Word Count: 616
Timeline/Spoilers: set during Disc 1 of the game, sometime after the entire party has been collected; allusions to Crisis Core, but no real spoilers
Summary: Humans are not the only ones who have to live with their regrets. Nanaki knows this better than most. ; gen fic
Notes: Originally this was just about Aerith, but Nanaki (and Vincent!) kind of came in and took over haha. I like it better this way, though. Hopefully, you do, too.
There are times when she wakes in the dead of night, panting and drenched with sweat. Always, she settles down and calms herself quietly, careful not to rouse the other members of the party. It would not do to have a group of battle-ready warriors with weapons drawn in the early hours of the morning causing a commotion over nothing. Just a silly dream, she swears it. She'd turn around, fling that signature braid over her shoulder, with hands clasped behind her back, and laugh it off if anyone asked. It's a practiced, seamless move of evasion that she learned to use early on. Silly, airheaded Aerith only cares about pretty plants and gleeful giggles after all. Things of substance neither concern nor interest her.
So she has a hard time wrapping her head around why the image of a dead man sodden in his own blood continues to haunt her. It's been ages since she'd last lain eyes on the real thing, and she's moved on. She had dismissed him as a flirt, a player in front of the others, downplaying their relationship as no more than a mere teenage fling. So then why does the thought of his sleeping face (only sleeping; he'll wake soon, he has to) sting more than the tangible slice of a blade across her porcelain skin in the heat of battle?
She politely declines to comment. Shoulders shaking, she slips back into a fitful sleep.
.
Nanaki, conscious but soundless throughout the ordeal, never so much as twitches his tail. He does not rise from his spot across the extinguished fire pit to console her, sensing the need for privacy in this moment. And he certainly doesn't tell her that his sensitive nose had picked up the telltale scent of saltiness in the air, or the fact that his keen hearing had detected the hushed sobs and soft pitter patter of tears bouncing off the fabric of her blanket.
Many a night passes this way, and humans continue to confound him. Not a single other member of their team can deny having deep-seated issues of their own, from their fearless leader whose mental health balances on a precarious edge, to the spunky, teenage ninja who carries the fate of an entire nation on her skinny shoulders. Why they all don't just seek comfort from one another is beyond him.
But Aerith has always been special. While Cloud may be the one in charge, she is their beacon of hope. With so much hanging in the balance, it would not do for her to display such weakness and vulnerability, even amongst friends. The ragtag bunch is like a house of cards ready to topple down at the slightest imbalance. Perhaps that is why they all choose to shoulder their burdens themselves. Still a trivial reason, Nanaki thinks, but he has some growing up to do of his own, so he can hardly lord this over the others.
.
Many years later, when these human comrades of his have returned to the planet, and only Vincent and he remain, Nanaki asks the stoic gunslinger if perhaps it would have made a difference. Mayhap on just one of those nights, he'd strode to her side and lain his head in her lap, offering no comfort save his silent companionship.
Over the years, the stony man had progressed significantly from the brooding loner of old to a treasured, if not reticent, confidante, but even he does not possess the answers Nanaki seeks. Perhaps no one does.
("Are sins…ever forgiven?"
"…I've never tried.")
Ah, but humans are not the only ones who have to live with their regrets. Nanaki knows this better than most.
A/N: There's not much of a point to this fic, but I liked writing it. Please review and let me know what you think. :)