Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ May to December ❯ Hojo: An Unusual Knight ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Lady Aoi 
Hojo's side of Chapter 1: The Professor encounters an injured Elena and hatches a plot...
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.6K | Visits: 157 | Status: Completed
Hojo's side of Chapter 1: The Professor encounters an injured Elena and hatches a plot...
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.6K | Visits: 157 | Status: Completed
May to December
Chapter 2: Hojo: An Unusual Knight
A FF7 Fan Fic
by
Lady Aoi
Summary: Hojo has a lot to think about regarding a certain Turk...
Pairing: You read that right, kids. Elena/Hojo. Old Hojo.
Rating: R for Angst, sexuality, language, Hojoness
Disclaimer: The lovely Hojo and the magnificent Elena do not belong to me. Neither does Heidegger, Scarlet, Reno, Rude, Tseng or anyone else who may wander into this fic just to watch. All these wonderful characters are owned by Square Soft. Please don't sue me. I really *do* need to buy FF8 someday...
Lady Aoi's Notes: Just so those of you following M2D aren't confused by the sudden chapter rearranging/addition, let me clarify: I decided the fic would make more sense if Hojo got to tell things from his perspective, too. So, from now on, chapters will alternate between Elena and Hojo, in that order. Elena will tell her side of her interaction with Hojo, and then Hojo will tell the interaction from his point of view. However, as both characters do not spend all their time talking to each other, the alternating view points will not simply retell the story's events. In other words, as Elena spends most of her time with Reno and Rude and Hojo with Shinra's executives (or most often alone), the alternating view points will also give the story a wider scope (at least that's my hope -_-;). Enjoy.
~*~
From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, I knew my life was going to change.
I also knew that I had fallen asleep with my head on the keyboard again, because the tip of my nose was suspiciously sore and my computer screen was covered with three-thousand one-hundred and twenty-five pages of yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Hm... Why, indeed?
As I highlight and delete the superfluous letters from what was supposed to have been the notes for my latest project, the meddlesome things shimmer and blur into unbroken black bars. ...Ah. Of course. I locate my glasses next to my half-empty coffee mug and put them in their proper place. Instantly, the world leaps back into focus along with the existential question on my computer screen:
Why?
Odd that the Universe has an even poorer grasp of spelling than it has of timing. The real question it should ask me is: how.
How do I know today will not simply consist of the same idiotic routines? I have spent the greater part of the last fifteen years doing nothing but putting out the daily real and figurative fires begun by the incompetents assigned to work for me. Misplaced files, broken equipment, whiney graduate students asking for the weekend off because 'my wife's in the hospital having a baby, sir.' Hehehe. Oh, if they only knew how I responded to a similar 'crisis' at their age! Perhaps then they would understand why I show my sympathies in the form of a pink slip as opposed to the sugar-coated insincerities of greeting cards.
So, how can I be certain my day will consist of more substantial things than changing my workers' diapers? Is it because I sense a change in the air? Has some planet retrograded in my favor? Do my bowels tremble with the sweet excitement of a foregone conclusion?
I cannot say. Actually my back is hurting again. Maybe this is how I know.
But something important is going to happen today, and I do not mean Shinra's ridiculous bread and circuses parade. That is my hypothesis.
With a final keystroke, I eliminate the last 'y' from the screen.
~*~
Despite my... foreknowledge, my day progresses rather quietly. My lab assistant brings the wrong stack of Cetra files from the library and then decides to put himself even further into my good graces by spilling my coffee over said files. After he cleans them up, I re-demote him on the spot. Ten minutes later, I receive the first of the day's telephone calls. I let it ring. It is probably Shinra. After he calls for the third time, I finally cave in and snatch the phone from its cradle.
"Hojo."
"Hojo?"
"Yes."
"Hojo?"< br>
Yes, it's Hojo, you imbecile! Hojo! Hoh-joh. The head of your scientific research. The man who could throw this entire company into a tale spin if he were to resign. And he would like to, believe me. Forty years of your unimaginative rule has been quite enough for me, despite the brilliant work I have done here.
"Yes."
"Hojo?"
I cannot help but roll my eyes. "Yes, President Shinra, my name is Hojo. Simon Hojo. I have been on your payroll for the last thirty-five years, yet you have not given me a raise in the last seven. Regardless of your lack of real understanding of my work, I nevertheless *do* have an actual job and one which keeps me busier than any three of your other executives combined on even the lightest of days. Now, if your incessant ringing of my telephone was done solely to distract me from this work, then let me be the first to congratulate you. You have succeeded far beyond your wildest dreams. If, on the other hand, you actually do have something to say to me, you have three minutes in which to do so."
As one may reasonably expect, Shinra's side of the line remains silent-- a silence for quite sometime. I just sigh and wait for his inevitable recovery -- and his inevitable braying into the receiver. To the best of my knowledge, I am the only senior executive who can deal openly and honestly with our esteemed small minded President. Palmer lacks the brains, Heidegger lacks the nerve, Scarlet is too busy fucking him on the side to need more leverage, and Reeve is too busy fucking Shinra's son to notice much of anything else... except, of course, for the potential suffering of the unwashed masses Shinra supposedly serves. I have yet to determine if his concern is the result of idealism or idiocy.
"Hojo," The president splutters out at last.
I just grin. "That's my name. Say it again and I'll tell you the same."
I almost think this juvenile rhyme upsets our fearless leader more than my previous taunts. "Hojo, stop fucking around and listen!"
"Oh, believe me, sir; I have no choice but to listen to you even when I am lucky enough to be fucking around with your mistress. Out of curiosity, has she ever called my name when you --"
"Dammit, Hojo! Quit being vulgar and get down to the seventeenth floor *now*! We need to go over some final security details for today's parade!"
Oh, I wonder if he means the one I intend to avoid. "Ah, yes! Today is your fortieth anniversary, is it not? Congratulations. Good bye now."
"Hojo, god damn it!!!" The president sighs. "... just... don't do this to me."
"If I come down, will you give me my raise?"
"....." Another sigh. Long and heavy this time. "Very well."
"Thank you." Ahh, the joys of playing with senile President Shinra... he hates me. Everyone hates me. Everyone always hates the indispensable man, especially when they are forced to give him money, power or, worst of all, deference.
I think I will take my time getting to the meeting. My back is bothering me again and walking down all those stairs to the elevator is a difficult task.
~*~
As the elevator slowly descends, I find my thoughts returning to the project now tucked securely away behind several security fields on my computer upstairs. Again I wonder why it has taken so long to implement. Granted, I have been busy: Jenova, Sephiroth, a messy affair with Scarlet, a coffee machine which breaks every other day... even so, this particular project is long overdue and very, very urgent. Especially to a man of my age.
I am going to have another child.
Many of my so-called colleagues know about my marriage to Lucrecia Kestrel, an attractive lab assistant who died tragically in Nibelheim thirty years ago. Through my influence, however, not even President Shinra knows about the young life she birthed minutes away from her untimely fate. For that matter, neither does Sephiroth, as I alone know the security protocols to his background information.
Sephiroth is a perfect, if ungrateful son. Intelligent, strong, beautiful... the best qualities of Lucrecia and Simon Hojo intensified by the Jenova cells in my late wife's bloodstream and the mako I exposed him to at age eight. Although he often speaks in less than flattering terms about my research, character and sexual prowess (to my face, most of the time), he is, nonetheless, every father's unrealized dream: a conduit through which to relive his youth and claim his proper place among the stars. Ah, yes... Sephiroth is the pentagram and I the magician. Through him I will conjure unfettered by demons and wraiths.
And yet, is it not also every father's dream to have even more than this? If Sephiroth is my pentagram, my second child shall be my very conjuring staff. And with my two children, I will not only claim a place among the stars, I will claim the very stars themselves as my own.
Besides, I always wanted a daughter.
The only difficulty that remains is finding a second Lucrecia. And I do not mean a test subject. Lord knows, if I wanted a cadaver or a pair of ovaries on legs, I could have easily obtained one thousands of times over by now. I do not want for mako nor for Jenova cells, as Jenova is herself currently subdued in a tank mere meters from my office. I only want, in fact, for a suitable Lucrecia. For a time I thought Scarlet would be my daughter's mother... but Scarlet had other plans. And none of the women I have courted since our affair's end have possessed the strength, endurance, intelligence and... well, beauty of my first wife. It is a shame. I am beginning to think I will have to resort to measures reserved for the likes of Don Corneo, my rival for the title of Midgard's most notorious lecher. Maybe if I choose three women a night, conduct a proper physical examination and interview... yes, the idea has potential. I can always say I am hunting for a new bride. Scarlet will be scandalized. Another added benefit.
As the elevator stops on the seventeenth floor, I am resolved. I will begin interviewing tomorr-- ow. My back willing, that is.
Before I can even begin to consider a list of potential 'bachellorettes', however, my heart is nearly thrown out of kilter by an all-too familiar bellowing. Heidegger. And from the metallic crunching sounds punctuating his screams of "Or this!" like gunfire, I can only assume he is beating another hapless soldier.
Lucky me. I get to walk right through the battle field. Gritting my teeth, I round the corner -
And walk straight into a slaughterhouse.
Granted, Heidegger is a savage, but I always thought he had his limits. That was before I was treated to the sight of him pounding a bloody corpse with the butt of a riffle. There are very few things in this world that frighten me. But I must say, adrenaline begins coursing through my veins when Heidegger turns towards me, riffle held menacingly at his side.
Neither of us speaks. I wonder fleetingly if Heidegger even remembers how at the moment. In the silence, I allow myself to glance at the body. This situation is indeed critical. If I am not careful, I may also spend this festive day in a Shinra, Inc. body bag.
"Stay out of this, Hojo!" Heidegger growls. "This has nothing to do with you!"
Unfortunately, my dear Heidegger, you have just involved me by aiming your riffle for my left eye. I cannot fail to notice the gore covering its end, either. But I must stay calm... I must get him away from here...
Subtly, I hold my hands out to my sides while standing straight. My eyes flick to Heidegger's own bloodshot pair. Yes, regardless of the situation, I must stay in character. Now is not the time to cave into passivity.
"That may be, general," I tell him with my usual curtness. "But your carrying on is proving to be quite the distraction. I'd wager technicians can hear your bellowing from here to the twenty-fifth floor."
"That so?" The general barks. And yet, my tactic seems to have worked. He has not cocked the gun, nor has he taken another step towards me.
"Indeed. Now, why don't you go make yourself useful by screaming at and/or beating up the cadets who are presumably taking your lead and pestering some of my workers, hmm?"
"What the --?!"
"Yes, that's right. I hardly think you can effectively prepare for this parade with a dozen of your own cadets drunkenly wandering around the laboratory on the forty-first floor, but that's just my humble opinion." A lie on my part. There is no laboratory on the forty-first floor. Nor are their any cadets or technicians. In fact, the forty-first floor is Shinra security's headquarters. I am banking on Heidegger's adrenaline charged mind to allow him to forget this detail. If I can get send him to the appropriate floor, the SOLDIERs and Elite Guards will take note of the blood on his hands and his general raving and confine him to a holding cell.
However, Heidegger is just standing there staring at me as if I were a candidate for his lunch. Methinks he needs more convincing. I decide to pull rank.
"Now, President Shinra, on the other hand, might see things in a somewhat different light." And indeed these prove the magic words. Snorting and swearing at his phantom cadets, Heidegger pushes past me and thunders towards the elevator. "Yes, you have a nice day, too!" I call after him. He does not even grunt to acknowledge my taunt as the steel doors close behind him. Seconds later, the elevator begins to rise...and I begin to breathe again.
Thankfully, this building's architect possessed enough sense to equip each floor with two emergency call boxes. I locate the nearest one and dial the number for building maintenance.
"Hojo, here. You need to send a crew to the seventeenth floor. Blood and a dead body are involved, so you may also want to bring appropriate protection." As the startled dispatcher asks me to repeat myself, I look the corpse over fully for the first time. "Yes, you heard me correctly. There is a dead body in the seventeenth floor's central corridor. The walls are also covered with blood. Heidegger is responsible so I also suggest you alert security. No, this is not a joke!" And then the corpse twitches and sighs. I stop talking and watch as she takes a shaky, gasping breath. It seems she is alive...
"You also need to contact a medical team and send them here immediately," I inform the dispatcher. He just splutters for another repeat. "We have no time for this!" I shout into the receiver. "Do as you're told! Send a medical team to the seventeenth floor's main corridor *NOW*!" And with that I slam the receiver back into its cradle and turn to the woman at my feet.
Woman? No, more of a girl. Even though her face is pressed against the floor, her build is such that I imagine she can be no older than eighteen. Fighting back my urge to follow Heidegger, castrate him and nail him to the nearest wall, I slowly kneel and rest my hand against the girl's neck. A weak pulse dances against my fingertips. She is alive, but she may not be by the time the medics arrive. I need to act quickly. After checking to see if her neck is broken (it is not), I gingerly move the cadet onto her back (ignoring the painful protests from my own)...
And I nearly forget what I am doing at the sight of her face.
Despite her black eye, bruised cheek and split lip she is... breathtaking. Literally. Healthy, cream colored skin, soft blonde hair, high, narrow cheek bones, a slender roman nose... hm.... Hm....
I'm thinking with the wrong head. And now is certainly not the time for this to happen. I can look later. I must act now. The girl is bleeding from several wounds on her back, arms, legs and face. Most of them are slight enough to ignore for the time being, but I don't like the looks of that gash on her side. Two of her ribs are fractured, thus making a tourniquet an impractical solution to say the least. If I had a restore materia...
And then the situation becomes more complicated as the girl moans and begins going into shock. Oh well. At least I can do something about that. Thankfully, someone has propped a janitorial closet open with a small stool. I take this and slide it beneath the girl's feet, noting as I do that her ankle is badly sprained. After draping my lab coat over her trembling body, I pillow her head against my right knee.
"Shhh, don't move," I tell her as she whimpers and tries to roll her head away. To steady her, I slip my hand onto her shoulder and stroke it lightly. Where is that medical team?! And now is certainly not the time for thoughts of the kind I am having! "You're going to be fine," I murmur as I brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. Hopefully, she believes this platitude.
I do not remain long in this position before the elevator doors ping open and a medical team floods into the hallway. I resist the urge to scream at them for their incompetence (really, five minutes before answering a call from two floors beneath you?) and simply move out of the way as my knee is replaced by a pillow and Cure3 is utilized. Granted, this is enough to stop the worst of her bleeding, but will she live? These witch doctors and their material! "You've used that enough! She needs to go in for treatment immediately!"
To make matters even more complicated, the entire Shinra, Inc. board of directors chooses that particular moment to flood out of the conference room at the hallway's end. As I stand to face them, I cannot help but wonder what in the hell took them this long between Heidegger's bellowing and my own shouted orders.
Reeve is the first to reach us. His face immediately palls and a whimper that sounds suspiciously like "oh my god" escapes his lips as he backs up into an equally shell-shocked Shinra. For her part, Scarlet remains calm... at least until Palmer waddles out of the conference room to make the situation even more surreal.
"Hey, hey! What's going on out here?! Hey, Reeve! Can you move, huh? I can't see what's going on! What are all these people in funny coats doing here?! Scarlet, what's the ma- oh..." Palmer takes one look at the gore-splattered hallway and its gore-splattered occupants before promptly fainting dead away... right on top of Reeve. As the head of Shinra's urban development struggles frantically to disengage himself from Palmer's girth, I begin to laugh uncontrollably. Hahaha! Trust Matthew Palmer to turn even the direst of situations into low comedy!
Shinra, however, does not appreciate my sense of humor. "Hojo, stop that!" he barks. "Stop laughing and tell us what the hell is going on!"
"Ha...hah...I'm not exactly sure, sir."
"Scarlet, see if you can help Reeve out, would you?"
Shrugging, Scarlet kneels down and tries to roll Palmer off the struggling executive. Shinra then blocks my view of the scene by stepping in front of me.
"For the last time, Hojo, what the hell happened?!"
"I'm not sure," I repeat. "I was on my way to meet with you when walked into this mess."
"You just found the woman lying here?"
I shake my head and relate the entire sordid story. Shinra's face is pale long before I'm finished.
"Damn that Heidegger," he growls. "And to pull a stunt like this on *today* of all days..." he shakes his fist. I am reminded of a corpulent baby crying because he dropped his candy in the dirt. "Do you have any idea why he did this?"
"None whatsoever," I say as I lean down and pick up a riffle. "But judging from the guns littered all over the hallway, I believe I have a hypothesis. The cadet - or perhaps she and a partner - were most likely caring these weapons to a storage locker. Along the way, they dropped them and in doing so got on the good general's sole remaining nerve."
Shinra looks ready to murder someone. "I'll teach him a lesson or two!"
"Yes, please see that you do. I'm not sure how many more of his antics I can stand at my age. Or that any of us can stand, for that matter. "
"You said you saw him taking the elevator up to the forty-first floor?"
"I believe so. Why don't you call and see if they've apprehended him?"
"Yes, I suppose I should see to this matter personally," the President bows curtly. "Thanks for your help, Hojo."
"You can thank me by giving me another raise, sir."
His eyes darken. "Don't push your luck."
I shrug. "Don't call during work hours."
He knows it's just not his day. "We'll talk about this in my office tomorrow, Hojo."
"Of course." As Shinra turns and walks away, Scarlet throws her back into her work and finally manages to roll the space program director off Reeve.
Reeve just lies on his stomach, apparently too stunned to move.
"Reeve, are you alright?" Scarlet asks.
For his part, the young man just shudders. "My whole life flashed before my eyes," he whimpers.
As the first two medics load the now (evidently) stable girl onto a gurney, I take the third aside. "You probably want to call some reinforcements," I inform her as I gesture to the scene behind me. "Palmer seems to have fainted on top of Reeve. Neither of them is better off because of it." That done, I turn back to Scarlet, who appears to be struggling to suppress her notorious laugh. "My dear, I believe we have done all we can do here," I offer her my arm. "Why don't we leave?"
"Precisely my thoughts, Simon," she disdains to take my arm. "But must we do so together?"
"I suppose you could take the stairs instead. But if you are going to do so, might I recommend informing these poor medics of the situation before hand? The urban development office is thirty-five flights of stairs from this floor, Scarlet. And those impossible shoes of yours will have ruined you feet long before you reach the appropriate floor."
Scarlet feigns annoyance. "The elevator, then. Together... but be warned. A slap will be the least of your worries if this elevator ride becomes anything but an elevator ride."
"Agreed. And in the event it suddenly changes into a Golden Saucer roller coaster, you may slap me all you like."
Scarlet just smiles as she pushes past me into the elevator. And she says nothing more as the doors close and the carriage begins its ascension.
In fact, I am the first to speak. "Scarlet, how many times have we officially ended our affair?"
She shrugs. "I wouldn't know, Simon, because I don't think of it as an affair." She shifts her weight on her impossibly high heels and opens the clasp on her red handbag. "In fact, I never have. To officially qualify as being an affair, a sexual relationship must involve the following: casualness, guilt, fear, secrecy and just the smallest touch of jealousy."
"Jealousy?" I chuckle as I lean against the elevator's wall. While I heave heard Scarlet's reasons for not calling a spade a spade many times, this argument is new. "What do you mean?"
Scarlet gives me a secretive smile. "Presumably, you are either sleeping with the individual without his or her partner's knowledge and, in doing so, fear he or she will return to them...or something much worse." She removes a small compact from her purse and checks her lipstick in its mirror. "Mh. That the man you are having an affair with will casually put you aside to pursue another woman with as much fervor as he did you."
"Ah. I see. And you are jealous of me now, Scarlet?"
She returns the compact to her purse and shakes her head. "No. Remember, I do not think of our... of us as having an affair. At various times, we have been colleagues, friends, lovers, enemies, soul mates, rivals, default settings and safety nets. But we have never been casual, guilty, afraid, secretive or..." she slides her hand onto my shoulder. "Or jealous, Simon. We have had no reason to indulge in any of these behaviors because, despite the many things we have been to one another, we have always been honest."
"Indeed..." Scarlet hums happily as I slide my hand down her side and rest it on her hip. "Scarlet. Just moments ago you provided a lengthy list of our... relationship's various incarnations. Pray tell, where on this wide spectrum do we stand now?"
Scarlet screws up her pretty face in mock concentration. "Oh, I would say we stand somewhere between being friendly rivals and fuck buddies at the moment, Professor."
"Ah. I see." I must say, I have always admired Scarlet's knack for getting right to the point. Giving her a smile, I gently slide my hand onto her rear for a playful squeeze. "If that is the case, would you like to go somewhere and fuck now, oh friendly rival?"
"Kyahahahaha! My god, you're a slick one, Simon Hojo," Scarlet laughs as she returns the favor. "And a slick one with such a talented hands!"
"Hm... I would appreciate it if you would think less about my hands and more about my tongue right about now."
"Oh really? Kyahahaha! And what does your famous silver tongue want to do now, Simon?"
"It would be much easier to demonstrate than tell you."
"Then by all means, demonstrate."
I must say, the look of embarrassment on Rufus Shinra's face as the elevator opens on the fifty-ninth floor to the sight of two people in a passionate embrace is amusing. However, it is not enough to separate us, even when he mutters a hasty apology and nearly jambs his fingers while pushing the 'close door' button. When we are alone again, however, we both share a hearty laugh.
"Kyahahahaha! It seems we have just provided the President's son with some free sexual education, professor."
"Indeed. Well, I don't know about you, Scarlet, but I believe I am going to abstain from Shinra's little show today. You know how public places aggravate my spine."
"Of course. I, too, will be absent... remember, I *was* a doctor during the war. Perhaps I can help... treat your spine."
I show my enthusiasm for such treatment by planting a series of small kisses on Scarlet's lovely neck. "Mh... your help is much appreciated. And now, my dear Undersecretary of Urban Development, would you care to further our education in a less public venue?"
"That depends. Will you pay me for my treatment?"
"Probably not as much as President Shinra does. But I'm sure I could arrange something..."
"Kyahahahahahaaaaa! Simon, do you honestly think I'm sleeping with the man?!"
I shrug, but my kisses do not let up. "I assume so. Granted, I have never been someone's mistress, but I thought such things were part of the job description."
"Well, I'm certainly not his mistress. Honestly, Simon. Can't you tell the difference between malicious office gossip and true malicious behavior? No, I am not sleeping with President Shinra." I shiver as Scarlet's teeth nibble their way up my ear. "I'm simply blackmailing him," she whispers.
"Ah...I see. You must tell me more about this later...at a more convenient time."
"Of course. But first things first. Your apartment or mine?"
"Mhh...yours. Your bed is harder."
Half an hour later, however, the hardness of the mattress is the last thing on either of our minds.
~*~
Two hours later, I dress and give my happily napping friendly rival/fuck buddy a gentle kiss and let myself out of her apartment. She will know enough to check her refrigerator door for my message. I have been called back to Shinra on urgent business, the note says, and I will see her later. Tomorrow, maybe, for lunch.
So much for being completely honest with one another. And yet, I have not officially lied to Scarlet. An urgent project does, indeed, call me back to my office... however, no one knows of its existence but me.
It is not difficult to access any medical records at Shinra, Inc... especially if you are Simon Hojo and you have level eight security clearance and the record of the person you are looking for is open to anyone possessing level five.
"Name: Elena Marshall..." I read as the record pops onto the screen. Mh. A very pretty name for a very pretty girl. Age: Twenty last Monday. Happy birthday, Elena. You certainly don't look your age. Height: Five foot ten. A taller woman; I appreciate that. Weight: One hundred forty pounds; healthy and sturdy, good. IQ: One hundred forty-six. Smart enough to talk to me, certainly. Excellent physical fitness and a clean bill of health... save for a rather disturbing list of common allergies. I suppose no one can be perfect, though. And minor things such as that are easily correctible.
Then it hits me. Regardless of the why and wherefore, it has happened. My life has been irrevocably changed today because I have found her. This cadet will be the mother of my second child! She is strong enough to withstand the Jenova treatments, the mako... everything!
It is as if the universe has simply dropped the perfect specimen right into my lap.
Now all that remains is convincing her. But this should not be incredibly difficult. If I am charming, if I buy her presents, if I show an interest in her career... women are right to call the names they do. Because even in this so-called enlightened age, most men do not take an active interest in their wives and lovers' wants and needs. Often this is all a man needs to show to win a woman's heart.
However, he also needs the woman to be conscious. And as of entering the clinic on level thirty-two, Elena Marshall officially was not. And she is currently dividing her time between being unconscious and being officially in a coma.
....
Oh, hell.
And for her part, Elena Marshall remains in a coma for the rest of the day. She remains in the coma for the rest of the week, and the next two weeks. I am beginning to lose hope in my project. I am certain I will never find another specimen like this young cadet, and if she remains in this coma forever... yes, I have thought of extreme measures. I have contemplated artificially inseminating her with the appropriate Jenova charged sperm... but this would have to be a last resort. The risk of getting caught is great. Greater still the risk of hiding her pregnancy from the clinic's doctors and inducing labor if the need arises. Risks aside, however, this plan is just not my style. I have done many things in the name of science that the unimaginative and unintelligent would label immoral, but impregnating a woman with my own sperm without her knowledge is not one of them. I would much prefer seducing her first.
And then, in the middle of the fourth week, I call up Elena's file to check her condition and notice a startling change. Her status has been upgraded from critical to stable. Intrigued, I look into the matter further and discover, indeed, that she is again conscious and well on the road to recovery.
Ten minutes later, I am at the Midgard Plaza Mall in Sector Eight... and haggling over the price of roses with the sector's sole florist.
"Ya say ya want long stems?"
"Yes. One dozen white long stem roses."
The man scratches his head. He reminds me of an ape. "Huh. Don't get much demand for them most days. 'Til today, that is. Guy in a blue suit comes in asking for the same thing."
"Yes, how fascinating. Now, do you or do you not have a dozen white roses?"
"Well, see, thing is, we don't get much call for them, so that guy in the blue suit bought up the only batch we had. Hey! Don't go! We got plenty more to choose from."
I just shrug. "I wanted white long stems. You do not have them." And it will take me a week to grow them, damn it.
"Well, yeah, but we do have some red ones. In the back. I can go get 'em now. But they cost extra. Being that they're more in demand and all."
"Yes, yes, I understand basic economics," I suppose red roses will have to do, even if they do not convey the exact impression I wanted. "Fine. Just get me the red roses."
"That'll be 200 gil, sir," he says as he hands me the roses.
I hand him a note for fifty and storm out of the store, patently ignoring his shouts of "sir! Sir! You only gave me a note for fifty, sir!" Really, the exorbitance! Flowers are not this rare in Midgard! I wouldn't even pay this much for a dozen roses at Icicle Inn.
~*~
When I finally arrive at Elena's room, I am greeted by its two guards... or rather, I'm sure I would have been greeted were they awake. Currently, two boys in black suits are dozing back to back to the left of the door, surrounded by a sea of empty beer cans. Ugh. Who are these ruffians, and why are they.... Ah, of course. Black suits. Turks-in-training.... Or should I say budding alcoholics. Probably assigned to protect the girl from Heidegger. Despite Shinra's discipline, a pay dock and a demotion, he is still free to roam Shinra, Inc. at his leisure and is probably looking for the source of his discomfort even as her guards drink themselves into a stupor. Well, my faith in the Turks has certainly been restored.
The bald one just snores away, but the red-haired one isn't so quiet. He tosses his head from time to time and murmurs "Elena"... how very interesting. Is Elena Marshall dating a little Turk, or is Red just dreaming about his assignment? At any rate, I don't want to wake them. I'm not in the mood to explain myself to two shit-faced Turks today. And so, I simply enter my ID code into the room's keypad and slip through the door as it hisses open.
Elena Marshall must certainly have friends in high places. A cadet would typically not get her own hospital room... or a bouquet of white long stem roses either. Hm... curiouser and curiouser. It seems Tseng of the Turks was the blue suit who beat me to my flowers. He is seeing a cadet? That certainly explains the posting of Tweedle Drunk and Tweedle Drunker at the door... but one would really think he'd have more sense than to leave her in the hands of two seventeen-year-olds.
I gently slide my vase of red roses onto the side table. Yes, they are lovely, and they certainly cover up Tseng's little bouquet nicely... but why white roses? Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps she has no lover... all the better. I will have no rival to crush this time around. And despite my prestige, I seriously doubt I could get away with effectively burying another Turk alive. To this day, I know Heidegger believes I am responsible for Vincent Valentine's disappearance and probably death. Such a shame Heidegger is not entirely as stupid as he acts.
Well, Elena Marshall is certainly looking better than she did at our last encounter. Her face is no longer bruised and swollen, and save for the cast covering her right arm, she could easily just be taking a nap in a hospital bed... hm... her cast has been signed by Tseng, Reno and.... Rad? Rude? What kind of name is Rude?
I don't have long to ponder this question, however, because Elena chooses that particular moment to gasp and open her eyes. I regard her calmly. Cream colored skin, messy blonde hair, deep ice blue eyes... the picture on her medical file does not do her eyes justice. I am lost in them already. She looks frightened and confused, though. I shouldn't stare too long. "Well," I smile gently. "It looks like you're awake."
"I guess so." Elena blinks a few times and looks me over. Does she know who I am? Does she remember me at all from our encounter last month? "Uhm..."
No. Apparently not. "You're wondering who in the hell I am and what I'm doing here."
"Uh...Yeah." Strong, intelligent, beautiful and pithy, too! I am a lucky man, indeed.
"Forgive my rudeness." I say as I take a seat in the chair next to her bed. "I was informed you'd awakened from your coma early this morning and I wanted to see you for myself."
"Okay...." I would tell her my name, but I'm certain it would only scare her. And so I decide to draw her attention to...
"I brought you some flowers." Elena blinks and stares at me. "Don't worry. I checked your profile and chose something appropriate. That is, something that won't have any adverse effects on your recovery." She just blinks again. "It seems that you have some fairly severe allergies. And having grown up in Midgard where flowers are, indeed, a rarity, the last thing I wanted to do was tax your immune system any more than it already has been."
"How did you know all that?" She asks. I am surprised. If Scarlet were visited on her sick bed by a strange man in a lab coat who had not identified himself immediately, she would have smashed him in the face with his flowers, broken arm or no. "Like, about my allergies and where I grew up and stuff?"
"Hm? Oh, I simply checked your medical files," I might as well be honest.
Elena looks more confused than troubled. "Uh... don't you have to have proper clearance to do that?"
"Proper secu--" I can't suppress my laughter. Oh, she is simply too adorable! "Hehe. Oh, don't worry, Ms. Marshall. I can assure you that, indeed, I went through all proper channels to view your file. Hehe."
She giggles back. It is nothing like mine. "Well, okay, but I still don't know your name or anything."
...And my back is bothering me again. I stand up to stretch it and notice something disconcerting. One of my roses is decaying, slightly. Hoping she won't notice, I walk to the table and turn the offending flower away from her while plucking the brown petals away. She looks troubled... and then truly alarmed.
"Ms. Marshall, is something the matter?" Perhaps something is. The color has just drained out of her face. Instinctively, I bring my hand up to feel her forehead. Her skin is soft, slightly clammy. She does not have a fever.
"No, no that's fine! It's just..." she looks at me for a long moment and then shrugs. "...It's nothing. I'm just a little surprised is all. They're really nice. Thank you."
"Well, I'm happy you like them, Ms. Marshall. I'm also happy to inform you of your extraordinary fortune." My back feels better now, and I believe I can risk sitting again. "I began seeing to most of your injuries the moment Heidegger left," I might as well mention this for extra brownie points, after all. "While I was able to help the worst of them, I was, sadly, unable to do much for your right arm. Even with the materia these ridiculous witch doctors insisted upon treating you with, your arm is probably going to give you some trouble for a little while. Be thankful, though. It staved off some very nasty blows that were intended for your skull simply because you had the good sense to cover your head." Elena looks truly confused now, but I continue nonetheless." The extent of your injuries was such that your body decided to shut down for a little while in order to repair them. And although we did have you on life support, I was confident it was only a matter of time before you would awaken."
"Oh." Her eyes travel to my wedding tag. Clever girl. She's solved the puzzle.
"Eee."
"Eee?" She doesn't like the photo on my badge? How sad. I think it looks rather flattering. "Well, yes, I do need to get a new picture, but I was pleased with this one so--"
Or could it possibly be the name she is unhappy with?
"But that isn't the problem, I take it." Oh dear. In my haste I seem to have neglected something. The poor girl has probably heard all kinds of exaggerated stories about me and my research... oh dear. I truly hope she didn't hear about the time I almost fed my lab assistant to a sea worm... because that story has the misfortune of being true...
"Elena," I soothe. "Why are you looking at me as if I were about to attack you?"
The girl begins giggling again. "Looking at you like you were -- oh, professor! Don't be so silly! Hahahahahaha!"
Oh dear. Something about that laugh tells me she's only heart *those* particular rumors. I sigh and lean my head into my hand. "Elena, I don't know what particular brand of 'Professor Hojo is an Evil, Sadistic Bastard' stories the Turks are telling you cadets as of late, but I can assure you that many of them are lies. Typical products of some drunken Turk's lust for bawdy storytelling." Perhaps even the Turks currently guarding your door, come to think of it.
"So you don't experiment on girls?" It seems I was right.
I can't help it. I find those rumors so silly, especially considering my actual dealings with Lucrecia in matters of science. "Heheheeheheh! Oh my, that is certainly the funniest and longest-lived rumor at Shinra, Inc... with the exception of Palmer's having an affair with Rufus... or was it Heidegger? There really are too many variants of that particular story." I highly doubt Reeve is amused by any of them.
"But I thought it was Rufus and R--" Thinking better of herself, the girl closes her mouth and looks away.
"No, Elena," I say after a moment. "It is true that I have performed one or two experiments on humans in my day," more than that, actually. "But I do not routinely abduct pretty girls from their beds and force them to participate in any scientific research, ethical or otherwise. Nor do I forcibly seduce them before or after my so-called 'experiments'... "But honesty is the best policy. "Although I have certainly seduced more than a few women in my day."
"S--seduced?!" It seems I have made the girl blush. I should probably leave now before I do any more damage.
"Well, it is getting late and I must return to my work," I stand and politely bow to her. "I hope you enjoy the flowers."
"P--wait, Professor Hojo?" I turn around and find her still blushing. "Uhm... if the rumors aren't really true, then... um... why did you stop Heidegger from beating me up?"
I can be entirely honest this time around. "Let us just say one can easily find several better alternatives for disciplining a soldier than killing him or her. Doing so is a needless waste of resources."
"Well, okay but still... you still didn't need to interfere, right? I mean --"
"No, I did not need to interfere. Wanting to do something and needing to do something are often two very different things." Although this saying does not hold true in your case, Elena. I need you for my experiment and yes, I do believe I can grow to want you for my own as well.
"Alright, okay," I can tell she is not satisfied with this answer, but we have both had enough for one day. "Thanks again for the flowers, sir."
I just smile in return. "And thank you for not calling me a pervert when you woke up to find me looking at you. Good afternoon, Ms. Marshall." But I do not leave before confirming at least one of the only three facts most Shinra employees know about me. "Oh, and one more thing. I really *am* a Gemini."
And then I leave her.
As I pass the sleeping pre-Turks, I congratulate myself. I feel my first meeting with the girl went particularly well. But I mustn't rush things. If I come on too strong, she will never consent... all in good time, Simon. All in good time. Give her a little while to get used to you first. I am certain she will.
Just as I am certain she will make a wonderful mother to our child.
(End Part Two)
Chapter 2: Hojo: An Unusual Knight
A FF7 Fan Fic
by
Lady Aoi
Summary: Hojo has a lot to think about regarding a certain Turk...
Pairing: You read that right, kids. Elena/Hojo. Old Hojo.
Rating: R for Angst, sexuality, language, Hojoness
Disclaimer: The lovely Hojo and the magnificent Elena do not belong to me. Neither does Heidegger, Scarlet, Reno, Rude, Tseng or anyone else who may wander into this fic just to watch. All these wonderful characters are owned by Square Soft. Please don't sue me. I really *do* need to buy FF8 someday...
Lady Aoi's Notes: Just so those of you following M2D aren't confused by the sudden chapter rearranging/addition, let me clarify: I decided the fic would make more sense if Hojo got to tell things from his perspective, too. So, from now on, chapters will alternate between Elena and Hojo, in that order. Elena will tell her side of her interaction with Hojo, and then Hojo will tell the interaction from his point of view. However, as both characters do not spend all their time talking to each other, the alternating view points will not simply retell the story's events. In other words, as Elena spends most of her time with Reno and Rude and Hojo with Shinra's executives (or most often alone), the alternating view points will also give the story a wider scope (at least that's my hope -_-;). Enjoy.
~*~
From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, I knew my life was going to change.
I also knew that I had fallen asleep with my head on the keyboard again, because the tip of my nose was suspiciously sore and my computer screen was covered with three-thousand one-hundred and twenty-five pages of yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Hm... Why, indeed?
As I highlight and delete the superfluous letters from what was supposed to have been the notes for my latest project, the meddlesome things shimmer and blur into unbroken black bars. ...Ah. Of course. I locate my glasses next to my half-empty coffee mug and put them in their proper place. Instantly, the world leaps back into focus along with the existential question on my computer screen:
Why?
Odd that the Universe has an even poorer grasp of spelling than it has of timing. The real question it should ask me is: how.
How do I know today will not simply consist of the same idiotic routines? I have spent the greater part of the last fifteen years doing nothing but putting out the daily real and figurative fires begun by the incompetents assigned to work for me. Misplaced files, broken equipment, whiney graduate students asking for the weekend off because 'my wife's in the hospital having a baby, sir.' Hehehe. Oh, if they only knew how I responded to a similar 'crisis' at their age! Perhaps then they would understand why I show my sympathies in the form of a pink slip as opposed to the sugar-coated insincerities of greeting cards.
So, how can I be certain my day will consist of more substantial things than changing my workers' diapers? Is it because I sense a change in the air? Has some planet retrograded in my favor? Do my bowels tremble with the sweet excitement of a foregone conclusion?
I cannot say. Actually my back is hurting again. Maybe this is how I know.
But something important is going to happen today, and I do not mean Shinra's ridiculous bread and circuses parade. That is my hypothesis.
With a final keystroke, I eliminate the last 'y' from the screen.
~*~
Despite my... foreknowledge, my day progresses rather quietly. My lab assistant brings the wrong stack of Cetra files from the library and then decides to put himself even further into my good graces by spilling my coffee over said files. After he cleans them up, I re-demote him on the spot. Ten minutes later, I receive the first of the day's telephone calls. I let it ring. It is probably Shinra. After he calls for the third time, I finally cave in and snatch the phone from its cradle.
"Hojo."
"Hojo?"
"Yes."
"Hojo?"< br>
Yes, it's Hojo, you imbecile! Hojo! Hoh-joh. The head of your scientific research. The man who could throw this entire company into a tale spin if he were to resign. And he would like to, believe me. Forty years of your unimaginative rule has been quite enough for me, despite the brilliant work I have done here.
"Yes."
"Hojo?"
I cannot help but roll my eyes. "Yes, President Shinra, my name is Hojo. Simon Hojo. I have been on your payroll for the last thirty-five years, yet you have not given me a raise in the last seven. Regardless of your lack of real understanding of my work, I nevertheless *do* have an actual job and one which keeps me busier than any three of your other executives combined on even the lightest of days. Now, if your incessant ringing of my telephone was done solely to distract me from this work, then let me be the first to congratulate you. You have succeeded far beyond your wildest dreams. If, on the other hand, you actually do have something to say to me, you have three minutes in which to do so."
As one may reasonably expect, Shinra's side of the line remains silent-- a silence for quite sometime. I just sigh and wait for his inevitable recovery -- and his inevitable braying into the receiver. To the best of my knowledge, I am the only senior executive who can deal openly and honestly with our esteemed small minded President. Palmer lacks the brains, Heidegger lacks the nerve, Scarlet is too busy fucking him on the side to need more leverage, and Reeve is too busy fucking Shinra's son to notice much of anything else... except, of course, for the potential suffering of the unwashed masses Shinra supposedly serves. I have yet to determine if his concern is the result of idealism or idiocy.
"Hojo," The president splutters out at last.
I just grin. "That's my name. Say it again and I'll tell you the same."
I almost think this juvenile rhyme upsets our fearless leader more than my previous taunts. "Hojo, stop fucking around and listen!"
"Oh, believe me, sir; I have no choice but to listen to you even when I am lucky enough to be fucking around with your mistress. Out of curiosity, has she ever called my name when you --"
"Dammit, Hojo! Quit being vulgar and get down to the seventeenth floor *now*! We need to go over some final security details for today's parade!"
Oh, I wonder if he means the one I intend to avoid. "Ah, yes! Today is your fortieth anniversary, is it not? Congratulations. Good bye now."
"Hojo, god damn it!!!" The president sighs. "... just... don't do this to me."
"If I come down, will you give me my raise?"
"....." Another sigh. Long and heavy this time. "Very well."
"Thank you." Ahh, the joys of playing with senile President Shinra... he hates me. Everyone hates me. Everyone always hates the indispensable man, especially when they are forced to give him money, power or, worst of all, deference.
I think I will take my time getting to the meeting. My back is bothering me again and walking down all those stairs to the elevator is a difficult task.
~*~
As the elevator slowly descends, I find my thoughts returning to the project now tucked securely away behind several security fields on my computer upstairs. Again I wonder why it has taken so long to implement. Granted, I have been busy: Jenova, Sephiroth, a messy affair with Scarlet, a coffee machine which breaks every other day... even so, this particular project is long overdue and very, very urgent. Especially to a man of my age.
I am going to have another child.
Many of my so-called colleagues know about my marriage to Lucrecia Kestrel, an attractive lab assistant who died tragically in Nibelheim thirty years ago. Through my influence, however, not even President Shinra knows about the young life she birthed minutes away from her untimely fate. For that matter, neither does Sephiroth, as I alone know the security protocols to his background information.
Sephiroth is a perfect, if ungrateful son. Intelligent, strong, beautiful... the best qualities of Lucrecia and Simon Hojo intensified by the Jenova cells in my late wife's bloodstream and the mako I exposed him to at age eight. Although he often speaks in less than flattering terms about my research, character and sexual prowess (to my face, most of the time), he is, nonetheless, every father's unrealized dream: a conduit through which to relive his youth and claim his proper place among the stars. Ah, yes... Sephiroth is the pentagram and I the magician. Through him I will conjure unfettered by demons and wraiths.
And yet, is it not also every father's dream to have even more than this? If Sephiroth is my pentagram, my second child shall be my very conjuring staff. And with my two children, I will not only claim a place among the stars, I will claim the very stars themselves as my own.
Besides, I always wanted a daughter.
The only difficulty that remains is finding a second Lucrecia. And I do not mean a test subject. Lord knows, if I wanted a cadaver or a pair of ovaries on legs, I could have easily obtained one thousands of times over by now. I do not want for mako nor for Jenova cells, as Jenova is herself currently subdued in a tank mere meters from my office. I only want, in fact, for a suitable Lucrecia. For a time I thought Scarlet would be my daughter's mother... but Scarlet had other plans. And none of the women I have courted since our affair's end have possessed the strength, endurance, intelligence and... well, beauty of my first wife. It is a shame. I am beginning to think I will have to resort to measures reserved for the likes of Don Corneo, my rival for the title of Midgard's most notorious lecher. Maybe if I choose three women a night, conduct a proper physical examination and interview... yes, the idea has potential. I can always say I am hunting for a new bride. Scarlet will be scandalized. Another added benefit.
As the elevator stops on the seventeenth floor, I am resolved. I will begin interviewing tomorr-- ow. My back willing, that is.
Before I can even begin to consider a list of potential 'bachellorettes', however, my heart is nearly thrown out of kilter by an all-too familiar bellowing. Heidegger. And from the metallic crunching sounds punctuating his screams of "Or this!" like gunfire, I can only assume he is beating another hapless soldier.
Lucky me. I get to walk right through the battle field. Gritting my teeth, I round the corner -
And walk straight into a slaughterhouse.
Granted, Heidegger is a savage, but I always thought he had his limits. That was before I was treated to the sight of him pounding a bloody corpse with the butt of a riffle. There are very few things in this world that frighten me. But I must say, adrenaline begins coursing through my veins when Heidegger turns towards me, riffle held menacingly at his side.
Neither of us speaks. I wonder fleetingly if Heidegger even remembers how at the moment. In the silence, I allow myself to glance at the body. This situation is indeed critical. If I am not careful, I may also spend this festive day in a Shinra, Inc. body bag.
"Stay out of this, Hojo!" Heidegger growls. "This has nothing to do with you!"
Unfortunately, my dear Heidegger, you have just involved me by aiming your riffle for my left eye. I cannot fail to notice the gore covering its end, either. But I must stay calm... I must get him away from here...
Subtly, I hold my hands out to my sides while standing straight. My eyes flick to Heidegger's own bloodshot pair. Yes, regardless of the situation, I must stay in character. Now is not the time to cave into passivity.
"That may be, general," I tell him with my usual curtness. "But your carrying on is proving to be quite the distraction. I'd wager technicians can hear your bellowing from here to the twenty-fifth floor."
"That so?" The general barks. And yet, my tactic seems to have worked. He has not cocked the gun, nor has he taken another step towards me.
"Indeed. Now, why don't you go make yourself useful by screaming at and/or beating up the cadets who are presumably taking your lead and pestering some of my workers, hmm?"
"What the --?!"
"Yes, that's right. I hardly think you can effectively prepare for this parade with a dozen of your own cadets drunkenly wandering around the laboratory on the forty-first floor, but that's just my humble opinion." A lie on my part. There is no laboratory on the forty-first floor. Nor are their any cadets or technicians. In fact, the forty-first floor is Shinra security's headquarters. I am banking on Heidegger's adrenaline charged mind to allow him to forget this detail. If I can get send him to the appropriate floor, the SOLDIERs and Elite Guards will take note of the blood on his hands and his general raving and confine him to a holding cell.
However, Heidegger is just standing there staring at me as if I were a candidate for his lunch. Methinks he needs more convincing. I decide to pull rank.
"Now, President Shinra, on the other hand, might see things in a somewhat different light." And indeed these prove the magic words. Snorting and swearing at his phantom cadets, Heidegger pushes past me and thunders towards the elevator. "Yes, you have a nice day, too!" I call after him. He does not even grunt to acknowledge my taunt as the steel doors close behind him. Seconds later, the elevator begins to rise...and I begin to breathe again.
Thankfully, this building's architect possessed enough sense to equip each floor with two emergency call boxes. I locate the nearest one and dial the number for building maintenance.
"Hojo, here. You need to send a crew to the seventeenth floor. Blood and a dead body are involved, so you may also want to bring appropriate protection." As the startled dispatcher asks me to repeat myself, I look the corpse over fully for the first time. "Yes, you heard me correctly. There is a dead body in the seventeenth floor's central corridor. The walls are also covered with blood. Heidegger is responsible so I also suggest you alert security. No, this is not a joke!" And then the corpse twitches and sighs. I stop talking and watch as she takes a shaky, gasping breath. It seems she is alive...
"You also need to contact a medical team and send them here immediately," I inform the dispatcher. He just splutters for another repeat. "We have no time for this!" I shout into the receiver. "Do as you're told! Send a medical team to the seventeenth floor's main corridor *NOW*!" And with that I slam the receiver back into its cradle and turn to the woman at my feet.
Woman? No, more of a girl. Even though her face is pressed against the floor, her build is such that I imagine she can be no older than eighteen. Fighting back my urge to follow Heidegger, castrate him and nail him to the nearest wall, I slowly kneel and rest my hand against the girl's neck. A weak pulse dances against my fingertips. She is alive, but she may not be by the time the medics arrive. I need to act quickly. After checking to see if her neck is broken (it is not), I gingerly move the cadet onto her back (ignoring the painful protests from my own)...
And I nearly forget what I am doing at the sight of her face.
Despite her black eye, bruised cheek and split lip she is... breathtaking. Literally. Healthy, cream colored skin, soft blonde hair, high, narrow cheek bones, a slender roman nose... hm.... Hm....
I'm thinking with the wrong head. And now is certainly not the time for this to happen. I can look later. I must act now. The girl is bleeding from several wounds on her back, arms, legs and face. Most of them are slight enough to ignore for the time being, but I don't like the looks of that gash on her side. Two of her ribs are fractured, thus making a tourniquet an impractical solution to say the least. If I had a restore materia...
And then the situation becomes more complicated as the girl moans and begins going into shock. Oh well. At least I can do something about that. Thankfully, someone has propped a janitorial closet open with a small stool. I take this and slide it beneath the girl's feet, noting as I do that her ankle is badly sprained. After draping my lab coat over her trembling body, I pillow her head against my right knee.
"Shhh, don't move," I tell her as she whimpers and tries to roll her head away. To steady her, I slip my hand onto her shoulder and stroke it lightly. Where is that medical team?! And now is certainly not the time for thoughts of the kind I am having! "You're going to be fine," I murmur as I brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. Hopefully, she believes this platitude.
I do not remain long in this position before the elevator doors ping open and a medical team floods into the hallway. I resist the urge to scream at them for their incompetence (really, five minutes before answering a call from two floors beneath you?) and simply move out of the way as my knee is replaced by a pillow and Cure3 is utilized. Granted, this is enough to stop the worst of her bleeding, but will she live? These witch doctors and their material! "You've used that enough! She needs to go in for treatment immediately!"
To make matters even more complicated, the entire Shinra, Inc. board of directors chooses that particular moment to flood out of the conference room at the hallway's end. As I stand to face them, I cannot help but wonder what in the hell took them this long between Heidegger's bellowing and my own shouted orders.
Reeve is the first to reach us. His face immediately palls and a whimper that sounds suspiciously like "oh my god" escapes his lips as he backs up into an equally shell-shocked Shinra. For her part, Scarlet remains calm... at least until Palmer waddles out of the conference room to make the situation even more surreal.
"Hey, hey! What's going on out here?! Hey, Reeve! Can you move, huh? I can't see what's going on! What are all these people in funny coats doing here?! Scarlet, what's the ma- oh..." Palmer takes one look at the gore-splattered hallway and its gore-splattered occupants before promptly fainting dead away... right on top of Reeve. As the head of Shinra's urban development struggles frantically to disengage himself from Palmer's girth, I begin to laugh uncontrollably. Hahaha! Trust Matthew Palmer to turn even the direst of situations into low comedy!
Shinra, however, does not appreciate my sense of humor. "Hojo, stop that!" he barks. "Stop laughing and tell us what the hell is going on!"
"Ha...hah...I'm not exactly sure, sir."
"Scarlet, see if you can help Reeve out, would you?"
Shrugging, Scarlet kneels down and tries to roll Palmer off the struggling executive. Shinra then blocks my view of the scene by stepping in front of me.
"For the last time, Hojo, what the hell happened?!"
"I'm not sure," I repeat. "I was on my way to meet with you when walked into this mess."
"You just found the woman lying here?"
I shake my head and relate the entire sordid story. Shinra's face is pale long before I'm finished.
"Damn that Heidegger," he growls. "And to pull a stunt like this on *today* of all days..." he shakes his fist. I am reminded of a corpulent baby crying because he dropped his candy in the dirt. "Do you have any idea why he did this?"
"None whatsoever," I say as I lean down and pick up a riffle. "But judging from the guns littered all over the hallway, I believe I have a hypothesis. The cadet - or perhaps she and a partner - were most likely caring these weapons to a storage locker. Along the way, they dropped them and in doing so got on the good general's sole remaining nerve."
Shinra looks ready to murder someone. "I'll teach him a lesson or two!"
"Yes, please see that you do. I'm not sure how many more of his antics I can stand at my age. Or that any of us can stand, for that matter. "
"You said you saw him taking the elevator up to the forty-first floor?"
"I believe so. Why don't you call and see if they've apprehended him?"
"Yes, I suppose I should see to this matter personally," the President bows curtly. "Thanks for your help, Hojo."
"You can thank me by giving me another raise, sir."
His eyes darken. "Don't push your luck."
I shrug. "Don't call during work hours."
He knows it's just not his day. "We'll talk about this in my office tomorrow, Hojo."
"Of course." As Shinra turns and walks away, Scarlet throws her back into her work and finally manages to roll the space program director off Reeve.
Reeve just lies on his stomach, apparently too stunned to move.
"Reeve, are you alright?" Scarlet asks.
For his part, the young man just shudders. "My whole life flashed before my eyes," he whimpers.
As the first two medics load the now (evidently) stable girl onto a gurney, I take the third aside. "You probably want to call some reinforcements," I inform her as I gesture to the scene behind me. "Palmer seems to have fainted on top of Reeve. Neither of them is better off because of it." That done, I turn back to Scarlet, who appears to be struggling to suppress her notorious laugh. "My dear, I believe we have done all we can do here," I offer her my arm. "Why don't we leave?"
"Precisely my thoughts, Simon," she disdains to take my arm. "But must we do so together?"
"I suppose you could take the stairs instead. But if you are going to do so, might I recommend informing these poor medics of the situation before hand? The urban development office is thirty-five flights of stairs from this floor, Scarlet. And those impossible shoes of yours will have ruined you feet long before you reach the appropriate floor."
Scarlet feigns annoyance. "The elevator, then. Together... but be warned. A slap will be the least of your worries if this elevator ride becomes anything but an elevator ride."
"Agreed. And in the event it suddenly changes into a Golden Saucer roller coaster, you may slap me all you like."
Scarlet just smiles as she pushes past me into the elevator. And she says nothing more as the doors close and the carriage begins its ascension.
In fact, I am the first to speak. "Scarlet, how many times have we officially ended our affair?"
She shrugs. "I wouldn't know, Simon, because I don't think of it as an affair." She shifts her weight on her impossibly high heels and opens the clasp on her red handbag. "In fact, I never have. To officially qualify as being an affair, a sexual relationship must involve the following: casualness, guilt, fear, secrecy and just the smallest touch of jealousy."
"Jealousy?" I chuckle as I lean against the elevator's wall. While I heave heard Scarlet's reasons for not calling a spade a spade many times, this argument is new. "What do you mean?"
Scarlet gives me a secretive smile. "Presumably, you are either sleeping with the individual without his or her partner's knowledge and, in doing so, fear he or she will return to them...or something much worse." She removes a small compact from her purse and checks her lipstick in its mirror. "Mh. That the man you are having an affair with will casually put you aside to pursue another woman with as much fervor as he did you."
"Ah. I see. And you are jealous of me now, Scarlet?"
She returns the compact to her purse and shakes her head. "No. Remember, I do not think of our... of us as having an affair. At various times, we have been colleagues, friends, lovers, enemies, soul mates, rivals, default settings and safety nets. But we have never been casual, guilty, afraid, secretive or..." she slides her hand onto my shoulder. "Or jealous, Simon. We have had no reason to indulge in any of these behaviors because, despite the many things we have been to one another, we have always been honest."
"Indeed..." Scarlet hums happily as I slide my hand down her side and rest it on her hip. "Scarlet. Just moments ago you provided a lengthy list of our... relationship's various incarnations. Pray tell, where on this wide spectrum do we stand now?"
Scarlet screws up her pretty face in mock concentration. "Oh, I would say we stand somewhere between being friendly rivals and fuck buddies at the moment, Professor."
"Ah. I see." I must say, I have always admired Scarlet's knack for getting right to the point. Giving her a smile, I gently slide my hand onto her rear for a playful squeeze. "If that is the case, would you like to go somewhere and fuck now, oh friendly rival?"
"Kyahahahaha! My god, you're a slick one, Simon Hojo," Scarlet laughs as she returns the favor. "And a slick one with such a talented hands!"
"Hm... I would appreciate it if you would think less about my hands and more about my tongue right about now."
"Oh really? Kyahahaha! And what does your famous silver tongue want to do now, Simon?"
"It would be much easier to demonstrate than tell you."
"Then by all means, demonstrate."
I must say, the look of embarrassment on Rufus Shinra's face as the elevator opens on the fifty-ninth floor to the sight of two people in a passionate embrace is amusing. However, it is not enough to separate us, even when he mutters a hasty apology and nearly jambs his fingers while pushing the 'close door' button. When we are alone again, however, we both share a hearty laugh.
"Kyahahahaha! It seems we have just provided the President's son with some free sexual education, professor."
"Indeed. Well, I don't know about you, Scarlet, but I believe I am going to abstain from Shinra's little show today. You know how public places aggravate my spine."
"Of course. I, too, will be absent... remember, I *was* a doctor during the war. Perhaps I can help... treat your spine."
I show my enthusiasm for such treatment by planting a series of small kisses on Scarlet's lovely neck. "Mh... your help is much appreciated. And now, my dear Undersecretary of Urban Development, would you care to further our education in a less public venue?"
"That depends. Will you pay me for my treatment?"
"Probably not as much as President Shinra does. But I'm sure I could arrange something..."
"Kyahahahahahaaaaa! Simon, do you honestly think I'm sleeping with the man?!"
I shrug, but my kisses do not let up. "I assume so. Granted, I have never been someone's mistress, but I thought such things were part of the job description."
"Well, I'm certainly not his mistress. Honestly, Simon. Can't you tell the difference between malicious office gossip and true malicious behavior? No, I am not sleeping with President Shinra." I shiver as Scarlet's teeth nibble their way up my ear. "I'm simply blackmailing him," she whispers.
"Ah...I see. You must tell me more about this later...at a more convenient time."
"Of course. But first things first. Your apartment or mine?"
"Mhh...yours. Your bed is harder."
Half an hour later, however, the hardness of the mattress is the last thing on either of our minds.
~*~
Two hours later, I dress and give my happily napping friendly rival/fuck buddy a gentle kiss and let myself out of her apartment. She will know enough to check her refrigerator door for my message. I have been called back to Shinra on urgent business, the note says, and I will see her later. Tomorrow, maybe, for lunch.
So much for being completely honest with one another. And yet, I have not officially lied to Scarlet. An urgent project does, indeed, call me back to my office... however, no one knows of its existence but me.
It is not difficult to access any medical records at Shinra, Inc... especially if you are Simon Hojo and you have level eight security clearance and the record of the person you are looking for is open to anyone possessing level five.
"Name: Elena Marshall..." I read as the record pops onto the screen. Mh. A very pretty name for a very pretty girl. Age: Twenty last Monday. Happy birthday, Elena. You certainly don't look your age. Height: Five foot ten. A taller woman; I appreciate that. Weight: One hundred forty pounds; healthy and sturdy, good. IQ: One hundred forty-six. Smart enough to talk to me, certainly. Excellent physical fitness and a clean bill of health... save for a rather disturbing list of common allergies. I suppose no one can be perfect, though. And minor things such as that are easily correctible.
Then it hits me. Regardless of the why and wherefore, it has happened. My life has been irrevocably changed today because I have found her. This cadet will be the mother of my second child! She is strong enough to withstand the Jenova treatments, the mako... everything!
It is as if the universe has simply dropped the perfect specimen right into my lap.
Now all that remains is convincing her. But this should not be incredibly difficult. If I am charming, if I buy her presents, if I show an interest in her career... women are right to call the names they do. Because even in this so-called enlightened age, most men do not take an active interest in their wives and lovers' wants and needs. Often this is all a man needs to show to win a woman's heart.
However, he also needs the woman to be conscious. And as of entering the clinic on level thirty-two, Elena Marshall officially was not. And she is currently dividing her time between being unconscious and being officially in a coma.
....
Oh, hell.
And for her part, Elena Marshall remains in a coma for the rest of the day. She remains in the coma for the rest of the week, and the next two weeks. I am beginning to lose hope in my project. I am certain I will never find another specimen like this young cadet, and if she remains in this coma forever... yes, I have thought of extreme measures. I have contemplated artificially inseminating her with the appropriate Jenova charged sperm... but this would have to be a last resort. The risk of getting caught is great. Greater still the risk of hiding her pregnancy from the clinic's doctors and inducing labor if the need arises. Risks aside, however, this plan is just not my style. I have done many things in the name of science that the unimaginative and unintelligent would label immoral, but impregnating a woman with my own sperm without her knowledge is not one of them. I would much prefer seducing her first.
And then, in the middle of the fourth week, I call up Elena's file to check her condition and notice a startling change. Her status has been upgraded from critical to stable. Intrigued, I look into the matter further and discover, indeed, that she is again conscious and well on the road to recovery.
Ten minutes later, I am at the Midgard Plaza Mall in Sector Eight... and haggling over the price of roses with the sector's sole florist.
"Ya say ya want long stems?"
"Yes. One dozen white long stem roses."
The man scratches his head. He reminds me of an ape. "Huh. Don't get much demand for them most days. 'Til today, that is. Guy in a blue suit comes in asking for the same thing."
"Yes, how fascinating. Now, do you or do you not have a dozen white roses?"
"Well, see, thing is, we don't get much call for them, so that guy in the blue suit bought up the only batch we had. Hey! Don't go! We got plenty more to choose from."
I just shrug. "I wanted white long stems. You do not have them." And it will take me a week to grow them, damn it.
"Well, yeah, but we do have some red ones. In the back. I can go get 'em now. But they cost extra. Being that they're more in demand and all."
"Yes, yes, I understand basic economics," I suppose red roses will have to do, even if they do not convey the exact impression I wanted. "Fine. Just get me the red roses."
"That'll be 200 gil, sir," he says as he hands me the roses.
I hand him a note for fifty and storm out of the store, patently ignoring his shouts of "sir! Sir! You only gave me a note for fifty, sir!" Really, the exorbitance! Flowers are not this rare in Midgard! I wouldn't even pay this much for a dozen roses at Icicle Inn.
~*~
When I finally arrive at Elena's room, I am greeted by its two guards... or rather, I'm sure I would have been greeted were they awake. Currently, two boys in black suits are dozing back to back to the left of the door, surrounded by a sea of empty beer cans. Ugh. Who are these ruffians, and why are they.... Ah, of course. Black suits. Turks-in-training.... Or should I say budding alcoholics. Probably assigned to protect the girl from Heidegger. Despite Shinra's discipline, a pay dock and a demotion, he is still free to roam Shinra, Inc. at his leisure and is probably looking for the source of his discomfort even as her guards drink themselves into a stupor. Well, my faith in the Turks has certainly been restored.
The bald one just snores away, but the red-haired one isn't so quiet. He tosses his head from time to time and murmurs "Elena"... how very interesting. Is Elena Marshall dating a little Turk, or is Red just dreaming about his assignment? At any rate, I don't want to wake them. I'm not in the mood to explain myself to two shit-faced Turks today. And so, I simply enter my ID code into the room's keypad and slip through the door as it hisses open.
Elena Marshall must certainly have friends in high places. A cadet would typically not get her own hospital room... or a bouquet of white long stem roses either. Hm... curiouser and curiouser. It seems Tseng of the Turks was the blue suit who beat me to my flowers. He is seeing a cadet? That certainly explains the posting of Tweedle Drunk and Tweedle Drunker at the door... but one would really think he'd have more sense than to leave her in the hands of two seventeen-year-olds.
I gently slide my vase of red roses onto the side table. Yes, they are lovely, and they certainly cover up Tseng's little bouquet nicely... but why white roses? Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps she has no lover... all the better. I will have no rival to crush this time around. And despite my prestige, I seriously doubt I could get away with effectively burying another Turk alive. To this day, I know Heidegger believes I am responsible for Vincent Valentine's disappearance and probably death. Such a shame Heidegger is not entirely as stupid as he acts.
Well, Elena Marshall is certainly looking better than she did at our last encounter. Her face is no longer bruised and swollen, and save for the cast covering her right arm, she could easily just be taking a nap in a hospital bed... hm... her cast has been signed by Tseng, Reno and.... Rad? Rude? What kind of name is Rude?
I don't have long to ponder this question, however, because Elena chooses that particular moment to gasp and open her eyes. I regard her calmly. Cream colored skin, messy blonde hair, deep ice blue eyes... the picture on her medical file does not do her eyes justice. I am lost in them already. She looks frightened and confused, though. I shouldn't stare too long. "Well," I smile gently. "It looks like you're awake."
"I guess so." Elena blinks a few times and looks me over. Does she know who I am? Does she remember me at all from our encounter last month? "Uhm..."
No. Apparently not. "You're wondering who in the hell I am and what I'm doing here."
"Uh...Yeah." Strong, intelligent, beautiful and pithy, too! I am a lucky man, indeed.
"Forgive my rudeness." I say as I take a seat in the chair next to her bed. "I was informed you'd awakened from your coma early this morning and I wanted to see you for myself."
"Okay...." I would tell her my name, but I'm certain it would only scare her. And so I decide to draw her attention to...
"I brought you some flowers." Elena blinks and stares at me. "Don't worry. I checked your profile and chose something appropriate. That is, something that won't have any adverse effects on your recovery." She just blinks again. "It seems that you have some fairly severe allergies. And having grown up in Midgard where flowers are, indeed, a rarity, the last thing I wanted to do was tax your immune system any more than it already has been."
"How did you know all that?" She asks. I am surprised. If Scarlet were visited on her sick bed by a strange man in a lab coat who had not identified himself immediately, she would have smashed him in the face with his flowers, broken arm or no. "Like, about my allergies and where I grew up and stuff?"
"Hm? Oh, I simply checked your medical files," I might as well be honest.
Elena looks more confused than troubled. "Uh... don't you have to have proper clearance to do that?"
"Proper secu--" I can't suppress my laughter. Oh, she is simply too adorable! "Hehe. Oh, don't worry, Ms. Marshall. I can assure you that, indeed, I went through all proper channels to view your file. Hehe."
She giggles back. It is nothing like mine. "Well, okay, but I still don't know your name or anything."
...And my back is bothering me again. I stand up to stretch it and notice something disconcerting. One of my roses is decaying, slightly. Hoping she won't notice, I walk to the table and turn the offending flower away from her while plucking the brown petals away. She looks troubled... and then truly alarmed.
"Ms. Marshall, is something the matter?" Perhaps something is. The color has just drained out of her face. Instinctively, I bring my hand up to feel her forehead. Her skin is soft, slightly clammy. She does not have a fever.
"No, no that's fine! It's just..." she looks at me for a long moment and then shrugs. "...It's nothing. I'm just a little surprised is all. They're really nice. Thank you."
"Well, I'm happy you like them, Ms. Marshall. I'm also happy to inform you of your extraordinary fortune." My back feels better now, and I believe I can risk sitting again. "I began seeing to most of your injuries the moment Heidegger left," I might as well mention this for extra brownie points, after all. "While I was able to help the worst of them, I was, sadly, unable to do much for your right arm. Even with the materia these ridiculous witch doctors insisted upon treating you with, your arm is probably going to give you some trouble for a little while. Be thankful, though. It staved off some very nasty blows that were intended for your skull simply because you had the good sense to cover your head." Elena looks truly confused now, but I continue nonetheless." The extent of your injuries was such that your body decided to shut down for a little while in order to repair them. And although we did have you on life support, I was confident it was only a matter of time before you would awaken."
"Oh." Her eyes travel to my wedding tag. Clever girl. She's solved the puzzle.
"Eee."
"Eee?" She doesn't like the photo on my badge? How sad. I think it looks rather flattering. "Well, yes, I do need to get a new picture, but I was pleased with this one so--"
Or could it possibly be the name she is unhappy with?
"But that isn't the problem, I take it." Oh dear. In my haste I seem to have neglected something. The poor girl has probably heard all kinds of exaggerated stories about me and my research... oh dear. I truly hope she didn't hear about the time I almost fed my lab assistant to a sea worm... because that story has the misfortune of being true...
"Elena," I soothe. "Why are you looking at me as if I were about to attack you?"
The girl begins giggling again. "Looking at you like you were -- oh, professor! Don't be so silly! Hahahahahaha!"
Oh dear. Something about that laugh tells me she's only heart *those* particular rumors. I sigh and lean my head into my hand. "Elena, I don't know what particular brand of 'Professor Hojo is an Evil, Sadistic Bastard' stories the Turks are telling you cadets as of late, but I can assure you that many of them are lies. Typical products of some drunken Turk's lust for bawdy storytelling." Perhaps even the Turks currently guarding your door, come to think of it.
"So you don't experiment on girls?" It seems I was right.
I can't help it. I find those rumors so silly, especially considering my actual dealings with Lucrecia in matters of science. "Heheheeheheh! Oh my, that is certainly the funniest and longest-lived rumor at Shinra, Inc... with the exception of Palmer's having an affair with Rufus... or was it Heidegger? There really are too many variants of that particular story." I highly doubt Reeve is amused by any of them.
"But I thought it was Rufus and R--" Thinking better of herself, the girl closes her mouth and looks away.
"No, Elena," I say after a moment. "It is true that I have performed one or two experiments on humans in my day," more than that, actually. "But I do not routinely abduct pretty girls from their beds and force them to participate in any scientific research, ethical or otherwise. Nor do I forcibly seduce them before or after my so-called 'experiments'... "But honesty is the best policy. "Although I have certainly seduced more than a few women in my day."
"S--seduced?!" It seems I have made the girl blush. I should probably leave now before I do any more damage.
"Well, it is getting late and I must return to my work," I stand and politely bow to her. "I hope you enjoy the flowers."
"P--wait, Professor Hojo?" I turn around and find her still blushing. "Uhm... if the rumors aren't really true, then... um... why did you stop Heidegger from beating me up?"
I can be entirely honest this time around. "Let us just say one can easily find several better alternatives for disciplining a soldier than killing him or her. Doing so is a needless waste of resources."
"Well, okay but still... you still didn't need to interfere, right? I mean --"
"No, I did not need to interfere. Wanting to do something and needing to do something are often two very different things." Although this saying does not hold true in your case, Elena. I need you for my experiment and yes, I do believe I can grow to want you for my own as well.
"Alright, okay," I can tell she is not satisfied with this answer, but we have both had enough for one day. "Thanks again for the flowers, sir."
I just smile in return. "And thank you for not calling me a pervert when you woke up to find me looking at you. Good afternoon, Ms. Marshall." But I do not leave before confirming at least one of the only three facts most Shinra employees know about me. "Oh, and one more thing. I really *am* a Gemini."
And then I leave her.
As I pass the sleeping pre-Turks, I congratulate myself. I feel my first meeting with the girl went particularly well. But I mustn't rush things. If I come on too strong, she will never consent... all in good time, Simon. All in good time. Give her a little while to get used to you first. I am certain she will.
Just as I am certain she will make a wonderful mother to our child.
(End Part Two)