Never Lost
By: Phoenix Dayze
Zack/Sephiroth
PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII and make no profit from this fic.

Part Three

Sephiroth shifted in his chair, glad for once to be trapped behind his desk with a mound of never-ending paper work. If he'd had to coach drills today… He let out a heavy sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose with two artistically slim fingers. Over the last few weeks, he had formed a tentative friendship with the brash, personable Private Fair. Zack. He reminded himself. The younger man hated it when Sephiroth addressed him formally as their stations dictated they should, constantly correcting Sephiroth should he ever call him by anything other than his first name. Zack.

Zackary Fair was different than anyone Sephiroth had ever met, respectfully rebellious, and annoyingly quick-witted. He treated Sephiroth like an equal, not in rank, but as a person, as though, despite the sword, and the 'General', when all that was shoved aside, Sephiroth was normal, a regular guy who slept and ate and smiled—if Zack had anything to do with it—someone who needed to loosen up and have fun on occasion because he deserved it.

Zack seemed to spend most of his time during drills joking and fooling around, ribbing Sephiroth whenever he could, and he usually got away with little more than a scowl and a weary reprimand, because Sephiroth, as well as the other cadets, knew that Zack was already better than what they could ever hope to make him. Zack challenged Sephiroth's views on the world, sharing his own opinions freely, which were fairly mature for fourteen, if slightly skewed.

Zack believed in strength, not just of body, but of soul, he believed that if you wanted something bad enough, if you worked damn hard to get it, dreams would, inevitable, come true, but only if you had faith. He craved peace, and justice, and freedom, somehow mingling his desires for a better world, his solemn views on warfare and brutality, and his eager passion for the field into a stunning culmination of purposeful hope and fierce duty. Sephiroth fervently prayed that the young man never got disillusioned, because even though the world he wanted, the world he saw in his future would never exist, the beauty of such simple trust that Zack bore with pride was more than just refreshing. It was a fragrant lure, tugging at Sephiroth's heart, pulling him closer and closer, calling him in.

Sephiroth buried his face in his hands. While he enjoyed having a friend, someone who truly saw him as a man, not as a weapon or something to be feared, or worse, revered, and while he cherished the time they spent together, the truth was, Sephiroth was a man. He had thoughts and needs just like everyone else. His body reacted when stimulated, and bled when cut. No one else seemed to see this, to understand such a simple truth...except Zack. The problem was, Zack didn't see that Sephiroth's body was reacting to him.

Sometimes suicide did seem like an option, despite what people told you. The scissors looked awfully inviting... He was just contemplating whether or not a Shin-Ra issue staple to the eye would kill him, when the door to his office banged open with suspicious fervor. Sephiroth braced himself as he put the stapler back on the desk.

"Hey, Seph!" Zack bounced in, a cheery smile plastered across his stupid face. He pranced over to the desk and pounced nimbly up onto the polished surface, narrowly avoiding sending Sephiroth's hard-done papers flying. He grinned at the deathglare Sephiroth laid on him, and leaned back on his hands. "I have a secret." He stated calmly.

Sephiroth stared at the boy as if he'd grown another head. He'd interrupted his work for this? Surely not. Zack knew that Sephiroth hated paperwork with a passion, so Sephiroth knew that Zack would not be bothering him about something so trivial and insignificant as one of his multitude of 'secrets'. But Zack's gaze was that of lazy patience, amusement and mystery dancing about the corners of his mouth. Sephiroth supposed he could have been wrong before.

He gave Zack another long-suffering look, before he sighed, and put down his pen. "What do you want, Private?"

Zack frowned at the formal title, but brushed it off. "I said, I have a secret." He paused, then added, "Your royal Generalship."

Sephiroth sat in silence for a moment, then, "That's nice, Zackary," and went back to his papers.

Zack scooped the papers out from under his nose, leaving Sephiroth perilously close to writing on his desk. "Hey! You're not being very companionable!"

Sephiroth scowled. "That's because I'm working!" He drummed his fingers on the desk. "This better not be about that stick again..."

Zack grinned. "Nah! But that was a good guess! Glad to know you finally admit to being a..."

Standing, Sephiroth clamped a hand over Zack's mouth, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Not one more word, Private." He hissed. "Another peep out of you on that subject, and I swear to Shiva that I will show you what a stick up the ass really feels like!"

Zack was stone silent as Sephiroth removed his hand. They stood at an impasse for a few minutes, waiting each other out. When Sephiroth was satisfied that Zack was, at least temporarily, staid, he settled himself back into his chair and picked up his pen. Putting it to the page, Sephiroth scrawled...a very long, undignified line as Zack let out a purposeful, very innocent-sounding "Peep!".

Sephiroth slammed his pen down on the desk, and peering up at Zack's blinking eyes, Sephiroth stuck his hands under Zack's thigh and flipped him solidly off the desk. The hard impact that reached his ears, along with the unchecked whine of pain brought a satisfied smile to Sephiroth's lips. This was the most relaxed he'd been all day. Apparently he'd just needed to vent his frustrations on some pathetic animal who didn't know any better than to bug him.

Zack slowly pulled himself up, and grumbling to himself, and rubbing his ass, he walked around the desk to stand next to Sephiroth's chair. And then, he just stood there...staring.

Sephiroth tried to get back to work, but those huge, violet eyes were distracting as Zack made them as hopeful and unassuming as possible. He turned in his chair and looked at the boy. "What now?"

"You swore. You can't back out now." Zack said solemnly.

Sephiroth blinked. "Huh?"

Zack continued in the same serious tone. "You swore to Shiva that you'd put your stick up my ass if I peeped." He nodded for emphasis. "Well...I peeped, so get to it, General!"

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly and sighed. It was just one of those days. "Zack..." he began very calmly, sweetly, "if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to finish what I started the last time you bothered me in here. And then...I'm going to shove them up you nose." He growled.

"But you swore." Zack interjected. "Your stick. My ass. Start shoving!"

Sephiroth let the sweet tone go...and the calm. "Zack!" He yelled. "I'm not going to shove my stick up your ass! So you can..." Sephiroth trailed off, Zack's dubious double entendre suddenly registering. A furious blush seeped up his neck and onto his cheeks, and his mouth snapped shut with a teeth-rattling clack.

Zack petted Sephiroth's hair consolingly with one hand as he fished around in his pocket. After a moment, he pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, which he handed to the still silent Sephiroth. Then he turned and left as quickly as he'd come, shutting the door behind him.

Sephiroth stared at the paper in his hand. On the front, in Zack's questionable handwriting, were the words. I have a secret. Shaking his head at Zack's somewhat charming persistence, Sephiroth unfolded the paper. Inside it simply read, I can make you blush.

tbc...