Grazing The Sky

___________

Lance stood in the doorway for what felt like centuries.

Zidane

He

He wasn't moving.

His eyes were pale, fingertip still tipped upwards as if he were trying to point to something.

"Zidane." The word felt so useless in his mouth.

Zooka was still on her knees, still in front of the bed. She touched Zidane's face, flat of her palm against his cheek.

"Z-Zidane? You there?"

No response. Lance was tired of the joke. Of all the times to pull a prank...

He took a wobbling step forward.

"Zidane?"

Yittek remained bowed, head low and hands holding one another. Lance caught a flash of light—a tear—and for a moment he was back in a hospital, watching his mother cry.

Four minutes. That's how long his father had lasted.

Lance couldn't go on for four more seconds. How... How could he, without Zidane here? How could he even try?

A shift in energy, like nightfall coming into the room. Lance turned, dragging his stare because something was commanding him to look. Something pulled everyone's stare to the side of the room opposite of the bed.

Ezyta was there, her long pale-gold gown pooling against the floor beneath her. She only stared at Zidane, her sickeningly long eyelashes touching as her eyes narrowed.

"Dispose of him."

The medics instantly nodded, hands raising and floating Zidane's body upwards. Zooka gave a small sound, a protest that never fully formed, and Lance found his voice again.

He stepped forward, glaring death at Ezyta.

"You bitch," he growled, voice trembling with rage. "After everything... Everything he did for you..."

One perfect brow rose.

"You must be my experiment."

Lance's insides suddenly folded with pain. He could feel a force moving around, searching.

"Hm. Still mostly human. Shame. I was hoping to get a better look..."

He felt the skin of his stomach tear open, leaking blood onto the floor. Wincing, he held his gut, angry stare never leaving Ezyta. He switched languages.

Razalek.

"How could you?" he said, watching her eyes flash in surprise. "How could you cast him aside like that? After everything he did..."

Ezyta's lips pursed.

"So he taught you our native tongue," she began. A hand flourished upwards, and Lance screamed for a fraction of a second, gritting his teeth as he felt his stomach begin to slide out of the slit she had made in his skin.

"Let's see how much human you have left."

Zooka stood up, legs shaking. "Stop it! Stop!"

She suddenly flew, and Lance's mouth opened in a soundless scream as she was flung towards Yittek.

Yittek reached an arm out, still keeping his head bowed. Zooka hovered in mid-air; Lance felt his stomach be pushed back, skin sealing again and foreign force disappearing.

At the same time, Ezyta's head snapped to the side. She had tilted her chin upright, made it look like she had meant to do the action, but Lance just watched her. He wished he had a knife, a gun, something...

Zidane's limp body was slowly, shakily lowered down.

"You will not touch him," Yittek said, his voice low. The words spat between clenched teeth.

Ezyta smiled.

"I don't plan on it."

She took a step forward, heel cl.i.c.k.i.n.g. Another memory flashed; hearing his mother's footsteps hurry against the hospital tile. Another person that may as well be dead...

Zidane's gone, he thought, feeling tears sting his eyes. They flowed out freely, wetting the sides of his face, the floor below.

He felt an energy speed towards him, suddenly blocked and deflected by another force. Yittek's.

"You will not touch him." The Razalek's voice came from every direction. Another memory; another shot to the heart.

A sharp sound. A sudden, deep inhale. Like someone was coming up for air after almost drowning.

Lance looked over, teary eyes widening.

Blue eyes stared at him, a soft smile forming on the face.

Zidane was breathing again.