Author's Note: Back from vacation! I have to admit that I actually had this chapter completely written before I left, aside from a few minor changes. Yes, I was that busy procrastinating on doing other things. And I have to say, again, that the next chapter, or the next several ones, may come at irregular intervals. I will actually be moving to a new house sometime this month, though I don't know when, so things will be hectic around here.
On a different topic, I can never remember what it is that I mean to say in these Author's Notes when I first start writing a chapter. A while back, I meant to say a few words about materia in this fic, just as an FYI, but it completely slipped my mind. Anyway, for those who are sticklers about those sorts of details (like me), there will be a combination of materia both from the original FF7 game and Crisis Core. There are discrepancies about the specific materia used in the games: in Crisis Core, materia that contained several spells in the original game have been split up and called different names, and there is no All materia (something I've lamented on several occasions). I prefer the materia in the original game, since they give more options, so that's the materia that I'll mainly use here, though I will also include a few specific materia from Crisis Core that have no equivalent in the original game.
I've also begun a new FF7 fic, completely unrelated to this one. I couldn't help it, the idea came to me and I had to start writing! I hope to alternate between the two fics from now on. The new fic is not posted yet - just letting you know to keep an eye out for it, if you're interested. It will not be a crossover, but it will be an AU. And that's all I'm going to say about it at the moment!
Chapter Six
Scars of Friendship
Darkness.
It was all around him. It was all that existed anymore, the muted sights and sounds of the outside world having faded long ago into distant memories, somewhere up there upon the surface. He'd forgotten so much.
He'd forgotten what it was like to see. He had memories of things like colors, particularly red (too much), green (he'd been drowning in it), and black (it stabbed and tore and hurt). But those were fading too, and a part of him was glad of it. He didn't want to see those colors anymore.
He'd forgotten what it was like to hear. There'd been cruel whisperings in his mind, whisperings that tangled his thoughts and made him forget who he was and what he should be doing. And even longer ago, there'd been screams, screams that both pierced his ears and shredded his throat. But the memories of these sounds diminished as he fell into the darkness, and he was glad to see them go. With them went the memories of the sounds of names… names like Hojo, and Jenova, and Sephiroth. As sound lost any meaning to him, here in the dark, so went the meaning of those names.
He'd forgotten what it was like to feel. This, perhaps, was what he was most glad of. It seemed to have dominated his existence – incredible pain, so much of it… so much, in fact, that it seemed to stretch back, long into his history. He didn't want anything to do with it anymore.
Lastly, he'd forgotten what it was like to have purpose. This, he was not so keen on forgetting, because it filled him with a sense of loss; it was almost enough to make him get up and search it out again. But he didn't have the strength to move, and with the loss of the memories of names that had been important to him, the purpose faded away, also.
Despite all this, he had the very distinct feeling that he'd sunk into this darkness once before, on behalf of another name, which he'd forgotten, too. It was like dropping into the depths of an immense, black ocean. It completely surrounded him; it was vast, extending for eternity in all directions. Because of this strange familiarity, he was not afraid, content to wait as he fell.
What he was waiting for, he could not remember.
It felt like he'd been sinking for a long time, yet still had far to go. But, before he realized it, he'd reached the bottom of the sea of darkness. And there he stood, yet still waiting.
He didn't know how long he waited – it could have been forever as easily as a moment. But suddenly, with eyes he'd forgotten he possessed, he saw something.
Tiny sparks of green light slowly brightened into existence around him. They were dim, but with nothing else save darkness around him, easy to distinguish. Green… He was sure that the color was one of the things he'd forgotten, something he didn't want to remember, but this green was comforting somehow, not the green that poisoned his thoughts.
He watched as green tendrils appeared near his feet, swirling gently like an early morning mist. They beckoned him somewhere, and he felt compelled to follow. He could almost feel… a presence, voices, somewhere very distant, in the direction of the wisps of color. One was low, rough, and comforting; the other sweet and melodic. He thought that he might like to join those voices. As unafraid as he was of this darkness, he was ready for something different.
The voices grew a fraction louder as he headed toward them. But then something changed. They grew alarmed, though still so faint that he could not make out what they were saying. And then the swirling tendrils started to withdraw, back the way they came, back to the voices, but too quickly for him to follow.
An unnamed fear gripped him, and he tried to hurry after the light, not wanting to be left behind. He wanted to join the voices, but the light was receding too fast; it was going to abandon him to the darkness with no path to follow.
W-wait!
He cried out with his heart, but it made no difference. The voices had become sad, but insistent – they were not going to let him come.
The light vanished. He was alone again. But this time, it was not the comforting darkness it had been before; he now knew of something other than this, and yearned for it, the presence of the voices. But they did not return.
And then his world of darkness was upended, and sent him spiraling into the unknown.
Sephiroth sat, watching the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest, as he slept. Monitors beeped steadily, reassuringly, in the background. Zack was still pale, but he'd regained some color since the operation, and no longer looked as if he was about to knock on Death's door.
The operation had taken several hours while the doctors had painstakingly patched up Zack's lungs and pieced together his fragmented shoulder blade. Sephiroth was sure he'd never waited for anything so long in his life, or felt every moment so keenly as he had during those hours. And finally, when the door slid open and the doctors exited with tired but reassuring expressions, the feeling of relief was so strong that he thought it might send him to his knees. He'd gone into the room… but for one heart-stopping moment, as Zack's utterly still face came into view, he'd feared the absolute worst. And then the steady tones of the machines registered in his ears, and he saw Zack's strong breathing. And he knew that his friend would be alright.
He sank into a chair that someone had provided for him, eyes never leaving his friend, and gazed at him in awe. He was alive! Perhaps… perhaps someone had been listening to him, after all. Perhaps his prayers really had worked. Reaching over, he gently ran a hand through Zack's soft spikes, pleased to note that his skin no longer carried the chill he'd once had. Then he took Zack's hand, careful not to jar his mending shoulder, and held it between his own.
Thank you. Sephiroth glanced up at the ceiling, staring through it. Thank you… for saving my friend. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the feeling of gratitude to wash over him.
Then he returned his eyes to Zack, examining the quiet form. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, his upper arm secured to his side to prevent it from moving and tearing anything open. Additional bandages wrapped around his abdomen to cover the gash in his side, and there was a small bit of gauze around Zack's neck where the scratch had been. He looked so vulnerable laying there, especially since he was no longer dressed in the familiar SOLDIER uniform – ruined as it was, it had been taken away and replaced with loose-fitting, white pants.
Before the doctors left to give Sephiroth some time with his friend, they'd apologized, saying that their ship didn't normally carry any bacta – apparently, some kind of healing substance – on board. It was due to the captain's policies, so Zack would be left to himself to heal, unless they arrived at an appropriate port. Sephiroth had shrugged it off – the Mako in Zack's system would help him to heal faster than normal, and Sephiroth had earlier discovered a Restore among the materia locked in Masamune's hilt, which he would use once Zack had regained some strength and the bone had a chance to knit back together.
Sephiroth wished that Zack would wake. But he wasn't sure whether it was so he could properly scold him for scaring him like he had, or to wrap him in a hug and never let go. But he was told that the younger SOLDIER would likely not wake for many hours yet. So he resolved to sit and wait, and watch over him. He did not want to leave that job for anyone else, especially in as strange a situation as they were in, with people he did not fully trust. And, though he would never admit it to anyone, a part of him hoped that Zack would be reassured by his presence, and unwanted dreams kept at bay.
As he sat and watched, he thought about what had happened, and the things he'd seen – the spaceships and strange technology. He needed to find out more, figure out where they should go from here. Yori had promised the use of his ship's database, and logically, Sephiroth should be headed there now to make the most efficient use of time and be sufficiently educated about their predicament by the time Zack awoke. But he found that logic was not enough to compel him to move from his position, holding his friend's hand.
Instead, his thoughts eventually traveled back to when he'd seen Zack pinned to the wall by Jenova, and further back to before Zack had pieced his soul back together, back to when Sephiroth had been bent on destroying his last friend. This… all this was his fault. He'd been the cause of Zack's current pain, perhaps because he'd been unable to control Jenova in the crystal cave, but it was more than that, so much more than that.
If it had not been for Sephiroth's thoughts, feelings, and actions, Jenova would not have manifested in the first place, back in the Lifestream. If it had not been for his deliberate cruelty, taking delight in Zack's suffering, his friend would not have been mentally and spiritually tortured as he had been during those years in the Planet's afterlife. Years. There was no excuse for that! All Zack had ever wanted was to find a way to save Sephiroth, to bring him back to himself, and Sephiroth had given him Hell for it, every agonizing step of the way. Zack should have been at peace in the Lifestream – he deserved it after everything he'd gone through in life. But, as Sephiroth had done his part to ensure Zack's freedom had been taken in Nibelheim, he'd taken peace from him even in death.
Sephiroth gazed at Zack's pale face, and regretted everything with all his heart. He'd been personally responsible for bringing Zack to this. He could not express the remorse he felt for the fatal weakness that began everything in Nibelheim, condemning Zack… and Cloud… to years of torture at Hojo's hands.
There could not possibly be enough forgiveness in all the world – in all the galaxy – to make right what he'd done. He shouldn't even be here at this moment; he had no right to sit by Zack's side, clutching his hand, as if he could expect the SOLDIER to still call him friend when he woke.
But… what else could he do? Was it better for Sephiroth, a hated enemy, to be the first one whom Zack's gaze would fall upon when he woke? Or would it be better for a stranger – a doctor from this ship – or no one at all to be here, instead?
Sephiroth didn't like any of those choices, and it was painful that he could not even approve of his own presence. He wished that Angeal, Zack's beloved mentor, could be here instead. Why hadn't he been able to follow them through whatever method was used to bring them both to life? He was the one who should be here now, not Sephiroth.
"If only you were here, old friend," he whispered to himself, mildly surprised that he'd actually spoken aloud. "Zack needs you, now, more than anything." He did not even know how Zack would respond to him once he regained consciousness. Far better for Angeal to be here than Sephiroth.
…Are you so sure about that?
Sephiroth's head jerked up, breath catching in his throat, as his eyes flashed about the room. For just a moment, he'd thought he'd heard… but that was impossible. Angeal was dead. He could not be standing here with them.
An amused chuckle. For one who's finally learned to pray, you sure are short on faith.
"Angeal…?" Again, Sephiroth cast a searching gaze across the room. Perhaps he was going insane. Again.
The familiar voice grumbled in exasperation. Here, would this help? Suddenly, a very faint, transparent figure stepped just into Sephiroth's line of vision. Immediately, Sephiroth cast his eyes toward the image of his friend, only to have him vanish. Puzzled, he looked away, and was surprised to see him appear again, from the corner of his eye. A repeat of the experiment produced similar results; Sephiroth could not view his friend directly, else he'd disappear. He frowned.
Angeal shrugged. It's the best I can do, at the moment.
"…Are you really here?" Sephiroth asked in disbelief.
Angeal crossed his arms. I guess that depends on your definition of "here," he said, dryly. But I am talking to you, and you're talking to me, if that's what you mean.
Sephiroth glanced at him skeptically, out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if this was all in his head, similar to the way it had been when the memories of his friends had helped him defeat his darker self.
The other rolled his eyes. Would it help if I said it wasn't? Though I suppose me saying that could be in your head, too.
Sephiroth considered that the fact that Angeal could apparently hear his thoughts didn't lend much truth to his statement of the man not being in his head.
I'm a spirit, Sephiroth, of course I can hear your thoughts.
Was that how it worked? Sephiroth wasn't sure about that.
Oh, for Gaia's sake… Angeal sighed, then waved a hand. This wasn't what I came here to talk about. His gaze turned toward his former student, lying so still upon the bed.
Sephiroth followed his gaze, resting his eyes upon his injured friend. If only he could wake up now, and see his mentor standing beside him.
For a few moments, Angeal was silent. He'd always hated to see his student… his friend… like this. It was such a cruel contrast to the normally exuberant, bouncy SOLDIER. Zack the Puppy… a fond smile flitted across his lips. Then a shadow passed over his eyes, one of pain and regret, and he bowed his head. He, too, had much to atone for.
When he next spoke, Sephiroth knew that the subject was something other than that which his thoughts had momentarily been occupied with, just now.
When Zack… and you… left the Lifestream, Aerith was terrified. I've never seen her like that. All of a sudden, you were yanked away from us, and she couldn't hear or feel your presence anymore. Angeal lifted his head to observe Sephiroth, and though the General could only see him in his peripheral vision, he could tell by the man's expression and the set of his shoulders that he had been worried too. She was frantic. She thought she'd lost you two for good. That you'd just ceased to exist.
Sephiroth frowned. "What happened? How did you find us?"
He shook his head. We still don't know what happened. Aerith thinks that it might have something to do with the crystals you were messing with. But there's no way to know for sure. We're still looking into it.
It took…a long time for us to find you. We don't even know where you are… It's some place so distant that… Well, like I said, we couldn't even sense your spirits. Eventually, we discovered that if we concentrated hard enough, we could barely see you, but those moments are sporadic and unpredictable. Their spirits had been like tiny, flickering sparks, a thousand times dimmer than the faintest star in the night sky.
Sephiroth grunted. "How is it possible for you to be here, then?"
It's… difficult. Sephiroth thought he heard a strain in the man's voice. I'm not here, exactly, but rather… projecting my thoughts to you. Aerith's helping – that's why she's not here. He hesitated, struggling with whether he should really say next what he was about to. …Truthfully… I probably wouldn't be here, if it weren't for Zack. He… Well, the Lifestream reached out to him… and showed us a very thin, fragile link that we were able to use to find and reach you.
"…What do you mean, 'the Lifestream reached out to him'?" Sephiroth demanded. Angeal sighed and turned a steady gaze upon him. Sephiroth knew what he had meant. "…Zack… nearly died, didn't he." Angeal didn't need to nod the confirmation. Sephiroth found that he was squeezing Zack's hand tightly; it would have been painful had Zack been aware of it. He forced himself to let go.
He'd known Zack's condition had been serious, that he'd been in danger of slipping away… but he'd never realized just how close his friend had come to leaving for good. He bowed his head. "Forgive me, Zack." He was glad that Angeal was here. He was the person who Zack needed most; Sephiroth was certainly not worthy. He stood, about to ask that Angeal stay with the injured SOLDIER.
What are you doing? You're not leaving him, are you?
"It would be better for Zack if you stayed with him. I've been the one to cause all his pain – I'm sure he's not interested in seeing me when he wakes."
Gaia… Angeal closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, as if he was suddenly suffering from a migraine. Sit down, Sephiroth. Why do you think the boy went to all the trouble to save you from yourself, in the first place? Why do you think he came back, time and again, even though he knew you'd continue to beat him down?
Sephiroth couldn't help but flinch at Angeal's blunt words. "I-"
Don't you think he knew exactly what you'd done, better than anyone? Don't you think that he'd be painfully conscious of it, every step of the way? Do you think that mattered to him? Angeal fixed his gaze upon his friend. Zack knew what it was costing him to bring you back, but he didn't care. The way he saw it, it was the least he could do.
"…The least he could…?"
Angeal sighed and started pacing. You don't see it, do you? Zack blames himself for your fall at Nibelheim.
Sephiroth snorted. "That's ridiculous-"
He always thought that there had to have been something he could do that would have kept you sane. I think he believed that it was a failing on his part that he couldn't.
"His fault! He had nothing to do with-"
I know that! You know that. But that's not the way it is, in Zack's world.
Sephiroth frowned, turning to gaze upon his silent friend. Had Zack really blamed himself for Sephiroth's descent into madness? It didn't make any sense. Of course there was nothing Zack could have done. …Or was there? Was it possible that something Zack could have said prevented Sephiroth from going insane? From dwelling on his past, probing through the dusty tomes in the ShinRa mansion for answers that had never been the answers Sephiroth needed? Could he have kept Sephiroth from that quest, or would Sephiroth have pushed him to the side to pursue it anyway, despite all his attempts? As if from a distant memory, Sephiroth recalled harsh words delivered to his friend, and the hurt expression as he turned to leave him to his research…
Shaking his head, Sephiroth sighed. It would be all too like Zack to hold himself responsible for something that he had no control over. Whether he could have changed the course of events at that time was something no one could ever know; it was pointless to dwell upon it. Sephiroth would need to make sure Zack understood that.
"So… all the trouble Zack suffered in the Lifestream… You say it was because he was trying to make up for what he thought he failed to do at Nibelheim?" How could Zack believe that Sephiroth was worth all that? How could he know that it was even possible to bring Sephiroth back, that it was not just a futile endeavor?
Angeal nodded. In part. But also because you're his friend, Sephiroth. And Zack would never leave his friends hanging, least of all one who meant so much to him. He frowned at the General in admonishment. You, of all people, should know that.
"I…" Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly, as he tried to make sense of his thoughts and feelings. Then, after a long moment, he chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He sighed. "I suppose it defeats the point of everything for me to walk away now."
Angeal inclined his head. Unless you want his actions to be meaningless.
A quick jerk of the head. "That would be cruelty beyond measure." Sephiroth examined Zack's face, noting how peaceful the features seemed in sleep, even as he kept Angeal at the edge of his vision. "…Will you stay, Angeal?" There was the barest hint of wistfulness to the question.
His fellow SOLDIER shook his head in regret. I cannot. It takes a good deal of effort to make this connection. He reached out a heavy hand to lay upon Sephiroth's shoulder; Sephiroth felt it as a warm brush against his skin. You've always gotten along fine without me. A sad smile softened his expression. And Zack…
"Zack needs you."
No. Angeal shook his head. Zack needs you. That's what I've been trying to tell you. You're the one person he risked everything to save. …And I think you need him just as much as he needs you.
Sephiroth's eyes flickered, betraying his otherwise impassive expression.
Stepping forward, Angeal brought himself beside Zack's bed, setting a hand upon his forehead. Be strong, he whispered. Sephiroth wasn't quite sure which of them he was speaking to. Then Angeal turned to regard the General. Remember what I said, Sephiroth. His voice was firm.
Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement. "I will."
Angeal seemed satisfied. Good. He smirked. I'll give Aerith your regards.
A grunt. "You do that."
There was a moment where the two gazed at each other – Sephiroth from the corner of his eye and wishing he could just look at his friend directly – and then Angeal nodded once, and vanished.
Suddenly, the small room seemed lonely and cold, and Sephiroth found that he dearly missed the presence of his old friend. He hadn't known just how much until that moment, his absence once again revealing the void in his heart. He sighed. If there was one thing Angeal had said that was true, it was that Sephiroth did, indeed, need his younger friend. At this time, in this world, he was the only thing that held any importance to the General at all.
He just hoped that Zack could find it within his heart to forgive him. But he did not know how that would be possible when he could not even forgive himself.
Zack dreamed. But he found no rest within those dreams. He was exhausted, his spirit tired beyond measure, but he found no peace.
He was wandering without end through a desolate wasteland. The landscape was monotonous; no features rose into the dark gray sky to distinguish one point on the sharp line of the horizon from another. It was unbearably flat, and Zack had no idea where he was going. Low clouds blotted out all sky, pressing down on him. He felt small, insignificant upon a landscape so vast, expanding without end.
A frigid wind blew, and Zack struggled against it, bent over, with arms wrapped tightly around himself in a futile attempt to keep warm. His SOLDIER uniform did nothing for the chill; some part of him was surprised that there was no frost coating the frozen dirt.
He'd been traveling like this for a long time. He didn't know how long, but he'd lost most feeling in his arms and face from the cold. He wondered if he'd freeze out here.
He stumbled, fatigue nearly sending him to the ground. But he was able to recover, and stood, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. He shivered, rubbing his arms, and gazed around him, slowly pivoting in place and hoping that he might see something else out there. But there was nothing, just as there had been nothing for the longest time.
After a moment, however, the wind seemed to be dying down. He paused. It was almost too good to be true. But sure enough, the force of it lessened. It dwindled to a small breeze, then stopped altogether.
It was still cold, though.
Suddenly, he noticed a small object, drifting lazily downward from the sky. Stepping forward, he reached out, plucking it from the air. It was a large, white feather. He examined it, turning it over in his hands, running his fingers along the soft fringe. His breaths came out in short puffs of white to match its color. He wondered where it came from, and glanced upward, hoping to see its source… but there was nothing.
As suddenly as it stopped, the wind picked up in a violent gust, forcing him back a few steps. He raised an arm to protect his eyes, just as numerous, large, black feathers were sent whirling toward him, stinging his exposed face and arms. Before he realized what was happening, the wind had tugged the lone, white feather free of his grasp, sending it spiraling away with the others. His heart leapt, and he turned, reaching out for it, advancing a few steps… but it was gone.
As the mass of black feathers retreated into the distance, Zack realized that their color had leached into the sky, and he now stood upon a polished, glassy surface. Glancing down, he saw that the surface reflected a field of blue, decked with soft, feathery clouds, though above him was only darkness. The few steps he'd taken as the wind forced him back were marked as circular patterns of cracks, as if he'd been walking on thin ice. Automatically, he took another step back with the intention of getting a better view.
As his foot landed, there were a few sharp snaps, and jagged lines snaked outward from his boot, fracturing the image of his own reflection. He stared in curiosity. Expressive, violet eyes gazed back.
On impulse, he slowly crouched, reaching down toward one of the larger pieces of his reflection. But as his fingertips brushed the smooth surface, it all suddenly exploded upward with the harsh sound of shattering glass. He jerked back, letting out a startled cry as razor-edged fragments sliced into his skin on their way past. He raised both arms to shield his face.
In a moment, it was over; darkness now surrounded him… save for a single triangular piece of glass – the one he'd been reaching for – suspended before him.
As he watched, it slowly rotated. It reflected his eye. Unreadable emotions swirled within the purple depths. Then it turned, bringing the other side into view, and Zack saw a different eye. This one was a brilliant green – the green of springtime and laughter, and even as he identified whose it was, the figure turned, revealing a pink ribbon woven through brown hair and golden highlights, and retreated into a verdant meadow of wildflowers.
The shard turned again, this time showing a bright sapphire eye, lit with the glow of Mako. This eye was troubled, and Zack didn't need to see the shock of spiky blond hair to know who it was.
Another turn, and the surface revealed a flurry of white feathers and a new eye, this one a deep, midnight blue. It, too, glowed from within, gazing thoughtfully at some unknown object, before the figure turned and took to the sky.
Yet another rotation, and the fragment showed a second green eye, the pupil narrowed and catlike. It was calculating and impassive, cool, with the shine of materia. Zack gazed long into this eye, and for a moment, before the shard rotated again, it seemed that the eye flicked upward to stare into Zack's own.
The next rotation brought it back to the violet eye, above the cross of a familiar scar, stark against a tanned jaw. The eye darkened, and Zack reached out to the shard, hesitantly, mindful of what happened last time.
However, as his hand neared it, the fragment ceased its normal rotation. Instead, it slowly fell back, bringing the point of the irregular triangle upward. But there seemed something strange about it, as if Zack wasn't quite seeing the whole object correctly, so he shifted to the side. That brought more of it into view, and he saw that the shard was longer than he'd thought. Much longer, in fact, and it extended away from him, a shining slice of gleaming metal, curving gently upward to meet with a hand-guard and hilt…
Suddenly, it was a very recognizable object. It now reflected a startled violet eye, against a backdrop of churning, red flames. Zack could feel the withering heat of those flames, and his gaze jerked upward, only to see that they surrounded him. A quick glance back to the blade, and the wielder of the Masamune was abruptly there, and his green eyes were hard and unforgiving, and the Masamune was swinging in an arc straight for him.
With a frightened yelp, Zack leapt backward, the heat on his back flaring as he nearly stumbled into a column of flame. Instinctively, he reached back for his Buster Sword, the familiar weight appearing where it hadn't been just moments before, and whipped the blade out in a desperate parry to the second blow the Masamune was about to inflict.
Clang. The force of the strike traveled through the sword and up into his arms, making Zack grit his teeth. He fought to keep a firm grip on the hilt. And then Sephiroth was coming in for another strike, and another, and another. It was all Zack could do to parry. Sephiroth was too fast, too strong, and Zack was being forced back with every blow.
"Seph…!" His voice came out strangled, as he fought for breath and space, heat searing his lungs. Desperate eyes looked into frigid green ones, and saw a condescending smirk there, one that delighted in the cruelty he was inflicting.
Zack retreated, stumbling around the roiling pillar of fire to put it between him and this heartless mockery of his friend. It turned out not to be much of a barrier, however, as the sharp edge of the Masamune sliced through it; the shockwave it created put the flame out and sent Zack flying.
Zack gave a cry of pain as he landed hard on his shoulder. He barely had time to roll to his knees and deflect the blade aiming for his head. His arms trembled under the powerful strike.
Shoving upward with his own blade, Zack tucked and rolled in close, hoping to get in under Sephiroth's guard and aim a blow at his unprotected legs. But when Zack swung, Sephiroth was suddenly not there, and as he missed the intended target and presented his foe with an unguarded shoulder, he felt a line of fire open up his arm from shoulder to elbow.
Zack hastily rolled backward, using the momentum to come up onto his feet. Again, he was forced to block a rapid series of teeth-jarring strikes, his arm throbbing violently with each one.
Zack fought desperately for an opening, but it was all he could do to stay on the defensive. Finally, with a yell, he struck downward with his blade, catching Masamune and forcing it to the side, and allowing the blast from his own Limit Break to tear into his opponent.
But, again, Sephiroth was not there.
Rather than wait for him to appear, Zack dove through the nearest wall of flame and took off, dodging around and through the churning firestorm. His hair was scorched and his clothes charred, and the heat and smoke irritated his lungs and made his eyes water. He found it difficult to breathe.
As he ran, both seeking to hide from, and get the drop on, his enemy, he realized that the flames were burning something – there was something very solid that they'd been using as fuel. As he dodged around one blazing mass, it collapsed, sending sparks and splinters flying his way. A house. That's what it used to be. He vaulted over some fiery beams, and kept going, staring at the blackened shapes in growing horror.
He didn't want to look, to see everything that was burning, but he couldn't help himself. He was wandering through a maze of closely packed houses, people's homes, every last one in flames and various states of collapse. The roars deafened him, the heat scorching his skin. Thick, oily smoke turned the sky black, and red-lit cobblestones burned through his boots. It was a nightmare.
As he gazed at one pile of rubble, running past, he suddenly tripped and was sent sprawling. The Buster Sword flew from his bloody grasp, clattering to rest in the street; he barely caught himself before his face was smashed into the same stones. The heat they radiated blistered his hands.
Sitting up and yanking his hands away, he turned to look at what had caught him up. There was something in the street, not very big, but blackened beyond recognition. He stared at it, uncomprehending, for a moment. Then it dawned on him. The figure, it was… a person. A small person… a child. And laying next to it, beside what was once an outstretched arm, was a small doll. Flames licked at the fabric of its little dress.
No… Zack shook his head in horror, unable to tear his eyes away. Then he noticed other blackened shapes, human shapes, littering the street and resting where they'd fallen in flaming doorways. His eyes grew wide, and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, even as he tried to deny what he was seeing. He felt his stomach churn, and felt that he was going to be sick.
Abruptly, he scrambled to his feet, desperate to escape. He didn't want to see any more, but the horrific images flashed before his eyes, the echoes of agonized screams and cries rent his ears. No no no no no… He backpedaled. But his foot caught on something, again, twisted, and sent him falling. His back hit the unforgiving ground and the breath was knocked out of him. The shrill scrape of metal against stone revealed that the culprit had been his own sword.
He lay there for a moment, gasping, spots dancing before his eyes. He struggled to breathe, but the horror and oppressive heat made it difficult. Finally, he levered himself up, only to see something that wrapped an iron grip of fear around his heart.
The tall, intimidating form of Sephiroth stalked toward him, black against the searing light of the flames. The flickering radiance starkly illuminated his face, turned silver hair molten, and shone evilly within his long blade. Flakes of ash drifted from the darkened sky to rest, crumbling, upon steel shoulder pauldrons bathed with crimson highlights, and the long, black coat whipped around his legs. The heat from the fires created unpredictable updrafts and invisible whirlwinds that sent tiny sparks spiraling into his path. Zack could see hard, inhuman green eyes glinting out from darkened features.
Zack was frozen to the spot by those eyes. It wasn't until the madman had nearly closed the distance between them that Zack finally snapped to, reaching for his weapon.
But he was too late. Sephiroth kicked the blade away, sending it spinning to the side, far from Zack's reach. He lifted the Masamune, twisting it to bring the hilt along his jawline and the deadly point aiming for Zack's heart.
Frantically, Zack pushed himself backwards, kicking out with boots that slipped on the smooth cobblestones, away from the threat of death gleaming in those eyes. But he was prevented from getting up by the tip of the blade hovering above his chest as Sephiroth continued to advance.
"Seph… you can't… you don't want to do this!" His voice was pleading, eyes desperate as he willed Sephiroth to come to his senses.
Sephiroth smirked. "Of course I do, Zackary. You're the last thing that's been holding me back from fulfilling my true destiny."
Zack scooted away, only to be brought up short by some object behind him. He hoped it wasn't another body. Nervously, he moistened his dry lips. "Seph… I… Gaia, Seph, we're supposed to be friends!" Agony wrenched his heart. "How could you do this? All these people?"
Sephiroth shrugged lightly, unconcerned. "They were in my way. As you are now." He gazed at Zack for a moment, but there was no emotion in his eyes, save for the sadistic pleasure in what he was about to do. "At last, I will be rid of the mistake that's been dogging my footsteps for far too long." He shifted, drawing the sword back, in preparation for the final strike. "Farewell, Zackary."
"Seph, no!"
The desperate plea was cut short as the Masamune speared downward.
To say Sephiroth was startled when Zack's eyes suddenly flew open was an understatement. In an instant, violet eyes locked onto green, and even as Sephiroth thought to reach out for his friend, his name forming on his lips, Zack gave a terrified shout and scrambled away.
Limbs tangled in the bed sheets, and Zack fell heavily to the floor. Sephiroth leapt to his feet, worried, about to move around the bed to help him, but Zack was back up in an instant, desperation lending him speed. He struggled to the doorway, frantically ripping the sheets away, glancing back once to be sure of Sephiroth's position.
Get away get away get away… The words raced through his dream-fogged mind.
Zack's expression rooted Sephiroth to the spot. His friend was utterly terrified, panic shining in his eyes. Alarmed, Sephiroth could do nothing but stand there, as Zack bolted for the doorway.
As the door slid open, Zack collided with Yori Markos, arriving from the opposite direction. The panicked SOLDIER immediately tried to skirt around him, but Yori reacted quickly, gripping Zack's arms to hold him still. It should have worked, in Zack's weakened condition, but the drive to flee lent him strength, and he slammed an elbow into Yori's jaw with a sickening crack.
The blow would have shattered the jaw of a normal human, but either Yori was not normal, or Zack was still too weak. Recovering quickly and trapping both Zack's arms against his chest, Yori swung around to pin the struggling SOLDIER against the inner wall of the medical bay. It rattled the shelves bolted there, and Yori reached past him to snatch a needle from a nearby tray. As Zack attempted to shove him away, Yori positioned his thumb over the end and plunged it into Zack's neck, injecting the clear fluid. Zack's eyes went wide, and he let out a small cry of surprised pain. Then the substance took effect, and he went limp, falling into Yori's arms.
Zack's collapse brought Sephiroth out of his shock, and he hastened forward to help lift the SOLDIER back onto the bed.
"Zack." What had happened? He had never seen Zack look at him like that before. Part of his mind was still in a stunned daze, replaying the events, focusing on the terror in Zack's eyes. To have had that fear directed at him… It hurt in a way that he had never experienced before.
"-iroth. Sephiroth." A set of fingers snapped in front of his face, and he looked up, annoyed. He realized he must have been staring at Zack for the past few moments.
"What?" The word came out sharper than he intended.
"What happened? He was not supposed to wake for several more hours."
Sephiroth's brow creased in a frown, and he glanced back down at his unconscious friend. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know what had caused Zack to wake so early, let alone what had set him off like that. He hated to think that it had merely been the sight of Sephiroth that had terrified him so, but what else could it be? Was Zack so used to Sephiroth being that insane demon that it was an automatic reaction for him now?
What had Sephiroth done to him, during all those years?
Oh, Zack… Pain flashed through Sephiroth's eyes. What had he done to their friendship, the trust between them? What if it had been irrevocably damaged? Sephiroth couldn't bear the thought of it.
He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on it. Zack had clearly not been fully awake or aware of his surroundings; perhaps things would be better once he finally awoke. Sephiroth could only hope that would be the case.
He examined his friend again. The wounds had been torn open, blood starting to leach through the loosened bandages around his shoulder and side. Zack wore a pained expression; though unconscious, he was obviously aware of the discomfort on some level.
"His injuries need to be tended to again. Do you have something to reduce the pain?" Sephiroth's voice was impassive, betraying none of his feelings. He lifted his gaze to their host.
A flash of irritation shone in Yori's eyes for an instant, upon realizing that, once again, Sephiroth would not answer his question. "Painkillers?" It could have been Sephiroth's imagination, but he thought he caught a quick sneer of contempt pass across Yori's face, before vanishing. "…I suppose something could be arranged." He twisted and tapped a Call button set into the wall. "The medics will take care of it."
Sephiroth gazed intently at Yori, before nodding. His host was still something of a puzzle that he would need to figure out, before long.
After a moment, a bustle of noise preceded the doctor and nurse entering the small room. Sephiroth explained the situation to them, as Yori looked on. Then, after some deliberation, he chose to leave Zack with them. He needed to do some research, after all, and while Yori was here, he could show Sephiroth where the database access point was located.
Besides, it was quite clear from Zack that he was not wanted here. And Sephiroth did not want to chance a repeat of this incident when Zack next awoke, risking further injury to the young SOLDIER.
Angeal had been wrong. The truth in Zack's frightened violet eyes had stabbed Sephiroth to the core.
Sephiroth was the last person in the world that Zack needed.
to be continued…