Chapter Six: The Angel in the Slums

Zack had to sit in the dirt for a while, head between his knees, letting the blood drip from his nose to the barren earth below. He tried to poke it a few times to see how badly it was broken, but no matter how cross-eyed he went, he couldn't really tell. He sighed, knowing he just had to make it back to HQ for a little Cure action. Nothing that would be permanent. Hopefully. He didn't want to wear this embarrassment on his face for the rest of his life.

When the bleeding stopped, he could focus on the mission again. Vance. The men in Hana's life sure ended up being thorns in everyone's sides. He was surely as mad as his father Blackwell if he thought he could take on Sephiroth…

The events of the past month came crashing down fast and hard. Feelings that he'd managed to dam were beginning to rear their ugly heads again.

Would Vance kill Sephiroth? Could he?

Did he care?

Zack groaned. He didn't care. He didn't care what happened to Sephiroth, not after what he did. He'd prefer that he never ever have anything to do with the silver general ever again. But he didn't want him dead either, as fantastical a possibility as that was. And he couldn't imagine what Hana would do if her husband came to harm.

He owed it to Hana at least to see if there was any truth to this at all.

So he did some squats to keep warm and focused until nightfall. He knew better than to return to camp.

He knew from past visits the general vicinity of where the base was. He saw the food come from there, and the better dressed troops headed that way every now and again. There was always rubble to hide behind, there were almost no guards, and the ones that were patrolling were too hungry and cold to do a very good job. An easy approach. He should have done this much sooner.

It was a church. Tall, stately, amazingly intact. No vandalism on the white stone, except for a chunk of roof missing, even the stained-glass windows had been left untouched by time or human hands. It was such a strange and out-of-place thing to find in the filth of the slums.

Zack approached and pulled the heavy wood doors. Locked. He didn't know what else he had expected, everything else had been too easy. He backtracked and started to look for a better way in. The windows would give easily but would also give him away too quickly. Also, that would be a shame.

The roof? There had to be something up there. Pieces of it looked pretty weak.

He put his gloved hand to the cold marble. Smooth, and not enough mortar between slabs to wedge his fingers into for handholds. He kicked the building with his toes as he thought.

A thought brought a small smile to his face, which grew wider and wider the more he thought.

Zack had in his bangle Sephiroth's very own mastered Aeroga. He simply hadn't returned it to him after he had gotten back from Wutai.

And that would pack a serious vertical punch.

Last time Zack had cast Aero on himself had been an unholy disaster, turning Sephiroth's office into a decidedly un-festive snow globe of documents. But there could be no catastrophe this time! He was outdoors, he was already filthy so no worries about the dust it'd kick up, and the objective this time wasn't to do laundry, it was to be launched, which was a task far more suited to a materia honed by the Demon of Wutai himself.

He nodded, determined. Yes, he was a genius.

With a hum he began to feed his will into the green materia at his wrist. It answered willingly, and it wasn't until the breath was ripped from his lungs that he realized, far too late, that he was casting Sephiroth's mastered Aeroga on himself.

He did go up as intended. He had to have gotten some pretty intense altitude, because while his memory of the time he spent whirring in the vacuum and being slammed against the walls of the church was a little hazy at best, he knew for sure that after all that he had come violently and suddenly down.

He lay sprawled on his back unable to move or see or breathe, a weak and breathy "aaaaaaah uuuuuuuhhhhh…" spilling from his mouth like the blood from his nose.

When his vision did return, Harvey was above him, standing over him with a deep frown on his lips.

"Hi pops," Zack wheezed. Then, sheepishly, "…Did you see that?"

Harvey shook his head, grabbed Zack's arm, and dragged him through the dust.

"Hey!"

"Shut up boy."

Zack didn't have the capacity to protest. He was, however, very pleasantly surprised as Harvey opened the doors to the church and hauled Zack inside.

"Quiet," Harvey grunted. "Listen."

Having gotten inside the church so easily despite his own best efforts, he was inclined to comply.

Harvey dropped Zack behind a pew and left him there. Several chandeliers hung above him, but now served only as structures for spiders' webs and long abandoned nests. The pews were carved hardwood, well and beautifully crafted, clean but not well used. He couldn't see anything more about where he was or where Harvey went or who else was there.

But he heard a slap sharp enough to make his own cheek burn. There was a quick gasp, a sound too small a reaction for such a hit. Had it been muffled by a gag?

The place smelled like…flowers? And it was lit only by the light spilling through fogged and colored glass, tinted and faded. Such soft fragrance and lighting did surprisingly well at keeping the darkness in the corners away.

Zack blinked, admiring the otherworldly atmosphere of the stately building.

A place like this shouldn't have been able to exist down here in these slums.

"You can't stay silent forever. You're trying my patience and I'm not above getting creative if you don't cooperate."

"Stop, Vance," Harvey said. "The men are mutinous. That is more urgent."

"I will tell you what is urgent!" Vance howled. Zack grimaced. It was the voice of a madman, low and dark and angry. "If you don't have the stomach to do what needs to be done then return to your post. I don't need your help!"

Zack managed to roll to his stomach with a woof, still a fish out of water, glad that Vance's yelling masked the sound. His arms were faring better than his legs, and with a good amount of effort, he was able to army-crawl his way up to the next row of pews. Still no visuals on anything except a family of rats that skittered away as he dragged himself past their home.

"Are you trying to stall? Have you gone soft, Harvey?"

"I was a SOLDIER."

"Yes you were. So I bet you know all kinds of tricks that would come in handy right about now."

"You want her dead?" Harvey grumbled. "I killed. Interrogation is Turks' business."

Zack stopped. Firstly, because all had gone still and if he made the slightest move it would be heard. But even more than that, it was because he was close enough to see the prisoner now, and she was staring right at him.

Yes, he blinked. She. A woman.

A very, very beautiful young woman.

Zack's guard dissipated. An angel, he thought. Fitting for the church. She sat with a patch of white and yellow lilies at her feet, miraculously growing through a hole in the floor. Her lacy light blue dress was adorned with bows and a sweet spray of pastel flowers at her shoulder. Most of her long brown hair was tied behind her, but unbound loose curls brushed her collarbone and peaked bangs framed her face and brushed her jawline. Girlish, innocent, and delicate.

But her fey green eyes told a different story. Even tied with her back to a stone column, she still held herself with dignity, eyes steady and calm in the storm. She wasn't afraid, though her lips were pressed tight. Was she angry? Annoyed?

"You could break her fingers, surely. Unless your SOLDIER strength has faded with age, old man."

She had seen danger. Lots of it. Enough that she wasn't fazed by her captor discussing her imminent torture.

Zack knew she saw him. He could only see Harvey and Vance's boots under the pew but tied as she was close to the ground, she was staring straight at him, her eyes locked with his without any sign of what she thought of him on her expression.

Her pure, angelic face gave Zack a sudden burst of energy and urgent desire to intervene.

He flashed her his very most charming, toothy grin and waved his hand in greeting. Hi! he mouthed. I'll get you out. For extra clarity, he pointed to her, to himself, and then gestured back to the door with his thumb, with a wink for a cherry on top.

Her expression remained carefully set. She blinked and reacted no further.

"She can't help you," Harvey said.

"You are soft on her! Why? Because she's a pretty little bird? Then you can watch me do it!"

Zack grit his teeth. That wasn't going to happen. There wasn't time to think of a plan, so his hand stretched and his materia flared, if he had to make an entrance, he might as well do it with a bang.

Vance stepped forward and Zack reached for Aeorga, but it wasn't his spell that halted Vance's approach.

"Stop! Don't step on the flowers!" she scolded.

Zack's spell died, choked from its energy and sizzling away. He hadn't expected that. Neither, it seemed, had Vance, who stopped dead in his tracks.

Seriously?

"You surprise me, Aerith," Vance said with a sneer. "But if that's what gets you to cooperate…" He lifted his other leg and brought it down dramatically, grinding some of the flowers beneath his feet.

"Cast Holy."

"I couldn't if I wanted to." Her refusal was barbed, sharp, her voice a low and melodic peal reverberating through the church. "And if I could, it wouldn't help you."

"Cast Holy. I know you're used to being intimidated, but I don't have the same interest in preserving you that ShinRa does."

Aerith did not answer.

Vance lunged and grabbed her by the throat with a roar.

Zack had seen enough. Materia would hurt the flowers, so he went old school. He ambushed Vance from behind and ripped the man from his prey. Perhaps before Vance even knew who was behind him, Zack threw him back into the pews hard enough to topple the first one he hit and leave the second to fall over him.

Harvey sighed, meeting Zack's triumphant grin with a harrumph and a shrug. "Real smooth, kid."

"Yeah well fat lot of help you were, Pops." Zack's sword was out and at the ready. He knew from Vance's past encounter with Sephiroth that the guy could take a hit.

Vance got up as expected, grunting as he pulled himself from under the pew. "Ah," he said, sizing up Zack with contempt. "Those eyes. One of Sephiroth's little friends, I take it?"

"Not really. If it makes you feel any better, this wasn't his idea. Don't think he could care less about you."

Vance was winded, and there was blood leaking through his shirt. He looked like a wild man, wiry, wavy black hair unkempt and matted, and scars on his face that scruffy stubble could not hide. He was well equipped for the cold in a skillfully worked leather and hide, the lush fur of a long animal wrapped around his neck and draped over his front. His belt had a spray of sharp teeth hanging from it, some fangs long enough to weaponize. Pockets all over his body looked suspiciously knife-sized, there at his hip was a holster holding a handgun and a long machete.

Vance drew the machete, hoisting it up to point at Zack with only slightly noticeable difficulty. "Good. I'd hate to take up much of his life before I'm ready to take it completely."

"You're stark mad. Guess you got that from your father."

"Look at that pretty bird behind you. She's going to do it. She's going to kill Sephiroth for me. Isn't it incredible?"

"I heard her say no," Zack said, and he swung his sword behind him to hit the stone pillar with a clang, severing the woman's bands in one elegant swipe. "So she'll be going now."

Aerith got to her feet and ran with only one glance back at Zack.

Zack sent her off with a wink. He had her name, and could never forget that face. He'd find her again. Soon.

"Hana would be upset if she saw how low you've sunk. Maybe you should think less about Sephiroth and more about her."

"Get my sister's name off your filthy lips! Harvey, take him out!"

Zack started, he hadn't expected that. He swung behind him as precaution but hit nothing. Harvey stood back, arms crossed, leaning against the pillar. Zack maneuvered back to get both of them in his sights, very aware of the gun at Vance's hip.

"Harvey!" Vance barked again.

The old man sighed long and deep, a sound tired and worn. In that moment, Zack saw his true age, his SOLDIER strength gone. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "You've gone too far, son," Harvey said softly, sadly.

But Harvey was a former SOLDIER, and he unleashed from his palm a Sleep spell strong enough to wind Zack as it flew by him to hit Vance square in the chest.

Vance fell with barely a sound.

Zack looked at Vance. Unconscious, unarmed, he noticed his features were too soft under all the scruff and wear and tear. He looked like a lost, ragged little boy.

"Are you on my side then?" Zack asked Harvey, toeing the unconscious Vance with his foot.

"No," he said. "Leave. Now. Find the girl and take her far from here. Cosmo Canyon. She'll be safer there."

"From Vance?"

"And ShinRa."

Zack set his face. "You know I'm a SOLDIER, right? I work for ShinRa."

"I know an insurgent when I see one."

The comment washed over Zack like ice water. "You're wrong!" but his words were as hollow as they were loud. This was the second time he had been put in a position to openly defy ShinRa. And the second time he was asked to do so to protect a woman.

In his mind's eye, he remembered Hana's bloodless face, eyes and mouth open in abject horror, as she was sprayed in her husband's own blood as a single wing had torn itself from his shoulder. It had been a message from ShinRa, as much meant for Hana as it had been for Sephiroth. They would have done the same to her, or worse, to use her as a pawn on her own throne. It had been a fate only narrowly avoided, and one not truly escaped yet.

He didn't know a thing about Aerith. He didn't know why ShinRa or Vance were after her. But he knew what lengths ShinRa would go to in order to extract whatever it was they wanted from her.

Zack clenched his fists. It wasn't any of his business. He was a SOLDIER. Fighting is all he knew. Sorting out things was someone else's job. What was going on, who the enemy was, it made no difference to him.

He was going back to base to report. She wasn't any of his business. He'd probably get assigned to monster cleanup duty and he could forget all this ever happened.

Harvey shrugged and harumphed. "She's in the Sector 5 slums. Hurry."

Zack left the church. His thoughts were heavy and troubled. He couldn't go back through camp, the only route he knew back to the plate. So he picked a path and followed, knowing that he would run into a train station sooner or later.

The night was restless, the slums creeping with creatures and people doing what they had to do to survive under the cover of darkness. The shadows cast long under the pale light of streetlamps danced with danger and desperation. But Zack was removed from it. The shadows gave him a wide berth, dissuaded by the enormous sword he bared and the shimmering dance of a half-cast Aeorga that he absentmindedly played with at his fingertips. The whole journey, he remembered Hana, and Aerith, and for some reason he kept smelling flowers.

When he had gathered his wits enough for him to come back to reality, he saw a sign demarking the border of Sector 5.

And fate would have the last laugh, because regardless of whatever decision Zack had made himself, Aerith was right there waiting for him.