Warning: The following part of Crisis Core has been edited to include character death that was not a part of actual in-game events. The previous chapter hinted at it, and here it is in full swing. I'm sorry?

-x-x-x-

And on I read

Until the day was gone

And I sat in regret

Of all the things I've done

For all that I've blessed

And all that I've wronged

In dreams until my death

I will wander on

-x-x-x-

Part Twenty

-x-x-x-

My friend, do you fly away now?

To a world that abhors you and I?

All that awaits you is a somber morrow

. . . No matter where the winds may blow . . .

Zack looked sadly at Genesis as he watched him struggle to lift his blade, his breathing loud in the stony room. He watched as the drained man slowly collected himself, brought hardness and focus into his eyes—they had seemed so weary only a moment ago. This was SOLDIER—on the brink of death, still willing and needing to fight. But for what? It didn't need to be this way.

"Stand and fight, SOLDIER 1st Class Zack!" Genesis commanded, hand outstretched, brows pinched. Once again, it became clear to him that this battle would have only one outcome, as the battle with Angeal had had only one outcome. Zack shook his head vehemently. His shoulders sagged and for a moment, he thought the incredible pressure had returned. His heart felt heavy, his mind a mess. Not again, his brain kept supplying. Not again.

"Why is everyone . . . always pushing things on me?" he whispered. It sounded loud in the space between him and Genesis. He didn't want things to end this way, but as he looked up into Genesis's eyes once again he could see the hurt there, the guilt that could never be erased, and as he drew the Buster sword, Genesis's eyes flashed with something that looked like deep regret. Between the flurry of blades, both men had their own visions, their memories linked through what Genesis would call destiny.

"You're holding back," Genesis gasped. "I want a real fight—one deserving of that blade you wield." By that point, Genesis had sustained several critical wounds, and he was nearly doubled over. He had clearly begun heavy defensive maneuvers, all of which lacked the usual flamboyance of his movements during battle. Zack held off out of pity and mercy, but perhaps it was the right thing, the honorable thing to end this all here.

Zack swallowed hard and advanced on Genesis. There was no fear in the man's eyes, just a terrible weariness, the glow of mako dim now. Each breath he drew sounded wet and painful. Zack closed his eyes briefly. He could still hear Genesis's breath, but Angeal's face flashed in his mind.

Then what should an angel fight for, Zack?

Honor can be quite a burden . . . at times.

Opening his eyes, he could see Genesis rush towards him, his terrible yell echoing throughout the vast caverns of the caves all around them, and it was with some sort of effortless out of body grace that Zack moved his arms, swung his mentor's blade, and drove Genesis flying through the room to crash to the floor like a rag doll. For a moment, all Zack could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, but then he heard the soft sobs emitted from Genesis's throat. Slowly the man reached his hand up, outstretched, toward the statue of his beloved goddess. As Zack approached, he watched Genesis's icy blue eyes become wet with the tears of a lost child. They searched his goddess's stony face as if imploring her with his very soul. It was obvious, as Zack knelt by his side, that Genesis was seeing something not of this world, with one foot still in this plane, and the other in the Lifetsream. His chapped lips opened a little, the tears spilled onto his cheeks, and his fingers, so determined, received nothing.

The choked sob of a child left his lips, his chest began heaving more, and he shook his head.

"No, nonono, no," he whispered. "Don't abandon me . . ."

Zack frowned and took Genesis's outstretched hand, but Genesis's chest continued to heave with panic. Around them, the statue began to crack along the goddess's cheek, spreading down her middle, and then fell apart. Zack shielded Genesis from the dust and particles and then, slowly, lifted him over his shoulder, heedless of the blood that began to soak his already dirty uniform. He carried Genesis through the maze of caverns, stopping only once to look up into the sky that showed through the cracks in the ceiling.

The goddess had abandoned Genesis in his final hour, and as he slowly died now, she had turned her face away from him. But Zack would be there. He was no goddess, no Angeal and no Sephiroth, but he would be there. He would make sure that Genesis didn't die alone.

When he had returned to where he had left Lazard and Cloud the sun was nearly gone from the sky and the night was descending. Cloud was propped in a chair, slumped over in it, his eyes wide and staring into Lifetsream, perhaps. Zack set Genesis's nearly lifeless body against one side of it, and, making sure he was comfortable, stood back up and noticed that Lazard was propped on the other side of the chair, breathing shallowly. He knelt by him, staring into the eerie copy of his mentor's face. The light was very dim in Lazard's eyes, and he appeared to have no strength left.

"Shinra attacked us," he whispered hoarsely, his head straining, as it was clearly hard for him to look up.

"Save your strength," Zack whispered, eyes searching Lazard's. But the man turned away from Zack and pointed into the near distance, where a huddled form covered by a white wing lay.

"I got some help. From him . . . over there," he gasped, falling back against the chair. Zack's brows bunched together as he looked, slowly focusing on the form that lay at the base of a Banora White tree. As he rose onto his feet and walked over, recognition dawned over him and a sharp breath escaped him.

"It's you," he whispered to the beast. He could remember it silently standing vigil in the rafters of the church in the Sector Five slums, the way it had selflessly defended both he and Aerith. He covered his mouth, stricken by sudden and overwhelming grief. Here was Angeal's true spirit, here his mentor's true protection, and the beast was dead. He had been silently standing vigil this whole time. Zack began to sob, the tears he'd been holding onto from his fight with Genesis released. And as the sun sank deeper into the valley, just on the horizon and still sinking, he heard a dying breath and turned his back to the dead beast, the spirit of Angeal, to see Lazard's body slump.

"Director!" he cried, going to his side. It was too late. Both were dead. He reached his palm out and traced the features of his mentor's—no, Lazard's—face, and took in a long, shaky breath. It was like Angeal was dying all over again. He felt, at least for a little while, that he wasn't truly alone, and now, as he cried without restraint, he searched the darkening sky. Was he alone? Was he kidding himself? Was Cloud never going to return to him?

He shook his head furiously and stood shakily, looking down at both Angeal copies.

Allllways stay positive, son. When one door closes, another one opens.

He could practically see his father wagging a grease-spattered rag at him. He was always fixing up a vintage car or two. It was his passion, though he rarely left Gongaga.

We're never alone, Zack. I'm lucky, because when I close my eyes at night and I'm laying in bed, all I have to do is breathe deeply and let the voices come to me. But, you know what you can do? It may be hard, but you're SOLDIER. Maybe, just maybe, if you close your eyes and concentrate really hard, you can feel them. Sometimes, if I search hard enough? I can feel my mother. Someone always watches over you, Zack. I'm sure, right now, your friend is with you, right here, in your heart.

"Thank you," he whispered to them. Though Lazard was no longer here, he had done what he wanted to do. He hadn't saved the world or anything, but he helped Zack, helped save Genesis, and helped save Cloud. Zack would be eternally grateful. As he stared at them all he got an idea and nodded his head as if they could all see what it was he was about to do. He walked off and, finding the largest and most mature of the apple trees, climbed up it as he had done to the trees in Gongaga as a child, and picked one for each of them. He didn't know why, but it just felt right. This fruit was clearly special; it was meant to be shared with the ones he loved. When he deposited an apple in each hand, he raised his up.

"Okay, let's eat," he said, voice steady, full of strength he never could have had if he didn't have people watching over him. "Sorry I'm not the real thing, but . . ." And he took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"Is it good?" Genesis whispered weakly. This whole time, he had struggled to continue living, as if something unfulfilled had not yet happened. He didn't have the strength in his limbs to lift the apple to his mouth, but the memories that it brought him made him at least lift the corners of his mouth into a small smile.

"Yeah," Zack answered softly.

"The gift of the goddess . . ."

"This apple?" Zack asked, looking at it in the light of the glowing moon. He noticed some movement from Genesis and looked at him. He was shaking his head.

"Huh?" Zack didn't know what Genesis meant.

"Angeal," he whispered, looking, with guilt in his eyes, at the side of Lazard's—no, Angeal's face. "The dream . . . came true." And as Genesis whispered these words, both bodies of the Angeal copies began to glow and dissipate into a green light, with all that remained being a few white feathers. Zack watched as they drifted past him, swallowing hard. Genesis, capturing one of the feathers, clutched it to his bloody chest.

"Angeal," he whispered, "you deserved . . . a better friend." And just as Zack was about to protest, Genesis's fist opened and the feather fluttered to the floor, his eyes, full of so much sadness before, now took on a strange peace as they slowly closed. His chest heaved no more. Zack looked away, and caught a glint of something white. On the floor, where the Angeal copy had lain, he saw a piece of paper and knelt to pick it up.

How are you?

I wish I knew where you were. It's already been four years now. This is the 89th letter that I've sent to you, but I don't even know where to send them anymore. I really hope that this final letter that I am writing gets to you.

By the way, the flowers are selling very well. They make everyone so happy—thanks to you, Zack.

-Aerith

While he read the letter, he recalled Aerith's face, her sweet smile, and how she had been so patient with him, accepting, silently, that they could only be friends, as if she knew his heart belonged to someone else. He had never discussed Angeal with her, but he knew, in some way, she had known. Call it a woman's—no, an Ancient's—intuition.

He shook his head, reading the letter over again, trying to make sense of it.

"Four years?" he repeated. The possibility of it having been four years since he had last seen her echoed in his brain, at first seeming impossible . . . but . . . when he had considered all that happened since Nibelheim . . .

The strange limbo of timelessness shattered the instant he absorbed those words. As he looked at Cloud and tried to search for signs that time had advanced he saw nothing. Cloud looked the same as the day they had set foot in Nibelheim, when he was sixteen years old, still a mere cadet at the same age Zack had been a 2nd Class SOLDIER. That would make Cloud twenty-years-old now, and him twenty-two. Another dull ache resonated in his chest, and as he looked at the letter once more, he caught the word "final" and, dropping the Banora White apple, looked up at the sky.

"What do you mean, 'final'?" he shouted. The sky did not answer, and the burned remnants of Banora remained still. "Aerith," he sighed, "wait for me . . . not gonna let any more people down." He wheeled toward Cloud, took a deep breath, and with a hardened resolve, lifted the younger man's arm—no longer in his teens now—and hoisted him up over his shoulder. "You're gonna make it too. You got that?" And as he turned to walk toward the Buster sword planted into the dirt, he turned just slightly to nod in acknowledgement of Genesis. He had done what he could for the man, and figured out, in part, what had driven him, what had led him astray. And he had also given him peace. That was enough for Zack, and he hoped it would also be enough for Angeal. The three friends would reunite in Lifestream. One day, he would also reunite with his lover, his mentor. But for right now, he breathed deeply, collected and sheathed his sword, and began to walk away. But as he did so, the light of Lifestream came to collect Genesis, to bring him to his final resting place. Zack rested Cloud on the ground gently and watched as Genesis's body began to lift and slowly disappear into little beams of light.

A paper drifted slowly down onto the floor when Genesis was gone, and Zack gently lifted it.

Even if the morrow is barren of promises

Nothing shall forestall my return

To become the dew that quenches the land

To spare the sands, the seas, the skies

I offer thee this silent sacrifice.

"Loveless, huh?" Zack whispered. He folded up the page, and, along with Aerith's 89th letter and the tattered paper that held Aerith's wish, he let this important paper be deposited in his pocket as well.

Silent wishes, silent sacrifices. Zack considered the words and looked at Cloud's face as he shifted him. Nothing would forestall his return. He had too much to live for, too much to fight for. This last meeting with Genesis had shown him that.

-x-x-x-

So, Gen is dead. I wanted to change this part up a bit because, honestly, I wasn't happy with the way Squeenix treated it. And, also, I did not like DoC one bit. It ruined Vincent's story for me, personally. I just pretend that game doesn't exist. And anyway, I thought it would have been better if Genesis died. Sadder, of course, but better. I like feeling sorry for my villains.

So now I know what you're thinking. "OMG THE NEXT CHAPTER IS WHERE ZACK DIES OH NOEZ". Not true! I mean, yeah, it's pretty much on the horizon, but first I'm gonna have you wade through some more traveling, some more Zangst (Zack angst, yes), and some more memories. I'm really twisting the knife in, here, folks.