EDIT (6/22/2011): Took out the original author's note here. Upon further consideration, it was really pointless and not needed.

In any case, hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think!

THE KILLING HAND

CHAPTER TEN

One second Tifa had been in Zac's arms taking in as much comfort as she could to last for a lifetime, and in the next, his lips had been upon hers in a fury.

Shocked out of resistance, she felt herself falling into it far too quickly. Mouths parted and heads slanted, tongues slipping and sliding against one another in a frantic battle for something she couldn't name. Hands roamed over heated bodies that were pressed so tightly against one another that she couldn't tell what belonged to whom. Beneath her fingertips, strong muscles bunched and shifted and it was with distant surprise that she realized her hands had slipped beneath his shirt to touch bare skin.

She didn't—couldn't—spend much time wondering about that fact because her hair was fisted around one of his hands and he was pulling her head back to give him access to the sensitive skin of her jaw and neck. His mouth was hot there and it sent a tingling burn all along her limbs and drenched her in mindless bliss.

It'd been so long.

He was desperate; she was desperate, and the fire that blazed between them was even hotter than the one that burned down the school.

Really, she shouldn't have been surprised at this intensity because this moment had been building since she first laid eyes on him. What was surprising was the overwhelming feeling of rightness, that being in his hold was exactly where she was supposed to be. That wasn't just surprising; it was damned frightening.

It was enough to give her the strength to shove him away roughly.

"Stop." She didn't recognize her voice so roughened by passion.

As if snapping awake from a trance, Zac cursed under his breath even as he put more distance between them. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this. Damn fucking shit! Bloody fucking idiot!"

The coarse words pouring out his mouth surprised her. In the short time she'd known him, he'd always been nothing short of courteous. She watched him warily as he paced back and forth in the small space of her bedroom.

Finally, he seemed to have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden, he was all up in her personal bubble again. Disturbingly, rather than feeling annoyed like she normally would have, Tifa was filled with a sense of giddy anticipation fueled by the recent memory of his strong body tight against hers.

At this moment, he exuded danger, and she reveled in it.

"Tell me you feel it too."

"Feel what?" she asked as steadily as she could, even though her voice sounded thready even to her.

Confused? Check. Consumed by a burning lust she had no place to feel? Check that too.

"This! Us! This sense of knowing each other better than we know ourselves. Tell me you feel this connection too."

The heat that had filled her limbs so completely and made her head feel so heavy suddenly chilled because she did feel it. And the last time she'd felt this, this sense of having found her soul mate, it had ended in tragedy. She refused to repeat her past mistakes.

Steeling herself, she stiffened her spine and wiped all traces of that almost-overwhelming desire from her face. She had to make this convincing, both to Zac and to herself.

Then she opened her mouth and lied. "No. I don't feel it."

Zac narrowed his eyes at her, and for once, she almost felt afraid. "You're lying."

The accusation stung because it was true. But Tifa hadn't spent these years in self-denial and guilt for nothing. "You're one to talk about lying."

"What are you talking about?"

"Where's your accent from, Zac?"

"I told you, Fort Condor," he replied indignantly, but this time, there was a thread of uncertainty stringing through. It was enough to spark her temper.

"And you're still lying to me. I know it's not Fort Condor. I met one of your fellow townspeople today. And surprise, surprise, he's not from Fort Condor, but Gongaga. Why did you lie?" His hesitation cost him because now Tifa was armed by righteous fury. "Who are you? Did you lie about that too?"

"Damn it, Tifa, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down. I want the truth. No more of these half-lies. I need to know."

Zac thrust a hand through his already-mussed up hair, and if she weren't so angry, she would have blushed over the fact that she had made that mess. Dimly, she noticed that his bandages had started to unravel and that she would need to fix them later.

Much later, if she didn't get any answers now.

Finally, he took in a deep breath and stopped pacing. "Alright, so I lied about where I was from."

Even though she'd already known, the admission was like a punch to her gut. It was one thing to know; it was another to hear from his own lips.

"Why?"

He shook his head. "Damn it, Tifa. You have to know by now that I would do anything for you." He stopped her before she could interrupt. "No, you wanted to know, so here it is. I've been in love with you for so damned long, but I knew I didn't—don't—have a fucking chance with you because I look like him. Do you know how much that hurt me? Add to the fact I have his face that I also come from his best buddy's hometown?"

Grasping onto anything wrong with him she could, she argued, "How do you know about Zack at all? We don't talk about him much."

His eyes narrowed at her and she felt the chill of it down to her bones. "I told you that I was 'one of those guys.' I meant it. I love you so fucking much, it hurts, and at the time, I thought the only way I'd ever feel close to you was by learning more about you. I didn't think, okay?"

Already, Tifa could feel her anger melting into panic. Anger was easy to handle; the notion that he'd done all this just to have a chance with her? Oh gods, she couldn't stand it. Swallowing against the incoming hysteria, she struggled to hang onto her ire. "So you decided it was better to lie?"

"What was I supposed to do? I just wanted to have a chance to make you happy. I wouldn't have even had a shot if I'd told you everything in the beginning."

Which was true. Not that he had a shot now. She couldn't let anyone close to her like that anymore. She'd only end up hurting him.

They were at a stalemate and they both knew it. Unstoppable force? Meet immoveable object.

It was probably a good thing that Marlene and Denzel chose that moment to enter the room. They both glanced from one to the other with such an expression of fear that it tore at her bruised heart all over again. Kids didn't need to hear the arguments of adults, and they were obviously already worried about what had happened.

Tifa paled at the thought of what they might have caught if they'd come in only a few minutes earlier. She couldn't decide which was worse: their fighting or their…kissing.

"Tifa?" Marlene's voice was quiet and her big brown eyes questioning as she let go of Denzel's hand to wrap her arms around Tifa's leg.

"It's okay, sweetie." She brushed a hand over Marlene's head, smoothing the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid. "What are you doing in here?"

Just as Marlene was saying, "The flow—" Denzel cut her off. "I don't want to be a burden."

She froze in shock. Oh gods, what kind of child has that kind of burden on his shoulders? Tifa's vision blurred and she closed the distance between them until she was kneeling before him. "Denzel, you are not a burden. You have never been a burden. I'm glad you're here and I want you to stay here. I don't ever want to hear you saying that again. Do you understand?"

His grey eyes were stubborn, but he nodded slowly. "If you're not arguing about me, then what are you fighting about?"

She closed her eyes and hugged him tight. Gods, they'd heard them after all. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved that he hadn't heard her accuse the only family he had left of lying, or heartbroken that Denzel would ever think himself unwelcome. She sometimes forgot that between the time his parents died and Zac finding him, Denzel had been left alone for several weeks to fend on his own.

"Oh honey, sometimes adults aren't very smart, and we argue when we should really be talking things through. But know that what we were arguing about had nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with you."

She felt Zac kneel down next to her and for once, she wasn't overwhelmed by the heat of him brushing against her. She pulled back from Denzel so that he could see Zac, but kept her hands on his thin shoulders.

"Tifa's right, little man. Adults don't always make sense, but no matter what happens, you're stuck with us. You got that?"

Again, Denzel did his solemn nod. After hesitating for a slight moment, he asked, "So, no more fighting?"

Tifa hesitated. What kind of answer could she give? She didn't want to fight, but truth was, she and Zac were due another explosion sooner rather than later. She didn't want to lie to Denzel, not even in this.

In the end, Zac saved her from having to say anything. "Denzel, we'll promise that we'll try real hard not to fight anymore, but we can't promise we won't ever fight again. It probably shouldn't be, but family members fight with each other all the time. And we're family, aren't we, little man? Family might fight, but we never ever give up on each other."

Even as Tifa's heart stuttered on the word "family," she knew that the last part had been directed at her. Zac wasn't about to give up on her. It took her a while to realize that the assurance relieved more than horrified her.

Just then, Yuffie popped her head in and her expression would have been comical if Tifa didn't have a whole other mess to deal with. "Y'ello. Did I miss the memo for the party in Tifa's room? That's just not right. I mean, there's no such thing as a party without the Great Ninja Yuffie."

Thankful for the interruption because everything was suddenly bogged down with hidden meanings, Tifa stood and wiped the nonexistant dust from her shorts.

"No, no party. I do have a couple of rebels who need to get ready for bed though," she said as she gave Marlene and Denzel her you-better-do-it-or-else look.

"Pft. It's not even ten yet. Let the kids live a little."

Tifa leveled her gaze at Yuffie. After having spent those many months as both Yuffie's older sister and friend during their trek around the world, she knew exactly which look to give that would make Yuffie listen. It was the one she'd used right before she handed Yuffie her ass after the whole stealing-materia fiasco.

Yuffie threw up her hands. "Geez, fine, be that way."

Tifa thought she caught her throw out a "slavedriver" somewhere in her muttering.

Yuffie paused by the doorway after she ushered the kids into the hall. "Oh by the way, Zac buddy? You might want to mop up that glop of black goo you just dripped on Tifa's carpet." Her tone was flip, but a thread of concern lay just beneath.

In unison, Zac and Tifa looked down on the floor and saw the nasty black stain. Heart thudding wildly in her chest, her gaze travelled up his body until it rested on his left. Most of the bandages had unravelled, but the pieces that hadn't clung to his arm in a wet, black mess.

With a shaking hand, Zac tore off the rest of the bandages and let them fall to the floor. Neither of them cared where the bandages landed. All they could see was the large black infection that crawled from his upper arm to his elbow. His recovering burnt skin glared brightly red underneath the black until the combination created a disturbingly demonic effect.

"Oh God."

She wasn't sure which of them had spoken, but the words broke through her daze in a rush. Her legs felt like globs of jello as she stumbled to Zac's side. Instead of catching her like he normally would have, he stepped back, still clutching his arm and staring at it in horror.

"Zac."

"No, stay away." His breathing was erratic. "I didn't know. I didn't even suspect… God damn it, I thought the pain was from the burns healing."

Her mind scrambled as she struggled to make sense of this. "No, it doesn't make sense. Yuffie said that only those who lost hope, those who think they're going to die get infected. You can't, you didn't…"

"No, I didn't think I was going to die. But it doesn't fucking matter how I got it. Shit, I gotta get away."

"No! What are you thinking? You have to stay here with Denzel!"

If he heard her, he didn't show it. "I gotta go. What if I'm contagious? I can't spread this to you or Marlene. I can't hurt you."

How could it be that even now, his first thought was of her?

Frustrated and with tears stinging her eyes, Tifa tried to close the distance between them, but he again moved away. Gods, she hated this sense of déjà vu. And to think that just minutes before, she'd been the one dodging away from him. It was annoyingly humbling.

"Zac, listen to me. Geostigma isn't contagious. Even if it was, Denzel is already here. You're not going to infect us anymore than we already are. Stay with us. Please."

When he locked gazes with her again, there was a wildness there that shocked and frightened her. Even worse, she could see his irises flashing from deep violet to crisp, ice blue to that goddamned cat-green and back again. But what scared her the most was the resolve she saw in those eyes. He was determined to leave, determined to leave her.

Tifa didn't know why she suddenly felt so betrayed. She'd been the one who insisted that whatever this something was between them that it wouldn't, couldn't be anything more. She'd been the one to deny any closer connection.

But now that Zac had the Stigma and his being taken away was suddenly a very real possibility, she found herself wondering why she'd ever tried to push him away.

"Zac, don't leave me."

There was a war waging in his mind, but when his jaw locked and his eyes solidified back into their beautiful dusky blue, she knew she'd just lost him.

Voice rasping, he finally spoke. "I'll…stay in touch."

And with that, he left her with nothing but the black essence of evil festering on her bedroom floor and a painful void where her heart should have been.

…

When he comes to, his thoughts are fractured just like they are every other awakening, but for the first time in a long time, he is not plagued by the constant pull of voices clamoring to be heard. It's foreign, this silence, and he's been immersed in a pit of chaotic sounds for so long that the utter quiet makes him uncomfortable.

He doesn't quite remember how to laugh—even a mocking one—but if he could, he would have scoffed at himself. How ironic that insanity seems normal to him now. How very pitiful.

He does not have time to dwell on the poetically twisted nature of his mind. The voices will come back, and when they do, he will be overcome and forget. He cannot forget. He must remember.

This is his revenge.

PART I FIN

A/N: Dun, dun, dun...And so ends Part I. Leave a review and make sure to hang around for Part II!