Book III

1

Pause

New York

It was one thing to be climbing over the rocks along Liberty Island in nothing but a long t-shirt dress, dripping in murky water and clinging to my cold skin translucently. It's a whole other thing when I stumble like a drunken woman, fallen from a yacht party, crawling over wet stones to finally fall into grass. Onlookers gawked, gathering to speculate over the mad woman looking lost and bewildered.

My lips trembled, the air thin as the sea breeze enclosed around me like giant ice-cold hands.

The first I noticed, besides the Statue of Liberty standing over me a little over three-hundred feet, was the noise.

So. Much. Noise.

And it wasn't just the usual city noise.

My ears rang, and all the voices of this Planet, Earth, harpooned into my ears all at once. I gasped, my chest aching from a heart beating too fast. I began to hyperventilate as my hands reached over my ears. And then my eyes burned with the horrifying image of Aerith's lifeless body, leaving me to do nothing but scream like I was still there.

I got to escape, but I never wanted that. I never wanted to leave! How cowardly I felt, to just be off the hook like that.

The whispers practically screamed in agony with me, louder than I've ever heard before.

Aerith.

Her lifeless eyes, that frozen smile.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere.

My hands traveled up my face, hiding my tear soaked eyes with trembling force.

And I wept until the exhaustion of the magic caught up with me. Using all of that force to take me back home, left me with a few more breaths to exhale broken cries. I rammed my forehead into the fresh cut grass, tasting it and dirt, when I opened-mouthed another heart-breaking cry. What was left of my energy, flared around my body, tiny green flames dispersed, and I passed out.

—

"Heart rate one-thirty."

"Give 500 of LR."

Peep. Peep. Peep.

"Neurologically intact. Pupils reactive to light."

"Lungs clear, sating at ninety-percent, on room air."

Many voices.

The Planet's voices merged with the working staff of a place I used to surround myself in, where I used to practically live through every day. It was soothing, the familiar peeping, the slang, the terms, the numbers, understanding it all without having to recall any of it. Hands were rough, and there were pokes in my arms.

I didn't realize how rough the medical staff were. Was I that rough on my patients?

Hand sanitizer was too fragrant; such a strong stench of clean.

It all seemed like a dream. Voices blurred. The intensity in the air faded. Beeping and alarms whirled around me, and I thought I was spinning in circles.

What if I was dreaming the whole time? What if I never left home, and I was stuck here, in a coma inside a hospital the entire time?

My thoughts frightened me, unable to tell which was dream and which was reality for what, felt like, an extensively long time. Hours? Days? I felt so exhausted, often left to wander a dark place, or when I was deep enough in sleep, to simply dream.

I wanted to stay asleep, to keep dreaming. To dream of Aerith's marvelous eyes, so full of life, I felt fortunate every time they turned to me. To dream of Cloud's rare smiles, like the one he gave me in bed as he let his fingers brush over my hairline.

Isaac's small smile appeared, the very last second I ever saw of that world before I was taken away to safety.

Don't come back.

Everything hurt. Everything was heavy. I thought I was strapped to a large boulder, sinking into cold, dark water, the noises, and voices of my world a faint whisper.

I wanted to disappear…

"Aqua."

A hand took to my shoulder, and shook.

"Aqua! Are you there?!"

I winced as I was being pulled away from the dark abyss of dreams. Reality crawled its way in, hitting me with cold, sharp pain, my body heavy with ten pound needles pinning me to a stiff bed. I was shaken again, and I turned my head away from the loud voice right in my ear.

"Aqua! You're in the hospital in New York University! Lagone! It's Monday, December 21st. You've been asleep for three days!"

My eyes flapped open, and standing over me under a bright white light, was Dr. Hojo. I gasped, crawling up in bed with wide eyes in horror, heart rate jumping. But then I blinked, and his face shifted to something soft and pale, with long, shiny black hair tied back, and round glasses.

I tensed, recognizing those brown eyes behind the glasses, a memory resurfaced from long ago.

A bright white-teeth smile appeared.

Dr. Linh, one of the attendees I used to work with, exclaimed, "You're awake!" her voice sounded muffled.

My ears rang, obscured by the continuous low whispers of Earth. It dawned on me that Earth must've carried a Lifestream, too, but we were too blinded to see it, too entranced with our own lives and our own problems. It never occurred to me how much Earth suffered as it laid in the background, reminding me every second of its ache we humans were inflicting. I never knew how terrible it really was here, being on the medications most of my life. Coming back, it almost felt like I never left Gaia, that somehow, in all of this, we were connected. Someway, somehow.

My proclaimed thoughts were interrupted when more faces hovered over me, hair falling, smiles showing and eyes wide.

I groaned, trying to focus on their cheerful voices over the hum of Earth's pain.

"Page Dr. Goldman," someone demanded.

I shivered, despite feeling three layers of bath blankets over me, and clutched to them tight while trying to absorb the hospital room. I recognized the typical ICU rooms, large, cold, and many windows.

When I peered across the room, there were dozens of them, in white coats and scrubs outside the glass doors, surveying me like I was a rare animal in a zoo. I blinked at the audience, and then looked at the bright ceiling lamp. There should be questions coming off my dry lips, but I didn't feel much like talking, even as Dr. Linh stood next to me, smiling with her eyes bright.

"Do you remember what happened?"

I did, but just to understand how much they knew, I shook my head, keeping quiet.

Linh sucked in a deep breath, and crossed her arms over her white coat.

"Witnesses said you and Isaac fell into the street. Perhaps some crack into the sewer. Either way, you both disappeared."

I swallowed before I asked the big question. It took a moment to collect my voice, at first, very raspy, like all I did was scream for hours. I coughed a few times to clear my throat.

"How long?" I struggled, voice hoarse.

"Police said sixty-four days."

I closed my eyes.

Sixty-four days? There was no way I was gone that long. Maybe a month at most. Did time work differently between worlds?

"It's a miracle you're alive if you've been swept in the sewers the whole time. It's impossible, I think. Police are waiting around, desperate to ask you questions," Dr. Linh laid out.

I let her keep talking, even though I was only half listening. My head turned away from the light, and I blinked to a large window to my left. Linh's voice grew far away as she asked me if there was any family to contact, but I ignored her. I just stared at that window, drawn to the rain drops dancing down the wide glass, the sky dark behind it. Minutes turned into hours, physician after physician asking me questions about my pain, my concerns, to check my neurological function with penlights, simple problem-solving questions, stroke exams, and vitals checked.

It was exhausting to stay awake through all of it, feeling numb with barely a word in it.

I let myself drown in the flow, my eyes closed most of the time.

But then another familiar voice.

"Aqua, child, oh thank God you're all right," a crisp low tone bellowed. I opened up to find Dr. Goldman, the Chief Medical Officer of NYU Langone hospital, standing next to my bed, his brown hair combed back neatly as usual, and his brown eyes sparkling.

Isaac's father.

He laid a cold hand over mine, and smiled stiffly. I knew what he wanted to ask as he tried to show me his support, but I was aware how little the man showed his affection, especially physically.

He licked his lips, forehead furrowed into wrinkles.

"Look, hun, I know you've just woken up recently, but…" he looked into my eyes, a dead serious stare baring claws.

"Do you know what happened to my son?"

I swallowed, eyes burning when flashes of Isaac's smile came and went.

He wouldn't believe me. No one here would.

Sitting there in bed, body in a cold sweat under a stiff hospital gown, I shook my head as the tears readied.

"No," I cracked, eyes becoming wet.

He's gone, stuck in Cloud's world, probably dead.

Dr. Goldman sighed as he forced a sad smile to his pale, wrinkled face, eyes to the floor. When he lifted them again, through his thin glass lenses, his smile showed that he was dissatisfied with my answer, but didn't press it further. He simply nodded, suppressing an inner rage, until I thought I was looking right at an older Isaac.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay. I want to stay, but I'm already late for a meeting. I'll stop by again later before I head home," Isaac's father assured, pulling his dry, wrinkled hand back. He gave me a weak thumbs up, often uncomfortable with close interactions, and left the room with a sliding of the glass door.

I rolled back to my side, and gazed back to the window, the darkness of night like my dream world where I wish I could return. I lifted my right arm up, an IV stuck to it to give me fluids, and nothing else.

The bracer was gone, non-existent.

My hand curled in the middle of the air, a weak fist forming, and then my arm shook as my eyes stung. There was no physical proof that I ever left this world.

No bracer. Nothing.

I have nothing. Nothing but memories of a world so different from this one.

Something got caught in the sheet in my left hand. I uncurled my fingers, and there, sitting on my wedding finger, was my engagement ring.

My heart skipped a beat.

Flashes of Isaac slammed in my head, his kiss ambitious and warm. He worked so fast, I didn't even notice it. He must've slipped it on just before ripping the bracelet free from my wrist.

Under the dim ceiling lamp, the large diamond shimmered, its little companions around the gold brand like white glitter. It felt strange seeing my ring there, almost like I never left home. But flashes of Isaac upset, holding the ring up in the air as he declared he was to hold on to it, burned inside my brain. He kept it the whole time?

I didn't know what to think of it, my heart not set on its expensive, heavy weight in my hand, a strange reminder that I once was his. My hand rammed under a pillow, determined to hide the ring from my wet eyes when I didn't feel like staring at it anymore.

My face fell into the cheap, crinkly pillow, and very quietly, I wept.

/

In the hospital bed, I sat up, quiet, eyes glued to the outside world, having enough of being in the hospital. A nicely dressed gentleman sat in a chair next to my bed, smiling up at me with a paper thin smile. He cleared his throat, adjusted his bow tie, and settled his elbows over his beige khakis, fingers laced under his chin.

"Aqua, I know you have a lot on your mind, but I'm here if you need to talk," Dr. Meyers reminded me, a well-known psychologist.

When I didn't say anything, he cleared his throat, and looked down at his Oxford shoes, one of them tapping softly over the plastic tile.

"I understand you've been on a few medications. And with being gone for...a while, it would make sense some of your symptoms have returned. And on top of that, the trauma. You've been through quite a lot, Aqua. Lost in dark places. Losing the love of your life, it's-"

"Stop."

I thought I sounded like Cloud with the way I halted Dr. Meyers from progressing any further, and I finally looked at him, my eyes empty.

He swallowed and straightened in his chair. I tried to remind myself that I used to be like him. Used to believe everything happened in a chemical reaction, not with magic. There was no such thing as magic. The voices in my head were too many neurons firing, shoving parts of my brain with delusions.

I didn't even smile when I said to the young doctor, "You can go now, Dr. Meyers. Thank you for your time."

He licked his thin lips and heaved a small smile, baffled at my request.

"Ahhh, but we should discuss what medications to put you back on-"

"I don't want them," I whispered, sitting tall and ready to leave this place, to leave the reporters outside my door, the many physicians baffled over "miracle girl alive after 2 months gone".

Dr. Meyers had his mouth hang open for a moment as his thoughts swished around, until he cleared his throat and nodded.

"I can't make you take any meds, you're right," he confirmed, knowing better than to argue.

I turned back to the window, watching the white sky unfold over a jungle of skyscrapers. It looked cold, I could almost feel it through the glass, how the stacks emitted white fog into the sky.

"Then, may I recommend therapy? At least to help you sort through all of this. I'll refer you to Dr. Fox, she's an excellent therapist, just a few blocks from your address. You should get a..." he struggled, forgetting that I may not have my cellphone.

"Uh, email. Sorry. She will email you tomorrow, I'll make sure of that, and you call her to make an appointment. Understand?"

I nodded absently, not really listening. My mind was buzzing, not just with voices, but with the dread of being out there, afraid and yet ready to finally face it.

"Have you been hearing voices since being awake?" Dr. Meyers suddenly asked.

I stared at the white sky, watching tiny flakes of snow start to fall.

In a serious tone, I forcefully chirped, "Nope."

He wouldn't understand. No one would, except for one person... My mind buzzed, a small idea implanted, and yet, I was still only treading the waters lightly, taking it slow while absorbing yet again, a new world revolving around me.

—

No monsters roaming in the slums. No one carrying around massive swords in the streets of New York City…hopefully. No Mako reactors blooming green and black smoke into the sky, nor metal plates blocking the sun.

Discharged only an hour ago, I squinted up at the afternoon sun lurking just over a tall bank building, hiding partially behind thick grey clouds. I've been trapped inside Langone Hospital for three days, often just questioned, or more like, interrogated. Often of how I went missing for 9 weeks without so much as a scratch. And Isaac of course. I played the amnesia game, pretending I knew nothing, so they wouldn't lock me up in an asylum.

An early winter arrived, the sidewalks and streets covered in a thin layer of white, some snow old, another fresh as tiny flakes kissed my cheeks. When was the last time I felt snow? I was warped on that ship heading towards Costa Del Sol, watching Aerith marvel up at snowflakes like it was magical, her eyes sparkling.

This feels familiar.

An icy air sent me chills, pulling my thoughts aside and my absent stare away from the hidden sun, and I zipped my fleece up all the way.

An arm looped around mine.

"Aqua, let's go celebrate you discharging!" A coworker chirped. I didn't even remember her name. Was it Holly?

I let four girls drag me through a crowded street. They chatted, caught up in their work gossip and love interests. I was busy trying to decipher which voices happened on the street, and which were inside my head. My eyes would jerk to a passer, aiming for their lips, and often find them unmoving, leaving me to guess it was the Planet speaking to me, though through all the noise, I couldn't interpret what it was saying. I got stares for the way I whipped my head back and forth, eyes darting too frequently. The bustling city in a cold, December morning, smudged me into a crowd of passers, brushing against coats, bumping into hands holding coffee cups and the smells of pastries and urine up my nose.

My stomach coiled from the smells, and I suddenly felt nauseous.

As soon as my coworkers sat at a table inside Joey's Pizza Parlor on 8th Ave, I told them I needed to use the restroom, and hurried.

I barely made it, hands pushing the stall and frantically closing it before my head fell into the toilet, and vomited what my empty stomach could come up with.

Sitting there amongst the chatter of girls, I sat in a daze, the pizza of no interest to me, even as it laid there across the table under my eyes. Greedy hands knit pick at it, and I thought of Don Corneo's hands when he picked his women.

"What's wrong, Aqua? You love pizza!" exclaimed a physician resident I worked with, but her name also slipped my mind. Every time I looked into any of their faces, they seemed smudged with grey paint, no color, no nothing to latch to. Everything appeared grey, even the pizza when I took one look at its bubbly cheese and charcoal looking pepperoni mess. Its smells jabbed me in the gut to almost vomit again, and I put a hand to my lips as I closed my eyes.

"I can't. I'm not feeling well," I muttered.

All four pairs of eyes drooped, and there were, "Awwws," around the table.

"It makes sense. You've been through a lot. And of course, Isaac not around. You must miss him so much," another girl groaned, her grey face barely lit under our little overhead light.

"Are they still looking for him?" A third girl asked, cheese grease licked off her lips.

"Of course! Dr. Goldman won't stop until he gets his son back. If Aqua lived, then there's a high chance Isaac did too," another replied, her eyes large.

"Sucks we are already passed the wedding date, huh, Aqua?"

I was stuck on this nauseating feeling that something was wrong with me, that sickness episode unusual, especially over pizza. I thought I could smell everything. The pizza, perfumes fuming off my coworkers, and even the cleaner and soda pop behind the counter.

My hands fiddled over my jeans, my long braid getting mixed into my fingers, until someone called to me.

"Aqua?"

I gasped, waking up from a spell, and peered at four grey blobs. There were looks of forced smiles and sadden truths.

"About the wedding. Let's plan for a new one, so that when Isaac is found, you two can marry right away!" One of them exclaimed, her sharp hand shooting through the air like a rocket. There were some giggles.

I forced a small smile, nodding to their laughs, and as soon as they began to chat again, I gladly retreated, thoughts back to processing being here in New York.

I licked my lips and looked out the window, desperate to be outside, and yet, knew it wasn't enough.

People in business clothes, coats, scarves, and tourists passed the parlor's foggy windows. Coats held high up over necks, to keep the cold air and snowflakes out. Dogs skittered and passed, held on leashes. Every other car that zoomed down the sloshy, wet street was yellow.

Smiles. Blank faces. People talking on their cellphones. People eating and drinking as they walk in a grey city.

I sank in my seat, watching the normal every day of life just pass me by.

I guess this was it. From now on, I was expected to reset and go back to normal.

"Aqua? Why don't you stay with me for a few days?" A coworker asked, grabbing my attention again.

Immediately, I shook my head, not even really knowing her. And if I did, I didn't want to be around anyone.

"No, thank you. I'll be fine. I miss my apartment," I muttered, looking down at my hands.

"Ugh. Why would you want to go back there? To be reminded of Isaac while he's missing? That's torture," another girl groaned.

But I shook my head again, my idea brewing more.

"No, I don't mind. I want to sort some things out," I declared quietly.

There was an uneasy silence around the table, and then someone mentioned, "It's a good thing you get a couple of weeks off, at least. I heard they are letting you go for a while. Which makes sense."

More voices.

"Oh, I would travel, get away from all the attention, the places that bring painful memories. Girl, I would just fucking leave," one snapped. And then a whole conversation exploded easily among the four of them, like what to do if you needed a huge break or a reset.

I left them to discuss, keeping quiet while I daydreamed a world that wasn't grey.

—

The office of my apartment building had no problem with my situation. Losing my purse a long time ago, with my wallet, phone and keys, I had to find a way to get inside my apartment somehow.

Of course, they all knew of my situation. Reporters barging into me a second I stepped out of that hospital, didn't exactly help me return to a normal life easily.

I thanked the office, and with a new access card in my hand, I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor.

Standing there in that elevator, hearing it hum and ding to the numbers along to each floor, flashed me back to Shinra's Headquarters. I was on that elevator with Cloud and Aerith, gazing out to the gloomy city of Midgar. I remember holding Cloud's gaze briefly through the refection of the glass as we spoke of how a slice of the city was just gone. The difficult conversation with Aerith about her mother. Flashes of her sad smile came, and I gasped, finding myself back in my small elevator after it belled. The doors were open, but I didn't move. I laid a hand to my chest, eyes ready to leak as I clenched my teeth. My head bowed, body ready to collapse in between the elevator and the floor, but I fought the temptation, and dragged my feet across the carpeted hallway.

I was walking through a dream, suddenly realizing what I was doing was what I did exactly after falling into Midgar. Anytime I was reminded of New York, I transported myself back there for a minute, pretending to be home.

Now I took every reminder I got just to fall back to the other world, and became stuck in between.

My hands fell to a familiar apartment door, #2025, and I tapped the card to the lock.

The lock's small panel of light flashed green, and I opened the door slowly.

It vaguely creaked, barely heard over the hum of whispers that followed me wherever I went. I stood there, blinking into a dark apartment with the smell of lack of air movement for a significant time, stuffy.

A heavy darkness greeted me. My shaky hand reached for a light switch, and I squinted to the light over the doorway.

I stumbled inside, closing the door, and just stood there for a moment, trying to take it all in, and yet couldn't. Slowly, I wandered aimlessly down the hall, shuffling across familiar wood floors. I ignored the photos on the walls, the open closets, the heavy feeling sinking my shoulders and dragging my feet. When I stopped, the deathly quiet place became saturated with shadows, lurking around the corners and into rooms, taking old memories hostage.

I stood there, unsure what to do as I gazed at all the windows aligning the main wall between the kitchen and the living room. Dark curtains closed them, not a hint of light nor air to be trickling inside the dreary place. Voices of Earth were loud here, and I could finally hear its wails clearly. I refused to listen, and before I could suffocate inside the apartment, I gasped and reached desperately to the windows. Curtains pulled back, windows pushed open, and New York City's noise leaked inside, pushing away the voices. A few flakes of snow slipped inside, leaving me to leave only small gaps open to each window, and let the dark grey film of the evening spill on the floor, barely giving light to the place.

I turned on all the lamps. Gentle lights cast on photos, posters, books on shelves, the empty kitchen with stainless-steel counters.

My body dragged me to the bedroom, but I froze, standing there under the doorframe, and glazed over a neat queen bed with white bedding from IKEA.

I knew what the sheets will smell like, old and unwashed, remnants of an old love that lingered, even though it has been months. My feet kicked off borrowed sneakers, and I immediately collapsed onto my side of the bed.

And wept so hard in my old pillow, it shook me to the core.

—

The next morning, I woke up feeling sick again. After another vomit spell, I sat there beside the flushing toilet, resting my back against a wall, and began to panic.

My hands gently tapped my breasts over my grey fleece, feeling how tender they were, and my head shook right away, eyes wide at the claw foot tub across from me.

A cold sweat collected in the back of my neck.

"There's no way," I whispered, hands falling to my soft belly.

I was already starting to hyperventilate, wheezing, until I jolted up and splashed cold water on my face. For the first time since coming back, I looked at myself in the mirror, and went aghast at what I saw.

A pale woman stuck in a grey world, her skin tone reminding me of ash. Her deep, broken eyes and a sunken face stared right back at me. Her once, shiny silver hair, turned into a frizzy, untamed mess, making her appear more like an old woman stuck in an oldie film than just exotic. And then there was that scar, sitting there between my neck and shoulder like a dark, pink swimsuit strap. I let my fingers fiddle with the recent wound, remembering how I felt when Cloud's blade slowly wedged its way into that spot. Then and there, I thought I was going to die, left to bleed to death in my own pool of blood while Sephiroth flew away. It wasn't right to blame Cloud, but still, a part of me felt resentment towards him, selfishly asking him in an imaginative scene, how he couldn't fight against it. My mirror fogged with my breath after the longest of sighs, slipping my hand away from the awful reminder sitting there on my body.

I lifted the hem of my fleece and shirt, finding that same scar from Dr. Hojo, right there, sitting just over my pelvis, under my umbillical region.

Enough with the scars and pain, I decided to wash my face, using my old face wash, and its fragrance brought me back to my old life for a minute. Thoughts swirled quickly, my plan for the empty day set in motion to what I needed to do to gain some clarity.

I gave myself on more glance in the mirror, face rubbed raw from a towel. I tried to smile, but my cheeks sank, lips too heavy to even bother. There as no reason to smile, especially if my fears of what I suspected were lurking heavily. With haste, I combed my hair, moisturized my face, and changed clothes.

I tried not to look into Isaac's drawers, where I knew all his clothes were neatly folded. I preferred not to spend minutes at a time, blinking over a photo of us on the nightstand, or on the walls. There was no point to even be looking in our kitchen, knowing that if I didn't go and do my errand now, I would be left wondering all day.

Changed in clean jeans, long sleeve sweater and scarf, I flipped my long hair up in a loose bun, slipped on sneakers, and rushed out the apartment with my old credit card.

Ten minutes later, I came back, holding a small plastic bag, and went straight for the bathroom, even with my shoes still on.

Four pregnancy tests scattered over the bathroom counter, one fell in the sink.

I locked myself in the apartment all day, enough to make it to four pee runs, just to be absolutely certain.

"Please," I whispered as I stared at a pregnancy test in my hand.

I sat on the toilet after another pee. Impatiently, I waited as the stick did its capillary refill trick, the moisture heading straight for the little window that was supposed to give me the answer to the biggest question I've had all day.

It took about two minutes to see the color change, and then, to my dismay, a positive sign.

I closed my eyes and rolled my head back with a whisper of "Fuck."

With a clank, I tossed the pregnancy test in the small garbage can, to join the other three tests already in there, bright pink positive signs glaring up at me. I slammed the trash can shut, and rammed my hands into my eyes, elbows resting over my knees.

It was impossible.

No way.

I kept telling myself that. But each time I got sick, and the smells were too intense to wander outside, and my breasts were sensitive even brushing against my bra, deeply, I knew.

It wasn't Isaac's. After our last argument, it's been weeks and a whole other period before I feel into the other world and bumped into Cloud.

In the darkness of my eyelids, I saw Cloud's eyes again, sparkling up at me, saying my name softly in the dark of our night together.

I wept. It became a constant routine, crying on and off by just little triggers. By day, I was a depressed zombie. If not loitering around in a grey fog, then stuck in the past, especially since it was creeping up, growing inside me, apparently.

At night, I was a frantic mess, waking up gasping and sweaty. Having nightmares of Sephiroth coming after me, and dreams of Aerith always lying there on that altar, frozen in time of the seconds after her death. It was never anything else, like I was stuck there, in that long minute of her falling back, smiling.

I sobbed as I clasped my hands in prayer, and flicked my eyes up to the bathroom's ceiling.

"Please, please, help me get through this," I prayed through the tears. I wasn't sure if I was praying to Earth directly, to Gods, or what, but it gave me a trace of assertion to collect myself and get off the toilet.

By nightfall, the darkness came.

I laid there, our queen bed. My queen bed now.

And stared up at the ceiling. Even in the late of night, the noise of the city still flared through of all the windows I kept open, intentionally to keep the voices away. Sirens echoed, like wandering depressing phantoms singing high-pitched tones, searching endlessly through the tall world made up of nests and offices. As the sirens grew louder, I thought they were coming for me, but eventually, they would stop. And then, another ten minutes later, another would cry out. Whispers hung around, constantly reminding me that they were there until I could tune them out frequently.

I laid on my back, eyes open and sticky with old tears. And in the darkness, I just stared up, lost.

The ceiling.

Plain and dark. A tiny strip of silver and blue light cut through it, the city's lights slipping in from the curtains I didn't close all the way. I ended up gazing at the light, a glowing blue over a land of darkness.

Cloud's eyes came to mind. His hand held out, waiting for me to take it.

I did just that. Arising from under the comforter, my right arm reached up to the ceiling, hand open.

And waited.

In the dark, my long stretch of arm held, fingers waving up to the ceiling, finding his hand to take it. Maybe he will sense my longing, and reach, a portal to help guide him until our hands collided, two worlds finally connected.

I let my hand hang there for a long time, at least until my arm was too tired. My fingers weakened, curling naturally, trembling. When no other hand came, not Cloud's, not Aerith's. Nothing. My hand pulled back, and laid gently over the small ache in my belly.

No proof of where I went. Nothing but old scars and the child growing inside me, made by our love that existed for too short of a time, Cloud's and mine. What a wicked teaser the Gods can be, keeping me here like this.

Aerith.

A tiny ripple, like someone dragging a little feather along the inside of my belly, stiffened me until I clamped my throat shut, stopping the bump from forming there. I rolled on my side, sticky eyes washed again with fresh tears when I looked to Isaac's spot on the bed. It was easy to pretend he was stuck at work, on night shift, or out with friends. But I couldn't do this forever. Quickly, before I let the shadows of our past lurk too freely in our, I mean, my bedroom, I sat up and quickly scooted off the bed. The only simple contentment I could find came out of two things. One: being in my old clothes, all my cozy layers and warm socks, having my things where I left them. I shuffled my way into the too large of a kitchen, and flicked the oven lamp on, just enough light to bring an orange glow to it.

I made myself a cup of hot tea. As the kettle boiled, I sat on a stool, staring across the stainless-steel counter, and watched snow fall.

Slowly, I lifted my hand up to my face, fingers naturally curled. Warmth flowed into them, until a green light outlined my entire hand. In a grim world of no color, the most vibrant thing I have seen since returning home, began to slip off my fingers, little green ghost hands swirling around my palm and around my arm. A beautiful green that always brought me to Aerith's eyes.

The second and most important contentment to find in this world: I had magic. It never left, something that was inside me all along. The medications suppressed it, never giving me a chance to make such a discovery. I let my hand glow like a green lantern, mesmerized by its beauty as stainless steel reflected it, making the kitchen a mix of orange and green hues.

The city was strangely quiet all of a sudden, like time had stopped. I looked at the clock on the stove, and it flashed in green numbers: 01:01.

Even New York City had its moments of peaceful bliss, a few seconds of complete quiet, helped by the heavy snowfall. It came down heavily, thickening the streets and silencing the city to a hush, reminding everyone to take it easy, stay in their beds and dream a day of just quiet.

I rested my elbows on the counter, contemplating what I should do with myself. But a part of me already knew what that was, even when I didn't want to.

Even the Earth hinted it to me when I finally stopped ignoring its voices, trapped in a city of quiet with nowhere to go to escape.

You know what you need to do.

Indeed, I did. But it wasn't going to be easy.

I filled a heavy mug with hot water and plopped a black tea bag in it. And got to work. Through most of the night, I let myself sit on the kitchen counter with my laptop, passport and credit card next to me as I shuffled through websites of airlines.

It felt nostalgic to be surfing the web again, almost tempting to lose myself in the social media of it. I sipped my tea as I clicked through webpages, booking the earliest flight I could find. After purchasing a ticket, I hurriedly packed.

All the lights in the apartment turned on, and I slumped a leather duffle on the unmade bed, packing it quickly with underwear, socks, under layers, anything I could think of.

I scrambled into the bathroom and opened up the medicating cabinet. Behind the mirror, stood rows of orange bottles of medication. They all glared at me with their bright orange color, my name in bold print on their labels. Roughly, I grabbed at a bottle, the pills inside it rattling around in there, and just blinked down at it. These were all what I was supposed to take every morning for the rest of my life, to keep the voices away.

How little I knew back then.

I took all the pill bottles out and let them clatter inside the garbage bin, hiding the pile of pregnancy tests. The last to enter the bin was my packs of birth control pills before I lammed the lid shut.

By the time I was dressed in skinny grey jeans, a black turtleneck and beige wool coat, it was a little after four in the morning. I slipped on black ankle boots and lugged the leather bag over my shoulder, loitering around the front door. All lights off. All windows back to being shut. All curtains closed. Just like I was never there for the short time that I was.

I opened the door, the hallway's light casting a glow of hope into the place, and I gave a sad smile over my shoulder, to my little old home I shared with Isaac a long time ago.

I swallowed, unable to cry this time. The darkness beckoned me to return to its misery and temptations, where I could easily slip back into, but I knew I needed to leave. I needed to get away. Far, far away from here.

I walked through the door with my head held high, heading into the light, and left the apartment behind. Never to look back again.

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