When Spring Comes Again

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Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, they don't like me.

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Summary: It's seven o' clock on a mild spring morning, and they're one hour from "I do". Zack/Lillia fluff.

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It's seven o' clock on a mild spring morning, and he's one hour from I do.

Zack reaches up to give his bowtie and absent tweak, and Kai, who has just finished tying Rick's hair into a decorous braid, gives a groan of annoyances and hurries over to readjust.

One of these days, he'll have to get around to explaining to Kai that fussing over his a group of grown men's looks isn't exactly the best way to convince Karen not to constantly call him "Mineral Town's very own metrosexual".

But for now, he's too busy trying to clear his head of the dizzy, nervous expectation of his dearest dream of years coming true in less than an hour now.

Maybe not the way he's always dreamed; long before the wedding, shortly after he proposed and she accepted as graciously and sweetly as she does everything, she explained to him very seriously that her heart would never be entirely his, because part of it would remain forever with her first husband.

Which would be fine, if she knew the whole truth.

Resolutely shoving that thought out of his head, he ponders instead exactly what his bride-to-be is doing right now, and grins at the idea of Lillia smiling sweetly and serenely in her bedroom at the Poultry Farm, with a bevy of giggling little bridesmaids and bridesmatrons fussing over her dress and hair and make-up.

It's just a good thing that the younger generation eagerly volunteered when Anna, Sasha, and Manna bowed out of the honour with indulgent smiles. Although, he suspects that the idea of four more bridesmaids and groomsmen to supplement Popuri and Rick was more the aforementioned young lady's idea than Lillia's.

But, as Lillia said with a merry, sparkling laugh as Popuri ordered Karen, Ann, Mary, and Elli over for a special meeting to flip through some pattern books for good bridesmaid dresses, at least they're having fun.

Cliff, Rick, and Gray seem about as comfortable with all this tuxedo and bowtie business as he is, if their fidgeting and grimacing is any indication, and Zack wonders briefly just how much pleading it took Ann and Mary to get their respective boyfriends involved.

"Alright, Kai, I think he needs some room to breathe," Dr. Cuthbert finally announces firmly, steering the swarthy young man away from the industriously hyperventilating groom, and pointing him instead at Cliff and Gray, who promptly backed towards the door.

"Hey, wait a second!" Kai protests, bolting out the door after them. "Cliff, I still need to braid you!"

The doctor heaves a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead and trying to hide a smile.

"Uh, why don't we meet you two at the church?"

"Thank God," Rick mutters as the door clicks shut. "I just hope he manages to get there instead of stopping by the farm to swoon over Elli in a low-cut dress, under the pretence of checking on Mom."

"No kidding," Zack agrees with a grin, absently de-adjusting his bowtie once again. Then, as a needling sensation of guilt resumes its steady schedule of poking him repeatedly in the brain, he sobers. "Look, Rick, I need to talk to you about something."

Rick's expression goes from fidgety and annoyed to bewildered.

"Uh, okay…"

"I wanted to run this by you first before I made a decision, and I'm taking a bit of a risk, because you might hate me for this, and—"

"Zack, just spit it out," Rick orders laughingly. "You're getting married in an hour."

"That's why I have to do this now," he sighs. "Look, there's something I haven't been totally honest with you three about." Rick watches, mystified, as Zack hurries to the little, low chest of drawers and pulls out a creased and crumpled little slip of paper. "I got this about two years ago."

As Zack hands him the paper, Rick stares, going swiftly pale.

"Dad?" he chokes.

Zack nods grimly.

"When—when did he write this?"

"About two years and a month ago," the older man sighed.

"But that was after we got word that he was lost in the storm!" Rick protested, and Zack can't tell if he desperately wants to believe what he's hearing, or desperately doesn't.

"Yeah, about a year after; turns out, someone screwed up big time in sending that notice to your mother." By now, Rick is shaking noticeably, and Zack leads him firmly to a chair before continuing. "Now you see the problem. Do I tell your mother, or don't I?"

The sandy-haired young man, siting with his face buried in his hands, looks up in disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell us right away?"

"Read it," Zack orders, snatching the letter back, unfolding it, and shoving it back at Rick.

Shooting the older man one more disbelieving look, Rick looks down and quickly scans the hastily scrawled lines.

Dear Zack,

It's been a while, hasn't it, kid? I guess you're probably surprised to get this, if you just got used to the idea that I got bumped off by a windstorm, but suffice it to say, reports of my death were a little premature. I'm just fine, and I should have written ages ago. I'm not going to use the hectic nature of travel to excuse putting it off so long, because if a man wants to write a letter, he can damn well make time, and I haven't. But I'm not asking for forgiveness, because there's a hell of a lot more to forgive than a misunderstanding and a long time between letters.

I feel like I'm in a dream. I'm no damn lovesick kid, and I can't blame this on the full moon, or too much wine, because it's been almost a year, and it hasn't gone away. I don't know where to start. There are no words to describe Ophelia. I got a lead on the flower about a year ago, from a botanist in South America, and Ophelia was his lab assistant.

Was, because I kind of snagged her and took her with me, seeing as how everything I know about plants could fit on the back of a postage stamp. Never would have got off that island, if she hadn't been with me. Long story short, I won't put her in that kind of danger again, and I can't live without her. If we get any further leads on the location or nature of the flower, we'll follow up on them, but Christ, it's been ten years, Zack. I'm starting to think that flower was just a fairy story.

For as long as I've known you, even back when you were an angry kid with a grudge at the world, you've been a better friend than any man deserves, and a better man than I'll ever be. I don't know if you 'll still think of me as a friend, at least, if you've been reading carefully, but there's one more thing I'm going to need to ask you to do.

Lillia deservs better than to get this news from a letter, and I don't think I can face her. Please tell Lilli I'm alive and well, and thinking of her everyday. She'll always be like a dear little sister to me, but sometimes things happen that we can't control. Tell Poppi that I got her photos and she's grown up as beautiful as her mother, and tell Rick that I've seen the annual reports and he's running that farm a hell of a lot better than I ever could, and tell them that I'm proud of them, whether or not they can still be proud of me.

I don't count on seeing anyone in town again, and I wish I could leave you with a better memory than this, but I guess that's life.

Take care, Zack.

Rod.

It seems to take Rick a long time to put the letter back down on the table and look up.

"There was another woman? That's why he never came back?"

"Yeah," Zack replies grimly. "That's also why I didn't give this to your mother."

"And he sent you to tell Mom because didn't even have the balls to come back here and tell her himself?" Rick is still trembling, but Zack suspects that it's the same kind of tremble that made him overturn tables and throw breakables the night he got that letter.

"I wanted to give it to her right away," Zack admits, voice cracking slightly as he drops to the chair next to Rick. "I thought there was no point in her wasting her tears on a man who could treat her that way, and if I'm totally honest, I thought I'd have a better chance if she didn't think of Rod and remember the hero that lost his life trying to cure her."

"But you didn't tell her," Rick says flatly. "Why?"

Zack rubs his eyes, then looks up with a sad smile.

"I—I didn't want to hurt her even worse, just when she was starting to heal."

"Damn it," Rick mutters thickly around a sniffle, both for the memory of his mother's anguish and for the pain of the man next to him. He pulls off his glasses and wipes his eyes. "I don't know what to say. Maybe you were a bit hasty back then, but hell, three years later? What's it going to help now? It's just going to take away the chance to get on with her life."

"You think I shouldn't tell her, then."

Rick sighs.

"I think it's your call, Zack. I know you'd never do anything to hurt Mom, and whatever you decide is alright with me."

"How do you think Popuri would take it?"

Rick frowns thoughtfully.

"It's hard to say. She might just be glad he's alive, even if he never plans on seeing any of us again. But she's kind of enamoured with the idea that Dad died a hero, trying to save Mom. If she finds out he had a near miss and stopped trying, it might upset her even more. But when you get right down to it, this is about you, Mom, and Dad, not about Poppi and me." A long, heavy silence, and Rick squeezes Zack's shoulder. "I'm gonna go see if the doctor needs any help rounding up the troops. See you in a bit."

The door clicks shut behind him, and Zack sits for a long time, staring at the letter crumpled on the tabletop.

He could easily drive away the memory of her fallen hero, and have her totally to himself. She would be horrified and embarrassed at her own gullibility, and then bitterly angry over Rod's desertion. He's almost certain that she could never hold onto her quiet, patient devotion to a man like that.

If only he could decide whether or not it's worth risking that part of her, just so he doesn't have to share her with a man who never really existed.

Five minutes later, decision made, he stands resolutely and starts toward the door, tossing the shreds of Rod's last letter into the trash bin as he leaves the little shack to meet his bride.

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