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Words for Tomorrow ~ Chapter 11
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"Tell me when the grass is green, oh Zack sang softly to himself as he weeded a flower bed near the back door of the mansion. Hojo stood for a moment in the doorway, blinking moleishly in the bright spring sunlight. He had not been out this door in years, not since... well, when didn't matter anymore. Days long gone, and best forgotten. Still, his mind recalled the forgotten beauty of the garden in those days. Lush beds of flowers, teeming with blossoms. Fat bees hovering lazily around. The ancient evergreens leaning close, but trimmed neatly over the high wooden fences. Smaller cedar hedges, interwoven with climbing vines and flowers. The air full of the many scents of summer... and a woman's perfume, and hair like silk on the breeze. He shook his head abruptly, banishing the image. Softer days, those, yes, he'd been too soft then, too... human. "Oh, hey. Didn't hear you open the door." Hojo stared blankly at the young man kneeling by the flower bed nearest the door for a moment. "Professor?" "Yes?" Hojo snapped, drawing back into himself. "Oh. There you are. What are you doing?" Zack sat back on his heels, swiping his forearm across his forehead and leaving a smear of dirt behind. "Weeding," he said, resisting the urge to reply sarcastically. Hojo frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Why? No. Never mind. You could at least pay attention to the front door," he continued peevishly. "I had to answer it myself." Shifting his weight, Zack stayed where he was. "Sorry, professor. I didn't think we were expecting anything today." "Mail. For you." Hojo dumped three envelopes unceremoniously on the ground and stalked back inside. He had work to do, dammit! He didn't have time to be answering doors and delivering mail! But the thought of a garden in summer, and the half-remembered scent of perfume, distracted him for the rest of the afternoon. * * * Zack picked up the envelopes gingerly, trying not to smear too much dirt on them. Hojo had dropped them face down, so it wasn't until he'd taken them inside, cleaned up, and sat down on his bed that he got to see who they were from. He hadn't been expecting two, let alone three. One was labeled in neat, tight script that he recognized happily as Sephiroth's. The other though.... Squinting at the scrawl, he decided it might be Reno's, but he'd only seen the scribble that passed as the red-head's hand-writing a couple of times. And the third, neat and delicate, had to be from Aeris. Laying them out on the bed, he debated which to open first, trying not to feel guilty about having to choose. Curiosity got the better of him, and he picked up the one with the terrible handwriting. There was a single sheet of paper folded around a second, smaller envelope. Unfolding it with one hand, Zack quickly scanned the few short lines. Zack,
Spike asked me to pass this on to you, as the General was none too keen on giving your letter to him in the first place.
Later, Zack smiled as he set Reno's note down and opened Cloud's letter. He was pleasantly surprised at how the Turk was befriending Cloud in his absence. Spike. He chuckled. Hey Zack, I was really surprised when Reno gave me your letter. A few words were scratched out, leaving Zack to wonder what Cloud had almost said. How come you didn't just send it to me? Well, maybe it's for the best that you didn't, anyway, given how Kaney's been. Remembering how Cloud's roommate had been the night he brought Cloud home from the slums, Zack clenched his teeth. He's a jerk. Can't wait until we take the SOLDIER test and get separate rooms -- though I doubt he's gonna pass it. Zack, I... I really miss you. I never realized how incredibly boring it is around here before. And I miss our extra practices, too. Bet you never thought I'd say that, hunh? Reno's dropped by a couple times, to take me out for a drink Zack frowned slightly. or just to hang out. He's cool, but he's... I dunno... there's just this... intensity about him. Like he's a loaded weapon about to go off if the right trigger is pulled. Heh. I guess that's not so far off, him being a Turk and all. Gives me the creeps sometimes. Speaking of things that give me the creeps -- the General's wandered in a couple times to watch our mock combats and stuff. He's just so... so cold. He's not at all like I thought he was, like the war hero from the papers and all. It's really weird. He talks to some of the other guys, but never to me. Makes me wonder what I've done wrong. Zack sighed and lay down cross-wise on the bed. The uncertainty in Cloud's writing was almost tangible. Anyway, I'm not taking it personally, cuz there are so many of us, and he doesn't really have time to chat. I guess I'm just filling up paper here. There's not really anything much important to tell you about. Really hope you'll be back soon.
Take care, He skim-read the letter again, deciding that Cloud had probably been interrupted at the end of it, rather than running out of things to say. Although he'd never consider the blond a chatterbox, he often had comments or thoughts on just about any subject that came up. The trick was coaxing them out of him. He hoped Reno wasn't making a habit of Cloud's drinking. The Turk didn't have much of a reputation for being the most responsible person. But, knowing Reno, he probably cultivated his reputation quite carefully -- like Sephiroth and his role as General. Regardless, Cloud's behaviour was Cloud's choice. He just hoped he blond was making sensible choices. Laying the letter aside, he picked up the one he assumed was from Aeris. He'd leave Sephiroth's to last, he decided. Dear Zack, the flowers are in full bloom now. The garden is such a sight to see. I wish I could send you some photos, but we don't have a camera, and by the time I earn enough to buy one, you'll be here again anyway! Oh, Zack, I hope it is green and growing where you are. It is such a wonderful time of year. I hate being stuck under the Plate now. I want to be outside and away, with the wind in my hair and grass underfoot and.... Well, impossible dreams for me. Life outside of Midgar is something I remember only in dreams, vague memories from childhood. But perhaps one day... I'd like to go to someplace like Gongaga, or Corel, sometime. The papers said there were Reactor accidents there a few years ago. I bet there's a need for healers there. Not that I'm a healer, but I think I'd like to learn to be one. Life is so precious... I think that's something you understand, too, even though you're a SOLDIER. I could just tell, when we met, you're not a cold-hearted killer. There's a warmth in you, a love of life... I miss you, Zack. It's strange. On the one hand, we barely know each other, and yet, I feel like I've known you forever, like I'd like to know you forever. I want to know all about your life, what you've seen, what you've done.... Do you think that's terribly nosy of me? Maybe it is. Elmira - my mother - would think so. She doesn't entirely approve of my writing to you anyway. She says those who belong to Shinra are best left alone. I know Shinra is dangerous, but I can't believe that everyone who works for them is evil. You're not evil, and that's all that matters. * * * In the basement of the mansion, Hojo paused in the process of filling a series of small vials as a thought slid sideways into his consciousness. That letter.... Yes, the letter. Three letters, but only that one mattered. The address.... Yes, the address. Sector 5, B.P.. Below the Plate, formally. The Slums. #1 Garden View, Sector 5, B.P.. Only one house in Sector 5 actually had a street address that would be used that way. Only one house, and only two people living there. The girl.... How did the SOLDIER know her? Why was she writing to him? He filled another vial with Jenova-mako fluid, listening to the soft hissing of the voice. How long the voice had been with him, he could no longer remember. At least as long as sh-- Find her! Demanding now, the voice. He shook his head slightly, his thin black ponytail rubbing along the shoulders of his lab coat. Shinra knew where the girl was. As long as she stayed there, there was no need to do anything drastic. As much as he himself wanted her in his lab for examination, he'd learned the hard way that the President and, surprisingly, the Turks, would not be swayed from their present course with respect to the girl. Find her? Wistful now, sounding too much like... like.... He raised his head, staring out the open doorway. The voice whispered on in the background, its usual soft babble of promises and lies. He let it ramble, well accustomed to its soft tones by now. Taking off his glasses, he polished them on his lab coat, thinking of the SOLDIER kneeling in the garden. Control him! the voice snapped suddenly, surprising him. He murmured soft reassurances to it silently, trying to determine what had sparked the outburst. Your son.... Ahh... so that was it. Giving the glasses one last polish, he settled them back over his ears. This SOLDIER had some influence with his son, then. ...leading him astray... the voice wailed with a mother's sorrow. He hushed it with empty promises, unconcerned. Pushing his glasses firmly up on to the bridge of his nose, he returned to his work. There was a new batch of soon-to-be SOLDIERs in Midgar, and he needed more of this serum.
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