It was one of the quiet nights. There weren't many of those, really, but sometimes, sometimes Hojo wasn't in the lab. Sometimes he was... Zack didn't know where, really. And frankly, he didn't care. Just so long as he wasn't here, wasn't doing things to him or Cloud, Hojo was welcome to go anywhere he liked. But then, on the other hand, Zack dreaded the quiet nights. The quiet nights were the nights when, on the rare occasion that he was lucid enough to put together thoughts, he was left alone with them.
It was just that, sometimes, his thoughts came with somebody else's voice. And sometimes they asked the strangest questions. His DMW glitching, perhaps. After all, it wasn't as though his head hadn't taken more than its fair share of damage here, too.
He smiled at the question tonight, though. Even if that smile was somewhere inside of his own head, he couldn't help but smile.
She wasn't like Aerith, who could talk to the Planet (though she was more like Aerith than she was like anyone else on Gaia) but flowers were old, sweet friends.
These were Aerith's flowers, but they knew her too.
"Yes," she said, content to be a bit ridiculous when it was flowers, her, and a ghost of a memory that she wasn't thinking about tonight, not really. "Your mom. Has she been well? You're all nicely taken care of, so I assume so."
That seemed like such an odd question. An odd way to say it, as well. But then... this had to be a dream. And in his dreams, maybe he was taken care of.
Maybe in his dreams, he could answer questions like that when that familiar voice asked them.
I hope she's well, he found himself thinking, wistfulness in that notion. Will you keep an eye on her for me?
How odd she must look, if anyone were to wander in here, a Turk with pale hair that reflected moonlight, talking to the flowers like they could talk back to her.
But Ino's shields were down and she was quite alone. There was a drunk three streets over staggering home. There were few kids, a couple of blocks away, gambling with their few, precious gil. There were so, so many people settling down for the night.
But there was precious little going on around her, in the quiet bubble of silence that the church always seemed to hold.
"I always do," she said to the flowers, because admitting she was talking to anything, or anyone more, led to... she wasn't thinking about it. "You know that. I always look out for what's mine."
To the best of her ability. She hadn't been so good at it in one case but, so far, she'd managed for everyone else.
You do, Zack agreed, and he tried so, so hard to keep a pang out of that thought, but somewhere deep down, there was a touch of melancholy. Even when he'd decided that he was going to think pleasant thoughts. Some things were difficult to let go of completely. You protect your own in any way you can.
Sometimes... sometimes, she just didn't know to be there.
He barely had the strength to, but he managed, at least, to wrap his arms around himself. It was cold in here tonight.
She shivered, then shook her head. It wasn't cold in Midgar. Just October and, while it wasn't warm, it was a pretty normal autumn and she was dressed in a suit.
But part of her was still cold. Maybe it was the way her thoughts were going, darker than she'd wanted.
(Not darker than she'd expected, though, honestly. There'd been many reasons she'd wanted to be alone tonight.)
"I'm not great at it," she admitted to the flowers. "Failed the most important test."
And colder still. The fluid that Hojo had Zack suspended in clearly had some sort of chill to it, tonight.
It... was night, right? There were no windows to speak of down here, there was no way of knowing. But sometimes, in moments like this, he almost felt that he could be sure.
You would have tried, though. If you'd known. Right?
"Always," she said, and stood, being careful not to take any of the flowers with her. They didn't deserve to die because she was in a mood tonight.
Even if she couldn't decide what that mood was.
"I always try. Always. Even if I have no plan, no chance."
It was one of those traits that was one day going to make Tseng turn gray. Just like Rosa's inability to stay on the line when he said something she didn't like.
There was a tightrope in her mind that she had to walk carefully because--because she'd fallen off of it before, when it came to this sort of thing, and it was ugly, she was ugly when it happened.
Aerith could talk to the dead. Could hear their spirits as they passed to the Lifestream.
She'd never heard Zack.
But... but Ino di--
"This is kind of lame," she admitted, flopping down on one of the pews. "Empty church, bunch of flowers for company. I could be celebrating my birthday, you know? But I didn't much feel like it. It ain't been my thing for a while."
He frowned, there in his mind, and realized that he had no idea how many of those he had missed by now.
You're... twenty, now?
It was a swing and a miss, he was sure. But the passage of time wasn't something easily kept track of. Not down here. He'd lost so much of it. Too much of it.
"Not me," she said, slouching a little. "Twenty-two. Finally legal for everything back where we met. Not that it matters here. Gaia don't sweat that sort of thing much."
Twenty-two, Zack echoed. That meant he had missed... too many years. For the life of him, he had no idea why he could daydream up something like that. This was a quiet night.
It was a quiet night. And now he was torturing himself.
Clearly, he was bad at taking advantage of the reprieve.
It's been too long. I lose track, not even sometimes. Time doesn't mean much anymore, I guess.
Except that Ino's life was slipping by, and he wasn't even a part of it.
I've always been constantly surprised by you, Zack offered, some warmth in his tone that didn't quite make up for how cold his body felt, tonight. I'm glad you're still here. Who would I talk to, if you weren't?
It would be lonely in here, making up conversations in his head with nobody in particular.
It was just that, sometimes, his thoughts came with somebody else's voice. And sometimes they asked the strangest questions. His DMW glitching, perhaps. After all, it wasn't as though his head hadn't taken more than its fair share of damage here, too.
He smiled at the question tonight, though. Even if that smile was somewhere inside of his own head, he couldn't help but smile.
My mom?
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She wasn't like Aerith, who could talk to the Planet (though she was more like Aerith than she was like anyone else on Gaia) but flowers were old, sweet friends.
These were Aerith's flowers, but they knew her too.
"Yes," she said, content to be a bit ridiculous when it was flowers, her, and a ghost of a memory that she wasn't thinking about tonight, not really. "Your mom. Has she been well? You're all nicely taken care of, so I assume so."
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Maybe in his dreams, he could answer questions like that when that familiar voice asked them.
I hope she's well, he found himself thinking, wistfulness in that notion. Will you keep an eye on her for me?
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But Ino's shields were down and she was quite alone. There was a drunk three streets over staggering home. There were few kids, a couple of blocks away, gambling with their few, precious gil. There were so, so many people settling down for the night.
But there was precious little going on around her, in the quiet bubble of silence that the church always seemed to hold.
"I always do," she said to the flowers, because admitting she was talking to anything, or anyone more, led to... she wasn't thinking about it. "You know that. I always look out for what's mine."
To the best of her ability. She hadn't been so good at it in one case but, so far, she'd managed for everyone else.
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Sometimes... sometimes, she just didn't know to be there.
He barely had the strength to, but he managed, at least, to wrap his arms around himself. It was cold in here tonight.
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But part of her was still cold. Maybe it was the way her thoughts were going, darker than she'd wanted.
(Not darker than she'd expected, though, honestly. There'd been many reasons she'd wanted to be alone tonight.)
"I'm not great at it," she admitted to the flowers. "Failed the most important test."
Which still burned, years later.
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It... was night, right? There were no windows to speak of down here, there was no way of knowing. But sometimes, in moments like this, he almost felt that he could be sure.
You would have tried, though. If you'd known. Right?
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Even if she couldn't decide what that mood was.
"I always try. Always. Even if I have no plan, no chance."
It was one of those traits that was one day going to make Tseng turn gray. Just like Rosa's inability to stay on the line when he said something she didn't like.
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He loved her for it, after all. Zack was silent (more silent, anyway) for a moment or two, and then venture, I don't get to talk to you often enough.
He didn't get to talk to anybody often enough, granted. But that one seemed like it deserved a mention regardless.
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There was a tightrope in her mind that she had to walk carefully because--because she'd fallen off of it before, when it came to this sort of thing, and it was ugly, she was ugly when it happened.
Aerith could talk to the dead. Could hear their spirits as they passed to the Lifestream.
She'd never heard Zack.
But... but Ino di--
"This is kind of lame," she admitted, flopping down on one of the pews. "Empty church, bunch of flowers for company. I could be celebrating my birthday, you know? But I didn't much feel like it. It ain't been my thing for a while."
Since he'd left.
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He frowned, there in his mind, and realized that he had no idea how many of those he had missed by now.
You're... twenty, now?
It was a swing and a miss, he was sure. But the passage of time wasn't something easily kept track of. Not down here. He'd lost so much of it. Too much of it.
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It was a quiet night. And now he was torturing himself.
Clearly, he was bad at taking advantage of the reprieve.
It's been too long. I lose track, not even sometimes. Time doesn't mean much anymore, I guess.
Except that Ino's life was slipping by, and he wasn't even a part of it.
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Who wasn't part of whose life again?
"Not really," she agreed. "All those big numbers and stuff that mattered, well, they don't seem to matter no more."
It was pretty sad, really, but Ino was better than she'd been, back when it had been new pain.
"Still here, though," she said. "Pretty surprised."
By her living or by his staying around? How about both? It would have been easier if she hadn't had both.
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It would be lonely in here, making up conversations in his head with nobody in particular.
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For conversations with dead people. Ino couldn't say that.
"You probably don't know," she said, "but Tseng and I got married."
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