Monstrosity (Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Zack)

[SexualOddity]

Thank you for letting me know you thought so 😊

I’m glad it worked out that way. Felt like a lot of pressure to get this one right. 😅

Thank you for all your help with it.

 

 

[dw124]

Oh my god, poor Zack! I'm halfway tempted to go back and count how many sneezes that was. Hope he gets some kind of relief!

[SexualOddity]

Aw thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it. It will get easier on him (a bit), I just couldn’t resist the temptation to interpret ‘biological enhancement’ as ‘ridiculous allergies’. 😅

[SexualOddity]

A.N.

Hey there, people-who-have-read-this-far, hope you are doing well. Just wanted to, first, explain a random incidental reference that you won’t get if you don’t know the Final Fantasy games.

Marlboros - They’re this monster in the game that has this bad breath attack that inflicts all kind of status ailments on you that make it harder to fight.

As a irrelevant aside, I actually have this kinky headcanon that that attack also causes sneezing and streaming eyes and noses etc (kinda like a pepper spray effect) but it’s not really compatible with this story, because if that were the case I guess someone would have come up with a drug to combat those kind of symptoms before now, and Zack could have used that. Anyway, maybe it’ll be an unconnected fic one day, who knows.  😅

 

Secondly, I put a link on the other fic, but since this one is related I figured I’d drop one here, too, in case anyone is interested. Basically, Humanity (the story that precedes this one) is now available in an audio version on Youtube with real sneezes, Part 1, Part 2

 

The narrator, NaturistSneezer, also helped me out with some beta reading for this chapter.

 

—

 

The scrape of plastic on metal probably meant that another box of food was descending through the clean room bars, but Zack didn’t look up.

 

“Erm…” He cleared his throat, but none of the tone returned to his fucked up voice. “Can you, uh…heh! HehhISHHHUH! ISHHHUH! Sniff! Snifffff!”

 

Oh. He was getting congested again. Fucking perfect.

 

“‘SHYEW! K’SHYEW! SHYEW!”

 

He kept his eyes shut as he rolled onto his back, conscious of the light overhead.

 

“Can you just l’hh’leave it on the…floor?” he managed, in a gasp. “Huh’EHTchyew! Eh’TCHYEW! HUH’EHSHYEW! Ugh!”

 

The assistant’s hesitant voice came through from the opening above. “We were told—“

 

“I know,” Zack croaked. Exasperated by his symptoms, he was unnecessarily rough when he scrubbed his tissue at his nose. “Sniff! I can pick stuff up now. Sniff! I’ll get it later.”

 

He didn’t hear anything else from the guy, so he assumed he’d dropped the box and left. Zack rolled back over, facing the wall. He wasn’t hungry. He would have taken the water, but getting up from the bed seemed too steep of a cost.

 

He let his tissues fall to the mattress and helped himself to more, moving quicker when the itching in his nose deepened into an angry burn.

 

“Hh’TISHHUH! ISHHUH! HUHT’ISCHHUH! ISHUH! HIH’SHUH! HT’SCHYEW!”

 

Somewhere in the middle of his fit, the screech of his ringtone added to the racket. As his breathing steadied, Zack tilted the phone so he could see.

 

Dale, again.

 

It was his second call since Zack had been back in the clean room, and, according to the log, he’d been ringing every half an hour since Zack had left for the test. Zack sighed and felt for the bed controls, trying to avert his eyes from the overhead lights.

 

The moment the bed was raised, his nose resumed its perpetual drip. He sniffed furiously, trying to interrupt the endless flow, but he only made himself cough, and coughing made his whole face tingle.

 

“Hehh…Heyyy’ISHHHHUH!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

 

Soon, there wouldn’t be any visible blanket under the balls of used tissue. He dropped another bundle anyway.

 

“HYY’ISHHHEW! ISHHHEW! ISHHHEW! HUH…ISHHHEW!”

 

He stiffened, his toes curling as he wiped his nose yet again. He’d have to use some of that ointment soon, but the thought of triggering even more sneezing was about as appealing as being belched at by a marlboro. He’d prefer to endure the discomfort of the tissues. Marginally.

 

After the little fit concluded, he wiped his eyes and nose and managed to type a text message response.

 

I’m alright, buddy. I’ll call you tomorrow.

 

Within seconds he received a reply.

 

If you’re alright, why are you not picking up?

 

Zack stared at the phone, hoping that inspiration would offer a suitable answer. Instead, the screen lit up with another call.

 

Fucking hell, Dale.

 

Well, that had been a pointless exercise.

 

He switched off the phone entirely and lowered the bed, sending tissues tumbling to the floor when he dragged his blanket over his shoulders.

 

—

 

The buzzer that jolted Zack from his doze seemed to last even longer than usual, but it was probably exhaustion playing tricks with time again. He clasped his hands over his ears and curled inwards. When there was a click from the door, he jumped up, feeling more exposed than was rational for a guy who had a camera on him twenty-four hours a day.

 

He creased in two with a shuddering groan. One day, his reflex actions were going to catch up with his current level of mobility.

 

“You’re here,” he ground out, once the pain in his hip had diminished. “In my room. Not just a voice.”

 

He sounded worse every time he spoke, he noted, bitterly. Now his voice was muffled with congestion as well as grated by a million sneezes. He swallowed, but it did little for his dried-out mouth or his itchy throat.

 

Charisse still stood near the door, her body stiff and her face blank as she watched him. “I thought you’d need help to take your readings.”

 

There was something in her expression that he couldn’t place, but his nose ran, and his head throbbed, and he didn’t have the energy to try to figure her out.

 

He grabbed his box of tissues and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “I would have m’hh..! I would have m’hh’huhhh-managed—Aah..! AH’ISHHUH! ISHHUH! ISHHUH! HUHT’SCHYEW!” He let his head fall back, eyes closed and mouth slack, unable to do much but wait for the eye-watering itch to topple into more sneezing. “Hh…hh! Hh! HhhRISHHUH! ISHHHUH! HAH! ISHHHUH! ISH’SCHYEW!”

 

“You’d have been able to keep both hands on your wheels, would you?” she asked, glancing pointedly at his hip as she took his vitals monitor from the desk.

 

As he released his stitches, Zack’s lips twisted in a dissatisfied grimace, but he didn’t offer a response.

 

On the way back to the bed, she stooped to pick up the box of food. Zack battled with himself when she set it on the bed, not sure whether to prioritise water or dry tissues. Ultimately, he settled on water and lots of determined sniffs.

 

His nose prickled the fucking second he removed the bottle cap. He’d have exploded with frustration if only he could have managed to speak.

 

‘D’hh-Doc!” he gasped, shoving the water into her hands. “AhhISHHEW! ISHHHEW! HUHT’ISCHHHYEW!” He gave an almighty sniff that made the bridge of his nose ache and reached out eagerly to accept the bottle. “Can I take something?” he pleaded, once he’d had a long drink and blown his nose. “Now that the test is over? Antihistamines?”

 

Charisse frowned, looking up from the wires she was unpacking. “You’ve had some,” she said. “Antihistamines and corticosteroids. They were injected through your venous cannula before you had your shower.”

 

“My..?”

 

“This.” She lifted his arm, nodding at the taped-in tube before she wrapped his bicep in a blood pressure cuff. She was rougher than usual. “The antihistamines were administered at a half dose because you’d already had some in the prototype drug, but we can’t safely give you more today.”

 

“Guess I missed that.” He glanced at his arm, not bothering to raise his voice over the hum of the tightening cuff. “I don’t think they worked,” he said when the noise had died down. “Snffff! Or, maybe they did. I guess I was worse earlier.” He took some more tissues with his left hand as Charisse unwrapped his arm. “It’s not like I haven’t been this allergic before. It’s just, I dunno…” As his eyes settled on her, one side of his mouth lifted in a dejected smile. “I don’t feel well.”

 

She examined his face. “Let’s see what your readings look like,” she said, finally.

 

Zack waited as she placed and removed the clip for his finger, but when she took the temperature probe from the back of the device, he held up a hand to stop her. “Hold on,” he said, clenching his fist and pressing it under his septum. “Hafta sneeze first.”

 

There was just a hint of impatience about the way she held out the tissue box.

 

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. With his left hand on his hip, he tried to combine reaching for tissues with covering his face, and he succeeded at neither. An involuntary moan escaped the back of his throat. Tissues would have to wait.

 

“HEYYISHHYEW!-ISHHYEW!-ISH’SHYEW!”

 

“Are you done?” Charisse asked when he finally reached the tissue box.

 

He shook his head wordlessly. The itching in his sinuses monopolised his attention, but he didn’t think he’d imagined her irritated sigh.

 

“HEH…HEY’ISHHEW! ISHHEW! ISHHEW! HEH! HEHH! HEHHH’ISHHSHYEW!”

 

“Done now?”

 

“I think so.” He sniffled, watching her from behind his tissues. Safer to wipe his nose than to blow it, he decided, suspecting she’d be annoyed if he triggered another sneezing fit. “Are you tired?” he asked, turning his head forward so that she could stick the probe in his ear.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“You’ve been here nearly twelve hours. If my brain is working well enough to keep track. And you seem a little—”

 

“Why did you toss the white card?” she asked, suddenly. Though her voice was soft, there was tension in it, as if it were taking some effort to control the tone.

 

Zack looked up, wanting to study her face, but, even when the thermometer beeped, she didn’t remove the probe from his ear. He dropped his tissues onto the bed and sniffled, guiding her hand backwards so he could turn his head.

 

For the past year, it had been Zack’s job to evaluate potential SOLDIER recruits. He could be decent at reading body language when he remembered to think about it.

 

Charisse was not an easy study. Even in her relaxed moments, she was closed off, but there were still a couple of things that he noticed: the crinkle of her lips as her mouth pinched—he’d seen that before, but it was intermittent—and, when her hand was relaxed, he thought he’d caught a little tremor in her fingers. As soon as his gaze shifted downwards, though, she drew them into a fist.

 

His chest gave a gentle hitch, his body pulling him back into its tickly haze. He huffed in frustration and reached for more tissues, sliding his left palm over his stitches.

 

Fucking…allergy.

 

He forced a neutral expression, even as his upper lip tried to curl.

 

“Can you just give…me…one…” His mouth resisted forming words. He tried harder. “Sehhh’heh! HhKHT’TCHH!” His head whipped sideways, and he clamped the tissues to his face. “HAH’HSHHH! HSHHH! HAH’HISHHYEW! ISHHEW! ISHHH! HEH’HISHHYEW!” He gave a weak cough. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

 

“I turned off the gas.” Charisse’s voice was hollow at his side.

 

Zack shot upright. His eyes darted over her face, searching her expression. He almost expected her to crumple in laughter and admit the whole thing was a joke.

 

She couldn’t have forgotten…

 

A knot tightened in Zack’s throat as he lifted his gaze. He flinched at the ceiling lights, but he didn’t catch the green flash of the camera’s LED before his eyes slammed shut. “HAHT’ISHHH! ISHHH! ISHH! HUHT’ISHHUH! ISHHHUH! HUHT’ISHHH! The HUH! The l’hh! li’hh’ighhh…HTCH’CHYEW! TCHYEW! HAHT’ISHHHEW! HEHT’SCHYEW!”

 

“I’ll dim them later. You owe me an explanation.” Her quiet little voice raised all of the hairs on the back of Zack’s arm.

 

“Does…Htch’TCHYEW! TCHYEW! HTCH’ISSHYEW!-ISHHEW! Does Hojo know you—ISHHH! you did that? Sniffff!”

 

“I told him.”

 

Zack spluttered, his brain stumbling as he tried to keep up. “You..?”

 

“If I hadn’t,” she said, “you would have been in there for ninety minutes with the gas that was already in the pod. Once Hojo knew about the interruption, he recognised that any further data would be compromised.”

 

“Will you lose your job?” he blurted, clutching damp tissues to his nose. Well-paid work was everything in Midgar. Self-sufficiency was impossible. The ground was raised metal, and what soil was available wouldn’t sustain plant life. With Upper Plate rents as expensive as they were, most people couldn’t last a week out of employment without landing in the slums below, stripped of the ID cards that gave them access to the socially acceptable part of the city.

 

“I think I convinced him that I had his interests at heart,” Charisse told Zack. “The worse your reactions, the longer it will take for you to recover between tests. And the President has some wild expectations about how fast we can complete this process.” Angry creases formed around her lips and on her forehead. “None of this is an answer to my question.”

 

Zack lifted his head again, checking the camera. “TSHYEW! SHYEW! SHYEW! HEH’TSHYEW! EHT’SHYEW! HEH! USHH! HEH’USHHH! USHH! HEH…USHHHUH!”

 

“It’s off, Zack. Stop looking at it.” She snatched up the box, tugging out tissues and thrusting them into his hand.

 

“ISSHUH! HEHT’ISHHUH! HEHT’SHUH!” He panted, his abdominal muscles sore and twitching with overuse. A tingly pressure high in his nose suggested more sneezing, but, after a swallow, he decided that it was safe to speak. The words dried up when his gaze fell on Charisse and her lab coat. “I…”

 

Charisse’s eyes blazed. Her shoulders hunched. “If you give me some bullshit, consider yourself on your own in here.”

 

He pulled back.

 

This was genuine, he realised, as he lifted his head from his tissues. It sure as hell wasn’t friendly, but it was a real interaction like the pair of them had rarely had. There was no wall of formality between them, no camera.

 

He stared at her in silent evaluation. “Hojo acts like he owns SOLDIERS,” he said, finally, in a hoarse snarl. “Like we’re another batch of his fucking monsters.” His eyes snapped to her face when he realised what he’d said. Rural sensibilities were hard to shed, and he didn’t swear in front of women. He faltered, wanting to offer an apology. He had a tough time spitting out the words.

 

Charisse just watched him, waiting for further explanation. No one in the city ever seemed to care about the language thing.

 

“Hojo didn’t create me,” Zack spat. “He doesn’t decide what I do.”

 

He risked a glance at her face when she didn’t reply.

 

“This is the stand you choose to take?” she said when he met her eye. Her voice was still soft, but it was dangerous. “Did this help? Anyone?”

 

“Why’s he even have that second card?” Zack shot back, his anger tearing free of his restraint. “He sees the red one; he knows the drug didn’t work. Is there a reason for the white card? Or does he just want me to beg?”

 

Charisse threw her arms wide. “Who fucking cares, Zack? Just play the Goddamn game!”

 

Zack’s mouth fell open. If he’d had a point to make, he forgot it. He only remembered to bring his tissues back to his face when his nose dripped.

 

“You don’t think there should be two cards?” Charisse raged. “Well guess what? You can hold up both at once. Stop being such a fucking princess.”

 

Zack stared at her. The only response he managed was a strangled grunt.

 

“Get your shit together.” Charisse’s words were tight and constrained and full of deadly meaning. “Don’t put me at risk again.”

 

A clinical air returned to her demeanour, and there it was: the barrier that usually separated them. “Do you want me to help you get to the bathroom before you leave?”

 

“Wha—“

 

“I think you heard the question.”

 

Still heady with adrenaline, Zack took a moment to respond. His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to help me,” he said, with some certainty.

 

“I have a job to do,” she said, bringing his wheelchair closer. “You need to brace your stitches. While you’re sneezing this much, it’s going to be difficult for you to wheel yourself around.” Her eyebrows twitched upwards in expectation. “Are we doing this?”

 

He watched her face as he shuffled into the chair, but there was nothing to read there but cold professionalism.

 

By the time he’d finished in the bathroom, his crutches were propped against the wall. Even the used tissues were gone from his bed and the floor. He regarded Charisse before he zipped the tent back up.

 

“I don’t have the first idea what to make of you,” he said as he washed his hands. His tone was thoughtful, but he could admit there was a touch of resentment in the way that he narrowed his eyes.

 

“Will you fill out these charts now? I’ll take the tablet with me to charge. Someone can lower it down to you at eleven o’clock.” Her hands smelled like sanitiser, and it pricked at his nose.

 

“HT’TCHUH! TCHUH! HihTCH’UH! HTCH’ISHHHUH!”

 

“I’d been meaning to say,” she said, as he took the tablet, “the lights will switch off at eleven thirty. You’ll have half an hour after the final buzzer to complete your readings and charts and finish anything else you need to do.”

 

“Oh.” Zack looked up, remembering how he’d been plunged into darkness the night before.

 

“I realise it’s unpleasant for you, not having the lighting under your control,” she said, as if she’d been reading his mind. “I can probably get you a torch, or a clock to keep track of the time. We don’t have light switches in here.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Zack sulked. “Because your usual inmates can’t operate them.”

 

He didn’t know whether he’d expected an answer, but he didn’t get one. She wheeled him closer to the bed, but, apart from his sneezing, they stayed silent as he finished his log.

 

“Thank you,” she said, absently, when he handed the tablet back to her. “I’ll speak to you in the morning.”

 

“Wait,” he said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “What happened to the monster?”

 

“We found an alternative facility.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“That should improve the quality of your sleep.” She smiled when she said it, but there was no emotion in her voice.

 

“Right,” Zack said. His shoulders sagged with a weight that he didn’t understand, but there was no time to probe his reaction. His eyes were losing their focus as the tickling in his nose resurged. His chest heaved with a painful breath. “HAH..! HAHISHHHUH! ISHHUH! H’ISHHUH! ISHHH! HUH! ISHHUH!” It hurt his hip, but he slumped over, resting his elbow on his knee as he pressed tissues to his face. “HUH! ISHHUH! ISHHEW! Hh! ISHH! HUH! TCHYEW! H’TCHYEW! H’TCHYEW! HUH! TISHHYEW!-ISSHEW! HTCH’TCHYEW!“

 

Zack waited, making sure his lungs weren’t about to fill again. He didn’t check, but he figured Charisse had gone. The room was quiet when there wasn’t a roar in response to every sneeze. He sat up, listening to the hum of the air filter.

 

“Well,” he said, his eyes tracing the scratches in the far wall, “wherever you are, I guess you’re happier without all the disruption.”

 

For the first time since he’d arrived in the clean room, he took Kunsel’s tablet from where he’d stashed it in his bag, and he loaded up a movie. He didn’t watch, but it was nice to hear the voices.