With this update, a warning. My sister, to whom I am closer than anyone else in the universe, is preparing to move across the country. It's a brilliant opportunity for her, so it's a good thing, but this is gonna be a very difficult transition for me, not least because it comes suddenly. I will continue to write (like I can stop) and update (like I can stop), but for those of you I chat with outside my stories, I won't be around a whole lot for...I don't know how long. I just want you guys to know that, even if I seem to not be around, I'm fine, and so humbled and thankful for your wonderful reviews.
Sparkly ribbon to reader and friend Erava, who realized that this story's title and chapter titles all, indeed, come from "The Triumph of Time" by Algernon Charles Swinburne. I didn't make it a guessing game this time 'cause I thought it'd be too hard with a poem, so shows ya what I know. :) Nice going, Erava.
I do not own these characters, except the ones that I do. Full speed ahead, and watch out for the meteor-sized ball of angst I'm about to hurl at you...
NOT WRATH OF GODS
Chapter 4 - None Shall Triumph
Hazy was a popular club among the young adults of Midgar, crowded this night as it was on every other. Many of its patrons were regulars, continually drawn back by the noisy thump of techno music, the bare-chested or big-breasted bartenders, the flashing lights. These same things were all getting on Zack's nerves, as though he wasn't already stressed about the mission.
The previous few days had been an exercise in surviving tension. There had been work to be done, preparations made, a need to go over the plan's details again and again and again. Angeal had hovered more than usual, stressing reflex and hand-to-hand combat in their training but off-duty being obviously lenient. Zack was actually beginning to get sick of his favorite pizza and missing the vegetables Angeal usually forced on him. Though he wasn't about to complain that Angeal had begun to occasionally initiate hugs rather than merely allowing them.
Zack shifted on the bar stool and stirred his juice with a straw, trying to look more shy than nervous - although he guessed either would work, and there wasn't much of a difference between them. If anything, it was easy in this situation for the normally-cheerful boy to appear uncomfortable. Eyes were constantly traveling over him, the eyes of both genders and all ages. Oblivious to his own remarkable appeal, Zack blamed the clothes. The outfit Guy Madell had proudly presented to him looked simple enough on hangers - black designer jeans, a popular style of matching sneakers, a black shirt with stylish pale blue stripes and touches of blue at the collar and the hems of the short sleeves.
In actuality, the jeans, though they fit perfectly, hugged and accented the curve of Zack's hips and bottom, and the shirt was tight and a little short, exposing a strip of pale skin above his waist. Zack's usual civilian clothes were baggy enough to disguise his shape, not show it off, and he felt slightly whorish like this. As if the clothes weren't embarrassing enough, after he'd gotten dressed, Genesis had pulled Zack aside and proceeded to assault him with black eyeliner. The teenager didn't care how much this made his eyes "pop"; he was wearing make-up. He'd never live this down, even if Angeal successfully managed to confiscate Genesis's camera-phone.
"Hey there, honey. Are you alone?"
This had become so routine that Zack hardly reacted, internally. He forced a faint smile as the twenty-something young man with tousled green hair and leather attire slid onto the adjacent stool. He seemed friendly, he projected nothing at all negative, and his kind face made Zack think this was someone he'd like to talk to at any other time. Maybe more than talk? What was wrong with him, Zack often wondered moodily. At sixteen, he should be trying to screw everything that moved, not shying away from everyone and masturbating to fantasies of faceless, nameless male bodies.
"Um, kinda," Zack answered, absently fiddling with the silver flower pendant he wore on a chain. He kind of liked it, though at first he'd thought such a thing was too girly. It was beautifully made, and more importantly, it hid his communication device perfectly.
"I'm Garen."
"Zack."
"You don't seem to be having fun. You wanna dance? Or just talk, maybe?"
No need to pretend; Zack was genuinely sorry to have to decline. "No, thanks."
"Okay...well, if you change your mind, I'll be around."
"Thanks." Kunsel's right, I'm hopeless. I'll end up never having sex...
"Hi, Zack. Fuck, you're gettin' cruised like crazy."
The 2nd whipped around in his seat and found a familiar face sitting casually on his other side. The young man was about the same size as him, just a little taller, and he too was wearing tight-fitting club clothes. Even with the absence of his uniform suit and his striking red hair dyed brown, there was no mistaking those green eyes, or the way they winked at him from above a fruity-looking drink.
"Hey," Zack greeted him, careful not to use Reno's name, then continued in a whisper. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping at least a little distance?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Just wanted to get a close-up look at ya. What do you say we forget our plans and go back to my place?"
Zack rolled his eyes and laughed dryly. "I think a certain highly-ranked someone might object to that," he said, careful not to use Vice President Shinra's name either.
"We'll make it a threesome. Spook his old man even more, whaddya say?"
"See you later, man."
"You sure? You know, once you go red - "
"Better off dead?"
"Bitchy much, baby?" Reno hopped up and made to leave, only pausing to squeeze Zack's shoulder and lean down to whisper to him. "Be careful. Remember, we're all with you."
With that, the young Turk disappeared into the dance-floor crowd. Zack shook his head with a faint smile, and looked at his distorted reflection in the polished surface of the bar. Reno was only a little older, incredibly cute (though foul-mouthed and troublesome) and he had expressed interest more than once.
What's wrong with me? Maybe if I just tried it, just once, even as friends -
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
Startled, Zack looked up. The owner of the soft voice was a thirty-something man with a young face and kind brown eyes, dressed casually. He smiled in apology and gestured to the empty stool between them.
"Um, sure, not at all. Go ahead."
"You seemed quite far away," the stranger observed, sitting down. "I'm not disturbing, am I?"
"Not at all. I'm Zack."
"Jonah. Nice to meet you, Zack." The man waved a cheerful blonde bartender over, with breasts that were too large to be natural. "Another Mind Bender for me, and another of whatever my friend is drinking."
"Oh, you don't have to - "
"I'd like to, please." Jonah's eyes, though gentle, seemed to be looking at Zack intently. "She's pretty, don't you think?"
"I guess," the 2nd answered, briefly making a 'yuck' face.
"I understand. I don't like women either, even the best of them are fake in one way or another. Men are purer, less complicated."
"Yeah, exactly!" Zack said, feigning admiration.
"So how old are you, Zack?"
"Sixteen. Can I ask you the same thing?"
"Thirty-five. I'm a resident over at Midgar General."
Zack's stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, but he showed only youthful awe. "You're a doctor? Wow! Do you save people?"
"Sometimes," Jonah laughed. "I'd like to get into private practice as an adolescent pediatrician."
"Then you could be my doctor!" Zack pouted. "You wouldn't give me any shots, would you?"
"I wouldn't do anything that would make you frown." One of Zack's hands lay on the counter; Jonah covered it with his own. "You don't seem to quite belong here. You're very new to this, aren't you?"
Zack didn't fight the color that rose into his cheeks. He squirmed shyly and ducked his head, looking absolutely like a helpless little boy when he was really a SOLDIER pitching his voice so its softness would still be easily picked up by his listening device.
"Uh-huh. I just...get lonely, and I want to meet someone who..."
"Who what?" Jonah prompted tenderly, clasping the teenager's fingers. "It's okay, I won't laugh."
"Who will care about me. I don't wanna...give myself away to someone who'll just leave me after."
"Any guy would have to be a moron to give you up. You are a pure, wise soul, Zack. I can see in your eyes how singular and special you are. On top of that..." Jonah chuckled anxiously. "Would you mind if I tell you you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen?"
Zack smiled with embarrassment and shrank further back into himself, turning his hand to let it be properly held and thinking Could this be him? He seems so nice, but...
"I'm not..."
"I think it's sweet that you're so shy. But it's nothing to be ashamed of. We all want to be loved."
"Are you...y'know...with someone?"
"With someone very special, right now."
Zack looked up and managed a dimmer version of his usual beam. The mission is what matters, show Angeal you can do this, he thought as Jonah's free hand - cool from his glass - cupped the boy's warm cheek. Zack closed his eyes and nuzzled it, thinking of Angeal, of touches that meant safety.
"You're beautiful inside and out, Zack." A thumb slowly ran over his lips, giving Zack the urge to leap back and wipe his mouth. "I see that."
The hand slid down, fingers trailing like feathers over his chin and neck. Zack tilted his head up helpfully, but made a scared noise and opened his eyes wide when the hand made to reach into his shirt. Or so he thought.
"Ssh, ssh," Jonah cooed, edging closer and stroking Zack's face. "I won't do anything you don't want. I just wanted to look at this."
He lifted and palmed the silver pendant around the 2nd's neck, and traced the fine lines of it with his fingertips. Zack sucked in a deep breath and reminded himself that the microphone and tranceiver were within the metal itself and expertly hidden. Jonah smiled, as though the ornament greatly pleased him.
"Do you know what this is? What it means?"
"N-No. My mother gave it to me, but she didn't explain anything."
"Mmm, exquisite craftsmanship, your mother must adore you. This is a Wutaian lily, and in its native land it's a symbol of purity. Brides and boys who are wed to men wear them on their wedding days, and at night, the flowers are ceremonially removed after consummation."
Zack's cheeks went pale pink again. Why hadn't he been told he would be walking around wearing the equivalent of a "VIRGIN!" sign around his neck? They must know, must have chosen this symbol for that reason.
"I guess," he started, then sipped his juice to get the dry feeling out of his throat. "I guess I'll have to stop wearing it...when..."
"I figured you've never done it. That's good, that you've waited."
For those dead boys, for Angeal...
"It's not good," Zack blurted out, heatedly but quietly. "I...I want to, I just...I'm scared."
"Oh, baby." Jonah brought Zack's hand to his lips and pressed (mostly) chaste kisses all over it, then held it between his own hands like a priceless relic. "It's all right. What are you afraid of?"
"That it'll hurt," Zack said, intending the childlike voice but surprised by the few tears that escaped his eyes and gathered on his eyelashes. "I don't want it to hurt."
"I understand. But what if I could make it so you feel nothing but pleasure?"
"You - You can do that?" It's him, oh Gaia...
"Yes, I can. I wouldn't want you to suffer for a second." Jonah lifted his chin a little. "Let me kiss you?"
Zack wanted to excuse himself and run, to at least say no, but ShinRa was counting on him. His lack of response was taken as a yes, and dry lips caught his soft ones, moving and guiding their inexperience with barely audible smacking sounds. He was determined to pull away if any attempt was made to open his mouth, but didn't have to worry about that. Jonah was the one broke the kiss, and he smiled with approval.
"You really are innocent."
"Was it...bad?" Zack had little experience even in kissing, and this time was worse than the others, nauseating instead of nothing.
"Not at all, it was perfect." Jonah took Zack's hand again and entwined their fingers. "Zack, do you believe in fate?"
Meet his eyes, pretend to be spellbound, pretend he's...who? "Yes."
"So do I. I know we've only just met, but I feel very close to you. I hope I won't frighten or overwhelm you by saying this, but...I think maybe you're the one I've been looking for. Could I..." Jonah gazed at him in a way that made Zack think of a boring romance film. "Could I be the one you've been looking for as well? Do you think?"
Zack had looked down, steeling himself against his fear and disgust, and now he flickered his eyes back up, shyly but with a smile that he tried to make glow. The anxiety he couldn't repress only made his inexperience more obvious, and Jonah's gentle, hungry eyes drank it in, becoming brighter as Zack feigned speechlessness and nodded. In a chivalrous manner, the doctor bent over Zack's hand as he raised it and pressed his lips to the smooth white knuckles.
I can't do this, I can't do this, I want Angeal. Two warm droplets stung Zack's eyes as they escaped and raced quickly down his cheeks. The trained SOLDIER in him, however, refused to run, refused to freeze, and instead parted his lips and began to pant softly.
"You're flushed," Jonah observed quietly. "Why don't we step outside for some air? And a little privacy..."
Outside...whichever direction the doctor chose, outside should be safe. Turks were monitoring from the adjacent rooftops. And Angeal was out there, somewhere...
"Um, okay. Outside sounds good," Zack said clearly, so the men listening in couldn't miss it.
The 2nd allowed himself to be led to one of the club's three exits, the one to the left that led out into the west alley. Zack glanced around the dance floor as they weaved their way through the crowd, thinking he saw Reno's face wink at him but realizing he might have imagined it. They were moving too quickly to examine anything properly, and in moments the bright red door opened and shut and the stuffy noise of the club was abruptly replaced by the cool of the night and the slightly muffled sounds of a city.
The alley was unusually clean and mostly empty, with a few discarded containers littering the ground and a dumpster at the very end that blocked the rest of the path. The other end led out to the street and the front entrance, and it seemed a hundred miles away. Here, Zack and Jonah were alone save for their ghostly shadows on the moonlit cement, and Zack knew, as they approached the dumpster, that he was willingly moving further away from the relative safety of other people and further into danger. He would have reached for his sword purely on instinct if he had had it with him.
There happened to be two crates stacked, one on top of the other, in front of the dumpster - Zack wondered quickly if the surveillance team had placed them there - and Jonah urged him to sit down. This brought Zack's height down so that he was about up to the other's neck, and as Jonah came close he seemed like a towering beast, the kind Zack had faced in VR simulations but so much worse.
"I thought we could...get to know each other a little here. You know better than to go home with someone you just met, I trust, and we should have enough privacy over here."
They were in the shadow of the metal behind him, starlight overhead but not reaching this place that felt chillier by the second. Zack didn't dare look up at the rooftops, but he thought of the Turks' top-of-the-line equipment, their night-vision visors and elite snipers, and took a deep, shaky breath. Jonah mistook his quickened breathing and trembling for arousal, and smiled reassuringly as he guided Zack to lean back. A kiss followed, and Zack again panicked at the thought of this man's tongue touching his, but again it broke off. No relief, though - the patient mouth worked its way down to explore his neck. When the doctor felt a racing pulse beneath his lips, he made hushing noises and slipped his hands under that Gaia-damned tease of a too-shirt shirt. This was as far as Zack had ever gotten with anyone and further, these alien caresses that made his chest feel overly sensitive, and he whimpered. Jonah nuzzled his fair neck a little more and pulled back to cup his face.
"Please don't cry. What can I do to make you feel better, baby?"
"You said...before..." Zack sniffled, "...that you could keep everything from hurting. How can you do that?"
"Oh. Well, I'm a doctor. I have something that will block the discomfort and make you feel only good." Jonah stroked Zack's hair with one hand; it felt nothing like Angeal. "You really are truly pure, and that's so rare. It would be wrong to let you feel any pain."
"Can you...show me this stuff? Let me see it?"
Zack bit his lower lip cutely immediately after asking. Jonah's eyes flashed with lust to see this, and he curled his right arm around the boy and pulled him close. Ignoring the rising, maybe imagined, bile in his throat, Zack snuggled against the embracing body that was all wrong, was not Angeal. Teeth nipped very lightly at one of Zack's ears, and a tranquil voice whispered in a kind of rapture that iced his blood.
"I'll do better than show you, baby."
Movement, from the doctor's other hand that slipped out of a coat pocket, and a sharp prick at his arm made Zack softly cry out. Shit, shit, Angeal, was all he could think, chancing a struggle, but the stuff was racing through his body like warmth and carelessness. His mako helped against the Shizukanal but couldn't stop it, and the unenhanced doctor's arms were containing him with little difficulty.
"Ssh, isn't that better?" Jonah tipped Zack's head back and stared feverishly into his dazed eyes, kissed all over the scared expression that the drug was relaxing. "Just let it happen. None of it will hurt, I promise. You're pure, I've got to keep you pure of this corrupting world."
"S-Stop," Zack croaked, praying that his weak voice reached the microphone in his pendant. "I mean...wait..."
"It's not safe to wait, baby, boys who look like you are never safe. I can make you safe from all of them." Jonah held Zack up by the nape of his neck with one hand, and with the other held up a syringe filled with dense white stuff. The death-dose. With wide eyes, the 2nd whimpered, but couldn't get any words out.
"Don't be afraid, baby. I'll make you feel really good, like I promised, and then you'll go to sleep. And then you'll never be spoiled, never defiled, never lose this beauty that the gods forced on you. Don't cry, precious, you understand, right? It takes more than a kiss to break this curse."
"No!"
"You! Freeze! One false move and we shoot!"
Jonah whipped around, dragging Zack with him and holding the boy like a life-sized doll in front of him. Zack was jostled as the man looked in panic all around, unable to break free, barely able to lift his eyes to the rooftops where at least three guns were trained on them. Jonah growled with frustration as he must have been realizing he was caught.
"You try anything and the kid is dead!"
"You are surrounded by Turks and SOLDIERs." Zack recognized Tseng's amplified voice. "You have no hope of escape. Release the hostage unharmed and your life will be spared."
"I haven't hurt him! Any of them!" Jonah held Zack more tightly, a hideous parody of Angeal's comforting squeezes and his hysterical voice promising anything but safety. "They were pure, they had to be protected! Others prey on them, hurt them, I had to make it stop!"
"And you've done a fine job," Tseng said calmly. "That will be taken into consideration. But if you want to keep your own life, you must let go of the boy now. I promise you, he'll be protected, just as you want."
Jonah seemed to be lulled by the head Turk's words, for a moment, then shook himself as though escaping a trance. "No, no! He's mine!"
"Commander, not yet - "
Zack's disordered mind at first thought he hallucinated the welcome sight that stepped out of the shadows. But he couldn't be imagining this, because he never knew until then how terrifying Angeal could make himself look. The broad body so skilled at hugs and training loomed over the alley like a Summon creature, seeming to grow larger as he approached instead of smaller. His brown eyes were mako-green with rage, the Buster Sword drawn, and even Zack was so afraid of his expression that he had to close his eyes. Behind him, Jonah's racing heart pounded, and the warmth around Zack went cold with horror.
"Let. Him. Go."
An hysterical laugh burst painfully past Zack's ear. "Why should I? You'll kill me, or they will, so why not do what I came to do? You'll see, it doesn't hurt them, I protect them!"
"That one is mine to protect, not yours," Angeal snarled.
"You love him?"
"Yes." Zack whimpered to hear this. He couldn't see Angeal's reaction, of course, but he felt it, like the stirring of a water's surface from the deep.
"Then you can stay. I'll show you. He'll just go to sleep, and no one will be able to hurt him."
"If you move that needle any closer to Zack, you will be shot dead before it reaches him."
"I'm dead anyway!" Jonah shrieked, gripping Zack still as his body became more limp. "None of them will let me live, so - "
"I will." Angeal's voice had calmed into one Zack almost knew. It was like his teacher-voice, only taut and stretched and giving its listeners the impression of a bomb that any movement could detonate. "My name is Commander Angeal Hewley. Do you know that name?"
"The honorable 1st Class," Jonah mumbled, either in awe or increased fear. "The sacred Buster Sword."
"Yes. If you let Zack go, I swear on this sword and my honor that Commander Tseng will not give any order to fire, and I will step aside and allow you to escape past me unharmed."
"You..." Clearly Jonah was shocked, as was Zack. Angeal couldn't free a serial killer to save one SOLDIER, that was a lesson of first-year tactics. Consider the many, not the few. "You swear?"
"I swear. Commander Tseng, your word?"
"Given."
"Now, please. Just put him down, and go. I don't care where you go or what you do, and I will not follow."
"Angeal," Zack whispered, and Jonah rubbed his face against the soft spikes, as though it had been his name called.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
Zack felt himself being slowly lowered, and the gasping relief of feeling cement along one of his sides was punctured by the 'blam!' and whistle of a bullet. His eyes were still shut but he sensed the shot came from behind them, where no one had been stationed, and then there was a sound Zack had only learned recently - the death rattle. Before the boy could force his eyes open a weight was on him, a body pinning him down, and the screams he'd held in all night came out, the kind of wailing only heard from infants and madmen.
"Zack! Zack!"
The weight was suddenly gone, allowing Zack to push weakly at the rough ground in an attempt to get himself up. Hands grabbed at him and he screamed again, screamed and screamed and screamed, mostly without words but occasionally a single name, and he couldn't shake off the arms that were enfolding him any more than he could Jonah's. Tears drenched his face and the fabric-covered chest it was pressed to, and though his voice was fading he couldn't stop shouting, just the name now.
"ANGEAL ANGEAL ANGEAL ANGEEEEEAL - "
Another voice was competing with his, strong but unable to pierce the noise of panic and chaos and drug-poisoned blood beating in Zack's ears. Yet another sound, a familiar rhythm but more rapid than it was supposed to be, was nearby, beneath skin and cloth. It wasn't until Zack recognized the motion of a hand smoothing his hair that he went completely still, and the screaming stopped, so abruptly that the absence of it was like a song. Angeal's hand, Angeal's too-fast heartbeat.
"A-Angeal?"
"It's okay." The distress in that unshakable voice made Zack grope for him, try to hug back to make his teacher feel better. "It's okay now. Puppy, look at me, please?"
Hesitantly, afraid to find himself back in the grip of a murderer, the 2nd opened his sticky, tear-swollen eyes. He was being cradled protectively in Angeal's lap, that comforting sense of touch - good, clean touch - all around. The brown eyes above were worried and over-bright, but the smile beneath them was one of genuine relief. Heaving a sigh, Angeal drew Zack closer and held the boy against his chest, not caring that he must look like a frightened parent. Zack pushed his face into the skin and sweater and Angeal-smell and breathed in, before he remembered the weight of a body from moments earlier and tensed.
"Angeal, where - "
"He's dead. It's all right, he's dead."
"Who..."
Two pairs of footsteps approached. Zack instinctively tried to bury himself further into Angeal's broad frame and was squeezed in reassurance. He would be embarrassed about it later, when the Shizukanal wore off, but Zack was trembling all over. It took a minute of gentle rocking and encouraging whispers from Angeal before he could look up.
There was Tseng, appearing unperturbed as he always did, observing Zack with a hint of concern in his curious expression. Beside him, a recently-fired gun in one hand, was Reno in his club-kid disguise, just a little out of breath and grinning.
"Hope it was okay to interfere, Commander," he drawled. "After all, I didn't promise the fucker anything, and I don't really give a shit about honor anyway."
"I trust your report will be more eloquent than that, Reno," Tseng said coolly. "You will need better words to explain yourself."
"Tseng, I would consider it a repayable favor if you would not discipline your subordinate for this infraction."
"Certainly." Now Tseng sounded amused. "But only since I knew all along what he was going to do."
One of Angeal's arms left Zack for a moment and reached up to clasp hands with Reno. Blinking with drug-induced calm, Zack stared at the lines of Angeal's face as it made a serious expression.
"Reno, thank you."
"No sweat, Mr. Serious, Zack's my pal. So can you stop shooing me away from him like I'm some kinda delinquent?"
"I apologize, if that's what I've been doing."
"We need to get back up to the roof," Tseng informed them. "The choppers are on their way, and a med tech. Fair must have only been given a small dose, but he still needs to be checked out."
A brief, passing rush of dizziness as Angeal stood, adjusting his arms beneath Zack's back and knees. Zack gripped the elder's sweater with white fingers as he was carried. There were people all around, Turks preparing for departure, curious civilians being kept back by the other 1sts, club security helping to keep the alley clear of patrons trying to stream out the doors. Sergeant Daniels, with Detective Innes, had arrived to take charge of the crime scene, and Angeal reluctantly let them approach, his eyes warning them to keep it brief.
Innes could only look at Zack with guilt and pity, but Daniels reached out to him - drawing back when Angeal shook his head - and softly said "Thank you for your help, Zack. You prevented many deaths tonight. I wish all my men were as brave and selfless as you."
Zack managed a weak, watery-eyed smile at the sergeant before Angeal was on the move again. The drug polluting Zack's blood made him feel a sort of forced pleasantness, a warm and listless ease in his limbs as they dangled from Angeal's arms. This numb calm didn't reach as far as his disordered thoughts, though maybe it was this Shizukanal that made Angeal's closeness feel so good that Zack didn't care who saw. Using what strength he could gather, the 2nd pushed his hand to travel up Angeal's chest, one fistful of sweater at a time, to reach his shoulder and grip it urgently.
"It's all right, Zack. We're going home."
TBC! Next time, on "Not Wrath of Gods":
"Zack."
The boy looked up, and thank Gaia, at least a glimmer of his spirit peeked out from behind the dulled blue luster over his eyes.
"You haven't been changed by this. Even if it feels that way right now. Understood?"
A smile answered him, and a soft "Yes". Angeal didn't believe either of them.
See you then...