"The Unlikely Team"

X-over

Sephiroth: Leader (Final Fantasy VII)—After Advent Children—Height: 6'1 Age: 32

Vegeta: Foil/Ego (Dragon Ball Z)—After Omega Shenron—Height: 5'6 Age: 67

Lang: Arbiter (Legaia 2 Duel Saga)—After End of Game—Height: 5'4 Age: 16

Ziggy: Order (Xenosaga)—After End of Xenosaga III—Height: 6'3 Age: 128

Chapter 10: Lucid Specter

One moment he was watching Sephiroth closely, the next he was utterly alone. It was a waking nightmare of his that he had often. He'd have to remind himself almost every day that he wasn't alone, that there were others with him. He tried to take solace in this. He desperately wanted to believe that he could count on the people around him, but there was always that awful feeling at the pit of his stomach that it would all fall apart. The funny thing was, he knew that he wasn't too far from the truth. He was not amongst friends, he was amongst strangers who did not get along very well with one another. There was no true bond between them. They were simply together by circumstances and that scared Lang the most.

What if one day he did wake up and they were all gone? Finally the day had come when that was the truth and not a dream he could wake up from. He looked around himself and saw no one. A very cold feeling began to grow inside him. There were only rolling grassy hills, some decorated with flowers others weren't.

"Is anyone there?!" Lang shouted.

But no one answered. He was all alone. That was when the tattoo on his chest began to shimmer and warm. Soon Galea stood before him with eyes that seemed accusing.

"You're never alone," Galea said, "I'm always here."

"I know that," Lang said looking away, "I talk to you all the time."

"Not lately," Galea observed, "You've barely called me forth for anything."

"There was never a need…"

"Does there have to be?" Galea asked.

"It just isn't the same." Lang was gazing at his surroundings now. "What should I do now?"

"You're asking me? Your guess is as good as mine."

Lang started in a direction and then continued down that route for a time before starting in another and doing the same. He was lost. He supposed that had always been the case, but with the others around it had become less of a concern. Where was Veil to guide him now? Were the others in the same situation? Would he ever find them again?

"We just have to keep moving," Galea said to the sullen youth, "Maybe something will happen, maybe we'll run into a village."

"That's a lot of maybes," Lang said in observation.

"Well it's better than nothing which is what will happen if we just sit here."

With Galea's support, Lang did in fact keep a good pace or at least what felt like a good pace. There was no path to follow and Lang felt as if he was going in a circle. He tried to avoid the hills, but there were so many of them that he found himself climbing up and down its slopes which tired him out far quicker than usual.

It was the longest day of his life. The minutes dragged on and on. He was basically forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. He welcomed the night. Perhaps a good night's rest would help him cope a little better.

Lang awoke in the early morning, eyes squinting at the brightness of the rising sun. He started to stretch as he usually did before he was interrupted.

"Lang, so you're awake."

Lang turned quickly to the new voice he knew to be that of Ziggurat. It was nice to hear such a strong, sensible voice—surely he would know what to do. In fact, he had no idea how he'd found him once again, but he didn't care, he was simply glad. And there he was standing in front of him as if all was well. He couldn't stop himself from leaping to his feet and hugging him outright. It had only a day. A day and Lang was already missing the company of others.

Ziggurat was firm and solid and real…and predictably startled by the other's odd behavior, but, in the end, returned his embrace.

"Has it been that long?" Ziggurat asked.

"What are you—how did you get here?" Lang asked pulling away from him.

"I don't know. My sensors have been unreliable as of late. It is becoming more difficult for me to determine what's real or…"

"Don't worry—I'm pretty sure I'm real."

"You're only 'pretty' sure?" Ziggurat asked.

Lang hesitated and then corrected himself. "I'm certain—I'm very certain."

"Hmm…" Ziggurat said after a moment. "You seem real enough, but then what of Maya? She must have healed me somehow…"

"Maya?" Lang asked; that name immediately ringing a bell. But surely he couldn't be talking about the Maya that he knew. Then again, Ziggurat had mentioned that she could heal just like the Maya that he knew.

"Do you know her?" Ziggurat asked.

"I think so. But what are the odds? I mean, why would she be here?"

"She's a friend of yours?"

"Yes, I've known her for awhile now."

"Perhaps she was brought here under the same circumstances."

"But if that's the case, how can we find her again? She was with you before and now that you're here, she must be alone…"

"We don't know that. The same thing could have happened to her."

"I hope so," Lang said with a sigh.

It was all he could do at the moment. Yesterday, things had felt so hopeless, but now Ziggurat was here and possibly even Maya. A good night's rest seemed to have brought him many good things. If this could happen so suddenly, perhaps finding the others wasn't nearly as impossible as he'd thought.

The cyborg wasn't exactly talkative, but he was good company. There was an air of positivity that simply was not there with Sephiroth. Though they were both lost and in the same boat, Lang felt somehow safer and more confident about their situation.

Only a few hours into the morning, Lang made out a dark figure heading their way and he immediately alerted Ziggurat about this in an excited manner—this could be Maya. Once Ziggurat laid eyes upon it, he stiffened.

"Can you tell who that is?" Lang asked noticing his strange reaction.

"It's him…the man of my nightmares—Voyager."

"Should we run?"

"What would be the point? He'd catch us anyway."

"But we can fight him, right?"

Ziggurat's eyes closed. "One can always try."

"Listen," Lang said as he turned to the other, "I don't know how powerful he is, but we need to work together if we're going to have a chance at all."

"We won't have a chance either way."

Lang placed his hands on the other's shoulders. He felt the need to shake him so that he could speak with more sense. "It sounds a lot like you're giving up and that isn't like you at all."

Ziggurat was looking at him squarely now with steely eyes that quieted his anxiousness. "You have no idea what I'm like." He moved away from the other's clutching hands. "I was simply stating fact. We do not stand a chance. I've fought him many times in the past. But I will not simply give up."

"Alright," Lang said satisfied with this.

But if the cyborg felt as if they didn't stand a chance, there was probably a good reason for this. When the figure became more defined and Lang could barely make out his face, a cold fear overcame him. Voyager wasn't even looking his way. His eyes seemed concentrated on Ziggurat and Lang was secretly grateful for this—he wasn't sure he could handle such a gaze. Lang turned to Ziggurat when he hadn't moved at all. It was as if an unspoken communication was occurring between the two.

"Ziggurat," Lang said urgently. "Ziggurat," he repeated.

He was utterly silent and still. Lang turned to the hooded man who slowly raised his arm toward Ziggurat with palms pointed outward. Lang wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew it couldn't be anything good.

"Let him go!" Lang shouted as his hand reached down to unsheathe his blade.

But Lang was never able to do it, frozen, it seemed, by fear when Voyager's gaze turned to him. Then, no matter, how hard he tried, he could not move.

"Your soul will be mine," Voyager said as he returned his attention to Ziggurat. "Isn't it about time, Jan, to answer the curtain call?"

"You can't just let him—

"Quiet, child. It is done. It is finally done," Voyager said.

"What's done?" Lang asked.

Voyager brought his outstretched arm closer to himself, his palm now facing upward. A bright, almost blinding ball of light showed there levitating on its own accord. A grin settled on his face.

"Wilhelm was right, his soul is quite beautiful. A shame that it was hidden in such…a hideous shell."

Lang's eyes widened at this. Was this…? Was that thing in his palm, Ziggurat's soul?

"And that shell is no longer needed."

Lang realized now why he was so nonresponsive. The whole time, Voyager had been ripping what Lang assumed was his soul out of his body. Until that moment, Lang wondered if he could consider a cyborg "alive", but this was proof enough. All in the blink of an eye, Voyager ended Ziggurat's life. He fell to his knees and eventually laid lifeless upon the ground. When Lang looked up again, Voyager was no longer there.

"Ziggurat," Lang said quietly. He had to make sure.

Now that he could move again, he dropped to his knees and pulled the other towards him. How could he be sure? He was a machine after all.

"Please, don't…" Lang whispered.

He sat there for several long minutes before Ziggurat's body began to disintegrate before his eyes. Slowly, it turned into particles that faded into the air until Lang was left with nothing. His eyes began to irritate him as moisture began to form upon them. He'd been there the whole time and there had been nothing he could have done just as Ziggurat had said. How could he have been so calm about it? He climbed back to his feet and began to walk forward. His tattoo began to glow and Galea revealed itself, but Lang plainly ignored him as he marched forward.

Voyager would not get away with what he'd done.

Regretfully, he hadn't known the cyborg very well, but he seemed like someone he could trust. He seemed like someone who did not deserve the kind of death that Voyager had dealt out. Every fiber of his being wanted to avenge his fallen comrade even though at the moment it was quite impossible. He didn't even know where to start.

Watching Ziggurat die so easily made him begin to think of the other two. How were they faring? Were they already dead? Was he the only one left?

A day passed and then another and things were returning to its monotonous routine. Ziggurat's death still hadn't left his thoughts even as he stumbled across one of the most unlikeliest of people to meet—Vegeta. At first, Lang thought he was dreaming, but it was true, he had actually found Vegeta.

"How in the world—what are the chances?" Lang asked—it seemed it was his go-to questions in such situations.

"What are the chances of anything happening?" Vegeta answered back with a question. "I don't know how I could have survived that fall…It feels just like that time I first got here to this world. Maybe Veil had something to do with our reunion," Vegeta finished thoughtfully. "I can't help but wonder what happened to Sharon…"

"You were with someone?"

"Yeah, a woman—a bit spacey, but an innocent nonetheless. She was just as clueless as to why she was here as we once were. I hope she's safe or that she doesn't meet anyone who means her harm."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Lang said to reassure the other.

Vegeta grinned. "There's no way you can be sure about that, but it's a nice thought. How about you? Met anyone besides me after we separated?"

Lang looked away. "…Ran into Ziggurat."

"You did? Where is he?"

Lang looked at the other and then shook his head."

"You can't mean…"

"I'm sorry. I was there and I—

"Who?"

"All I did was stand—

"Lang, who did this?" Vegeta repeated.

"He said his name was Voyager."

"Ah, the Black Testament he told me about. There was nothing you could have done anyway. But I will find the bastard who did this and make him think twice about doing something like that again."

Before Lang could respond, Vegeta was tackling him down to the ground just as a loud explosion went off exactly where he'd been standing.

"A ki blast? Out here?" Vegeta asked already back on his feet even as Lang was still in daze. "You stay here—I'll take care of this."

"No, I'm helping you."

But Vegeta was already running towards their new assailant. Things were moving so fast, Lang barely knew what was happening. There were explosions and smoke and then he couldn't see anything for a very long time. He at least had his sword out. He was looking anxiously for the one who was attacking but only felt a sudden impact upon his blade he had just brought up for defense. His defense broke, however, and he felt a jarring pain in his abdomen.

He was bent over in pain in a second. He waited for another hit, but it never came.

"Pitiful joke of a team. I only came for Vegeta—and he was an easy kill. For all his talk, his bite was laughable."

Before him stood a reptilian-like man though not in the same vein as Frieza.

"I'm known as Cell, if you wanted to know. I would kill you right here and now, but," and here he shrugged, "I don't want to waste my energy on a nobody like you."

"Why you! I won't let you get away with this!"

Lang charged at the other. For some strange reason, the lizard man just stood there with a triumphant grin on his face. When he swiped his sword horizontally at the other's torso, the blade felt like it struck brick and the backlash reverberation nearly broke his hand altogether.

"Ah!" Lang shouted as his sword fell to the ground harmlessly.

Cell laughed heartily enjoying his display. "Vegeta put up more of a fight than you, boy. I forgot how pathetically weak humans were."

Lang was holding his hand in pain, but still mustered the will to look back up at the other defiantly. "I'm just getting started."

"No," Cell said wagging his index finger teasingly at him. "You're not even a blimp in my eye. Goodbye."

Cell stepped closer to Lang and then with a flick of his finger sent Lang flying for miles. All Lang could hear was his fading laughter in the distance. Then he collided with the earth and skidded back for a few more yards before settling on the ground on his back. He was dazed, but still conscious. He had to find Vegeta. Surely a man who could face Sephiroth and survive could not have been brought down so easily.

Lang found it difficult even to walk in a straight line. That last attack had affected him more than he wanted to admit. It took him a bit to find Vegeta, but he eventually found him face down on barren ground mangled and bloodied. Lang couldn't quite believe the violence that had taken place in such a short time.

And he was already beginning to dissipate.

"No…no, please—not you too!"

Saiyans were supposed to be durable, able to withstand high levels of injury. Yet here he was watching Vegeta's corpse vanish right before him. Just like before, his eyes began to irritate him. His eyesight became blurry. He wiped across his face to clear his vision though the burning sensation was still there.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there in wonderment and growing despondency, but he was certain he hadn't heard the approach of another person. He was thoroughly startled.

"Why so down, Lang?" the newcomer asked.

"Sephiroth?!" Lang exclaimed, but before he could even leap up and embrace the other, Sephiroth sidestepped him and Lang found himself grasping at air.

"It's as if several bombs went off around here. Tell me, what's happened?"

And Lang told him everything starting from when they were separated. Apparently, their separation was destined to be short-lived since Lang had managed to run into all of them.

"I see," Sephiroth said after hearing the story.

"Is that it?" Lang asked incredulously. "They're dead. They're all dead. We need to watch each other's back."

"There really isn't much of a "team" left and I have little motivation in continuing this charade. I could care less what happens to you or to anyone else."

"You can't mean that."

"Of course I do. It's as if you haven't been traveling with me for all this time. Or are you truly that naïve?"

"As long as you don't plan on striking me down where I stand—I will follow you. Even someone like you might need some help."

Sephiroth only responded with a singular "hm". Lang sought out his sword and bent to pick it up with his dominant hand forgetting that it was quite sprained and dropped it with a very audible groan.

"Oh, yes, I have much need of a lame swordsman," Sephiroth said watching the other.

Lang used his other hand to pick up his blade and sheathe it. "I've practiced using my blade with both hands. It may not be my dominant hand, but I can still manage."

"Try to keep up then, swordsman," Sephiroth said turning from the youth and starting off in an arbitrary direction.

Lang sincerely hoped that they could make it to the next day without mishap. He was far more alert than he'd ever been before. His muscles tensed at even the smallest of off sounds real or imagined. All day, all he could see was the long white locks of Sephiroth's hair. Sephiroth walked ahead of him and Lang had no mind to walk side by side. He got the feeling that Sephiroth preferred his personal space over all else.

There was no exchange between them. Sephiroth was lost in his own world and Lang was too timid to even begin to break the silence. He felt it as a privilege that Sephiroth was letting him tagalong and he did not want to make him angry and change his mind.

When night time came, they were forced to stop as there were no moon that night. Lang sat quietly. He knew Sephiroth was still awake as he did not hear his sounds of sleeping.

"Lang, you're an utterly normal boy—have you ever fallen in love with someone before?"

It was such an out of the blue question that Lang was momentarily speechless, but at least Sephiroth still acknowledged his existence. Lang decided he would answer without giving the other a hard time about it.

"Yes…though it was never returned."

"And how does that make you feel?—falling in love."

"It's hard to put to words really. It's just a feeling like you've never had before. Like you could spend the rest of your life with that person. Like that person is somehow a part of you—a piece that you didn't know you were missing."

"Do you think everyone is capable of that sort of feeling?"

"Sephiroth, where is all this coming from? Do you like someone?"

"That would be impossible, but the idea of love intrigues me."

"Why is that?"

"Because of how easily it can be used and manipulated to create a lasting pain. Now I do somewhat regret the others' deaths. They'd be able answer things better than a boy who's barely experienced life."

"It's not rocket science," Lang argued, "And they probably wouldn't have anything better to say."

"Yet you can barely describe it. Do you really think that cyborg wouldn't have a mouthful to say? Something about him makes me think he knows a great deal. Did you notice how perpetually despondent he was? Some tragedy must have befallen him, something involving the heart I suspect. Even Vegeta might know more—he, who apparently had no conscience once upon a time. Only something drastic could change a man like that."

"You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?"

"Ever since I met that woman Bulma. I somehow got separated from her. I can't imagine she'd live for long on her own."

"So someone was with you as well? Geez, sounds like you didn't give her the cold shoulder as fast as you did me."

"She wasn't nearly as annoying as you."

"Annoying?"

"Clingy," Sephiroth said finding a better word.

"I'm too clingy? We're supposed to help each other—

"See what I mean?"

Lang heard the other lay down. "Fine, I'll try not to be so clingy in the future."

"That would be nice," Sephiroth said with a yawn.

It didn't take Sephiroth long to find sleep, but Lang was still too wired up. Even more than that, he was hypersensitive to any danger. Sephiroth was the only one left. Without him, he would be completely alone and Lang dreaded this the most. Whatever happened, however strong and capable Sephiroth thought himself, Lang would continue to look after the tall swordsman with the utmost of his abilities.

Of course there was no food the next morning, but Lang was beginning to feel it. It had been days since he last ate something, but he chose not to complain about it for Sephiroth's sake. Lang was still following the other diligently. Nothing had happened in the first few hours of their travel that day, but his heart was still thumping with anticipation. As soon as Sephiroth paused as if he'd sensed something, Lang already had his sword out. Sephiroth slid his rather long blade out slowly.

"What is it?" Lang ventured.

"Enemies…There do you see them?"

Little bodiless faces floated towards them now out of seemingly thin air. They were so creepy that Lang wanted to finish them off quickly.

"I remember these…"Sephiroth muttered to himself.

Lang might have heard, but he did not think it would be a good idea to stall any longer. The floating heads were moving towards them and there looked to be a lot of them. He cut down four of them at once.

"Wait!" Sephiroth shouted urgently.

It was as if he had just set off a minefield. They were surrounded now on all sides and the creepy little heads were close enough to the next one to be touching. Sephiroth's warning was too little too late as one by one each little head either exploded or sent out a bit of healing magic. All it would take was one explosion to set off four more little heads. They really had no defense against any of it. Lang suspected even just touching them would have the same effect and there was now no room to go around them.

Dust began to pick up. Lang lost sight of Sephiroth and he began to panic.

"Not again…" Lang whispered to himself.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not find Sephiroth and he kept running into more heads and there was always more explosions going off in the distance. Strangely enough, very few of his heads exploded. Most of them were healing him. Somehow, Lang knew this couldn't be the case for Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth!" Lang started to call out urgently. "Sephiroth!"

Lang had to wait for the dust to settle once again before he could find him. He did not look in good condition. His torn clothes, the amount of bleeding wounds indicated that he had not been as lucky as Lang. His sword had been struck into the ground and his hands grasped the handle as his kneeled form leaned against it.

"Are you…okay?" Lang asked tentatively when he approached the other.

Lang knew he didn't like to be touched so he kept a respectable distance. His body shuddered as he coughed out a nice amount of blood.

"Pathetic, isn't it," Sephiroth finally said surprisingly clear. His head rose up as he sought out Lang.

They were unseeing eyes, Lang realized, when Sephiroth did not immediately find him. His sight must have become damaged in all the explosions.

"I'm here," Lang said moving closer to him. He sat down beside the other. "I'm right here."

Sephiroth's hands abandoned the sword as they felt for Lang much to his surprise. This was the most Sephiroth had ever interacted with him as his hands found his face eventually and ran down the length of it in a gentle way. They were soft, feminine hands as if he spent his days getting manicures rather than fighting, but Lang knew him to be an accomplished warrior. And Lang could not stop himself from blushing as the other perused his face.

"There…" Sephiroth's said softly, almost inaudibly. When he was satisfied, his hands left the other and instead found place on the ground to hold himself. Another cough wracked his body and more blood came forth onto the ground.

Lang was too immobile, too scared of what the other might do if he tried to comfort him. There were simply too many mixed signals to contend with and Lang wanted the other to save his strength.

"…Those stupid two-faced monsters…I haven't seen the like in ages," Sephiroth said as his eyes looked mostly in his direction. "And, of course, I have the worst luck…I honestly thought…I could handle more than that."

"Sephiroth, don't worry—You're still alive. You just need rest."

"If I close my eyes, I won't be opening them…I think…I think I can see you once again…"

Throwing caution to the wind, Lang moved in to help him up just before his body gave out altogether. Lang had not anticipated the other falling into his arms like that and probably Sephiroth had not either, but the tall swordsman did not have the strength to protest. Lang tried to hold him up but his body had become limp as he held him in an embrace now. Lang could hear him still breathing, but eventually it slowed until there was nothing left.

This time his eyes irritated him, they moistened, and then tears came forth. Once they started, they would not stop and Lang did not care to stop them.

Lang found himself waking up, but he found he was on some sort of hard metal bed. When he tried to move he couldn't. His limbs were quite secure behind metal clasps. He couldn't cry out because his mouth was gagged. He was in such a dark room, that he could not make out his surroundings. All he really saw were small green, red, and yellow lights blinking on either side of him probably against a wall.

He heard footsteps, heavy and slow—a larger man.

"Give me your sadness…" the man said solemnly, "Give me your tears…You will watch your friends die over and over again until I have enough data."

Lang struggled against his bonds, but it was of little use. He would not escape, he realized; he was trapped in an eternal hell. He felt a sharp pain in his neck as something small entered it and then as it slid back out again. It didn't take long for him to become drowsy once again. He fought against it, but eventually he fell asleep, left to languish in a twisted world of dreams.