Yeah, it's me again. I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed (I know I did that before but I just can't do it often enough. ^^) and all the people who ever offered to beta-read my stories. (It's been two altogether…^^) I'm sorry, I just cant accept that (even though it's needed, I know.) but thanks anyway.

Chapter III

By Kia

*** ***

It was cold. That was the first thought that came to Zidane's mind as he woke up from some strange dream he didn't really remember, nor did he want to. All he knew was that it wasn't that kind of dream he liked but that kind of dream that was close to a nightmare yet not quite bad enough to cross that line, something lost forever in between, that was at the same time too close to reality to not leave a bad aftertaste even a long time after waking up. But whatever it might have been it had disappeared on the way back to reality, had vanished into a sea of darkness and half-forgotten memories, leaving only a vague feeling of desperation in his chest, a feeling of endless searching for something that was lost forever even though he didn't know anymore what exactly it was he had lost then, nor did he care.

Maybe it had just been his heart.

There was a dizzy feeling in his head and as he opened his eyes everything was spinning around him.

He was lying on a bed, on his bed, he noticed as he carefully moved his head only enough to look around. Strange, he didn't remember getting here, somewhere at Lario's bar his memory just stopped. Had he drunken so much?

But it didn't feel like a hangover. It felt like a mixture of the flu, pneumonia and food poisoning and every bone in his body seemed to ache. And he felt so weak. Maybe sitting by the open window hadn't  been such a good idea but he hadn't really cared than and he didn't now. If only his head wouldn't hurt so much…

He opened his eyes once more, though even the dim light seemed to hurt. Pale, grey light of a clouded afternoon. The room seemed so dark in it, so cold yet it was also kinda comforting to him. Everything seemed so calm in this light, so unimportant, as if the entire world was frozen in time and there was nothing wrong, nothing to care about.

Only now did he notice the figure sitting beside him, his head resting on his folded arms on his bed so that he could see little more than his hair. Red and spiky. Blank. Apparently asleep. He wondered what he was doing here. But it was so hard to think straight when everything was a fuzzy mess in his head.

His eyes closed again, of their own as if they decided that they wouldn't like the light anymore but he didn't mind and welcomed the darkness as it came back to him.

***

When he woke the next time Blank was gone.

It was darker than before, not really dark as it was at night but the shade of the light that filled the room was already closer to black than to grey.

He was feeling better. Not much, but enough that he could move his head without whimpering in pain, and after a few minutes he even made the effort of sitting up.

Immediately the room started spinning before his eyes but he just stopped moving and waited for the world to calm down around him. After a few moments it did.

Standing up was another thing. Every part of his body seemed to hurt when he moved it and as his feet touched the wooden floor beneath him a wave of nausea washed over him, nearly making him vomit all over the bed. But he managed to suppress it, somehow, and after a while this feeling also passed, leaving nothing but weakness and a light feeling in this head. Even the pain had disappeared into some hidden corner of his mind where he could easily ignore it.

He felt so empty, suddenly.

As if without the pain there was nothing left of him

Somehow he managed to get to his feet and – very slowly – move over to the window without stumbling. It just seemed so incredible far away all of a sudden.

The window was closed, but he opened it and leaned forward, into the wind that was still blowing, not as strong as yesterday but just as freezing. Some ice to fill the empty void inside him.

The sun was setting, but it was hidden behind a thick layer of dark grey clouds so he couldn't see it. He didn't want to.

It had been raining, he could tell, the streets were still wet and the air was clam and smelled like rain. The weather was fitting to his mood.

Dark, cold and empty. Especially empty. He knew, if he reached deep inside his soul he'd find nothing but the dying echo of emotions that might once have been there.

The only other thing he found inside himself was the bitter feeling of being left behind, mingled with regret because he knew that it was his own fault. If only he hadn't said it. If only he had seen it coming. If only he hadn't been such an idiot.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, as if the person he was talking to could hear him. His eyes filled with tears as he looked up to the grey sky, but he didn't feel like crying so the tears must have been caused by the wind. The wind.

"I didn't mean it! Come back, you idiot!" He was speaking louder now, would've screamed if he had the strength for it and he wondered why his voice sounded so strange. Angry but also a little desperate, like a lost little boy screaming for his mother. And his voice moved up towards the sky but the sky didn't answer and the world was spinning again, around him, faster and faster until there was not difference anymore between anything and then everything went black.

***

Blank cursed silently as he tried to open the door without dropping the tablet he was carrying.

He had left Zidane's room only ten minutes ago, after he had woken up from a light slumber and realised how hungry he was.  He hadn't wanted to leave the sick boy, but of course he was alone again, while everyone else had disappeared somewhere in the city. Only Cinna was still there but he had dozed off on the sofa which meant that not even a war could wake him up right now. So Blank had to go himself since there wasn't anyone else he could have send to bring him something. Oh, yes, he would have suppressed his hunger until he starved, hadn't Zidane's fever gone down when he'd woken up. In fact the other boy had looked as if he was also going to wake up anytime soon so the redhead thought that maybe he'd be hungry too then. So he had left the room, hastily made something that could be called a meal if one had a tiny little bit of fantasy and returned as soon as possible. He wasn't prepared for the sight that lay before him as he finally managed to open the door.

Zidane was lying on the floor, right under the open window, motionless and pale, like dead. Blank cried out his name in shock and the tablet scattered onto the floor.

He started screaming for anyone to come here and help as he headed over to his fallen friend, yet he had little to no hope that Cinna would hear him.

Zidane didn't stir as Blank kneeled down beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. His skin was cold as ice.

"Oh, please, not again." the redhead murmured to himself as he carefully moved his arms under Zidane's shoulders and the back of his knees and the picked him up to carry him back to bed. He felt like a child in his arms, far too light for someone his age. They really had to make him eat something once he got better….

After he had tugged the younger boy under the cover Blank went back to the window to close it. And when he returned to Zidane's bedside it was just in time to hear him mumble something in his sleep, something Blank tried to understand at first and tired to forget after he succeeded.

"…ja…" was the first thing the redhead made out and the next was, more clearly: "…I'm sorry…"

For some reason his heart turned to ice at those words.

"Don't be." he whispered and didn't know why he said it.

-tbc-

06.04.2002