Author's Note: Long time no see, if I have any friends left... This should be a short story---only a few chapters, I should think. And yes, I'm sure there's going to be a scene, so if you can't/won't read that kind of thing then there's not much purpose in reading any further. As always, criticism is much appreciated.

Dedicated to Alex, who inspired me to write more absolute garbage. He bought me a yaoi "wank mag" (as he calls it) for Christmas, and teased me with the photos, which started this. It's all your fault. Damn you.

The rain came down, as thunderous as the marching feet that it fell to. Even the mud was not enough to cancel out that pounding sound, the rhythm of those bodies, steps in sync all the way down a seemingly endless procession, as they did a morning drill.

The sky was an ugly grey streaked with black---a void---sunless and bleak. Everything stunk of filth and unwashed bodies and blood. His boots were already covered in caked mud, with even his coat painted with a dried spray of muck from the day previous.

He was the weary specter that stood to the side like a vision, almost, one as soggy as the canvas tents that had housed them for the night, but nonetheless a kind of inspiration that could not be lessened by anything, even atrocious conditions. He was something unreal and untouchable, draped in a mess of wet, knotted, silver hair and black leather. It would be easy to say that something so extraordinary did not belong.

They seemed to flinch under his unwavering gaze, as though they could not take it. All were tired and worn from many sleepless nights and days of warfare, and were only shadows of what they had been when they had started. They looked haggard, he noted, unshaven, eyes lined with the blue-purple that was symptomatic of sleeplessness.

They were all his, but he felt even less for them than ever. He wanted to turn away from them, to abandon them to their fate in this horrible world he didn't understand. He felt so distant from it all, even when the arch of blood was caused by his sword, even when it was his voice that harshly gave out the orders and decided fate.

He was not a god, only a man with power. He still believed there was a difference.

"Sir, you have a call."

It took a moment for the words to cut through his troubled thoughts. It took even longer for him to decide to acknowledge them. Staring out at his men, tonelessly, he answered:

"Fine. I'll take it."

A 2nd handed him a phone, hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. The General had been quieter and more distant than usual for what seemed weeks. He was not himself. His men sensed it, and did what they could to placate him by bothering him as little as possible.

It was a bit of a tragedy, the 2nd thought, that the one man who kept them grounded was not fully with them when they desired his level-headedness and calm reassurance most. Even the slightest encouragement had not fallen on their ears since the beginning of the campaign.

"General?" It echoed from the phone loudly enough that he could hear it over the toiling of his SOLDIERs.

"Director Lazard," he answered, recognizing the voice.

Sephiroth breathed in the scent of wet earth. His eyes were still transfixed on the men.

"I'm sending the new 1st, Zack Fair to you in a few hours. He'll be relieving one of the commanding officers of your choosing."

He blinked, eyes gone stormy instantaneously. "I don't think that is necessary." He said it even as he watched his SOLDIERs lifelessly go through their morning routine.

"Commander Hewley has requested it."

"I believe my influence still outweighs Commander Hewley's, does it not?" It wasn't a question, and even the General found himself surprised by his own words.

He could hardly recall a time when he had ever so much as questioned something Angeal did, let alone an indirect order. He had often mused that he respected the man's opinions more than his own. He had been out too long, he knew, spent too much time on his own, letting his darker parts take over. He felt as though he was on autopilot.

The last thing he needed, however, was to spend his time looking out for Fair. Zack was an excellent SOLDIER---the General had never denied that---but because he was a favorite of the Commander, it required that extra precautions were taken when it came to his welfare. The young SOLDIER would get in the way when he needed to be focusing on other things, like putting a stop to the mission sooner rather than later. He couldn't do that half so proficiently with Zack tagging along.

It was more than just that, Sephiroth knew. He nearly cringed, his grip on the phone tightening enough that the smooth leather of his gloves creaked against the plastic. His eyes closed momentarily. The General's self-control had been terrible as of late, and someone like Fair would only worsen his lack of it. They had too much of a history.

He hated to think of it, but he had been avoiding the boy, knowingly.

"He believes it will be in Fair's best interest, and I have to say that I agree with him. Fair has not been in any similar situations and he has yet to be in charge of his own troops," the Director stated, always using logic, the best weapon anyone had against the General's stubbornness. As an afterthought, he added: "He will be quite an asset."

Sephiroth sighed, the action more out of irritation than relief. "Have it your way."

With that, he ended the call, handing the phone back to the SOLDIER who had patiently waited beside him.

"Please have it passed on to Wesson that he is being replaced. Tell him to have his things ready by evening."

By the afternoon, Sephiroth had a strategy planned for the next move, which would occur within a few days. They were still on the outskirts of Wutai, having retreated to the more uninhabitable regions while they recouped before making the final assault of their mission.

It was nearly under Shin-Ra's control as it was; the whole of the place was peppered with the signs of the new influence. It was now only a matter of fully persuading the last dregs of the Resistance to lay down arms and accept that Wutai was officially Shin-Ra property for the extraction of mako.

He didn't agree with what was being done, but he had never stopped to consider how that might impact his mood during the mission. He did what must be done, always, plain and simple. His personal feelings toward the takeover were hardly important. It had always been that way; it had to be. There was no room for humanity.

Zack had made quite a name for himself with his last mission. Sephiroth kept tabs on him, not only for Angeal's sake, but out of personal interest. Yes, it would be a good opportunity to learn the ins and outs of leadership for the newly-appointed 1st class, as Lazard had said, but he still did not necessarily want to be stuck with Fair.

It was as he was checking the perimeter, that he heard a helicopter through the non-stop onslaught of rain. The others heard it much later than he did. He hadn't expected anyone to try to brave the storm by air. He had assumed Fair had been nearby and would come in a vehicle; the 1st had been in Wutai not long ago, after all.

He brushed a wet lock from his vision, blinking rapidly through the rain.

Damn Fair, damn him to hell.

"How much longer do you think we'll be?"

It was Fair's voice, curious as always. The General's back was to him, but even so, he could sense the movement of a hand mussing black hair. Sephiroth did not turn, his eyes staring out at a copse of trees rather than his men, or even Zack. He had not even bothered to see Wesson off, or greet his replacement. Within only a few minutes, Angeal's favored student had already found him; it was hardly unpredictable. He doubted the 1st had even seen to getting his things put away. Fair had always been terribly impatient.

"A few weeks, at the most. I have made it a priority to finish the campaign as soon as possible."

A nod. "Right."

Zack's tone had lost a bit of its enthusiasm as he glanced over the back of the General's coat. Rain had beaded on its surface, and he watched the droplets trail down.

He hated how awkward this was. He was angry at Sephiroth for making it that way. And to worsen things, he was certain the man had been completely avoiding him the last month. He was sure it was only because of Angeal's gentle shove that he was even on the same mission in the first place.

When Sephiroth said nothing more, gave him no orders or brief, the 1st nearly turned away, aggravated. But as he continued to think about it, watching the way the man completely ignored him, his bluntness came to him.

"Isn't it a little dumb to keep ignoring me like this?" he questioned, so shocked by his own boldness that his eyes widened.

A sigh. The creak of leather as shoulders tensed. The silver head seemed to bow slightly, in . . . determination?

"The least you could do is look at me," Zack said defiantly, becoming ever the more daring with each passing second that he got no response.

The 1st couldn't see Sephiroth's eyes close, but they did for an instant before he finally turned to look over his shoulder.

"It's done with, Fair, let it lie." It was an order, tinged with an anger that nearly made Zack flinch.

He couldn't recall the last time the General had not only used his last name to address him, but said it in that way. What bothered him was that it seemed almost hateful. What had he ever done to the man, really? Sephiroth was the one who had fled.

"Well it doesn't seem like you are 'letting it lie'."

He swallowed compulsively when in an instant, the older man was facing him. The rain had started again, rolling down the slightly tanned face, then dripping off the chin. His expression was so vacant, that Zack had to steel himself for a moment to keep from stepping back. Sephiroth's eyes were stark against it all, bringing life to something that appeared lifeless.

"I don't have time for this," he said dismissively, words laced with vitriol. "You will do what you came to do. Other interactions outside this mission are unnecessary and unwanted."

The General brushed past him without waiting for a reply.