Author's Note: Oneshot. Not in the same timeline as "Metathesiophobia" or "Private Translations."
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters belong to Square Enix and many others. Sadly, I'm not one of them.
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The Road to Damascus
By Lady Calliope
Bloodshot eyes never forecast anything good—especially when they happen to be on a woman.
"You got allergies or somethin'?"
Eyes swing up to me and away—a hand hastily wipes at her cheeks so I can't see what else is in her face. Or at least she thinks I can't see it. Women.
"N...no. No allergies." A tight smile and her gaze finally meets mine. "Just something in my eye." Then she looks away again: she wants me to leave. Tough luck. Like I'd let a weepy woman run around a place like this by herself at night—it's eerie enough in the daytime and who knows what the Ancients left behind here. Besides, full moons tend to bring out the worst in a place.
I can guess what she's been crying about. "Aeris was a good kid." And her friend, but I don't think she needs a reminder. "But if there's anythin' I've learned from all this it's that Ancients sure as hell don't go all at once. They linger." I have no idea if what I'm saying is helping or hurting, but I can tell by the curve of her eyebrow that she doesn't understand what I'm getting at. "Look, they're all gone but this place still feels alive and inhabited. It's downright uncanny. What I'm tryin' to say is that—"
"—she's not really gone, right? That she's still here with us, in us? All around in the trees and air and water?" She sounds like she's reciting a card. Well, that's the last time I try to get all philosophical to stop a woman crying. Apparently comfort is cliché nowadays.
"Right. Yeah. I guess that's what I'm tryin' to say." Brown hair falls back in her eyes. Hiding again? Then she whispers so soft I can't hear anything but the air. "What'd you say?"
"I said, 'that's what I'm afraid of.'"
"Oh. Maybe she's not here…then. Yeah. Nothin' here but creepy trees."
We both start playing the avoidance game, looking at everything but each other. It's times like these I wish I had spent a little more time around my mother in the kitchen and less time with my old man in the garage. If Mom were here she'd just say "I'll put the kettle on, dear" and things would be right as rain, just like that. I can fix things I can touch because I know exactly what the hell I'm dealing with: metal and wires are as real as it gets.
But the trouble with a place made all of white is that you can't tell if it's real or not. Your feet thud on the ground and sweat stains your clothes but somehow you can't help wondering if you've stumbled into someone's dream. Maybe it's your own, maybe it's your enemy's, hell, maybe it's the planet's dream. Point is, it's a damn unsettling feeling not knowing whether you exist or not.
Her hand wipes at her eye then and our halftime's over.
"Can you keep a secret, Cid?"
No one has ever told me secrets before. I suppose I look like the type that wouldn't be all that interested—or maybe between the cigarettes and the engine grease they get the idea that I wouldn't understand them.
"If you want me to."
"I do."
"Then yeah, I can."
Whatever the case, I've never been anyone's confidante. Tifa confessing to me was only one of the many clues that pointed to one unequivocal fact.
There's something very wrong in this place.
Elsewhere is filled with the world and the hum and the coming and going. Here there's nothing but calcified trees, silence, and what you brought in with you. And some bring in more than others.
"I know I shouldn't be and I know it's awful but there's a truth I've been hiding from ever since she died." Pause. "It's like part of me…is almost…happy that she's gone."
Well.
She takes my stunned expression for something more judgmental. "You must think I'm a terrible person. And I know it's wrong to be happy or even feel anything good about one of your friends dying, but I feel lighter. I can't help it! Like I'd kept a part of me all fenced in and secure whenever she was around because she had no right to it or because I didn't want her to see it and now…"
Her words drift off into the too still air and the only thing I can think about is that I've never seen her this unrestrained. She's been the one we could count on—not exactly always upbeat like Aeris but always practical. Like nothing could shake her faith in what she was doing, what she believed. Seeing this side of her, well, it's almost a relief. Seems like she's imperfect after all.
"You don't have to go explainin' yourself to me. You can't help feelin' what you feel. No one can." She looks at me with curious eyes and suddenly I think I know. "You love him and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Anyone could see that."
"But—"
"It doesn't make you a terrible person. I think it just makes you human. In my opinion, leastaways."
Her whole face softens just a little bit and I realize I'm thankful it was me that found her. Usually Cloud's the only one who gets looks like this and it feels damn good to have one for myself.
"Cid." Wetness starts gathering at the corners of her eyes and for a second I think I've made things worse. But instead of crying or even turning away she stands from her spot on the flattened grass next to me, wipes her skirt, and kisses me. Just a quick peck on the lips, nothing intimate, yet her smile has my pulse jumping. "Thanks. I needed that."
She keeps that tilt to her lips as she walks away, back towards camp and the others. For a moment I pretend that it wasn't the first time we've done that, that she's looked at me like that before, that I don't have a woman with guilt and calluses on her hands waiting for me back in Rocket Town. But then Tifa turns and asks if I'm walking back or staying here and I shake my head clear.
We've both got someone else and this forest has already seen too much of us.
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fin