*Author's Note*: This was just a little idea that sparked into my mind while trying to come up with ideas for the next chappy of In Cold Blood. This delves into the possibility that Sephiroth did not immediately die after his final battle with Cloud. This is assuming that the red explosion' of energy was not Sephiroth's death itself, but instead was his body cleansing itself of Jenova.
Enjoy, and please review!
Dearest
An AeriSeph vignette
--*--*--
In such times,
I see you laughing
Whenever I close my eyes.
Until the day I reach eternal sleep,
That smiling face will
Have to stay with me without fail.
(Hamasaki Ayumi)
--*--*--
Stumbling. Not walking, nodefinitely not, for he was too weak, and his wounds were taking a fatal toll on his ravaged body. He was free now. Jenova was vanquished, and once Strife and his crowd had left, Sephiroth was left behind, bloody and broken, and quite confused as well. In fact, he had barely made it out of that crater before it collapsed on and in itself.
The snowy ground was a challenge for a healthy body to trek across, but it was near impossible for a dying man to tread, no matter how strong he had once been. Sephiroth winced with every step, clutching his bleeding shoulder with an equally bloody hand. He hadn't much time before this old body gave into its inevitable mortality. But there was something he had to do before the time came.
No matter how long it would take him, he must complete this last and final mission. He must finish his dying journey to his eternal resting place.
The Forgotten City of the Cetra.
Lord knows how long he was stumbling across the icy terrain. Who knows how he passed through the Great Glacier in one piece. Perhaps he was being guided by fate, to prevent an undignified death to end an even less dignified life.
Did anything in the past matter? Jenova was gone now, and the world was at peace. But where did that leave Sephiroth? Even if he were to live, he would be feared, hated, and eventually murdered, because the world would blame him for the Meteor. Ah, the irony.
For he was equally a victim of Jenova's greed and hatred for the Planet.
Alas, Sephiroth knew he would not survive to see the results of Jenova's death. He had been used and thrown away, and now he would die helpless and without honor. And to think once in his life, before Jenova had poisoned his mind, he was a great man. He was a hero' of sorts, looked upon as the ultimatum of all that was great: strength, grace and beauty. He was showered with admiration and attention; though he was at the core a very antisocial person and preferred no attention at all. Such was the irony that Jenova would cause the tables to turn on him so severely.
Sephiroth stopped, regaining his senses and realizing his surroundings. He was here, in the Forgotten City. He had made it, and now he would complete his final mission. Slowly, with pain crushing his body with every step, Sephiroth made his way to the ethereal lake in the center of the city, where the body of the last Cetra slain was laid to rest for eternity.
Ah, Aerith. He remembered her, in the days before fate drew the line between them. They had grown up together in the ShinRa laboratories, as two test rats for Hojo. In fact, Sephiroth had been the one to help Aerith and her mother, Ifalna escape the labs to the slums of Midgar. Even though he suffered many excruciating beatings from Hojo for this, he never regretted it a moment, for the eight year old Aerith had looked upon him with eyes so bright, eyes so loving and hopeful that just remembering those eyes would make it all worthwhile.
Those eyes those very same eyes that haunted his dreams. He had seen Aerith on many an occasion after that, yet she did not recognize him and he did not dare to talk to her. He wouldn't cause any risk of capture to befall his Cetran angel, and he suppressed the urge to run to her and hold her tightly in his arms, forever to feel her soft lips press upon his in a testament of love and trust
Ah, but he would never be worthy of that.
Sephiroth sighed, falling to his knees on the shore before the crystal waters. He had indeed loved her. A childhood crush that developed into a lover's desire, a true love that could never be doused. Even after Jenova took control of his mind and body, that love had remained, and when Jenova had killed her that fateful day, deep inside himself Sephiroth had cried. The strongest and deadliest man alive had cried upon the death of his beloved.
His biggest regret was that he could never know what it was like to love her; any chance of living a life with her was gone forever, thanks to Jenova. Slowly, Sephiroth crawled to the lake, blood draining from his wounds mercilessly; he was so weak now, he knew his end was near.
Blood rose in his throat as he attempted to speak, and he bowed his head down and vomited blood on the sandy shore, sore and stiff muscles jerking and causing the blood flow to increase, speeding up his slow dying process.
He couldn't take it. His entire life had been one long pain trip, and now, here, it would finally end.
I am sorry. Forgive me, my angel and give me the honor, of resting beside you Sephiroth pulled himself closer and closer, into the cold waters of the lake, coming to stop at the edge of a cliff. Beyond this point the water depths were seemingly bottomless. Crimson blood tainted the crystal pure waters of this lake, dripping from his every limb, spilling from his nose and mouth.
He prepared himself. love you. Sephiroth used the last bit of strength in him to push himself over the edge, sinking into the water, too weak and unwilling to save himself. He wanted this. He gasped in breaths of water to speed up the painful drowning he was experiencing. He felt himself begin to lose it. Before his soul departed his body, he came to land at the bottom of the lake, beside his angel's corpse. Lying on his back, lungs filled with water and body too weak to live, he smiled, before closing his eyes.
He was grateful, because he saw his beloved before he died.
--*--*--
Green, endless green all around him. There was no more pain. He heard a faint humming the Planet's voice, he presumed. He must be en route to the Promised Land hopefully. He sighed, smiling and allowing his soul to flow within the Lifestream, when suddenly, he felt warmth all around him, as a white light enveloped all that he saw.
When he awoke, he was lying in a bed of flowers and grass, soft to the touch and swaying gently in the breeze. He felt warmth again, and was aware of a silky hand brushing through his hair, the other cupping his face.
His eyes came into focus, and he looked up, straight into a pair of loving emerald eyes, framed by a fair face and chestnut hair. His angel.
Welcome to heaven, Sephiroth.
His Aerith.
This was Sephiroth's Promised Land. After years of torment and manipulation, he was finally at peace with his beloved.
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