Zack felt waves of shock and sorrow crash over him repeatedly as he stared down at the body lying below him. The blood pooling around it stained soft silver hair. Fair skin was even paler than usual. Thin lips had a blue tinge to them as they parted slightly, shallow breaths barely passed through them.
The former SOLDIER's hand shook as he reached down to grasp a cold slender hand. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out when everything had changed…when it had all gone so wrong.
In the past, if he and Sephiroth drew their swords in the same vicinity, it was because they were going to fight side by side. At present, it usually meant they were going to fight each other.
Once, if Zack felt like the word had been pulled out from under him, he could go to Sephiroth for guidance. Now, it was usually Sephiroth that had pulled it all away to begin with.
They used to work together to build a better word. Nowadays they worked against each other, and tore that world apart in the process.
Some time ago, they had gone from the best of friends, to the worst of enemies, and now Zack knew that they had passed their chance to return to what they once were.
They used to try to protect one another and the others they loved. Nowadays, Zack struggled to protect everything he loved from the other man.
Once, they used to cover for Cloud and then Sephiroth would tease him good naturedly about how fortunate he should feel that they were friends. Now, Zack often had to cover Cloud as Sephiroth attacked him while throwing taunts that were anything but good in nature.
In the past, if Zack went looking for Sephiroth, it was to see his best friend. At present, he was looking to destroy the shell that remained of his best friend.
"Aerith, stay with Riku." The violet-eyed man released the boy's hand. "I'm going to make sure this is over." He heard her call 'be careful' as he turned and walked away, following the trail of blood and feathers further into the mansion.
Zack felt a strange combination of sorrow and relief when he found Sephiroth. His long hair matted with blood, fair skin white as marble and pale lips frozen in a soft smile that Zack had not seen in over fifteen years. As he grasped a cold and lifeless hand, he was oddly pleased that even after all that had past, he still mourned him as a friend.