Ok, it's been quite a while since I wrote any kind of fan fiction

Author's Note: Ok, it's been quite a while since I wrote any kind of fan fiction. Be gentle, but please, constructive criticism is welcome while I get the swing of things again. This fic will assume that Zack survives (more or less) and picks up from the ending of Crisis Core. I got the idea for this after re-reading LOVELESS. Hopefully I manage to pull this off without sucking too badly. I've already been a little overwhelmed just with this new interface (it has certainly changed quite a bit in the past few years…)

Anyway, it will basically follow the plotline of Final Fantasy VII. With Zack in the picture now of course, and with some changes to the story, so as to make it more interesting. Very Zack/Aerith (naturally!), Cloud/Tifa, and I suppose I'll develop more relationships as I write.

Oh, and I don't own FF7 or any of these lovely characters. Let it be said now. Rating for language, themes, and because this is going to get pretty dark in the later chapters. Be warned!

Chapter One

A New Journey

The last thing that had registered into his mind was release. The skies opened up wide and suddenly, there they were. Those wings; that face. Not just another clone, but him, his former mentor, his own hero. Which, of course, could only mean one thing.

Still, the solidarity of it hadn't quite set in. It was like the feverish, hazy dreams he had dreamt in the midst of childhood illness; the kind of thing that your mind would cook up only while under the barrage of illness and several doses of painkillers.

What Zack Fair failed to realize that he had, indeed, received a heavy dose of something, but it was most certainly not painkillers.

Pain. That was it. Shouldn't he feel it? Only moments ago, he had felt his body being ripped apart. He had seen more blood in those last few minutes than in his entire career as a SOLDIER. The hot, sticky sensation had covered his entire body, relieved only by the short sprinkle of rain that had timed itself so well with his demise.

Demise? Nah.

Why did he feel so funny all of a sudden? How was it possible to feel? Was he a hero? He'd like to think so. After all, he had saved Cloud.

Cloud? Cloud who?

Everything was surreal. Angeal's face was within his view, and his hand extended out. He reached, but suddenly, the image before him shattered, as if the hand of God himself came down and smashed it before his very eyes. Blackness surrounded his vision.

Someone's waiting for you, no? Get up.

What was happening? That pain … it began to spread. Just as soon as he forgot that ripping, burning sensation in his chest, it had returned ten fold.

You have no place in the lifestream. Not yet. There's more to be done.

He thought, 'Why?' Hadn't he done his part? Why couldn't he rest now? His body was so tired and beaten, but the darkness began to lighten and the pain spread further. A dizzying, nauseating feeling spread through his head and Zack began to crack his eyes open, wincing at the blinding, scorching light from the sky above.

You're stronger than this. Get up. Don't you remember what I told you?

In his mind, he began to remember, all at once, the events that had unfolded only hours prior. Faces surfaced and voices floated through his head seemingly all at once, overwhelming him. The barrage of bullets, the shouts of the infantry all around him, his last stand, Cloud's wrenching cry…

Her face. The last thing that he had thought of before seemingly giving up the ghost; her voice, her laugh. His broken promise.

Embrace your dreams. Now's your chance, so get up.

Zack's eyes shot open and he let out a hoarse, agonizing scream.

The rain had ceased long ago, but Aerith couldn't shake the cold, empty feeling that had so suddenly overcome her. She was meant to go up to the plate today, just like any other day, but today… she just couldn't bring herself to do so. Something was wrong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, and the Planet, which normally was abuzz in her mind, had been strangely silent to her questions.

Kneeling on the moist wooden floor of her church, hands wrenched in her lap, she stared blankly at her flowers, the little miracles that defied fate itself just by merely existing in the barren slums of Midgar. For nearly five years now, this was how she spent her free time. To simply reminisce about those days, the happier days that seemed ages ago, when he sat with her in this very church; it brought her a small flicker of joy and hope. But at the end of every day, she had to face the harsh reality that those days were long past, and all that physically remained of his memory with her was the worn pink ribbon tied around her braid.

Aerith refused to believe that he was gone. She refused to think that the letters she had written had gone unanswered. Lost in the mail, perhaps? He never answered his phone again, not after their last conversation, which was short and had ended with an empty promise to visit and a sinking feeling deep in her heart that still hadn't gone away. But even that could be explained, right? Everything had to have an explanation, but her heart wanted to cling to every excuse she had except for what was likely to be truth: that he was dead.

To be honest, she still expected the doors in her church to open and for him to saunter on in like he used to, sheepish grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Despite all odds, she wanted nothing more than to hold onto that last shred of hope that Zack would come back to her, but that hope seemed to die a little more every day, just as a little bit of Aerith seemed to die as well.

"Dead."

Rude sighed and looked over at Reno, whose usual cocky attitude was suddenly more reserved; a strange thing for someone like him.

"Those fucks. They weren't supposed to kill them. How the hell do we explain this to Tseng now?" Reno leaned back in the seat of the helicopter he had just landed, letting out an exasperated sigh and leaning his head up. "Can't follow a god damn order… what good was it all for?"

"…" Rude looked down at his hands, always a man of few words. They sat in silence for several minutes before Tseng's voice called out over their headsets.

"Reno, Rude, location?"

Reno flinched at the interruption, "Just got back, boss. News isn't so good though, but can't blame us for that one. Blame Heidegger and his band of fuckheads."

"What are you talking about, Reno?"

"…the targets have been eliminated by the infantry before the Turks could retrieve them." Rude spoke without emotion.

There was a moment of quiet, then Tseng spoke up. "Did you retrieve the bodies?"

"…what? Of course not!"

"Your orders were to retrieve the samples, Reno. If they're truly dead … they still must be brought back."

There was a pause, then Tseng added, "The least I can do for them is offer a proper burial. Retrieve the bodies and return to headquarters." Then there was a click.

"Tch..." Reno sighed, before starting the helicopter up once more. "What are we now, grave diggers?"

Sitting up had been quite a task, but he had accomplished it somehow. Zack looked like something that had crawled out from under a train wreck, and with these wounds, he might as well have.

A few Cure spells had helped ease the immediate pain, but he would need much more help before he was back to 100 again. Zack gazed out over the horizon at the towering city of Midgar. He was close. If he could make it back in, he could get to her.

Something flickered in his heart, and he willed his strength to return faster. If he could make those last few miles into the city, he'd be home free. And in any case, in this condition, he shouldn't stay in the wastelands much longer, lest he risk being stranded her after dark. With his injuries, and without any weapon, he'd fall prey to monsters too quickly for his liking.

'Okay, let's do this.' Carefully stretching his arms out, he began the rough task of standing up. His chest was on fire and dried blood irritated his skin, and his legs weren't much better off. Zack was forcing this, albeit slowly, but it was working. He bent his legs and, using the ground for leverage, slowly eased himself up onto his feet. Blood rushed to his head and he became dizzy, but he held ground for a minute until the dizzy spell passed.

'Allright, there's step one…' Taking a deep breath, and grasping the materia in his hand, he cast another Cure spell, giving him just a little bit more energy. Feeling a bit more confident and pleased that he'd managed to ward off the pain (even temporarily), he began to walk slowly toward the city. By the look of the sun, he had about four hours before sunset, and three miles to the city limits. Even with a slow pace, he should be able to make it just fine.

He began with a slow shuffle, limping slightly with his right leg, and after a few minutes his gait improved into a steady pace with small, carefully placed steps. He took care not to step on any rocks or anything that could risk him tripping; to fall suddenly like that could cost him precious time and worsen his injuries, and he needed to save what little magic energy he had to ward off the pain that already existed.

One foot after another. Limping and once in a while letting out a wince or small whimper, Zack continued on towards the eternal darkness of the city.

Aerith gathered up her basket and stood up. It was getting late, and decided that it would be best to go home. Staring at her flowers and becoming lost in memories wouldn't do her much good, especially when her mother was so prone to worrying.

With a sigh, she headed towards the door, pausing for a moment in the aisle.

It really did just seem like yesterday. He would come in through those very doors, they would embrace. He would tease her, she'd laugh it off and poke his shoulder. They would talk, and occasionally dance to unheard music under the hole in the roof.

The hole he caused. She glanced upwards behind her. Every time she looked at that hole, she remembered the day that he came falling into her life. Things were so different back then. He was immature and she was naïve. But things were good, life was good. She loved him and he loved her.

She glanced down, and remembered a night he spent at her church. It had been the first time she ever saw him cry. He had looked so heartbroken, and so out of character … and she felt so powerless to help him. All she could do was hold him in silence as he let it out.

She had found herself in that position lately, and all she wished for was his arms to come around her like that. The world was a dark place, she mused, and walked down the aisle and out the door, into the dim streets of Sector 5.