The Ghost
a v a r i e l
*
Quietly, she opened the door and winced when it made a slight squeak as it pushed open. The whole of the room began to show, bit by bit, and suddenly the innocent image of a boy on a bed lay before her. She tilted to her head to the side in wonder as she caught a better glimpse of his eyes that shined a dazed periwinkle. Those forlorn orbs looked outside the open window, small curtains billowing in the wind. She followed his gaze to the outside world and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Wutai was currently under attack by troops of Midgar. The Shinra Seal - imprinted on a red flag - waved in the distance as a burst of light and orange sparks blew up in the forests and mountains. She looked down and berated herself by stomping on her own foot as if it would console her. She no idea it would only bring her physical pain.
She was supposed to be out there, not in here.
"You." He accused with a mild angered tone. "What are you doing here?"
The eleven-year-old widened her eyes in shock, now paralyzed due to the shock of her lifetime: she had been caught.
He narrowed his eyes as a playing grin tugged at his lips. "A little lost, are we?"
"No." She replied meekly, highly aware of how high her voice had become.
Her violet-burned eyes peeked at his, which shimmered a mysterious color as if the touch of blue had dispersed, leaving nothing but a gray - or was it green? - color. She blinked at this and gathered the courage to step fully into the room and closing the door behind her. All she received was a choked growl and a glare, knowing full well his antagonism was directed at her.
"Well, if you don't know what your purpose is here, get lost." He sniffed and looked back out the window.
His hands curled into fists as he remembered what got him in here in the first place. He scoffed. He had every right to be out there. He was training for the Turks and Turks stood by each other. Rude was out there, fighting for his life. Tseng was out there, directing the military troops to fight here or there. Why was he isolated from a battle he knew he could be a great help? He rolled his eyes. The answer? That very much favored line, "Because you're too young."
"This is bullshit." He spat and took no notice of the girl who had eased herself onto his bed, the bed he was confined in until the battle was won.
"You said a bad word..." She pointed out before pursing her lips.
"What's it to ya, brat?"
She shrugged. "I was taught that those are bad words."
"Daddy's little princess, are you?" He leered. "Get lost you little twerp before I kick you out of here myself!"
He gawked at her when she ignored his threat, totally oblivious to what he could - should - do to her.
"Why are you so mean?"
He looked at her oddly, as if she had suddenly grown two heads. He was mean? Was that why adults looked down upon him, that children refused to play with him, that he was taken into Turks because he didn't belong?
He shook his head. This girl was being more of a pest than he was at his terrible twos.
"Me being mean has nothing to do with the fact that you're bothering a man in deep thought here." He scrunched his face as he realized what he just said. Why that thought had even occurred to him, he didn't know.
"My papa's a man. You don't look it. You look fourteen." She observed innocently, not knowing it had insulted him somewhat.
"Fifteen," he corrected.
"Oh." She paused. "Mama said you'd be here. She said I should bring you-
"Your mother?" He asked, incredulous now. "Please, little girl. At the rate this battle's going, your mom is probably already dead and gone. How you managed to escape your screwed-up life out there is beyond me. You're lucky if you survive."
"I will." She nodded. "I'm strong. Mama says I am. She says I'll live and that's what I'm doing."
"Tch. Don't you even care what happens to your mom? You make it sound as if you care only for yourself." He glared at her. "Does family mean anything to you?"
"You're not my daughter! You're just a brat!"
She shook her head.
"And why the hell not?"
"I don't have one."
He sighed. "It doesn't matter if you don't have a family of kin. What matters is that you have one. Wutai's your family. I can tell you're from up here, what with all your little accent every time you speak and how strict you are with the customs you grew up with. Blood is just blood. Family is family."
"I won't have one by the time everyone's finished."
He noted that she had been expressionless this whole time, not even the least bit sad that her family was under siege. There was nothing. He smirked. It almost reminded him of him. Almost.
"Anyway," she began, "Mama told me to bring these to you. She said a boy would be here and he needed cheering up."
From behind her back, she produced a bouquet of flowers made of glass wrapped in cellophane wrapper. She held out her arms to give it to him but he only stared at it.
"Your mom said ... what?"
"You needed cheering up."
She stared at him, waiting for a response and, when it did come, it wasn't unexpected.
"Well, I don't want it."
The little girl shrugged and hopped off his bed, carefully handling the delicate flowers. He watched her retreating form, as she paid no heed to his presence, as if she had only been talking to a ghost. He leaned back on the pillow and a sadistic grin played his features.
"A ghost," he whispered. "That's what I am."
A shatter filled his senses and he shot upright to see that one of the flowers she had brought in slipped from its casing. There was nothing left but colorfully tinted glass at the floor, broken. Just a part of what had previously been whole.
Just like him.
She walked through the already barren woods, dodging tree stumps and carefully aware that a bomb could blow in her face any second. So, her pace was rushed as she sped up to a river with a bridge connecting the land on either end. She ran across the wooden helper crawled into yet another forest, safe from the attacks of fire as it was hidden behind a large boulder. From here, she walked slowly as if running fast would only wake the spirits that inhabited the sleeping oaks.
Upon reaching the center, there lay a gray and worn-out tombstone. It was cracked and bits and pieces were chipped off. The wilting flowers were bent over, showing that this grave was better off gone without remembrance. The little girl kneeled down before it and lay the flowers down in front of her. She patted the soil down a little before settling herself down and crossing her legs.
"I tried, Mama. I really did. You know, I learned something. People... people like him are better off on their own. They don't want sympathy. They don't want anything except to live. I saw it in his eyes, Mama. When he was looking outside his window, I saw it. He doesn't hide his emotions that well. He tries but he can't. I could feel the hurt in his voice. And I did try to give him the roses. I really did. But... flowers are just flowers. They don't heal.
"People like him... they need love, family... everything I don't have." She sniffled.
She lay down on her side next to the grave and listened to the world around her.
"Please stop, please stop, please stop..." She chanted softly, imagining that if she said it a thousand times the battle would cease.
She wasn't aware of the tear that escaped her eye or was she aware of the gentle lips that kissed them away. A ghostly hand caressed her cheek and suddenly, she was at peace.
Her eyes closed and she slept a dreamless sleep.
No more ghosts would haunt her.
*
Author's Note: Eek! Icky one shot. I was listening to the midi of Enya's Watermark and... it was good. It made me feel inspired but this turned out to be somewhat... I don't know. Forget it. But watermark made this fic become sickeningly sad and melancholic that I just want to go to sleep and die. Sigh. Anyways, the two characters are obvious and I just felt like doing an AU of this and that, little tid bits here and there. I'm just hoping it didn't turn out that bad. Wrote this on a whim so you can see that everything probably moved pretty fast. Darn it all. Uhm ... oh yeah: Happy New Years everybody!
dedicated to reno/yuffie fans
childishly sweet, i say!