Zack was fed up and just plain tired.
It was a strange and lonely existence on the road with Sephiroth, Zack thought as he listened to the nightly monologue. Here in a small wooded area, camping yet again, with quiet animal noises all around, he felt so distant from the real world. So isolated. He loved people, chatting nonsense with friends, drinking, playing sports—heck, even his SOLDIER training routines. This was worse than Wutai. At least in Wutai he'd been deployed with other SOLDIERs and Shin-Ra troops. He was still young, seventeen going on eighteen, and though he prided himself on being responsible, he still craved excitement, boisterous company, and fun. But now, he and Sephiroth only had one another for company.
But that wasn't quite accurate, was it? They also had a severed head in a jar.
A severed head that seemed to be regrowing a body. The lump at the base of Angeal's neck was a little larger every day. Zack didn't like to think about it, but nonetheless he checked on Angeal often. The lump was now rounder and spreading, almost like a floppy, vein-covered bag or an upside down mushroom cap, with two evenly spaced, horizontal creases stretching across the front.
He shivered and turned away.
To distract himself, Zack swiped through the messages on their latest burner phone—the third in less than three weeks. Had it really been so long since they'd picked their first up in that little town of Jerome? Their lifestyle of driving, camping, and occasionally checking in at tiny, out of the way settlements was wearing on him, and listening to Sephiroth ramble only increased his tension and sense of weariness.
Nonetheless, he generally tried to keep half an ear to the conversations Sephiroth held with Angeal. It allowed Zack to gage his companion's stability. On occasion, he wondered if Sephiroth was still really, truly sane. He was obsessed, certainly, as well as defensive and driven. There was often a flicker of mania or distress in his eyes, particularly when he was talking to Angeal. So far he still seemed to have a serviceable grip on reality, but Zack couldn't help but worry.
Sephiroth often spoke to Angeal of finding Genesis and then destroying Shin-Ra, which wasn't a particularly alarming topic. Zack also fantasized about razing Shin-Ra to the ground and slaughtering all its top executive royalty and shogun wannabes.
No, the idea of destroying Shin-Ra and murdering the Planet's de facto rulers didn't bother Zack in the slightest. But Sephiroth's plans for what came after? Those concerned him.
Sephiroth had begun talking about creating "a new, Planet-wide order."
Granted, assuming he succeeded in taking down Shin-Ra, some new system of government would need to rise just to maintain basic services like running water, sewer, power, communications, and roads. Not that the outlying roads were well maintained now, but without any centralized government they'd rapidly disintegrate into gravel. There were a plethora of government services that people took for granted, and Shin-Ra management was, if not superb, then at least adequate for continued functionality.
Zack assumed that different regions would beef up their local governments, that villages and townships would band together into larger organizations, but history had shown time and again that nations and city-states, no matter how large or small, usually bickered and warred with one another. Sephiroth spoke of forcing them to cooperate instead of fighting.
The words were pretty, but the meaning underneath sure sounded a lot like what President Shin-Ra had spent his own life trying to accomplish. Yoking the world under one harness—Shin-Ra's. Or Sephiroth's, it now seemed.
Zack fidgeted and drummed his fingers on the phone's screen. Sephiroth hadn't yet proposed himself as the new ruler. Not to Angeal, at least. He must know that Angeal, were he able, would smack him down for such conceit. Zack wondered if Sephiroth would change his tune once Angeal could again speak for himself.
Tonight, blessedly, there was no talk of setting up a worldwide government. Sephiroth instead reminisced about better times. He did that several nights a week, Zack had noticed, particularly about pleasant shared experiences, and even some of the stunts they'd pulled when they were younger.
This time he spoke of one incident in particular, when Genesis had sneaked into a theater and altered their standard Loveless scripts to suit his own biases. This naturally led to talk about finding Genesis, and potential locales where he might be hiding. Sephiroth said in a quiet and bizarrely conversational tone: "...and I think we should try Costa del Sol soon. I know Genesis liked the sunny weather there. You always did, too. If nothing else, it will make a nice change of pace for Zack."
Zack looked up from the phone at his name, but knew the words weren't addressed to him. While he'd enjoyed hearing about Genesis's silly lark, in fact he was just so damned tired. Tired of camping, tired of running. Tired of bathing in cold streams or whatever fresh water they could find, and tired of burying their waste.
He was tired of monitoring Sephiroth, looking for red flags regarding his mental state. Tired of watching over Angeal's head and worrying about how its new tissues were developing. Or whether its unnatural life would finally fail and it would die and start rotting. Zack wasn't sure which would be worse.
Zack ached to get up and do squats, run in place, some kind of physical exercise to burn off his twitchy energy. He desperately wanted a hot shower, and to eat some decent food, and to sleep in a comfortable bed. He wanted his old friends! Hells, he even wanted to go back to the days of the Wutai War. He'd roughed it there, just like now, but at least he'd had a variety of comrades his own age, and steady duties, and activities to keep busy.
He wanted things to be freaking normal, and he knew that he was being ridiculous—his life might never be normal again.
He and Sephiroth never even made a campfire, out of concern that someone might see it and wonder about the squatters in the woods. They relied solely on their enhanced vision to see at night, and bundled up to take care of little things like getting cold. They ate cold food straight from the containers most days, didn't even bother with a tent unless they thought it might rain, and even then not often. "It takes too much precious time to put away in the morning," Sephiroth had said. "We have to keep moving. We can't afford to burn daylight." The truck's cab was good enough most nights they wanted cover, and the best option in cases of a downpour. Sleeping upright against a steering wheel was uncomfortable.
Zack was fed up and just plain tired.
Maybe Sephiroth really understood Zack needed a break. Maybe he didn't and was just babbling at Angeal's head. Zack couldn't tell the difference. In exasperation with the disaster his life had become, he snapped, "Sephiroth, he's in a coma! You know he won't answer you. Why do you keep proposing options to him like that?"
Sephiroth, who had been extolling the virtues of Costa del Sol's climate and beaches, broke off mid-speech. He regarded Zack with sadness in his eyes. Pain and guilt. "Have you never heard of the theory that comatose patients can, on some level, hear their friends and loved ones talking to them? Many medical experts have theorized that it can provide comfort to them."
Zack felt his mouth hang open. That had never occurred to him.
Sephiroth added softly, "Even if it doesn't help them, the doctors say it can't hurt. Why should Angeal be any different?"
Zack dropped his face into his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, trying not to cry. "I never... I mean, oh, I don't know what I mean." But he did. He spent so much time thinking of Angeal's head as a thing that he'd all but dehumanized it. Even though he knew it was regenerating... And there he went again, calling Angeal's head "it."
Angeal's brain was in there. His mind and core personality. Angeal the person was in that jar of nutrient fluid. He was still as human as...as...
Alien, Zack's memories reminded him. Alien, part alien, impossibly alive, with grotesque abilities, regenerating...
Well, Angeal was as human as Sephiroth and Genesis, at any rate. And that was good enough, Zack told himself.
"I often forget how young you are," Sephiroth said. "You've been handling everything so well."
Zack shook his head, brushing his face against the palms that still hid it. "I'm not, I'm really not."
"It will be fine, Zack."
It wouldn't be fine. It couldn't be. Zack knew it. Sephiroth must know it. Even if Angeal's head regenerated a human body, would it ever truly be him again? The memories should still be there, in his brain, but the emotions, the personality? Zack wasn't sure how much a total personality relied on hormones and other bodily functions, but memories and processing were in the brain. It was still Angeal.
It was still Angeal.
Zack took a deep, shuddering breath and got control over himself. He dropped his hands and looked up, not feeling normal, but no longer on the edge of a breakdown, either.
Sephiroth resumed his monologue to his comatose friend. "If we're going to Costa or anywhere else, really, I suppose I'll have to dye my hair. I should have done it much sooner. Yes, I know. I agree, Angeal. It's far too obvious as it is. Do you have any suggestions for a good color?"
Zack uttered a breathless laugh and added his two bits to the conversation. Another participant's voice made it less...sad. "How about bright red, like Reno's hair?"
"Like Reno's?" Sephiroth regarded him with curiosity. "The Turk?"
"He must dye it. That color can't possibly be natural! I wonder what brand of hair coloring he uses?"
"Interesting," Sephiroth commented ambiguously. With a slight smile, he looked from Zack back to Angeal's container. "What do you think?" he asked the comatose head. "Would I look better with vivid red hair like Reno, or an auburn shade like Genesis?"
Of course, Angeal did not respond.