Monstrosity (Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Zack)

[SexualOddity]

CW:(Very) Abusive employer, some violence (not graphic), bereavement, terminal illness (only mentions within the main part of the fic but discussed further in the epilogues), swearing

 

Disclaimer: Since this fic will make mention of the fact that these characters were once child soldiers, now is probably a good time to disclaim that I haven’t featured any characters below the age of 18 in any of my FFVII stories on the forum to date. My fics are set at a later point in their careers when they are adults. (This one will probably have a 16 year old — Cloud — at the end, but he won’t be doing anything remotely kinky.)

 

Spoilers: Yes, spoilers throughout for Crisis Core, the main game (FFVII) and various other installments of the FFVII compilation.

 

For people who don’t know the fandom: I got ya back peeps. I’m learning that this is pretty much everyone who reads my fics lol, so I’ll be keeping you in mind throughout. Most of the time all the information will be in the story, but I might occasionally need to drop some context in an author’s note to avoid labouring the point for anyone who’s played the game.

 

Other sneezers/sneeze causes that are not prevalent enough to warrant a tag (I’ll update this as I go along):

Zack: Photic, Strong scents (various)

Kunsel (m): Photic

 

This is a sequel, but my aim is for it to stand alone, so don’t feel like you need to read the fist part. If you do want some extra context, the first part is here: Humanity (If you do read it… be gentle lol. It was my first story after a looooong break and I like to think my ability to write has improved a lot since then - mostly thanks to some amazing support from @solitaire-au, @Sequioa and @dw124)

 

This is beta read by @solitaire-au, but honestly the term beta reader does not do justice to her involvement in this story. I definitely bit off more than I could chew with the allergy testing sections of this fic and she has been incredibly patient and generous with her extensive knowledge. Basically, if ever you find yourself enjoying how detailed or realistic the science/medical stuff is, that will be because of Solitaire, and any time you find yourself having to suspend disbelief that will be because of me stressing out and not being able to make her awesome suggestions work.

 

—

 

The waiting was always the hardest part.

 

When Zack picked up requests to test Professor Hojo’s monsters, he didn’t think twice about bouncing across to the Virtual Reality room, sword in hand.  Later, once he was fighting the things, there was no time to think at all, beyond where to strike and how to dodge incoming teeth and claws.

 

It was the moments in between that were the killer, when simulations were loading and doors were swooshing shut, when the headstrong curiosity that had driven Zack’s steps had faded, and the focused energy of the test had still to begin.  It was in those moments, when all the other noise had cleared away, that Zack was left with that persistent question, deep in his gut.

 

What the hell am I doing?

 

He had an answer, one that was good enough to keep bringing him back to Hojo’s simulations, but it had never satisfied that little voice in his ear.   Honestly, all of the reasons why Zack shouldn’t have engaged Hojo were exactly the reasons why he did.

 

As the Head of ShinRa’s Science department, part of Hojo’s job was to create monsters.  Many of them ended up in the VR programs that ShinRa used to train SOLDIERs like Zack.  Others were somehow produced physically in the lab and they would be used in real combat.

 

Zack earned his role as monster tester by accident. Two years earlier, in a fit of bull-headed competitiveness, he had fought and defeated Hojo’s most powerful sim, the one that Hojo and his team had considered unbeatable.  Since then, Hojo had sent a constant stream of creatures Zack’s way, each one stronger, more clever, more deadly than the last.  Every time Zack beat another of his creations, Hojo scurried away like a rodent in the slums. Some days or weeks later, he would pop back into Zack’s inbox with a fresh program. They were often specifically designed to exploit weaknesses he’d observed in Zack’s combat data, intended to cut through Zack’s defences and strike the decisive blow.

 

Hojo was serious in that endeavour, or at least that was the impression Zack got from him.  He didn’t think Hojo wanted to hurt him per se, although he did seem to take a perverse delight in reminding Zack that injuries sustained in the SOLDIER VR room would inflict real damage.  What Hojo actually wanted, what he talked endlessly about, was proving his genius by creating the ultimate monster, the one with the right combination of abilities to overpower Zack.  Anything that happened to Zack in the pursuit of that goal would be acceptable collateral damage.

 

There were probably enough red flags there that Zack should have written off the whole arrangement as bad news and never opened another email from Hojo. Neither logic nor restraint had ever been his strong suit, though, and there was something he found irresistible about being stretched to work at the very limit of his capability.  Frankly, Hojo’s deadly certainty about his defeat only fed Zack’s pathological determination to win out.

 

It was a messed up relationship, Zack knew that, and he was never more aware of it than when thick transparent doors were sliding shut, sealing him in.  Usually, it was the door to the VR room on the SOLDIER floor, and Zack was waiting for the walls and floor to shimmer into one of Hojo’s simulations.  Today, it was a different door — the door to a containment pod up in the Science lab — and Zack was waiting to have an allergy attack.

 

Hojo was designing allergy meds for Zack to use in combat. This was a baseline test, apparently, to gather the data that Hojo needed for the project. In the back of the pod, along the floor, were a row of dull steel vents. Zack eyed them as he entered.   He’d definitely have rather been fighting monsters.

 

He closed and opened his fists around his crutches, the way he would ordinarily have done with his sword, trying to find a better grip.  He didn’t have his sword though — hell, he didn’t have two functioning legs — and the biological enhancement that bolstered his combat abilities was about to start working against him.

 

There was the swish of an internal door, and Hojo strode into the lab. His footsteps slowed when his eyes came to rest on Zack in the containment pod. He stood straighter, rising out of his typical hunch, and he bowed his head in an appraising nod.

 

When he tapped on a microphone on the lapel of his lab coat, his words were transmitted into the pod through speakers in its lid. Hojo’s voice was slow and silky, but there was an edge to it that made the hairs on the back of Zack’s arm stand on end.

 

“Well, well…  This is most interesting.” Hojo kept his head low and cocked, examining Zack as he stepped closer. “I had thought this entirely a waste of my time and resources.  No one told me they were sending you.”

 

Zack’s nose prickled uncomfortably.  He already felt like sneezing.  That wasn’t a great start, all things considered.

 

“So many of my experiments defeated at your hands, and now look at you…” The soles of Hojo’s shoes tapped a slow rhythm on the metal floor as he crept closer to the pod.  His long black hair was bound up in his ponytail as always, but the thin bangs on either side of his face swished with the movement.   

 

Leaning his weight on his right leg, Zack drew himself straighter, lifting his chin. He gripped the handles of his crutches, hating them, and hating his reliance on them.

 

Hojo whirled, stretching a arm to point at an assistant working at a computer behind him.  “You there, bring up the mission report from his latest assignment.  I would like to know what did this to him.”

 

There wouldn’t be any mission report on the system, not yet.  The assistant tapped at her mouse, but Zack couldn’t properly hear her through the glass.

 

“It was a resistance unit in Wutai,” Zack supplied.

 

“Humans!” Hojo cried, his voice rising to a manic shriek.

 

“Well, uh…” Zack began, feeling the need to defend himself.  “I was having a pretty bad allergy attack at the time. They threw smoke grenades at us.”

 

“Yes, yes, and that is fascinating.”  The energy and pace of Hojo’s voice dropped so fast it made Zack blink.  The professor peered past the thick glass wall, studying Zack through his round-rimmed glasses.  “We knew allergies were contra-indicated of course, but it appears you slipped through our defences.”

 

“So, it’s true, then?” His interest piqued, Zack leant sideways and ducked his head to meet Hojo’s stare. “The SOLDIER enhancements pump up allergies as well as combat abilities?”

 

“Well certainly, theoretically.  It was always a possibility, given the effect on the immune response.” Hojo stalked around the pod, the side of his lip curling upwards in an unsettling mixture of a snarl and a smile.  “But I confess, this is beyond even my expectations. After all of the samples that you have overcome, to see you rendered so helpless...”

 

Zack stiffened, determined not to respond. He gnawed at the skin on the inside of his lip.

 

Hojo’s palms thumped the glass. He leaned in closer, like a squashed fly on a windshield. He was gaunt, but perhaps, before Zack knew him, he had once been larger. He seemed to have too much skin for his face. It hung in empty folds at his chin and his cheeks. Beneath his glasses, his eyes glinted, and, for the briefest of seconds, Zack thought he was about to toss one of his monsters into the fucking pod.  Heartbeat quickening, Zack steeled himself, ready to throw down his crutches and raise his fists.  He should never have left his sword outside.

 

He grimaced.  He needed to get it together.  Hojo was a ShinRa Scientist.  Zack worked in the ShinRa military.  He was getting some meds for his new and ridiculous allergies, and that was all there was to it.  No need to be so damn jumpy.  Hojo had always kinda rubbed him up the wrong way.

 

Zack took a breath, trying to collect himself and take control of the conversation.  “So… uh… you need to run some tests?  To make some meds for me?”  The itching in his nose was intensifying. He squirmed behind the glass, sniffling and swallowing and blinking back tears, not wanting to sneeze with so many eyes on him.  That was stupid, really, given what they were all there for.

 

Hojo wrapped one arm across his chest. He tucked it under his other elbow, moving his free hand in looping gestures. “Hmmm, yes. I think would rather like to see this reaction.  I will admit, I am intrigued to learn more about the cause of your defeat.”

 

Not able to contain it any longer, Zack took a sharp breath and curled in towards his arm.  “Hh’KSHHh!”

 

Hojo slammed the bottom of his fist against the chamber.  “You are already having a reaction. “That is highly inconvenient.”

 

Zack flinched, a reflex response to the pivot in Hojo’s demeanour.  The Professor’s eyes bulged behind his glasses, wide and crazed.  Spit flecked his lips as they pulled back over his clenched teeth.

 

Zack sniffled and cleared his throat, wanting to weigh his words carefully, though a growing sense of injustice was clamouring for his attention.  “Look, Professor… I’m being held in a building full of smoke I’m allergic to, and you wouldn’t let me take any meds.”

 

Another one of Hojo’s assistants moved closer to him, a man this time. His voice carried through Hojo’s microphone into the pod.  “We could delay, give him an hour to recover.  It would make for more reliable data…”

 

“I’m not gonna recover!” Zack said, the volume of his voice rising more than he’d intended.  “Not unless you let me take something.” Still congested from his allergy attacks that morning, he drew a breath through his mouth and continued, softer.  “I could go change, wash my hair, and then, maybe, I’d get on top of it, but it’d only start up again as soon as I walked back through the barracks.”

 

Zack waited while they deliberated.  They had to know it was pointless.  Since Zack’s abrupt and disastrous discovery of his allergy, smoke grenades had been the equipment of choice across the entire anti-ShinRa movement.  Those SOLDIERs who hadn’t been involved in an attack directly had been crammed into training sessions where ShinRa pumped grenade gas at them and had them fight.  The upshot of all of that was that Zack was now allergic to a good proportion of the ShinRa Headquarters.  That was unfortunate, because until Hojo came up with some meds he could take in combat, he was under orders not to leave the damn place.

 

He turned his back, grateful, at least, that the the distraction of the Science team gave him the opportunity to sneeze in peace.  He glanced at the lights in the lid of the pod, blinking as he let the nagging tickle build this time, unrestrained.

 

“Hhh’USHHuh!  HeHh’USHHHuh!  HTt’USHHh!”

 

By the time Zack straightened, still wriggling his nose, Hojo was nowhere to be seen, and the female assistant was approaching the pod with a quick and deliberate strut. She was mid-height, with warm brown skin and black hair in a braided ponytail, set high on her head. She was young, maybe early or mid twenties, but that was ShinRa’s style. They found the people they wanted early and trained them within the organisation.

 

“Operative Fair,” she said, as the door swung open.

 

Zack jerked up in surprise, which was weird, since all she’d said was his name.

 

“Usually, no one uses names in here…” he said, only realising it was true as the words left his mouth. To Hojo he was always ‘a SOLDIER member’, a ‘sample’ or, very frequently, just ‘you’.

 

Her gaze dropped just briefly to her neat little black ankle boots.

 

Interesting. She knew that Hojo wouldn’t have approved.

 

She made a quick recovery, her demeanour business-like when she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

 

Before she could answer, Zack smiled at her, relaxing his weight against the crutches. “If I do get to have a name,” he said, opting for a tone of casual ease, “I’ll think I’ll just go with ‘Zack’, if that’s all the same to you.”

 

The assistant regarded him, her neck and shoulders stiff and her arms pinned tightly against her sides. “Zack.”

 

“At your service,” Zack grinned, and he flashed her a wink.

 

Shit. That was a mistake. He’d decided to stop doing that sort of thing.

 

She dropped her head again though, angling her eyes to the metal floor. A burgundy blush touched the very tops of her high cheekbones. Zack smirked.

 

Smirking was probably a bad idea too, on reflection.

 

“We’re going to have get a handle on your allergic reaction before we take a baseline,” she said. Her tone was clipped and professional, but she still wasn’t meeting Zack’s eye.

 

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, ‘cause I’ve been like this ever since I got back to the building. This is pretty mild compared to when I first showed up.”

 

“Then we have a good starting point.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, but there wasn’t so much as a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. He wrinkled his nose with a sniff. “Okay, I’ll bite.” He tilted his head with a frown. “What’re you planning to do?”

 

“You can use our safety shower to clean yourself off,” she said, with an air of self-assurance, “and if you give me your size, I’ll get you a clean, First Class uniform.”

 

Zack laughed. “And that’s…” He gave a couple of harsh sniffs, trying to hold off a sneeze. “That’s coming from the SOLDIER floor, is it?”

 

She hesitated, her lips parted. He was specifically trying not to notice her lips, but they happened to be a dusky pink, and plump even in the absence of make-up.

 

“Air’s full of smoke down there,” he continued, still sniffling. “They’re doing mass training for dealing with the grenades. Given how thick it is, I’m pretty sure they’re setting the things off in the actual sessions.”

 

She gave a curt nod. “I can arrange to have a uniform bagged.”

 

“Oh.” He stopped short. She made it sound a lot easier than he’d expected. “Alright, then.” He clamped his lips shut and blinked.  Apparently impatient with waiting, the itch in his nose had recruited his sinuses and the roof of his mouth to join in the game. He groaned and tried to turn away. It wasn’t an easy task with the two of them cramped in the containment pod, and his crutches were unhelpful as usual. “S’hohh!…sorry…hh…Ehh…HEHk’TCHUH! hh’EKkTCHUH! HaHhhr’RISHHhhUh!” He gave an ugly sniff, and blinked away tears, wondering if he could get at the tissues in his pocket without falling over.

 

“Bless you,” she said, gently.

 

“Uh, yeah, thanks. ‘Scuse me.”

 

“You know, it would have been helpful to know about your reaction before the test.”

 

Zack sighed, and shifted his weight between the crutches. “Yeah, okay sorry.” He shrugged and sniffed again. “Haven’t exactly done this before and nobody asked.”

 

The assistant hummed, her long lashes drawing nearer as her umber eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. “Well,” she said. “No one here has done it before either.”

 

He lifted his eyebrows, watching her with interest. “Some office politics there?”

 

She turned on the spot, and her boots clipped against the metal walkway.

 

“Let’s get you washed up.”

 

Edited January 20 by SexualOddity

[solitaire-au]

❤️ I loved being able to help with this.

If Humanity is anything to gauge this by, Monstrosity is going to be just as hot, if not more so! 🔥🥵💥😍🎆🥰

And that’s a great pic of Zack you chose for your profile.

[SexualOddity]

Thank you! For the comment, and especially for the enormous amount of help.

 

The pic is from his character profile from the next instalment of the remake. Everything looks so pretty in PS5 graphics!

[funbusej]

Oooh, this is getting interesting!!  Hojo is effing nuts, if that is how his personality is in the game, you aced it!!

[SexualOddity]

Oh yeah, absolute psycho 😅 Thank you ☺️

[SexualOddity]

Since most of Zack’s work with Hojo was completed in the SOLDIER VR room and relayed to the Professor digitally, he never usually had much cause to wander the corridors of the Science department. (There was one incident with a very attractive control panel button and a bunch of escaped monsters, but that whole thing was probably better forgotten.)

 

Like the rest of ShinRa HQ, Floor 67 was constructed of dull steel and lit by mako. Mako was the heart of ShinRa’s operations and it was the source of their political and economic power. By pumping mako into the homes of the masses, ShinRa had created a new world, with convenience and opportunity for advancement on a scale that had never previously been imagined. New worlds needed defending though, and that ShinRa achieved by pumping that selfsame mako into the bodies of their special forces operatives.

 

In the jungle village where Zack grew up, mako power had been something of a luxury. Most huts had at least one lamp, but ShinRa charged by usage, so they tended to be reserved for long winter nights. In the muggy summers, work and leisure were organised around the rise and fall of the sun. Zack had preferred the sunlight, back then. Mako light was dimmer, and its green glow cast a sickly hue. That suited Zack just fine these days, since his enhanced vision made his eyes sensitive, but he did wonder how the scientists managed their close, focused work in the muted light.

 

“Here we are,” Hojo’s assistant announced as the pair of them rounded a corner.

 

Zack sniffled and wrinkled his nose, increasingly conscious of the scent of mako. Somehow, it was pricking at his sinuses. Mako smelled like earth, and wood, and damp moss, like an early morning jungle hike. It was intense, but it had never made him want to sneeze before.

 

The assistant led him to a recess near the middle of the corridor, where a thin silver pipe ran from floor to ceiling. At its top was a extended arm with a shower head, and halfway up was what looked like a water fountain with taps on either side.

 

“Your shower’s in the…Hh! In the… h’ISHHhEW! Hhh’Hh…H’hISHHhEW! Hih’ISHhUH!” Zack planted his crutches against the floor, focusing on keeping his balance as he sneezed. He sniffed hard, and bent his head towards his shoulder to cough. “It’s in the corridor,” he said, his voice a little scratchy. “Why’s it in the corridor?”

 

The assistant’s lip twitched in apparent amusement. “It’s not for ordinary washing.”

 

Zack followed her gaze to a thick metal door nearby.  There were chemical hazard symbols and a ‘No Entry’ sign plastered on its front. In fact, they were on all four of the doors that opened out on to the hallway.

 

“The workers in these labs are in regular contact with mako,” she continued. “They need quick access to washing facilities in case of a chemical spill.” She nodded towards the little basin and tap. “That fountain is the eye and face wash station.”

 

Zack snorted. “Well, we wouldn’t-hih! Sniff! We wouldn’t want anyone getting mako in their eyes,” he joked, knowing that his own eyes glowed with the stuff.

 

“We wouldn’t.” She leaned closer with the word, looking up at him, stern and serious. Those heart-shaped lips tightened. “Mako is dangerous in it’s pure form. High enough exposure can render a person catatonic, even kill them.”

 

Zack wrenched away, twisting his body as he drove sneezes into his shoulder. “ISCHH! HAHt’ISCHH!” He sniffed. “Yeah, okay, I g-hh! Sniff! I get it.”

 

It wasn’t entirely true, though. Zack had a hard time thinking of mako as a chemical at all. Like all SOLDIERs, he had been mako-enhanced within a week of his enlistment, laid unconscious on an operating table in this very department. On that day, ShinRa had piped mako into the room to power the equipment that monitored him at the same time as they had piped mako into his vein via IV drip. Now, the stuff was a part of who he was. It had changed him forever. It had altered his appearance. It had drastically improved his physical capabilities. It had made him a SOLDIER instead of some country hick with wild dreams beyond his reach.

 

Zack sniffed and crinkled his nose, peering up at the shower. “Hh… HhpP’TCHH!”

 

The assistant studied him, her forehead crumpling between her eyebrows.

 

Zack sniffed again. “Um. Okay, so, how do I...?”

 

“Probably best to keep your clothes on,” she said, flatly.

 

“Right, right.” Zack cleared his throat, eying the equipment as if it were a jump that he needed to clear. There was a pull-down lever next to the shower head and a little circular drain on the floor. He drummed his fingers against the handles of his crutches as he turned the problem over in his mind. He could ditch the right crutch to pull the lever, but he wasn’t sure how he’d hold up with the one remaining crutch on a wet floor, particularly if he couldn’t get a grip on all the sneezing.

 

“It’s probably not a great idea for you to use it on your own while you’re recovering from your injuries,” the assistant said, as if she’d been reading his mind. “I’ll find a junior lab tech to help you operate it and they can supervise in case you lose your footing.”

 

Zack’s eyes flicked down to his useless left leg, and his lips twisted in a sulky pout.  More babysitting. He’d only just escaped his last enforced supervision — a twenty-four hour stint following his sedation for surgery.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut as a prickling sensation wormed more deeply into his sinuses. Bending over, he nuzzled his forearm, attempting to rub away the itch.

 

“Um…” He stopped short, frowning at the floor before he lifted his head. “You never gave me your name.”

 

She returned his gaze, her expression blank and impassive. “Is that necessary?”

 

“Oh,” said Zack, pulling back. “Uh… I guess… I guess n’hh!” He turned his head with a huff of frustration. Lifting his eyes towards the ceiling, he let his head drift back and his mouth fall open. “Hehh… Ah’Hh… HeHhh’HAHTCHew! HEH’HAHTCHYEW! Ugh.” He sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

 

The assistant scanned the length of Zack’s body. “Are you getting worse?”

 

He wrinkled his nose cautiously, wondering whether he needed another sneeze. “I dunno,” he said, with another sniff.

 

Her brow furrowed and her eyes searched his face. “It’s been this corridor in particular…” she mused. She turned to check behind her, but aside from the two of them and the shower, the hallway was empty. “I’m not sure what we could—”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Zack interrupted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I am a little worried that I might not feel better after all this, though. You got a plan for that too?”

 

She drew herself up stiff, and Zack thought he might have seen a flash of resentment in her eyes before the return of her professional composure. “That will be Hojo’s call,” she said, brusquely. Her shoulders dropped by millimetres and her voice lightened a touch when she continued. “My suggestion would be that we provide you with anti-histamines and keep you in a sealed room overnight. That should allow us to commence testing in the morning.”

 

“Overnight?” he repeated, blinking.

 

Her carefully-plucked eyebrows drew inward and her gaze softened.

 

Shit.

 

It looked like pity.

 

Zack felt vaguely sick.

 

“The bottom line is: we need valid data for comparison. Any allergen exposure you have outside of the lab is not quantifiable, and it will throw off our results. If the headquarters are a problem for you, we’ll need to create an allergen-free environment. That way, when we test you, we can be sure that it’s just the compounds that we’ve introduced that you’re reacting to.”

 

Zack floundered, struggling to follow her words, but when she dipped her chin her eyes were piercing.

 

“You should prepare yourself for a long process,” she said. Her words were slow and grave.

 

“Oh.” Zack answered, uselessly. He tried to sniff, but he was getting too congested for it to be effective. Enduring the throb in his hip, he stooped and managed to wipe his nose on the back of his arm.

 

“I’ll go look into a uniform for you, and someone to help out while you wash.”

 

“Right…” he murmured. Everything felt suddenly unfamiliar: the reinforced doorways, the hazardous chemical signage, the weird corridor shower. Down the hallway, one of the doors clicked open, and two scientists emerged, conversing in technical language that Zack didn’t understand.

 

“Right,” he repeated. “Okay, then.”

 

She had already gone.

 

—

 

She didn’t exactly rush back with the uniform.  By the time she returned, Zack had been provided with a foldable chair and a box of tissues, and he’d been shut in a metal cell that had definitely been intended for a monster. Short columns of scored lines crisscrossed the doors and floor, giving the suggestion of claws scrabbling to make an escape, and, while there was no toilet or bed, there was what looked like a trough — probably provided for food and water. Strange noises echoed from the pod next door. Zack had been trying not to wonder what was making them.

 

“Could have told me that your shower was cold,” he muttered, when the assistant returned. Water ran from his hair, soaking the towel he had wrapped around his shoulders.

 

The assistant stared at him, clearly unimpressed. “It’s not that cold.”

 

Zack spluttered in objection. “Well, it’s not warm!” Not wanting to put the tissues down on his wet lap, he shuffled on his seat, using one hand to pull the towel tighter.

 

“Wow,” she said, not entirely under her breath, as she held out a First Class uniform in a sealed bag. “Defenders of the modern world.”

 

He recognised the phrase from one of ShinRa’s promotional videos, but he wasn’t about to feel incriminated by it. Most of the stuff in those things was bullshit to begin with. He tossed a bundle of tissues into the trashcan by his feet, freeing up a hand to take the uniform and tuck it under his elbow. He shivered and clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

 

“How’re you feeling?” she said, her eyes following his movements.

 

“Well, my nose is running,” he groused. “Might be more to do with the fact that I’m freezing my ass off.”

 

“Any sneezing? Itching? Since your shower?”

 

“Some.” He tilted his right boot and examined the puddle forming underneath. “Of both.”

 

“Okay,” she said, regarding him with thin lips and narrowed eyes. “I’ll give you some privacy. You get changed, and we can re-assess in another twenty minutes.”

 

Zack jerked up. “Oh. Uh.” He hesitated. “Wait.”

 

She stopped mid-turn, eyebrows raised.

 

“Um… I don’t think I can… uh…” He looked down at his sodden clothes, aghast. When he’d put them on in Wutai, someone had had to help him with everything below the waist, and that was when the uniform was dry.

 

“Oh,” the assistant said, and the note of realisation in her voice stole his air like a punch in the gut.

 

“Actually, I’m gonna handle it,” he said, hurriedly. His gaze dropped to the floor. “Can you just get me a pair of scissors?”

 

There was silence for a moment before the assistant spoke. “I’ll get someone to help.”

 

“Okay,” Zack murmured. Though it tugged at his hip, he hunched over, staring at the water between his boots. He didn’t raise his head until the door had shut with a swoosh and a clink.

 

 

—

 

Even with someone to help, it took more than ten minutes to change the bottom half of his clothes. The trousers of his uniform were ripstop nylon, and they were fucking heavy when they were wet. They clung to his skin, and the lab tech had to yank at them to make them shift. Training his eyes on one of the deeper gauges in the wall, Zack split his attention between keeping his balance and filing the encounter under a growing list of experiences that he would never speak of again. By the time the guy had left, though, the itch that had been nagging Zack all morning had quieted to a whisper. It fluttered somewhere deep in his sinuses. He still felt primed, like looking at a light might make him sneeze forever, but he had the sense that any further reaction would require some sort of trigger.

 

He probably didn’t need his gloves, or his harness and pauldrons, he thought, grimly. He wasn’t likely to see combat for a while. He felt weird without them though, so he put them on anyway. He was just stretching his fingers into his second glove, when there was a knock on the door.

 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he called through the metal.

 

“Feeling any better?” the assistant asked as the door slid open.

 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, trying to ease some of the stiffness out of his left leg while he balanced on his right. “Guess your awful shower helped.”

 

Her eyebrows lifted.  “Are you completely better?”

 

It was really damn tempting to lie. It had been a long-ass day already, and he’d already been in the lab twice as long as he’d expected. He did need those combat meds though, and that meant that this whole thing had to work. “Not completely,” he admitted with a self-conscious sniffle. His shoulders slumped.

 

Her sigh was sharp and constrained and huffed out through her nose. Her forehead crimped between her eyebrows as she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s see what happens after an hour.”

 

—

 

Within about five minutes, Zack felt like he was losing his mind. In that time he’d already pulled out his phone three times to check how long had passed. In the neighbouring cell, the grunts and squeals were becoming more intense, and they were punctuated by snuffles and snorts. It was feeding time, maybe? Zack wondered whether anyone was likely to offer him any food. Or a drink would have been nice, actually. He would have downed a canteen, given the chance.

 

There was an open panel in the ceiling, covered over with iron bars. Zack struggled to imagine what it was used for. It could be that they threw food from above when they had something particularly vicious in here. Either way, those bars were staring Zack down.

 

After five more minutes of studying that opening, he found himself stood beneath it and craning upwards. He let the crutches drop with a hollow clatter, and stretched on the toes of his right foot to hook his fingertips around the bars. With a little hop from his good leg, he dragged himself upwards to hang from the ceiling. The bars held — which was fortunate – and Zack passed the rest of the hour suspended from the ceiling, rising repeatedly in a kind of modified pull up.

 

He was relieved to find that he could work his upper body without much objection from his hip. What was less encouraging was the ache across his chest and abdomen. It was weird: his muscles burned like it was the day after a rough assignment. He supposed that was exactly what it was, but his fight in Wutai had lasted less than five minutes before he was dragged out of the fray, stuck through with arrows like a pin cushion. He sighed and lifted himself infuriatingly slowly, letting his body warm and relax into the work. At least this was a familiar kind of pain. He knew how to push through it.

 

By the time the door slid open again, his arms and back were pulsing with a very particular exhausted heat. It had always been one of his favourite sensations. It was as if his muscles had been pulverised until all of their knots had been released. Maybe there were even a few mental knots that had gone right along with them. It had been more than twenty-four hours, he realised, since he’d done any exercise. Normally, if he didn’t get some sort of strenuous activity every few hours, his muscles twitched and his brain started to fritz out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left it this long, but he would have had to have been seriously out of it. Usually, he could manage a workout or three even when he was sick.    

 

He came to a reluctant stop, noticing that no footsteps had followed the swish of the door. Adjusting his grip on the bars, he turned to face the entrance. That did hurt. His sideways swing sent something hot and sharp deep into his hip, like an echo of the arrow sliding through his flesh in Wutai. He locked his grip on the bars, curling his biceps to pull upwards and freeze in a half-turn as if that had been his intention all along.

 

“Is that wise?” the assistant asked.

 

“Definitely not,” Zack said, through a tight-lipped grimace. “But my arms still work and I was bored.” He lowered himself onto his good leg, and then his heart sank. Cursing his lack of foresight, he ducked his head and peered up at the assistant sheepishly, “I don’t suppose you could… uh…” He nodded in the direction of the crutches, abandoned on the floor.

 

She gave an exasperated sigh as she retrieved them for him. “How are the allergies?”

 

He considered it. His throat was raw, and the skin around his nose felt swollen and sensitive, but for the first time since he’d been back in Midgar, his sinuses didn’t tickle as though he were about to start sneezing. He gave a tentative sniff, expecting to set off a reaction. It never came.

 

“Huh,” he said, appreciating the relative internal calm. “Might be alright, you know?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly and grinned. “Time to go ruin it?”

[solitaire-au]

🥰 Loved this.

I'm working on the beta for Chapter 3 atm.

[SexualOddity]

Everything was different the second time around. According to Hojo’s assistant, that was the product of having time to prepare, but, if that was the case, Zack much preferred the impromptu version.

 

They’d started with the roughest blood test Zack had ever had. Either the assistant believed ShinRa’s crap about SOLDIERs being “bullet-proof,” or she’d only ever stuck needles into monster skin. She’d held the thing like a dart and jammed it into his arm. He was still sulking about it as he loped down the corridor, but he’d been consoling himself that at least she’d left the tube in. She didn’t want to have to re-insert it every time Hojo ordered a blood test, but, honestly, Zack would probably benefit more from that than she would.

 

She’d replaced his gloves with a finger clip and his harness with a wired belt, which she’d strapped under his shirt. She’d also clipped probes into his nostrils. Given all the trouble he’d had with his nose in the past couple of days, he had not been happy about that, but the probes were small, and, for once, she had been fairly gentle.

 

By the time he reached the main lab, all kitted out in monitoring equipment, Hojo was hunched over a computer terminal, waiting.

 

“I assume you have yourself under control?” he said, without looking up.

 

“Never been better, Prof.”

 

It was an outrageous lie, of course, but Zack said it with a grin, so that was probably all that mattered. Besides, things had settled on the allergy front, and Hojo probably didn’t care about anything else. That was just as well, since he was about the last person Zack was going to talk to about his feelings in general.

 

The Professor peeled himself from the console to stand. Hojo had to be at least fifty, and he would crane over his work as if he had some kind of issue with his spine. Occasionally though, his movements were surprisingly limber. They sometimes reminded Zack of the lizards that dragged their bellies through the dirt in the Gongagan underbrush, slinking under rotting leaves as their flesh rippled beneath their dry, scaly skin.

 

“I suppose we had better begin,” Hojo said. “ShinRa must have its ignorant muscle if it is to protect the things that actually matter.”

 

His sigh was dreary, and his tone suggested that his earlier interest in the project had waned. That could not have been more okay with Zack. He never usually minded being the centre of attention, but the spotlight of Hojo’s scrutiny had always brought an uncomfortable tightness to his gut.

 

Zack scanned the walls up to the top of the tank. There’d been too many enclosed spaces that morning. At least this was a glass cell, he reasoned, instead of a metal one. It meant that he could see out.

 

Hojo leaned towards the pod, peering in. Zack recoiled. A bead of sweat trailed past his temple. It was just a remnant from his pull-ups in the monster cell. Probably.

 

There was a click from the intercom, and the familiar voice of the female assistant resounded in the chamber.

 

“For the purposes of identifying the allergen and measuring your reaction, I’ve separated the chemical components from the grenade sample and loaded them up in order of the likelihood that they’re responsible for your allergy.”

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Hojo waved away her words. “Just expose him to the first one.”

 

Zack tensed. That was quicker than he’d expected. He found his feet trying to shuffle into a fighting stance. That made no sense at all, so he re-arranged himself so his weight was balanced between the crutches and his still-functioning right leg.

 

He eyed the vents at the back of the pod. He couldn’t see or hear anything. He couldn’t feel anything either.

 

“I don’t think it’s this one,” he said, after a moment had passed.

 

Hojo waved at his assistant behind him, his eyes not leaving Zack. “Take some blood. I want to monitor histamine levels.”

 

“Why?” Zack said. “It wasn’t that one.”

 

The door slid open, and the female assistant was waiting outside. Lifting his hands as much as he could from the handles of the crutches, Zack spread his palms in question. “I’m completely fine.”

 

“It won’t take long,” she said, her voice flatly even.

 

Zack gave a sigh and a dramatic eye roll, but he followed her to a little room with a sink and a table, and he held out his arm.

 

By the time they were shutting him back in the pod for a third attempt, Zack was fucking fed up. He glared at the vent, daring it to do its worst, but then he felt a tingle right at the very tip of his nose. His eyes widened, and the hairs on the backs of his arms stood on end. It didn’t spread at first, but it intensified until it felt electric. Zack gave a strangled breath. Without warning, it raced through his nostrils, barrelling towards the bridge of his nose.

 

Oh fuck.

 

It was better than his first encounter with the smoke grenades, but only because there were no archers trying to kill him. He thought he’d been itchy these past twenty-four hours. He was wrong. He’d just forgotten this feeling. This was what it was really like — this flood of overwhelming, unbearable, moment-of-exposure irritation. When he’d been sneezing at the lingering smoke around Headquarters, he’d wished he could stop. Now, it was all he wanted, to sneeze and sneeze just to try to scratch at the insatiable itch. Otherwise, he’d settle for clawing out the inside of his face.

 

“HhrrISHHH’SHYEW!”

 

It was a relief. It was. But, shit, it hurt. Not that that was going to make a difference. His reaction was on rails, and it was tearing away from him. The muscles of his stomach seized, drawing inward, pressing into a hot ache through his abdomen. He was going too fast. Each sneeze was followed by a uncontrollable, all-consuming breath. Every heave of his lungs pushed his ribs outward to their limits and dragged them back violently to start the whole thing again. Sore and stiff, his chest resisted every movement, but it went on endlessly regardless, driving his muscles to contract again and again, forcing shuddering breaths through his nose and mouth. It wrenched his throat. It jarred his body. His arms shook as he struggled to cling to his crutches.

 

“HhhhrISHHHhhew! Hhht’ISHHHew! HAHT’ISHHH! HAHT’ISHHH! HaHt’ISHHhUhh! Ahhht’ISHHHhUH! T’ISHHHUH! T’ISHHUH! HUHT’ISHhUHhh! HAHTCH’TCHYEW!”

 

He had no idea how long he retained his precarious balance, but, at some point, a crutch skidded from under him, and his hands and knees smacked the floor. He cried out, seizing his hip. The next he knew, his cheek had slammed against the base of the pod. A jolt of pain rebounded through his head and neck. He grunted and eased his hands under him. Sneezing openly at the ground, he forced his arms to straighten, propping him up. Allergic tears dripped onto the floor.

 

“HAHT’ISHHH! HAHT’ISHH! ISHH! ISHH! HAHT’ISHH! ISHH! HAH… IHSHUH! HISH’SHUH! SHUH! SHUH! HIH… HISHSHYEW! HAH…HAHHISHHSHEW!”

 

Holy fuck. He needed to stop. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. His face streamed.

 

“ASHH! HAH’ASHH! HASHHHA! HASHH! HASHH! HASHH! HASHAHH! HAH’ASHHHAH! ASHHAH! ASHH! HUHHuhASHSHAH! HAH’SHAH!”

 

His nose was on fire. His ears itched deep inside where he couldn’t scratch. Something was broken in him, jabbing at him over and over, animating his body long past the point of exhaustion. He hauled himself onto his knees, both hands pushing against the ground as he sneezed frantically, feverishly at the floor.

 

“ASHH! HUH’ASHH! ASHH! H’ASHH! ASHH! HuhASHH! Huh…ASHH! HUH’SHAH!”

 

People were talking outside the pod, but they were muted by the glass, and Zack’s ears were full of the sound of his own, increasingly ragged, sneezes. He pressed his forehead against the cool metal at the base of the pod, willing the reaction to stop.

 

“Kih’SHUH! SHUH! SHUH! HIH’SHUH! HIH’SHUHh! HISHUHh! SHUH! HUH’IHSHHHUH!”

 

There was the bleep of an electronic lock and the swish of the door. It was only opening to the rest of the lab, obviously, but it felt like air. It felt like open space and freedom. Zack forced his arms and legs to crawl, driving in the direction of the door. A burst of pain in his hip stole his breath, aborting a sneeze before it could burst from his face. His head rocked back with a groan, and he collapsed onto his elbows, immediately dissolving into violent sneezing.

 

He wanted to crane upwards, to seek out whoever had opened the door and beg them to haul him out of there. Apparently the situation hadn’t entirely eaten his pride though, because he just curled inward, sneezing at his knees, stretching his leg out behind him, trying to find a position to relieve the pain.

 

The door shut.

 

He did look up then, rasping a cry of objection. It was smothered in short order as sneezes continued to beat his body like merciless fists.

 

He couldn’t see. Tears re-filled his eyes as fast as they spilled over his cheeks, and his whole face was wet with crap that he didn’t want to think about. Easing back onto his haunches, he dragged a wad of tissues from his pocket and spread it wide. It soaked through to his palms as he convulsed against it, sneezing helplessly.

 

“I c—ASHHH! ASHHH! H’ASHH! I can’t— HEH’SHEW! EHH’SHEW! HEh’EHSHEW! H’ESHhEW! HEHSHhEW! HEHT’SCHYEW!”

 

Somehow, amidst the chaos in his body, Zack’s ears pricked to the soft hiss of the re-opening door. Before he could make his lips form words, he was surrounded by people. There was movement and speech he couldn’t follow as hands and arms grabbed him at every side. He moaned at the pressure on his wounds, but, like everything else, it was lost in successive sneezing.

 

“ISHH’SHUH! HISHhUH! HAHT’SCHEW! AHSCHEW! EHP’SCHYEW! SCHEW! HUSHHHUH! HEH’HUSHHUH!”

 

The world gave a nauseating lurch as he was hoisted into the air. He locked his muscles and clamped his fist around his nose. He could feel the fucking probes in his nostrils. They pressed against his too-sensitive skin, and his stifled sneezes quickened until he thought his eyes might burst from his face. He clung to his nose anyway, afraid that if he let his body move freely, he’d upset someone’s grip and send himself crashing to the floor. Tears poured over his face, warming and wetting his hand.

 

They bundled him through a doorway and, a little too clumsily, they lowered him to sit. He grabbed the chair at either side and planted his right boot to keep the thing from tipping over. The moment he had his balance, he slung an arm across his face. He tried not to think about whether he’d sneezed on anyone in the meantime, since he mostly likely had, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

 

He pulled back, jarred by rigidity of the tube for his blood tests brushing against his lips. As soon as he moved his arm, there were hands at his wrist pulling it out straight. He twisted to sneeze into his opposite elbow while voices clamoured around him.

 

“Will you—”

 

“HHk’ESHHuh!”

 

“—him still!”

 

“HEHK’ISHH!”

 

“I ca—”

 

“HEHk’KMMPH! KMMP! HMMPT! HHMPT! HMPT!”

 

Zack got the message, and, reluctantly, he re-set his fist around his nose. Holding himself still was back-breaking. His overworked muscles quivered with the effort of bracing his body, and the pressure in his head made his ears want to pop. He shut his eyes. The force of his suppressed sneezes ricocheted in his skull until his head ached with a dull, continuous throb.

 

Another voice blared through the speaker system. Zack recognised it as Hojo’s, but the words were drowned in pain and exhaustion and noise. What he did follow was the reaction of his assistants. Their movements turned rougher and more hasty. There was an argument, Zack thought, based on the tones of their voices, but the actual content was beyond his reach. Their hands were all over him, tugging up his shirt, messing in his hair, someone even started yanking on his wrist, trying to force his hand away from his face.

 

Fuck that.

 

The pinch of Zack’s thumb and finger was uncomfortable; it squashed his sneezes and squeezed against his sensors, but it was the only barrier between him and the swarm of researchers. He’d be damned if he was giving up the little privacy that afforded him. They’d have to fight him. He might be in lousy shape for action, but, if it came down to it, he was stronger than they were. He tensed, clamping tighter on his nose, squashing the probes and sneezing harder as a result.

 

“Zack.”

 

His name broke through the jumble of noise, soft and steady and impossibly out of place here. He opened his eyes. Before him was the female assistant. She leaned closer, with one hand on the corner of the table. Her shoulders were hunched, and her fists were clenched, but her expression was wide-eyed and worried. He pulled back, turning his head, jerking towards the floor with stifled sneezes.

 

“Zack.”

 

She said it again, softer, and her fingers were warm on the back of his hand. She gave a gentle tug. There was urgency in her eyes, but her eyebrows lifted. She was asking permission.

 

Before he’d processed what he was doing, Zack relaxed his muscles. She guided his hand downwards, and, in one smooth movement, her other hand was at his face, removing the probes from his nose. His breath hitched wildly, his head empty of anything but itch, until he felt fresh tissues, big and soft, being pressed against his damp palm. He bundled them to his face before they became too wet to be useful, and he collapsed into frenzied sneezing.

 

“ASHHAH! HASHHAH! HASHH’AH! H’SHAH! ‘SCHYEW! SCHYEW! HEH’SCHYEW! HESHYEW! ESHYEW! ESHYEW! EHSHH! HEH’ESHHYEW!”

 

Before he could figure out their purpose, arms were all around him again. When his chair was tipped back, he panicked. He grabbed for something solid and ended up twisted onto his side as they lifted him up. At least it was his good side.

 

“Just go!” someone barked, and then they were moving.

 

Zack scrambled to get a hold on himself. He had faced down literal armies. He could take a four foot lift from some guys in lab coats. Even as he had the thought, though, he knew that this was different. In combat, he called the shots. No matter how shit things might get, he still had his wits. He still had his sword, and his training, and his enhanced ability. Right now, he wasn’t sure what he had.

 

He wanted to breathe, to force his body to settle, but he couldn’t even control that much. Sneezing seemed to be the only form of breathing available to him. His head was spinning, and the people holding him blocked his view on either side. He lost all concept of where he was until he was being tilted back down onto his feet.

 

He noticed the rounded glass walls first, and, for half a second, he thought this was another pod. His mind blanked with fear, and his palms sweated. As he was raised to stand, he realised that his actual situation was preferable to that alternative but not by much.

 

His brain clicked into action, and he drove his head down, averting his eyes from the midday sun. He’d been caught out in this little box before. He did not feel like repeating that process on top of everything else. Through his watery gaze, he could make out a control terminal in front of him. Beyond the glass was the open air. It was the closest Zack was likely to get to it until Hojo’s drug was clipped to his item belt. Far below him was the city of Midgar, elevated on metal plates.

 

This was the private external elevator that took employees to and from the restricted upper floors. He was being cut loose. He dug in his pocket for his phone, flinging tissues to the floor in his scramble to reach it.

 

“Hhhh’IHSHHEW!-HhhIHSHHHEW!”

 

His abdomen locked rigid as he fought to keep his balance on his right leg, but those muscles had been lambasted already. When the first sneeze hit, he could barely brace against the lurch of his body. When the second one followed immediately, his strength gave out, inadequate against the force with which it buffeted his body.

 

He made a grab for the control panel, and the phone slipped from his grasp, hitting the metal with a hollow ting.

 

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

 

“P’hh’HEH! Ph-hh’EHSHhSHYEW! HEH’SHUH! PhhUH! HEh’UHh… HEHH’TSCHYEW! ‘SCHEW! HehrrESHHEW! Phh-Phone!”

 

That one-syllable word felt like a mountain summit. He twisted, triumphant, still sneezing as he craned his neck to look behind him.

 

They’d left.

 

Zack shut his eyes. His stomach sank as if the elevator had already begun to descend. ShinRa HQ was a skyscraper. It was a very long way to his room in the barracks. He didn’t have his crutches, and, without falling on his face, he couldn’t reach his phone.

 

There was a sound — a fast and echoing clip. Zack registered it between sneezes, but it took him a moment to recognise what it was.

 

Little boots trotting down a metal corridor.

 

Renewed hope rose in a grand swell. He felt it spread right into his hairline. His skin tingled with nervous energy. He turned his head and shoulders again, ignoring the tug of pain at his hip. The assistant was heading towards the elevator, and she was holding his crutches. His heart flipped at the sight of them. Fuck, he never expected to be so happy to see them. If he could have stood without the terminal, he would have stretched out his arms for them, but, then, if he’d have been stable enough for that, he wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place.

 

She was talking on the phone, he realised, and he caught snatches of her conversation between sneezes.

 

“I’ve got an—”

 

“HeyyISHHHEW!”

 

“—in the private elevator on 59.”

 

“AHh’ISCHH! HahhISHHUH!”

 

“—to the infirmary.”

 

No. No. No. Not the infirmary. Not more prodding and poking and examinations.

 

“Hh! Hh! HH’YASCHHhew!”

 

She was in the elevator with him now, and she mouthed “Fifty-nine” at him while she held out his crutches. She had both clutched in one hand while the other held the phone to her ear.

 

Clinging to the control panel, Zack curled towards his shoulder. “HAH’ISCHH! H’ISHHUH! H’ISHhSHUH!”

 

“—allergy attack. I think he’ll need a wheelchair.”

 

Oh, hell no.

 

“HAH’ISHHUH!”

 

“Charisse!” The shout rang down the corridor in the silence between Zack’s sneezes.

 

The air in the elevator stilled. Zack blinked.

 

A name.

 

He could see the whites of Charisse’s eyes when they locked with his own. She still didn’t want him to know.

 

He looked away, gripping the terminal tight as sneezes shook through his body.

 

He didn’t know why, but he’d thought she might have changed her mind.

 

“HAHhhISHH’Uhh! HehhISHHH’Uh! H’ISHHHHUH! H’ISHHUH! HISHSHUH!”

 

“Charisse!” the voice repeated, growing insistent. “Hojo is losing his shit out here!”

 

“TCHyew! HEHTchYEW! HEHT’CHUH!”

 

When Zack raised his head, Charisse was thrusting the crutches urgently under his nose. His arms trembled. He tried to hold his breath, but it shook in spite of him. Desperate, he stared at the crutches. That immovable itch scorched within his nose. He creased in two.

 

“AhhhISCHH! HAH’ISCHH! HAH’IHSHUH! USHHH! HAH’RUSHHHAH!”

 

Zack clung to the console. If he lost his balance, he wouldn’t be getting up.

 

“Charisse!”

 

The crutches clattered to the floor, bouncing off the controls as they fell.

 

Edited October 31, 2023 by SexualOddity

[solitaire-au]

Aww, poor Zack! What torture it must be for him. 😢 He must have felt so helpless.

I like changes you made with the probes and electrodes, and her jamming the cannula into his arm as if he was livestock getting tagged or something.

[SexualOddity]

Thank you! Although, all of the above were your suggestions haha, so it's probably you who should take a bow 🙂

[Leas]

I love this! I can’t wait to read more!

[SexualOddity]

On 11/3/2023 at 6:06 AM, Leas said:

I love this! I can’t wait to read more!

Thank you so much for taking the time to let me know you’re reading.  I’m so happy that you like it so far.

[SexualOddity]

Zack didn’t want to go to the infirmary. He didn’t want to be laid on another hospital bed. Granted, he didn’t know where he did want to be at that point — probably in some cave out on the Midgar wastes, where no one would be able to look at him.

 

He held his arms rigid as he supported himself against the terminal. Afraid of wetting the screen and short-circuiting the elevator controls, he pressed his nose under his pauldron, his muscles burning as they forced out sneeze after endless fucking sneeze. After more than twenty in a row, he still hadn’t managed to pause for breath. By that point, he was past caring. If he’d have trusted his balance, he’d have thumped the stupid console, or kicked it, just for the sake of hitting something. His head was swimming. His arms and mouth were numb and tingling. He needed a fucking break.

 

He blinked at the display, knowing that all of the numbers would be greyed out apart from 1 and 59. He had his keycard in his pocket, but it wouldn’t help. The only restricted floor he had access to was the one he was already on.

 

It was probably better that he didn’t need the keycard, Zack thought, bitterly. In this state, it was just another thing he could drop on the floor. He gazed longingly at the tissues scattered amongst his phone and crutches, and he coughed as he tried to sniff back the crap that was streaming from his face.

 

The external elevator serviced the private floors on Level 60 and up. The only way to reach the main part of the building was by switching to the general access lift on 59, but that was where the medics would be coming to ambush him.

 

So, those were Zack’s choices: medics on 59, or crash into the lobby in the middle of the day, sneezing his ass off and unable to walk. Or, he could collapse here and wait to die of old age, allergic in an elevator. That was sounding increasingly fucking appealing.

 

He prodded the touch button for Level 59 and grabbed the edge of the terminal before the elevator could lurch into motion. The bleep of the controls reminded Zack of Angeal’s phone, closing down a training sim when Zack knew he’d messed up an objective. He shut his eyes and sneezed helplessly as he descended. This was happening whether he liked it or not.

 

—

 

It was less than twenty-four hours since a major assault on HQ, and the infirmary was busy. Smoke grenades had been a major feature in every anti-ShinRa attack since Zack’s disastrous mission in Wutai, but most of the exposed patients had now been admitted to wards. Even so, given the prevalence of the smoke in the hospital, it was decided that Zack would recover better in isolation, so, after a shower and a change of clothes, the nurses took him to a private examination room to wait for a doctor.

 

Normally, waiting in a room, alone, would have been Zack’s idea of a nightmare, but when the door clicked shut, closing him in, he found himself releasing a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. He spent his last reserves of energy to haul himself onto the hospital bed, and he curled up there, pressing a cold compress against his eyes with one hand and a wad of tissues under his nose with the other.

 

After a while, someone from the reception desk came to ask for contact details for Zack’s friends. The hospital wanted someone who could help him return to the barracks when they were finished and who could take in information from the Doctor on his behalf. Zack was sneezing so frequently that he had to ask the guy to repeat himself three times before he understood what he wanted, so he couldn’t deny that he needed the help. He had no idea who was on base, though, so he kept his tissues clamped to his face, and he scrawled out a list. Dealing with anyone seeing him in this state was going to be a challenge, but he figured he could make it easier on himself by starting with people who would make him slightly less uncomfortable.

 

When the guy had gone, Zack looked down at the bed, dubiously. His body was stiff and sore, and the throbbing in his hip had grown deep and insistent, way down within the joint. It felt like a warning. Deciding that laying down was too great of a challenge, he sagged against the wall, breathing in shallow pants to limit the expansion of his chest. It was like recovering from a beating. He could almost map out imaginary blows that he’d sustained on his face and his torso, where his skin was numb and swollen and his muscles were wrecked.

 

His mouth lolled open, and he stared blankly at the sink and tiles across the little room. The buzzing in his nose had spread right across the centre of his face, intense enough to make his eyes want to cross. He dragged a second hand to his nose to secure the tissues in place, bracing himself in grim expectation.

 

“Hh…Hh…Hh’hh’hh!  HuhhhHh… HrrIHHSH’SHUH! H’RRISHHHUH! ISHHH! Huhhh… Uhh’Hh!… ISHH! Huhr’ISHHH! HAHR’ISHHSHEW!”

 

“Zack.”

 

With his focus so consumed by the command of his body, the gentle voice at the door was entirely unexpected. He jerked, reflexively, jumping about three inches in the air.

 

So much for enhanced perception.

 

“Suzie,” he rasped, lifting his head from his cupped hands. He cleared his throat and wiped at his streaming nose. He knew this doctor.

 

Every operative in SOLDIER was assigned a practitioner to conduct annual health checks and to oversee any medical needs. Zack’s was Mikaela Barlow, and she was also his long-term friend. Suzie, Zack knew in passing. She bunked with Mikaela when the pair of them were working in Midgar.

 

The corners of Suzie’s eyebrows pinched together, and the edges of her lips lifted in a strained smile. She looked different than Zack remembered from their brief, off-duty conversations. Her tawny curls were scraped into a tight ponytail, and her usually-laughing brown eyes were sombre as she regarded him.

 

“Bless you,” she said.

 

“T’hh-thanks.” Zack lowered his face into the tissue and concentrated, hoping he could deter further sneezing by an act of will. He couldn’t. It felt like the grenade chemical had skinned the insides of his nostrils. Every breath was aggravating, and the sharp smell of antiseptic prickled in his nose like a mass of itchy needles.

 

“Uhh… Huhh! Huhh’CHUH!” He shuddered, clamping his hands more tightly around his face. “TCHUH! Ahh…HT’CHUH! CHUH! TCHUH! Hah’TCHUH! ‘TCHuh! AahH… HaaAH… HTCH’TCHYEW!” Finished, he flopped against the wall like a deflated roll mat, and he let his nose drip into wet tissues, too tired to replace them. 

 

At some point, Suzie had pulled up a chair opposite him. She lifted the wastepaper basket from where it sat at the side of the bed. At her cue, Zack dragged himself up, tossed his tissues in the trash, and took a fresh bundle to blow his nose.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, not meeting her eye. “M’gonna sneeze. A lot.” He swallowed when his voice came out tight and strained, and he cleared his throat again.

 

“I figured. Don’t worry.” There was a dull tap as she returned the trashcan to the floor. “I read your notes, Zack. Sounds like you’re having a shitty couple of days.” Her voice was slow and soft, and the light emphasis on her words made his chest ache. 

 

He did look at her then, and it felt like the whole history of the previous thirty-five hours passed between their eyes, from the instant the pin was pulled on that very first grenade. Zack’s throat constricted. His gaze dropped to his lap.

 

“I hear this has been a very intense reaction.” There was a new, firmer undertone to Suzie’s voice. She was three or four years older than Mikaela, and Zack could hear the effect of her extra years of experience in the steady authority with which she spoke. ‘We do have some concerns about your drug testing, but, for now, I think we should just focus on making you feel a little better.”

 

He swallowed again, and she crossed the room, taking a cup from the dispenser and filling it at the sink. Zack was quick to accept it. 

 

“I thought you wo-hhrrrked on the…” He scrunched his nose. “The civilian…uh…” He trailed off, distracted. His nose would not stop tickling. With a defeated sigh, he pressed the cup back into Suzie’s outstretched hand. He wrapped an arm around his face, but that damn blood test tube was still taped there. Sniffling frantically, he managed to hold off a sneeze for long enough to switch to use the back of his wrist. “Hh’hh’hh… HKk’TCHhew! Kh’TCHew! hh! Hh! HKH’TCH! Hh… Huh!… Hah’KHSCHHuh! HKk’KHSHH! Hahh’KSHHhhAHh!”

 

He slumped, and sniffled, and thanked Suzie when she blessed him. He wished she’d stop, though. He diverted his gaze as he blew his nose, wondering how many times she’d end up having to say it.

 

“You wanted to know what I’m doing in the SOLIDER section?” she asked, as she returned the cup. “You have some great medics among the SOLDIER team, but most don’t have recent experience of treating allergies.”

 

He nodded, and gulped at his water. It made sense. He was learning that there was a very good reason to avoid giving enhanced immunity to allergic people.

 

“I have experience, though,” she said, with a smile. Her eyes twinkled and creased in the corners. “I’ve never had an enhanced patient, but if things start getting into crazy, sci-fi territory, there are plenty of SOLDIER specialists here for me to consult with.”

 

He nodded and clamped a finger and thumb around his nose, screwing up his face and shuffling self-consciously. Trying to forget that Suzie was in the room with him, he held his breath, but his nostrils were flaring against his fist. He huffed in frustration and opened his eyes, blinking away tears. “Gonna sneeze again, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not in any great rush,” Suzie said, though he already knew she was busy. “Once your friend arrives, he can join in the conversation. That should take some of the pressure off you.”  

 

She handed him the box of tissues, and the instant he released his nose to take it, his breathing burst into hitches. “HUH…Hh’hih’hih’hih’hih… Hh… H’KTCHYEW!” It came out fast, once it hit. Before he could take a normal breath, his lungs had filled for another sneeze. “KTCHYEW! Ht’TCHew! TCHhew! Heh… EhhHH… HEh’ESHSHEW!”

 

Zack’s shoulders sagged. He gave a hoarse cough and wiped at his nose. “Do you know who’s coming?” he asked, sniffling as he dropped his tissues in the trash. “I gave them a list.”

 

“Erm…” Suzie gaze drifted before she looked back at Zack. “Dale? Does that sound right?”

 

“Yeah.” Zack rubbed at the crease between his eye and the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

 

“Apparently, there were grenades in his training this morning though, so he needs to wash and change first.”

 

Dale had been the third name on Zack’s list. That meant that Kunsel and Marc were both on assignment. That was unfortunate, but not surprising. One of the advantages of using mako-enhanced fighters was that you could work them harder, with shorter rests in between jobs. Even with that considered, though, ShinRa had been pushing it lately. Even Zack felt run down a lot of the time, and he much preferred too much work over too little.

 

Zack’s breathing quickened, and he moved urgently, pulling tissues from the box. He had hoped that he could blow his nose, maybe delay the next sneezing fit, but the itching swelled to fill his head, and the best he could manage was to bundle tissues to his face.

 

“Hh’HPp’TCHUH! CHHh! CHHh! HEHT’CHUH! HEHT’CHUH! HaHh… Hahh’Ht’ISHHEW! HISHHEW! Hh’SHUH!”

 

He held still with his hands cupped over his face. His stomach and chest throbbed. His head thumped behind his closed eyes.

 

“Bless you,” Suzie whispered. There was silence for a moment. “Are you with me, Zack?”

 

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. “I’m…” His sticky throat prompted a little cough. “M’ sore. My chest, is, uh…” Wincing, he cracked open an eyelid. “It hurts. Is it…” He cocked his head with a frown. “It’s not from sneezing?”

 

The corners of Suzie’s eyes creased in a sympathetic grimace, and she pressed her lips together as she gave a knowing nod. “It probably is from sneezing,” she said. “You have a lot of muscles there that have been getting a very thorough workout. You’re keeping up with your pain medication?”

 

“Usually,” Zack croaked, glancing at the clock above the door. “Can take some more now, but they’re back in my room.” He sniffled, and cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect to take so long in the Science labs.”

 

“We can give you some while you’re here as long as you don’t double dose.” She turned to a computer screen at her side. “And I can prescribe a muscle relaxant. That should help. No alcohol while you’re on these, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Zack shrugged. It wasn’t like he got much opportunity to drink. For as long as he’d been a SOLDIER, Zack’s life had been split between assignments and twenty-four hour call duties.

 

“Right,” Suzie said, patting her thighs. She reached for a tray that Zack hadn’t noticed before. “I have a little box of tricks here. Shall we see what we can do with some of this?”

 

[SexualOddity]

With the final squeeze of the bottle, air bubbled into Zack’s nose along with liquid. He shot up from the sink, relieved to succumb to the hitching gasps that had long threatened to burst from his body. Hands tugged at his sides, guiding him back into the wheelchair.

 

“HAHhhrUSHHHhew!” He sneezed explosively as he crashed to sit, jerking to the right, off his stitches. “Hhhrr’ASHHHh! HhhrASHHH! HhR’ASHHh! HhhrASHHhAH!” He pressed his hands helplessly to his face. While he’d been stood at the sink, the solution had poured from his mouth in an continuous stream, but his nose still felt wet with liquid that his body wanted to eject.

 

Suzie unwound paper towels from a roll and handed him a stack of sheets. Holding them to his nose, Zack glared at her for as long as he could manage before he was overwhelmed by another fit of sneezing.

 

“HAHht’ISHHH! HAHt’ISHHH! H’IHSHUH! IH’SHUH! HEHt’SCHYEW!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Suzie said, when Zack broke off, panting. “I know it’s not pleasant. It won’t be like that every time. It can take a while to get used to nasal irrigation, and you’re very sensitive just now.”

 

Zack shuffled in his seat. Slamming down onto his exit wounds hadn’t exactly helped the experience. Suzie had wanted him to do it seated at an accessible sink, but, to everyone’s frustration, they’d discovered that there wasn’t one in the SOLDIER part of the infirmary.

 

“It should at least have flushed out some of the allergens,” Suzie continued. “And helped with your congestion. Does your head feel any clearer?”

 

“Yeah,” Zack conceded, trying to swallow down the taste of salt. It was nice to feel like his face was less crammed with snot. His head felt a bit less heavy. His brain felt a bit less slow. He wasn’t going to risk too big of a breath through his nose, though. The antiseptic in the air was still making his nostrils twitch.

 

Suzie had recruited a nursing assistant to help Zack get safely between the chair and the sink. It was while she was dismissing him that a woman Zack didn’t recognise opened up the door.

 

“This is the one,” she announced, and Zack turned the chair just in time to see Dale following her through the doorway. His short hair was pressed flat against his head, and it seemed a darker shade of his usual blond. It was wet, Zack realised, with some surprise. Not only that, but Dale was missing all of his armour, his gloves, and one of his belts. Zack had never seen him leave the dorm without all of his kit.

 

When Dale’s eyes locked with Zack’s, they widened. They flicked to Zack’s cheek, where his head had hit the base of the pod. Then they tracked down Zack’s body, and the colour drained from Dale’s face.

 

Shit.

 

Zack lowered his chin and thumbed his forehead, worried as he watched Dale’s stride falter, mid-step. A horror-stricken stillness settled over his friend.

 

Dale’s Dad uses a wheelchair.

 

It would have been really fucking great if Zack had remembered that before he’d put Dale on the stupid contact list. In disbelief at his own blunder, Zack shook his head.

 

One day he would learn to engage his damn brain.

 

Suzie introduced herself and explained that there were no immediate concerns relating to Zack’s injuries. Zack kept his eyes on Dale, not really listening. He did notice that Suzie frowned, though, and she watched Dale closely as she explained her reasons for asking him to come.

 

“I… uh…” Sniffling, Zack glanced at the wheelchair, his thoughts having a hard time catching up with his mouth. “I’m not in the chair because of my leg. Was just, kinda… sneezing too much for the crutches.”

 

“Okay,” Dale said, robotically. His eyes continued to roam, scanning Zack’s body while his feet stayed rooted to the spot.

 

“You will probably need to hold on to the wheelchair for a while,” Suzie told Zack. “Just until the risk of these intense reactions reduces. Or until you’ve recovered sufficiently to maintain a stable footing. Whichever comes first.”

 

“Right,” Zack said, his lips pinched for reasons beyond the itch that was rallying in his nose. He’d only just come to terms with using the crutches. Below the armrests, the solid sides of the wheelchair expanded in his mind, like another fucking cage. Early this morning, he’d been right here in this infirmary, so doggedly determined to accept his allergies and his temporarily-reduced mobility. It had been just hours since then, but, already, he was having to fight to cling to the remains of that resolve. He had not expected it to be so sorely tested, so soon.

 

“It’s just a chair on wheels, Zack,” Suzie insisted. “It’s no different from any other chair you might want to sit in.”

 

Zack stole a glance at Dale. Predictably, he was glaring at Suzie, his mako-blue eyes blazing furiously beneath his furrowed brows.

 

That did not bode well.

 

Zack scrunched up his face and turned away, driving a fist under his septum. Suzie was saying something to Dale, but Zack needed tissues, and a trashcan, and probably a few hundred sneezes before his nose would quit nagging at him.

 

He yanked at the wheels of the chair, propelling himself closer to the bed. He slung the paper towels into the trashcan and had just closed his hand around the tissue box before the igniting tickle whipped the air from his lungs.

 

“HHREHTCHYEW! HURREHTCHYEW! EHTCHYEW! HET’CHYEW! HEHTCH’TCHYEW! Hh’Huh’HUH…”

 

Holy shit, he itched. The oncoming sneeze hovered in an agonising limbo, burning his nose instead of bursting from his face. In a feat of concentration, he fumbled at the box and freed a handful of tissues before his breath finally caught.

 

“HURrESHHUH! H’ESHHUH! HESHHUH! HIH’SHUH!”

 

He tipped his head back, his face slack and his nose tingling so badly it made his toes curl. His chest jerked with painful hitches. Someone said his name, maybe, but, fuck, he couldn’t think about anything beyond how much he needed to sneeze.

 

“AHHhUSHHH! AHhUSHHH! HAH’USHHHUH! HEH’SCHYEW!”

 

He slumped over in the chair, burying his face in the damp tissue. The constant itch in his sinuses simmered unhappily, still threatening to erupt.

 

“Zack,” Dale said, from behind him. He sounded like he’d been punched in the gut.

 

Clamping tissue to his face with one hand, Zack used the other to rotate his chair.

 

As Zack came to face him, Dale lurched forward, lifting a boot, only to freeze, mid-step, and set it back down.

 

“I’m fine, buddy,” Zack sniffed and coughed, still dripping liquid from the fucking nasal rinse. The tickle stirred, and he had to blow his nose hurriedly before it could swell into a whole new fit.

 

“This happened to you in combat?’ Dale’s eyes were wide.

 

“Er, yeah.” Zack leant over to toss his tissues in the trash. He coughed. “Bit worse that that, actually.”

 

“It’s treatable?” Dale demanded, his head snapping in Suzie’s direction.

 

“There are treatments, yes, for day to day symptoms, and R and D are hoping to create something for Zack to use on the battlefield.” She brought the nasal rinse bottle across to her tray of supplies, and she packed it into its box as she spoke to Zack.

 

“Dale was just telling me that his clean clothes and hair may have absorbed some further smoke after he washed and changed.”

 

“You been on the SOLDIER floor since you got back?” Dale asked him.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then you know what I had to walk through to get to the elevator.” Dale’s eyebrows lifted and knit in the centre, something sadder softening his still-staring eyes. “I’m gonna be staying over here,” he said, quiet but firm. “‘Til you really need me to come close.”

 

“O’hh… hh!” Zack sniffed. He grunted in frustration and pulled more tissues from the box. “Okay.”

 

Lifting a chair, Suzie took a step towards Dale in the corner, but he held out his hand and shook his head. Unruffled, she set it down and moved her own chair so that it faced them both.“I still think you need to have someone with you, even if it adds to your discomfort in the short-term.” Suzie told Zack. “It’s very difficult to take in information when—”

 

“HhhRrrISHHHUH!” Zack lurched sideways, his focus dragged inward. “HhhhISHHHUH! Hhhr’IHSHHHUH! HH’hh’IHSHHhEW!”

 

Elbows on his knees, Zack sniffled into his cupped hands, waiting for the pressure in his temples and the ache in his chest to calm.

 

“Zack,” Suzie said.

 

He squinted as he opened his eyes, the pain not quite ready to relent.

 

“Did my colleague explain the purpose of bringing your friend down here?”

 

Zack cleared his throat and wiped his nose. “Yeah.”

 

“And are you happy for me to discuss your health with Dale? You can change your mind at any time.”

 

Zack glanced at Dale as he stood by the doorway, shuffling and trying to back his stocky body even further into the corner.

 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Zack said, with a half smile.

 

Dale stood straighter then, lifting his chin in acknowledgement. “I have your back with this. You understand?” His eyes were piercing, and he spoke with a fierce intensity that made Zack shrink back.

 

He managed a tight-lipped nod in response.

 

“Won’t be long until Kunsel’s back from assignment,” Dale continued. “He and Marc are in a chopper right now.”

 

Suzie’s head snapped towards the door. “Anyone who’s been involved in a grenade attack will need to wash and change before they see him.”

 

Dale’s jaw visibly clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met her gaze. “I checked,” he said, annunciating every consonant. “No grenades on their mission. They were fighting monsters.”

 

“Not a problem, then. I just want to avoid unnecessary triggers, wherever that’s practical.” Suzie said, holding up placating hands. “Just so you’re aware, a change of clothes would be a good idea for anyone sharing a room with him, particularly if the SOLDIER floor is as bad as you’ve implied.”

 

“You have some other stuff for me to use?” Zack said, cutting in before Dale found another reason to argue. He looked pointedly at the tray on the desk.

 

“Yes, I do.” Suzie smiled, but her eyes flicked briefly to Dale as she reached to retrieve a long box. “I’m a little limited in terms of what I can give you right now,” she said, handing the box to Zack, “but this will moisturise your skin, and that should make you a bit more comfortable.”

 

“That, uh…” He gave a dry laugh. “That sounds really good, actually.”

 

“It’s unscented,” Suzie explained, “but there is a possibility that applying it will you sneeze.”

 

Zack stared at her. “You’re kidding me?” he said, aghast. “This too?” He turned the box over in his hands. “But, it’s just a cream.”

 

“Yeah.” Suzie pressed her lips together as she nodded. “It is. The problem is, your nasal passages and the surrounding areas are very inflamed, and they will be for some time. You might find that you’re sensitive to a whole host of things that would never usually cause you a problem. For some people, that can include physical contact with the nose. The extra sensitivity should fade though,” she said, her tone lightening, “once you’ve recovered from the effects of the smoke.”

 

Zack frowned, finding his brain sluggish and resistant when he tried to think. He rubbed at the skin behind his ear. “This sensitivity thing, that wouldn’t… uh…” He cocked his head. “It wouldn’t include smells, would it?”

 

“It could do, yeah.”

 

Zack gave a strained smile, pointing generally into the air. “Like, antiseptic?”

 

Suzie winced. “Yes. And I’m sorry.”

 

“And mako? In the R and D labs?”

 

Suzie gave a grim nod. “That could do it, yeah.”

 

“Wow.” Zack blinked, trying to process the implications of her words. “That sucks.” He rubbed his nose between his finger and thumb, heading off a rising itch. “Is this an enhancement thing?”

 

“It’s a physiological thing. Happens to lots of people with allergies,” she added, when Zack returned her gaze blankly.

 

“What do you mean, an enhancement thing?”

 

Zack jolted at the sound of Dale’s voice. Typical Dale. He had this tendency to disappear into watchful silence, but only until he decided he had something to say.

 

Both Zack and Suzie hesitated, and there was tension in the momentary pause. Dale stared in expectation, his eyes flicking between them.

 

“Allergy symptoms are an immune response,” Suzie began, “and, as I understand it, immune responses are amplified after mako treatment.”

 

Dale’s face fell.

 

“It’s thought that the severity of Zack’s allergies has been increased as a result of his enhancements.”

 

Dale drew himself up to his full height. He was shorter than most SOLDIERs, but he was brawny. Squaring his shoulders as he was, he looked imposing in the little room. When he spoke, though, his voice was small and thin.

 

“ShinRa did this to you…”

 

His eyes scanned Zack’s body again, slow this time, his complexion turning sickly as his eyes bulged. He planted a supporting hand on the wall.

 

“Dale…”

 

“Do you need to sit down?” Suzie asked.

 

No sooner had Zack set a hand on his wheel, ready to move closer, than Dale rallied, his boots suddenly firm on the floor.

 

“No one thought to consider this before enhancing him?” His tone was typically commanding, but the hint of a tremor in his words was nothing at all like Dale.

 

Made uneasy by the change, Zack brought his wheelchair alongside Suzie. His nose prickled more intensely.

 

“They did consider it.” Suzie’s voice was quiet but calm. She turned to Zack. “I checked your recruitment pre-screens. You had a IgE test and a skin prick. The IgE came back elevated, but there are a lot of reasons why that might happen.” She split her attention between Zack and Dale as she continued.  “Parasitic infection is near the top of the list. Zack had no reported allergies, clear results on the skin prick, and he comes from a region where the prevalence of parasitic organisms is very high.”

 

Dale’s eyes narrowed, and he drew out his words resentfully. “Let me guess, you gave him meds for parasites, and you sent him off for a mako drip?”

 

“That wasn’t Suzie, Dale.” Zack said, soft but firm.

 

“I’m not suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake,” Suzie said, holding up her hands once again. “It’s actually the Science department that carry out enhancement suitability testing, and I imagine they’ll be tightening their processes with regards to allergies.”

 

“Not much comfort to my friend now, is it?” Dale’s nostrils flared, and his shoulders hunched as he glared at Suzie.

 

“Dale,” Zack exclaimed, driving the chair forward. “Suzie’s has nothing to do with… HH!” He clamped a first around his nose. “With R and D. She’s not even a S’huh’SOLDIER m’medic. ISHH! HAHt’ISHH! HAHt’ISHHUH!”

 

“Alright, back up,” Dale said. His body stayed rigid, but his voice was gentle.

 

Zack didn’t move. “She’s M’hh… She’s Mika’s roommate.”

 

“Your doctor friend? The rookie?” There was an edge of uncertainty in Dale’s tone.

 

“She q’hh— qualified now. But yeah.” Zack held his breath, squeezing his nostrils shut.

 

Dale stared at the ground, his chest lifting in a little sigh. When he sighed a second time, some of the tension seemed to drop from his muscles.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Suzie told him, “I think we’re on the same side.”

 

Dale jerked his head in a stiff nod. He glanced at Suzie, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “I, um… M’sorry. I…” He sighed. “I haven’t had the best experience with some of the systems around here. Or with… Well, with ShinRa.” He narrowed his eyes. “But, I’m… ” He stared at his boots, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad he has someone he knows.”

 

A smile warmed Suzie’s features, and it seemed like she was about to answer when the door swished open, and another doctor stuck his head through the entrance.

 

“Green light for antihistamines,” he said, without any further introduction.

 

Suzie took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, her eyes drifting upwards. “Common sense prevails,” she murmured.

 

The other doctor grinned. “Everything has to be administered here and recorded on file, and we can’t give anything that will last longer than twelve hours.”

 

Suzie nodded. “We can work with that. Thank you.”

 

As soon as the other doctor had left, she moved over to her tray of supplies. “Okay, Zack,” she said, seeming more relaxed. “We’re going to give you some medication.”

Edited November 16, 2023 by SexualOddity

[MusicaDiabolos]

Amazing xxx

[solitaire-au]

Oh, poor Dale, he’s so badly hurt. You’ve done a great job of describing his reactions and his struggle to contain his emotions. 💔 His torment is really palpable. I feel so bad for him! 😢

And it’s so typical of Zack to downplay the situation and say things were “a bit worse” in combat! 🙄 His allergic reaction in combat was much, much more severe than what Dale saw! If he sees how bad it actually gets for Zack, it’s going to kill him inside. 😭

[SexualOddity]

Aw you guys, thank you. I just had a crappy day at work and your comments definitely cheered me up.

 

And thank you @solitaire-au, you had a big impact on this chapter, both because of your patient explanations of medical information and your awesome beta feedback. I feel bad for Dale too, even though his pain is mostly my fault 🫣 But I’m looking forward to delving into his character more and some of the other reasons for his reaction.

[SexualOddity]

According to Suzie, Zack would eventually need to take tablets, and eye drops, and a nasal spray. That all sounded like a massive pain in the ass. Just like in Wutai though, his dose in the infirmary was a single injection. Suzie stuck it in through the tube in his arm. Injectable meds were faster, she said, but they wouldn’t be instant. For some reason, civilian drugs never achieved the kind of rapid results that SOLDIERS got from the consumables they took on the battlefield.

 

With frequent pauses for Zack’s sneezing fits, Suzie described the war that the medical department had been waging since his arrival.

 

“R and D gave him an allergy attack so bad that he couldn’t use his crutches, and then they wouldn’t let you give him meds?” Dale’s speech was slow, like he doubted his hearing, and there was a dangerous smoothness to his tone.

 

“It wasn’t… entirely without scientific justification,” Suzie admitted. “Medication could confuse the results of their drug trial. That is a legitimate concern, but they’re not going to be able to run another test today, so it’s not a reason to deny a short-acting drug.

 

“Even if they could get a prototype ready,” Suzie continued, handing Zack the tube of ointment, “and, Zack, even if they disregarded your personal comfort— which they should not— if they want valid data for comparison, you need to recover before they trigger a new reaction. Realistically, that’s not going to happen today, especially with the building as it is and especially if they withhold medication. They’re actually more likely to be able to move quicker now that they’ve let us medicate you. It’ll improve the odds that you’ll be ready by tom—”

 

“HK’ISHHHew!” Lifting his head from the back of his arm, Zack blinked at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open. “HAH…Hk’ISHHHEW!” He sniffled, eying the cream that remained on his finger. “Makes me sneeze,” he muttered. “Of course it does.”

 

“Bless you,” Suzie said, handing him the box of tissues.

 

Zack took the box, but he set it in his lap and sniffed some more, not wanting to rub off the ointment that he’d just applied. Almost as soon as he touched his septum again, his nose started twitching. He rushed through the rest of the application, his lips clamped shut as he held his breath. “Uh…h’hh’huh…Hhhh’HAHT’CHEW! Hh’HAHT’TCHYEW!”

 

“Bless you,” Suzie repeated, studying him. “How are your feeling?”

 

He felt like shit.

 

He felt like his body was wrapped in a haze of fog, and snot, and pain.

 

He felt like someone had switched the tissues in his box for sandpaper, and he’d rubbed off all the skin on his nose and upper lip.

 

He felt like he could sneeze a million times, but the constant, agitated buzz would never release its grip on his sinuses.

 

He shrugged. “Better than when I came in.”

 

“Okay.” Suzie’s lips pinched in appraising frown. “Well, we’ve exhausted everything I can offer to relieve your symptoms. But you will feel better, I think, once the antihistamines take effect. Leaving the infirmary might help too, given that the smell of antiseptic has been an irritant.”

 

“Thank you,” Zack said, scrubbing at his eyes. “I do feel better. I uh…” He gave a despairing laugh. “I don’t really wanna think about how I was when I got here.” He could feel Dale’s eyes on him as he continued to speak to Suzie. “But I’m pretty sure I owe you one.”

 

“Well, don’t thank me too soon. I have to keep you here a little longer.” Suzie’s tone was grim. “I need to have a serious discussion with you. With both of you.” She turned to Dale. “Actually, let me get you that chair.”

 

Dale’s watched her as she brought it over, his posture guarded and tense, but, when he sat down, he gave a stiff little nod. That was bordering on effusive for Dale.

 

“Okay,” Suzie studied Zack for a moment before she sighed, returning to her own seat by the computer. “We need to talk about your bruises.”

 

Zack sat up straighter, his forehead creasing in a wary frown.

 

“The SOLDIER team are under the impression that, had your bruises been from Wutai, they would have faded by now, given your accelerated healing. Is that correct?”

 

Dale didn’t wait for Zack’s response. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes boring into Zack’s. “When was the attack?” he pressed.

 

“They’re not from Wutai.” Zack lowered his gaze, nervously shifting his weight off his exit wounds. “I, uh… I had a bit of a fall.”

 

“When was this?” Suzie fired back, quick.

 

“Um… In the lab, when they were measuring my reaction. After a bit it was…” He laughed, but he wasn’t sure why. “It was a little tough to hang on to the crutches.”

 

“And no one, at any point, thought it was a good idea to suggest that you sit down?” Dale’s words were ground out through clenched teeth. He raised his heels as if he were ready to spring from his chair.

 

Not having anything better to offer, Zack shook his head.

 

Dale’s head whipped towards Suzie. “Do you have a ‘scientific justification’ for that, too?”

 

Suzie met his gaze without flinching. “No,” she said, softly. “I don’t.”

 

Dale kept his eyes on her, but when he sat back in his chair, his grunt suggested that he found that a satisfactory response.

 

“I’m alright, buddy,” Zack said, “It’s just a few bruises, I…”

 

“No,” Suzie said, and she repeated herself when Zack looked her way. “No. You have to take this seriously. You have a penetrating wound on a synovial joint. That’s a complex injury to begin with. And you’re not just looking for a return to normal function. You want enhanced function out of that hip. That is so far from guaranteed after an injury like this.”

 

Zack fidgeted as she fixed him with the kind of revealing stare that Dale would have been proud of. Actually, he probably was proud, if his resounding hum of agreement was any measure.

 

“Your physio will be better able to advise on the impact of your accelerated healing, and also on it’s limitations,” Suzie added, pointedly, “but, I’m fairly certain he’ll agree that you cannot be having falls like that.”

 

Zack didn’t answer— mostly because he didn’t have an answer. All he had was a fucked up body and a fundamental inability to think things through.

 

Holy shit, he was tired.

 

“You’ll be keeping the wheelchair for a while,” Suzie continued, softer. “Just, use it, okay? And even once your mobility returns, if you’re having an attack like the one you had today, you’ll probably want to sit on the floor.”

 

“Yeah,” Zack murmured. He wrapped an arm around his ribs and slumped in his chair.

 

When silence fell over the room, the prickling sharpness of the antiseptic became difficult to ignore. Zack twitched and wriggled his nose, subduing a tickle with a fast and forceful sniff.

 

“I need to discuss the way you’ve been treated in the lab,” Suzie whispered. “Can I do that in front of Dale?”

 

“Huh, er… What?” Zack lifted his head.

 

Over in the corner, Dale had jerked up in his seat. Suzie blinked and turned her head. She hadn’t intended for Dale to hear, Zack realised. As a SOLDIER, though, Dale had amplified hearing, so she was never going to get far with that plan.

 

Dale doggedly avoided Zack’s eyes, probably thinking that his facial expression might influence Zack’s decision. It didn’t make any sense, though. Zack didn’t need to see his face to know that every muscle in his body was primed.

 

“Yeah…” Zack said, uncertainly. “We can talk in front of Dale.”

 

“Do you think they were unnecessarily rough with you?”

 

“What?” Zack said. “Sniff! No.”

 

“Not all of your bruises were from your fall,” Suzie said. “Some had the appearance of… handprints… and this…” She brushed her fingers against the tape on his arm, “went in with some considerable force.”

 

“Oh.” Zack looked down at the tube that was still stuck in him. It was a little sore, and deep blue and purple bruises were visible beneath the tape and around its edges. “Yeah,” he said, “k’hh’kinda dihh’ih’Heh…ISHHHEW! Ihhh…HEHISHHEW!”

 

When he looked up, both Suzie and Dale were leaning in, their eyes wide and expectant.

 

Zack frowned. “You know that I can handle myself, right?”

 

“That’s not the point!” Dale snapped. His face had flushed, and the veins in his neck stuck out in furious ridges.

 

“No one was trying to hurt me,” Zack protested, scrubbing fiercely at his nose. “I had this…” He gestured at his body. “This monitoring kit that they needed to t’hh… to take off. I think they… heh! Theyyyy…” Giving up, he took tissues from his box and cupped them in front of his face. His nostrils flared. “heHhh’HH’HH’HH… HEH’HEHSHEW! HEH’SHUH!” He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the tissues to his nose. “They took some blood, I think,” he croaked. “Just needed to keep me still while they were doing it.” He lifted his elbow, checking his arm. “And they might not be great at putting these things in.”

 

“It does look to be correctly placed, at least,” Suzie said, grudgingly. “But I’ll be having a conversation with them.“

 

“You sound like Mika,” Zack muttered.

 

“I pick my battles better than Mikaela.” There was a sharp edge to Suzie’s tone. “But I have limits to what I will tolerate, and you should, too.”

 

She softened after that, as she gave them a whole litany of instructions. Dale asked for pen and paper and started taking notes. It was such a typical Dale move that Zack would normally have rolled his eyes, but, fuck it, it was nice not to need to pay attention. He wasn’t even sneezing that much any more—they’d started coming in ones and twoes instead of extended fits— but, man, it was taking it out of him. Every time it happened, he found himself swaying in the chair, his chest aching and his head feeling full and foggy all over again.

 

When Suzie talked about his stitches, she kept stopping to check that Zack had understood. There was bruising around them, apparently. Why not? According to Suzie, there was bruising fucking everywhere. Nothing had ruptured, yet, but, from what she said, his sneezing fits had put pressure on the entry wound in his hip. She said he should practice tensing his abdomen and bracing his hands against his stitches every time he felt a sneeze coming. Feeling a sneeze coming had been a pretty constant state for Zack since Wutai, but he figured that wasn’t a helpful comment, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

“I want you to check your stitches regularly, and report any signs of the wound pulling apart. I’ll insist they provide a mirror in your clean room to make it easier, as well as a kettle or some sterilised water for your nasal irrigation.”

 

Zack sniffed, rubbing at the corner of his eye as he tried to make sense of her words. “Er… my clean room?”

 

Suzie’s expression blanked. Her mouth fell open. “No one told you?”

 

It was going to be an airtight room up in the labs, with special filters to keep out allergens. R and D were preparing it, and Zack was going to live there until they were done with their drug trial.

 

“It’s the only way they can make sure that their results aren’t influenced by the smoke in the building,” Suzie explained.

 

“How long?” Zack croaked, his eyes shut as he squeezed at the bridge of his nose.

 

“I don’t know. And most likely R and D don’t know ei—”

 

“HARR’ISHHHUH!”

 

“It will depend on how you react to their—”

 

“ISHHHUH!”

 

“Their prototype.”

 

Zack sniffled, slowly releasing the pressure of his hand against his hip. He stared at the floor. The throb in his head was concentrating near the centre of his face— a lance that went right between his eyes.

 

“Are you taking this in?” Suzie asked, gently.

 

“Yeah. I got it.” He launched his used tissue into the trash can with more force than was required and tried not to sneeze again.

 

“I will be doing my best to keep track of this, especially the way that the Science team treat you. And I’m happy to be a point of contact while Mikaela is away.”

 

“Thank you,” Zack said, meeting Suzie’s eye. “I do appreciate it. I’m just…” He hitched his shoulders in a shrug. “I dunno. Tired, I guess.”

 

“Yeah,” Suzie said, with a solemn nod. “Like I said: it’s a really shitty day.”

 

Zack gave a huff of humourless laughter and scrubbed his palms up and down his face.

 

“I’ll get you those shower caps,” Suzie said to Dale as she stood. “Do you want to run down to the pharmacy on your own? Zack can stay here? Limit his exposure?”

 

Dale grunted in agreement, and she handed him Zack’s prescription on her way to the door.

 

“Listen, Zack, this testing…” Suzie paused, turning back. “If… if something seems wrong, or if you’re worried about anything, please tell someone. Call me, or call Mikaela. Or get someone to call on your behalf. I don’t care how physically strong you are or how much you think you can handle. Even if it’s just a matter of principle, it’s important that you’re treated right.”

 

“Suzie.”

 

Dale’s voice was quiet. Had Zack not been enhanced, it might have been right on the edge of his hearing.

 

Considering he was this tough, burly dude, Dale had weirdly soulful eyes. Until he trusted someone, they were a reserved mask, but, once his guard came down, they could carry far more meaning than ever made it into his words. For the first time, he held Suzie’s gaze with an expression that was open and disarmed, and he gave a slow dip of his head, not breaking eye contact.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

Suzie’s eyes sparkled when she smiled. “Any time.”

 

After the door had shut, Dale’s mouth turned down and he bunched his lips, nodding in approval. “Well… I like her.”

 

“That’s good, man,” Zack said listlessly, rubbing at his eyes, “because twenty minutes ago I thought you were gonna start throwing punches.”

 

“Oh, pipe down. You know I wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He stilled suddenly, and his expression darkened. “Would take some fucking restraint if I saw anyone from R and D right now, though.” His eyebrows drew together as he nodded in Zack’s direction. “I’d been wanting to ask what happened to your face.”

 

Zack raised a hand to his cheek, where he knew he’d hit the floor of the pod. He’d forgotten about it, but it was still painful to the touch. “Not like they clocked me,” he said. “I just gotta start thinking ahead.”

 

“Not gonna argue with that, Zack. But I ‘ain’t laying this at your feet.” Dale spoke gently, but there was a rigid determination in the way he held himself. “One minute you’re in peak condition. Next, you can’t rely on your legs. It.. uh…” He wet his lips. “It takes some adjustment.”

 

“Yeah.” Zack swallowed and fiddled with his armrests. “Listen, man… I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads up about the wheelchair. That was…” He watched as Dale visibly stiffened. “I think I set you up for a hard time.“

 

“It’s not…” Dale’s lips pinched shut, and he closed his eyes briefly, giving a tiny shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be worrying about this.”

 

“Dale—“

 

“Drop it, Zack.”

 

Zack slid his hands underneath his thighs. He chewed his lip, watching Dale stare at the floor as though his eyes could bore a hole in it.

 

In the silence, some of Suzie’s last words finally registered. Zack blinked. “Why is she getting shower caps?”

 

Dale grunted with laughter that sounded genuine. “You didn’t listen to a word we said, did you?”

 

Zack shrugged, helplessly. “Sneezing. It’s pretty distracting if you do it enough times.”

 

“Okay.” Dale stretched out his neck. “I’ll catch you up, but primary objective— we gotta get you somewhere as smoke-free as possible and keep you there. So… you need meds,” he said, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. “I’ll grab over-the-counter stuff too, but… uh... I need to know where you’re going. ‘Cause if you’re coming to the dorm, I already have some supplies.” He hesitated. “But I will take you to your room… Obviously… If that’s what you want...”

 

“Yeah. Uh…”

 

‘The dorm’ was Zack’s old room in Second Class quarters. He’d bunked there with Dale and four other Second Class SOLDIERs until promotion had moved him on. The guys in that room were still his best friends. Zack’s days were spent working, training, and escaping to the slums to see his girl, but, if he ever had spare time after all of that, then he’d be in the dorm. He spent almost no waking time in his own room, but he wasn’t sure that waking time was really what he wanted.

 

He sniffed sharply and turned his head. The itch that had been on standby was launching its assault. Shoving a fist against his nose, he squashed it into temporary submission. “Yeah. I dunno, buddy. I might need to catch a nap. Sleep was a mess on that last assignment. I think… erm…” He ran a hand back and forth over his forehead and sniffed. “I think I’ve been awake for a long time.”

 

“You know you can sleep in the dorm, right?”

 

He could, in theory. Personnel stats had never recovered from the mass desertions two years earlier, and the bed that Zack had left had never been re-assigned. Everyone still referred to the empty bunk as Zack’s, and they’d decided that if someone else was moved in, they’d fight the poor guy. That wasn’t true, hopefully, but it was kinda sweet regardless.

 

“Mine’s the top bunk, remember?” Zack said, wincing at the wheelchair in which he sat.

 

Dale shook his head, his expression gently chiding, “Don’t be an idiot. You’d sleep in my bed.”

 

Zack sniffled and pulled tissues from his box. He did like being surrounded by people. The buzz of conversation felt good even when he couldn’t participate in it.

 

Dale cocked his head as though he were trying to read Zack’s face. “You know no-one is gonna judge you, right? For being out of action.”

 

“Yeah. No, I… I know…” Zack grunted as the itching in his nose swelled and spread across his whole face. Resigned, he tensed his abdomen, braced his hip, and cupped his tissues to his nose with his free hand. “Huhhh’uh’hh’HH… HUHh’UHTchew! HuHhhUHTchew!” When he caught his breath, he groaned. A very insistent fluttering held fast down the length of his nose. This was gonna keep going. “Yeah, let’s… uh…let’s… sniff! Let’s go back to the dorm.”

 

“Okay,” Dale said, standing with uncharacteristic energy. “Requests?”

 

“Tihh-tissues. HURRESHHEW! Sniff! Lots of tissues. And lozenges,” Zack said, wiping underneath his septum.

 

“Got lozenges already. Bunch of ‘em.”

 

“Uh, no… wait…” Zack said, his voice gravelly and nasal. He pressed at his nose with a fist. Dale always bought menthol lozenges. Those things had made him sneeze even before this crap went down. “I don’t…uh…”

 

“No menthol. I know. I keep a separate stash for you.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Zack scrubbed the backs of his fingers under his nose, shifting in his seat to pull out his wallet.

 

Dale held up a dismissive palm.

 

Zack sniffed. “Dale, no. You spend too much of your own gil buying this shit for us.”

 

Dale stared at him, wearing his trademark expression of stern patience. “Put the wallet away.”

 

“That’s for your family, man. Don’t… ESHHEW!” Grabbing his hip, Zack crunched towards his shoulder. ‘HEH…ESHHEW!“ He huffed in frustration and gave a run of successive sniffles. “Just take the damn wallet, dude. I gotta blow my nose.”

 

Dale snatched it from Zack’s hands, more roughly than he probably intended.

 

“Good,” Zack said, still sniffling as he helped himself to fresh tissues. “That better be lighter when I get it back.” He blew his nose, but the tickles dancing behind his eyes felt all too fucking stubborn. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and hunched in the chair with his elbows on his knees.

 

“Ten minutes, Zack.” Dale’s voice was gruff and comforting. “Let me sort out these meds. Then we’ll get you home.”

[MusicaDiabolos]

Awww what a sweet friendship xx great update!

[solitaire-au]

❤️

I really loved reading “Humanity.”

“Monstrosity” builds on its foundations and introduces even more wonderful character development.

I love the story and the characters, both canon and OCs, so, so much, 😍 and I’m so glad to be able to contribute to it! I’m in love! 🥰

[SexualOddity]

17 hours ago, MusicaDiabolos said:

Awww what a sweet friendship xx great update!

Thank you so much for letting me know you liked it Writing about relationships is my favourite.  And Zack and Dale’s friendship in particular has a special place in my heart.

 

9 hours ago, solitaire-au said:

❤️

I really loved reading “Humanity.”

“Monstrosity” builds on its foundations and introduces even more wonderful character development.

I love the story and the characters, both canon and OCs, so, so much, 😍 and I’m so glad to be able to contribute to it! I’m in love! 🥰

Aw Solitaire, at the risk of making this into a love fest, I feel so very lucky to have you contributing to it. You’ve made this story so much richer, and your insightful thoughts and questions have really helped shape the OCs and the narrative. In general, I think you’ve made me a much better writer, and, as if all of that wasn’t enough, it’s just really damn FUN to explore and add to a world I love alongside someone who is awesome. So, thank you! (Plus, I now have a much better idea of where to put commas than I did before we met 😅)

 

[SexualOddity]

Dale didn’t explain the purpose of the shower caps until they were outside the elevators.

 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Zack said, his face buried in tissues.

 

“Your hair is what’s ridiculous,” Dale muttered from behind him. There were gentle tugs at Zack’s scalp as Dale shoved his long, black spikes into the plastic.

 

“Don’t pretend you’re no’hht jealous… h’Hh… Heh’ISHHUW!”

 

“Whoa. Okay. Uh… Can you hold still?”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Sniff! Sorry.” Zack rubbed his fist against a fresh prickle in his nose. “I’ll try.”

 

There was a pause. When Dale spoke again, his voice was unusually quiet. “Are you sneezing ‘cause of me?”

 

“Oh… No, dude, I’m… hh’Hh!” Zack gave a forceful sniff, and his shoulders slumped. “I think I’m sneezing ‘cause of everything.” 

 

“Well, you’re done,” Dale grunted, taking a long backwards stride. “Apparently, that should keep the smoke out of your hair.”

 

“Ohhhh… okayyy… HahISHHUH! Ugh.” 

 

Exhausted, Zack tipped his his head back and snuffled into the tissues at his face. He felt fucking revolting. His eyes were itchy and sore, and he couldn’t keep his nose from running. 

 

Gross. It was trying to drip right down the back of his throat, too. He sat up with a noise of disgust, coughing and sniffing and spitting into the tissue.

 

Dale studied Zack as he pulled on his own shower cap, his lips and eyebrows pinched in a frown. “I thought the meds would work better than this.”

 

“Yeah… sniff! I had some in Wutai,” Zack said, trying to decide what to do with the tissues. “Helped some. Not all the way.” In the absence of a better option, he folded the soggy wad with a grimace and shoved it into the bag to deal with later.

 

They’d agreed that they would move fast: head down, no looking back, no stopping for anything. It made sense. If he had to last until the dorm without switching out his tissues, though, Zack was sure as hell gonna blow his nose first and grab a fresh, dry bundle. He struggled with the crutches on his lap, trying to dig into a new box of tissues without dropping the bag or the crutches, or letting anything touch the entry wounds in his thigh and hip.

 

“I got those,” Dale said, removing the crutches and leaving Zack with just the bag of supplies.

 

After Zack had blown his nose and taken as many tissues as he could hold in one hand, they arranged the crutches. Eventually, they found a position where Zack’s pain was at a minimum and he could keep both hands free — one for tissues and the other to brace his wound when he sneezed. As they set the second crutch under Zack’s arms, his gaze drifted up to Dale’s shower cap.

 

“Sexy,” he smirked, nodding in its direction.

 

Dale narrowed his eyes.

 

“Just get in the fucking elevator.”

 

—

 

They’d decided that, once they were outside the training rooms, Zack would need to hold his breath. The SOLDIER floor had been a nightmare even at four in the morning, when everything had had a few hours to settle. This time, there would be training actually taking place, and, from what Dale had said, smoke drifted visibly from the doorways every time anyone went in or out. With so much of the stuff in the atmosphere, they were pretty sure that Zack was going to have a reaction, even after an antihistamine. 

 

In reality, it didn’t take that long.

 

As soon as he wheeled his chair into the elevator, he felt different. His eyes prickled. His nose burned. Dread formed a slow, creeping pull on Zack’s body, and he slid his hand over his stitches.

 

“Dale…” he said. “Uh… I think I…”

 

The doors shut.

 

“Hh… HUHISHHHew!”

 

“You okay?” Dale barked.

 

“No… I… don’t… Huhh… Hh’Hh… HRRRIHSHHEW!”

 

“Pinch your damn nose!”

 

Zack did as he was told, hunkering over the crutches and squeezing his nostrils through the tissues. He wanted to hold his breath, but his ribs jerked, forcing his lips open and air in through his mouth.

 

“HEHK’KNNT!”

 

Oh fuck, no.

 

He’d forgotten how that much hurt. Pain burst in his head, and his chest, and his throat, even into his ears. He froze, willing it to retreat, and then released his grip, cupping his tissues over his face. He could live with the extra smoke getting in through his nose, as long as could sneeze without seeing stars.

 

“Hhh… HH’ISHHYEW!”

 

“Zack…” Dale growled.

 

“Can’t,” Zack gasped. A deep, immovable buzz settled in the centre of his face, already growing more intense. He blinked. “Hh… hh… Hh’hh… Hh…”

 

For a moment Dale was silent, but then Zack heard the heave of his breath, and his footsteps followed — slow and deliberate ‘thunk’s that moved behind the wheelchair. When he spoke again, his words were quick, but his tone was resolute.

 

“Just hang on tight.”

 

“Hhhh… Hh! Hh! HEHt’TCHYEW!”

 

The bell rang, and the doors opened with a rolling swish. Zack kept his eyes shut. Outside, there were gasps of surprise and people trying to ask questions. Some people swore. There were bursts of nervous laughter. Dale barked orders, clearing everyone out of their path. Zack felt like his nose and eyes had been smothered in Gongagan stinging weeds, so he didn’t interact at all.

 

True to his word, Dale was fast. The chair rattled as they tore along. Zack pressed his arms tight against the bag and crutches.

 

“Ehh… SHYEW! Hehhh… Ehh’Heh..! Ehh’SHYEW!”

 

He did try to hold his breath then, knowing they would pass the training rooms, but, holy fuck, he wanted to keep on sneezing. Ignoring the discomfort from his chapped skin, he gripped his nose. He clamped his lips. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. He jerked in his seat as his chest shook painfully, wanting a hitching breath and prepared to fight Zack to get it.

 

They stopped. The keycard reader bleeped. This was the door to the barracks.

 

Almost fucking there.

 

Boots hammered against metal and wheels span with a smooth whir. They were moving again — away from the communal area, away from the fresh smoke.

 

Wait for the door, wait for the door… Where was the fucking door?

 

Swoosh.

 

“AHHHR’RISHHHYEW!”

 

“Holy shit. Well done.”

 

Zack didn’t even attempt to acknowledge that, knowing there would be more sneezes. He reared back, letting tears flow freely over his cheeks.

 

“RAHh’SCHEW! HAH’SHYEW! Hah’USHHAH! Hah’ahh… Haah… AhSCHYEW!”

 

It was a smoother ride once they’d made it to the barracks. Dale powered forward, but the chair stopped shaking, and the turns were slick. Zack’s face continued to burn with itches that he couldn’t scratch.

 

“Hah… ahh… ‘SHEW!”

 

“You gonna be okay?”

 

“Yehhh… Yeah… Hhp’TISHHUH!”

 

He was going to be okay. He found he needed to tell himself as much as Dale. After the past couple of days, he did not like sneezing fits. Not ones like this that would not end. 

 

This wasn’t like the lab, though, and it wasn’t like Wutai. It wasn’t furious. It wasn’t frantic. His stomach and chest weren’t heaving like bellows, driving sneezes from his body with maximum force. He could breathe. He could mostly think. He’d had meds. They’d made it to the barracks. There shouldn’t be any more fresh smoke in here, only what had filtered through the doorway or been carried on the clothes of SOLDIERs passing through. He could handle that. He was going to be fine. He just needed to sneeze a bunch first.

 

“AHHt’ISHHUH! Hah’aah’hah… HahISHHHUH!”

 

The tissue boxes were bulky in the bag on his lap. There were fucking four of them, just sitting there. He would have given his sword arm to tear into the packaging, but the only thing he wanted less than sneezing into wet tissues was to drop all his shit and have to stop in the hallway with the lingering smoke.

 

“Hh’hh… Hh… Hh..!  Hh’AHTCHuh! hh..! Hh’hh…”

 

“Stay with me, Zack.” Dale’s voice was commanding, but it was edged with stress. “Just a little longer.”

 

“Hih’TCHUH!”

 

“We’re almost there.”

 

“Huht’TCHH! hih! hih! hih..! Htch’ISHHHUH!”

 

“Oh…. what the fuck?”

 

It was Marc. Oh thank Odin, it was Marc. Zack even forgot to be embarrassed; he was so damn grateful to have made it here.

 

When they stopped, someone crouched before his wheelchair. Zack pried his eyes open, only to find his vision blurred by a film of itchy tears. 

 

He blinked repeatedly, and then he couldn’t help but grin. Peering up at him was a Second Class SOLDIER. His skin was fair, his jaw was narrow, and his face was otherwise almost entirely obscured by a regulation helmet.

 

Kunsel.

 

Oh, Kunsel.

 

Zack’s favourite fucking know-it-all, with his busy-body attitude and his weird compliance with the dumbass uniform rules.

 

Zack wanted to hug him. He would have gone right ahead and done it, if he’d have dared to move the sodden tissues from his nose. Hell, he would have kissed the guy too, if it hadn’t meant covering him in snot. Neither were real options, though, and he jerked away, sneezing now an immediate necessity.

 

“ISHH! HAHT’ISHH!”

 

“Back up Kunsel,” Dale said. 

 

“HahtISHHhEW! Hhh…. hh… huh! Hh!”

 

“They didn’t feel like fixing him in the infirmary?“ Marc said, disbelief clear in the pitch of his voice.

 

“He’s going to R and D later. They’re making some sorta—”

 

“AHR’ISHHUH! HAHR’ISHHUH! HUHt’SHUH!”

 

“Shit!” Dale hissed. “Someone open the door.”

 

“TCHYEW! Hhh… Hahh… HAP’Tchyew!”

 

Their voices were tense and urgent as they went inside. Dale was in drill sergeant mode, directing the guys and firing off information. Zack didn’t bother trying to listen. He couldn’t quit sneezing, and, knowing what Dale was like, he was better off out of it anyway.

 

“ISHH! Hh… Ahh… ISHhh! Hh… Ht’tchyew!”

 

When his lungs began to return to his own control, he let his jaw hang slack, breathing heavily through his mouth. He held the disgusting, used tissues with one hand and fumbled in the bag of supplies with the other, distracted when a tap started up in the bathroom.

 

“Let me.” Hooking his fingertips through the handles, Dale dragged the bag from Zack’s lap. “Crutches won’t break, just drop ‘em. One of us can pick ‘em up later. Here.” He tossed a box of tissues in Zack’s direction and peered at the remaining supplies. “You need these meds now?”

 

Zack shook his head, sniffling as he took tissues from the box. “Had those ones in the inf-hh! infir’ih’Hih..! He rushed to clamp a hand against his hip. “HihAHTCHYEW! HuhHAHTCH’YEW!”

 

Dale leapt backwards so fast that he almost crashed into Kunsel, hovering near the bathroom door. Dale threw up his free hand. “Get a fucking wash!” Dale snapped. “The longer you stand there gawking at him, the worse he’s gonna be.“

 

“It’s fine,” Zack said, dragging his palms over his cheeks. “I’m fine.”

 

“I wasn’t asking you.”

 

“You’re not fine, Zack.” Kunsel’s voice sounded choked, like it was coming from the back of his throat.

 

Zack couldn’t summon an adequate response, so he just stared at the reflective surface of Kunsel’s helmet, watching his friend linger for a moment before he crossed to the wardrobe beside his bunk. 

 

“I need your keycard, Zack,” Dale grunted, “so I can grab the rest of your meds.”

 

“Oh, y’hh’yeah… t-hh!-thanks… Hih’TCHH!” Hands occupied with the keycard and his stitches, Zack hunched over to sneeze against his pauldron. He sniffed aggressively and scrunched his nose.

 

As soon as Dale had caught the keycard, he looked over his shoulder. “You need to bag those up,” he said, out of nowhere.

 

When Zack turned his head, Marc was at the bathroom door with his uniform in his hands. He was wearing sweatpants, and his black hair was wet and loose around his sinewy shoulders.

 

Zack cocked his head. “Did you… wash your hair in the sink?”

 

Marc shrugged. “I’m just falling in line here, buddy. Ask Dale.”

 

“Bin liners are in our bottom drawer,” Dale continued, ignoring them. “Get Kunsel to bag his, too.” He hesitated. “I gotta go to Zack’s room…”

 

“Yeah, I got things here.” Marc dismissed Dale with a flick of his hand and regarded Zack with a grimace. “You realise you’re entirely fucking swollen? You look like you’ve been punched in the damn face.”

 

“Might as well have been,” Dale muttered.

 

Zack heaved an exasperated sigh. “That’s not true.”

 

Marc’s eyes followed Dale for a moment, before he shook his head like a re-activating mech. “Gimme the pauldrons and your scabbard,” he said, beckoning with his fingertips. “I’ll stick ‘em in the wardrobe for now.”

 

Zack felt absent-mindedly at his back. It was only when his hand hit the ribbed nylon of his turtleneck that he jolted upright. “Shit!”

 

Marc snapped to attention. “What? What?” he said, his eyes open in question and his palms spread wide.

 

Dale sprang back from the doorway, and Kunsel poked his head out of the bathroom with a mass of bubbles in his hair.

 

“What happened?” Dale demanded, as the door slid shut behind him.

 

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just… Fuck.” Zack bit down on his lip, shaking his head. “I left… my… HEHtTCH! I left my sword in the Science labs.”

 

Dale’s brow furrowed. He held up Zack’s keycard. “This get me up there?”

 

“Yeah. Sniff! Level 67. That okay?”

 

“‘Course,” Dale said. “I’ll lock it in your room.”

 

“Whoa, whoa.” Marc held up a hand to Dale before turning to Zack. “You’re going back later, right? Pick it up then. It’s not like you’ll be doing any fighting.”

 

“It was Angeal’s sword.” Dale said, softly.

 

Marc shut his eyes, his expression clearing in recognition. “Right,” he said. “Okay. But — uh —“ He glanced at Dale, his expression turning thoughtful. “I’ll go.”

 

Dale lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows.

 

“You should take care of things here, buddy,” Marc said. “You’ll do a better job than I would.”

 

Dale returned Marc’s gaze, side-long. He folded his arms. “He needs his meds from his room,” he said, slowly, narrowing his eyes, “and you’ll hafta bring him some clean clothes in a bag.”

 

“I think I can handle that.”

 

Dale’s eyes flicked across to Zack. “You eaten?”

 

Zack shook his head.

 

“Get him something from the mess hall before it shuts.”

 

Marc blinked. “Any more orders there, chief?”

 

“Stop being an ass, and do as you're told?” Dale suggested, but his eyes twinkled. He and Marc had always understood each other.

 

Marc’s face broke into a wicked grin. “I'll give you one out of two, how's that?” He addressed Zack over his shoulder as he pulled back the wardrobe door. “What’m I getting you, kid?”

 

“Uh… s’hh’sandwich? HEHt’ISCHHuh! Sniff!” Zack coughed and tried to clear his throat. “‘preciate this, man. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. All good.” Marc said, stuffing his uniform into a bin liner.

 

Dale edged past Zack to hand Marc the keycard. Then, he pulled the shower cap off his head and held it out.

 

“You’re not serious…” Still knelt in front of the drawer, Marc stared up at Dale.

 

“You’re damn right, I’m serious. Assume you remember how much smoke is out there?” Dale jostled the thing in Marc’s face. “You can take it off after you leave the SOLDIER floor.”

 

“Oh, well, that’s fine then,” Marc said, dramatically, snatching the thing as he stood. “It’s only the people I know who’ll consider me a laughing stock.”

 

“Hey, buddy.” 

 

Zack turned to see Kunsel at his side, dressed in civvies and rubbing a towel against his short, brown hair.

 

“You need this?” he asked. There was a knowing edge to his tone.

 

When Kunsel lifted a trashcan, Zack pulled himself upright. “Oh, fucking hell, yes. Thank you.” He ditched the tissues he’d been holding at his face, along with the pile he’d been rapidly accumulating in his lap. “Shit, Kunsel, I’m such a mess,” he said, with a grim laugh.

 

Kunsel patted him on the back and turned to toss the towel in the direction of his bunk. “Here, let’s get you on a bed.”

 

“No!” Breaking from his talk with Marc, Dale took an adamant stride towards them, only to stop short and glower from a distance.

 

“What do you mean, no?” Kunsel bristled.

 

Dale spread his arms, splaying his stubby fingers. “He can’t get on a bed in those clothes! You wanna get smoke all over his sheets?”

 

Kunsel’s eyes flicked between Dale and his lower bunk. “That likely?”

 

“I’d say it’s pretty damn likely, Kunsel, yeah,” Dale fired back. “It takes almost no smoke to set this thing off, and Zack’s been past the training rooms in that uniform.”

 

“Dale,” Marc said, softly insistent.

 

“I don’t care.” Zack sagged in his chair. His words ran together like a drawn-out sigh. “I’ll keep sneezing, whatever. M’sitting on exit wounds. I just… I wanna lay down.”

 

“And do you intend to sleep at some point, Zack?” Dale spluttered. “Because if you’re reacting to the bedding, then I don’t see that happening!”

 

Kunsel lifted both his hands to the sides of his head. He shut his eyes, as if trying to summon some patience. “Okay. We can’t fight about this now.” He dropped his arms. “Do we have spare linen?”

 

Dale gave a slow blink of understanding. The tension fell from his shoulders, and his boot thumped the floor as if the release of energy had made him stumble. “We do have linen,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Top drawer.”

 

“Right.” Kunsel said. “So, Marc’ll bring his stuff, and while Zack’s getting changed, I can switch out the bedding.” His gaze shifted between the three of them. “Any objections?”

 

“Yeah, man.” Zack rasped. He pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. “You don’t hahh-have to… HAHt’CHHh!”

 

Kunsel rolled his eyes. “Any sensible objections?”

 

Marc didn’t answer. His attention stayed on Dale.

 

“It’s a good plan, Kunsel.” Dale spoke stiffly, but his nod was definitive.

 

“Great,” Kunsel huffed air through his pursed lips before addressing Zack. “Bed, then. You want a hand with your boots?”

 

Zack shook his head, trying to subdue his ticking nose with sniffles as he unclipped his pauldron.

 

“Zack,” Dale warned, “you are gonna hafta start accepting help.”

 

Fully dressed now, with his hair in the shower cap and a bin liner in one hand, Marc ducked low as he passed and tugged down both of Zack’s boot zips. “Oh, look at that.” He turned as he stood, his arms stretched in mock innocence. “My hand slipped.” He grinned, waggling his bushy eyebrows. “Back soon, idiots.”

 

Zack rolled his eyes as the door shut, but he supposed he could kick off the boots now, so that was a win. He pressed his right toe to his left heel, but when he tried to push the thing off, the pain was hot and sharp and sudden. He seized his hip, clamping his lips shut to smother a moan.

 

“Fuck!” Kunsel spat.

 

By the time Zack managed to sit up straight, Kunsel’s hand was on his back and his eyes were wide. Dale was still at a distance, but he was slack-jawed and staring.

 

“You’re hurt worse than I thought,” Dale said, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

 

“No, guys… it’s…” Zack stared at the floor, his body suddenly heavier. “I gotta f’hh! Figure out what I can still… HAH’TCHIH! Still do. Sniff! But it isn’t that bad.”

 

Kunsel scoffed. Dale’s expression turned murderous.

 

“I’m serious,” Zack said, wincing as he stretched out his leg. “The leg’ll heal… sniff! And the rest is just a bunch of sneezing, really.” 

 

Dale wrenched away, stomping to the wardrobe that he shared with Marc and muttering to himself as he grabbed a washbag. Zack fought the urge to roll his eyes. He and Dale had been playing this tired old game for years. 

 

If Zack knew how to fix something, he’d fix it. If he didn’t, then he’d rather not dwell on it. He might feel crappy in the meantime, but there was always the VR room or the gym. When he worked his body hard enough, eventually his mind had to take a back seat. By the time it had the energy to switch back on again, he was usually sweaty and exhausted and feeling a whole lot better.

 

That had never been alright with Dale, for some reason. Dale insisted that everyone dwell on everything all of the time, preferably out loud. If you refused, as Zack did, he spent most of his life pissed at you. It was a shame actually, because Zack liked Dale. He was kind, despite the gruff exterior, and there probably wasn’t a better guy on the Planet to have in your corner. Still, Zack wasn’t gonna change, and neither was Dale, so Zack had spent much of their relationship trying to stay out of his way.

 

“Hey,” Kunsel said, jolting Zack out of his thoughts. “How much can you move this foot, buddy? Need to get this thing off.”

 

Zack silently tilted his boot, lifting his toe. Even that fucking hurt. He didn’t know why he cared about the stupid boots, but it felt like surrender. He’d promised Mikaela and Sephiroth that he was gonna tolerate his own weakness, though, so he tried to shut off his brain. There was nothing wrong with his arms or hands, however, and he took great delight in shoving Kunsel off when he tried to unfasten his remaining pauldron.

 

“You having my bed?” Kunsel suggested.

 

“Uh… Sniff! Can I?” Zack leant over the side of his wheelchair, dropping the pauldron and his harness to the floor. “I’m gonna need to sleep.”

 

“C’mon, man,” Kunsel said, with soft reproach. “You think you have to ask? You spend most of your time in here sitting on it.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m not u’hh’usually this sn’hh! snotty… Hh..! HttChHSHUH!” With a grunt of frustration, Zack blew his nose and tossed his tissues in the trash.

 

“Think the bed can handle it, buddy.”

 

Zack wheeled his chair opposite the bunk, and sniffled as he sized up the gap.

 

“I gonna help you over there?”

 

“No,” Zack insisted. “I can do that with one leg.”

 

Kunsel’s raised his eyebrows dubiously.

 

“No bullshit,” Zack said, lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Been mostly on the crutches. Done a lot of up and down.”

 

Apparently accepting that, Kunsel gathered Zack’s stuff. He looped his wrist under the armrests of the crutches and piled everything else in a precarious heap, boots on top of pauldrons. There were bumps and shuffles as Kunsel fussed in the wardrobe, and Dale’s tap started running in the bathroom.

 

“Change your mind about that help, bud?” Kunsel asked, leaning around the side of the bed.

 

“No, it’s just...” Zack screwed up his face, rubbing his knuckles under his septum. “Ugh… Figured I should probably sneeze… hh! first… H’TCHUH!” He cleared his throat and scrubbed a fist at the side of his nose. “Decided I’m gonna try harder not to fall on my… huh… hh..! HEH’SHEW! Sniff! My ass.” 

 

Zack blew his nose, and, for a blissful moment, the tickles died down. “Right,” he said, sitting up straighter and pulling the shower cap off his head. He had his hands steady on the armrests and had just begun to ease himself upwards, when his face fell. “Oh. Shit.” He sank back into the seat, squeezing his hand against his hip. “Huhhh’hhh… Heh..! Hh’hh…”

 

Fuck.

 

It was gonna take a while.

 

—

A.N. If you’ll forgive me an indulgence… I felt compelled to dedicate this chapter to @Sequoia because of her definitely-not-normal level of commitment to having Kunsel carry those crutches over his wrist. I think you are wonderful Sequoia, and talking writing and random research questions with you is an absolute joy.

Edited December 16, 2023 by SexualOddity

[solitaire-au]

Ohh, I loved the extra additions where the guys are upset when it starts to sink in how bad Zack is suffering, Dale and Kunsel especially.

Dale was clearly having a hard time. In between having to take charge, being angry about how much Zack is trying to downplay the severity of his situation, and the distress he felt about being reminded from events in his past, he was really worked up about everything.

I liked how Kunsel was doing his best to try and find a solution when Dale was starting to overreact, Marc was trying to get through to Dale as well, and Dale eventually realised his outburst wasn’t helping Zack at all. 

And Zack finds it really hard to have to accept so much help from his friends when he’s used to being so independent.

I think sometimes people finding it easier to accept help from people they don’t know, or don’t know well, and *really* hard to accept help from people who matter to them.

It was annoying and undignified for him to have needed help from the lab assistant in R&D to get his things off, but a *lot* more emotionally fraught when he had to accept help from his closest friends.

Writer and researcher Brene Brown talks about the courage it requires for us to be vulnerable in front of other people.

Zack has no problem throwing himself into incredibly dangerous combat situations, but when it comes to exposing his vulnerabilities to others, especially the people who are important to him, he has great difficulty in finding that kind of courage.

🥰 ❤️

[SexualOddity]

Thank you so much  I agree… with all of that really. It might be that I’m doing Zack a disservice because we never really see him in a position where he’s getting this kind of physical assistance (beyond being bailed out in combat), and there is a scene where he accepts (emotional) help from his girlfriend, but I just get the impression that getting physical support in particular would be a really hard pill to swallow. I think that’s because he is usually in the role of being the capable one, and, as you said, he’s very independent. He does a lot of making himself feel better without much outside input. He’s also very much all-action. I think he’d have a hard time confronting the fact that he can’t help himself.

 

 

Edited December 21, 2023 by SexualOddity

[SexualOddity]

Hey all (and Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy holidays etc), just a quick note to say that I’ve updated the content warning at the start of the fic after having firmed up some plans for the direction of this story. If it’s helpful to have a heads up in advance, you might want to check that out on the initial post.

Thanks, Oddity

—

 

 

The standard ShinRa ringtone was not chosen for its gentle melody.

 

When the shrill, repetitive peal broke through Zack’s dreamless sleep, his heart raced. His muscles clenched. His hand shot to his back, seeking his sword, but slamming into the mattress instead.

 

“You’re in the dorm, Zack,” Marc said, with the calm indifference of someone who saw people wake in this way on a regular basis. “Noise is your phone.”

 

Zack slumped against the bed, dragging his hand over his face as the base of his old bunk came into focus above him. He needed to change that fucking ringtone. He kicked at the blanket with his good leg and dug in his pocket for his handset.

 

As he rocked forward, the muscles in his abdomen seized. His breath stopped in his lungs, and he fell back onto the bed with a strangled gasp.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he wheezed, waving the guys off as all three of them sprang from the desk. With a series of stuffy sniffles, he raised his shoulders enough to check the time on his still-blaring phone. “I just need more meds. Talk to Mika?” he asked, hitting the answer button and holding the phone out to Kunsel.

 

“I will.”

 

Dale scooped up the phone before Kunsel could take it or Zack could object. Holding it to his ear, he marched off into the bathroom without a backward glance.

 

There was a swish as the door shut behind him.

 

Fuck.

 

Pressure in Zack’s sinuses made his brain feel dull, but, with some concerted effort, he took advantage of his amplified hearing, managing to pick out words amongst the muffled hum of Dale’s voice. It was move born more of optimism than expectation though, and he wasn’t surprised when the whoosh of running water followed, drowning his hopes of eavesdropping just as it drowned out Dale’s speech. He shut his eyes.

 

Great.

 

Mikaela was the only person Zack knew who was genuine competition for Dale in the overbearing friend department. On top of that, she had the advantage of actual medical knowledge, which she took great delight in using against Zack whenever the opportunity arose. He wasn’t sure what the pair of them teaming up might mean for him, but it wasn’t anything good.

 

“Which meds, kiddo?” Marc said, drawing Zack’s attention. “I’ve still got the ones from your room.“

 

“Er… yeah. Them, and the other bag from the infirmary. Thanks, buddy.” Zack gripped the mattress with one hand and braced against the wall with the other. Clamping his lips shut to stifle a groan, he heaved himself upright, and his nose immediately started running, and tickling. Oh shit, really fucking tickling.

 

Tissues. Definitely tissues first.

 

“HURISHHHEW!” His free hand occupied with bracing his hip, Zack drove his head towards his shoulder as he groped blindly on the bed.

 

“Right here, Zack.” Kunsel knelt on the mattress to retrieve the box from where it rested behind him.

 

“Thhaaa…. Ahhh… AHHISHHHEW! HahhhSHEW!” Zack pulled out a fistful of tissues and shoved them under his nose, not even bothering to unfold them.

 

“Fucking hell,” spat Marc, his eyes wide as he handed over the bags of meds. “You cannot seriously still be going.”

 

Zack gave a grunt of miserable laughter and shuffled to drop his legs off the edge of the bed. “I sneezed so many times in Wutai. I did not expect to be b’hh’beating my r’hh… my record… back… back here-HAR’ISHHHUH! HUH’ISHHHUH! HUH’SHYEW!”

 

He sagged, wincing as he rubbed at a stuffy ache across the bridge of his nose. “Be easier if I didn’t have to be so fucking violent about it,” he moaned. “That’s an allergy thing, right? I didn’t sneeze this hard before?”

 

Kunsel laughed. “Oh yeah, ya did, buddy. Sometimes right in my ear while I was holding a weapon.” He sank down on the bed next to Zack, offering a freshly-filled canteen.

 

“Oh.” Zack said, surprised. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t notice when it was one or two. Bit different when it’s a hundred,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for this.” He tipped the canteen towards Kunsel in acknowledgement and drank the water in long, eager gulps, only stopping when he had no choice but to take a breath through his mouth.

 

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he found Marc staring down at him, his expression serious for once. “I hope you’re exaggerating, kid,” he said. “A hundred sneezes?”

 

“Oh. Uh…” Zack rubbed at his forehead as he cast his mind back to the containment pod. “M’probably not, really. I dunno. I didn’t count.”

 

“Shit, Zack.” There was a hush to Marc’s tone. “Their test sounds fucking awful.”

 

“Yeah, it was, uh…” Before he closed the latch on the canteen, Zack’s gaze dropped briefly to his lap. “It was something.”

 

The pelting water in the bathroom slackened and then stopped before Dale stormed back into the room. He crossed the distance to Kunsel’s bunk in three giant strides. “Your phone,” he said, thrusting it in Zack’s direction.

 

“Thanks…” Zack hesitated. “Is she… alright?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Zack studied Dale as he reached for the phone. His other hand was squeezing a flannel so tightly that water dripped from his fist.

 

“Use this,” he said, holding it out.

 

“Okay..?” Much as Zack tried, he couldn’t read much in Dale’s demeanour beyond general annoyance. “What’s up with Mikaela?”

 

“She’s worried about you, Zack,” Dale growled, folding his arms. “Also, R and D are incompetent assholes, and ShinRa aren’t listening. As fucking usual.” He flicked the backs of his fingers at Zack, shooing him into action. “Put that on your eyes.”

 

Since he didn’t have a useful response, Zack submitted. When he pressed his face against the flannel and tipped his head back, some of the water seeped out onto his skin. It was an instant relief — cool against the stinging heat that still prickled in his eyes. He gave a slow sigh and then sniffed hard, trying to keep his running nose from ruining the moment.

 

“You sound so damn bunged up,” Dale said. “Do you wanna do that nasal rinse?”

 

“Ugh, no.”

 

“You won’t feel better if you don’t do something about it.”

 

Dale’s voice was patient, a coaxing nudge, but Zack wouldn’t have felt much less enticed if it was the grenade itself that he’d suggested sticking up his nose.

 

“No,” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “It’s awkward; it feels weird, and it’s just gonna make me sneeze a bunch more. ‘Sides, it needs boiled water. What’re you gonna do? Get it from the mess hall and then have to wash and change all over again?”

 

Dale shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “If I have to.” His brow furrowed. “Actually, there’s sterile saline in the first aid kit. How much would you need?”

 

“I don’t want it,” Zack said. His voice came out muffled and congested, but there was finality in his tone. “Suzie said it only had to be once a day.”

 

Dale gave a dissatisfied grunt, but he let it go. “Meds then. You up to date with everything?”

 

Zack sighed and pulled the bags onto his lap. “Hadn’t got that far.”

 

“Let’s get that far,” Dale said, with gentle authority. “You need water?”

 

Zack shook his head absently and took a piece of paper from one of the bags. “What’s this?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Marc said, pausing on his way back to his laptop. “I forgot. I found it on your bed with the bag of meds. Didn’t look like your scrawl.”

 

Zack unfolded the page with a frown. In the centre was a note. It appeared to have been hastily written in a small, slanted hand.

 

Humanity is a gift. Every part of it. Don’t forget.

 

“What is it?” Kunsel asked, peering at the words over Zack’s shoulder.

 

“Sephiroth,” Zack said, warmly. He read it again and gave a thoughtful grunt before tucking it into his pocket. “He’s… I dunno. Kinder than you’d think. Guess he left it when he dropped off my meds. ”

 

“Shit, kid,” Marc said, with a bark of laughter.

 

“What?”

 

“Planet’s favourite war hero runs your errands, now?”

 

Zack laughed and rubbed at his eye. “Eh, not usually. I’d had sedatives in Wutai. They wouldn’t let me loose around the building.” He scrubbed his fist against the tip of his nose. “Plus, we knew I didn’t get on too well with this floor.”

 

“Meds, please.” Dale said, rapping a knuckle against the metal bed frame.

 

“Alright, alright.” Zack unpacked the rest of the bag and set about taking the pills for his leg and the new ones for the muscles in his chest. Seated at his side, Kunsel scooped up blister packs and tucked them back into boxes as Zack finished with each med in turn.

 

“Need food with those antibiotics.” Dale threw him the still-wrapped sandwich that he’d been too tired to even look at earlier.

 

Zack was sorely tempted to roll his eyes, recognising Mikaela’s influence. He was ravenous, though, and he did want the meds to work, so he unwrapped the sandwich and took the biggest bite he could stomach while feeling like his head was trapped behind a solid wall of snot.

 

The bread felt big and bulky in his mouth, and he was too stuffy to taste much, but, then, it was hours-old canteen food, so that probably wasn’t a huge loss. Anyway, just the sensation of putting something in his stomach seemed like a step closer to feeling normal again.

 

“I know a phone call is probably a big ask right now,” Dale said, pulling up a chair opposite the bed, “but we need to think about letting Aerith know.”

 

Zack gave a despairing groan. His eyes drifted downwards in a dismal survey of his body. “How the hell m’I gonna explain this?” he said, dropping his head against the heel of his hand.

 

“She knows what’s up,” Dale said, quietly. “She’s dating someone in the military.”

 

Zack sat back with a sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Didn’t really wanna drive that point home.”

 

“Invite her up here,” Dale suggested. “Spend some time together before you have to go to R and D. We’ll see she gets treated right.”

 

“Can’t happen.” Zack said, tonelessly, already anticipating questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer. This was his life lately. Nothing but secrets — ShinRa’s secrets, Aerith’s secrets… All he seemed to do was cover for shit that wasn’t his own.

 

A sharp ‘ding!’ in his pocket saved him from any interrogation, but the relief he’d felt rapidly evaporated. He was supposed to be waiting for a message, he remembered. A slow sinking feeling settled over him, and he had to rub the sweat from his thumb before he could unlock the screen.

 

He sat silently with the handset, as if staring at the words could make them say something different. He licked his lips, that bite of sandwich suddenly unsettled in his gut, and he drew in a long, slow breath.

 

“They want me back.”

Edited December 30, 2023 by SexualOddity