Her smile hides half of what she wants to say and half of what she doesn't.
It doesn't take him long to lose track of the number of mornings he finds her at the kitchen table, hunched over a glass of chocolate milk, eyes red-rimmed and tear tracks barely visible in the candlelight.
He never knows what to say. "Yuffie," he says, and she looks up and grins.
"Good morning," she chirps, "C'mon, Squall, let's go treasure-hunting!"
"It's Leon," he says, instinctively.
Yuffie turns back to her chocolate milk and takes a gulp. For a time, they're silent. She doesn't look at him, and he finds himself watching the way her fingers twitch around the glass.
With a bright smile, she turns to him. "So, yesterday, I found this cool building in First District where you can see the whole city from the top of the roof, and you know, Squall? It's so pretty. I mean, the way it lights up at night? It's almost like how it was..."
She swallows her words with the next gulp of milk. "I'll see you later, Leon," she says, and then, Yuffie slips out the door, grinning.
He never knows what to say.
His grip on his gunblade keeps him from repeating his mistakes.
Even when he stumbles, even when he falls, he keeps a firm hold of his weapon, and when it does go sailing from his hands, she can see the fury, the twist of his mouth, the self-revulsion in his eyes.
"Leon," she says, his new name still foreign on her mouth.
Not because she doesn't understand, but because, sometimes, she just misses the familiarity that Squall brings. He looks at her through his bangs, and she hands him back his gunblade. Quickly, he takes it from her, and then resumes training.
"Leon," she tries again. "Please."
She can't be his defender, can't be his brother-in-arms, because that was always Cloud, and no one can replace Cloud (a fact that they're all learning). But she can be his reason.
Leon puts himself through one more maneuver with the gunblade, and then twists to look at her. "Aerith, I can't-"
"Please," she repeats.
For a moment, she thinks he's going to refuse, going to make her leave, because he's done it before, and then he slowly lowers the weapon. "Aerith, I..." he studies her. "Alright."
She can remind him to eat.
Her easy guidance and soothing encouragement make it easy to forget that she's just a kid too.
The first time he finds her standing at the world entrance, he thinks that maybe she doesn't realize that he came back from that supply run yesterday. "Aerith?" he asks.
She turns, pulling her hand away from her mouth.
Her shorn nails are testament to her nervous habit. "Yes?" she asks, voice quiet. "Is everything all right?"
"Looks like I should be askin' you that," he says.
Her expression smooths into the gentle one he's used to seeing. "I'm fine. Let's go-I'll make you some tea with dinner," she suggests.
Without another word, she links arms with him, and Cid can't help but grin. It's a little worn, a little harder to smile that it's supposed to be. After all, he's not stupid. She was waiting for Cloud. Again.
Aerith's faith is incredible-she won't stop believing they'll all meet again, even after...
He glances at her, at her distant look and sighs. All he has left to offer is honesty.
"He might not be comin' back. We'll keep looking, but..."
She says nothing.
He can offer honesty, whether or not she wants it.
His gruffness keeps the anxiety at bay.
"Clumsy punk, be more goddamn careful!" he tells her, wrapping her bleeding arm as best he can.
She'd run straight into a group of Heartless that had been harder to kill than she'd thought they'd be. Yuffie looks at him, at the frenzied way he's wrapping up her arm. "I'm gonna be fine. Just a scratch."
"Get enough scratches," he snaps, "And you won't live to sixteen. We can't always be your fucking babysitter."
When he's satisfied that she won't bleed out before they reach Aerith, they start walking again. Cid's shoulders are hunched and he grumbles to himself.
"Hey, old man, race ya!" she says, because she can't be better, can't be safer in a universe filled with Heartless.
All she can do is help him forget.
For a second, he looks at her, and then he laughs. "You're jokin', brat."
"What?" she asks, grinning. "Too scared to race the Great Ninja Yuffie?"
"Bah," he spits, and she takes off before he can get in another word.
From behind, she hears his startled laugh, and then his feet hitting the cobblestones hard.
She can't fix anything, but she can make him forget.
