Disclaimer: Square Enix owns the characters, setting, etc.
Author's Note: I apologize ahead of time if there is a delay in getting the next chapter up. Will do my best.
Aeris did not remember what followed very clearly. She remembered hurling herself at Cloud, swinging at him with the Guard, then, when he took that away from her-- pummeling him with her fists. She remembered Tifa and Vincent pulling her away, and the sting of skinned knees as she fell to the ground, burying her face in her hands.
She remembered the canyon echoing with a keening wail, an animal shriek of despair unrecognizable as her own.
By the time she came to herself, night had fallen. Barrett had a little fire going and Yuffie was roasting something over it. Tifa was with them, rubbing her bare arms, even though it wasn't cold.
Vincent, Nanaki, and Marla were talking together in low tones.
Cid and the airship were gone, as were the bodies of the two men Sephiroth had killed. Cid had probably taken Cloud with him, because the blonde man was nowhere to be seen.
Cait Sith sat a little apart, batting flies away from Sephiroth's face.
The dead man lay on his back, looking heavy and grayish even in the firelight. Someone had folded his hands over his breast, covering the wound and the break in one of his harness straps.
He was at rest.
Planet, I wanted him to find peace. But not like this . . . Never like this . . .
Fresh, hot tears joined the sticky mess drying on her face.
She thought about covering his face with his coat, but found she could not bring herself to part with it while the scent of him still lingered on it. He had given it to her, and she needed some part of him to cling to.
She swallowed a sob, then stiffened abruptly as she overheard what her friends were talking about.
They were discussing what should be done with the body.
"We can hardly give him a hero's burial back in Midgar . . ." Nanaki said. "And I still say the ground is too loose here. Something could dig him up."
"Besides, we should take him through Midgar first." This from Vincent. "We need to prove to his supporters that he is dead."
Tifa made a hissing noise, and said something low and sharp. Aeris lost most of the reprimand, but it was something about "too long in a coffin."
Marla spoke up a moment later, "There's a waterfall not far from here. If Aeris would agree to it, we could put him in the water there-- the lake is deep."
"A pyre," Aeris said, and all of them looked up at her, even Cait. "A pyre. He would have wanted to be burned."
Aeris found him, gods only knew how, in the shadow of the boulder he had crawled behind. At first, she didn't said anything, just sat with him, looking pale in the darkness.
The dirt streaking her tear-stained face accused him.
Why didn't I believe in you, Aeris? Why didn't I believe that you-- your understanding-- could reach anyone, even him?
"I know you're sorry, Cloud," she said finally. "But I'd like to hear it from you, all the same."
"Aeris . . ." He shook his head.
She smiled, sadly. "I know. To say 'sorry' is to try to fix what's between us. I know you, Cloud. I know you'd almost prefer the rift, because it hurts you maybe more than it hurts me. Still . . ."
He sighed. "Aeris . . . If what Vincent says is true, I'm so, so much more than sorry . . . Even when he told me, I didn't believe it. I thought Sephiroth tricked you into feeling something for him. I still want to believe that, maybe because I just don't want to think about-- what I've taken from you."
"I--" she started, then choked. "You didn't know. You didn't know because he didn't want you to know. It wasn't really you that killed him. It was Shinra, and Hojo-- they made him believe he wasn't good enough to be loved." She turned her face away. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject. "We're going to burn him. I'd like it if you came."
She looked like she could use an arm around her, but Cloud really didn't want that arm to be his. To his relief, Tifa came crunching towards them over the dry ground. As soon as the dark-haired girl touched her, Aeris broke down, dissolving into wracking, hiccuping sobs.
Oh, gods. She can't even see how she's driving the knife in deeper.
And suddenly, Cloud saw their situation as she saw it. He was the one who had wronged her, even if inadvertently-- but leaving a break between them hurt her too. The comfort that Aeris wanted right now was the comfort of forgiveness, of mutual acceptance.
Awkwardly, he joined Tifa in embracing her, and he hoped that she saw that he was apologizing not just for hurting her, but for the fact that he could not grieve the madman's death.
Only after they built the makeshift bier did it occur to Cloud that Sephiroth might not burn. His spells, which were so much a part of him as to be nearly part of his flesh, might still protect him, even in death.
But Cloud shook the thoughts away, knowing that if worst came to worst they probably had magic enough between them to take on a dead man.
The funeral, if it could rightly be called such, was short and simple, relying heavily on ceremonies each of them had witnessed. No one had much of their own to add: the usual, funereal compliments would seem like obvious platitudes for Aeris' benefit. And Aeris . . . usually so cheery and open, was all but silent in her grief.
Cloud opted not to say anything other than, "I am so very sorry. So very sorry." And even those words sounded hollow. For a brief instant, he was tempted to add something about Sephiroth never laughing or smiling or getting angry again, but he really never did the first two things anyway, and, since he was angry all the time, the last point was moot, too.
Then he felt guilty. He wished, sincerely, that he could be sorrier for Aeris' sake. But that was the whole problem. He knew that she wanted him to be sorry for Sephiroth's death, but as much as he wanted to comfort her, he wasn't sorry that Sephiroth had died, not really. He was only sorry for hurting her.
By tacit agreement, she was the one chosen to light the bier. Cloud watched her light the stick that was serving as a torch, but she hesitated before touching flame to wood. Instead, she stuck the torch in the ground-- and climbed up next to the body.
He took a step forward, having a sudden, panicked mental vision of her lighting herself. But she only bent down, and kissed the cold, stiff lips, then sat beside the body, and slipped her arms under him. The corpse was heavy with death, but Aeris cradled him anyway, rocking him, smoothing the silver hair.
He was never once held that way in life, Cloud realized.
The image burned into his mind: a pale girl in pink, and a paler man in black, dark shadows flickering over both of them.
It is right that someone cries for him.
And, though he had never expected to, suddenly, his own eyes filled with tears.
Not for Aeris, this time. Not for Sephiroth's death, either. But for his life . . . for all that had been taken from him, for who he might have been.