Just A Couple of Pigeons
by Thyme In Her Eyes – ariadne@btopenworld.com
Author's Note: My Aeris/Reeve is finally here! Saints be praised; it's taken me forever to get round to writing this! This is going to be a fanfic of the multi-chapter variety, despite the fact that I'm the world's slowest updater. This story is the spawn of my far milder Reeve/Aeris attempt, 'The Cetra and the Oracle'. I'd suggest reading that before getting to this, because some things I mentioned in that 'fic crop up again here (also, this again, is told from Reeve's perspective). A lot of stuff may not make complete sense otherwise. Okay, now on to the technical bits: first of all, I own nothing. Second, the events of this story take place roughly a year prior to the game. This means that Aeris is to be resurrected. I know some of you guys out there hate the idea, but trust me with this, please. There's a reason for her to be back other than "Planet in Danger!" and/or for the sake of her love life. Miracles can happen and when they do, they happen for a reason. That's where my starting-point is. Anyway, my thanks go out to Kitt (btw: I think the e-mails got screwed up again!) and Lirillith, who helped me spin some ideas for this. Also, feedback makes me work faster...hint hint... Enjoy! :)
How's my characterisation?
-- JUST A COUPLE OF PIGEONS --
1. Postscript
I'm smiling as I write this. Funnily enough, I still don't know why I'm doing this. But this time, things are different (they usually are). This time round, it isn't because there's too few reasons to hand – this time, there are so many reasons for doing this, for taking to the pen one more time. I'm just having trouble picking a specific one. Or maybe once you get bitten by the writing bug once, you just can't stop. Incidentally, I don't think that I'm not the only one of us who's been writing: I've clapped eyes on a collection of published poems recently and I swear that it's Elena writing under a pseudonym. If I'm right, then good for her. We're all getting by the best way we can.
A lot's happened to the world and me since the memoir got published, just a few months ago (I'm still shocked at how quickly I managed to pump that out). It was easier than I thought to get it published, since the publishing houses were raking it in with all the memoirs (with few means of powering TV's, the newspapers have done fiendishly well for themselves too). I was stuck for any sort of title, so the publishers named it for me – Confessions of a Shinra Executive, Fortune-Teller and Hero. Yeah, it's long and it's painful. But I like how they threw in the fortune-teller bit.
There was a bit of trouble with it at some points, a few bad decisions I made when writing. For example, I considered changing everyone's names for this, but I knew that the names and basic histories of members of Avalanche had been made public by Shinra already. So there was no way of keeping everyone's identities hidden, which was a shame. I didn't intend to dig into the private lives of my friends and make them public. They forgave me though, even though Tifa ended up deciding to change her name, which I still feel bad about.
It's good that I'm writing this, but a lot of people are gonna be disappointed that I have no plans to publish (this one isn't the kind you publish as fact, trust me). After publishing, I got a lot of letters (even though not very many people brought books often, the economy was that bad) asking me to tell them more about my friends, about what happened next, what they did with their lives. Some of them like the fame – Barret uses it to try and draw in enthusiasts to bring back coal-energy. But then, some of them could do without an army of fanatics invading their lives. I should know; I've had to put up with it myself from time to time.
With this one, I'm being honest without hurting anyone, in any way. And this is where it's made known where everyone ended up. Some of them you would never believe. Trust me on this one.
And have I changed? I'm not entirely sure. A little. I sure haven't stayed the same. Hell, everything's changed. During the final hours, when Meteor was about to hit, heaven and earth changed places again and again. The person you were before the Meteor Crisis is not the person you are after, at least in all the people I've known. And I've known a lot of people; normal and exceptional.
The first thing I changed about my life after the Meteor Crisis, before writing a memoir, and before trying to push civilization back on its feet, was that I became a vegetarian. It's perhaps the wrong time for such a change of lifestyle; without any power for cold storage, a lot of people have had to take to hunting for food, some have had to. These days, you usually have to eat what you can or go hungry (things will get better). But I'm doing well the way I am. I don't know what brought that one about – I can't honestly say that it's to do with the Planet and all the things we saw in the Crater, because I wasn't there in the flesh, so to speak, and all the others who were haven't made a similar lifestyle change. So it's not about nature or spiritualism exactly (I've learned a lot on a spiritual level these past few months, so trust my word on this). I'd be lying if I said I was doing it for a moral reason too, like as a way of making up for being a part of Shinra. So I'm not quite sure how it came about. All I know is that as soon as it was all over, I couldn't bring myself to eat meat anymore.
I don't know why I'm giving all these tiny details so much attention, but it feels right. They build up a complete picture of who I am, I guess. It feels like they're too important to leave out. Besides, it's not as if anyone's going to be reading this anytime soon. Maybe that's the real reason for this – to have something that gives no advice, no handy warnings but that can slowly tell me things I'd forgotten, or hidden from myself.
So, why am I writing this? Another memoir, maybe? No, definitely not. I'm still being chased by aspiring companies who want the movie rights for that story, a story that wasn't even mine, not really. They just can't understand the meaning of the word No, it seems. This one is just for me. Back then, I had so much that I needed to say, so much that I needed to share – there was so much I believed that everyone on the Planet deserved a chance to know. The world hasn't ended, and I always thought that it was important that people understood why. Not that I softened towards Avalanche in some parts, due to the terrorism, but I've learned to accept things and let go a bit. Move on, because life goes on. Writing the memoir helped with that, so have...recent events.
This account is different, though. The experiences here are different. And definitely more private. I don't know what I'm going to do with this one. It won't be published but I don't think it's right to destroy it either. Maybe I'll show it to some of my friends, I can't say. Before, I knew that I was ready to free all those memories and secrets. This time, I don't think I'm ready yet (she'd want me to emphasise the yet here and since this is half hers in a way, she gets some artistic imput). I wish – no, that's wrong. But I won't scribble it out. I hope that I'll be ready some day. She believes I will.
I've never been religious, not exactly. I've never followed any particular God or practised religion, or gone to religious services since I was a kid. But I think I believed in something, even though I never really knew what that something was. I've always – like a lot of folk – had what you might call a faith of sorts. Something that's always been there and strong in its own way but intangible and formless, something I turned to in the blacker moments. I pray every now and then. I prayed when Meteor approached, in those final few minutes before Lifestream saved us, when we all though the end was here. I prayed and I hoped, I hoped with this crazy little hope that wasn't really blind hope until I thought all hope was gone.
But I guess we all owe our lives to that thing we call Hope. Not only because of the hope Aeris had in us, or Avalanche's hope that we could succeed against Sephiroth, but because the Planet had hope for humanity, in the end and allowed us to live.
And now, when it comes to religion and spirituality...well, I've changed in that respect. And for that, I'm much more free than I ever was before. I believe. I can't completely describe what it is I believe in, what I've learned, at least not now. I hope I can paint a picture with these words over time and whoever maybe reads this can understand how I came to understand these things, how I came to understand humans a little better too. Of course, I had help. I had help from someone very important to me. I had a teacher; a teacher who was a student herself, in a way. But I know that I believe in miracles now, even if I can't fully understand them. I'm just grateful for them.
I know, I know – I can't say that I know all the great mysteries out there but I know more than I did and that's a good thing. The rest, the stuff I don't know, well I have faith in them. Let's just say I learned enough to look for the answers (religion, God, the Promised Land, whatever your preferred term is), but not enough to fully find them. I have myself for the rest, and I know that I'm not alone.
With the first memoir, I already said everything that I needed to say; I managed to unburden myself of all the secrets that troubled me back then. This is different, special. The secrets here are the ones that are going to stay hidden. Ironically maybe, they're the sort that really shouldn't stay hidden, but that's the way it has to be – for now, at least. They're not my secrets; it's not my place to tell them. But the answers are here, all around us. Maybe all I can give is enough to get you searching, but not enough to find whatever it is you're looking for. It's the best I can do, I guess.
I know that I'm being vague here, deliberately mysterious. I must have picked that up from her. She's the reason – the big reason for all of this. I mean, she was before, but in a more abstract way. I've said it before and I'll say it again – she's the reason we're all here, carrying on with living, after all. But her influence this time around was more direct, you could say. Maybe a little more inspirational. I'll have to tell you more about her later, then you'll understand.
As you can see, I haven't gotten any better at mastering the art of continuity and keeping digressions down to a minimum. Oh what a pity.
So, where am I now? Here's another tiny difference between this and the memoir – it was mostly written in the after hours with me, alone in my home (of sorts), on my desk. This, on the other hand, was written somewhere completely different. And I'm not alone, either. I'm actually in very good company.
I'm not in my home, not at my desk (I swear, I've spent far too much of my life surrounded by those things, I know I'm going to start dreaming about offices, computer keyboards and coffee breaks if I carry on like this). I'm actually in a ruined church in the ruins of Midgar. You know which one.
I don't usually come here. Whenever I remembered Aeris, it was when I was doing day-to-day things, I could never really make myself go and visit her church. There's something too formal to it, I'd feel too awkward, even if it was just me and the ghosts. I know that Cloud and Tifa come here often. They never come here together though, from what they've told me: Cloud always stops by at one time, Tifa another. This is a thing they both do individually, privately and not as a couple. I guess that maybe they find something wrong about that. I think that it's because Aeris meant something different, something special to both of them respectively and it's something they can't share. And I don't think that it's a bad thing. Aeris would be really touched if she knew.
I'm here for something of a special occasion (you'll learn more later). It's so quiet here in Midgar, nothing like it was before Meteor. After the Crisis, everyone fled and it was impossible to rebuild; it was ruined and inhospitable after what Meteor did to it. So it was just left as it was, abandoned while people picked up the pieces of their lives elsewhere. Now it's left a it is, kinda like some sort of symbol of what we were, what man can fall to and the Planet's gift to us of a second chance. I think these ruins mean something different to everyone, deep down. You can still see people visiting, usually in remembrance of loved ones that didn't survive. Some even wander inside the ruins (the structure is still very, very good despite the worst), but most linger outside, watching it from the surrounding hills, out of reverence, I think.
Today, I'm inside these ruins. I'm inside an old church, her church, sitting on an old pew, writing away in a journal my mother gave me for a birthday (can't remember which one), that I never used. It's funny, but I think that this decrepit old church has fared the best during Meteor. It's far more intact than anything else I've seen around me here. And the flowers are flourishing beautifully. All the yellows... It's really something. Nature's starting to take back this city that mankind left – plantlife is beginning to creep over the ruined slums. I like to think that maybe it all started here, in this little church.
Troughs of sunlight angle into the church in green and pink and blue bolts, through the stained glass windows. The sun shines gown golden from the wrecked roof. I can smell traces of linseed oil, hard soap, incense and tallow. And the scent of flowers, everywhere. Everything is so calm here, so peaceful. It's like another world, or some sort of dream. It's almost what I'd call magical. Especially for a place that'd always been so close to me. I didn't think the world could be so quiet, or so colourful. A second ago I just heard the jostling of a couple of pigeons in the rafters above.
She's right in front of me, kneeling in front of the flowers, beaming. It's like she's been reunited with old friends again. You should see her. She looks so completely in her own element. In other words, she looks amazing. I feel really happy right now. I'm starting with a real good memory, as always.
Maybe this isn't right. It's a beautiful, perfect moment but this isn't the way I want to tell this story. I'm telling stuff that doesn't make sense at this juncture, without any of the backstory, without the elements that built this up. I'm getting ahead of myself, starting at the end again and I don't want that. Well, this isn't the end of the story either. There's more to tell after this, after here, I know it. But this is an important point – but I know I shouldn't start here. I want to tell it from the start, to begin from the beginning, from where I was when this all took place. I'm going to have to tell this story properly. Right now.
I suppose I better work some sort of beginning into this somewhere, find some kind of good starting-point. I've got a lot to say, so I better say it well. Alright, here goes nothing...
I better give you a fore-warning though, O Reader Unknown To Me. This involves me, the Planet, civilization, and the last Cetra. This tale is also quite a happy home for hope and faith.
It's a love story, too.
