The days passed slowly for Aerith, blending together with routine, Aerith even questioned the days and weeks. Eventually things drew back into a sense of normal which was something that she had surprisingly missed. With no SOLDIERS to fall through the remains of her poor church roof she carried on without much thought of guests, minus the Turk who had deliberately made his presence known a few times.

Zack was gone now too, he had told her he was leaving for Nibelheim; there could no longer be any doubt in her mind that he was indeed chasing Genesis. She never said anything though, the pained expression that had crossed her face for the briefest of seconds was chalked up to Zack's leave.

The day he left Aerith had pushed a wish list into his calloused palm and promised to write. She wanted to spend more time with Zack, to see the sky with him, to sell flowers with him – but as friends. On her trek home from the train station the girl had been hit with a tremendous wall of guilt. She would write to Zack but what of her other warrior friend? She'd write to him too, even if she had no where to send them, even if he'd never read them.

Tonight she sat on her bed with a worn pink notepad, it had cost her a week's allowance as writing utensils were always so expensive in the Slums. She dated the letter and signed her name on the bottom like her mother had taught her. Her letter to Zack was short and sweet, as always the words between them flowed easy and comfortable. Genesis was a task on the other hand, she didn't know what to say, she talked about the flowers before feeling redundant and tearing the page – he wouldn't want to know about her stupid flowers. Instead her letter became a note, it read simply.

"How are you? I hope you're okay."

Satisfied, the girl folded it up neatly and placed it by the windowsill drifting into an easy sleep.

OOOO

Nibelheim was a cold desolate place, Genesis realized that he had arrived several days ahead of Sephiroth. Agitated and angry with their delay, he had made a shelter of sorts out of the mako reactor stationed in the area. It was damp, cold, and dark and he absolutely hated it. During the daytime he scavenged the mountainside for any source of food or substance, his efforts had all be fruitless as Nibelheim was a wasteland of ice. What could possible grow through such harsh treatment? Raiding the village at night was out of the question, the town was small and someone was sure to notice. The last thing he wanted was for someone to tip off Sephiroth or Zack to any strange sightings.

Growling darkly under his breath Genesis took a seat in the knee-high snow, the degradation was almost in its final stages, his strength and drive were fading more and more each day. Toiling through the mountain had taken a lot out of the former first class. Ice blue eyes surveyed the land before him, white and grey for miles around it was almost blinding really. Yet there in the distance a splash of yellow caught his gaze. Rising to his feet on full alert, the man waited for it to move, curious when it did not Genesis decided to draw in closer.

Three feet ahead of him and looking rather displaced in all the snow, was a pale yellow flower. He almost gasped with surprise, what could grow with such harsh treatment indeed? He had heard of snowlilies and of winter flowers but they had all been monstrous ugly things, suited and bred to withstand all kinds of cold. The plant that grew before him was a beautiful thing, fragile looking and small. Genesis bent to pick the flower from its hold but decided better, such a rarity amongst the ice should remain there without his disturbance, it would only die if he took it with him anyhow.

Heading back to the frozen reactor Genesis contemplated on the tiny flower, painfully reminded of someone innocent who had grown in such foul conditions. Despite his harsh treatment of her she had still managed to bloom. He cursed his thoughts for straying to Aerith, he wanted to see her again a little too much perhaps.

The dim glow of mako surrounded the ramshackle room he called home, he could fly back to Midgar in one night and he certainly had time before Sephiroth would arrive. However, inner logic had won in the end. The degradation was severe and he was already very weak, what would normally take a day could take more. Sighing, Genesis shivered against the cold and managed to fall into an exhausted half sleep.

OOOO

The letters had become an obsession for Aerith, she no longer spent her days in the church. Immediately after tending to her flowers she'd walk home with a renewed gait as a Turk followed her with increasing suspicion, she'd sit in her room with pen to paper and fervor in her green eyes.

Over time her notes to Genesis had turned to letters, the words had begun to flow faster and true, her letters to Zack were shorter in turn and less detailed. She'd write and tell Genesis of Midgar and Shinra, Midgar was his home right? He must miss some parts of it. Then she'd talk about herself, how she wasn't afraid of the Turks anymore even with their sudden increase in surveillance, how Zack was gone and also in Nibelheim, how her flowers seemed to shine in the artificial light. Anything and everything and all so completely random, nonetheless she had acquired a collection of unsent and unread letters with no address, all of them sitting on the ledge of her window. It was a comforting sight for her, her last image before sleep was always a stack of letters.

Morning light pierced the dark of her room, Aerith yawned sleepily and stretched misused limbs, her eyes wandered to the pile of paper by the window – a force of habit more than thought really. To her horror they weren't there. Darting from her bed she searched the floor, hoping that the stack had simply fallen down in the night, but there were no papers in sight.

Fresh hot tears welled in her eyes, hands feeling the empty mantlepiece, this was impossible where and how could they have moved? The tip of something downy and soft touched her finger pad. Emerald eyes bright with tears moved to find the offending object, she held up one lone black feather and felt a gasp of surprise leave her lungs. Somehow, pigeons aside, the feather hadn't come from any bird she knew of for it was far too big.

Pain turning to confusion, she moved to the bedroom window that she always kept closed. The flowerbed wasn't the only thing to greet her, flapping softly with the dry breeze was a piece of paper. At first she thought it might have been one of hers, however the handwriting was much too fine to be her messy work. Desperately she opened the latch and caught the loose scrap before it flew from reach, turning it over madly in her hands.

"Even if the morrow is barren of promises

Nothing shall forestalls my return,

To become the dew that quenches the land,

To spare the sands, the seas, the skies,

I offer thee this silent sacrifice."

Aerith held the paper to her chest, feeling the tears fall for a completely new reason.