Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all names, characters, and related indicia are property of Square-Enix.
a mother's love
It's what matters to her most of all, the science, the passion. Cold and metallic and needles and cells and god Simon don't not the boy, not my baby. Her baby. Not a baby anymore, but eight years old and cold and dark and terrible. She knows what he'll grow up to be and it hurts. When he looks at her, he sees nothing but another scientist, another person poking and prodding, and he hates her. She knows, and feels the coldness closing around her, killing her. Jenova is rising within him, she can feel it. She's too weak to fight Jenova, seductive and beautiful, crooning lullabies to her son while she sleeps next to a man who thinks of her as a test tube. She hates Jenova, and Simon, but she hates herself, most of all. She remembers Vincent and tries not to cry. It's her fault anyway, her fault. She gave her child up to science, to Jenova, an offering for a fallen Queen. Jenova twists inside her skin, uncomfortable. Her Majesty does not like this pretty, brown-haired woman.
"Her Majesty can burn in Hell," Lucrecia murmurs.
Ilfalna is beautiful, and she knows it, but she never draws attention to it. She gives Lucrecia an even, cool glance from her glass cage. Another queen to deal with. Her child moves in her arms sleepily. Two sets of green eyes stare at her questioningly. She thinks of her son and winces.
"You're working on me again?" Ilfalna asks, giving Lucrecia a calm, level glance. You weak, pathetic woman, that glance is saying. So many things can be said without words.
"Yes," Lucrecia responds. "You'll have to set Aerith down, I'm afraid." She pauses. "I can hold her for you while you get ready."
Ilfalna stares at the bundle swathed in pink in her arms, then at the woman in front of her, beseeching. She waves a royal hand, granting permission. A queen without a crown of flowers. "Alright."
Lucrecia takes the squirming child in her arms, stares into bright, Lifestream green. Not Mako, this isn't Mako, but natural life and birth, and she smiles. The child gurgles, and then whimpers, moving impatiently. Ilfalna is unfastening her dress and tsks when she sees the scientist's awkward hold on the baby.
"You've never held a child before, have you?" Lucrecia's eyes glaze over, she feels the familiar twist of pain and guilt, like a knife, going deeper and deeper.
"No," she manages. Ilfalna cocks her head to one side and sighs.
"You hold her like this." Ilfalna laces delicate arms around Lucrecia's waist, adjusts the child in her arms. Her hair smells clean, like morning dew and flowers. Lucrecia has never felt anything so natural, so real. The child settles in her arms and coos. Aerith. I Earth. She is Earth, like her mother, and the others before them. She grazes her fingers across the tuft of soft brown hair on top of the child's head and smiles, weakly.
"She's a beautiful child," Lucrecia whispers. "She's so pretty. You're lucky to have her."
Something odd happens then. Ilfalna stiffens, pulls the child away. "I am," she says, and then she utters words Lucrecia never wants to hear, from anyone, "She won't end up like yours."
It is like a physical blow, a pain that wraps so tightly she can't think, can't breathe, she can only feel. They are spoken so calmly, so matter-of-fact, and Lucrecia gasps, steps away. She holds her chest and tries not to sob. She cannot cry in front of this woman, she will not. She will not. Ilfalna continues, ignoring her whimpers. The child is silent, head inclined to listen, like a good Princess.
"Why would you let him...?"
Lucrecia asks herself this question every day, of every month, of every year. Why would she? How could she? She gave Sephiroth a toy bear for his fifth birthday, and he stared at it blankly with those damnable eyes before setting it to the side. Thank you for the toy, he had said, but could she hurry up and give him his shots? He wanted to get it over with and today was his birthday. Professor Hojo said he was going to let him outside to play for an hour. She understood, didn't she? You're nicer than the others, you understand, don't you?
"I don't know," she admits. She feels the burning pain of a sob inching its way up her throat, and swallows hard. "I don't know. I ask myself every day. I don't know."
Ilfalna is quiet, as is the child, and Lucrecia isn't sure she enjoys it, their silence. It feels condescending.
"You should leave with him," Ilfalna says suddenly. The child giggles, as if she's agreeing. "You can save him. There's still time..."
"I...can't..." Lucrecia sinks to her knees, rests her head against the cool tile of the floor. "I just can't. They'll find us. We'll die. They'll kill us."
"Coward." Ilfalna finally says the words she's meant to say since this started. She isn't malicious, only sad. "You're a coward. I'd die for Aerith. What would you do for your son? You're..." Ilfalna shakes, and the child moves unsteadily in her grasp. "Look at you! You should be ashamed!"
"You think I'm not?!"
"Do something then. If you love him, then save him. Please. Just try, for all our sakes."
Lucrecia stares up at Ilfalna, almost glowing in the fluorescent light, and makes her decision. "I'll...try."
-----------------
Jenova is not pleased. She screams at Lucrecia, inside her head, and Lucrecia closes the link with a snap. This is the right thing. She kneels down and kisses Sephiroth's forehead. He is holding his bear, and a sword, obscenely large. The Masamune.
"Take good care of Miss Ilfalna," she murmurs. "And help her with Aerith. I want you to take them to the slums. There's a woman there, Elmyra. My cousin. She'll take good care of you all."
The boy stares up at Ilfalna, holding the child, and then at Lucrecia. He holds the bear tightly in his small hands, and then hands it to her.
"Thank you," He hugs her suddenly, dropping the sword, and she hugs him back tightly. She never wants to let go. "Thank you so much."
"You're welcome." I love you.
She holds the bear in one hand as the three board the train to the slums, and waves with the other.
---------------