In Sleep
Part Three: Urge
Rating: R

Sephiroth came awake all at once, his nerves crawling with hunger and jade fire. He could barely breathe through the tension. His fingers twisted in the sheets, and he closed his eyes, struggling to stay still, to keep control. He should have drained the levels today, but he'd forgotten. Sephiroth shivered, stifling a snarl as he shook his head.

"General Sephiroth." A professional, slightly gravelly voice. A pleasant voice. Deceptively so.

Sephiroth turned to face the man, anger lining his eyes with steel. "Dr. Hojo."

"You missed our appointment yesterday."

Sephiroth inclined his head. "I was busy."

Sephiroth bit down on his lip, not even noticing the blood that oozed from the gash as his back arched, electricity thrumming through his veins. He could feel the turmoil rising in his mind, his own instincts conflicting with the urgings of the foreign substance that clouded his blood and mutated his senses. He wanted to take, to conquer, to destroy. No. I refuse.

"You can't possibly refuse me a few moments of your time, General. I only need you to answer a couple of questions."

Sephiroth glared, suppressing the urge to slam the man into the nearest brick wall. "Then ask."

"Have you been experiencing any headaches lately? Or dizzy spells?"

The room was spinning. Sephiroth groaned, his face tingling with numbness. He could feel his head throbbing already, a dull ache in the background of his thoughts, pushing him relentlessly toward some unknown end. What would happen if he gave in to that rhythmic beat?

"Any…unusual urges? Volatile temperament?"

"No," Sephiroth whispered. I am not a monster.

"Perhaps you could come back with me now, if you have some free time. I have something that might help ease your…distress."

"Nooo!" Sephiroth screamed, his legs thrashing anxiously as his body fought against itself, struggling at once to move and to stay still.

Dark weight slammed into him, pinning his arms to his sides and pressing down roughly on his thighs. Sephiroth snapped his teeth, his eyes rolling back, cold sweat beading against his skin.

"Are you sure you want to turn down my help, General? I know what haunts you in the night."

Sephiroth shook his head, bucking upward savagely, snapping his attacker's grip and spinning to pin the man beneath him, anger surging in his blood, driving him to strike, to destroy. "I don't need your help," he snarled.

A hoarse, nervous laugh. "That's not what you've been telling me for the last two weeks."

Sephiroth's blood ran cold. He shuddered. Blinked. Stared down into a pair of serious violet eyes. "Zack?"

"It's me, Seph. Just me."

Sephiroth's breaths came harsh and fast. His eyes gleamed. He scrambled backwards on the bed and clenched his fists. Closing his eyes, he called in a long, wickedly sharp knife. He held it out to Zack, who now crouched on the mattress, ready for almost anything. Almost.

"Seph?" Zack's voice was young, uncertain.

"Do it."

"Do what?"

"Anything. Cut me, hit me. Break my legs. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it needs to be severe, Soldier."

"But…Seph…"

Sephiroth shook his head viciously, the anger rising within him again. "Just do it, Soldier. This is an order."

Zack's face was grim as he took the knife. He launched himself at Sephiroth, knocking the General to the ground and holding him there with the weight of his body, the knife pressed to Sephiroth's throat. He threw a hard left, wincing at the crackle of cartilage as his fist connected with Sephiroth's nose. The General reacted just as he had before, shoving upward and attempting to turn them, to pin Zack beneath him.

Not this time. Zack allowed Sephiroth to push him upward just enough to get a leg between the General's thighs. Then he bore down again, slamming his knee into the General's groin. Guilt and anguish washed over him at Sephiroth's slight grunt of pain, but he forced it down, concentrating on the task at hand. There would be time for that later. He hoped.

He winced at a surge of pain in his neck, at the feeling of ripping flesh and dripping blood. Sephiroth had bitten him, had pressed forward against the knife's blade in order to get close enough. Zack cried out as nails tore into his back. He moved, risking his dominant position on a single move. Rising up on his knees, he thrust the knife deep into Sephiroth's stomach, twisting the blade and drawing it across, opening a gash from one sharp hipbone to the other.

Sephiroth screamed, and Zack leaped back then, his gorge rising at the thought of what he'd just done, at the real pain in Sephiroth's voice. Tears streaming down his face, he dropped the blood-stained knife and tore at the bed sheets, stripping them and folding the top sheet roughly, quickly. He knelt at Seph's side, pulling the man practically into his lap and pressing the sheet to the sickening wound in Sephiroth's belly. His stomach turned at the sight of all that blood. Too much. Too much. "Come on, Seph," he pleaded, his voice husky with guilt and desperation. "I'm sorry. I went too far. Please don't die on me."

And Sephiroth…chuckled. He chuckled, low and hoarse, his face buried in the sweat-soaked fabric of Zack's t-shirt. "I'm not going to die, Zackary."

"Y-you're not?"

"No. In fact, in about two hours I'll be perfectly fine."

Zack blinked, pressing the now scarlet sheet harder against Sephiroth's stomach. "Oh. But why…why…"

"You see now why I needed you? Who else would have been able to do what needed to be done? Healing drains the mako in our systems, Zack. It's what allows us to self-regenerate, and the worse the wound is, the more mako is needed to patch it up. That's why…" He trailed off in an almost silent whimper at a particularly sharp stab of agony.

Zack pulled Sephiroth more tightly, more securely, into his arms, leaning down to press an unthinking kiss to the top of the older man's head. "This is what you've been doing? Every day, by yourself…this…"

Sephiroth nodded and allowed his head to fall back some, allowed himself to look up into Zack's worried eyes. "It's the only way I know."

Zack shook his head in vicious denial. "There has to be another way. There has to be. I won't let you go through this anymore!"

"It's all right, Zack. I can handle a little bit of pain."

"A little bit of pain! Seph…you're guts are practically on the floor!"

Sephiroth reached up slowly, allowing his hand to trail along Zack's cheek in a gentle caress, leaving a smear of red in the wake of his fingers. His levels were dropping; he could feel the anger falling, settling into a more normal rhythm in his mind. A gentler throbbing. "You're…concerned for me."

"Of course I'm concerned, Seph! I…you're my commanding officer. My best friend."

Sephiroth smiled. "I have a best friend?"

"I…well…" Zack cleared his throat. "I hope so."

"I've never had a friend before."

This time it was Zack who smiled, a small, pained smile. "You have one now." He released his grip on the makeshift bandage—the flow of blood had already begun to slow—and drew his hand gently down Sephiroth's arm, stroking lightly, offering comfort because he could offer nothing else. "Seph…will you let me help you find a way to fix this?"

Sephiroth lay in silence for a long time, considering Zack's question. Zack's offer. It was dangerous. He didn't know what Hojo wanted, why he was doing this. He didn't know how many people were involved. President Shinra certainly, but how many more? And surely it wouldn't be long before they caught on, before they realized what he was doing and decided to take measures into their own hands, to become much more active in this…experimentation. Whatever it was. And Zack was young, still innocent in a lot of ways. He didn't deserve to be caught up in this. Sephiroth would never be able to forgive himself if Zack were to suffer for Sephiroth's sins, so to speak. He didn't want Zack to be involved. But wasn't the boy already involved in this? Hadn't Sephiroth pulled him in the very day he took him into his bed? Sephiroth sighed. "It will be dangerous."

"I know. But…I don't want you hurt anymore. And besides," he hesitated. "I'm the only one who even has a chance of standing beside you…aren't I?"

Slowly, Sephiroth nodded. "You're the strongest, Zack. The best."

"After you."

Sephiroth didn't answer.

Zack sighed, his fingers trailing over Sephiroth's shoulder and up the curve of his neck. He could feel his own wounds aching and stinging, but he ignored them. They were minor. Easily healed. He pushed Sephiroth's hair—silver stained red—behind one pale ear and cleared his throat. "I want to help."

"Then help, Zackary. I'm obviously not going to find the answer on my own."

"We'll find it together." Zack leaned down, unable to stop himself. He pressed a soft kiss to Sephiroth's parted lips, tasting a metallic hint of blood on his tongue. Licking his lips, he leaned back, panic fluttering in his stomach. "Um…"

But Sephiroth only drew in a slow breath. "So that's how it is, is it?"

Zack bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Seph."

"Yes, Seph."

Silence stretched between them. Finally, Sephiroth shifted slightly. "Zackary…you're an idiot."

Zack blinked. "I get that a lot. But what'd I do this time?"

"If I'd known what it was you wanted, I'd've kissed you the first night I brought you here."