Challenge Pairing: Seph/Zax, because Drakon asked me to. O_o

Fic Title: Enough

From the moment I met him, I always knew what would happen to Zax.

The first time I shook his hand, on our first day in the field of Wutai, I knew. I saw myself, years from then, standing over him with a bloody sword while he lay dying on the ground. I reeled away from him at the vision. When he asked me if I was all right, I cast around for something to tell him. For what do you say to a man for whose death you will be responsible? I didn't know. I brushed him off with an order to do something, and tried to get away.

My ploy worked, but only for a few weeks. Then he began to spend more and more time near me, becoming indispensible. I liked him as a person, as an officer, as a man. Sometimes I would forget what I'd seen, and we would talk for hours about anything: the war, the latest orders from ShinRa, what we wanted to do when the fighting was over.

Then I would remember again, and I would order him away.

He came to my tent one such night after I'd dismissed him, perplexed. He wanted to know if he'd said or done something wrong, something to offend me. I still didn't have an answer for him. How could I tell him? And would he even believe me? 'I just realized that I'm going to kill you someday' wouldn't exactly be what he expected to hear.

'I should apologize,' I said to him, 'When I shook your hand, I felt something...startling.'

'I'm not sure I understand, Sir.'

I realized then what I could try; it would be a gamble, and could be more harmful than good if it failed, but there was no other choice for me at that point. I crossed to him, put my hand behind his head, pulled him up to me.

His mouth was warm, sweet with the taste of army beer and tobacco. I have always hated cigarettes, but right then, I learned to appreciate them. I kissed him hard, trying to erase the image of him dying before me. All I had wanted was to put him off the scent of my fear, but then...

Then he began to kiss me back.

Thank the gods he'd closed the tent flap before this. I dragged him backward to the cot that served as my bed, pulled him down with me, threaded my fingers into his tangled black mane. We shed layers of armor, clothing, weapons the whole way until it was

I had had my share of women in the past, and he had always been known as a ladies' man. I didn't know if I was his first man, or if he simply enjoyed the company of both sexes. All I knew was that he was amazing. If there had been any lingering element of that horrible knowledge, it was eradicated by his hands, his mouth, his body on mine.

When we were done—for that night, at least—we lay together, our long hair mingling on the coarse sheets while we caught our breath. I watched him drift into sleep, his ever-present smile still curling his lips. I realized then that I had found the way to forget my vision, to forget the awful fate I knew awaited him.

It was enough.