(Author's Note: Remember how I said earlier that I had written ahead a few chapters? Well this is one of them! I sat on it for a while so everyone can have something to read halfway through the month, to prolong the enjoyment, in a way. I really had fun with this one! One of my dear readers actually guessed the nature of this chapter ahead of time, so Anatherin gets a cookie!

Everyone say "Hi, Zack!")

...I Wrote You A Letter

Like any well-adjusted person, there were many things Cloud regretted about himself. There were many things he would love to change and spend many an hour longingly imagining about how much nicer things would be.

For example, he was too shy. He was very much aware of just how shy he was and how infuriating it could be. He just couldn't help it. Whenever a pretty girl - especially one pretty girl in particular - came up to him, he would just clam up. He didn't know how or why but he could feel it, like a suffocating tide creeping around him and stuffing his mouth with dry cotton. At times, the shyness felt like an iron curtain that dropped with startling swiftness between him and the rest of the world, too tall and thick for him to ever hope of shouting over.

He also couldn't hide his emotions very well. His mother could always read him like an open book, as could Tifa, and now Zack was the same. Sure, Cloud could stop at a door, take a deep, calming breath, carefully set his features into a blank, neutral mask, but the second he stepped through that doorway, Zack would instantly know he'd been having a bad day, or had been denied a promotion. It wasn't fair, darn it. It seemed like every person out there could convincingly decieve others at least to some degree but it was a skill that constantly eluded him.

There were other things that Cloud would like to change about himself, of course. For example, he wished his hair wasn't quite so noticeable. Being dubbed the 'chocobo' of the garrison was not amusing. His eyebrows looked evil. He never tanned, he only reached a well-done bacon crisp. And if he could just grow another five inches taller, that'd be a dream come true.

But at the moment, while he sat in his quarters with Zack haranguing him, the thing he most regretted about himself was the inability to know when to keep his everlasting mouth shut.

"Come on, dude, it's easy!" Zack said for the millionth time. "Just pick up the phone and call her. Tell her how you feel, it's a lot easier and you'll feel better when you get it done and over with. Better than sitting here moping about her all the time, right?"

Cloud sighed and said for the millionth time, "It isn't that easy, Zack."

"Why not?"

Cloud began to shrug, evading the answer as he always did, then stopped himself. Shrugging and evading hadn't gotten Zack to leave. If anything, it made him more persistent and Cloud just wanted to enjoy a little quiet time after a long day of marching. Much as he loved Zack as a best friend, he just couldn't fathom where he got all that energy from. So Cloud tried a different tack.

"I just... I don't sound natural over the phone. It feels weird." This much was true - Nibelheim had been a very small town and why use a phone when a brisk walk through seven feet of snow to your neighbor's house was faster and not impeded by a downed phone line?

Zack's eyes brightened with understanding. "Ah, you start mumbling and stuff? Really long, awkward silences?"

Cloud thought about that. He mumbled a lot when speaking to anyone. And there were always really awkward silences when he talked to Tifa in particular. Even though he'd never really talked to her over the phone, it was a fair bet he'd just do the same thing. He nodded. "Yeah. It sounds fine in my head but when I try to say anything..." He sighed. "It just comes out weird."

Zack hummed, staring at the floor, one foot tapping out a rapid beat. Cloud suppressed another weary sigh. That was Zack's thinking pose, something he only used when he was really adamant about something and wouldn't leave off.

Oh sweet Gaia, why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut about Tifa? It'd seemed innocent enough at the time when Zack realized he was always talking about this flower girl he met and Cloud never contributed about his own relationships. Long story short, Zack had kept asking and Cloud didn't think it would do any harm and now here he was, being forced by his best friend into talking to the girl of his dreams when he had no idea what to say or do.

In all honesty, Cloud was beginning to panic. Zack had easily explained away all the excuses Cloud had told himself - and believed - over the years to avoid the matter. He was running out of reasons not to follow through with it and he knew he'd melt into a puddle of embarrassment should the call happen.

And Zack, being the ever so helpful, considerate, ladies' man extraordinaire and Cloud's best friend, had taken Cloud's demure attitude as a personal challenge. As far as Zack was concerned, he was the master of wooing and Cloud was his spiky-headed little apprentice. While the sentiment was appreciated, Cloud knew no amount of advice could help him. Of course, that didn't stop Zack, who exuberantly began to give out his professional opinion and secret techniques with glee.

If Cloud didn't know better, he'd have said Zack enjoyed playing matchmaker.

Thus, Cloud was still enduring his lesson About Girls and How To Talk To Them. The past two hours had been wearying and Cloud didn't believe a fraction of what Zack kept repeating.

Talking to the girl you loved couldn't possibly be just as simple as mustering the courage to tell her how you felt. No, Cloud didn't trust that logic one bit. It was so simple it immediately made him suspicious. There was way too much that could go wrong and besides, actions speak louder than words, right? Well, here he was, going to war to prove he loved her. That sounded like a sure bet of showing a girl how one felt.

Except... he wasn't exactly sure she knew that...

Gah, you see? Zack kept turning it around on him, and pushing him to call Tifa. Cloud knew that would be a disaster if that happened. Just thinking about her in Nibelheim made his stomach turn to water. She always had that effect on him, even thousands of miles away. Cloud sighed and leaned back on his bed, letting his head rest against the back wall as he sank into his favorite pastime - thinking about Tifa.

Yeah, if he called her, he'd probably be interrupting her. She was never a person to sit idle for long; it made her go stir crazy. But it'd be mid winter over in Nibelheim and he knew she liked to read a book on snowy, frigid days. That's probably what she's doing right now.

He could see it right now, down to every perfect detail. Tifa would probably be sitting on the couch near the fire, a heavy blanket thrown over her legs - her long, pale, perfect legs that made his palms itch whenever he saw them, and he knew the only way to stop that maddening tingle would be to run his hands down that creamy length of skin. She probably had some hot chocolate on the table next to her, the kind with marshmallows, and every time she took a sip, it'd leave a little white on her lip she'd have to lick off. While she read, she'd play with a bit of her hair, too; he knew because he watched her often enough. Just one long strand of that dark, midnight hair would be coiled around one finger, then she'd pull it straight and coil it around her finger again, over and over and over-

"-to her."

"What?" Cloud snapped out of his reverie.

"I said you could always write to her," Zack said.

"What. You mean a letter?"

"No, I mean a poem or maybe a song and some of the guys can record it and we'll get a big-shot DJ to play it on the radio - of course a freaking letter, you ass, what else?" Zack leveled him with a sardonic look and Cloud grimaced. Okay yeah, he'd deserved that one.

However, the idea did merit some thought. It sure beat calling her, and the process was long and boring enough that Zack would leave him alone about it, out of sheer boredom. However...

"What would I write about?"

"Shit, I dunno. Write about training. Missions, what you do every day, funny stories. Write about your favorite coffee shop, how you wanna be back home! Write about anything!" Zack flung his hands in the air to encompass the myriad possibilities. "Chicks dig that kind of thing. Normal stuff becomes really romantic when you put it in a handwritten letter."

Cloud snorted softly. Sure, he believed that alright. But, if it got Zack to leave him alone...

"Hand me some paper."

"Alright, man!" Zack went rifling through the desk until he found some unlined paper and a working pen. Then, not seeming to notice that Cloud wasn't moving himself along whatsoever, he grabbed the blond and put him in the desk chair. "Remember man, just write it out naturally. The more random crap you put in there, the more they'll love it."

"Right." No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite keep the skepticism out of that. Cloud took up the pen and sat there with it poised above the paper. Zack waited expectantly.

Cloud gave him an irritated look. "Do you mind?"

"What? Oh. Right! Yeah, so, I'll go then. Yeah." With a lot of blustering and a bit of tricky sidestepping in the cramped quarters, Zack managed to make it to the door. There he stopped, making a great show of checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"So if you need any help-"

"Goodbye, Zack."

"Okay, alright, I'm leaving." Zack raised his hands in defeat and left the room. Just as he was about to close the door, he poked his head back in. "However, you might want to keep the thing about the rash to yourself," he said loudly, his voice carrying down the hall. Just past Zack's shoulder, Cloud could see another Shinra grunt shoot them both an odd look. "Good luck!" Zack said cheerfully and closed the door. A second later, the pillow Cloud slung at him hit the door and dropped the floor, looking battered and forlorn.

"You ass!" Cloud shouted, hoping Zack heard him, knowing he probably didn't. He could hear Zack singing cheerfully on the other side, the sound fading as he walked away.

Cloud sank back into his chair, muttering dire threats under his breath. It had happened during training, a year ago! It could've happened to anybody - but of all the people there, only he'd been tossed into the patch of prickly leaves and ended up having a severe allergic reaction to it. Within an hour, he looked like a bloated purple hippo with shocking blond hair. He'd looked so ridiculous that whenever someone came by that wasn't his attending medical staff, he'd pulled the covers over his head. No one had known about it but a few of the medical staff and, of course, Zack.

The bastard.

Cloud sighed, adjusted the paper, picked up the pen and came to a sudden realization.

He had no idea what to write about.

He sighed.

He blinked at the paper a few times.

He tapped the pencil on the desk because he'd seen others do that but the sound only irritated him.

"This isn't helping," he muttered. "Think, Cloud. How do you start a letter?"

Well, that was obvious. Biting his lip with concentration, Cloud finally put pen to paper.

Dear Tifa,

Well, that wasn't hard. Now what?

Cloud stared at the paper. How did he begin to write down everything she meant to him? How was he supposed to detail everything she did to him without even trying? Where was he supposed to start? What chapter in his long love for her was the right place to begin?

How could he possibly put down what she meant to him in mere words, puny little things can could never hold the truth he wanted to put in them? The task before him seemed impossible. There was no way he could write out the depth and breadth of what she meant to him, of how the merest brush of her hand on his arm would devastate him for days. There were no words that could possibly convey the quiet and incredible power that, when times were particularly rough and he was sick for home, he was always soothed by thoughts of her. Thoughts and hopes that when he came home at long last, she would be there to greet him with her shy smile and a gentle hug like tender kisses on his soul.

There existed no words, no language known to man, Cloud realized, that could translate love.

But maybe he could try.

Biting his lip in concentration, Cloud bent over the paper once again. It's been a while since I've seen you and a lot has happened. Write about random crap, Zack had said. Well, why not? It was love of her that motivated everything he did, anyway. It was the reason why he was here. I guess I'll start with training since I'm not sure where else to begin. The first thing they did was shave all our hair off. It felt weird at first, like my head was a lot lighter and can only imagine the jokes people will tell if I say that out loud. It grew back fine but they make us keep it short and I'm not sure if you'll like it or not. I remember you always said my hair reminded you of a chocobo and I hope this haircut hasn't changed that...

Hours later, Zack quietly opened the door of Cloud's room to find Cloud fast asleep, slumped over at his desk. Zack, suddenly quiet and as graceful as SOLDIER training and conditioning could make, silently padded over and grinned at the sight. Pages and pages of letters littered the desk, all covered in the narrow and precise print of Cloud's handwriting. Zack left, letting his friend sleep.

The next morning, he'd act like he'd completely forgotten about the letter idea. Cloud had always been the shy type and any prodding, friendly or not, would probably shame him into stopping the letters, and he didn't need that. Cloud was a good kid, he just needed a little encouragement and, occasionally, a swift kick in the ass. But given the chance, he would build up his own head of steam and not need any more encouragement - or boots to the ass.

The next morning, Cloud was a little suspicious when Zack seemed to have entirely forgotten about the letter and Tifa ordeal. He wasn't sure that it had really slipped Zack's mind, he'd been so adamant about it, but then it was Zack he was dealing with here. That name alone could summon up buildings full of lost data. Even so, Cloud didn't relax and truly believe that Zack had forgotten everything until the third day had passed without the SOLDIER mentioning it.

Zack's instincts were good. Cloud did continue to write the letters, pouring out the small things that happened each day and with each letter, managing to put in a little bit of how he felt about Tifa, telling her in ways that were subtle and circumspect and impossibly sweet that she occupied his every thought. He hadn't sent them yet, but he knew that with each letter, the iron wall of shyness was breaking a little more and soon, very soon, he'd take the first letter to the postmaster in the barracks and send it back home.

To Tifa.

xXxXx

A little more than a year later, and those letters were still unsent, sitting in his backpack while Nibelheim burned. The hotel where it sat in was big and nearly as old as the mountains, and took a long time to succumb to the flames. The nylon backpack shrunk in the heat, twisting upon itself into a molten puddle, and the letters that Cloud carried everywhere with him spilled onto the floor. As the flames licked at their corners, the pages curled in on themselves, as if shrinking away from the heat. A fast enough reader could see all the heartfelt words and enjoy all the stories that Cloud had faithfully put to paper.

Every letter started with Dear Tifa.

Every letter ended with Love, Cloud.

A fast enough reader would also cry at the story of love that had been so cruelly cut short. Because it was obvious in the letters - it didn't come out and say it, but it was there, in between all the self-deprecating humor, all the stories and laments for a home and a girl continents away, it was there. A secret that now only the flames would ever know.

Somehow, in his impossible, quiet way, Cloud had managed to translate love.