Warning: Angst, probably old man tearyness.
Summary: Angeal remembers dying.
It was with a shout and jerk that Angeal awoke. The sheets fell to his naked waist and the cool but muggy night air of the island settled on his sweaty skin. He looked around the hut, the nightmare still fresh in his thoughts. Kairi was sleeping soundly, undisturbed by his dream induced thrashing and whimpering. He ran shaking fingers through his limp hair, feeling cold already. He blinked away water that built up in his eyes, rubbing at it angrily with the back of his calloused hand. He pushed his sheet aside and swung his legs out of his bed, his chest rising and falling. It was a dream, he told himself. A horrible dream. It's not real. Angeal tended to have rather disturbing dreams, especially as his memories began to return more frequently and vividly. He usually dreamt of war, of battles and blood, fallen comrades and death. He woke up, confused and a little pensive. But he had never cried, never been too upset. But never had he dreamt of his own death.
He knew, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew that it was true. It was a memory and not a dream. He had died in Gaia. And...he was not a human when it happened. What the hell was he? “Oh, gods.” He forced Zack, his bright, true Zack – his student- to kill him. Angeal groaned in guilt, it burrowed, swirling and choking deep within his chest. His dark eyes clenched shut and the crease between his thick eyebrows deepened.
“I am a monster...” he whispered into the dark.
He felt at a loss, he couldn't escape or run away from the island, he was trapped and bound to his confused and incomplete memories. Everything seemed so unsure at that moment and this was a horribly foreign feeling to the tall man. Angeal was confident in the fact that he took most things and dealt with them in a calm and strategic manner, but now he was having trouble connecting blue and red in his mind. He picked up his woollen, sleeveless shirt and pulled it over his head as well as putting on a pair of loose pants and left the hut.
Outside was quiet, the odd animal noise shrieking through the darkness. Angeal sat on the steps for a long time, playing the scene over and over in his head. The summoning, a transformation...he merged with those...things. Those horrible creatures. He became -no, he was a monster. A creature, just like them? Zack's face. Angeal's face hid itself in his enormous hands. Zack's big, blue eyes confused and pleading. Why had he done it? A fight. He had attacked his own student, the one that trusted him and looked up to him. All of those nice things Zack said about 'his mentor'. Himself, Angeal. Did he remember what Angeal had done? “Gods,” he spoke aloud again. The look on Zack's face. That beautiful kid trying not cry over his dying and defeated body. It was unbearable. Wetness slipped down his broad cheeks. That horrified, cheated, lost look.
It was worse even than remembering the feeling of life slipping away.
“Zack,” he whispered thickly and sniffed. What had he done?