[ He knows this man--Zack Fair--is touching him, and he knows that if he were in his right mind, if he knew, if it were anyone else: he would push him off. But there's something about the touch that's oddly soothing; there's something about it that pulls something inside of him, something that starts to knit together the frayed ends, trimming them down as though to cause him less mental chaos. The wave of warmth from the magic doesn't help, much, but it does give him something else to focus on: and the pain, at least, goes down, a thrumming sort of throbbing in the back of his head instead of the front.

With a long, slow breath, he forces himself to focus on his surroundings. There's dirt beneath him, firm, and the smell of grass in the distance; there's the faint sound of the windmill, some people talking, even the sound of crates and bags and other typical farming noises. He isn't home. He isn't there.

He isn't in his memories. There's just--this place. Nowhere else.

Carefully, he relaxes his hands; they stay, almost fearful, clutched around his head, like he's afraid to look up and see Zack's face. ]

...Yeah. Sorry. Guess I... I might need to...take a break for awhile.

[ A long, slow breath. ] You... You're SOLDIER, right? So you're...from... Midgar. Right?