Chapter 4

The sky had been gloomy again that day, two weeks after she'd visited Sephiroth. She felt isolated, cut off... alone, all because of her secret. Something she dared not tell anyone, for fear of it getting back to Cloud and the others. She didn't want them to know. She didn't want to ruin their lives with showing up from the dead. The only one who could ever understand what she was going through was Sephiroth- yet he hated her, she was sure.

She'd seen the look on his face when she'd asked him. Even if he'd covered it quickly. Aerith remembered how his eyes had narrowed, how his lips had twitched towards a snarl. Yet he was the only one who could possibly provide any sort of company.

It was sunset, and though Aerith hadn't gotten much business that day, she decided to leave her post and go visit him. The 'dwelling' was just as she remembered it from the outside, its interior a dark cavern of blackness that reminded Aerith of her own guilt, and what lie within that guilt was him... She hesitated outside the opening, but finally reached in to turn on the lantern that was set near the entrance.

He was there. Laying on his side, back toward the door with all the blankets kicked off. Aerith saw his back stiffen as the light came on. She bit her lower lip and took a breath. Finally she spoke. "Sephiroth..."

"Go away."

His voice would have sent shivers down her back, if it hadn't had that soft quaver in it. She'd heard it. "I- I'm sorry," she said, still standing where she was, though she bowed her head briefly, but then looked back at him. He hadn't moved much, just breathing. He made no reply to her apology, so she continued. "I just wanted some company... I thought that you-"

"So. My company is better than nothing. I should be flattered, shouldn't I?" he stated bitterly. He slowly sat up, holding his right arm against his chest while in his left hand a sharp dagger gleamed.

Aerith clasped her hands near her chest, afraid of what he planned to do with that knife, yet she saw that he had not turned to face her. Slowly, she crept forward. "Yes... it is. Sephiroth... you and I- we can't talk about what happened with anyone. No one would believe us. The others... they'd find out... and things would happen all over again." He didn't reply once more. She forged on. "You're the only one that I can talk to. I - I feel so alone!"

He gave a snort and slowly lowered himself back down onto the mattress. "I'm not going to be good company, you should know. I never got much practice using social skills."

His answer encouraged her, even if he hadn't quite said she could stay. She came closer, finally perching on the edge of his mattress and taking off her shoes, leaving her basket beside them. "What were you doing... when I came in?"

"Releasing pain," he stated and she leaned over his shoulder to look at him. His arm was covered in scratches, some bleeding lightly. She reached out, touching his left hand, which still held the knife, slowly taking it from his limp fingers and setting it aside.

"It doesn't help, does it?" she asked him.

"Sometimes," he stated, sounding emotionless.

She remained silent, watching his face, his eyes glittering in the dim light that reached their side of the cavern.

"Not really," he said.

Aerith thought of apologizing again, but it was pointless, he wouldn't accept her apology, he was too busy blaming himself for everything. Slowly, she reached out her hand, touching his hair and smoothing it back from his face, her fingers brushing his ear. "Sephiroth..." she said softly, "I forgive you."

A tension she'd felt in her gut eased finally, a tightness she hadn't realized had been there for the entire time she'd been alive again. She felt better. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder and felt his body trembling beneath her fingers. On a sudden whim, Aerith leaned down, slid her arm around his chest and rested her face on his shoulder. "No one's ever hugged you before..." she said softly, it was obvious. His body had stiffened under her touch, yet she could still feel his trembling. She didn't see him squeeze his eyes shut to hold back his tears.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked softly. He didn't answer her verbally. He couldn't. Instead, she felt his right hand move out from under her arm and clasp her wrist in a firm yet gentle and nervous grip. Sephiroth's hand slid down from her wrist, finally to her small and delicate hand, something he'd never thought he'd touch for such a reason.

Aerith buried her face in the threadbare fabric of his torn shirt, her tears flowing free. "Thank you," she choked out. "I think... now we both can get over what happened."