Whoa. I never really realized how many reviews this little story has gotten. I'm touched, really. Never thought I'd write anything worth reading. There's at least a few people out there, and I thank you.
T.C. Linden: You are cool beyond words, reviewing with poetry. That was my first literary art, and what I think is the purest form of human verbal expression.
Oh, and this is entirely in Yuffie's POV. Another break from the usual setup. Will do something similar in the next chapter.
Chapter 16 – Semplice: Yuffie
She didn't know what prompted her to check in on him less than ten minutes ago. At the time, Vincent and Tifa were discussing things on the couch, and Yuffie was trying her best to avoid them. They made her uncomfortable lately, giving her an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Unresolved people issues always did that to her. That and bad sushi. But she didn't want to think about food right now. Or that image that she was sure was permanently burned on her retinas. Grossness.
It was after Cloud was awake that things got their strangest; at least in her mind. He didn't speak or look at anyone at first, which made Vincent uneasy, or as uneasy at that man could get. Yuffie still had a hard time telling the difference between smiling and grimacing in his expression. Then again, she was never one for subtlety.
"...I think... I think I found her."
When Cloud had uttered those words, a change came over everyone, not just himself. Tifa looked down at the ground for a moment and then turned her face towards Vincent, as if waiting for him to say something. And that was the oddest part... he did.
"Then it has begun."
His response was simple, and frustratingly vague. Yuffie could never understand how a person could say less when they spoke. But Tifa seemed to get it, further confusing an already confused Yuffie.
But she would get no explanations. Not then. Not even now, as she stared up at the blank ceiling willing herself to sleep, but failing. And it was tiring. So... tiring.
"God damn it all," she muttered to herself as she lifted her body off the cot Tifa had set up for her. She didn't particularly like the arrangement, but with one room full of children, Vincent and Tifa conspicuously on the couch, and Cloud in Tifa's room... there were few options. At least she didn't have to sleep in the bathtub.
She tiptoed in her socks, a very gentle sound on the wood floors. She passed by the main room, and avoiding looking at the two awake figures on the couch; she didn't need anymore nightmares about that.
She had plenty to deal with on her own. So, for perhaps the second or third time in her young life, she hesitated.
She was just outside of Tifa's door, standing in the hallway, with her hair a mess and missing her shoes. On the other side was that which she feared most. Reality. A man who was just a little messed up, who dreamed of dead girls and tried to possess real ones. An imperfect and soiled being... like her.
There was a term for her previous affliction. Hero worship.
"But what does the hero do when the evil is gone?" she caught herself mouthing aloud, and clapped her hand over her least favorite feature. She didn't want to alert him to her presence, not until she willed it. That was her way; spoiled and confident. That was something that would never rub off, for all the erosion age would afflict her.
But her mind traveled back to it. That term, that damned hero worship. The things that teenaged crushes were built upon. Such an unsteady foundation, like a building on sand. But it was worse now.
She damn well loved that head case.
She saw it now, her coquettish and vixen ways from before were just a fine mist before the real storm. And oh, how it was raining now. A car wreck was nothing compared to this.
It was when he opened his eyes, revealing that they hadn't slipped into the evil green she feared they would be. So damned blue. That's when she realized why Tifa had held such a tyrannical grip on him, that long but still so remembered time ago. There was nothing comforting or romantic in that blue; it was almost unsettling. But it drew her into it, into him and it made her want to feel it, to understand it... to share it. It made her want... to protect him.
And how she hated her.
Yuffie already knew she was a flawed and fallen person. So hating the martyr of the planet was just something she could add to the list. She'd broken some many other stigmas, why not this one? It was what set her apart from the other women in her mind. Tifa was gorgeous, and insecure, and the other...
Aeris.
She was the embodiment of everything that bothered her. The bubble headed flirtations; the teasing way she left the bottom buttons of her dress undone, and that overdone feminine helplessness...
And that damned selfless act of redemption. If it really were so easy to be forgiven, to clean all the grime of life, Yuffie would have gotten herself killed years ago. How someone could act like she did and still be essentially good... That was what bothered her. Aeris lacked a true identity of her own; like she was the planet and femininity and whatever idea needed to be expressed at that particular moment. Nothing like that could exist for long. Not in Yuffie's mind, at least.
She never liked her. From the first moment she met her, running into Cloud and Barret and her... Those puny staff attacks, and non-offensive materia skills...
And Yuffie stole all of her materia, except that special one, right after she died. No one noticed. It was her evil little petty secret. And she still had that materia, along with the last Leviathan. She was the owner of the world's only remaining materia.
Sure, she had cried, but more for the loss of something within herself. She saw death. Real death. And she knew for an instant that nothing in her life could ever be worth that much, she'd never measure up to that fleeting glimpse of sacrifice. That was a discipline Yuffie had never been taught; had never cared to study.
And how she hated her.
Yuffie shook her head. She didn't know why the venom in the back of her mind rose to the fore, and was a little startled at the turn her actions were taking. Now she, Yuffie Kisaragi, she was no head case. She was glaringly imperfect, that's what she was...
That's why she disliked her so much. She hated weakness. In any form. Something they had in common, in different ways...
"Miss Yuffie?" a quiet and gentle voice spoke, breaking her from her steadily descending inner monologue.
"Whaddya want, kid?" she whispered back, recognizing the girl from the use of 'Miss'. Only one child ever called her that seriously.
"Are they still awake?" the girl continued, carefully peering around on her tiptoes. Yuffie grinned.
"You probably shouldn't bother them, Audrey," Yuffie hushingly advised, still watching the girl's movements with amusement. Audrey nodded.
"So he knows," she whispered, with a reverent emphasis on he. Her voice always changed when she spoke of Vincent. Yuffie thought it was absolutely adorable. Next to Rinna, Audrey was her favorite, even if she wasn't much of a talker. She still had time to learn.
"So you should go back to bed," Yuffie commanded, in as imperial a tone a whisper could allow, "I'll be doing watch duty." Audrey nodded again.
"He's lucky to have you watch over him," Audrey whispered before she silently went out of sight.
And Yuffie stared at the door, still a little puzzled that a twelve year old could say such things.
"Well, kid, here goes nothing..."
She was glad that the hinges on the door were well oiled. It made her entrance quiet, unobtrusive. Despite most people's impressions of her, she was most comfortable when she could use stealth; it enlivened her senses, and she reveled in that feeling.
"I heard you before you even entered the hallway."
In the dark, he couldn't see the grimace on her face. In the dark, she could pretend she was invisible. But she was never truly silent. Her daytime demeanor never fully faded away in the dark.
"Why aren't you asleep?" she asked, trying to keep the tone slightly annoyed. If she didn't watch it, she would start sounding like Tifa...
"I've had enough with dreaming," he answered. Cool. Collected. Like he'd been practicing the words for weeks, in front of the mirror when no one was looking.
"You too, huh?" she let slip, past the watchful guard of her mind. But she was kidding herself. Her mouth was its own malicious entity, waiting to destroy her with what lay in her thoughts.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" he quietly let out, like a slow hiss of air out of a balloon, "After what I've said, what I've done..."
"It takes one to know one," she added, hoping that the clichéd phrase didn't betray her lack of studious education. But then, she'd performed an even greater error. Comparing them. It was low to compare herself to him.
"I knew you were watching me, before the dreams started," he whispered, a sound that always made her shiver, "Eyes, dark and patient, so unlike the rest of you." She frowned, and for once, her mouth obeyed; staying shut.
"I want to talk to you, Yuffie. I think," he continued, his voice returning to a normal volume, "I think I trust you. You've changed, into something I wasn't expecting..."
She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want long discussions that ripped all her illusions to shreds and left all her images shattered to pieces. She wanted to be whole, and she wanted him to be whole. There were too many tattered people...
"No!" she gasped, her fists at her sides and her heart in her throat, "I am not your damned therapy!"
It was then that she saw it, the perfect blue glow that signified he had opened his eyes. And it caught her, with her mouth opened and eyes riveted to his darkened form.
"Always the faces of women..." he remarked, unfazed by her tantrum, "...How come I've never seen yours?"
And she choked on her words, literally drowning in her own worst affliction. She used to call it hero worship, before she knew what love was. And she still didn't know, really. But she felt it, the rain and thunder pounding in her skull.
"Maybe 'cause you've never looked at your own. Wrapped up in your own little world, waiting for something, and when it didn't happen, you blamed it on someone else..."
Her mouth was betraying her.
"...Dammit Cloud. Do you realize how many have loved you? And she, she died for you and for me and for the world..."
It wasn't making sense, and it was madness.
"...And I hated her. And I hated you. And I love you. But you have to be whole, Cloud. Whole. 'Cause you are supposed to be everything I'm not. Dammit, you're so fucking perfect."
She stopped, panting from the quickness of word and blood that had risen up in her.
"Someone told me that we are all imperfect," he replied, "We're just really good at hiding it."
And she stared, right into the glowing blue oblivion and then, then it just clicked, she could see it. She saw all his fractured parts, all the hatred and love and violence and tentative want. And he knew it; she could see it in his eyes, in that terrible blue.
They both just wanted a little understanding.
And a shaky hand broke through the dark, not reaching out, not taking. It simply held the tiny hand that sought its warmth.
"I see you."
AN: Alright, before someone flames me about the Aeris comments made by Yuffie... it just makes sense to me. Tifa and Aeris were friends, that's very clear. And I could see Tifa and Yuffie getting along after it's all over. But I could never see Aeris and Yuffie getting along well. They would just clash, as they both are talkative and for other reasons. And also, this is not my excuse to be anti-Aeris. That would be childish. I'm just trying to go with certain themes, if you've noticed. Anyway, I've babbled enough. If you want to discuss my theories/beliefs about FF7, just email me. I like to hear ideas.
Theme Songs: Sleeping Beauty A Perfect Circle and Days David Bowie, and lastly So Unsexy Alanis Morissette