Ambition

bombarded by the atmosphere
you breath, you choke, you breath again
conversation disappears
you realize they're not your friends
the panic of the future rears
you dig, you jerk
you find another way

--Our Lady Peace, "Right Behind You"

**

"Name."

The voice seemed extremely sharp and stern, spat out in a way that almost made Zack want to flinch. It was obvious that the woman standing before him, a pen held tightly in her hand, hovering just centimeters above a clipboard equipped with some paper – complicated forms and records, by the look of it – was rather used to this. And not in a good way. More like in a "Why-do-I-have-to-do-this-yet-another-time?" way. Then again, he could easily be hearing things, letting himself be too sensitive and taking it all the wrong way, considering he was pretty nervous. For all he knew this lady was the nicest person in the world, and he was just forcing her utterances to sound mean and distasteful.

Then he realized he actually had to provide her with some sort of response. He stuttered the two words out in a flustered manner. "Zachary Knightblade." He winced as he heard it leaving his mouth, for he hated the longer version of his first name. He doubted she would have believed that his parents had just named him "Zack", though, and it was better not to cause too much trouble.

"Age."

Okay, this was a lot easier, especially since he could give this answer with quite a bit of pride. "Seventeen."

The woman paused, as she had been ready to jot the number down, and she slowly lifted her head to give him an annoyed stare, pinning him down with that glare in her eyes. Okay, he hadn't been hallucinating; she was in a nasty mood. "There's no need, Zachary, to be making up lies just so that you sound good," she stated blandly. "Now, what is your actual age?"

He really should have been expecting this sort of reaction, and his earlier timidity was completely thrown out the window as he instead took on an offended demeanor. "Look, lady, I may be young but I'm not lying to you! I'm not that low." His brow was set into a frown now as he impatiently waited for her response.

She didn't seem at all phased by his outburst. "You're saying that you got to SOLDIER, First Class at seventeen?" she asked calmly, obviously used to dealing with such crude acts as kids making up stories so that they would sound better.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," he responded boldly, no longer willing to back down to this woman or cower in fear. "You can check the records; I came here when I was fifteen, got into SOLDIER almost immediately, and then made my way up quick! Don't think I'm some sort of cheat just because I'm good." He couldn't help but be just a tad cocky when he would now be put into the record books for the youngest age to reach First Class.

"Oh, believe me, I will. I'll check in with your instructors, as well," she grumbled, writing out the given age for now, though she was quite prepared to change it later on. "Moving on, what's your hometown?"

"Gongaga," he responded, a bit more civil this time now that she had stopped arguing with him. Oh yes, she would see when she went to access the records, spoke to his combat masters, and they all told her the same thing, that yes, Zack was just that cool, that skilled, that he had made his way to the highest rank of SOLDIER in a heartbeat, from cadet to veteran in a scant two years.

She blinked. "Gongaga?"

Zack groaned in irritation. As usual, whenever he mentioned his hometown people looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. Not that he could actually blame them for the blunder; after all, Gongaga wasn't more than a little hole in the wall, located in the middle of nowhere, a tiny forest village that brought absolutely no attention to itself. That had been the problem; the place was so horribly bland that Zack knew he had to leave before he bashed his head in. No one there cared to learn about the outside world, and so he had been blissfully unaware of most of what was going on for the first fifteen years of his life.

A wandering traveler that just happened to pass through was his savior, the one that told him all about Midgar, Shin-Ra, and SOLDIER. He had known the basic details about Shin-Ra, what they were doing with Mako and all that, but that they were taking in boys for an elite fighting force, training them into battle-hardened warriors? That had been completely new, and he jumped on the opportunity like a dog to the scent.

"Yes, Gongaga… it's a tiny little town on the western continent, kind of close to Cosmo Canyon," he explained quickly.

The realization dawned over her face in a matter of seconds. Usually once he mentioned Cosmo Canyon, people just seemed to magically know where it was. He realized that they probably had no idea where or what it was, but instead would just rather not make him feel bad by rubbing in the fact that he was a country bumpkin, through and through. Well, he was used to it by now. And it wasn't like they'd be saying much once he was officially part of the First Class.

"How tall are you?" was the next question.

He let a mental sigh escape. He was pitifully short at this point, still, he thought, since supposedly his family was overall pretty tall, but he still had hope that he had one more growth spurt left before he was finished; he was only seventeen, after all, and the statistic was that boys stopped growing at nineteen or something like that. "Five feet, eight inches," he murmured. Now that he took a closer look, it even seemed like the one questioning him was taller than him. As were quite a few of his fellow SOLDIERs, and he was sure it would be worse now that he was grouped with a ton of guys older than him.

"And weight?"

"One hundred seventy-five," he responded. Even though he was short and fairly thin, he had a good amount of muscle from the constant training he'd been whipped through in the last two years; definitely not a body-builder, by any means, but he wasn't some scrawny little half-pint, either, even if his height was unfortunate.

She wrote down that amount before scanning over the paper quickly. "Well, that's about all I need to get from you; the rest I can obtain from your instructors or older records, I believe…" Nibbling on her bottom lip as she double-checked, she then gave a satisfactory nod and glanced over at him. "All right, Zachary, you're free to go get your uniform and they'll be reassigning your room to the First Class section. Don't think I won't be looking into your age, though. Dismissed."

It was with quite a bit of fervor that he made his way down the hallway once she had spoken that last word, eager to get away from the hag and get to the office that issued uniforms. While the red-colored Second Class ones were nice enough, he'd seen the bluish-purple ones that the First Class wore, and he wanted more than anything to get one of his own, have one and know that it belonged to him. A new room would be nice, too; he didn't particularly like the people he had to share his current one with.

It wasn't too long before he finally reached his destination, which was almost formed like a ticket counter, with a bored-looking man sitting behind a pane of glass. The room the man was in led into a storage area where all the uniforms were kept. He also printed up new dog tags when someone got a class change, right then and there, and even had the book that showed your new room number, and a set of keys for the rooms hanging neatly against the wall. A rather organized place, even if he spent most of the day standing there, doing nothing. Zack felt glad to be able to alleviate the dullness, if only temporarily, as he stepped up to the counter and grabbed the man's attention.

He looked up, even giving a small, rather tired smile, and then asked for Zack's name. He gave it somewhat grudgingly, and then the class he was being upgraded to. First he printed up the dog tags rather swiftly from a little machine that rested on the counter to his right side, it only taking a few minutes before the brand new slabs of metal were slid through the small opening under the glass, where Zack quickly grabbed them and pulled the chains over his neck, taking off his old ones and handing them over so that the man could dispose of them; Zack wasn't sure how that process worked, and would have asked him about it if he wasn't scared that that might put him in a foul mood.

"All right," the man said slowly as he clicked quickly through the computer, pulling up Zack's info and scanning it over until he found the height measurement, which had already been filed into the computer. Damn, that woman was fast. She had probably also finished checking for his age, and Zack had to grin when he tried to picture the baffled look on her face when she had realized he was telling the truth. However, the clerk here didn't seem to notice, only glancing at the one piece of information he needed so he knew what size uniform to get. "You're going to need a small…" he muttered to himself as he disappeared into the back room.

Zack scowled; he was hoping that he would have to get a size change in a couple months or so, since he was still rather determined in believing that that growth spurt was still coming, just sitting on the horizon. He was lucky that the man knew his job well, was back in a matter of seconds with a bag that he somehow managed to fit under the glass as well, and Zack pried it out with relish, rubbing his hands over the bag, knowing what lay inside. He almost ran off right there out of pure glee, but luckily he was halted by the man, who reminded him that he still needed his new room assignment.

"Okay, you'll be in A213," the other told him, pacing over to the rack of keys and searching for a few seconds before finding the appropriate one, pulling it off, and walking back to slide it over. Zack took it and placed it in his pocket. "Here's a map, too, just in case you have trouble finding it," he continued, handing that over as well. Zack took it even though he didn't think he'd have any problems.

He nodded, smiling brightly at the attendant. "Thanks a lot," he said. "Um, how many people will I have to share the room with?" he inquired.

"Oh, you didn't know? First Class SOLDIERs get their own private rooms, unless you want to stay with someone by request. You're on your own," the other explained.

Zack's somewhat Mako-tinted eyes widened until they were as large as saucers. "Are you serious?!" he bellowed, causing an echo to spread through the hallway and he threw his arms outward in disbelief.

The man seemed to wince at the enthusiastic boy's outburst, but gave him an assuring nod just the same. "Yep, that's right. They're pretty nice rooms, too. Big." He winked at him and then waved. "Take care, kid."

"Thanks!" he called back, now running off to find his room, excited to see if it really was big.

**

Well, even though Zack had claimed he had a good sense of the entire Shin-Ra building, it turned out he was sadly mistaken. He had gotten horribly lost while he was trying to find his room, and had been forced to swallow his pride and ask one of the First Class SOLDIERs who he found wandering around to show him where it was.

Zack was now busy pulling on his brand spanking new uniform; first the pants, with that spiffy belt which he took a few seconds to examine the buckle of. He had seen it before, but never so up close, and he wondered faintly what it meant, if it had any sort of story behind it, or if it was just a random design; then the shirt, which stylishly employed no sleeves. In certain ways, it seemed rather impractical, since sometimes they were sent on missions up into Icicle Inn, but he was sure they had some form of winter uniform he just hadn't heard of since he himself had never been sent up north.

The pauldrons came next, the pair of neat, spiky shoulder armor, and after that he pulled on the gloves, gauntlets, and boots. Once he was finished he turned to look in the mirror (they hadn't had a nice full-scale mirror in his old room) and examined himself with a self-serving smirk as he turned to the side and then faced away from it and tried to look over his shoulder to see what he looked like from the back. While he was doing this, however, a loud ringing sound caused him to jump a few feet in the air. He looked around frantically, trying to figure out what it was, when he saw a phone on the table next to his bed.

Whoa, we get phones? Awesome! He had always thought it was sort of stupid that they hadn't had telephones in the other rooms, since that made it rather impossible to contact people unless you had a PHS, and those were usually really expensive… He was beginning to get the feeling that Shin-Ra was just cheap and decided that only the best of the best deserved such luxuries. At least he was in that group now, got to indulge in these nicer points of life.

Still, who was calling him? He had moved in fifteen minutes ago, at most, and he doubted anyone was aware of it except for some of the officials. Maybe they were trying to contact the person who used to live there? Either way, he scrambled over, jumping on the bed and rolling across until he was close enough to pick up the receiver and place it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Is this Zachary Knightblade?"  The voice spoke on the other line, a hardened, masculine tone.

Zack blinked, seating himself down into a more comfortable position as he responded. "Uh, yes, this is he."

"How's your new room?" He supposed that the question was intended to sound comforting, but he found it failed rather miserably, still retaining the roughness that he didn't like very much.

"It's fine. Nice," he grinned, taking yet another look around even though he had explored every nick and cranny of it already, had done so when he had first gotten there.

"Well, Zachary—"

"Just call me Zack, if that's all right." Sort of bold, to interject on someone that seemed so harsh, but he really couldn't stand it when people called him that. It was like a crude word or an insult, and he just hated it.

"Okay, Zack… Anyways, I'm your new combat instructor. I train the First Class SOLDIERs. You'll either be calling me 'sir' or Pratchett from now on," he drilled.

Zack figured that was his last name; the instructors hardly ever gave away their first names, for whatever reason; although Pratchett itself was embarrassing enough. "Yes, sir," he answered, scared that if he used his name he might burst into giggles.

"Zack, how many Mako injections have you had so far?"

Zack frowned. That was sort of an odd question, though he figured he had a reason to be asking him, and it was probably one of the main reasons he even called. "Um, two, sir. One when I got into Third Class and one when I got into Second," he responded diligently.

"Good. That's the proper amount you should have for now. However, soldier, as you should know, First Class is a whole different playing field, and you're going to need a lot more of the stuff in ya' if you plan to survive out there. That means you're going to need to get some more injections, and probably more regularly." There was a short pause. "I don't know all of the details, really, but I'm sure they'll fill ya' in down at the lab. You know where it is, right?"

Zack moved the phone to the other ear nervously. "Yes, sir, I do." Still, after his little direction blunder earlier he decided it might be a good idea to take that map with him. "I'll go down there right now, sir."

"Very good. And you'll be starting practice tomorrow, then. All right, soldier?"

"All right, sir. What time?"

"We usually start at 10:30."

"10:30?!" That was insane; he had had to get up at six o' clock to make sure he got to practice on time before. Why was it that things were more lax now, when he was in the highest class?

A short bark of laughter came from the other line. "Most people react like that. Don't worry, we go until six."

Zack blinked. Well, that explained it. Until now practice had ended at three. He nodded, even though he was talking to someone on the phone. "All right, I'll be there," he announced.

"See you then." The click that let him know the other had hung up sounded in his ear and he dropped the phone back into the slot designated for it and then slipped off of the bed, grabbed the map from his other pants pocket and headed out the door, in full uniform. Not that that was too unusual, but people didn't always walk around with their pauldrons attached unless they were doing some serious training. So he did get a few weird stares as he made his way through the maze of halls to the lab, but he didn't care; he was proud of his class upgrade, dammit, and he was going to let everyone know it.

Luckily he had no trouble finding the lab that was located at this part of the large building; he knew there were others scattered around, and a large one in the higher, executive levels. He wondered if he'd ever get to go up there and see what it was like, now that he was First Class…

Opening the door and stepping in a bit cautiously, he took a few glances around, squinting through the darkness since the room was surprisingly dim, only the soft glow of the several computers in the place shedding any light. There were shelves of records and refrigerators that held the injections, prepared beforehand so anyone that walked in could get their dosage with hardly any time spent. There was just one nurse seated in a chair, typing at one of the computers; she seemed to be updating some of the records, and it also seemed like she hadn't heard him enter.

Nibbling on his bottom lip, he took a few steps towards her and then cleared his throat. The chair squeaked as she jumped in her seat and then swiveled around and stared at him through bespectacled eyes. She examined him for a few seconds before standing up, brushing back some strands of brown, mousy hair that had fallen free of the tight bun most of it was captured in and then maneuvering around the chair and heading for one of the refrigerators. She wrenched open the door and started sifting through it, talking to him as she searched. "I assume you're the new First Classer," she said. "Pratchett called me ahead of time and said you were coming."

"Yeah…" She had been told about him beforehand? His instructor was taking his time to make calls just because of him? Geez, it almost made him feel special, that people made such a fuss over him. It seemed she had found what she had been looking for because she straightened and shut the door. She noticed the surprised look on his face, for she immediately delved into an explanation. "Oh, everyone's making a big deal because you're the youngest ever to get into First Class." Seemed he would be getting into the record books, then. "They have high hopes for you, kid."

He smiled rather arrogantly at this. "Well, I can see why. I mean, I am good." Modest? Of course.

She sighed and shook her head in disbelief. "Don't let your head get too big, kid. Even if you're good, there's one that's better." She was now cleaning the syringes, probably for good measure, and once that was done she slapped on a pair of plastic gloves and then beckoned him over to the counter. "C'mere… don't be scared, they're just shots…"

"I know, I've had them before," he stated, walking over and standing attentively next to her as she grabbed the first needle.

"He requested you have three injections today."

He quickly took a step back, staring at her like she was insane. "Three?!"

She smiled, almost morbidly. "Yes. He wasn't lying when he said things would get a lot more intense from now on. Now suck it up like a big boy and let me get it over with."

"Sorry," he grumbled, stepping forward and closing his eyes. He didn't particularly like needles. "I've only had two Mako injections ever before, and there was a long period between each one, so… this seems like a lot at once." He felt the first sharp pinprick and his body tensed.

"Aw, now that wasn't that bad, was it?" she cooed, rubbing over the puncture wound with alcohol and wiping up the tiny bits of blood the needle had drawn. "And yes, you'll be getting them a lot more now; you'll probably have to come every two weeks or so to get another."

His brow furrowed. "That seems sort of often."

"Look at it this way. It's better than all at once. They want to sort of make it so your body builds an immunity to it, since they aren't entirely sure what would… happen if it was administered all at once." Wow, that wasn't foreboding at all. Another pinprick, this time a little lower on his arm. His poor arm was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

"Who are 'they'?" he questioned, almost bitterly. Zack wasn't a happy camper when he had to be given these heavy duty shots like he was some sort of animal. He knew that it was good in the end, that it would enhance his prowess in battle and turn him into the sort of killing machine that Shin-Ra was looking for, but that didn't mean he had to like having needles poked into his skin like this; definitely not three at once.

"The higher professors of the Shin-Ra Science Department; Professor Hojo, especially," she answered curtly, then administering the final shot, wiping it off as she had the other two, and then walking off to get some bandages to wrap around his arm for good measure, in case one of them wouldn't stop bleeding. "And there you are, Zack," she said once she had finished wrapping. "You're free for the rest of the day, but Mr. Pratchett wanted me to remind you about practice tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he grumbled, swatting her away with the hand that belonged to the arm that wasn't sore, his left one. "Thanks, I guess." Blinking at her, she just shrugged and returned to the computer, having finished her job. Zack took that as his cue to leave, exiting the darkened room and making his way back to his brand new dorm, intending to take a nap now that all of these details had been thrown out of the way. Now, officially, he was a First Class SOLDIER.

Smiling softly at this fact, he let his hand tug at the chain that held his dog tags, fishing them out from where they had been concealed under his shirt so he could run his fingers over the cold metal smoothly, feeling the letters etched into them, spelling his name. It was such a good feeling, to know that he had come this far in such a short period of time, that his hard work and ambition had really paid off. He had heard the heartbreaking tales of others that had come here looking to succeed and had failed, forced to return home with their tails in between their legs. He had vowed then and there that he would not let that happen to him, that he would make it, no matter what the cost.

And he had put his hours in, worked hard; no one could claim he hadn't done so. It was true that a lot of the stuff came much easier to him that it had to others, and he knew he had gained a few silent enemies because of that, but why did he need to feel ashamed of such a thing? So he had potential, was born with a natural knack for fighting, had the right kind of instincts… why need he feel bad about it? He didn't need to, that was the thing. He had no reason to feel as if he had done something wrong, and he wasn't going to, either. They could say what they want, send him nasty glares, but he wouldn't let it get to him. Because he knew that he had made it here all by himself, with no outside help, like some of the others had (or connections on the inside, that worked too), and that was enough to let him know that he deserved to have the position he possessed now.

Thinking over these things in too much detail, he soon discovered that he didn't know where he was. He also discovered that the room was spinning, his vision had turned blurry, his head felt about ready to split in two, and he was steadily getting rather nauseous. This all hit him at once, and he did his best to get near the wall, falling against it as he winced against the fierce pain. "Urgh…" he gurgled, everything now rough around the edges, nothing forming anything solid in his vision. What was going on? What was happening all of a sudden? He didn't know; all he knew was that he was in a lot of pain, he felt like he was going to throw up, and he was lost with no one to help him.

He felt his legs giving out, knew that in a few seconds he would be on the floor, was waiting expectantly for the pain when he hit the ground, but… it never came. Instead he felt two arms wrapping around him, holding him up and saving him from crashing and burning. He frankly didn't remember ever closing his eyes, but realized that he was forced to open them in order to see who had come to his rescue.

Silver hair falling softly about firm, stern, hardened features. Eyes a stunning chemical green that somehow still shined with a dull life that Zack hardly understood. Pale, smooth, skin, and mouth set steadily with frustration. The black attire that clothed most of his body, flowing behind his form with a grace Zack only wished he could possess, the sort of power one could control with just their body language. His goofiness had never been able to command any sort of respect from people, and he was forced to prove himself in other ways. This, one, though, had you on your knees with just one look.

As if he had any doubt in his mind as to whom it was, as if he was for one second confused, unsure of who his savior was. Those defining looks could belong to no other, and even though he had never seen the man up close before, he knew exactly how he looked. With his face plastered on campaign ads for joining SOLDIER everywhere, he wouldn't be surprised if pretty much every boy his age knew every detail of Sephiroth's face, from his eyes to that dead line his lips were pressed into; never known to crack a smile, always stoic and expressionless, yet no one dared to question it. He was the perfect model for all out there, the exquisite blueprint for everyone; the personification of impeccability.

He was in too much pain, and too amazed, that Sephiroth was here, helping him, touching him, holding him, (why those last two things were such a big deal, he wasn't even sure of himself), that he couldn't say a thing; and so instead Sephiroth had to speak first. "What's wrong?" It was said without the hint of concern, more of annoyance, than anything. Though for some reason Zack felt as if it wasn't really directed towards him more than at something else; what that 'something else' was, he didn't know.

Well, now it was his turn to say something. Grimacing and wincing one eye closed at the effort, he forced out a few words. "Dunno… alluva sudden… just started… pain… ugh…" He wasn't sure how much sense he was making, and could only hope that Sephiroth got the picture.

It seemed the silver-haired man was beginning to find their position uncomfortable because Zack found himself being straightened so he was leaning against the man instead of being held in mid-air by him. That was easier, anyways, and so there was no reason to protest. "Where did you just come from?" was the next question. Just a bunch of questions today, Zack swore it… what did these people want from him?

Swimming through his thoughts, he fought to remember what had happened earlier, even with the pain pressing into his forehead making it hard to do much of anything but grunt in pain. "…th'… lab… got Mako…"

"I thought so," Sephiroth stated, and Zack noticed that he gave a sort of sigh of disapproval at discovering this. "How many injections did they give you?"

"…th-three…"

Those emerald Mako eyes were closed in frustration, and it was obvious that the General was not happy. He seemed to be emerged in his own thoughts for a few seconds since he kept his eyes closed for quite a while before opening them again and focusing them back on the porcupine. "What's your room number?"

Too much thinking when he could hardly see what was two inches in front of him, but he managed to recall the number the clerk had given him not that long ago, the number imprinted on his door in fake gold lettering… "A213…"

The man seemed relieved. "Okay, it's not far. Come on." With that he started to walk, pretty much dragging Zack along with him.

But this was just too much at once. Pulling him somewhere when Zack didn't even know where they were going, what was going on, and most importantly, why Sephiroth was helping him, was throwing him into hysterics. He resisted against the other's pulls, determined to squeeze out at least one answer before they continued. "Where… going?"

"To your room. You need to sleep. That's the only way you're going to feel better." Short, concise, and harsh, not betraying the smallest sliver of pity for the pain Zack had lancing through him.

And so with that answer, if a bit lacking, he decided to comply, and went about trying to move his legs forward with Sephiroth's strides. However, it wasn't working. He wasn't moving, his legs weren't listening to his demands and he was left hanging from the other's grasp rather lamely, unable to even lift his foot up so he could attempt to take a step forward. "Urgh… can't…"

He vaguely saw Sephiroth rolling his eyes before he felt a strong arm linking around his mid-back, and the next thing he knew, he was being held altar-style in Sephiroth's arms, who was now pacing down the hall like this was the most normal thing in the world. Zack would have squirmed uncontrollably if he had had the strength, maybe even yelled out in shock if it didn't take so much effort to make sound, and instead he was left to just lay there and let the man pace down the corridor with him in his arms. He wondered if anyone was around to witness the strange event, wondered what people would say to him when they saw him next, but soon enough these thoughts faded away, he really didn't care that much, the pain didn't permit him to.

And with the soft bumping up and down with each smooth step, the warmth of the other person that was supposedly 'cold as ice', he found himself drifting off, anything to escape the pain, and he still didn't know what was wrong, why he was in Sephiroth's arms… Sephiroth's… arms…

**

Light. Sun. Sun piercing through his eyelids, wrenching up under them to attack the twin orbs shaded beneath. He had always said that the sun was the devil, that it should be… extinguished or something, for it roused you from the peaceful sleep, that calm state where you were really at ease, from your dreams…

Dreams. So sweet and beautiful and wonderful and it was all so ideal and so much better than everything else here and God, he loved his dreams, where it was all okay, where it all worked out and why, why did he ever have to even wake up?

Dreaming of a soft man, tendrils of silver hair, shining and glimmering; in a wide, open field, the grass greener than green, and a clear sky. Running through the grass, tumbling over and laughing in delight and he knew, knew that it could never be true, how could it be true?

You're such a hopeless romantic when it comes down to it, Zack.

I know that.

Finally he let his eyes flutter open to the light of day, blinking back slightly against the intensity of it filtering through the window. Damn that window. He should have requested a room without one. Frowning slightly, he found he had already forgotten what his dreams had held, now that he had allowed himself to wake up, and he faintly wondered why his heart was beating so fast, and knew that he had been confused about it during his dream, too, because…

Shaking his head to clear it, he removed himself from the warmth of the bed, though the minute he stood up he remembered why he didn't remember ever falling asleep. Basically, he was sore as hell. "Fuck," he grumbled, finding that all of his muscles ached with a dull pain, and although it was not crippling, made for quite a bit of discomfort.

Then he realized he didn't even know what day it was. Glancing over at the clock, he saw it was ten o' clock, AM. Did that mean it was the next day now, that he had slept all through the night, after having fallen asleep while being carried by Sephir—

Sephiroth?!

He put a hand to his head and groaned rather loudly. "Dammit! I made a fool of myself in front of him, and he had to go out of his way to help me, and… UGH." He kicked at the side of his bed, but he didn't realize that it was indeed rather hard, and was then forced to grab at his poor toe in agony. "Fuck fuck fuck!" he yelled as he jumped haphazardly on one leg, clutching desperately at the other.

He eased himself onto the bed again until the pain subsided, and then put his head in both hands and sighed heavily. "God, what happened?"

Wait. It was ten o' clock in the morning. The next day.

"You're free for the rest of the day, but Mr. Pratchett wanted me to remind you about practice tomorrow."

"SHIIIIIIT!" He jumped up quickly and raced into the bathroom, intending to take a shower, brush his teeth, comb his hair, and change in all of twenty minutes.

**

Rushing out of the steam-filled room and rubbing a towel furiously through his hair, he ran over to pull his boots on (ignoring the fact that his foot was still a little sore, since his entire body was sore), when he noticed something left on the counter. A note. He stopped his rapid actions for a moment, letting the leg he was attempting to wrench his boot onto fall to the floor as he stepped forward to grasp the note between two fingers.

Come see me once you've woken up. A101.

Sephiroth

He blinked down at it for a moment or two, unsure what he wanted. He had thought that incident the previous day had been a once in a lifetime incident, that he only got to have any sort of contact with Sephiroth out of pure luck, but it seemed things really were changing now that he was in First Class. Granted, this was probably just pertaining to the aforementioned incident, but it still granted him yet another time when he would be allowed to speak one-on-one with the legacy.

Was he supposed to forget about practice to respond to the note? He wasn't sure, but it did say 'once you've woken up', and… well, Sephiroth's orders rose much higher in Zack's eyes over an instructor's that he hadn't even met yet.

He set the note back down on the counter carefully and then headed for the door. He was pretty sure he would be finding A101 without much of a problem. And he'd place to memory exactly how to get there, too.

Sephiroth's room… I wonder how many people know where it is… He grinned slightly at this, the privilege he was having handed to him on a silver platter. And he generally ignored the fact that he was acting so obsessed over the man. After all, every boy saw Sephiroth as their idol. This was… normal, yes?

Of course it is. It's not like I like him or something. I don't even know him. And I don't swing that way…

And he placed the slight worry out of his mind, more excited by the fact that he'd get to see that soft flowing hair again, those bright, boring eyes.

**

A/N: Yaaaay, I finished! Well, it was sort of inevitable that I wrote this considering I just recently got extremely into the whole Sephiroth/Zack pairing. I had always liked it before, but I started craving it like I crave Coke. And for those of you that don't know me, that's really bad.

Yes, I'm doing my A/N at the bottom of my fics now. I kind of like it better that way because I can make comments on the chapter without spoiling you all because YOU JUST READ IT WOW LOGIC.

This fic is for my dear friend, Jen, for it was just her birthday. 3 Hope you like it so far, hun! Zack's last name, height, and weight all came from her, because it is for her and so she should be allowed to decide such things.

I kind of wanted this chapter to be longer, but I also wanted it to end there. And yes, Zack doesn't know he likes boys yet. Oh boy... I sort of feel like he got all 'omg OBSESS' really fast, but I get the feeling Seph sorta has that impact on people. I mean, he's practically worshipped, so I don't think it's TOO unrealistic for Zack to get like that so quick. Besides, he's hardly even aware of it himself. -_-;

I feel kind of bad for being so mean to Zack already, with all the pain, but these things sort of form in my head without my permission. I apologize, and I feel bad for the poor guy, too. ;_; ::Pets him and gives him a Coke.::

I don't believe I'm writing Sephiroth too well yet, but we'll see how it goes. Hopefully I'll get better as this fic goes on, since… yeah, I haven't really written him that much until now. Good practice, I say. Woot.

I cranked this out surprisingly fast. Three days or something. Hope for the same swiftness for later chapters. And feel FREE to yell at me and kick me if I'm being lazy. :D And this has dragged out for far too long. ;