.:: Nightmare ::.
The all-too familiar sound of gunshots rippled the air about him. Limply, the body lay forgotten as the raven-haired man unsheathed his sword against the foes. The blade sung as it cut down three more soldiers, the haunting echo of their guns still ringing as they fell to the ground.
Agate eyes swiveled back to the forgotten figure, laying face down upon the ground. Bounding back on weakening legs, sword glinting in the murky light of morning, the man crouched beside the other. That, gaze, still blank, gave no notice of their pursuers. And the body, still lifeless, revealed no injury by the bullets that had grazed the older.
Yet, even as the face wearing those green eyes returned to their assailants, etched with a righteous anger, gunshots sliced through the short silence. Unprepared, bullets sliced through soft cloth, marring the chest of the raven-haired protector. He flew backwards, accosting the ground in agony as the blood began to stain his armor. A gloved hand held still to the sword, refusing to relinquish the weapon, as if hoping that his body would garner enough will to stand once more.
The pain though, it wrung through him. Breaths came out with only forced determination, ragged and haggard from the metal piercing his system. Yet, not even the obvious pain of their prey could stop the gun-wielding men as they dashed forward. Two stood their distance, merely watching, as the gun hovered before the glowing gaze. Masked was the face of the blue-garbed man who stood before the protector, barrel to the afterlife aimed for his eyes.
Time seemed to slow, as a soft flutter of fear penetrated the protector's mind. No, not death. A fate worse than death. He had failed to protect the one he loved… twice now. And, this nonce, this present, should not have been. Because…
The silence that was the raven-haired man's thoughts was shattered as the bullet's exploded from the shooter's well-trained hands. They tumbled, like rain, across the bleeding man's body. And, as if a splitting acid's fall, coated every fragment of his form imaginable. His throat was torn, split, and his body raised as the bullet's rain continued to his stomach, curling in to stop the murderous assault.
The sweating head met the earth again as the familiar sound of reloading accosted the swordsman's ears, accompanied by the rapid beating of his heart and rapidly shallow breath. This was how he would die… suffering and bleeding until at last his breath faltered. But, this moment should not have been. Because…
But, the bullets rainfall began again. The man's thoughts were torn, ripped, and shredded as the gun found its aim trailing to his head.
The last thing he saw was the bullet before it dove down into his mind and the green-hued city above him.
… but, because of Nibelheim it was…
Violet eyes flashed open with a start. Sweat poured from the shaking body as a hand warily rose to meet the flushed warmth of his forehead. A trembling breath escaped his lips as he felt still the solidity of his skin there, and not the bullet that he had perceived.
The welcoming shadows of the ceiling, and not the polluted sky, danced across his bleary vision as his palm rest across his forehead. His rubbed the imagined pain of the steel intrusion with his hand as his body trembled still with the realism of the dream. The man's free hand found itself upon his chest, delicately touching the areas where the phantom pain had inflicted, whilst hoping to calm the uneven beating of his heart. A numbing fear still clawed at him as he recalled each protrusion by the bullets, and each breath that left him reminding him of those in the nightmare.
Zack needed to move.
A sidelong glance ensured that those silver-locks still rose and fell across the naked chest of his lover before the raven-haired man pulled away the sheets covering himself, almost breathing a sigh of relief when he found no blood marring them. Quietly, Zack relinquished the bed to the larger of them as he stood, stumbling slightly as his knees grew weak.
Tanned hands stretched out and caught the raven-haired man before he could fall to the floor. The barely audible thump was enough to result in the stirring of the form behind Zack, alone in the bed. Quickly, lest he be caught in such weakness, the man pulled himself to his feet. A gentle swaying met his head, and the fear still clung to him. But, with the slow breaths he forced, violet eyes closed again.
"… Zachary…?" came the question. Soft, soothing… familiar. The deep baritone that was Sephiroth's velvety voice beseeched his ears in an almost loving caress. It was, as if without even touching him, those strong arms were wrapping around him and telling him not to be afraid.
But, he was… by the gods, he was…
Forcing away the trembling, the raven-haired man turned to face his lover, eyebrows quirking in answer. "Yeah?" Oh gods… was his voice… shaking? Please, don't let it be shaking… he didn't want to make Sephiroth worry. No, not after all they had been through.
The silver-haired man seemed to regard his other half with inquisition, glowing green cat-eyes narrowed in the soft shadows of his face. He sat now on the bed, propped up on his elbows as his muscled frame was revealed in the faint light that shone through the window. Zack was sure the man had heard him gasping for breath as he awoke from that nightmare. But, really hoped he hadn't.
Was that his knees shaking? Curse them! Never worked right when he needed them! But, whether or not it was from the lingering fear or possibility of melting into his lover's arms, Zack wasn't sure. Really, though, he doubted Sephiroth would believe the latter.
"Is something the matter?" came the gentle inquisition. If heard by another, such might have been such a cold and callous question, especially given the situation. But, the raven-haired man knew his lover much better than that. In fact, he probably knew more of the general's quirks than the man gave credit to. That delicate murmur of concern embellishing that voice was more than enough to attempt breaking the façade Zack was putting up.
"No…" came the lie between clenched teeth. "I was just getting some water." And, even though the last was not necessarily deceitful, it still felt that way. Zack hoped, prayed, that Sephiroth didn't see through his falsehood. No, not tonight. Not with the mission so close…
Ah, but those eyes. Those jades that could pierce any soul narrowed further. The man could see the lie. It was practically floating in the air between them!
"Zachary." It was the warning voice, that voice he heard when his patience was being tested with obvious idiots. Short and clipped as always. It was still the low baritone that marked Sephiroth in his entirety, but now it had lost some of its soft gentleness, if not all.
Violet eyes looked away from the glare, a slight blush of shame creeping up into his cheeks. Taking no chances with the increasingly short temper of the general, Zack crept back to the bed. And, as he stood at the edge, his chanced a glance back at his lover.
Yet, still, the glare was fixated in that glowing gaze. And the raven-haired man obeyed the unspoken wish to crawl back into the empty bed beside them. But, even when he did that, nude body now adorned with the white of the sheets, the glare did not abate.
Tenuously, Zack's purple gaze met his lover's again. "Do not lie to me," came the growl from above him. And though those strong hands did not move, the eyes boring down at him hurt as much as the appendages would have.
"I know naught where you have been disappearing late in the evenings; but, gods be damned if you're acquiring water." Sephiroth hissed. The raven-haired man wanted to look away, but knew now was past the appropriate time. He could hold his head in shame, let tears run down his cheeks as his disgrace clawed at him, but he wouldn't. Not with Sephiroth. This was not how he would act.
The general leaned closer to his lover, the glower still etched within his eyes. "Just because I fuck you does not mean that I let you walk free." Zack felt his shame creep back up on him, but bit it back. He knew the general meant the security level his apartment was perched on. The one with the important documents and ShinRa secrets, some of which he had taken the liberty to browse through. "And because I call you mine, you are mine."
At the words the younger of them looked away. He knew what Sephiroth was referring to now. That time when he had snuck away back to the barracks only to find a wandering group of SOLDIER brand Firsts in the Thirds quarters and was decidedly, well… at least the general had bought the lie and didn't force an end to the lives of the five men. It was better that Zack receive a heated glare telling his lover a furtive lie about sleeping around then having murder lay heavily on his shoulders.
Like he was right now.
Except without the murder threat.
"And Zachary," was the general's snarl as his one-sided argument continued. "because I know this you have to leave."
At the words, wide purple eyes shot up to meet those of jade. But, they were unmoving, cold, and hard. Did he just…? Was he saying…? Horror filtered through the raven-haired man's system. The clawing numbness returned with full force, making his breath almost impossible to draw. Just like that dream. That damned fucking dream! Was… was this like that dream??
Shaking once more, one of Zack's hand reached out to touch Sephiroth. But it was batted away. Forcefully.
"Get out," came the hiss, accosting his ears in its virulent tone.
It was so hard to breath… Did Sephiroth really just… just…? "What?" Zack whispered back, his voice close to breaking. The eyes of his lover still pierced him with their icy indifference, even through the mist of tears that met his violet gaze.
"Get out." It was a threat now. Each word punctuated with an acidy slithering hatred.
Body trembling, the raven-haired man knew, in the rational part of his mind, that his should obey his general's order. But, but… he was… afraid….
Obviously, when Zack made no intention of moving, his superior decided to move him personally. A hard fist met itself in the younger's toning stomach, knocking nearly the life from him as his body curled around the pain. He felt himself falling, accosting the ground with struggled breath as his eyes blinked away the tears. It was… the dream? No…
Oh gods… help him…
It was all… too much….
A hand jerked him to his feet, thrusting a bundle in his arms as he stumbled. Zack's couldn't help the fresh tears that trailed down his cheeks as he opened his eyes to stare down at his clothes, body shaking with silent sobs as that fear engulfed him entirely. Trembling, the raven-haired man did as he was silently commanded. He pulled on the clothes that marked him as a SOLDIER First without any pride.
Hadn't it been just a few hours ago that his lover had gently kissed him, congratulating him on his years of work to achieve that status, that skill? Hadn't his lover been the one to tenderly undress him, a smile on his lips as they began to taste the love they had for each other again? Why was it now… now that… it was all to pieces?
As the final piece of his uniform was in place, Zack allowed the calloused hand to pull his arm to the door, leading him numbly from what had been a happy life. He didn't understand. He was afraid. What had happened?
The door to the brightly lit hallway swung open, but Zack wasn't thrown out, as expected. Rather, given a forceful shove. He stumbled slightly. Yet, as he turned his tear-stained face back to the doorway his lover had led him through after returning from the war, it was closed. Aside from the clink of a lock going into place, silence echoed through the corridor.
Defeated, afraid, cold, and now, alone, Zack wanted to curl up onto the ground, to beg and plead for Sephiroth's forgiveness, to do something – anything! But… he didn't. He just stood there, staring at the metalloid entrance to his love's home, knowing he would never be allowed in again.
It was… too much…
He needed… needed sleep, food, air – something.
The raven-haired man shook his head, turning towards the stairs. Would it matter, maybe, if he was caught breaking curfew again? Would it matter now that Sephiroth had, for some reason, attempted to cast Zack out of his life forever…?
His black tresses coruscated in the light as he shook his head, gloved hand on the door. He didn't know… he needed… he needed sleep.
As the door to the stairs opened, the black-haired man felt, strangely, as if he was looking down the stairway to Hell's bowels. He hoped, prayed, that this was really the nightmare… wishing that he would return, awaken, within the arms of his beloved as he opened violet eyes.
Ignoring the fresh tears, Zack began to descend the staircase.
A/N: Sorry for well… the weirdness of writing in the chapter… and the lack of getting to the important part! O-o But, that'll come around next chapter (if there is a next chapter!). But remember, kiddies, be sure to review if you liked it. I mean seriously, if lack of anything better to say, just say: more. I'm the review monster…. I need reviews to sustain me. And maybe Zack's luck will turn around.