disclaimer: final fantasy vii and its characters are property of squaresoft, inc. no profit was made in the creation of this fic.
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chrysanthemum
by magnum opus
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She never expected it would be easy, walking through those familiar doors into the dank small room, but it was something she needed to do.
It had been a while since she last came here, but she recalled every single detail, from the spider-web cracks creeping up from the corner of the smog-smudged windowpane, to the loose panel of the floorboard that groaned out a warning as her high-heeled pumps came to rest near the foot of the tiny cot. There was a fine layer of dust on the faded sheets, and someone had shoved the cupboard violently against the wall, such that her cracked reflection gazed back at her from one of the open doors, but other than that, it seemed as though no one had set foot in the room since she left that night five years ago.
It all seemed surreal actually, she thought as she tapped the rotting wooden bed frame gingerly with a manicured finger. If she tried hard enough she could almost see a little blonde head just peeking out of the coverlet as the angry roars and muffled cries echoed outside the door. And the small child would be too scared to come out from her cocoon even to try to retrieve Mr. Fluffy, who had fallen in a rather forlorn heap under the bed when she had first dived for cover to quieten herself, because any sound could send him storming in.
She wasn't afraid, so she knelt down and picked up the ratty grey rabbit from where it hid, before sinking down on the creaky spring mattress and plopping the bunny on her lap.
"Hey there."
Its one black button-eye glared accusingly at her, and she heaved a sigh. She was late.
"I'm sorry," she murmured to the empty air. "I didn't mean to take so long," She paused, unsure. "I'm a Turk now. I hope you don't mind."
Mr. Fluffy's eye softened and he looked away, his head drooping to face the revolver strapped by her side. She lifted her hand and touched the warm barrel tentatively. It made her want to cry.
She remembered the bedtime stories of princess with golden hair and princes with white horses. They would giggle together and dream of days when they could feel their age. And as they snuggled together in bed on the nights when he wasn't around, they would sing lullabies to put each other to sleep. She could still hear snatches of song as she smoothed out the covers beside her, imagining the shivering lump that no longer existed, gazing towards her with pale blue eyes and smiling lips as she childishly crooned.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise"
The inhabitants of Sector Six never held much regard for teenage mothers and their bastard daughters, so they just made the best of what they had. Those were the happiest times, when they could pretend that there was hope, and that fear didn't lurk around the corner in the bar down the neon street. But she had known their days together had been numbered from the start. There was never enough food, and he took most of the money they had in exchange for her bed. Still she wondered if things could have turned out differently if she had been a little older, a little stronger, a little wiser then. Perhaps they would still be alive.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again. "But I never regretted anything you know," she continued a little louder, feeling rather foolish that she was defending herself against non-existent accusations. "I hope you didn't."
She used to love chrysanthemums, despite their morbid nature. Yellow was her favourite colour, pretty like Mummy's hair. They helped to brighten the dreary room and reminded her of Mummy when she wasn't around, she liked to say. She had always been precocious. But it was painful to think about that, so she picked up the flowers that she had brought and showed them to the rabbit instead.
"Do you think she'd have liked them?"
Mr. Fluffy sniffed at them tentatively, and nodded an approval. It was okay then, because what Mr. Fluffy liked, she had liked too. That had been the way until the end, even as she had sipped the last of her cough syrup and smiled, before closing her eyes.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free"
There was a light tap on the door frame, and she brushed at her face as she turned towards the door.
"Scarlet." The piercing brown eyes of her partner gazed down at her in empathy, but the emotion was shielded as quickly as it appeared. "Clean-up is on its way. Do you need more time?"
"No, it's okay." She got up and brushed herself off, before realising she still held Mr. Fluffy in one hand by his ear and hastened to put him down. He shook his head.
"I'll tell them to hold off for five minutes."
"… Thanks, Tseng."
He gave a curt nod, and moved back towards the living room, his shoes tapping noiselessly on the floorboards. One of these days, she decided, she would walk the way he did, with her head held high and nothing left to haunt her. For now, she arranged the covers and tucked Mr. Fluffy in, placing the chrysanthemums neatly over his body.
"I have to go now. I don't think I'll be back anymore." She straightened and let her last tear fall. "Happy birthday sweetheart. Mummy will never forget you."
She didn't look back as she strode past the cooling body on the living room floor. She didn't blink as Tseng reported their status through the cackling PHS and nodded to the crew to begin their preparations. She didn't flinch as the blast resounded through the air and rattled the sides of the helicopter. The bruises and scars became faded memories of yesterday.
"Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark, black night"
Yes, today she would begin her new life.
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( end, 12112004 )
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author's notes:
mainly written on post-its, hence the choppy nature, though that should not be an excuse.
lyrics from "blackbird" by the beatles.