Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII -Crisis Core- or any of the characters, places or events depicted within; all credit goes towards Square Enix and its affiliates for their masterful work.
Authors Notes: Firmly a oneshot, quickly written in hopes of getting over this insufferable case of writer's blocks that's plaguing me. Thought it up while listening to Levitate by Opshop, oddly enough. May extend it into a series of oneshots in the future. Side note: Doesn't actually contain Angeal, only mentions him.
Listening: Love the Way You Lie - Eminem feat. Rihanna
Erase
by
Ineffable Sunset
o~0~o
It had been almost an hour, and they had yet to see hide nor hair of their SOLDIER companion.
Of the four sent on the mission, two infantryman, a Turk and a SOLDIER, only two had made it to out of the bathhouse and to the rendezvous point.
Tseng looked out into the endless tundra of white, squinting through the near-blizzard. As strange as it felt, a blast of relief hit him. A solitary figure in black limped towards them, the sounds of their approached lost in the wind whipping by the new helicopter. Zack had returned to them alone. At Tseng's side, the blonde-haired infantryman shifted, no doubt wanting to greet his new friend, but they both understood the need for silence.
Fully visible at last, Zack drew to a halt in front of his comrades. His face was painted with melancholy and sorrow.
Tseng was the first to spot the crimson on his clothes and the sword on his back. The Buster Sword; the only possession left of a once great man. Looking upon the impressive weapon, Tseng had no doubt of what had transpired.
Judging by the horrified look on Strife's face, so did he.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Zack's voice was bitter, calloused, everything Zack himself wasn't. "Let's go."
Tseng shared a look with the one infantryman left, the other having fallen prey to the insatiable hunger of one the feral creatures that prowled Modeoheim's mountainous range. Tseng knew next to nothing of comforting others, and Cloud barely knew Zack—neither one of them were the right people to try and quell Zack's grief, he would leave that to Aerith; she always did have a certain way about her, perhaps she could help him.
It was Cloud's voice that broke the silence.
"Are…are you okay, Zack?"
The SOLDIER looked away from the both, his eyes fixed on the slowly whirling rotors as they came to life. He could spot Reno sitting in the pilot's seat, his mouth moving, conversing enthusiastically with Rude, who was occupying his usual place in the co-pilot's seat.
His blue eyes were bright with restrained tears. "Fine," he swallowed thickly.
Tseng hated to do it to the young man, whose sunny disposition he had become inexplicably fond of. The next question had to be asked, and it would be, many times in the future. Zack would just have to grin and bear it, as he always had.
"And of Angeal…?"
There was another moment of silence, much longer than the last.
Zack had his eyes fixed still on the rotors and Tseng had his eyes on Zack. The infantryman, Strife, had quietly slipped back into the Blackhawk when neither of them where paying much attention, and they were alone in the snow, wind and snowflakes assaulting their faces in turn.
His right hand snaking up to rest on the hilt of the Buster Sword, Zack closed his eyes and relished in the invisible sense of comfort that overtook him. At his side, his left arm hung limp, fingers twitching in the confines of his gloves.
Blood slowly splattered against the snow, red on white.
"It's done."
SOLDIER First Class, original owner of the Buster Sword, fugitive, a third of ShinRa's infamous "Black Trinity", and unexpected result of Hollander's Project G. He had done what Angeal wanted, what ShinRa demanded of him. Angeal Hewley was dead—slaughtered, at the hands of his very own student, Zack Fair.
He would live with the guilt of his actions for the rest of his life.
Mission complete.