Home

Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII.

Zack sighed, groaning a little as he heaved another large piece of the mako reactor's outer shell off of the ruined catwalk. He clung to the remaining wall, eyes closing as the rusty stairway rattled and creaked. Shit…that would have been a bad one. Then Mom and Dad would really know I was here. He smiled wryly; the cussing alone would have brought the whole village running. And that would have ruined his plans.

Every time he'd gotten leave during the last four years, he'd discreetly traveled back to Gongaga, hiding his familiar spiky hair under a bandana, smearing his face with touches of camoflage paint, and donning an old Shin-Ra work uniform that he'd borrowed from a notoriously grouchy young pilot from the Avionics sector. Dressed like a worker, acting like a worker, he was ignored, though occassionally some of the farmfolk would leave baskets for him in way of thanks. He freed up precious steel and aluminum that they could sell in the off-seasons, and painstakingly gathered copper and precious metals, as well as shards of materia for them to barter in the summer.

Usually, he dug through the refuse that had gathered at the bottom ring of the reactor; however, he actually had a commission from one of the metalworkers from farther in Gongaga Village for quality steel, so he'd taken to the lofty heights in hopes that he could tear off a few good pieces. As the shaky catwalk steadied, he breathed a soft sigh and not reluctantly, started picking his careful way down. He could survive a fall from this height, but he really didn't feel like dealing with the bone bruises. He had one more day to make sure that his people were in good stead before he went back to serving the very fools who'd scarred this land, and killed so many…

It was nearly an hour later that he finally set food on the ground, and much of his uneasiness disappeared. He really had no head for heights; he blamed it on the mako and its side effects. Certainly, he'd been happy to scramble up and down those very stairs and ladders to the sky when he was a child…He sighed, brushing away the memories with a casual swipe of his gloved hand, and if the black leather was a little damper than it should have been, then one might safely assume that it was simply his eyes stinging from so much irritating dust and metal motes.

"Oh, lad, I wasn't sure you'd be done yet!" Zack smiled, hiding his blue eyes behind a shielding hand; he didn't want anyone to know he was anything more than an extraordinarily strong worker. He nodded to the man; crippled by the explosion ages ago, he wheeled himself around in a small, ponycart. Just enough room in the back to haul away his valuable steel, though Zack would have to really arrange things to get a few of the pieces to fit.

"Nah, 's jus' m' job, sirr. Lemme g' them in yer cart." He usually took on a thick, sturdy swamplands accent; that, and hiding his eyes had saved him more than a few times over the last few years.

"You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Aye." Short and sweet; can't screw that up.

"…We'll miss you, lad." Zack packed the last of the metal in, and gave the man a wave and a tired smile; it would be hard to sleep tonight, like it always was. He never minded sleeping outside, even in the winter; he'd camped in the woods around here since he was little more than a toddler. It was leaving that made everything fall apart inside him…He trudged back to his campsite, smiling at the baskets left just outside his tent, tucked safely into the tree that hung over the clearing. As the sun finished setting, he stoked up the fire and had a warm, delicious dinner. He pulled his roll half out of the tent so that he could look at the stars; it was still warm out, at least warm enough to doze. The fire died down, and he fell asleep, dreaming of a day when he could come back home, not as Lars the workman, but as Zack, the hero, the SOLDIER…

—-

"We can't wake him, Bonny."

"But, he's…"

"You know what he's been doing, love; he wants to make amends, but he's ashamed that who he works for did this…"

"He's my boy…I don't care that he works for those bastards. I want him home…"

"He's mine too. We'll see him again, my love. Now, let's get home; he'll be up soon enough…"

—-

The next morning, Zack woke with the oddest feeling. He'd dreamt of his parents, standing over him and talking softly…he touched his heart, feeling the pain and sorrow. Damn…but he had no choice. He packed up, and left the baskets in their usual places; filled with books that he'd brought, clothes for youngsters, tools and cutlery, and a whole big one full of ribbons and beads for the young ladies. He slipped away with the dawn light, wishing suddenly that the convoy to Nibelheim wasn't so close. He wouldn't be able to see these hills again for a long time, so despite his joy at seeing his friends again, he slowed to a walk, filling his eyes and ears and lungs with all the life around him. Sephiroth wouldn't leave without him…they'd been through too much already.

This is just a little fic I threw up on tumblr, then thought about posting here.