CROSS ZONE: Zack never made it into SOLDIER; he couldn't pay the entrance fee. Instead, he makes a life for himself as a jack-of-all-trades in the sector seven slums. Then one day the plate falls down on his head…

Part One

Chapter One

Seeing them interact was just slightly surreal.

"Shinra says that AVALANCHE did it. They're terrorists you know…"

They looked sad, and it made them want to hit them, knock them out, drop a plate on their heads. They didn't have any reason to be upset – sure, they lost a few people, but sadly for them he couldn't feel sympathy for those to blame – for those who took absolutely everything from him.

"The new president isn't going to rebuild Sector Seven! What? Why not? If they don't then no one can get in there and bury the dead."

Selfish. They were just selfish, and he felt too worn out to do anything about it. What was there to do, anyway? He could attack them, sure, but he knew from personal experience that they would hand his ass to him in a heartbeat.

And that was if he was lucky.

If he wasn't they would decide it wasn't worth having the pretty martial artist bash his head in with the heel of her boot; they would simply tell the massive man with the gun to fill him full of holes and have that be the end of it.

He clutched the drink in his hand tightly. He couldn't exactly remember what said pretty martial artist had told him it was. He didn't really care. If she poisoned him, then so be it. It felt like he were dead already.

It was certainly less painful than his other options.

Don't think like that, Zack. You need to stay positive.

But it was hard. It was hard to think of anything. Brief flashes of the plate falling drowned out everything; it made it hurt to breathe, to think, to remain calm or maybe to react. He wasn't entirely sure.

Strangely enough, though, they had yet to notice. The large, darkly skinned gunman ranted about how horrible Shinra was, how inhumane, how monstrous. Zack ground his boot into the floorboards. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was somehow supposed to blame this 'tragedy' solely on Shinra when those who caused it were standing right in front of him. When their fight ended hundreds of thousands of lives.

Those in the other sectors called it a tragedy, blamed AVALANCHE and all their blinded hatred. It was ironic, really; AVALANCHE managed to turn the people who hated Shinra and its classist society against AVALANCHE itself. The people were never more in favour for Shinra, but he supposed that wouldn't last. The people would turn their hatred back on Shinra the moment AVALANCHE leaves the scene… he just knew they would. Their hatred was fickle. It changed with the win because at the end of the day Shinra had SOLDIER and the Turks and then the ever-present Peace Keeping Troops.

This time could be different, he supposed.

But Sector Seven's annihilation was not a tragedy. A tragedy was the unexpected loss of something valuable for the sake of something else. A tragedy would be giving your life to save a friend. Shinra dropping Sector Seven on AVALANCHE was annihilation.

Yet the guy still stood there, spewing his hatred about Shinra, and its vile ways even though in reality if his group had not waged war in the first place, none of it would have happened. Hundreds of thousands of lives wouldn't be buried underneath metal, dug so far into the dirt that he doubted there was even bones left saving.

"You need to stay positive."

He gulped his drink, forced the liquid down, and, keeping an open, interested expression on his face, he glanced around the church.

The dark skinned man was ranting, and while he didn't really care as to whom, it turned out to be Tifa, the dark haired martial artist who had kicked him in the head when he first stumbled into their hideout by accident. He still had a bright purple bruise from it, and it stung smartly.

"Barrett," she interjected, the hand at her side clenched painfully into a fist. He wondered briefly if she was going to punch the man. "I don't… I can't hear it right now." His interest was lost, and his eyes drifted over to where the more interesting member of the group existed.

The last was the blonde haired SOLDIER that had briefly – apparently – replaced Sephiroth during the great general's MIA. Apparently the rest of the group didn't know a thing about him, other than that fact, although Tifa kept glancing at him with an expression that seemed more familiar than the previous statement would have let on.

"We need to decide on how we're going to meet up with Aerith." Tifa was talking again. Well, not again like it was irritating, but again as in she was addressing everyone. He wondered if that everyone included him.

"Am I apart of that 'we'?" He asked, gaining attention from everyone in the room. The SOLDIER shrugged, and looked off to the side – what a cold guy.

Too bad his own thoughts carried the lacklustre he feared.

"Of course." Tifa interjected. It seemed to be the only thing she could say, considering the moment of uneasy silence that followed his question. "If you want to, of course you could come!" She was trying to hold the group together, trying to fight through her own remorse.

He wondered how great would her guilt be if she learned he had lost everything when the plate crashed down? That the girl he liked had died, that his boss, friends, rival, drinking buddies, co-workers, lovers, and whatever else affiliation he had with them had died? That he was the only one left.

Talk about survivor's guilt.

Was it true? He nodded to Tifa's question, while simultaneously nodding to his own. It would be pretty inhuman if he couldn't feel guilt for it. However the amount felt sickening.

Silence. Again with the silence. As if they had something to really grieve. Well, all right. Perhaps they did have a reason; perhaps it was only in his perspective that they seemed like the lucky ones. Most of them would have the burden that the plate falling was their own fault, except maybe the SOLDIER, but he seemed messed up in general.

"Aerith should be back by now."

"Aerith?" He asked. Another buddy? Great. Lucky him. Next he's going to find out that they have an entire platoon of members that live in Sector Three or something.

"She's a friend of ours," Tifa explained. They use that term too lightly. Strangers that you fight beside are not automatically your friends. "This is her church," she said, gesturing around. "We asked her to take Marlene to a safe place."

"This… Marlene… was in Sector Seven, wasn't she?"

Tifa looked off to the side, and nodded. Barrett just looked mean. Or like he was going to shoot him for asking. Or like he was going to step on all the flowers.

Strangely enough, he felt himself getting to his feet. Well, it was true that they were pretty, but he didn't really need to go to their defence, did he? Oh, right. They were flowers in the slums. It was impressive anything grew here.

"Don't you think that!" Barrett yelled. "Marlene is jus' fine!"

"Hey, hey," he tried, he really did, he made his face as open as possible, as honest as he could, even used his hands to gesture calmness. "I didn't mean it like that! Of course she's fine!" It wasn't in his course to lie to others. He usually believed that they could handle the truth, but Barrett was different.

Barrett had a gun arm. Not a gun in hand, but a gun arm. You don't mess with people who could just lift their arm and shoot many, many bullets at once.

"Can you fight?" The soft voice surprised him slightly, and he looked over. Oh, SOLDIER.

"A bit," he replied. A bit more than a bit, a bit enough to take down a SOLDIER 3rd (with lots and lots of luck) that had started to attack him back in Junon for some reason or other. Apparently he looked like someone they were after. Angeal – or Angel, or something.

The SOLDIER hadn't died. That had probably been the only thing that guy had over him; SOLDIER were really hard to take down. At least they were with mako enhancements and formal training.

Come now, Zack, you weren't able to pay for the entrance fee before, what makes you think you could now, when all your wealth is under a trash pile of metal and wires. Not to mention bodies, blood, lives, homes…

"I'll teach you some, then." And then the SOLDIER looked off. "We can't have you being defenceless if you're coming with us."

"Gee, thanks." SOLDIER 1st…. ha, the man was going to whoop his ass. He may be good, but that was pure instinct and learned talent. Even he knew he used too much energy in his movements, but he didn't exactly have the time or the space to practice real stances.

"It's true… um, what was your name again?" Tifa butted in. He felt bad for thinking that was what she was doing, but he honestly did not like the feeling of being coddled. Not by her, whose motherly tendencies seemed to arise out of her guilt rather than a desire to do good.

"Zack Fair."

She paused a moment, like she had heard his name before, before shaking it off and nodding. "Zack, Cloud can teach you a lot."

Cloud. That was the SOLDIER's name. Better remember that. He nodded. "Gotcha."

He didn't like the way she was smiling at him; its dishonesty was so thick it looked like she was choking on it. Really, if you wanted to grieve, then grieve. She was around others that would understand. He was around others he quite honestly wanted to kill.

Then… why didn't he?

Oh… right. Gun arm and SOLDIER. Those two were quite the impressive body-guards. He sighed, before he looked over to the flowers, bright yellow and white. They amazed him a little, and brought along a sense of nostalgia. He swore he had seen them before, and sickeningly enough, that little girl's voice popped into his head unbidden, "Zaacckkk! Get me some flowers!"

He hadn't.

He shifted on his feet, trying to remember where exactly he had seen them. Yes, An- that girl wanted them, but it wasn't as if they were on sale or anything, they had been-

"You don't think Aerith got caught, do you?" Tifa worried. She needed to stop doing that. It was putting the other two on edge. "Not under the plate; I mean by Shinra."

"We should go and look for her," he suggested lazily, "ask if anyone has seen her around?" Like the smart thing to do; but then again, what would they know about that? Of course, if he were any less pissed off, he might have had it suggested to him as well. A sardonic attitude didn't fit him at all.

They all stared at him, as if his idea was ludicrous, before the SOLDIER shrugged, Tifa nodded, and Barrett spit. Well… it looked like that was what he was doing.

"We should. It's better than hanging around here, at least." Tifa, Tifa, Tifa… Zack wondered if it was an act or if she always was so… nurturing.

The SOLDIER stood up, and Zack had to take a moment to register it, because the guy was small. Well, not midget small, but he was short. Zack tilted his head, looking down at the blonde. Well, what did you know?

"So, you're getting all packed up to gear, eh, Spiky?" He teased, even though he hardly felt like it.

The blonde paused for a moment, before looking over at Zack, a worried expression befalling his countenance. He nodded mutely, and then, just like that, the timid behaviour was gone – vanished, vamoose! It was almost laughable at how quickly he went from being an insecure person to a confident man. Real funny.

He kept the seething comment to himself.

"Let's go," Cloud nodded to the door and proceeded. The action allowed Zack a look at the odd looking blade on his shoulder. It was too thin for Zack's taste, though he couldn't afford his taste, and had springs inside of it, almost as if the blade had room to give before it would stab. Seemed useless, but hey, if it worked, then it worked.

To say meeting that woman again was awkward would be an understatement. A huge understatement, and to say that being chased out with a broom was an everyday occurrence would be… well… correct in relation to her. Elmyra. The crazy lady who tried to have him weed the flowers near her house as a help to her daughter or something. He wasn't made for delicate stuff; he didn't know why it was such a surprise when he ended up breaking their stems.

It was a complete accident, honest!

He rubbed his shoulder as he sighed. Of course the crazy old bat would invite the others in for tea and story time about that damn daughter of hers. After all, he was just the bulldozer, wasn't he? He sighed, and looked up, to where the rare crack in the plate above gave into sunlight.

He didn't want the others too see. It felt too… personal. Like his grief. Then again, he also did not feel like showing them the hole he had patched up in his side. Crappy second hand materia that never evolved had done the trick to stop the bleeding, and he was used to it.

Though, to be honest, it was probably because he was turning into a masochist. After all, why did he come out of it with a mere impalement wound, when everyone else got smashed under metal? He deserved the scar, he deserved the pain, but he did not want to die. He wouldn't let himself die.

Then again, AVALANCHE didn't either.

He rubbed his eyes. He had already come to the decision, so there was no point in thinking on it. Shinra was the one who dropped the plate, so he would go and get revenge for it. AVALANCHE was only slightly more the victim than the instigator, so he would give them a chance to redeem themselves.

That was his decision.

He was going to stick with it.

He chuckled slightly. It would probably help his case if he could feel anything other than extreme fatigue. Like lethargy had taken hold and made living as hard as swimming through molasses just to find some semblance of anger.

The door opened. "Zack?" Tifa inquired, and he felt even wearier because of it. He looked over, a little disgruntled at having been kicked out, and raised a brow.

"Yeah?"

"Marlene's here," she told him, and it took him a moment to remember who Marlene was, before he nodded. "And I was right," she said as she stepped outside and closed the door. "So, I have a question?"

"What is it?"

"Are you willing to break into Shinra and get Aerith back with us?"

He was all for breaking into Shinra, he was all for getting some girl back, the real question was if he willing to go with them? He thought for a moment, before deciding grudges weren't really his style. He shrugged.

"Guess I don't have a choice; can't let a pretty girl go around without a body guard."

He wasn't sure if he was talking about Tifa or this Aerith.

A/N: This is a complete rewrite of the first chapter. Yes, I know it's been a freakishly long time since I've done anything with this fic, but I hope to change that. So, to mostly hopefully new readers, enjoy! To my possibly not old readers, I'm sincerely sorry that you have more than likely forgotten what happens. I hope my rewrite will give you a good enough incentive to reread. Thank you!