Disclaimer: Crap, I forgot this.. okay. I don't own Aerith, Vincent, Cloud,
or any of the lovely FFVII characters, though sometimes I do wish I owned
Sephy n.n They belong to Squaresoft, Square Co. Ltd., PlayStation and other
fun people.. so.. don't hurt me ^^;
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The Forgotten City had lain dormant so many years until they had come, and then she had died there, shattering the peaceful calm that had settled over the quiescent city. The City had slept once more after they'd left, renewed in their purpose with vengeance burning in their souls. But one.. he had not forgotten her, and he wanted her back. The lake lay still, white trees keeping watch over the silent waters, never rippling, always concealing that which hid in its depths.
He hadn't asked anyone else; he knew they wouldn't understand. Not him. So he'd borrowed Cid's first plane, the Tiny Bronco, which Cid himself had eventually gotten around to fixing, after marrying Shera. And so he'd flown it alone, back to the City of the Ancients, back to where they'd set her to rest.. set Aerith to rest.
The engine guttered out as he cut it, propellers dying down; silence settled over the sleeping waters once more. Kicking the stairs out, he walked calmly down them, crossing the white sands at the bank to the edge of the lake. A small frown curved at the corners of his mouth, and he kicked off his boots, shedding his cloak simultaneously. He had waited so long for this.. nearly two years.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath, stretching for a moment to work out the kinks from sitting in the tiny cockpit of the Bronco so long. Keeping long-lashed eyes open, he dove into the otherwise still waters of the lake, swimming purposefully downwards, down to the bottom, where he knew she rested. A small, tender smile replaced his frown as he approached, and he soon was close enough to take her lifeless form into his arms. Pushing off the bottom of the lake, he propelled himself back to the surface, shaking his soaked hair out of mysterious eyes once he'd broken the still waters. Trudging back through the shallows, he gently laid Aerith on the sand and dropped to his knees beside her.
His smile remained as he began his work in trying to bring her back to him. Lifestream swirled around his kneeling form, but he paid it no mind, clearly not thinking about anything but his task at hand.. he never questioned why his methods would work now, and why no one had tried it before. She was helping him. Holding out his right hand over her, he cast Cure3 on the wound created by Sephiroth and his Masamune. Upon seeing it close up, something lightened in the man's features; he brightened fractionally. He swiftly cast Life2 on her and immediately summoned Phoenix to revive the alabaster woman. Dark eyes closed in prayer during his summoning.
Aerith was dead. Everyone knew that.. in death, even she knew it. But now, now she stirred. It was a faint movement, to be sure, but she was supposed to be dead; what else could he ask of her? The peaceful if blank expression she wore in death faded as a slight knot knit in her delicate brows. She shifted, caught in the throes of her death, wanting so badly to respond to that alluring call of life, that bright, burning fire she could feel but not quite grasp. She arched all of a sudden off the ground, gasping for breath; it was an awful feeling, to breathe for the first time in two years. The pain hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest, and she fought to regulate her breathing. As her sudden start slowed, she relaxed back to the sands, finding it easier to inhale when she laid flat, stretched out. Green eyes, oh those deep green eyes, she opened them slightly, wincing even as the slight, filtering light hurt her retinas. Everything hurt. A frown creased her brow once more and she started to blink rapidly, as if to clear her eyes; but it was more than that. She wanted to know who it was that leaned over her. The man's figure was blurry, and her head hurt abominably.
He dared not look; he had felt her move, and he had heard her breathe. Opening one eye first, as if that would make it all better if she wasn't alive, he blinked once at seeing her fight to clear her own vision. He gasped softly, so she wouldn't hear, and broke into a smile; something so uncommon on his stoic features!
"Hi, Aerith. Welcome back."
She knew his voice. She knew she knew his voice. As painful as those first few breaths had been, it hurt tenfold to try and sit up. Aerith tried it anyway. She propped herself up slightly, and stared at him with rapidly clearing emerald eyes, peering out from behind auburn bangs plastered to her alabaster features.
"Vincent?"
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Fin: Risen.
A/N: Um, yeah, this is my first posted fic ^^;; Everything else I've written is sort of OOC and AU, not to mention they contain massive crossovers.. so be gentle, please! Flames, constructive criticism, adoration, I'll, y'know, accept it all. anyway. that's it. Laters.
-------
The Forgotten City had lain dormant so many years until they had come, and then she had died there, shattering the peaceful calm that had settled over the quiescent city. The City had slept once more after they'd left, renewed in their purpose with vengeance burning in their souls. But one.. he had not forgotten her, and he wanted her back. The lake lay still, white trees keeping watch over the silent waters, never rippling, always concealing that which hid in its depths.
He hadn't asked anyone else; he knew they wouldn't understand. Not him. So he'd borrowed Cid's first plane, the Tiny Bronco, which Cid himself had eventually gotten around to fixing, after marrying Shera. And so he'd flown it alone, back to the City of the Ancients, back to where they'd set her to rest.. set Aerith to rest.
The engine guttered out as he cut it, propellers dying down; silence settled over the sleeping waters once more. Kicking the stairs out, he walked calmly down them, crossing the white sands at the bank to the edge of the lake. A small frown curved at the corners of his mouth, and he kicked off his boots, shedding his cloak simultaneously. He had waited so long for this.. nearly two years.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath, stretching for a moment to work out the kinks from sitting in the tiny cockpit of the Bronco so long. Keeping long-lashed eyes open, he dove into the otherwise still waters of the lake, swimming purposefully downwards, down to the bottom, where he knew she rested. A small, tender smile replaced his frown as he approached, and he soon was close enough to take her lifeless form into his arms. Pushing off the bottom of the lake, he propelled himself back to the surface, shaking his soaked hair out of mysterious eyes once he'd broken the still waters. Trudging back through the shallows, he gently laid Aerith on the sand and dropped to his knees beside her.
His smile remained as he began his work in trying to bring her back to him. Lifestream swirled around his kneeling form, but he paid it no mind, clearly not thinking about anything but his task at hand.. he never questioned why his methods would work now, and why no one had tried it before. She was helping him. Holding out his right hand over her, he cast Cure3 on the wound created by Sephiroth and his Masamune. Upon seeing it close up, something lightened in the man's features; he brightened fractionally. He swiftly cast Life2 on her and immediately summoned Phoenix to revive the alabaster woman. Dark eyes closed in prayer during his summoning.
Aerith was dead. Everyone knew that.. in death, even she knew it. But now, now she stirred. It was a faint movement, to be sure, but she was supposed to be dead; what else could he ask of her? The peaceful if blank expression she wore in death faded as a slight knot knit in her delicate brows. She shifted, caught in the throes of her death, wanting so badly to respond to that alluring call of life, that bright, burning fire she could feel but not quite grasp. She arched all of a sudden off the ground, gasping for breath; it was an awful feeling, to breathe for the first time in two years. The pain hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest, and she fought to regulate her breathing. As her sudden start slowed, she relaxed back to the sands, finding it easier to inhale when she laid flat, stretched out. Green eyes, oh those deep green eyes, she opened them slightly, wincing even as the slight, filtering light hurt her retinas. Everything hurt. A frown creased her brow once more and she started to blink rapidly, as if to clear her eyes; but it was more than that. She wanted to know who it was that leaned over her. The man's figure was blurry, and her head hurt abominably.
He dared not look; he had felt her move, and he had heard her breathe. Opening one eye first, as if that would make it all better if she wasn't alive, he blinked once at seeing her fight to clear her own vision. He gasped softly, so she wouldn't hear, and broke into a smile; something so uncommon on his stoic features!
"Hi, Aerith. Welcome back."
She knew his voice. She knew she knew his voice. As painful as those first few breaths had been, it hurt tenfold to try and sit up. Aerith tried it anyway. She propped herself up slightly, and stared at him with rapidly clearing emerald eyes, peering out from behind auburn bangs plastered to her alabaster features.
"Vincent?"
---------
Fin: Risen.
A/N: Um, yeah, this is my first posted fic ^^;; Everything else I've written is sort of OOC and AU, not to mention they contain massive crossovers.. so be gentle, please! Flames, constructive criticism, adoration, I'll, y'know, accept it all. anyway. that's it. Laters.