And here we have Chapter 4!

I finished this a LOT quicker than I thought I would. I wrote all but the first three lines at home after I finished finals, and home isn't really a great environment for thinking and writing. Family can be a bitch sometimes… But, amazingly I managed to finish it.

The chapter is actually a lot longer than I thought it would be. I was very surprised once I go to a certain point and realized that I had exceeded 4000 words, then once I finished I was amazed to find my word count—prior to editing—to be 6789(XD); my only hope is that I didn't bog down on detail. Skiba, who always proofreads my work, seemed to find it acceptable, so I guess the length isn't too bad, and now that things are actually beginning to happen, the chapters will likely be longer, but hopefully they will be consistent.

My hope for this chapter was to create a building up or sorts, the beginning of something between Zack and Seph. As always, I welcome tips and advice on things I could improve on. Enjoy, peeps!

Pairing(s): (WE ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING FOR THIS! OMG!) Mentions of Kunsel/Zack

Warning(s): SLASH, Solo (thaaaaat's right, folks. The story is beginning to earn its rating!)

Don't own it. Let's get on with this sheet!

He had never departed from a mission so thoroughly shaken.

While he had been taught to be prepared for anything, Zack would have been lying if he said he'd had even slightest inkling of what would transpire on his last mission. It seemed as if everything that could have possibly gone wrong had, and now a small, quiet village—the home of his mentor—lay engulfed in flames, all because of a SOLDIER's desertion.

It felt oddly surreal; even as he looked out and over the burning ruins, some part of him, in the deep recesses of his mind, refused to believe it was real and that it was all some fucked up dream. But… it wasn't. He clearly recalled the way his body trembled with the ground as the bombs laid waste to Banora. He could still feel the heat on his skin from the flames as they consumed all they touched. He could still feel his heartbeat in his ears, the sick turning in his stomach. This was no dream. It was an all too painful reality.

Even as the ruined village fell from view, the image was burned into his mind; it certainly wasn't the only one, and he knew it would not fade for a long time, if at all.

It wasn't supposed to end this way. He'd been so confident that the mission would be a success, that he'd be able to return to Midgar with the two SOLDIER Firsts in tow, and that everything would be all right. A bit overly idealistic—bordering on childish, really—but Zack had always been an optimist. He'd had faith in his abilities… he'd had faith in Angeal.

He turned his gaze away from the outside—now mostly a wide expanse of ocean—and down to his hands. He caught sight of the feather that lay in his palm, nearly invisible next to the black of his glove, and his thoughts went to auburn-haired First that it had come from. Anger stirred in his gut, and his hand tightened into a fist, crushing the delicate barbs in his grip. It had been his fault.

"We are… monsters."

Those words rang clear in his mind, repeating like a cryptic mantra in an infinite loop, spoken only moments before a massive black wing burst from the SOLDIER's back. Zack had been left to watch dumbstruck as the man spoke once more before he disappeared into the clear sky, leaving nothing but a shower of dark feathers in his wake.

"We have neither dreams nor honor."

As quickly as it had come, the anger melted away, and his heart clenched. A lurid scene flashed behind his eyes and with it, the sick feeling returned all the stronger. He once again saw his mentor standing in the center of his own home, standing over the body of his mother, who Zack had spoken to not long before. He recalled the anguish, the fury, the sense of utter betrayal he had felt in that moment and they assaulted him once again, all at once and none the weaker.

"What the hell did you do, Angeal?"

It was strange that his knuckles still hurt from when he struck the man. He had said nothing, just allowed Zack to slam him, to strike him as if he were taking a punishment he thought he deserved. But the older man hadn't said a word, had not tried to explain himself or even attempt to justify what he had done, and it only fueled Zack's rage. He spoke only after Zack punched him in his jaw hard enough to send him to the ground, but the First's words had done nothing but bring about more questions than answers.

But nothing, nothing had compared to the pain of watching Angeal turn his back, watching him walk away. He had tried to give chase, but Genesis had brought him down and taunted him with verses from that gods-damned book. The hurt had ignited into rage at the auburn-haired man then, and he had scrambled to his feet to face him. He'd had every intention of taking him on despite his obvious superiority; if he could not bring the man back peacefully, he'd do so by force, or kill the man before he could do more damage… though Zack had known in the back of his mind that the mission would end in failure, that he would not be bringing the SOLDIERs back.

"I don't see Sephiroth today, but… are you game?"

And then it clicked.

Sephiroth.

The anger came back, only this time it was aimed at the silver-haired First. The man had refused the mission—a right given to a First Class SOLDIER—but he had assigned Zack to the mission in his place. What had he been thinking?

A part of him blamed the man for the mission's failure. Sephiroth had known the two men, had known how powerful they were. Surely he knew that Zack, a mere Second Class, would have been no match for them, that he was likely to fail. It was his fault! It was his fault that the mission failed, it was his fault that two powerful SOLDIERs were allowed to escape unscathed, it was his fault that Zack's mentor was gone… and it was his fault that Zack had to bear this horrendous pain.

He was dimly aware that he could feel his nails biting into his palm through the glove. He could feel the tendons being pulled taut and they hurt, but Zack didn't bother with it. The pain—both physical and emotional—was deadened by this new rage, perhaps now because there was someone else to blame… even though deep inside he still blamed himself. A million questions raced through his mind, all of them so fast that he could barely comprehend them—all of them except one.

Why did he choose me…?

"Those two were Sephiroth's only friends."

His fist relaxed of its own accord. The anger faded just slightly, and his mind was just a bit clearer. His only friends… And he remembered what Tseng had told him, why Sephiroth had not wanted the mission, and why he chose Zack to go in his place. The SOLDIER had not wanted to fight the ones he cared about, had not wanted to potentially face killing them… He honestly couldn't blame the man; hell, he might have done the same thing if put into such a situation.

"I understand now why Sephiroth chose you."

Perhaps Sephiroth had believed in him… the same way Zack had believed. Perhaps he too had had faith that Zack would return with the two men alive. Under any other circumstance, to know that the great hero Sephiroth had put his faith in him would have made him uncontrollably giddy, but as it stood it only served to make him bitter with himself. He worried what the First would think of him because of his failure, and while anyone else be terrified to think that Sephiroth would think badly of them, it bothered Zack a great deal… possibly more than it should have.

o0o

Zack spent the rest of the flight back to Midgar deep in thought, emotions darting between anger, shame, sadness and back again. When his feet touched the solid steel of the helipad, he suddenly felt drained, as if all of the energy had been sucked out of him and into the cold air around him. He took a breath, almost relieved to be back in the city, back at Shinra, but the feeling was fleeting at best. He stood in place for a few moments more, watched Tseng leave without a word, and he finally trudged his way into the building and straight to his apartment.

o0o

Once at his apartment, he went straight into his bedroom, removing all but his pants and collapsing onto his bed. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, mind still a jarring kaleidoscope of words, images, and emotions. He wasn't sure what time it was when he finally turned his gaze from above to the window out into the city. His thoughts so consumed him that he wasn't even aware of it when he fell asleep.

o0o

Zack didn't feel much better when he woke the next morning. The thoughts that had plagued him the day before had continued their assault well into the night, making his sleep restless, something that didn't happen often. Drowsily, he reached his hand to the bedside table to locate his handset. It took him a moment to remember that it wasn't there, and his hand automatically went to his pocket, fishing for the device. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the time before letting it fall onto the table, then got up and disappeared into the bathroom to shower.

o0o

Sometime later, Zack found himself on his couch staring at his bare feet. Not a thought seemed to pass through his head, and he found a strange comfort in that. He would have to begin his mission report and have it submitted before too long, but he really did not want to relive that fantastic failure for as long as he could possibly put it off. So he just sat back on his couch and turned on the television; while Midgar cable absolutely sucked, it provided some welcome background noise, making it easier to keep himself distracted for a time.

He passively flicked through channels for a while, before he settled on something and just let the TV drone on. After a while, however, restlessness set in, and he felt a need to move but no real desire to leave his apartment. After a bit of shifting and fidgeting, he started doing squats in a random spot in his living room. With his restlessness, it became harder to keep his mind clear, and he fought to allow it to wander but keep it in check at the same time. He worked out until his legs began to cramp before standing to check the time and get something to eat.

There was a brief respite before he was back on the living room floor, the electronic droning still filling the room. He started with pushups, mind blank and full of sweet white noise. Crunches came next once his arms began to stiffen; he wasn't sure just how long it had been or how long he would continue, but he was sure he'd keep going until his body locked up and couldn't continue. While not the healthiest choice to make, Zack couldn't bring himself to care; he needed to be doing something, he needed the distraction.

However, the fog that had shrouded his mind suddenly dissipated when his ears caught the name of a certain SOLDIER.

He stopped abruptly and just slowly sat up, peering at the screen. It was a news story on one of the later missions in Wutai, a mission he had been involved in.

Sephiroth.

And it all came flooding back. Every thought, every word, every image he had tried so hard to ignore invaded his mind so suddenly and all at once that he was almost stunned. As it was, he was left staring at the screen unseeing, listening to the droning of the reporter but not really hearing it. He was only aware that the story seemed to go on for too long, and each time the silver-haired man's name came forth, that knot that was beginning to settle in his belly would wind up just a little bit tighter. He could have turned the television off—he probably should have.

He didn't.

Each time the name met his ears, the mission played back in his head, the anger at the man returned, and then it would be quashed in all of a split second… only for it all to start again the next moment he heard that name.

Sephiroth.

There was no point in putting off that report now.

o0o

Zack didn't make it a habit of getting his reports done early by any means. He tended to do very well on his assignments, but when it came time to do post-mission reports, he often got distracted and required a good reprimand from Angeal before he got his ass in gear. But this time was vastly different. He was not distracted by random surges of energy and desires to go out into the city or into the training rooms to "train." He wasn't fidgeting on his couch or on his bed while he tried to work. He wasn't distracted by thoughts of what he'd do once his report was finished. Most of all, there was no Angeal to tell him to focus on his task.

A huff of frustration left his lips for what seemed to be the hundredth time, and he ran a hand over his face. There was little reason for the report to be that hard to complete. He remembered everything with startling clarity, and could easily recount everything from arrival to departure. He had been doing it in his head for two days already, over and over as it refused to leave him. Normally it would be easy to remedy his problem; all he'd need to do is go find a spot and do squats or something to burn off the excess energy. As it was, he had no excess energy to burn. He didn't fidget in place—hell, he felt no real desire to leave his spot.

But whenever he made any progress on his report, once his train of thought was on track and he'd shut out everything around him, it would take only a few minutes before his thoughts were abruptly derailed; all because of him. Since the mission in Wutai, Zack had begun to think about the man more that he had before, but since leaving Banora, the universe seemed hell-bent on keeping the silver haired man in his thoughts. It was becoming increasingly frustrating, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Zack tried once more to focus his attention. He imagined Angeal's voice chastising him for not focusing on his work, telling him that if he hoped to make First, he had to zero in on what was important. But it was far too easy to transition from that thought to the image of Angeal as he stood over his mother, then as he turned his back and walked away. From then on, the mission played back—no important memory faded out in the least. He let his head fall forward a bit and let his eyes close, focusing.

Focus. Focus. Focus…

Within moments he was back to work, relaying everything important that transpired during the mission. It all passed through his head so fast, kept replaying again and again, so he was able to explain everything in the necessary detail. However, his train of thought would inevitably meet the same fate it had each time prior. He was thoroughly engaged, hardly aware of anything else, then it took only the briefest flash of silver behind his eyes and it all came crashing down.

His mind's new focus was the silver-haired First. He had been to blame for Zack being in this predicament in the first place; now the man wouldn't even allow him to complete the necessary mission report that was due in only a few more days. It may not have been entirely reasonable for Zack to blame the man for his own thought process, but he was becoming much too frustrated. His body was wound so tight with tension that he couldn't alleviate; his mind was on near overdrive, a mess of thoughts and emotions. All of it built up and just seemed to stress him all the more—what was worse was that Zack had essentially exhausted nearly all of his available methods of stress relief.

His options were fairly limited as it was. As a SOLIDER Second that strived to attain First Class, Zack couldn't very well afford to risk tarnishing his record. It was why he never took up Kunsel on those offers to go out drinking or fooling around at night clubs. He couldn't afford to be caught in such settings underage; it wouldn't look good at all.

His mind strayed back to his early times in Shinra, and the many alternatives he'd had when he was a cadet. Being surrounded by many pubescent young men had proved to be both odd and enlightening. They'd all had the same problems, though some were more than willing to risk admonition and go out to the many bars and clubs that Midgar had to offer. Kunsel was one of them, but he was more artful about it and had managed to avoid trouble. It was easy to drown in booze and women when there was so much of it around them.

Zack however, found that it was much easier to simply relieve his stress with other fellow cadets. Before leaving Gongaga, Zack hadn't really thought much about his sexuality. He'd been attracted to women; he still was, more than willing to flirt with a pretty girl. However, once he came to Midgar… he found himself looking at members of his own sex quite frequently as well.

He shivered when he thought back to the first time he'd ever kissed a man. His first kiss had been with a girl in Gongaga who he'd had a crush on; he had been too young though—back then—to really understand attraction. But in Shinra he'd learned to understand quite quickly, and what could be deemed as his first real kiss had been thoroughly invigorating. Naturally, he had been a bit awkward with more intimate sexual acts… the more he thought about it, the more he found himself reliving the first time he'd gone beyond kissing and light touching.

At some point, his documents had been pushed to the side, abandoned, while his pants had somehow been undone. His fingers were wrapped firmly around himself, stroking in a slow rhythm, the calluses on his hand providing a much desired friction. His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed, and he let his mind wander.

He thought back to the first time he and Kunsel had kissed. While he almost never saw his fellow Second's face when anywhere in the building—other than the barracks or their apartments—the man was actually rather attractive. The two of them had done quite a bit together, and while officially they were just good friends, they had been more than willing to give each other much needed release. Kissing the man had been an experience. Kunsel had sneaked alcohol into the building and had managed to convince Zack to drink a little with him. That "little" had ended with them both plastered and lying on Kunsel's couch with their tongues in each other's mouths.

His back arched and his pace quickened, a shudder going down his spine as he delved further into his memory. In their stupor, they had acted with a bit more abandon. Kissing became hungry exploration of each other's bodies. They all but tore their shirts in their eagerness to expose new skin. Lips were replaced by teeth and tongues, grinding against each other in a tangle of limbs and frantic movement. Hands moved in a desperate frenzy, both intending to touch every inch of the other before the night was done.

He trembled when he remembered the way Kunsel moaned; he had been quite vocal, but it may have been from the alcohol that flooded his system. Similar to his current situation, Zack hadn't the slightest idea of when or how they managed to undo each other's pants. All he remembered was that in a matter of moments, they both had hands wrapped around each other's cocks, stroking without any real rhythm. They had only wanted release; they said no words, merely losing themselves in a haze of booze and pleasure.

His body trembled and writhed, his strokes coming faster, and as his grip on himself tightened, his grip on reality loosened. He panted shakily through parted lips, and he imagined that it wasn't his hand but Kunsel's stroking him. His eyes opened, glazed with lust brought on by tension and a need to release; his head tilted down and he watched his hand stoke up and down over his flesh. He had done the same thing that night, watching in a strange fascination as both his and Kunsel's hands moved, and the man had moaned yet again. Just the memory of the sound sent a jolt through his groin that made him gasp and buck into his hand.

He could feel it; gods, he could feel it! He could feel the knot in his gut tighten and tighten with every stroke. His muscles trembled and his vision blurred and he moved with abandon, uncaring of restraint. He needed this, more than anything before now. His breath grew shallow and that knot tightened all the more, but he was close, so close. He could feel his orgasm grow closer, his body closer to just unraveling, and for just a moment he could soon revel in the short-lived but sweet oblivion that would follow.

His thoughts became nonexistent, his senses trained on nothing but his own ecstasy. He saw nothing, heard only his own breathing and pounding heart. He could feel that knot inside him begin to unravel—

—And then came that gods-damn flash of silver.

His mind turned so quickly and unexpectedly that it tore a gasp from his lips. His eyes flew open and he sat up so abruptly that his head swam for just a moment. Once again, Zack saw the SOLDIER First's face, and all of the sensations faded away. His muscles relaxed into their former state of tension, and he just sat there, hand still wrapped around himself, panting softly and unable to completely grasp what had just happened. He stared into space, and after a moment his hand fell away from his half-erect cock.

When he managed to collect himself, he uttered a soft curse and made an exasperated noise. He just could not get a break. He put his elbows on his knees and let his head fall forward into his hands; a loud sigh left him, followed by a grumble.

"Guy can't even let me jack off in peace…" he muttered.

By then his arousal had nearly faded, and he was left again in that annoying state of tension. There was no way he would be able to concentrate at all on that report, and he felt drained but thoroughly unsatisfied. With nothing better to do, Zack tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, intending to stow away in the bathroom and take a very long shower.

o0o

For the next few days, the same problem persisted. Zack struggled to finish his report, and whenever he grew distracted, he would attempt to do something to clear his head so he could work again. Lather, rinse, repeat; his week was reduced to little more that an odd combination of work and various interferences.

He would still attempt to alleviate his stress with release whenever his tension reached a level where he could no longer take it. However, it ended the same way each time: he would come painfully close only to be taunted by the sight of the silver-haired SOLDIER in his mind.

Granted, the man was very attractive, and could have likely been an aid in his efforts of stress relief… if it didn't feel so utterly wrong. Sephiroth was a superior officer and was a good friend to his mentor. While there were likely many other operatives and cadets that could gladly get their jollies by thinking of the First in such a perverted fashion, the thought made Zack feel almost… dirty. He had failed that man, after all; Sephiroth had put a level of trust in him, believed that he could bring those men back, and he had failed. There was little right with the thought of having fantasies about him after that, not to mention all of the lectures on morality he had gotten from Angeal. He was sure there was one somewhere concerning the sexual fantasizing of one's superior officer…

But the gods seemed intent on keeping the man in his thoughts no matter the context, and so Zack was left to deal with it as best he could.

On the night before his deadline, Zack finally completed the report and could not have been happier. His stress level, while still a bit high, went down significantly with the knowledge that his duties had been fully attended to. All he had to do was make certain that the report was submitted the next day.

He did absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. The week had drained him, and he was perfectly content with just lazing on the couch; it was his reward to himself, since he just didn't have the energy for much else. He let his mind wander, thinking of what he'd probably do once his report was submitted. Perhaps he'd hang with Kunsel, train for a few hours in the gym, maybe fool around in the VR room. Once he got that damn thing out of the way, he was determined to do anything to distract himself. Anything.

Out of nowhere—it seemed to be happening quite a lot as of late—that familiar and frustrating face flashed across his mind, and he made a discontent noise. Perhaps if he saw the man, talked to him, maybe it would put his mind at ease. He could only hope…

o0o

A few days later saw Zack standing in front of a closed office door. He didn't really venture into the office floors all that often; there was little business that needed a SOLDIER's presence that took place here. In fact, he wasn't even there for anything official. He honestly didn't know why he was there in the first place… except that he had a strange but nearly desperate need to talk to the man that was on the other side.

He briefly wondered what the man thought of his report. He knew that because Sephiroth had requested he be sent on the mission, he had to review the report before it was sent to the Director. He was sure his report was satisfactory—probably better—but he felt that there was so much left out that needed to be known. Angeal and Genesis had been Sephiroth's friends, and he wanted—no, he needed—to tell him… something.

After a few more moments of nearly pacing in front of the door, Zack finally stopped and raised his fist, intent on knocking. He hesitated. What would he say to the man once he got his attention? Would Sephiroth even want to talk to him? Would he even be able to talk? Something about the man left him unable to speak up, something he never had a problem with before. He wasn't intimidated, though he knew full well that the SOLDIER could kill him with a flick of the wrist. There was just something he couldn't place, ever since he saw the man face to face in Wutai; whatever it was, it made him pause, rethink.

With a sigh he let his hand drop back to his side and trudged away from the office door feeling a bit defeated. This was going to be a bit harder than he thought.

o0o

It turned out to be a lot harder for Zack to knock on that door. Every few days, he found himself back in front of Sephiroth's office, and each time, he tried to bring himself to just knock and be done with it. Whatever need he had to talk with the man hadn't gone away; rather, it festered like an untreated wound and taunted him mercilessly. Whenever it became too much, he'd head back to the office floor with every intention of entering that office. But each time, he hesitated, and he was left anxiously pacing the hall in hopes of gathering the nerve to get the man's attention.

However, Zack could never seem to get his nerve back. After a few minutes of pacing, he'd try and fail at one last attempt before leaving dejected.

It didn't help that his mind continued to be plagued with thoughts of the SOLDIER; what was worse still was that they had begun to grow from suggestive to almost lewd in nature, leaving him unnerved and—much to his near horror—vaguely turned on. He hoped that the thoughts manifested simply because of his stress and that they would fade once he could finally see him, talk to him. Something told him, however, that it was simply wishful thinking. It was likely that the problem was much deeper than simply being unable to talk with the man, but he clung to that hope on the off chance that the situation would eventually remedy itself.

So he continued to go to the man's office hopeful and leaving discouraged, only to try again a few days later. He had no idea that the man could actually hear him pacing outside his door until he stood in front of it one day, preparing to either knock or back out, and the door suddenly opened to reveal a tall man clad in leather, silver hair framing his face.

Zack jumped back a bit in surprise, and looked up into the man's face. Sephiroth stood towering before him, looking as he always did, calm and collected. There also seemed to be just the slightest bit of annoyance etched in his features. Normally, Zack was accustomed to annoying others and tended to brush it off. However, he could help but feel a bit… ashamed by the idea that he had been the cause of the man's agitation.

"Your pacing is becoming distracting. Do you have business with me?" Zack felt an odd stir at the sound of his voice.

"U-uhh yea-yes… sir!" He sputtered a bit, still startled from the man's sudden appearance.

Wordlessly, Sephiroth turned his back and strode back to his desk, but the door had been left open, a clear invitation for Zack to enter. He took the invitation and stepped into the office, the door closing quietly behind him. The silver haired man took his place behind his desk and motioned for Zack to be seated in the nearby chair. He sat down obediently and after a moment came to a realization: he had no idea what to say, where to start. He'd had this nearly overwhelming need to talk to Sephiroth, and when he finally made it into the man's office, his mind went blank.

He sat awkwardly for a while, sneaking glances at the man as he worked, trying to find some way to get words out. Sephiroth appeared as if he had forgotten his presence, but he knew otherwise; the man was fully aware of him yet didn't seem to want to bother with him—at least until he got to the root of why he was here. Restlessness set in after a while, and he was left shifting in place occasionally as he continued to get his thoughts in order. Zack struggled to stay still, not wanting to risk disturbing the man more than he already had, but the more he tried to keep still, the more his body seemed to want to move. This situation was not turning out very good; he was restless, he felt awkward, and he was sure that any moment Sephiroth would tire of his presence and he would be sent away before he could actually speak.

He hadn't realized just how fidgety he had become until Sephiroth at last spoke.

"Would you kindly stop?"

His voice had taken Zack by surprise, and it took him a moment to register what he'd said. "Stop what?" he asked.

"You have been moving about incessantly for the past eighteen and one-half minutes. It is quite distracting."

"O-oh…"

There was a sigh from the man, and Zack looked to see that he had set aside whatever documents he was working on and had turned his attention onto him. He resisted the urge to shiver when those eyes settled on him; up until recently, the man had not had this effect on him. He had never feel unnerved or intimidated but the man's calculating stare—then again, he'd never felt so oddly uncomfortable in the man's presence either. He almost broke eye contact before Sephiroth spoke again.

"You have obviously come to speak with me on a certain matter."

Zack didn't know what this man had done to make him so ineloquent, but something about him was keeping Zack from focusing. He stumbled over his words, trying to find a suitable response and get to the matter he had come to address.

"Speak up or leave, Fair," Sephiroth said after a few moments. His tone was not biting, though he could detect just a trace of agitation. "You have wasted enough of my time as it."

Despite the lack of severity in his tone, Zack knew that Sephiroth meant what he said. He would have to say something lest the man truly tire of him and make him go, and it was very doubtful that the man would be as accommodating next time around. He had to think. There had to be something he could say, something. He heard Sephiroth sigh in the slightest exasperation and he lost control of his words then.

"I'm sorry," he blurted suddenly.

Sephiroth's full attention was on him then; his expression was mostly unreadable, but Zack could have almost sworn that he saw a look of confusion pass over his features.

All the words came out then. Everything he had needed to say came spilling from his lips without much thought; it needed to come out. He had held it in for much too long, and it had caused him way too much grief. Months of frustration, confusion, sadness, anger, and stress seeped into his words.

Zack told him everything. The graves of Genesis's parents, Angeal standing over his mother's body, how he struck the man in his rage, the wing, the words, the pain, the fire, he told him everything. And all the while he continued to apologize; he apologized for failing the mission, for falling short of his expectations, for not bringing the men back alive, for not bringing them back at all. He could hear the emotion creeping into his voice, could feel a lump form in his throat that he did everything he could to keep down, but it didn't stop him.

He had no idea that Sephiroth took in every last word. The man sat silent, gazing at him with his full attention; had he been aware, Zack would have seen the confusion just beginning to show on his face, would have seen the way the man's eyes seemed to darken and how the tension in his body seemed to grow with every passing moment.

His voice had begun to crack when Sephiroth finally spoke again.

"That is enough, Fair."

Zack's brain finally snapped to attention, and he looked up. The First's head was tilted down, his face veiled by silver bangs; he could see the tension nearly pouring off of the man and couldn't suppress a shiver at the sight.

"…S-sir?" he ventured after one very tense moment.

"You have said enough, Fair. You are dismissed."

"But, sir—"

"Leave."

Zack flinched back as if he'd been struck. He could hear the strain in Sephiroth's voice, and it nearly scared him. He had never seen the silver-haired man as anything other than calm and collected. To see him nearly struggling to maintain himself was quite unnerving; however, he couldn't dwell on it for too long. The First clearly wanted him gone and while he wanted to question the man further, he knew well enough to do as the man said else he would wind up on the wrong end of his wrath.

So Zack wordlessly stood and made for the door, sparing one last glance at his superior. His face was still downcast, but Zack could see his face more clearly, could see the man's eyes shut and the tension on his brow. Another shiver worked along his spine, but he ignored it, leaving the man's office and shutting the door behind him.

Despite the uncomfortable encounter, Zack returned to his apartment feeling as if an immense weight had been lifted from him. His heart felt light, his head was clear, and when he shut his door he sighed, feeling a slight upward tug of his lips. He felt immeasurably better after his… vent, he supposed, though he still felt a lingering remorse for stressing his superior officer. However, he was not going to let him plague him that night; he wanted this feeling of relief to continue for as long as could.

Zack retreated to his bedroom, removing most of his clothing as he went. He flopped boneless onto his bed with a heaving sigh; the bed actually felt inviting in his good mood, a far cry from the lumpy, uncomfortable mess he saw it as on any other day. Slowly, his body sank into the mattress, his eyes falling shut just briefly, opening again as an image flashed behind his eyelids, another shiver passing through him. When his eyes opened again, they were just slightly glazed over as the thoughts he had tried so hard to repress were allowed to run wild. He let himself revel in them as they grew from mere flashes into images, and then into sequences. His body stirred and he shuddered, finally allowing himself to let go.

o0o

Weeks passed at a snail's pace. With the war in Wutai officially over, there seemed to be little chance of Zack being sent on any further missions. Extermination missions were often seen to by beginning Thirds and even those seemed to be in short supply. Despite the lack in manpower, there was just no real conflict anymore.

Zack was back to his normal restless routine in a matter of a couple of days after his encounter with Sephiroth. He trained, worked out, and occasionally joined Kunsel messing around in the building or out in the city. It was as if very little had changed at all despite the very obvious absence of his mentor, which he still could not allow himself to become accustomed to; he still held the belief that Angeal would return one day.

However, he had begun to notice a very clear change in himself. More often than not Zack's thoughts seemed to stray to his superior and as the weeks passed he had simply given up resisting them. He had felt something for one fleeting moment before he had left the man's office, and while he had yet to decipher what it was, he could not deny that he couldn't get the man out of his head for very long. At first, it didn't bother him; he was sure he was not the only one on whom the First could make such a powerful impression. However, as time went by, he noticed a… change in the way he thought of the man, and that was when he began to get unnerved.

It had concerned him his thoughts grew consistently suggestive. He had thought that after his talking to the man that the strange images would fade, and while they did for a time, they only returned all the more vivid. It left him confused and unlike the last time, Zack could not blame it on the superior officer; most of all, he had no one he could really talk to about it.

Briefly, his thoughts strayed to Angeal, and he wondered if this problem would have even risen were it not for his absence. He still hoped that the man would return, but he had begun to harbor some doubts of that happening anytime soon. A sigh left his lips at the thought; the whole thing would have been so much easier to accept if he just knew why the man had gone. Angeal didn't do anything without good reason—Zack just wished he knew what that reason was.

"Where did you go…?"

Suddenly, he was jerked from his thoughts by his handset going off in his pocket. He went for it and had it at his ear in a matter of a moment.

"Zack here."

"It's been a while, Zack."