AN: I do apologise for not posting for so long. I know the feeling when a writer you watch stops posting for prolonged periods of time.
I do hope this makes up for it, even if a little. It's a sort of AU Crisis Core idea that I thought of.
I'm working on a happy fic on Reno and Rude too, so stay tuned if you like the two of them as much as I do!
Zack scratched his nose and shuffled his boots on the sooty metal quietly, which effortlessly made no noise. The boots were standard SOLDIER issue, just soft leather and metal buckle straps – typically heavy and stiff – but to Zack, they had grown to be like part of his legs.
That's what you get when you're so seasoned and experienced, she had guessed once.
He peered down from where he sat, atop the only stable platform left from an abandoned mako reactor in Sector 7. It was about twenty feet higher than the nearby row of shophouses, whose neon lights blinded the passersby from above and granted anyone situated on the reactor platform invisibility.
Such pretty lights, she had told Zack once. I wonder if they run on electricity, or on the Lifestream.
Besides granting invisibility, that platform also gave a perfect view of the Sector 7 playground. It wasn't much, just a few cheap plastic structures mounted into the lifeless sand, but it was enough to satisfy the children who lived below the plate. How easily-satisfied the children who lived under the plate were in their simple lives constantly amazed Zack.
Look at those smiles, Zack. Aren't they adorable?
This was part of Zack's weekly routine. Every Friday night after his physical training with the other SOLDIERs where he was free, Zack would shower at ShinRa's top-notch locker rooms, grab some takeaway dinner on his way to Sector 7, and perch on the same metal structure he was on now, watching the playground's activities, eating fresh takeout, and feeling the wind in his hair.
And every Friday, he'd watch as she made her way to the playground with her little run-down flower wagon, and stay there for the three hours that she did. Sometimes a kid would come along and curiously talk to her, or not-very-subtly hide behind the pink hippo fortress in the playground and watch as she trimmed the flowers. Sometimes, a customer would walk past and take to the pretty girl with her flower wagon, and stop for a short chat and to buy a few stalks.
And sometimes, a random man would come along and buy her flowers, talking to her a little longer than was necessary. Sometimes, a few subtle friendly touches to her shoulder or hand would be dealt. Sometimes, the man would lean in and say a few words, while she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, and Zack would watch every second of it.
It looked like she was still as naïve as ever.
Of course, being so naïve did have everything to do with it. She just didn't understand the vigor of SOLDIER – her lifestyle in her church had always been relaxed and serene. She never understood night shifts, for how would you ever catch up with your sleep? And why were SOLDIERs always called back on such short notice? That's rude, won't you stay?
But Zack loved SOLDIER. Granted, he was a little disillusioned lately, especially after having taken those attacks from Angeal in the reactor, but he wasn't ready to give it up yet. He wasn't even anywhere near giving SOLDIER up. Not at least until he found Angeal, convinced Genesis to stop his madness, and managed to attain his (unattainable, Lazard had said) dream of becoming a -
I want to spend more time with you.
Zack made a face at the memory, quickly shaking it off and taking a deep breath. His chest didn't feel very much less constricted after that. It was always in the way, wasn't it? It was either her or everything else he did.
She never understood how strongly he wanted his dreams.
And he never understood how or when to make choices he wouldn't regret.
Zack put his cold takeout next to him, on the platform. He wasn't hungry anymore. The wind was still blowing, but Zack hardly felt it on his skin. He watched attentively, just as she put a freshly-cut stalk of flowers back on the wagon and looked around the playground.
As if she expected to see someone familiar.
As if she expected to remember the times that were shared.
As if she expected things to go back to normal.
Zack screwed his eyes shut and took off his SOLDIER gloves, before pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He rubbed and then opened his eyes, only to see her tending to the flowers again, as if her previous gesture had only been a figment of Zack's imagination.
Their entire relationship sometimes felt like just a figment of Zack's imagination.
It was all so abrupt. One day, after finishing business at yet another hasty call-back, Zack had returned to her church at close to midnight, bruised, sweaty, exhausted, cold and ravenous, all to bid her goodnight. He was greeted with a hunched figure, toffee brown braid still trailing down her back, strands of hair shimmering silver in the moonlight.
She still smiled and took his hand warmly as she led him to the seats. She still asked how he was, and whether there were any injuries serious enough that she should take a look at. But the gaze with which she looked at him had changed. It was oddly lifeless, missing the spark that Zack had grown to love when they first met. She couldn't meet Zack's gaze for more than a few seconds, before shifting it to his hand in her lap and lightly heaving a sigh. She was tired.
She was tired of him.
Tired of having to put up with him.
Tired of all the times she told him to stay, told him your worth isn't measured by SOLDIER, told him I'd like to spend more time with you.
And he was tired of her. That day, Zack made his choice. He pried her hands off his gently, murmuring soft words and watching her eyes go wide. He explained that I don't want to do this anymore, and that you deserve someone who can spend time with you, and that maybe it was a bad idea from the start. He then trooped out of the church, went back to his apartment, and lay on his bed for a good part of the night, handle of the buster sword lying limply in his hand as he stared at his ceiling unseeingly.
The cold breeze still caressed his face gently from the height of the platform, sweeping through his hair and howling in his ears. But Zack tossed the rest of his takeout off the platform and leapt down to the road, mounting the motorcycle he'd borrowed from ShinRa. It was an exception they'd made, Lazard had told him, for volunteering to situate himself in Edge and do underground work on tracking Genesis.
He didn't look back as he drove off.
Tonight, he was leaving Midgar for good.