Author's Note: This story takes place after the events of the original game and Advent Children. For more insight into my characterization of Aeris, I invite you to see my other stories featuring her, entitled "Is This All?" and "Beyond Forgiveness".

Disclaimer: I own no part of Final Fantasy VII, and make no money from borrowing its characters.

Water

Cloud.

He awakens slowly, to the pattering of raindrops on his bedroom window. The blankets have slid away from his upper body at some point during the night, and he pushes them down even further in the act of sitting up. His knees curl toward his bare chest, and he rests his elbows on them before rubbing his eyes slowly, almost as though his intent is to massage them rather than to clear his vision.

Cloud, she repeats.

His eyes open, far more quickly this time, and their glow illuminates his fingertips dimly. The first place he turns to is the room's single door, which is still closed and, he can just barely tell, locked. Neither the window nor the closet show any sign of having been tampered with, but he leaves the bed cautiously just the same, fully aware that there is no safety complete enough to shut out a sufficiently dire threat.

"Tifa?" he whispers. His voice comes out in a rasp, and he takes a sip from the glass of water on the nightstand. Even though he has called for her, he knows that the voice does not belong to Tifa; logic, however, defies him to come up with a likelier suspect. It's so familiar, but--

Cloud, she says, a third time, and his head shoots up as the last drops of water dry on his lips.

"Aeris," he breathes.

A shimmer of pink in the small mirror on his dresser catches his eye, but when he turns to examine it more closely, it has already vanished. The church, Cloud, the voice says, with gentle firmness. Meet me at the church.

"Aeris, is that you?" He licks his lips and turns in a circle, seeking any visible sign of her presence. "Answer me if it is."

Come to the church, Cloud. Again, there is a flicker of pink in the mirror; a moment later, lightning flashes through the empty room. I'll be waiting there for you.

He hesitates. Perhaps he's waiting for her to speak again; perhaps he's wondering whether her voice was simply a particularly vivid dream. Not even he knows for certain what exactly is going through his head, but in the end, he grabs a shirt and pants from the floor, puts them on, takes his coat from the hook by the door, and fumbles in its pockets for the keys to his motorcycle. The cold weight of the metal is comforting in his hand, and he nods resolutely as he opens the door and steps out into the hallway. He moves slowly, careful to avoid waking Tifa, but nevertheless manages to escape into the storm before his better judgment can catch up with him.

For the chance to see her again, he would risk far more than the threat of an evening wasted amid the wrath of the elements.

---

The church is much as he left it the last time he visited, and he stops his bike at a respectful distance from its doors. His coat clings to him as he walks the rest of the way, and he wishes that he had thought to wear something more than a thin, sleeveless shirt underneath it, but he puts his discomfort aside. His mind is filled with the impossibility of the situation, and even as he pushes the door of the church open far enough to allow him entrance, he expects to find it empty.

There she is, however, kneeling at the centre of the pool which has replaced the flowerbed to which she once tended so lovingly. The rain continues to fall around her, but of course, she doesn't take any notice of it. She simply kneels there, on the water, and it seems that he's stood there in the doorway for an eternity by the time that she finally lifts her head, and meets his eyes.

"I'm glad that you came," she says with a smile, and she looks so much like she did that night in the City of the Ancients that he has to check an urge to run forward, and pull her out of the path of an assassin who has since met his own end.

"Aeris," he says, and allows the door of the church to close behind him as he takes one step forward, then another. "I… I'm glad to see you too."

Her smile grows broader, and she stands up, smoothing out her dress as she does despite the fact that it bears no wrinkles. "Come closer. I won't hurt you."

He takes another few steps forward, but still, there are at least seven pews separating him from the edge of the pool on which she stands. "Why did you ask me to come here, Aeris?" he asks, his voice edged only with bewilderment.

"I need to talk to you." She clasps her hands over her stomach. "Are you afraid of me, Cloud?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not."

She chuckles. "Oh, Cloud," she says, and though her tone might be described as indulgent, there is a shadow in her eyes that intimidates him.

"What?"

Her smile withers into a nearly imperceptible frown. "Are you still trying to protect me?"

"I don't--"

"Because you're perfectly awful at it." She spreads her hands, and looks up at the sky, as though she is attempting to commune with the gods or, perhaps, the Planet. "I'm sorry. I just… I was looking forward to speaking with you honestly, for once, without all that… biting our tongues, and dancing around things." Her arms fall back to her sides, and she lowers her head.

"Aeris…" He drifts a few paces closer. Now, only five pews separate them. "Are you alright?"

She laughs, and wraps her arms around herself. She does not look at him. "I don't know."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

For a time, she is silent. Then, she lifts her head, and meets his gaze anew. "Do you remember that dream you had, when we spoke in that field of flowers?"

He nods. "Yes."

"You said that you felt as though you'd let me die."

"Yes," he repeats, a bit more apprehensively.

"I lied to you then." For a moment, she glances away, and he can tell that it's an effort for her to force her eyes back to him. "I do blame you. Or, at least, I did then." She sighs. "Right now, I'm not so sure."

Now, it's his turn to look away. "I see," is all he can manage at first, but before long, he adds, "Why didn't you tell me so then?"

"I thought that you had enough on your plate, what with Sephiroth and the Geostigma." She shakes her head. "No, that's not really true. Maybe I was just afraid to tell you. Maybe I was afraid to be honest."

"Why?"

She smiles, and he finds the expression almost unbearably sad. "You can get used to being thought of as a saint, you know," she says, almost conversationally. "I suppose that I felt the need to continue playing that role, even once everything else was over. I suppose that I could never quite let go of it, no matter how much I told myself that I wanted to." She stares at him, and laughs. "You don't understand a word of what I'm saying."

"I'm trying," he offers.

"I know. I appreciate it." She turns away from him, and looks up at the sky. He can see her face, just barely, through the hair hanging loose from her braid. "I came to say goodbye, Cloud. I don't think that we'll be seeing each other again for a while… if we ever do."

Something akin to panic takes over his mental state, and he surges forward, stopping just before the last pew. "Why? Is something wrong with the Lifestream? Is something happening to you?"

"I'm tired, Cloud." She bows her head again. "I'm so tired, and I can't keep this charade up anymore. I can't take care of you anymore."

"You don't have to, though. Sephiroth's dead, and… everything's alright now. You said it yourself." He continues to advance, very slowly. "There's nothing left to do. You don't need to take care of us any more. You can just…"

"Just what?" she asks, when it becomes clear that he's having trouble finishing his own thought.

"Stay with me," he says, almost desperately. He's a scant few steps from the edge of the water. "Please. Stay."

"Oh, Cloud." She begins to move across the water, but stops just outside of his reach. "It's time for us to let go. It's over now… and we can't pretend that it isn't." He turns away, and she frowns. "Cloud, look at me."

He forces himself to obey, and tries to look past his image of her, the predilections that, according to her, he was only too willing to accept, and she was only too willing to help him maintain. And yes, he can see evidence of the fatigue she mentioned: her eyes are no longer quite so luminous, and the aura around her is proportionately dimmer. He understands that what she's saying is the truth, and that it would be both foolish and selfish to try to change her mind, but even so, he cannot simply ignore what, he now realizes, has been his greatest desire since he surrendered her body to the water, a lifetime ago and a world away. He cannot stop himself from wanting her back, no matter what the terms or limitations of such a return might be.

"We deserve better than this," she says as she moves forward just a bit more, placing them finally close enough to touch. Immediately, he reaches for her, but his hand simply passes through her form, and her next smile does not reach her eyes.

"It shouldn't have been like this. It should be different."

"But it was, and it isn't." She reaches for his hand, and they both watch as hers passes through it. "Don't you see that?"

"Yes," he is finally forced to admit, if only at length.

She lifts her arms so that they appear to be resting on his shoulders, and leans her head down toward his chest; he lowers his own, and surrounds her in a loose embrace. "I love you, you know," she says. "That wasn't a lie."

"I love you, too," he replies, without thinking.

She looks up at him, gives him one last smile, and begins to walk backward, onto the surface of the water. "Of course you do. I made it easy." She clasps her hands again, and kneels down. "I wonder if you would have felt the same way if I'd said some of the things I wanted to, instead of just what I felt I should."

"I would have. I'd love you no matter what."

"I suppose we'll never know now, will we?" Green tendrils begin to swirl up from the water, and entwine themselves around her. "Take care of yourself, Cloud."

He watches her fade into the Lifestream. When she is gone, he looks up at the grey sky through the open roof, and lets the rain mingle with the tears streaming down his face. Tomorrow, he will have to be strong, but for now, he can indulge in one final moment of weakness.

He tries to tell himself that, if she were still watching, she would forgive even this.