Thunder, a final fantasy vii fanfic

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AN: This fic is a third-person narrative from Zack's POV, set during the Crisis Core period, just after Zack returns from Banora village, and Angeal has become a renegade. Obviously, events that occur herein are not necessarily true to the game's storyline.

The story is heavily inspired by the song "Thunder (acoustic)" by Boys Like Girls. I suggest you download and listen, unless you absolutely cannot stand anything bordering on emo, in which case I strongly urge you to listen to it, just once. :) Song lyrics at the bottom of the page.

Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as are encouraging reviews. Flames will be used to grill homophobe-flavoured steaks*.

*No animals were harmed in the making of this fic.
**Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII and all its components and characters belong to Square Enix - Thunder Acoustic music, lyrics etc. belong to Boys Like Girls - I don't profit from writing this - please refrain from redistributing this without my permission, etc. etc. ad infinitum.

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Zack tipped back his head, draining the frothy remnants of beer from his glass. Then, bringing the glass to his eye, he gazed morosely at the transparent bottom. Motioning to the bartender to supply him another, he slapped 25 gil on the dust-caked counter. I get paid well. I can afford it, he reasoned to himself. Even in his head, his words carried a distinct slur. The bartender shuffled over and eyed him suspiciously, but the gil and the sword resting on Zack's thigh spoke well enough for themselves. With a long-suffering sigh that sent ripples through his enormous moustache, the bartender wiped the grime from a glass with a filthy rag and filled it to overflowing with dark and bitter beer.

It was some hideous hour of the morning, and Zack had been sitting in that Sector 5 shit hole of a bar for longer than he cared to think about, downing glass after glass of beer in an attempt to ease his troubled thoughts. In a way, he was successful - the alcohol had effectively robbed him of most comprehensive thoughts - and in another way, he had failed; for his troubles had shunted themselves onto one neat mental track and were circulating in constant motion, fast enough to make his head spin, too fast to make any sense of at all.

Not adding at all to his overall mood, Zack's pitiful, alcohol-affected attempts to pick up had been disastrous. All the young men from the slums seemed to be either grossly pale, stunted, shrunken, weedy, and dirty; if not a combination of two or more. And if a girl happened to walk in who was androgynous enough for Zack's tastes, and not hideously ugly, she was by default a certified lower-class snob. Those slum-bitches would barely deign to favour a second glance for the SOLDIER 2nd Class. All of them had stared down their nose at him in identical expressions of disdain, and rudely refused his offer of a drink, a knee to perch on, and maybe later, a shared bed in the Shinra headquarters. By 11pm, Zack had sworn off females entirely.

It would not have mattered in any case if any of them had been willing to accompany Zack back to his small, Spartan apartment for a glorious, loveless

(LOVELESS)

fuck. Not-so-deep in his subconscious, he was repulsed by the thought of any intimate, flesh-to-flesh contact with anyone. There was only room enough in his head for one person, and that person was gone, disappeared off to who knew where, shattering Zack's trust in doing so.

Thinking of him brought on a sharp, sweet pain that pierced through Zack's temples. His fist closed more tightly around the beer glass, and he wrenched his head to one side in a nervous tic, as if trying to dislodge the thought. His eyes came to focus on the world outside the bar. Summer had ended overnight. Autumn had quickly claimed the hours, summoning forth sharp bursts of cutting wind, that swept dead leaves in thick clusters down the streets, and ominously rumbling thunderclouds that threatened to burst at the slightest hint of summer trying to return.

At that moment, the first spatter of rain hit the windowpane. In only moments, heavy droplets of water were throwing themselves fiercely from the sky, trying to drown the earth. "Don't look like this is gunna be endin' anytime soon," commented the bartender in genial tones, to no one in particular. His eyes slid sideways to Zack. "If I was smart, I'd be headin' back home right about now."

His words had the desired effect, though doubtlessly not for the reasons he expected. Zack loosed his hold on the beer glass, hefted his sword onto his back, and staggered out into the pre-dawn rain. The bartender immediately heaved a great sigh of relief. He'd been trying to get rid of that one all night. Don't need none of their kind 'round here, startin' no trubble. Cocky bluddy SOLDIERs and their bluddy nancy-boy swords.

The first jets of water on Zack's exposed face roused him slightly from his stupor. He loped drunkenly down the street, into and through the sheets of driving rain, his stagger gradually evolving into a long-striding run. So he ran harder still, shedding the effects of the alcohol like a snake shucking its skin, on and on, searching for the eye of the storm - and for whatever else, he knew not.

Zack found it when his legs were heavy and his lungs burning, in a clearing in the centre of a construction site. Forbidding steel and concrete constructs jutted out from the hollow walls of the building, strange angles

(Angels)

(Angeal)

casting eerie shadows in the fringes of the clearing. Here the rain slowed to a benevolent mist, drops falling in slow spirals to cluster in pools on his hair and clothes. There was something else, too.

White, sodden feathers drifted lazily downwards. A fine, sparse carpet of them coated the ground around Zack's feet in down. As he stared at them, a chill wind blew up out of nowhere, and the feathers erupted into a whirlwind, cocooning Zack's body with soft, smothering wings. When the tempest died, and Zack had lowered a protective arm from his face, he stood facing Angeal.

Time seemed to have stopped, so it was no wonder Zack could not think of a single thing to say. Angeal stood tall, fixing his eyes, glowing with a fierce pride, on Zack's face; waiting patiently for some reaction.

Zack fell heavily to his knees, catching his weight on his hands - skinning his palms. But his elbows quivered violently and seconds later he fell again, landing on his side, dazed and catatonic. In his limited line of sight, two boots slid into view. Zack opened his mouth to speak.

"Angeal?" his voice broke.

Angeal knelt by his side and placed one hand on Zack's shoulder, and although concerned, his mouth tilted upwards at the sides in the ghost of a smile. His eyes, though, communicated more: sorrow, regret - maybe hope.

"Zack," Angeal responded, his voice a comforting rumble. He gently helped Zack into a sitting position, and there the boy stayed with his head in his hands, telling himself he was not crying.

"Angeal. Why?" Zack's voice broke again and he swallowed convulsively, several times, his Adam's apple bobbing crazily. When he received no response, he repeated his question mechanically, over and over, his voice rising in accusation by a little more each time. Thunder boomed theatrically overhead.

"I have no answer to that, Zack." Angeal's answer, when it finally came, was rife with sorrow.

Zack raised his head to look his mentor in the eye. "But I trusted you," he wept, then, his voice changing to a bellow: "I trusted you!"

"I know," Angeal said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen. Any of this. But I can only follow the path I have been given."

Zack let a strangled laugh and spread his hands jerkily in a vague, sweeping gesture.

"What more can I say?"

Angeal's gaze slid away. "You will be fine, I have no doubt. Just give yourself time. There will be other mentors."

"But I love you," Zack said brokenly. "I don't want to love anyone else."

He reached out desperately and kissed Angeal. There was slight pressure only, a small indication of the older man returning the kiss. Gradually the weight fell away, and Zack was left alone, kneeling on a bed of down, with a single white feather clutched in one fist.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

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Today is a winding road; it's taking me to places that I didn't want to go
Today in the blink of an eye, I'm moving on to something
And I do not know why I tried
I tried to read between the lines, I tried to look in your eyes
I want a simple explanation for what I'm feeling inside
I've gotta find a way out
Maybe there's a way out

Today is a winding road
It's taking me to places that I didn't want to go
Today I'm on my own
I can't move a muscle and I can't pick up the phone
I don't know
And now I'm itching for the tall grass and longing for the breeze
I need to step outside, just to see if I can breathe
I've gotta find a way out
Maybe there's a way out

Oh, I'm walking on a tightrope; I'm wrapped up in vines
I think we'll make it out, but you've just gotta give me time
Strike me down with lightning; let me feel you in my veins
I wanna let you know how much I feel your pain

Today is a winding road; it's taking me to places that I didn't want to go.

Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer
Do you know you're unlike any other?
You'll always be my thunder and I said -
Your eyes are the brightest of all the colours
I don't wanna ever love another, you'll always be my thunder and I said -
Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer
Do you know you're unlike any other?
You'll always be my thunder so bring on the rain, oh bring on the pain
And listen to the thunder.

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