.5.

Aerith followed Sephiroth obediently for a few steps as he roughly pulled her behind him. Remembering suddenly her materia, she came to an abrupt halt. Sephiroth stopped as well, turning to fix her with an impatient glare.

"My materia," she said by way of explanation. With a curt nod he released her arm and she quickly ran to where her materia lay, gleaming white even in the confined shadows. As she returned it to her pocket she cast one last desperate look around. The alley extended only a short ways behind her before it met a brick wall. At the mouth of the alley Sephiroth stood, tall and indomitable and effectively blocking any chance of escape. She briefly contemplated another attempt at using her materia to subdue him, or at least render him harmless. Watching the thought flicker across her expressive face, Sephiroth said flatly, "Don't."

She glanced at him nervously and quickly disregarded the notion. If she wanted to get by without rousing his wrath she would have to tread carefully. She haltingly made her way back to him, and when he gestured for her to proceed him she did. Their exit from the alley revealed the closest streets of Kalm to be devoid of people, as she had feared. She cast a harried look at the exit of the village but quickly quelled the urge to make a mad dash for it; she could feel his watchful gaze against her back and knew he was waiting for her to attempt just that. She bowed her head in bitter resignation and instead continued to the inn. As she reached the door he moved in front of her, opening the door and guiding her through with an arm against her back. The interior was brightly lit and would have been cheery had the circumstances been different. Directly across from the entrance was the large reception desk. Aerith kept her face averted and her eyes downcast as the burly innkeeper, recognizing the legendary General, stammered enough to inform them that the best room in the building was ready for their arrival. Sephiroth, with a brusque nod, headed for the stairs with Aerith in tow. She had to run to keep up with his long strides. They quickly climbed two flights of stairs, and on the third floor Sephiroth paused only long enough to locate the room he had previously booked. He unlocked the door with the key he produced from a pocket, led them both inside, and releasing her arm turned to lock it again.

Apprehensive at the prospect of being confined in such close quarters with Sephiroth, Aerith retreated to one of the two beds in the corner of the room and sat down. With her back against the headboard she drew her knees to her chest and watched him through widened eyes. He turned from the door and strode to the window, drawing the shutters close with such force that the window rattled before proceeding to lock them. He was, Aerith realized with a sinking heart, effectively cutting off all routes of escape. Sensing her attention, he turned and regarded her with a hooded gaze for so long that she began to fidget uncomfortably.

"Give me your materia." he said finally.

"No." She replied without thinking, and then felt the blood drain from her face.

"No?" He repeated, raising one arched brow.

"It's mine," she said weakly, her hand moving to the pocket where the materia in question lay.

"I can't very well let you keep it. You may," he said with some irritation, "attempt to use it on me again."

"No," Aerith repeated, her hand closing over the small orb through the fabric of her dress. She couldn't let him have it; it was the one thing that was truly hers, and it without it she felt lost.

"I will take it from you," he said, warning heavy in his tone.

"Please ... I promise I won't use it. Let me keep it." She pleaded.

He was shaking his head, sending ripples through the cascade of his snowy hair. He advanced on her, one step at a time, until he loomed before her as she huddled at the head of the bed. He extended one hand, palm up. His nearness disconcerted her; she looked anywhere but at him. After long moments, sensing his growing ire, she hesitantly lifted the materia from the pocket and dropped it in his hand. His fingers curled over it, and he raised it to his eyes. Aerith closed her eyes against the sudden loss of feeling. The white materia served as an amplifier for her senses; she could sense things that most others couldn't. As long as it was near her, she was almost one with all that was nature. She could always feel the pulsing of life from those who surrounded her; could always feel a comforting presence that never strayed far from her. Touching the materia caused these sensations to increase, and at times it was almost as if she could here things speaking to her, singing to her. She had been with the materia all her life, and now as she found herself without it, in the posession of someone else, the experience was frighteningly alien. Everything was silent, and devoid of feeling. Her mind, usually filled with the comforting hum of life, was coldly silent. She realized then that Sephiroth hadn't moved from where he stood, and slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

He was watching her intently again, a speculative look on his face. "When I took your materia, you shuddered. Why?"

"I ..." She began, than trailed off. How was she to explain it to him? He was still regarding her closely, and she nervously licked her lips.

"I have never been without it for long ..."

"That's not the reason. Tell me why."

"It comforts me," she said, for lack of anything else.

"How?" He asked.

"It's hard to explain."

"Shall I try to use it?" He asked casually, raising it before him but keeping his eyes on her to gauge her reaction.

"I don't ... I don't think you can."

"No? " There it was again, that trace of mocking amusement, that infuriating pride. He focused all his attention on the ivory, swirling depths of the orb before him. Aerith, inwardly cringing, couldn't look away. A frown grew on his face, and his fingers tightened around the materia. "What-?" He said suddenly, before a brilliant white light enveloped the room. Aerith, crying out, hid her eyes from the searing light behind her hands. The glow abruptly died, and she removed her hands to look upon Sephiroth. He was down on one knee, his proud features drawn, but in his eyes was a trace of disbelief. He returned his gaze to her.

"What is this?" He whispered.

"My materia," She replied. "Nothing more."

"Do not lie to me!" He ground out, rising to his feet with the speed of a striking snake. He dropped the materia as if burned, and it bounced across the floor with a clear ringing sound. He was before her in an instant, and she fell back against the pillows in order to escape his blatant rage.

"Ordinary materia does not do what yours just did," He growled, his hand seizing her wrist as she tried to slide off the other side of the bed. "Why is yours different?"

"I don't know," she said, and then gasped in pain as he wrenched sharply at her wrist. His mercurial mood swings terrified her. "I don't know why it's different," she said desperately, frantically attempting to free herself. "I've had it since I was a child. I don't know!"

He stopped then, and with no effort at all drew her upright so that she stood trembling before him. When she refused to raise her gaze, he firmly grasped her chin with one hand and tipped her head back so that her eyes had no choice but to meet his own. The rage had faded from them, leaving them to glow with their own intrinsic brilliance. His transition from fury to collected calm had been abrupt and seamless. He studied her own eyes for long moments, attempting to discern whether she was telling the truth. They stared back at him, full of fear and trepidation, their own deep green depths a distant cousin to his own. He smiled then, without humor, and released her. "You're telling me the truth."

She nodded, and immediately scurried to pick up her fallen materia. As it touched her skin, it was like being able to see again after having been blind for years. She inhaled sharply as all the acute sensations flooded back to fill her body in one glorifying rush. When she turned around, the materia safely in her pocket, the expression on Sephiroth's face was one of open curiosity.

"What happened when you touched it, just now?"

She debated not answering him, and then remembered his terrifying, quicksilver temper. "It's like breathing after being denied air, " she said simply, for that was the only way she could think to explain it..

"It enhances your senses?"

"Something like that."

"I see." He said. After another moment of staring at her contemplatively, he moved to the door. "I'm going to gather supplies for the rest of our journey. Get some rest. And," he paused, the ghost of a sardonic grin curving his lips, "Don't go anywhere."

Several replies, none of them polite, crossed her mind. Instead she watched mutely as he unlocked the door and stepped through. There was a soft noise as he turned the key in the lock from the other side, and his footsteps as he receded down the hall. She walked once again to the bed, and sank down on it. Her thoughts, a mass of muddled confusion, were rebounding with such force in her mind that her head was beginning to throb. She felt totally isolated and defeated; she was captive of an inhuman and unstable man, who wanted no doubt to murder her. She was too tired for tears, and instead lay back against the pillows before turning on her side and curling into a ball. She closed her eyes against harsh reality and brought to mind Cloud; smiling Cloud, handsome and brave Cloud. Cloud that she may never see again. She pulled the materia from her pocket and cradled it against her cheek. Instantly some of her despair faded, and lulled by the gentle pulsing she fell slowly into sleep.

.x.