Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: Greetings, readers. This is a story which has been in the works for a long time but which I never had the resolve to submit. Finally I decided I spent too much time on it not to. Those of you who read my story "Alive" will probably have got the jist: I am rather fond of Angeal/Zack. If you do not like this pairing, I'm sure the 'back' button on your browser would be happy to assist you.

This is a series of events depicting how their relationship develops over time - from the start of Zack's SOLDIER life right through to his death. The perspective will interchange between the two of them throughout the story; sometimes the chapters. There's nothing very explicit in this story but I rated it T just to be safe. :-)

Apologies in advance for small canon errors or whatever. Not bothered myself, but hey. Enjoy.

Motion

No spectator of the scene would have been able to identify the two blurred figures as they darted across, around and even at each other; arms frantically swinging blades that collided with resonant crashes. The movements were swift – yet while one figure's were fluid and adept, the other's were impulsive and reckless. The two combined, however, made something of a perfect and lethal dance.

Words were snapped out like the crack of a whip from one; striking into the other an obvious incentive. The leaner figure swung back at the more powerful, heeding his words and hitting with yet more force.

To anyone else, this would have been a battle. It would have been a raging tournament; a fight to the death – but this was far from it.

It was – albeit violent – a mandatory and fairly prolonged training session. And the trainee in question was young Zack Fair; his angular face contorted with concentration as he both followed and ignored his mentor's sharp instructions.

Angeal Hewley kept up his usual mixture of composure and exasperation.

"Left foot!"

Zack's sword was knocked to the floor with a clatter.

"Pick it up; try again."

The young man grimaced and did as told. There was a kind of heated, almost angered determination in his face as he returned, panting, to the centre of the room; readying himself for the onslaught to continue.

It was the most serious Angeal had ever seen him look, and it was decided that this was no bad thing. He needed to be broken in - and for that, he was to be pushed to the limit.

"Shift. Watch your back!"

There was only motion, and everything was happening at once. There were the shouts, the clatters and flashes of bright metal and the glint of narrowed blue eyes; the scraping of leather boots upon the hard floor as their relentless attacks continued – him, with self-choreographed actions and heavy footfalls; the younger man and his sharp face, lithe figure and impulsiveness – the dull gleam of sweat upon taut skin and the movement of aching muscles, burning flesh; sharp exhalation and the surge of adrenaline - it was unremitting, and there was a unity, merging every fierce strike and swift clash as though it were all one single deadly entity…

Angeal had to catch his own breath upon the mere thought of it all. He came out of what was clearly a reality lapse, and focused on the movements of the determined young SOLDIER in front of him.

Though there were men more powerful and skilled than Zack, there was definite promise in what he already had. There may not have been quite enough expertise in his actions to see him through to 1st Class yet, but he swung that blade like a gladiator on an ancient battlefield and Angeal was sure this had enough effect to bring multiple targets down at once… And the boy was enthusiastic, yes, but somewhat simple in his ways of dealing with things. If there was enthusiasm – or any other such sentiment, for that matter - it was often so intense that it overrode everything else. The result, in this case, was clumsiness.

"Weight to the right. Parry!"

Zack's blade swung to crash against Angeal's swift attacking strike.

"That was another attack, not a parry."

The young man stopped this time, catching his breath. He looked both confused and infuriated. "How so?"

Angeal gestured at his sword. "You swung it. See how the blades just deflected off each other? I could easily have caught you through the middle right after you did that."

Zack pursed his lips in annoyance and tensed his grip on the sword. "Show me."

Angeal sighed. "In defence, you need to use the blade as a shield." He demonstrated. In a quick movement, the sword was whipped across and stopped dead in mid-air. Angeal held it steady for a few seconds as if it were against a brick wall. "That gives you the opportunity to push your opponent away." He lowered his sword. "Attack me."

The boy hesitated for a split second, but did not need telling twice. He flung his sword in an arc at Angeal, whose own blade brought his to an instantaneous halt. Zack's azure eyes went wide for a moment, before he was shoved backwards and sent hurtling to the cold floor beneath.

"…Okay!" Zack strained the word as he sat up, wincing. "Okay. I get it. But did ya really have to do that?"

Angeal raised a brow. "You asked me to show you."

For a moment the young man stared at him through narrowed, inquisitive eyes. He then smirked and shook his head in defeat. "Fair enough."

Angeal stood beside Zack and, impulsively, did something he had never done until now: offered a hand to pull him to his feet. Even Zack hesitated; looking at Angeal's hand in the mildest form of surprise – but quickly took the offer. Angeal had to wonder why in the hell he hadn't left Zack to get up by himself (he was perfectly capable no doubt); or why there was a tiny, barely-noticeable jump in his heartbeat when he held the young man's hand; or why he had conspicuously pulled him up just a little too close to his own chest.

What in Gaia's name was wrong with him?

He abruptly turned away.

"…So…" Zack muttered, "You want me to practice that parrying, or what?"

"Yes." Angeal replied, suddenly aware that he couldn't bring himself to look the boy in the eye. "Remember what I told you."

Zack nodded and bit his bottom lip, making a strange face that Angeal assumed was out of concentration. Angeal delivered an attack, and it was stopped dead in its tracks. Zack had, in fact, blocked his hit so forcefully that the older man felt a tremor rebound from the blade and pass right through his arm.

"How was that?" Zack had resumed the puppy-like anticipation that was so typical of him.

By now Angeal had no choice but to look him in the eye. As he did, he raised a brow. "Impressive. So why didn't you do that before?"

They lowered their blades. Zack pouted like a kid, shrugging innocently. "Heat of the moment, I guess."

True, thought Angeal. "Hmm. Try not to let it catch you off-guard next time."

"Okay." Zack seemed to be muttering to himself. "Concentrate, concentrate."

Angeal couldn't help but feel inwardly amused. Quite clearly, the guy was often in an entire little world of his own – but this couldn't be helped. Zack Fair was Zack Fair, and that was fine by Angeal.

"Sephiroth asked to see me round about now," he said, "so I should be going. Feel free to carry on practicing – this room is open for the next hour or so."

But the youth had already begun to un-strap the armour from his shoulders. He looked back at his mentor – his face damp with sweat and his breath yet to steady – and gave a lopsided grin. "Thanks, but I prefer training with you. Besides, I need a shower. Later!"

And he was gone out the door.

For a brief moment Angeal stood on the spot, not knowing entirely what to make of what happened in those last few seconds. There wasn't any time to think on it, though – he had to be elsewhere – but as he left the room himself, he gave into a smile. There was that good old pride again… and something else. But he decided to leave it at that; if only for now.