Ghosts
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its locations and characters are property of Square Enix. The story is my own.
It was his fault she was dead. The thought would not leave him, would not stop plaguing him, tugging at his mind. The memories would not leave, ever flitting round the edge of Memory's conscious thought, and so he could not banish them, could not stop them from throbbing like a sore tooth; and in turn he could not stop himself from thinking about what he could have done, should have done…could never do now.
He rolled onto his other side, further tangling the sleeping bag around his legs. He could hear the rest of the rag-tag bunch that formed the eco-terrorist-turned-saviors-of-the-Planet group known as AVALANCHE breathing softly, or not-so-softly, around him.
He closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him, drag him into darkness and relieve him of the endless cycle of painful memories for a few short hours; but he knew that sleep would elude him, or more likely, his sleep would be filled with Nightmares, with her face.
He was the first one up the next morning, or perhaps he never slept, either way he was awake, already rolling up his sleeping bag and packing away the camping equipment, preparing for an early start.
He was the last to board the Highwind, pausing to look back towards the east where a golden sun was just peaking over the mountains spreading warm rays over the land. As he gazed upon the sunrise, a new thought rose unbidden within him, from some secret place he had not known before. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be…All Right.
Fin.