Fandom: Final Fantasy Dissidia 012 Disclaimer: If you believe I own any bit of the Final Fantasy universe, you're off your rocker. I can't help you. The same applies to you if you believe I'm doing this for monetary profit.

Warning: This contains male/male romance and sensitive, sexual material. If you're allergic to even one of those things, take your leave. Re-acquaint yourself with your BACK button.

He had stared death in the eyes, for far too long.

But his body had been battered beyond belief, giving him an insatiable thirst for death's release. As much as he craved life, and cherished his dream, he couldn't gaze upon that dream any longer. It was just too far away, charted out of reach by Fate's blood-stained hands. Cosmos's kindness and promises of infinite friendship were too distant, too weak to make a difference. Regardless of how much he wanted to see his friends, regardless of how much he wanted to breathe, life had become a thing of the past. He was merely a living, breathing corpse, spiritually wounded beyond repair.

He had died, time and time again. Just when pain hit an all time high, he was forced to restart life as a broken corpse. Whenever he opened his eyes, he always found himself in the arms of the Devil. Whimpering, weeping. Begging for death's release, but unable to grasp it. His captor enjoyed toying with him, forcing him to dance on a string.

He knew every last one of death's shades. He knew all of its sounds. Forced onto cold, lifeless soil, he was forced to acknowledge every requiem alive. His captor's laughter pierced his ears, casting him closer and closer to the brink of insanity. There weren't any clothes about his body, which meant he was constantly exposed to the dangers of poisonous ice.

But his predator enjoyed seeing him in such a state.

He wanted so much to cry out for his friends, but could not find his voice. He could only submit to the devastating touches of his immortal tormentor. The Emperor had him strattled, torn and beaten senseless on more than one occasion, but that particular occasion brought everything back. Firion could not breathe while his captor grunted against his naked frame. He couldn't suppress the memories, relieving everything the Emperor had forced him into. The past violations, the penetration...every last drop of it.

How did he come to be in such a position? He saved the lives of two precious friends, Cloud and Squall. The three heroes had fallen into a devastating trap-which, according to the Emperor, was meant for his beloved Firion in the first place. And once the brave warrior fell into the sovereign's hands, all Hell broke loose. Firion's long-time rival was dead-set on destroying his captive's soul-and he was succeeding.

"In no time at all, my canary, you'll be blossom. Just you wait. You'll learn what it means to be reborn."

He tried so hard to remain strong. He desperately tried to regain every bit of his former, confident, smiling self. But it was impossible to do so. Strength crept out of him with every breath. With every move he made. His will ebbed out of him. "I'm finally able to tear your disgusting heart apart," a dark voice growled, slithering into the canary's eyes.

"Before you know it, every drop of light you carry will...be...gone."

The Emperor's final three words were punctuated with savage, white-hot thrusts. Wicked, icy laughter filled his ears as he melted, body spreading across the planet's surface. His flickering eyes caught glimpses of dead red roses, all of which stained the ground. His dream was being killed again, right before his very eyes.

Shutting his eyes, Firion allowed the last bits of his will to slip away. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye, and one final vision took flight in his mind's eye.

Please keep your promise.

Please...carry out...my...

Lightning wasn't the least bit happy.

"If we wait any longer, he'll be gone. There's no way in Hell Firion can continue to hold his own ground."

The star of the Tantalus troupe folded his arms. Along with many other comrades, Lightning included, he was on Fate's threshold. And like Lightning, Zidane wasn't too pleased with the recent swing of things. Bartz had been the first one taken into mysterious custody, then Firion fell out of existence. Knowing his close friend had vanished was horrible enough. Knowing Firion was being ravaged by a reborn Emperor was even more devastating. "Hopefully this will all be over soon," Zidane said quietly, watching Lightning as she paced around the area. He was not only referring to the trials of two friends, but to the entire nightmare.

"Ol' Spikey Hair swore he'd go after Firion, and help protect his dream. BUT-Cloud has no chance of rescuing ol' Firey without Belial. And Yuna has to show him the ropes of a Summoner's training."

He was usually an ace at uplifting spirits, but not even Zidane could ignore the situation's intensity. He shuddered, thinking of close encounters with death-and the absence of two beloved friends. With Bartz and Firion gone, there were gaping wounds in his heart. Especially since he had no inkling of where Bartz was, and knew the Emperor was psychotically obsessed with his rival.

One thing was certain, though. Both the angel and knight were in horrific danger. The soldiers of Chaos had managed to snatch the most unholy of magic, and all were determined to eliminate all traces of light. Bartz's old friends decided to snatch the angel, and were most likely tormenting him the way Firion was being tormented by the Emperor.

Ugh. NOT the greatest things to think of. How did Chaos's freaks get their hands on such power, anyway? We've all been on our toes, right from the beginning!

The thief's reflections and his friend's pacing were cut short, thanks to an oncoming figure. Zidane and Lightning stiffened, wondering if someone else wished to bring trouble. She gripped her blade, Zidane unsheathed his daggers-

And both of them realized just how much they missed their friends.