*Sticks and Stones*

The problem with fighting with Zack, was that he could never just leave well enough alone.

Some lingering ‘pathetic jack-off bastard’ portion of his personality demanded that not only he get the last word, but that he kick his opponent in the nuts while he was down; hypothetically speaking, anyway. Strangely, fixed in place as his last cutting remark hung in the air between them, Sephiroth wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if they had just degenerated into brawling like schoolboys. It was when he was trying his hardest to be mature that he always seemed to do the most damage.

The dark SOLDIER refused to look away, maintaining eye contact with the air of a man staring down a wild animal, waiting to see which way it would lunge next. Sephiroth knew all about cold looks, if anything he had a corner on the market in his particular outfit. It was a rare man who could face his glares down, and even more miraculous person who could force /him/ to look away. He couldn’t even describe Zack’s expression as a ‘glare.’ The lack of emotion in the glowing hazel eyes -- carefully measuring him up and judging his next move -- was as intolerable as whatever had started the argument in the first place.

“If you have no further orders… I’m going to go inspect the lines, sir.” Only the clipped and formal nature of the words gave hint to his friend’s true mood. He had gotten under Zack’s impossibly thick skin. There was no doubt about that. Now the question was, why had he bothered, and what he was going to do about it.

Common sense stated that he should apologize, or at least keep the SOLDIER from leaving long enough to make an overture. Fury rose at the thought, and instead of doing anything proper, or even friendly, he stiffly nodded as the dark haired man escaped into the cool evening.

“…Fuck.”

The thing that infuriated him the most about fighting with Zack wasn’t that it left him feeling worse than before. It was the very idea that he could be dragged down into it in the first place. He wasn’t good with the emotions. The understatement almost made him smile. There was a reason why he generally left them alone. Things were easier without them. Calm logic, cool comparison of facts and figures, weighing the field, judging his strengths and his opponent’s weaknesses, that was how it was supposed to work. He wasn’t supposed to feel, not pleasure at a compliment, nor disappointment at a criticism, and most of all he wasn’t supposed to hurt. There had been more than enough of /that/ in life already, he was supposed to have gotten over that sort of weakness by now.

// And here I am, alone in the jungle, feeling like shit because my /secretary/ has just verbally flayed me down to the bone without once ever raising his voice or hell even being that vulgar, not for Zack anyway. Fuck him… //

Childishly angry, and even more angry at the realization that it /was/ childish to feel that way, he abandoned work to stretch himself out on the floor. The bed wasn’t long enough, and far too fragile if he forgot himself and lashed out at the inoffensive piece of furniture.

// Can’t even lay down in a bed like a normal person, always making do, fitting in, hiding, pretending, smoothing over the parts that people don’t like… putting up with Heidigger when I’d love nothing more than to take his bald little head and… //

Pushing the frustration aside, he forced himself to calm down, feeling the uncomfortable emotions bleeding away with every slow breath. Years, it had been years since someone had riled him to the point where he couldn’t immediately regain control. The thought threatened to start the whole process over again and he issued a temporary ultimatum to his subconscious to leave Zack and his unintentionally cutting remarks aside.

// Or maybe they were intentional… pushing, pushing to see how much I’ll allow? How far before I’ll snap and prove what? That I’m a bad commander? That I’m too hard? Too soft? What is his motivation… is he working for someone? Have they gotten to him too? Or did they have him all along. //

Nothing was better at killing wild anger than a cold tickle of paranoia. Hojo’s too-large, and notably disturbed eyes behind the glare of glass and chrome peering at him like some sort of lizard. Every reptilian blink making him wonder if maybe the man possessed a second set of eyelids for when he swam under water. Not that he ever got wet. The scientist wasn’t helping his mood either.

Deep breaths. Let go of it. Just. Let go.

// Forget Hojo, he’s on the other side of the planet, and that’s /almost/ far enough away… You’ve got troops that need to be moved, a supply line that’s going to be compromised by tomorrow unless you come up with something, and… //

He swallowed, still feeling a little sick with the excessive emotion.

//… You have an hour before Zack comes back and expects you to be your usual professional best. //

Sephiroth refused to give the man the pleasure of knowing that he had said something that couldn’t be shaken off.

// How dare he imply that I… Bastard. Who does he think he is?! //

He pushed off the floor with a sigh and stalked over to the map. Studying the geography of the hills in the hopes inspiration would come wasn’t /that/ bad of an idea. The color-coded tacks helped him put things in perspective. The fifth, and sixth really were sitting ducks if the natives should choose to mount an attack. Moving the men and rerouting the supply line through safer territory would be an unfortunate delay. Better to just take the losses and fortify the existing troops.

A voice in the back of his head with an uncanny resemblance to a certain dark-haired officer pointed out that the smell off coffee would cover up the stench of the dead who fought to see that it arrived. He mentally told the voice to shut up.

// Heidigger wouldn’t move them. There’s no need to move them, they’ll probably be fine… damned 6-th sense or not the only way the daimyos could know to attack /there/ would be because someone /told/ them to… //

Suddenly cold, he considered the angle. God knew security had been anything but airtight in camp. Strange thing, it had gotten a lot better once he had started using his official orders for kindling rather than battle plans. Sephiroth pondered whether his subordinate’s stubborn position was due to the fact that he was insufferably kind-hearted, or if he knew something else, something he didn’t see fit to tell him. Maybe moving the troops to humor the man would be playing into some other…

He shook his head to drive off the doubts. A man, a /general/ had to know when to cut losses and when to stay and fight. Considering the map, he couldn’t help but smirk. If Zack wanted to test him, why not reverse the game? He would show the SOLDIER that he didn’t appreciate being second-guessed, and best of it all, he wouldn’t have to say a thing. Feeling rather more cheerful about the afternoon, the general shifted several markers, and drafted the written commands, leaving it prominently next to the typewriter for his aide. With any luck, he would soon have a week of peace and quiet as the dark haired officer personally baby-sat the relocation of those troops he had fought so hard to protect. Maybe some time out in the jungle would make him more amiable. At the least it would give Sephiroth the chance to see what would happen, and maybe, see where those leaks were coming from.

Abandoning his tent in favor of a brief stroll, he forgot about apologizing entirely.

*****