fandomhighdorms | Outside the Weapons Locker, Sunday Afternoon

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Outside the Weapons Locker, Sunday Afternoon

Zack was putting one foot in front of the other on his way across the causeway. There was no thought involved in this, only motion, only the one-two rhythm of his legs working, of the soles of his boots hitting the ground ahead of him again and again in quick, steady succession. He walked. Across the causeway, across the island. Back toward the dorms. He walked.

There was a weight on his back. Habit informed Zack's feet that when there was weight like that, then they were going to have to steer the rest of Zack this way before he could go that way, and so Zack's feet did just that. And, once they reached one doorway in particular, Zack's feet ever-so-helpfully notified Zack's hand that now it was time to reach backward, to close around the hilt of the sword that was resting there, because it was time to put it away.

That was about the point that Zack's brain informed Zack's eyes that it was time to look around. First at the door that they, the whole amalgamation of parts that was Zack, were standing in front of. It took Zack's eyes a minute to successfully relay to his brain that they were standing at the weapons locker.

With a blank expression on his face as he worked on turning the sum of his parts back into one cohesive unit all over again, Zack then turned his gaze to his sword. It wasn't the sword that he usually carried with him. It was larger, heavier. In some haze a million miles away, the side of his face ached and his chest hitched and he was choking down another hiccup of a sob as the situation caught up with him.

He was about to turn the Buster Sword over to the weapons locker.

He was about to turn Angeal's sword over to the weapons locker.

And that was when Zack and all of his codependently functioning parts all sagged to the ground at once. And right there was probably where he would stay for a while, with a sword that was nearly the same size as he was resting in his lap, eyes fixed on the weapon and his mind lost in a haze, screaming silent defiance in his head somewhere a million miles away.

He couldn't do this.

[Open, if anyone wants. Fair warning, threads with Zack aren't liable to be particularly sunshiney for a little while.]

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Just because the island was practically dead didn't mean she wasn't busy. (She was always busy.) Which meant that, when Ino bounced down the stairs and then down the hall to where the weapons locker was, she had training on the mind and rapid-fire contemplation of how to deal with the problems and weaknesses she knew she had...

And then those thoughts came to a skittering halt as she noticed Zack.

Sitting down and not looking very... Zack-like at all. Where was his bounce? Why was he sitting outside of the weapons locker? ... Why was his sword even larger than normal?

Ino silently padded over to him knelt down beside him, head-tilted to watch his expressions--his face was injured, his sword wasn't his own; she knew his normal sword--and studied him for a long moment before she spoke.

"Hi, Zack," she said gently. Quietly. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was upset. That something had gone dreadfully wrong on his mission. Ino's heart twisted just looking at him.

Zack was... Zack. Whatever happened to him mattered to her.

There were words, there. A familiar voice that edged in around the corners of whatever fog had settled into his head. And he wanted to look up, and some piece of him was desperate to smile at her, to grin and bounce and to hug on and tell her that he was fine. That was what he always did.

But right now, he didn't have it in him. He wasn't crying. He refused to break down and cry now that he was back here. But he couldn't quite look up far enough to meet her eyes. Breathing was hard enough as it was.

He did, however, manage a small nod. Acknowledgement that she'd been heard. That was better than nothing. It was going to have to be.

She waited patiently for him to acknowledge her. Anyone who said she lacked patience didn't realize that she saved her patience for the important things. This was important. This was Zack crumpled on the floor and radiating misery.

He nodded. Ino let out the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding and carefully raised one hand to brush a bit of his hair back.

Ino wouldn't ask him if he was okay. He was obviously anything but okay. The only physical injury she could spot was the one on his cheek.

Emotionally, though...

"Do you mind if I stay here awhile?" Leaving him alone wasn't… wasn't much of an option, no.

She didn't know what was wrong. Why he had a different sword. But she'd be dammed if she'd leave him sitting in a hallway by himself.

He shook his head almost immediately, then. Zack didn't want to be left alone. He'd been left alone far, far too often, these past few days. And right now... Right now, he could really use somebody nearby.

He licked his lips, as though that was somehow going to do something about the catch in his throat, and about how difficult it was to find words, right now. It really didn't do much good.

"Hey," he managed, and that was about that before he was shutting his mouth and willing himself to breathe, to keep his composure.

She settled down next to him, at the shake of his head, and carefully looped one arm though his. Physical contact. She was here, see? He wasn't alone. As she moved, Ino was cautious to avoid touching the sword; her lap was low enough that it didn't touch her even as she studied it and ran her fingers comfortingly up and down the space of Zack's arm.

"Hey," Ino replied, casting a sideways glance up at him. "I'll keep you company. I don't mind."

What she'd mind is if anyone tried to take her away from him at the moment.

Touch. Ino. Ino's hand.

Zack nodded a little again, leaning sideways slightly. Closer to her. Warmth. Not alone. He wasn't alone. Okay.

Okay.

He owed her an explanation. Some sort of reason for him being on the floor trying not to sob over somebody else's sword. He could do that. He could open his mouth, and make words.

"Angeal," was about the beginning and end of it. But it probably said more than enough.

Angeal. Angeal.

Carefully her free hand hovered above the sword. "This is his, isn't it?"

Ino wouldn't say 'was'. Not now.

And now she was going to shift, back up on her knees so she could snake her arms around him and hold him in a hug. He needed a hug. He was a huge, warm, leaning presence next to her and he needed that hug.

She had a million hugs for him. A billion and more. "I'm so sorry."

The words were inadequate. Ino's arms tightened around him in hopes that that could better express her sympathy. Not pity, never pity. But sorrow and sympathy and the fact that she wished it had fallen out any other way than Angeal dying?

That. That exactly.

It was Angeal's sword. It was. Had been. He'd given it to Zack. It was Zack's sword, now. But he was nodding again, and leaning back into her, and-- And to hell with choking back his tears. A hiccup escaped, and then the rest seemed to cascade out of him like a waterfall.

He needed to cry. Angeal was dead.

He'd killed him.

She'd never go 'shhhh' at him or say it was alright or anything so belittling that people seemed to think would help.

"It's okay to cry," she whispered, her arms around him. Ino was never letting him go. "I won't tell. You don't have to be strong right now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You can cry." Over and over; a soft litany. Giving him permission to be weak. He needed that permission. He spent too much time keeping himself together.

She could hold him while he fell apart.

And anyone else would have to go through her to get to him right this moment. While he was leaning against her, she had to brace herself on the floor, a tiny bit of chakra to stabilize herself because he was heavy and he was weak and she had to be strong for him right now and that meant she couldn't give ground.

She couldn't move mountains. But she could shelter him and hold him and offer what comfort she could. It was okay to cry. He needed it.

Edited 2010-04-04 17:19 (UTC)

He didn't want to cry. SOLDIERs didn't cry. Heroes didn't cry. But he wasn't a hero. He was just some kid with a sword and a uniform. He couldn't even save Angeal. He'd tried so hard, and in the end, he hadn't done good enough, and now Angeal was gone.

He didn't want to cry, but he did, and somewhere in there he managed to find the presence of mind to twist around to wrap his arms around her. And there, he'd just cling until he cried himself out.

"I can't go inside," he murmured, once he was tired and lightheaded and done.

He couldn't just put Angeal's sword away. Not yet.

She pressed a very soft kiss to his hair, paying no attention to her very damp shirt or the fact that he was holding her tight enough that her ribs ached. None of that mattered and she'd never tell him to loosen his grip.

Ino trailed her fingers through his hair. "I know."

And she loathed Fandom's dorm rules for that. No wonder he'd been sitting out here. Putting Angeal's sword away...

"Did you want to go outside, instead?"

Outside? Back outside? There was a breeze outside, and it was just stuffy in here, where they expected him to cram all he had left of Angeal into a locker.

Outside sounded like a very good idea right about now.

He nodded a bit.

"That'd be good," he admitted. His voice sounded entirely too raw, too tired for his liking. He attempted to compensate with a small twitch of a smile. It wasn't much, but if he focused, it might stay there for a minute, even.

Edited 2010-04-04 17:52 (UTC)

She held on to him for a moment longer before reluctantly letting him go. "You'll have to let me go," she said softly, a tiny part of her amused. The rest of her aching for him and his tiny tiny attempt at a smile.

"I'll still be right here with you."

"Oh... Right." Let her go, then. Zack managed that, loosening his grip and vaguely aware just how tightly he'd been clinging to her in the first place. There was a bit of a twinge of guilt hitting him in the chest at that realization, and he turned an apologetic glance her way before reaching for the hilt of the Buster Sword.

It wasn't heavy to him, per se. It was a new, solid weight in his hand. It was something that he wasn't used to, and he stared at it as he picked it up, pushing himself to his feet at the same time.

A ragged breath later, and he was pressing his forehead against the cool, solid metal surface of the blade for a moment. This sword was honour, and dreams. It was Angeal.

"Let's go," he said a moment later, as he finally put the sword away onto his back.

She ached but none of that showed on her face or in her movements as she stood up and silently waited while he paid respect to his memories. He had nothing to be sorry for. She could handle it--it was nothing to what he was dealing with.

Angeal. She wished she'd met him.

Ino reached for his hand once he'd put the sword away. "Come on," she said, "I know where we can go."

It was a vague idea but it was the only one she had right now.

Vague ideas were better than anything Zack had, at the moment. He'd probably just end up dragging himself back outside, and then sitting in the grass, instead.

He nodded a little, closing his hand around hers and attempting another smile. This one was directed somewhere toward his feet, and lasted a few seconds or so.

"Lead on."

She did, fingers tightening around his hand, and with a gentle tug to let him know she was moving and he'd have to follow her now.

Ino didn't walk particularly fast, not wanting to rush him, and as they walked?

She chattered. About everything and nothing. About her garden and what was being done to it and how she was pretty sure it was Karla who'd been working on it as well. About the flowers she wanted to put in. About how she wondered what sort of classes there'd be to take in the summer, what sort of weather they'd have--did he want to go to the beach with her at some point? Ino didn't wait for an answer; she didn't expect one right now and chattered on--she talked about how she thought Chloe was going to be a good student, and how wasn't it funny that she was teaching someone super shy?

Shyer than Hinata even and that was adorable. Had he met her? No matter if he hadn't. Ino told him about how she was thinking of getting some new clothing, some in purple, because she liked purple, and some in pink because she liked his smile when she wore it. Ino would've been embarrassed to admit that any other time but right now? As they walked and she held his hand and she tried to anchor him and give his mind something to focus on that wasn't grief or missions or Doing The Job, Ino was going to talk about everything else.

About the singers she liked to sing with the best, about how she'd been trying to decide how and where to start with his lessons in her language. About how she needed to talk to other people more and wasn't it funny how you could live almost next to someone and not talk to them for months? She talked about how she hoped Liir was doing well and how she had to talk to Joan and see if she was doing okay. She talked about Bod, how she called him 'shoulders' and about Arthur, and babbled about reserves and about her classes--did he think she was a difficult woman?--and how she still didn't understand the points of some of them.

About her hair, about his hair. About the fact that it was nice enough today that she didn't need a coat and wasn't that lovely? She thought it was.

Ino could talk. She could keep this up for hours.

Filling the air with inconsequential things so he didn't have to worry that she wasn't there.

She could talk, and he could listen. He caught bits, here and there. Most of what she'd been talking about at first had spun past him in a blur. But, the more she spoke, the more he realized that she was giving him something to focus on. Something to cling to so that maybe he could get his head working properly again.

After a while, he was hanging on every word. Nodding where it was appropriate and every now and again even piping up with a few short, almost coherent replies of his own. He was hoping to meet more people around here, too, and wasn't another term coming up? And he was thinking about starting to style his hair differently. And she didn't strike him as difficult, just strong-willed, and that wasn't the same thing at all.

And thank you.

She just kept talking, babbling almost, though it was more coherent than the word babble suggested. When he started answering her, a tiny smile had appeared on her face. He was paying attention. That was all she needed to keep on talking. She hadn't even needed that much but he was talking. He was very welcome.

It was--something.

There was a new term coming up. She wondered if they'd get anyone exciting or fascinating or fun. Ino didn't mention that she wondered, too, if they'd get anyone from either of their worlds. She didn't want him to even think about the idea that, in other worlds, Angeal was still alive. Did he have anything in mind for his hair? She liked his hair but she liked him so liking his hair went along with it and he could do what he wanted but she wondered. Centurion seemed to think strong-willed equalled difficult and had he met him? Centurion was a good man, she added quickly, but he was also one with some interesting ideas. And Zack shouldn't ever believe him when he said what he could do. He tended to lie. Ino admitted that she didn't blame him for lying--she did too--but it was kinda silly to lie about everything, here.

Slowly they were making their way across the grounds, towards the stables. Had he ever been this way before? Not a lot of people came here.

"I was thinking of wearing it back more," Zack said, lifting his free hand to tug idly at his bangs after he'd admitted in short, kind of choppy sentences that he came back here occasionally when he was out for his morning jogs. That he really hadn't met Centurion, and he agreed that lying about everything in a place like this was just asking for trouble, wasn't it? "Just... comb it differently, maybe gel it back."

No reason. Really.

He gave her hand a little squeeze. Breathing. He was breathing again. That was nice. Everything was still twisted up funny inside of him, but at least right now he didn't feel like the sky was falling in on him.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking searchingly up at him. "Wouldn't be a bad look on you, that. Just don't use too much gel or you'll look like you've got a helmet of hair."

Which was ew.

They were approaching her garden now. "It's not impressive really, yet," she confessed. "Give it another month and most everything will be up further."

Already though, seedlings were sprouting in various stages of development and, still holding his hand, she was just going to kneel down to say hi to the closest ones while he got the first real look of her garden.

Zack had never been a big fan of helmets. Maybe he'd just use enough gel to have his hair more or less stay swept backward, and then leave it to do whatever it wanted from there. It would be a kind of haphazard approach at Angeal hair, but then, Zack's hair had always been haphazard, hadn't it?

"There's still plenty here," he noted, glancing around at the various sprouts and blooms that were pushing up through the ground. "It's... nice."

He meant it, about as much as he could mean anything he was saying right about now. This was the second garden he'd seen in as many days. It was comforting, in a way.

Ino gave her plants another smile, fingers carefully brushing over them, before getting up again. All of this without letting go of Zack's hand.

"I want you to see the trees," she said, tugging him gently. Around the flowerbeds. This way and her trees, if he was watching, looked distinctly... odd.

That was what happened when you had trees with pillows on them and blankets and clothing. Milk pods and chocolate cherries.

At a glance, Zack would have just assumed that people had taken to throwing random stuff into the trees. Which was more or less what he was doing right now, stealing the occasional glance from the ground underfoot to look at what it was that Ino was talking about.

Pillows? In trees? Yeah, had to be some kind of practical joke or something.

"The trees?"

"A student who used to go here planted them," she said, smiling slightly. "They're real enough."

Anyone who tried wrecking her garden, after all, would be found out and quickly informed to never try it again.

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