Let's have some light-hearted fun before the angst hits the fan and sprays all over Angeal and Zack...ew, sorry for that mental image. You know what's scary? I could so make smut out of that.
Angeal: "Please don't."
Well, it's late, and though I'm not tired for the first time in weeks, I should probably take my meds and try to rest, at least. But here's a new chapter, enjoy! And check my profile for a link to the soundtrack to this story!
NOT WRATH OF GODS
Chapter 14 - Startled And Stricken
"Some good news, finally!" Zack reacted to Genesis's announcement with a grin that was very like his old self. "Did they say why they're postponing your deployment?"
They were in the living room of the Hewley/Fair apartment, seated on opposite couches but close enough for both of them to reach the game board between. Normally Zack liked thelema, a sort of Wutaian version of chess, and was good at it, but now that it had become one of the few distractions he was strong enough for, it was kind of depressing. Therefore, he welcomed all the more eagerly the news that Genesis in fact wouldn't be shipped off to Wutai. Yet, at least.
"Not really." The fiery 1st scanned the green and brown checkered board and wiggled his mouth in thought. Thelema was a game of endless variation, all the intel skills and strategy of battle with none of the adrenaline; Sephiroth was much better at such things. "Something about giving Commander Tate a chance to prove his ability to lead and earn his recent promotion. His is the unit I was intended to take charge of. Also, I got a notice that Legal wants to talk to me or something."
"The legal department?" Zack looked concerned. "Are you in trouble?"
"Not as long as that stockboy at Yes & M really was eighteen."
"Gen," a voice called in a warning tone. Angeal was over near the main entrance, picking up the last of the celebratory confetti their guest had flung upon coming in.
"Sorry, 'Geal."
"I'm not five, you know," Zack said with a pout. But the expression softened and faded when his mentor returned and sat down beside him. "Can I get up now? Just for, like, fifty squats?"
"No."
"Thirty?"
"Sorry, Pup."
"Fifteen?"
"This exchange reminds me of one of my more bizarre blind dates," Genesis said languidly, stretching cat-like once he completed his turn. "I mean, really, who goes to a masked ball at Boyztown dressed like an old man? Had to give him snaps, though, never thought I'd get turned on by anyone in a walker. I've got to tell you that story, Puppy - "
"Genesis."
"When you're older. Like, forty maybe. Or the next time 'Geal goes to the bathroom, whatev."
"He won't let me train at all," Zack complained.
"We trained this morning, Pup."
"That was jogging, not exercise. I feel like I'm gonna leap out of my skin or something."
Angeal gently patted his apprentice's back in apology. "I know it's frustrating. But you're at nothing like your usual energy level, and if you overdo it even a little, you could seriously damage your health. Try to be patient for a few days, okay?"
"I'll try," the boy said grudgingly.
"If you're feeling up to it, we can try some light hand-to-hand tonight."
"'Cause it won't matter if I suddenly pass out at night," Zack interrupted glumly. "My friends are doing sword drills right now, and sparring."
"Well, they need much more work than you do," Genesis said brightly. "Think of this little vacation as a chance for them to catch up to you a little, hmm?"
Zack continued to pout, but nodded a reluctant acceptance. Genesis earned a quick glance of gratitude from Angeal.
"So, Gen. What depths have you sunk to, that you've got Legal coming after you?"
"Nothing! Not more than usual, I mean. And even if I were, you'd just yell at me for polluting Puppy's ears."
"I'm not a baby and I don't like either of you."
Genesis continued as though Zack hadn't grumbled, twirling his stemmed glass of wine in his elegant fingers. "Obviously, yet another company's advertising division is desperate to get me under contract, and Legal is tired of fielding so many offers. Poor dears. I've slept with a few of them, but maybe I should be charitable and - "
"Gen."
" - um, bake them brownies. Like the kind we had in Ilyra that made me hallucinate."
Zack nudged his warrior-monk piece forward two squares and sighed defeatedly. "You know, recent events should have made it clear to you that I do actually know what sex is. Hell, I might've had it without realizing, right?"
Light-hearted mood gone in an instant, Genesis shared a worried look with Angeal as the younger of them eased a protective arm around Zack's shoulders. The boy slumped and made no attempt toward a hug, but nor did he shrug away. It would've been childish and probably futile, considering how weak he was. And anyway, though he didn't want to admit it, there were almost no times or situations in which he didn't want Angeal's comforting presence close.
"Hollander says you haven't," his revered teacher was gently reminding. Zack kept his eyes down, having understood when he was told about the exam being performed but still embarrassed about it. "It's okay."
"Does it hurt?" the teenager asked flatly. "If you won't tell me, I'll just ask Genesis."
Angeal cleared his throat. "That...depends. It...well..." Gaia damn it, his student's adorable sexual ignorance was turning on him. "It feels...like..."
"A stretching that hurts at first, sort of burning, and then it stops hurting?" Zack interjected.
"Honey, how exactly do you know that?" Genesis asked, on behalf of Angeal's moving but silent mouth.
"I remember feeling...it doesn't matter. It can't have really happened."
"It's okay," Angeal soothed, determined to soothe no matter how uncomfortable the subject was. "Your clothes weren't removed during these occurrences, and...Hollander would have been able to tell."
"Did it hurt afterward, you know, in your bottom?" Genesis asked, as casually as he could. Valid question, after all.
"No," Zack mumbled, anchored by Angeal's cradling arm though he was trying to sink through the floor and hide. "But it didn't feel good...after."
The adults understood without needing to probe that further. Angeal's life had become a rather chaste one lately, but he'd had a decent amount of sex before then, and he well recalled (from the rare times he'd bottomed) the feeling of loss and disconnectedness that comes after the act is finished. Withdrawal, emptiness. Damn it, sex was complicated enough with a trusted partner, what was happening to Zack was -
Fume later, take care of him now.
Zack roughly rubbed at his eyes under the pretense of brushing his hair out of them, and predictably found himself drawn protectively to Angeal's warm chest. He gave in and hugged back, feeling almost like he could absorb much-needed strength from the friction their spirits produced. Strange, when this larger body used to make him feel weak and tiny by comparison.
"Can we go back to talking about how Genesis is gonna get in trouble?"
Genesis chuckled. "Don't worry about me, Puppy. If things get sticky, I'll just flirt my way out."
Zack withdrew from Angeal's hug and leaned back against the couch cushions. "I'm glad you're not going to Wutai. But if you were, maybe you could find out what ShinRa's not telling us. About Wutai's involvement in all the recent flare-ups, I mean."
"Not likely. They even have Seph on a need-to-know basis."
"Really?" The boy looked surprised and thoughtful. "He must not like that."
"It's hard to tell how Sephiroth feels, even for us," Genesis said, and Angeal nodded. "But I imagine you're right."
azazaza
Sephiroth slowly and methodically paced the area of floor behind his desk, his steps as effortlessly graceful as a dancer's. With each turn his luminescent silver hair billowed slightly out behind him and caught the overhead light beautifully, though there was no one present to marvel at this, and the general had never understood why people fawned so much over his hair. Yes, it was a rare color, yes, it was different, but what about him wasn't that word that meant alone?
As his purposeful strides continued, Sephiroth's liquid-mercury eyes frequently darted to the screen of his desk computer, on which several files were displayed. All complicated documents, regarding old and recent missions having to do with Wutai, as well as the latest reports from the Turks. They were professional, well-organized, detailed enough. It wasn't anything he was seeing that was bothering Sephiroth; it was what he wasn't seeing. A few prisoners had been taken by the Turks and interrogated; here were the results, complete with doctored death certificates. But no photos of the corpses with the autopsy reports, and that was not standard procedure.
At first, the general thought it was a clerical error, that the photos hadn't been uploaded yet or had been misplaced. But out of a feeling of obligation (and perhaps a dislike for SOLDIER's rival program), Sephiroth had always paid close attention to the relatively few prisoners who'd ended up in ShinRa custody. This attention ensured a certain amount of justice was accorded to these unfortunates...not that Sephiroth was concerned for such criminals, of course. His loyalty belonged only to the company. This thought would have made the young legend smirk had his mind not been too preoccupied.
The general remembered all these prisoners, and of the ones who had died while in custody, post-mortem photos had always been included in the final report. Someone less familiar with company procedure might shrug off this anomaly, but Sephiroth knew that everything the Turks did and didn't do was for a reason. Of all the many exceptional skills and attributes the general possessed, he depended upon his remarkable memory more than most of the others. It was memory that allowed him this suspicion of something being hidden, and memory that he probed now, searching for a possible answer.
What logic is there in suppressing autopsy photos? They are always heavily restricted, so this cannot be about autopsy photos in general, only these particular ones. There may be something about these recent bodies that the Turks do not want revealed. Not violence, certainly, they kill without leaving a mark. What, then?
Though most of their information had been stored in his mind already from repeated readings, Sephiroth looked over the classified files of the five prisoners again. Only one was Wutaian, but two others were half-Wutaian. One was a prominent public speaker and teacher of cultural history from Kalm (reported missing), who had long been on ShinRa's to-watch list for loudly spouting his views on the mistreatment of Wutai by the company. The general remembered him, a man who looked like any harmless intellectual, who had held a small protest the last time Sephiroth was in Kalm. "Demon," they shouted at him, and he'd had to restrain a few of his 1sts from retaliating.
Demon. It had made him think of the battles of Wutai where Sephiroth had forged his reputation, the warriors who ran screaming just from the sight of him. The villagers who had shouted the same insult in their own language. Oni. Fiend. Demon. Different. The faint, silent pain of these thoughts prompted a memory of Genesis talking about this to him years before.
"Yes, Seph, half the world thinks you're the spawn of Hades and the rest want to get in your pants. It balances out. Ooh, look at me, I'm Sephiroth! I'm an inhumanly hot genius and unbeatable in battle, but I'm also all emo 'cause no one understands meeee and the peasantry call me mean names - ow, 'Geal! He knows I'm kidding! Seriously, Seph, forget everyone else. The people that matter love you."
With little difficulty, the general shifted his attention back to the computer. The last prisoner's name was not a familiar one, but the file stated that he had made frequent trips to Wutai over the past several years, presumably as part of his work as an importer. Each prisoner had been a ringleader in the recent acts of anti-ShinRa activity. Wutai was the source of these attacks, and they were all connected. The Turks had evidence of this which the general was not yet permitted to know.
Could this evidence be present on the bodies themselves? Is that why there are no photos?
With purposeful strides and his eyes fixed determinedly forward, Sephiroth left his office, speaking to no one as he walked, until he was at the medical labs. At first, the personnel there were a little surprised, as the general's health was under Dr. Hojo's supervision and so he never had need to come here unless he was visiting an injured subordinate. Sephiroth was not the kind of person who was safe to interrupt for mere curiosity's sake, so the doctors and assistants stayed out of his way and only snuck curious glances. Not until he made a beeline for the morgue door did one of the senior physicians hurry over with his hands raised in a 'Stop!' gesture.
"General, sir, I'm sorry, but you aren't authorized to enter."
Sephiroth stared at the doctor, an average-looking man in his thirties, analyzing the reaction to himself in order to know how to proceed. Once, he would have used fear to get his way no matter the situation, but since then he had learned to tailor his attack to fit the target's weaknesses. This particular target was Dr. Brannan, a no-nonsense but kind surgeon that the general had known for many years. It had taken Sephiroth a few of those years to realize that Brennan's concern and pleasantness masked stronger feelings; whether lust or something purer, these feelings were a target. And everyone knew what, who, ShinRa's best weapon was.
Sephiroth gentled his eyes and expression as best as he could and titled his head so that a long shock of bright hair fell forward past his shoulder. Brennan's eyes widened at that, at Sephiroth's ethereal beauty so close, and the faint beseeching look directed at him from marble features and pink lips frowning.
"I understand, Doctor, and I aplogize for the intrusion. You see," he said in a confidential tone, "there is something in that chamber that I must confirm with my own eyes. The lives of my men and perhaps many others are at stake. I would greatly appreciate your cooperation, as a personal favor."
Brennan hung without blinking on every word, losing himself in the shifting pools of silver full of or feigning an unexpectedly human concern and pleading. One had to look closely to ever pick up emotional changes in the great general (unless you were one of the very few who were close to him), but Brennan was quite certain of what he was perceiving. What he was being gifted with the sight of. Sephiroth, Sephiroth, needed his help. Just the thought of doing an appreciated service to the ethereal angel made Brennan feel light-headed and giddy, on top of the high that merely being near Sephiroth brought, close enough to catch the lingering scent of violets from his hair.
Then a tiny smile (no less beautiful for its faintness) came to the surface of the marble face, seductive whether its owner intended that or not. Before he'd made a conscious decision, Dr. Brennan fumbled with the ring of keys of his belt, and after a few slips of his clumsy fingers, made haste to unlock the heay morgue door.
"O-Of course, General, I'm sure you wouldn't ask unless it was necessary, please go right in, and if there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate - "
With a difficulty and discomfort he hid, Sephiroth briefly brushed his soft hand over the doctor's trembling one. It was a casual touch, implying nothing sexual, but it was enough to daze Brennan and make him breathe more rapidly through his smile.
"There is. My own physician - " He avoided using Hojo's name whenever possible. " - were he to know I am about to look at dead bodies, would insist upon observing me as I do so, for his own curiosity. I would prefer to avoid that, so I ask that you not speak of my visit here."
Brennan nodded with a frown, a fervent glow of righteous indignation in his brown eyes. Like many within ShinRa, he knew of Hojo's possessive, scientific attitude toward Sephiroth and hated it.
"Of course, sir, my lips are sealed."
Another slight smile, a nod of thanks, and at last Sephiroth was in the large, cold room that served as the med lab morgue. In the center of the bare cement floor, four slab-like autopsy tables rose to about waist-high. Upon each was a drain similar to the ones here and there on the floor, and the lights above very nearly matched the stark, bright chill of every medical place the young general had ever known.
He had been in morgues only a few times in his twenty-two years, mostly to look his last on a fallen comrade who'd been high-ranked or well-liked. The first time was long ago - he couldn't have been more than seven or eight - when Hojo had brought him here to understand the impermanence of the body. The coroner at the time was horrified to see a child allowed to attend an autopsy and had made his objection known, but the little boy had been calmly fascinated, pointing and naming each organ and bone as Hojo smirked proudly.
"This is death, Sephiroth," the scientist had said, but no, to the precocious child it was merely another puzzle, another informative lesson. One can't experience the truth of death, which is merely loss, until one has something to lose, and that didn't happen for Sephiroth until he was fourteen and in command of a force of men. The first he lost was a Lieutenant Anthony Pavao, aged nineteen, from Junon, and Sephiroth remembered every detail he'd ever known of that life and death, that irreparable rite of passage.
The compartments that filled the metal walls were all marked by numbers that corresponded to names on a list posted by the door. Sephiroth found one of the conspirators right at the top, Hanaki Lancier, and yanked the matching door open easily to slide the bagged corpse into view. He unzipped the shroud all the way down, exposing its front completely, feeling no particular unease about the cold, dead flesh but accepting that he'd have to examine it thoroughly...and then Sephiroth saw the man's chest, and for a heartbeat his insides felt as cold as the steel and concrete of this room.
The mark was distinct, eye-catching, obvious. There was clearly no effort made to make it inconspicuous, as it extended from groin to abdomen, clear accross the stomach and about the size of two hands laid closely side by side with palms down and fingers together. The ornate character had been seared deep into the torn flesh and healed cleanly, preserved as a deep red scar of lines and curved angles that stood out even more now that the color of life had faded from its deceased canvas.
Numbly, Sephiroth stretched a hand out and hesitantly let his fingertips fall upon the brand, tracing its strokes in the correct order he had learned for Wutainese characters. It took no measurable time to translate a symbol that he knew, whose meaning he had seen before. On other bodies.
It can't be. Sephiroth didn't sweat (no one knew why), but if he could, he would have been shivering in a cold one. This was the answer, this was the secret ShinRa had been keeping from him...Lazard had been keeping from him...
"Why?" Sephiroth asked aloud, and the heavy air echoed the word back to him as though in answer.
azazaza
Zack wondered if this was a bad idea before he even reached his classroom, despite having had to beg Angeal to let him go. Yes, he was excused from his lessons for the time being, but today's test on materia was an important one. Though Zack didn't need good grades to assure his future with ShinRa, he did need to pass certain exams in order to use high-level magic, receive promotions, etc. Zack felt he already got enough special treatment without asking for a make-up test too, and Hollander's stimulant potions gave him enough energy, if not to fight, then at least to function. He left Angeal's hovering and protective presence to head to the classroom, and only then realized how wide rumors of his illness had spread.
Barely ten steps from the apartment door, Zack ran into a pair of 1sts who had heard a bizarre theory about a debilitating disease that struck every Gongagan in his/her teen years. Had Zack been his usual self, he might have mischievously feigned sadness and asked them to keep it a secret so no one would treat him differently during his last days. Instead he smiled wearily and practiced his I'm-fine-just-tired-and-Hollander's-investigating-it speech.
This was repeated to the cadets who'd heard he was in a mako-overdose coma, the 3rds who thought he'd been given a deadly form of flu by ShinRa's enemies, and the fan club representative who'd snuck past security somehow to tearfully offer any of her organs that Zack needed to be well again. The boy pulled out all his charm to reassure the awed girl, and even signed a hand-drawn comic of himself for her, deciding not to question why he and Angeal both seemed to be naked in it.
Just when he thought the Gauntlet of Reassurance was over and he had arrived, Zack met Lts. Kunsel and Varley together just outside the door. Whooping happily, they leaped onto him for a three-man hug, and after Varley stepped back, Kunsel was startled to realize how much effort Zack was putting into merely standing after being glomped, how thin and pale he seemed, how he had bags under his eyes where they had never been before. Under the pretense of making the hug last, Kunsel silently urged his friend to lean against him, which Zack gratefully did until he felt better and wiggled away to smile.
"Lemme guess, you heard I lost all my limbs in an industrial accident?"
"Nah, Commander Helwey told us you haven't been feeling well and that we shouldn't worry," Varley said. "But..you know. He also said you couldn't have visitors yet and it's too quiet around here without you, man."
Kunsel looked at the younger 2nd solemnly. "You're not really back yet, are you?"
"No...I just didn't want to miss the test. And I'm getting claustrophobic at home, so..."
"Well, when will you be back?" Varley asked with a pout.
"I don't know. Dr. Hollander's still trying to figure out what's wrong so he can fix it. I'm okay, though," Zack said quickly. "Tired all the time, that's all."
"Well, can we come by and annoy you, at least?"
"I'll ask Angeal. I would appreciate the company, definitely. Angeal's good about playing video games with me, especially now that it's practically the only thing I can do, but he doesn't understand the fun of playing for six hours straight. I don't get how he can be so clueless when he's so smart and good at everything else," Zack finished with a fond smile.
"Only you could get away with talking about a legend that way," Varley laughed. Kunsel merely looked thoughtful, and slung an arm around Zack's shoulders as they walked into the Materia classroom.
Waves and a few cheery hellos were directed at Zack from the rows of desks. Instructor Marten greeted Zack warmly and asked after his health, and Rudner and Kabe glared at him with contempt. Oh, well. Even Zack couldn't please everyone.
The three friends all spotted Declan at the same time, standing alone in the far left corner where the morning sunlight poured through a line of windows. Zack's friends gave him a word or two of encouragement and a nudge in that direction, then disappeared toward their desks. The teenager made his way across the room, slowly, not just because he lacked energy but also because the awkwardness he felt toward Declan's feelings made him nervous. Declan was an ideal boyfriend for him. Whatever the reason their relationship couldn't happen, Zack knew the fault lay with himself.
And yet the older boy never showed frustration or blame. He was grinning now, clearly thrilled to see Zack and worrying about him at the same time. Declan let out a slow breath and blinked with relief, and Zack felt very suddenly that he should speak first.
"Hi. Um, I'm sorry if you've been worried like the others."
"Kunsel and Varley told me you're okay. Are you really?"
"I guess. I feel..." Zack hesitated. "I don't know. Foggy, maybe? Dr. Hollander's handling it, so really, you don't need to - "
"Worry?" Declan smiled sadly. His handsomeness and affection made Zack's chest ache. "I'll try. Is there anything I can do?" An unspoken "Please?" hovered in the air between them.
"Just keep being my friend."
"Just...friend?"
Zack looked at his boots. "I'm hopeless," he murmured. "And defective. You deserve someone better."
"No such thing." Declan, mustering his courage, lifted Zack's chin with gentle fingers and caught his eyes in a calm gaze. "Of course we're friends. Just...think about it awhile, okay?"
Why couldn't the soft touch of skin on skin be a revelation, a surrender that made Zack's heart pound and limbs tingle? Instead it was like being this close to Kunsel and Varley, warming and appreciated but...nothing else. Blinking away the sting in his eyes, Zack nodded, turned away and took a seat at his desk. The test paper passed to him just moments later was a welcome diversion from his confusion and guilt.
Maybe it had been a good idea to come, after all. It was relaxing and oddly soothing for Zack to work his way through the exam; with his good memory and natural intelligence, the only difficulty was sitting still, and not wondering how much he was hurting Declan. And trying to shake off the feeling of loneliness and unsafety he'd had since leaving Angeal's presence.
What's wrong with me? Have I really become such a baby lately that I need him to hold my hand every second? Ugh, I'll never be a hero at this rate, just Angeal's hopeless sidekick, forever.
His pencil was hovering over the last question when he heard the classroom door open without a knock proceeding it. Zack and the rest of the students looked up to see two unfamiliar men in blue suits approaching and quietly talking to Instructor Marten. A bad feeling swept over Zack like a wave. These were not Turks, Turks wore black, but they walked with a similar strut of arrogance and confidence. And oh Gaia, they were walking toward him.
"Lieutenant Zack Fair, 2nd Class?" one of them asked.
The instructor was hovering behind with an expression of worry, his classmates were watching curiously and nudging one another. Zack noticed none of this, though, because he was unconsciously shrinking back in his chair.
"You're not in any trouble, Fair," one of the men said with a patronizing smile. "We just need you to come with us."
azazaza
Zack had left for class hardly ten minutes earlier, and already Angeal was distracted from his paperwork by the apartment's emptiness. With his student temporarily withdrawn from classes, he had grown used to sensing (if not seeing) Zack close by, knowing that any moment he would see Zack's beaming smile, hear him laugh or insist they have a spar. In his pre-Zack life, Angeal had never known he was lonely; only the arrival of the remedy had made him realize the problem.
He's just taking a test, the commander reminded himself with annoyance. He'll be back soon. If Zack is safe without me anywhere, it's here within the Compound.
Angeal was jerked out of his reverie by another distraction, the sound of the main door opening and someone coming in at a rapid, boot-stomping pace. He wasn't expecting anyone...could something be wrong?
"Pup, is that you? Is everything - "
But no, it was Genesis who came into sight. He didn't walk from the entrance hall into the living room as much as stagger there, with his face clenched tightly and carefully styled hair a mess, like he'd run at breakneck speed from the other side of Midgar. Genesis's slumped posture was nothing like the upright, proud way he usually held himself, and he was out of breath. Genesis was never out of breath.
Angeal leaped to his feet, intending to go to his friend, but felt like his boots were glued to the floor. "Gen, what's happened? Are you okay?"
Electric blue eyes burning with fury, glowing with mako and hurt. Genesis nodded with a few robotic jersk of his head and continued to breathe in gasps, reminding Angeal of him as a child when Genesis was trying to not cry and not ready to be comforted. What had worked then? Calmness, what Genesis had always lacked and Angeal had in abundance.
"Did something happen with Legal? Are you in trouble?"
As if to complete the picture of all things Genesis was not supposed to be and do, two perfect tears the same color as his eyes broke free and streamed down his cheeks.
You guys are gonna HATE those lawyers, if you don't already...TBC! :)