Based on the lyrics of "Secret Soul" from the Jane Eyre musical. A few phrases from the song are in the story. I own neither the story nor the characters of Cid and Shera.

I look to the ceiling, wondering what to do now, as if a booming voice would tell me. I could leave, now that he's gone. I could go away from the swearing and the shouting and yet I stay, taking my cloth to dust the furniture as I wait for his return. The whispers of those in the town couldn't stop me from staying here with him. Nothing they say could make me love him less. But a part of me is wondering how much more I could take; I shake it off, placing the lamp back in its proper place. Moving on to the next table a small voice whispers that he's in danger with his mission with Cloud. Biting my lip I have nothing to look for comfort save for the dust that I'm getting rid of. Maybe I should leave it there until he returns…but no, the Captain should have a nice home when he does return. He just has to return.

I take a step back and survey my work. I'm alone. I could do anything I want and yet I still do my work. The voice returns, prodding me for just one reason as to why I'm still here but I ignore it again. I told Cloud that I would live for the Captain and I am. Every day I look for his goodness, partially afraid of what I'll find. But I know it's there, I just have to pay closer attention. At night I find myself praying that I could somehow be carried closer to him so that I could discover it, but that hasn't happened. Yet.

During the nights, between my prayers that I could get closer to him, I release myself. Crying tears that I know he doesn't have but wants to, and feeling the fears that he says he doesn't have. I take his angry voice, letting it sail over me. I've gotten better at it. It used to penetrate my skin and I would stare at the wall wondering why he was doing these things but I simply nod, shutting the window or boiling the tea as he 'requests'. His life has infected me but I no longer mind. The fact that he's not here to do so makes me feel weak. I miss him more than I can say.

Moving on to do the dishes, I look out the window, praying that mercy's hand will bless me; that I will have the strength to go farther into him.

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Author's Notes: Thank you for reading!