The Spaces Between
by Stellar Belle
Summary: Being a world apart, he finally learns, isn't so hard to tolerate. A Cloud x Aerith one shot story, after the events of AC. Read and review!
Who knew someone who was only an arm's reach away could be suddenly whisked away? He didn't. And it beat him, crushed him, killed him, made him cry.
For what seemed like more than eternity and beyond, he was grieving. Grieving because his promises fell short, and the consequences were dire. Someone he realized (a little too late) was more than a flower girl who played the role as innocent, pure of heart, and sincere suffered. And each time his eyes would close he could just hear the long sword whipping through the air before making contact with her thin, limber body, ripping through her porcelain skin, her emerald eyes widening before falling dead and closed. And he remember just standing there, not even able to give her a last word.
She was the most important thing. Well, seeking redemption was. Midgar was in ruin. He had what seemed like a family in the longest time. He no longer had to raise his sword and strike another being again. But why was it that he felt as though it was what he needed to do? That it was the only thing? He knew taking the life of another wouldn't raise her up and bring her back; but there was always that goddamn false hope, that maybe he could pay his debt with more and more sacrificed beings so she can just come back, even if it were just for a moment. Just so he can look into her eyes once more without it being a fragment of his imagination. Just so he can touch her skin without it vanishing into vapor. Just so he can smell her, talk to her, feel her, look at her, be with her. Just for a minute. Just so he can tell her what he felt and that he would exchange his sorry excuse for a life for her's in a fraction of a second.
But she couldn't, she wouldn't, and she probably never will.
He opened the doors of the church. Quiet and eery. He stepped through the rickety wooden planks of the floor, each step leaving a slamming noise that would echo on and on until it died. There were no candles to illuminate the church; just the sun seeping through the stained glass window, giving it a glow with a palette of colors: green, lavender, turquoise.
The flowers were no longer intact, in bloom, in color, beautiful. They remained afloating on a small pond. He bent over and plucked one of the last dry, remaining flowers by the stem, bringing it to his nose. The fragrance bathed the insides of his nostrils.
Even though the appearances resembled him little, Cloud felt they were just like him. He felt strange to find companionship with a batch of mute, immovable flowers, but he could feel a bit of himself every time he'd smell them. The flowers had lost their caretaker. They no longer can feel the touch of the one who tended to their wounds. They had no one to tend to them; and without her, they'd die. That was why he took liberty upon taking care of them, sincethat she was gone. And maybe, those flowers could heal him, with their lovely appearance, the fragrance that would leave him in a dreamy stupor only minutes after.
And with those flowers, he used to cry. He, who was an EX-SOLDIER, would cry. He, who has recently just saved the whole goddamn plant, would cry. Only in one place, only at one time. He would cry and the flowers would drink those tears and grow. Funny how out of everything, a memory was what brought him to his knees.
And that's what he did. He cried. The minute he brought that lily to his nose, he collapsed to his knees and his hands fell. His body slouched and his head was brought down. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to force his tears back down his throat but it proved fruitless the minute his tears somehow seeped through his shut eyes and down his face. This would be the final time. He was surprised this time around, he believed his burden to have lifted even just a bit; after all, he had just recently defeated his greatest rival again.
"Can you hear me?" he whispered, however sharp enough for it to cause an echo. Now, he no longer hesitated the tears to fall.
"I believe that.. I'll see your face again one day."
His voice, despite the tears, remained stern and unruffled. He smiled.
"I also believe that.. I found.. It. Happiness."
He rose his head up to look towards the sky.
"I still wish," he said. "I could share it with you."
Suddenly, a hard, strong wind gusted in through the hole in the roof, blowing down onto his face, running through his blonde hair like a thousand wild fingers. Small, light objects began flying into the air. He shut his eyes immediately.
The wind ring in his ears; thunder seemed lull in comparison. He couldn't stand the whispering until he heard it. A soft, serene voice.
"Of course I feel it," it whispered. A hand was softly placed against his face. A brilliant warmth the electrocuted his whole body with a mere touch of the hand. "I am always with you, Cloud."
And then it was gone.
The warming touch, the powerful wind, and then, the encumbrance. The guilt that seemed to cause a gust of depression, longing, nostalgia. Everything that seemed so hard to let go of and to except seemed to just fade into dust with the wind.
He opened his eyes to find the room back in its regular state. He took the flower in his hand and kissed it before throwing it into the pond, letting it float for just a moment before sinking to the bottom.
"Goodbye, Aerith."
Then he realized, as he got up and left the church, how his goodbye never really did sound like goodbye.