins.

…

An endless expanse of various shades of green fanned out beneath the Highwind as it meandered slowly through the skies. They were the only two left onboard—well, them and Cid. Somebody had to pilot the airship, after all. Everyone else had already been dropped off. Home. They all had a home, even Cid had one.

But they didn't. And so they wandered, hoping to find a place where peace could finally be the dominant force in their lives. It went unspoken, but both knew that their place—their home—would the one and the same.

She stood alone, staring over the railing of the Highwind. Hard to believe that just hours ago this would have been the imminent crash site of Meteor. Still harder to believe was the fact that it was finally all over.

He watched her silently, knowing that time was needed for both of them to really take it all in.

Her eyes glimmered faintly with tears that would not fall. "It's crazy. Almost like nothing ever happened. I can just see everyone resuming their everyday lives as if the threat of the planet's destruction never happened. Or had it ever disturbed their lives in the first place?" There was awe in her voice and even a little disdain.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but I'd hate to know that her sacrifice went unnoticed by all the people she saved."

"…She wouldn't have minded."

"I know. Still, it makes me wonder what it is that people really think about."

He didn't respond. He found it exceedingly strange that of all the people on their motley little crew, she would be the one brooding and he—he the master of wrong words and density—would be the one to comfort her. Goodness knows he would give anything to be granted the right to comfort her for the rest of their lives, but her pensive mood was quite at odds with her usual gaiety.

"You think they know what they survived?" Her eyes were focused on some point in the horizon, the wind blowing stray strands of hair into her face. The dirt and grime from their arduous trek into the Northern Crater had been washed off and what remained was a pale complexion with hollow eyes. The journey had taken a heavy toll even on her morale.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"I hope they do. Not just because I want her to be remembered, but because I want them to realize what could have happened. Maybe now…maybe now people will realize that life isn't just about comfort and what's best for themselves. Maybe they'll see that we all have to work together to make this world a better place." She chuckled dryly. "That sounds so stupidly cliché."

A biting wind swept through the deck of the airship, and she shivered, not bothering to repress it. The fighting was over; she didn't have to be strong anymore. He moved closer to her so that his warmth might spread to her. He told himself that the sudden increase in his heartbeat was because of the exhilarating view and not because of his proximity to her.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"Where are you planning on going?"

That was the question that had haunted her ever since their journey ended. Where would she go? Where could she go?

"Somewhere over the rainbow," she muttered quietly. He frowned at the ambiguity of her answer as she turned to face him with a smile. "You?"

Wherever you go, he wanted to say. But it sounded too foolish in his mind, too trite; thus he answered with a simple, "Home."

"And where might that be?"

He looked at her thoughtfully for a while before deciding that it probably would be easiest just to show her. She was startled when she found his arms around her shoulders and her head buried in the hollow of his neck, but it was a pleasant surprise, one to which she could certainly grow accustomed.

…

Heroes are only heroes if history writes them as such. Yet who writes history? Who has the right to determine the rights and wrongs of the present generation? Who has the right to charge one man with murder and another with salvation? Who has that right?

How often it is that those who had absolutely no part in the salvation of the world, who knew nothing about the truth, end up telling their story! And so, while they were touted as heroes by some, even more considered them murderers.

And they had no doubt killed. They had killed and pillaged and destroyed. But they had also saved. They had saved a generation of people so consumed by their own profit that they could not see the damage they were incurring. They had saved a world whose inhabitants did not know the meaning of hope. They were hope.

Were they innocent? Perhaps not, but their guilt was far more innocent than their condemnation.

The winners are the heroes. The heroes write history.

At least that's how it was supposed to be.

…

His teeth clenched angrily. This was ridiculous. When it had first begun, he had ignored it, shrugged it off and attributed it to the ignorance of the masses. But now, even now, they had the nerve to do such a thing! Was this what they had sacrificed so much for? For this life of harassment?

A gentle hand on his arm settled his mood slightly. His eyes were dark and threatening, but the anger was not directed towards her. Still, she had to bite back the urge to retreat from the intensity of his gaze. "Will it never end?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. But we can't let what they say affect us. We know the truth and that's all that matters."

His frustration returned. "It's not that I care what they say. It's just—It's so stupid! It's all so damn stupid!"

"They just don't understand. You can't blame them, really. From their point of view, a lot of the damage really was our fault."

"And if we didn't do what we did, nobody would even still be here. Is that what they want? Do they really want to die?"

"Cloud…"

"Forget it. I'm not gonna let them ruin our day." He took her hand in his and pulled her forward gently. "Come on. We're going to the beach, right?"

She smiled weakly, her other hand latching onto his forearm. "…Yeah."

The muscles in his jaw tightened as they stepped gingerly past the altar of hate that had been constructed in front of their home. Pictures of mangled buildings and words of derision snapped at them from cardboard signs.

'AVALANCHE MUST PAY!'

…

He stumbled forward, the chains anchoring his ankles together digging deep into his flesh. He glared at the man—a mere boy, really—who had shoved him, but the youth merely snickered maliciously in response.

"What are you looking at?" he sneered before cuffing his right temple harshly. He made to charge at the youth, but the boy held up a remote. "Watch it, or all your friends go boom."

He hesitated only a moment before backing down, his teeth clenched so tightly that it hurt his jaw. He wouldn't lose his head. Not now. Not after all he had endured to ensure that his family and friends would stay safe.

With a renewed resolve, he looked past his tormentor and toward his destination. A morose length of concrete wall greeted him. From this distance, the wall appeared flawless. But he knew better.

He knew that tiny holes marked the wall along a nearly horizontal line that stood at an average of about four feet six inches. He knew that the cold gray was marred by browned stains that looked like rust that could not be washed off completely.

He knew that he would not live to see past this wall.

It was a scene ironic enough to almost make him laugh.

He had survived battle with the strongest beings in the world and emerged victorious, yet here he would meet his defeat on the receiving end of an executioner's bullet.

…

He heard the music before he got to the door. It was muffled, but he could still catch strains of a mellow melody, proof that she was probably cleaning again. He was only half-conscious of the gentle smile that touched his lips at the thought.

"I'm home!" he called as he pushed open the door. He was expecting to see her bright smile, or maybe even an embarrassed lift of her lips having been caught dancing to the music. But he saw neither.

In its stead, he was met with a paled expression, drawn lines around shocked eyes, and shaking hands as she tried to keep herself standing upright. He rushed to her side to steady her.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't say anything; only pointed to the newspaper lying spread before her on the countertop.

His eyes darted about on the paper, here a bright advertisement sporting the latest line of trendy cellular phones, there an article on the progressing construction of Edge—the new city that Rufus Shinra was building to accommodate all those who lost their Midgar home. What had so completely shaken the steady and level-headed fighter?

And then he saw it. A small article, no larger than two by five inches, located at the bottom right corner of the paper. It was done dismissively, as if the only function it had was to fill up space.

'Fire in Corel Kills Two

'The bodies of Barret Wallace, 34, and his daughter Marlene Wallace, 5, have been recovered inside their burnt-down home. Three teenagers have been arrested for arson and manslaughter. The attack came days after a mining accident that had killed six and wounded several more. The alleged are reported as children of three of the miners who died in the accident.

'Former leader of the terrorist group Avalanche, Wallace had been involved in attempts to resurrect the dying economy of North Corel by investing in the coal mining industry. However, it is suspected that due to Wallace's misdemeanors in business practice—shirking on safety regulations to cut costs—residents in North Corel have long resented the presence of Wallace's mining company. This last mining incident proved to be the last straw for many local Corel citizens.

'Although facing an indisputable mountain of evidence that the three youths had indeed set the fire, the defense—backed by a community that never forgave Wallace for the crimes he committed while leading Avalanche and further outraged by Wallace's dubious business practice—is confident that they can get the three teens out on a minimal sentence, if they have to serve a sentence at all.'

He shoved the newspaper off the countertop with an animalistic growl. He couldn't bear to read that trash anymore. How could people be so stupid? So incredibly prejudiced and blind? It was one thing to build hate shrines in front of their home; it was another thing entirely to commit murder. And not just murder. They were going to be exonerated for it!

He hit the counter with a closed fist. "Damn it!"

Yes, Barret had messed up before. Maybe they shouldn't have blown up the reactor. But what gave them the right to take innocent lives? Marlene…Marlene was only five years old! And they were claiming to be outraged at Avalanche? What kind of hypocrisy was that?

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Each curse was emphasized by a foundation shaking punch to the counter, the wood splintering from the impact.

It was only when he heard faint sobs that he remembered the distressed state Tifa had been in. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. There was nothing they could do about this now.

Absolutely nothing.

…

They call it mob mentality.

It arises from a crowd of apathetic people who are not fully informed, who are—in short—ignorant. They are easily swayed because they don't see a need to discover for themselves the truth of the matter. They take popular knowledge that is circulated publicly as absolute truth. They are swept up in the ecstasy of emotions evoked by being with other ignorant people.

They think themselves wise, but only manage to prove themselves fools in the eyes of an objective third party. But what if there is no third party? Is there a lie big enough that all the world is taken in by its lures?

How sad it is that the world would take its very saviors and crucify them! Why do such a thing?

Because there must be a payment. There must a scapegoat. There must be someone onto whom they can divert the blame. There must be an evil to hate….as long as it is not they themselves.

…

"Remember, do not stop until you get to Cosmo Canyon. You'll be safe when you get there. But you have to make it there. You have to." His voice was soft, but his words urgent as he helped her put the final touches to her disguise.

They had cut her hair—it barely brushed her shoulders now—and bleached it a dirty-blonde. Blue colored contacts hid the maroon twinkle in her eyes. Dark foundation colored her pale skin. Loose-fitting clothes concealed her toned physique.

Cosmo Canyon was the last safe refuge for the group of friends who had saved the world less than a year ago. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn't see them as saviors. The problem was getting there. It would have been easy if Cid was still around, but….

Cid and Shera had gone missing when one of their new models exploded during the test run.

"Cloud, come with me," she pleaded again, her eyelids brimming with tears.

He shook his head with a grim smile. "You know I can't."

"Then let me stay with you!"

"No!" He sighed and traced her cheek with trembling fingers. "I trust you with my life, but I love you too much to risk this with me. I'd just get distracted. Besides, I got Reeve's newest Cait Sith with me. Once we get Reeve himself, we'll be good to go. We're gonna be fine."

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes in pain. Of course she knew. They'd been through this hundreds of times already. He had to do this. They both agreed that he should. She even understood his reasoning behind why he wouldn't let her come with him. But it didn't mean she wouldn't fight it until the very last moment.

Tears slipped down her face before she could stop them. "I can't lose you, Cloud. I can't."

He wiped them away with his thumbs and when that did nothing to stem the flow, he brushed them away with butterfly kisses.

"Shhh. I know. I know. Don't cry. Please, don't cry. It won't end like this. Don't cry. They can't take away our happiness. Nobody can. I won't let them. So please. Please, don't cry. I'll be meeting up with you and the others in Cosmo Canyon before you know it."

Her heart wrenched at his words. Somehow, somehow she just knew…She just knew! "I love you Cloud. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please come back to me. Please."

"I promise." He took her hand and crossed their pinkies. "See? Pinkie-swear. I'll come back to you. Always."

She silently studied their enjoined hands for a moment before pulling his face down to level with hers and scorching his lips with a burning kiss.

…

As he stood facing the crowd with a disinterested expression on his face, his mind couldn't be further away from his imminent execution. His fingers itched to trace his lips, the memory from their last kiss overwhelming all his other emotions. But his hands were trapped in mythril encased handcuffs behind his back. Even still, the only thing he could think of was how he was going to break his promise to her. Again.

He paid little attention to the charges being read to him. The majority of them were unfounded, but it didn't matter. Even if none of the charges were true, they would have still found a reason to kill him. It was useless to protest.

"Do you have any last words?"

He stared at the city official with blank eyes. Last words? His mouth spoke before his mind caught up. "I'll come back for you."

A nervous murmur rippled through the crowds, the foolish masses thinking that this was a threat. Who would have known that the only face he could see in his mind was hers?

The official overseeing the execution cleared his throat. "Very well. On behalf of the city of Midgar, I hereby authorize the execution of Cloud Strife."

He nodded at the shooters who were lined up behind a table about ten meters from the wall and the man there were to shoot. Apparently they thought that one bullet would not suffice to kill him.

Cloud would have laughed if it was not his own death. Or maybe he should laugh anyway.

The collective click of the safeties being releases echoed in the silence left by an anxious crowd of murderous witnesses.

"3."

Was this really the end for him? He couldn't help but feel discontent.

"2."

He just wanted to see her. One more time. To hold her. Kiss her. Tell her he loved her more than anything.

"1."

His mind was strangely blank. Is that what happens on the brink of death?

"Fire!"

The half-dozen rifles ignited with a loud crackle and rend intrusively through the air.

…

He blinked in confusion when the bullets did not reach him. Instead, they slowed to a stop, almost as if they were caught in tough elastic. It took him a few moments to grasp the fact that somebody had cast Barrier on him.

Then there was an explosion and he suddenly found himself caught up in the arms of a large robotic mog. And then they were running, gunfire biting at their heels. Cloud signaled to the mechanical wonder to let him down, which it did fluidly as they ran. Shouts and screams erupted from all sides as they made their escape.

"The ladder! Grab the ladder!" Cait Sith cried out in his Irish brogue.

He glanced about in confusion before seeing the bottom of a rope ladder hanging about ten feet from the ground. Cid had survived after all. He should have known the gritty pilot wouldn't die so easily.

An explosion on the left knocked him off his feet, but he quickly rolled back into an upright position.

"Hurry lad! I'll hold them off!"

Cloud hesitated only a moment before taking off once again. It really was quite handy to have a disposable body. Almost there. He grunted when a bullet connected with his flesh, but he kept running. Pulsing rang in his ears as the adrenaline gave him to strength to kick off a wall and grab wildly for the ladder.

His body suddenly felt light as he was lifted up. He almost couldn't believe it. He was free.

Cid greeted him with a hearty pat on the back when Cloud reached the cockpit of the airship. "Got yerself in a little trouble there, kid."

"Just a little," he replied with a relieved smile.

"Go get some rest in the rooms. Tifa'll have my hide if I get you back to her looking like that."

Cloud only nodded before making his way to one of the cabin rooms. Now that the adrenaline wore off, the ache from the bullet he caught in his back was spreading to the front of his torso.

The trip back to Cosmo Canyon went by in a blur. The pain grew exponentially and it became difficult to breathe. It was strange. Though the wound was in his lower back, his chest ached more than anything. But he had refused to take any painkillers. He wanted to be lucid when he saw her.

Even in his pain, he'd been the first to stumble off the airship—a new model he noticed that was almost identical with the Highwind—when they reached Cosmo Canyon.

She was there, at the top of the stairs. She was there, her hair no longer bleached, colored contacts discarded and the light from the fire illuminating her ivory skin.

He struggled up the stairs, slightly frustrated that she would not come down the stairs to greet him. He coughed into his hands, the strain too much for his lungs. He paused when he saw the blood on his hands.

No. He was so close. No! He was so close!

"Tifa." Her name came out a gurgle on his lips as he tried to breathe past the blood.

He tried to reach for her, but found that his hands were suddenly bound behind his back.

Then a sharp pain gripped his heart.

And then there was nothing.

…

Tifa fell to the floor when she saw the brutal image depicted on the newspaper.

'Reign of Terror Finally Over

'Cloud Strife, leader of the rebel group that had laid waste to many towns and villages and killed many promising young soldiers in their wake to find the Promised Land, was executed yesterday. A worldwide search is still going to find the four remaining members: Tifa Lockhart, Red XIII, Yuffie Kisaragi, and Vincent Valentine. If you have any news of these four individuals, please contact the local authorities immediately. These four individuals are deemed extremely dangerous.'

"No. No, no, no, no. NO! Cloud promised. He promised he'd come back. He promised! He promised."

She curled herself into a ball on the floor. She couldn't understand it. How had it all escalated to this? They were supposed to be the good guys. They saved the world. But now the world they had sacrificed so much to save was trying to kill them. She didn't know whether she should cry or laugh at the irony. Was this all? Where had justice gone?

A soft melody drifted to her from outside. Some strength she didn't know she possessed lifted her off the floor and walked her outside. The innocent and achingly wishful lyrics poisoned her mind.

'Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

'Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true'

She didn't know how but she found herself at the top of the observatory. The sight was breathtaking. Cosmo Canyon was so far removed from the pollution of politics and the garish lights of civilization. The stars hung brighter and bigger. The air cleaner. And the view more majestic.

A light sheen of mist tickled her exposed skin. An involuntary smile spread across her lips when a moonbow appeared on the horizon. The lyrics to the song plagued her.

'Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me'

Where could she go for her troubles to melt away? She took a step closer to the ledge.

'If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?'

Yes. Why can't I?

One more step and suddenly she was free. The wind pillowed her in its gentle caress. She maneuvered herself so that she was staring upwards at the stars that were quickly shrinking. His voice wrapped around her.

"I'll come back for you."

No, she thought with a smile. I'm coming for you.