~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-One: Impulse

~*~*~*~*~*~                 
Regret was an understatement at this point.  The copies continued to burst forth from below the surface of the water, continuing in a relentless pattern of attack.  A few bullets would be sprayed from their guns, harsh kicks would strike across his chest if he didn't dodge fast enough, then they would fall, only to have more emerge and replace.

Fighting in the sand was proving to be more difficult than regretful.  As the water dragged against the shore, his feet would sink down into churning sand, causing his balance to be thrown slightly and for the clones to have the upper hand.  They would take that moment of discord and unleash more attacks that stunned and disoriented.

But fighting without his sword was some cause of that regret, but not all.  He was instructed to leave his sword behind, and he honestly thought he wouldn't require it on such a seemingly peaceful vacation.  But now, as he swung a sun-bleached beach umbrella around to fend off these Genesis copies, he couldn't help but mentally kick himself for not going with his first instinct to disobey orders and bring his sword along.  He practically disobeyed tons of orders before, so why was this time any different?

By now, he had lost count of how many copies he disposed of; it had to have been in the thirties, if that wasn't an understatement in it of itself.  But the more and more that they would come, the more and more his … weapon … was proving to be a very bad choice.  He could only fight with what he had, but perhaps he could have kicked sand in their eyes and it would have been more effective.  Of course, it was his luck that they were wearing some sort of mask over their faces, so the beach umbrella was looking more and more feasible as time and copies went on.

A few bullets had grazed past him, and despite the handicap of fighting in the sand and with a terrible excuse for a weapon, they began to thin out and their numbers dwindled.  At first his attention was divided between the shore and the town, as he had heard some screams and panic arise from the heart of the resort, but after hearing Tseng shouting and the sound of a handgun being fired, he knew that things would be taken care of back there.  He hadn't anticipated so many clones coming from so many directions, but as the sounds of the crowd calming, he was able to focus more on what was in front of him.

The umbrella began to bend and warp the more that he struck the copies with it.  The fabric frayed and separated from its frame, but the sharp tip was proving to penetrate the skin of his enemies as well as he could have hoped, so he continued to fight with it.  He was too far away to grab any other umbrella, and most of the others were opened.  

Zack grunted from exertion and the heat.  Stamina was already sapped from the squats, mindset was wavering between the fight at hand, and his own mental fight with his own mental enemies.  So these were one of the last things that he wanted to see, even if he had been pent up and bored stiff from the past few days.  However much that these were managing to distract him, he still couldn't help but think about Cloud with each thump of his heart, and about Mejia with each clone that he killed.

Sweat rolled down his warmed body, mixing with cool drops of the sea that littered his skin in tiny beads.  His black swimming trunks sagged on his hips from being soaked and from the erratic movements of the long fight, but finally, the last clone fell to the sand, the choppy water slapping against its lifeless form slumped over the others.  Zack let out a sigh as he used one hand to jab the umbrella into the sand, and the other to wipe the water and sweat from his brow.

He didn't know how long he had been fighting the copies for, but now the sun that he had been staring at earlier with Cissnei had moved a little in the sky, and had he not been so heated, his body might have been complaining at him for an early dinner.  But there were cries coming from the town still, and his moment of rest was cut short as he could still hear rounds of gunfire from that direction.  It was fewer now, and there were less screams from the citizens, so the Turks must have gotten it under control somewhat.  It was dangerous for him to be fighting these things with such a poor choice of weapon, but ignoring the Turks and the people was something that just didn't register in his mind.

That umbrella was removed from the sand once more, and as he ran into the town to help, he had thought about switching it out for one that was less damaged, but in a strange way he thought it a bit fortuitous, if not superstitious, so he continued on.    


~*~*~
This was not something he was going to take a chance with, so barging in was out of the question.  He had some time still; the sounds from the front of the clinic carried the shouts of panic through the corridor as he slipped inside the room.  There were no nurses or doctors that walked past, not even any patients; it was as if he had the whole place to himself.

Turning the knob on the door was admittedly nerve-racking for Graves, but perhaps it was more of an anxiety than nervousness.  At least, he'd like to think so.  He thought about turning it slowly – quietly – but Mejia was SOLDIER, that meant heightened hearing and he no doubt probably suspected there was someone standing outside his door already, if the man was awake.  So it was opened as normally as Graves could for being so anxious, and yet it seemed to take eons for the knob to turn, and for the hinges to squeak in the way that he predicted they would as the door was finally pushed open.

He watched the form of the man in the bed as he walked in to see if he would stir, but Mejia stayed perfectly still, perhaps even rigid, when the door closed behind.  His hand moved smoothly to his hip to where a leather sheath was strapped to his belt.  He silently removed an issued combat knife from it, twisting the handle around in his hand a few times as he approached the curtain, and he slowly pulled it back.

Mejia was lying on his side, his back to Graves.  He couldn't have asked for a better position for the man to be lying in.  He was thankful for the knife he carried, even if he rarely used it in and out of the military.  With the assault rifles they used, knives only really had a place out in the field to cut down brush.  But using the rifle would have been insane right there in the clinic, so slitting the man's throat was most stealthy and the most logical.  He was finally putting the knife to good use, but then again, Graves could get the job done with a butter knife, so long as he put his mind and muscle to it.

He had never killed a man so intimately before.  During the Wutai war, or missions that got out of hand, he rarely saw his enemy so personally, just the bodies falling after the order was given, and the trigger pulled.  They had all experienced it, except for Cloud as he joined the army shortly after the majority of the war had passed.  Elici handled it as expected, slightly rattled by the thought of having killed an actual person, but in the end convinced himself that it was what he signed up for, and eventually got over it.  Graves himself wasn't really affected by it.  He had dreams on occasion of some of the things he saw, and remorse was of course lingering; he was human, after all.  But like Elici, it was what he was supposed to do; it was what he was paid to do.

Ratcliff, on the other hand, was affected by it.  Trauma, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – whatever the doctors called it nowadays didn't much matter.  It didn't help him get over it any easier.  Graves recalled a mission Ratcliff had been sent on to bring back a deserter that ultimately resulted in the order to kill when things got heated, and when he returned, he was put through extensive debrief counseling.  It had been rough on him, and whether he chose never to talk about it on his own, or if he was ordered, the details of the mission were kept private.  He was a little skittish for a good month or two afterwards, as were a lot of men in similar situations, but they eventually eased back into their life in the army, and only on rare occasions were men discharged due to an inability to cope.

Now, Graves was faced with something that perhaps only SOLDIER or the Turks were faced with.  An assassination.  He had no formal training on being tactical or by any means stealthy, but it was a basic instinct to him.  The actual act was as easy as pulling the trigger on a gun.  It was a simple movement across the throat with the sharpened edge of his knife, and it had to be deep enough to sever the jugular veins, but that just boiled down to the sharpness of the blade and how hard and fast he sliced.  

He could do this.  He had to do this.  He had so much riding on this moment that if he failed, he feared that he wouldn't be simply 'at square one', but rather everything would be lost entirely.  So he stepped around the curtain, his grip on the knife tightening along with the muscles in his stomach.  His eyes were fixed on the motionless body in the bed, his jaw was clenched with a determination that he had never felt before.  It was foreign, yet it was strong, molded and set with anger.

Mejia's breathing was shallow, the blanket over his body not even moving with it.  Graves wasn't even so sure that the man was at first, but he could hear it as he stopped beside the bed and paused, his own breathing ceasing in his chest to listen carefully.  He slid his knee onto the bed, shifting his weight with his surprisingly smooth movements.  His body began to lean over Mejia's shoulder as his arm moved in unison.

The fluorescent lights above flickered off the blade as it was twisted in his palm one final time, and it was brought to Mejia's throat.  His hand was shaking, and whether it was because of a general nervousness, or because of the awkward position he was in as he hovered over the man, he couldn't tell.

No more hesitation, no more thinking.  Any ounce of speculation of what could happen once the knife was used was gone, any worry of remorse in the future had never even made it to the forefront of his mind.  There would be none … not for him, and he was confident in that.

A moment passed, and a warm sensation was placed around his wrist, and the blanket that had been still was now shifting off the body beneath him.  His hand suddenly stopped shaking, and it took him a moment to see that it was manually stopped.  His balance was being thrown as the hand around his own began to push back, and then it was too late for Graves to realize that Mejia was awake and fighting back.

~*~*~
There had been no word on any change of duty for Cloud, and as Monday rolled around, he returned to what felt like a prison of an office.  The muzak was turned on overhead, the same short set of songs playing already irritating him and reminding him of the long day ahead.  The electric hum of the computers filled the air as well, doing nothing in aiding the venom he was feeling towards his duty.  

He did find solace in the fact that the blonde psychologist had taken the day off, and it was just one other woman psychologist and a male psychiatrist roaming around in the office, who both paid no mind to him at all.  But that comfort was soon ruined as after only a few hours of working, the part-timer began to complain about not feeling well, and soon disappeared into the back offices to probably ask if she could be relieved of duty.

Cloud was now more worried than irritated, as after the very short weekend, there seemed to be a surge of appointments and paperwork flooding the front desk.  The pharmacists calling about prescriptions from the psychiatrist, SOLDIERs canceling appointments, some making them, the Investigative Department calling to inquire about medical reports and forms ….

It was enough to make him want to either pull his hair out or scream, or a very satisfying combination of both.  And as he slammed down the phone for the umpteenth time since the part-timer had disappeared, he could suddenly hear her talking to one of the doctors saying that he was doing just fine up at the front and would be okay for the rest of the day by himself.

Now a combination of wanting to wring her neck, scream, then pull his hair out swarmed him, along with an impending sense of panic.  But all he found himself able to do, despite all this, was sit there and watch as she grabbed her purse from where it had been lying not even for three hours since the start of their shift, and she left.

He was in a bit of shock for a few moments, and even had let the phone ring for quite some time before he slowly picked it up and resumed doing the job himself anyway.  She wasn't much help to begin with and left a lot for him to do, but when he did have a question about something, she was there to help him through it.  But now, he was uncomfortably alone in the front end, and even though he had somewhat of a grip on the basics by now, he still felt as if he couldn't juggle it all by himself.

Before he knew it, another hour went by of him scrambling around, and they finally closed down for lunch.  It was the same droll routine again, no matter how much relief he got from being away from the office for such a short amount of time.  Head down to the chow hall, stand in line, stomach Monday's menu alone, then find something to occupy himself with for another twenty minutes or so until he had to report back for the rest of his personal hell.  

By now, he was really starting to miss his normal infantry duties.  He would give them his all, but admittedly, he hated going out in the field for training, or on patrol in the slums, and whatever else he did with his job.  He would do whatever it took to get into SOLDIER, but still couldn't help but hate it a little bit.  But since he started the light-duty, it all didn't seem so bad anymore in comparison.

Lunch passed faster than he expected, but was just as lonely as he expected.  The day before, his unit had left to spend the day and night out in the field outside of Midgar.  It usually consisted of materia training and combat on the monsters in the area, as well as some land navigation and fire watch.  It was an excuse to have the men assemble and sleep beneath the stars, basically.  It was nothing more than a giant camping trip.

So he was alone in the barracks the whole day before, and it was nice at first as he was able to concentrate on some reading, but the enjoyment didn't last long when his eyes grew tired and he crawled into his bed for the night.  Without the sounds of the other men snoring and murmuring in their sleep, the place was painfully quiet.  His eardrums felt as if they were pounding, trying to pick out any sort of noise in the silence to comfort him.  He tossed and turned for the majority of the night, as the only source of any noise was the rambling in his head.  

Cloud's thoughts mostly consisted of Zack, or at least, he forced them to try to be.  Zack's smile, his voice, his laugh … whatever he could to keep his thoughts level.  He replayed their first kiss in his mind, then their first date.  He found himself smiling and actually relaxing, and perhaps sleep would come faster than what he originally thought.  But as he began to doze off, he lost control of where his mind would wander, and fragments of not only Kalm, but the first incident would take over his brain.  So Zack would be forced back, and then his body would be lured into a false sense of relaxation again, only to have more memories frighten him awake.

The next thing he knew, his little alarm clock was going off and he woke up, not having remembered actually falling asleep, let alone feeling as if he had at all.  The barrack was still empty, and he instantly dreaded the day ahead.

So with the unit gone, the chow hall was void of anyone that he knew once more, and he was becoming sick and tired of feeling so lonely, but didn't know what he could do to stop it, or even if he could at all.  He just knew he was longing to see Zack again, and the frustration of working in that office was making it a lot worse than if he was just going about his normal duties.  If he was assigned to his normal duties, he would at least get the feeling as if things were normal, even if he knew in the back of his mind that things weren't.

Cloud finished most of his lunch and threw the rest away.  He was hungry when he had woken up, but after the start of his shift, he really just lost his appetite.  He knew that he would most likely be starving come dinnertime, so he wasn't too concerned with not eating.  He mostly cut it short anyway, as he wanted to stop by Zack's apartment once more to see if he was home yet.  He worried that the man would come back and try to look for him in the barracks, and he wouldn't be there.  He didn't want Zack to question where he was, so Cloud wanted to find him first, besides just really wanting to spend time with him.

But Zack wasn't there yet again, and he reassured himself that he would see him soon.  He still found himself frowning in disappointment, despite the reassurance that was really more like blind hope than anything else.  He worried a bit, wondering if everything was going okay wherever Zack was, and with whatever he was doing, and he was still worried about Ratcliff as well.  They left on the same day and were both still gone without a word about their progress.  Granted, it wasn't unusual for the men to be called for duty for similar lengths of time at the same time, but it still didn't stop Cloud from being curious about where they had gone, or what they were doing.

Cloud waited for as long as he could, just in case, before his lunch ran out, and he trotted back towards the medical ward a few floors down.  He passed through a lounge area that had a balcony he never really noticed before, and the only reason why he noticed it now was because there were two office workers standing by it debating with each other rather loudly over which of their coworkers was the lunchroom thief.  The balcony overlooked the SOLDIER boot camp, he realized.

Cloud slowed his pace, mentally kicking himself for having forgot to head down there the previous morning on his one day of liberty.  He had reminded himself heavily of it Saturday night, but come Sunday morning, he was so relieved to not have to work in the office that he just wanted to relax all day.  The thought didn't even register in his head, even though he had thought about Graves a few times.  The connection was just not made, however.

But now, the morning was long gone, and it would be the other half of the SOLDIER recruits down using the compound at that time.  He would have to try tomorrow morning to see if Graves was possibly down there, and now he was determined to remember to go.  Once he got back to the barracks, he would make sure to write himself a note inside his locker, reminding him.  He only hoped that he would get decent sleep tonight, so as to not bypass his first alarm and want to sleep for a little while longer, and risk cutting his time short.

He thought it strange that he had been having trouble waking up lately.  Even if he only had an hour of sleep, he still managed to wake up with relative ease and be able to function normally.  He had always been a morning person, and prior to joining the army, he didn't know the meaning of insomnia.

Of course, things had been a little bit simpler when he was younger, even if he had the occasional woe of a typical teenager that might keep him up a night or two worrying.  But since he joined, and even more so since the incidents, he hadn't really felt like he knew or even understood what sleep was.  At times he was afraid to sleep, afraid that he would dream and experience things that happened to him, and maybe even things that didn't, but were only his mind deciding to torture him with thoughts of possibilities.

He only recalled getting what he would consider as of late, a decent rest, and that was when he was with Zack.  The softness of the bed and blankets … of Zack's touch and skin …   even the soft groans that Zack made as he slept – all of it was comforting.  The man was holding him, almost protecting him as he slept, and he felt safe from his past and safe from his own mind.  Nightmares did not come around that night after their shower together, sleep came faster than he could even comprehend.  It was what he would like to think of as bliss to be, and it was made even more meaningful because it was shared with Zack.

Cloud wanted that again.  He needed that again, no matter how pathetic the concept.  It wasn't for the nightmare-free sleep, or even for the comfort of the bed itself, even though it was really nice.  It was for knowing that Zack was beside him, watching over him.  He would be there for him even if sleep were to somehow not come, and they could perhaps talk all night, or even just lie there together in silence until the sun began to rise, like how they did once before.  It was enticing, and even though the thought of it invoked a sort of relaxation in him, he still couldn't bring himself to feel happy entirely.

He questioned himself, and he questioned his feelings.  He worried that he was just using Zack for comfort because he was there offering it to him.  If Zack never even knew about the first incident, where would they be?  Still just friends?  Still just silently wondering what the other was thinking, if anything at all, and then just eventually giving up and moving on?  

Who would he have turned to, if it hadn't been Zack, for that matter?  Who would have been so devoted, so supportive of him if it wasn't him?

All of this was beginning to bring what little mood lift that he had about thinking of Zack back down again, and it helped transition him right into feeling frustrated and dejected over his lunch being over.  He was thankful that this time he made it back before time ran out, and was thankful that he didn't go down to the barracks by accident again.  He was still angry at himself for having done that, and vowed to watch the clock more carefully from then on.

Then he was faced with the rest of his shift, and it was slow and more than aggravating.  Patience was long since gone, left at the doors of the office and forgotten as soon as he entered.  He found himself getting frustrated with a few people on the phones, and it seemed he was receiving no sympathy from either of the two doctors there in the office.  Not even when he had a SOLDIER snap at him for something he didn't even do.  Apparently, someone in the office had given him the wrong time of his appointment, and he was thirty minutes late.  At that point, the doctor who was supposed to see him had already taken someone else instead.

Cloud almost wished that the blonde psychologist was there.  He imagined – hoped – that she would have at least showed some compassion for him, but then again he was there to do a job, and so was she.

But after that, his attention began to slip, and the rest of his day slipped as well.  Closing time came quick, the lights turned off and the computers shut down.  He received uninterested goodbyes from the rest of the staff, and he found himself walking swiftly to the cafeteria.  

He spotted Kumpf and Zabalza sitting at a table, and he sighed with relief as they waved him over once he exited the line.  He never thought he would feel so happy to see them, and as he slipped into a seat on the other side of them, he found himself smiling to both of them.  It felt strange to do, and yet he couldn't stop himself, not because he never smiled at them, but he hadn't felt like he had smiled at anyone for any reason in quite a long while.

Kumpf smiled back slowly, almost looking amused at Cloud's reaction to seeing them.  "Rough day, Strife?"

"You could say that," Cloud said through another sigh, his smile fading.  He jabbed his fork into the grilled chicken breast he managed to grab, thankful that Monday's dinner menu wasn't as bad as its lunch menu.  He was also thankful that he was able to get it.  Usually by the time he got around to the line, the good stuff was already taken.  

"Yeah, man, you look like shit," Zabalza said.

"I wouldn't say shit, more like crap.  There's a difference," Kumpf said.  "Don't mislead the guy."

Cloud chuckled dryly, partly because he was too hungry to find humor in that nonsense.  "Well, as long as I don't look like total shit, then I think I'm okay."

The two men scoffed a laugh and resumed eating their dinner.

It felt good to talk with them, even though they were doing most of the talking.  He just sat and ate, listening to them converse about their time in the field the previous night.

"Was the barrack lonely without us making all kinds of noise?"

Cloud looked up to Kumpf and shrugged, even though he was saying yes in his head.  "Nah, it wasn't so bad.  I was able to concentrate on reading."

"Man," Zabalza said, after swallowing an impressive bite of mashed potatoes.  "If I had the barracks to myself, I'd be whacking off all day long.  I'd be chafed by the time everyone got back, but I'd sure as hell be content."

Both Cloud and Kumpf nearly choked on their food, not at what Zabalza said, but how he had said it.  His seriousness was questionable, and really, they couldn't exactly judge him, as most of the men longed to have time to themselves.  Being surrounded by other people and with a lack of women, or men, for some, did not make private matters very easy to deal with.

Kumpf eventually calmed himself and shook his head.  "That's what lotion is for, dipshit."

"I'm a man, I don't use lotion."

"What about the lube that some of the guys used to refill everyone's shampoo with for that prank?"

Cloud snorted.  "Are we really talking about this?"
"Well, what's wrong with it?  You can't tell me that you didn't do that when you were 'reading'.  You had the fuckin' barracks to yourself.  Any man in their right and horny mind would do that."

Cloud fidgeted a little and stammered.  He actually hadn't even thought of doing something like that, let alone even with Zack.  After the last time with Zack, he realized how strange it felt.  He loved being with him, and it did feel good, but in retrospect, it was not really something he felt like doing.  The psychologist had told him gently that engaging in such acts was probably not something he should be doing.  He didn't even listen to her, as his main concern was trying to keep things normal with Zack, but the more and more he thought about it, the more it seemed like something … he just didn't feel like doing.

And Zack had noticed as he tried in the shower.  Cloud knew that he was forcing himself, and as much as he tried to be turned on for him, he just couldn't bring himself into that mindset.

So what Zabalza was implying struck him as weird at first, but had this been any other time, well … he was human, after all.

"C'mon, Strife, it's cool.  We all know you were fappin' to Graves' porno mags."

"Whatever, man," Cloud said, forcing the best nonchalant voice he could manage.

They fell silent for a bit, Cloud because he was uncomfortable, and the other two because they were busy shoveling in the last of their meal into their mouths.

"Speaking of Graves," Zabalza said, pushing his tray off to the side once he was finished.  "What happened in Kalm?"

"Yeah, you allowed to talk about it?" Kumpf said, doing the same with his tray.

Cloud looked to the both of them from behind his hair, his head aimed slightly down.  "What do you mean?"

"Are you clear to talk about it?  Or is Shin-Ra gonna kick your ass if you do?" Zabalza said.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes going down to the table.  "I don't know.  N-nothing really happened.  Just … ran into a little bit of trouble, that's all."

"A bit of trouble?  A bit?  Dude, you were fucked up," Zabalza said, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and what looked like concern as he spoke.  "We all thought you'd die on us during the drive back.  You were so out of it that your motion sickness didn't even affect you."

Cloud shifted in his seat nervously.  He tried to think of something, anything he could use as a cover for what really happened.  "I'm … not supposed to talk about it, actually."    

A few minutes of silence went by, and they both took turns glancing between Cloud and each other with disappointment and skepticism.

But the silence was broken when Cloud frowned as a thought registered in his head.  "Wait … what did you mean by 'speaking of Graves'?"

They both gave him a questioning gaze, but it went unnoticed as he was still looking away from them, almost as if he was afraid to know the answer.  

"Haskin said he saw him chasing Mejia outta the town.  They're the ones that shoved him down," Zabalza finally said.

"Yeah, that's why we were worried about you.  You know … after what happened a few weeks ago.  When Haskin said he saw Angels, and then we saw you so hurt, we just kinda put two and two together," Kumpf said, shrugging a little.

"Graves … was there?  In Kalm?"

"Haskin was sure of it.  Haven't seen the guy lately.  I thought he was just sent out on a mission, but he wasn't in uniform when Haskin saw him."

Zabalza leaned forward in his seat.  "So … did Mejia do anything to you?"

Cloud blinked hard, trying to steady the feeling of the room spinning.  Blood was pounding in his ears.  "Mejia …?"  He looked off to the side in confusion.

"Yeah, Angels.  He's from Kalm, did you know that?  That's probably where he ran off to when he got caught trying to rape you."

"Dude, I didn't know that he was from Kalm," Kumpf said, turning his attention away from Cloud.  "Makes sense he would run there.  Wonder why Shin-Ra didn't bother looking for him there."

"They probably did, but knowing that sleaze-fuck, he probably either bribed the men off or managed to hide somewhere.  You know how sly he is.  Much too much for his own good."

"You know, I heard rumor that he was with someone in our unit for a while," Kumpf said, thoughtfully.

Zabalza nodded, folding his arms over his chest in thought as well.  "Yeah, heard that too.  Wonder which guy would be able to tolerate that fuck."

Kumpf scoffed.  "Well, seeing how he tried to rape Strife here, he probably was abusive.  Probably threatened whoever he was with to do whatever he wanted."

"I'm surprised he hasn't tried getting at Strife sooner.  He always seemed to have some sort of extra anger towards him-"

The sound of Cloud's fork dropping onto the table clattered in front of them, and they jumped, their attention being righted to Cloud, rather on each other.  A guilty look swarmed both of their faces as they realized a bit too late how insensitive they had been.  Talk was cheap in the army, and gossip was never really realized it was actually gossip until it hurt someone.  It was just conversation to the men, and for some people, would stay just conversation even if they knew it did hurt.  It just wouldn't stop them, and half of the time it wasn't meant to be malicious, but was just done out of sheer boredom.  But Kumpf and Zabalza regretted their bad habit when they saw that Cloud was trembling in his seat, his hand still stuck in the position of holding the utensil.

"Shit, Strife," Kumpf started rather lamely, "we're sorry.  We … weren't thinking."

"Yeah, sorry, bro.  You mad?"

"But … Ratcliff said… Graves …"  Cloud was beginning to sway in his seat, the look in his eyes distant and hazy.  He was glancing between the two men, but didn't seem to actually be looking at them.  It was more of a look that was trying to search into their expressions for the truth to what had been said.  But they gave no indication that there was anything misleading about what they were saying, and in fact, the seriousness that fell over them would have been alarming had Cloud not been reeling.

Kumpf was peering at Cloud with uncertainty now, and he began to process the blond's sudden and strange behavior.  "What about Ratcliff?  What did he say to you?"

"Was it something about Graves?  What does he know about him?"

"He lied," Cloud muttered.

"Lied?  About what?  You're not making any sense, Strife," Zabalza said, rubbing his brow.

"No … it's nothing."  Cloud shook his head mindlessly, his voice coming out monotone and barely above a whisper.  

Kumpf and Zabalza watched him as he rose slowly, his head still shaking and with a look of trying to search through some sort of confusion in his mind.  He stood rather clumsily, his knees hitting underneath the table, and he seemed to have trouble with his coordination as he brought his legs over the bench seat.  He grabbed his dinner tray without even so much as looking at it and he tossed the leftovers away without even so much as looking as if he were paying attention.  And the two men glanced amongst themselves as Cloud left without another word through the double doors.

One final wary glance between them, and they resumed chatting about nothing in particular.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
… To be continued in Chapter Thirty-Two: Flight.