I found out she's an angel
I don't think she knows I know
I'm worried that something might happen to me
If anybody ever finds out
Why, why did they send her over anyone else?
How should I react? These things happen to other people.
They don't happen at all, in fact.
--They Might Be Giants
Gray hued awareness slowly pushed him forward and dizzily he awoke from muffled unconsciousness. Everything hurt, that was no surprise but he was annoyed at how much it affected him. He'd learned long ago how to forge past the pain but those tactics seemed not to work anymore. Something about his current condition had overwhelmed his normally limitless reserve of strength. He was exhausted, tired of fighting the burning in his nerve endings and the cramps that shuddered through his body. It felt like he'd gone back in time somehow and he was that helpless child, unable to deal with the pain.
It was so warm, his cheeks burned with the heat of his fever. The world around him was blurry an indistinct. He was having trouble seeing and hearing, and all he could do was lay there, his head lolling back and forth. The anger came, how he hated feeling weak and vulnerable. He didn't care if it killed him, he'd get up and end this. This would be like any other injury in his past; he would fight it as he always had. Each breath came with difficulty as he tried to sit up, growling with annoyance when his body simply wouldn't obey. He struggled to force it to do his will, his mind screaming at his useless limbs to move. Gasping, he fell back onto the soft surface he was laying on, fatigued by that small amount of effort, he lay there breathing heavily as if he'd just completed a marathon.
His exhausted senses registered the sound of someone moving towards him, drawn to his side by the sounds of his waking. It made him pause, reflecting on what he could remember of the last moments before he collapsed. The girl. Narrowing his eyes, Sephiroth once more resumed his efforts to raise himself. He would not appear weak in front of her, the little witch. It pained him, but he forced his back to rise, his face contorting in agony as he tried to sit. His caretaker saw this and gave an amused chuckle. Sephiroth opened his eyes, aggravated that even something as simple as sitting up took such effort. Worse, that someone had seen that it'd taken effort and was amused by it. He fell back again, grunting in frustrated defeat, only managing to fix a brief, half-lidded glower at the one who mocked him so openly.
"Damn her..." he cursed inwardly, watching her watching him.
She looked down at him, her pretty face full of wry amusement at his predicament. He put all his remaining energy into a glare that would still her heart but instead, it came out looking more pathetic than threatening -- closer to a tired plea for help than anything else. This caused the girl's expression to soften and her smile became more sympathetic and less scornful. Which confused and angered Sephiroth. He didn't want her help much less her pity. He'd always relied on his will and his strength and despite his previous failures or perhaps because of them, he ordered his recalcitrant limbs to obey. Managing to pull himself up part way, nearly into a sitting position. Every muscle in his body objected to this, aching all at once. A sharp pain lanced through his skull as he pulled himself upwards, but he ignored it, past caring.
This girl was strange and she made him feel uncomfortable. It was like she could look through him somehow. The more time he spent in her presence, the more he noticed it. He thought that the connective feeling he'd experienced before had left, but it hadn't. It only seemed to strengthen and it frightened him, though he'd never admit it to the girl who sat in front of him. He was tired and he couldn't pin point his feelings adequately but...she seemed to be hiding something. She had been telling the truth about not being the cause of whatever had connected them, but she did know something. And for reasons unknown, she held this back. A mysterious aura surrounded her, so bright he could almost see it. He was aware that he was suffering from a terrible fever and maybe he was just delusional, imaging things that weren't there. Yet, he got the distinct impression that underneath her fair exterior lay a well of untapped power.
Maybe she didn't know...but how could she not? She was naive...as he debated this, a wave of sudden nausea overwhelmed him and any other thoughts had abruptly ceased. Sephiroth closed his eyes to ward it off, feeling miserable and angry with himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her hands on his chest. She had seen his discomfort and to his complete surprise, she'd taken it upon herself to aid him once more. Her touch was feather light, undemanding, as she guided his wavering form back to his sick bed. He would have struck out at her, pushed her away, but he was far too exhausted and weak. Instead, he begrudgingly accepted her assistance. Allowing her to guide him down to rest on the sleeping bag underneath him--he had little choice in the matter after all. He was entirely dependant on her and it enraged and frustrated him to realize this. There was no way for him to stop her. He couldn't even stop himself from showing his frustration, as his emotions flickered freely on his face. He struggled against her hold; it was the only small way he had to protest what she was doing to him. It was pure spite that drove him now, and it didn't matter to him how many times he failed. He would not let her win.
Her hand still resting on his chest, she gazed at him with obvious empathy and inexplicably, he stilled his movement to gaze back at her. She spoke to him in a motherly tone that was commanding and gentle at the same time. "Stop fighting me.... You need to rest."
Their eyes had locked and at first he favored her with a look of confusion. This melted and burned into a more sour expression. His eyes blazing with contempt for the girl, letting all his anger seep through them. Directing all the hate he had at her. The expression only made him look more haggard, highlighting the bruised circles under his eyes and the deathly lack of color in his cheeks. This only made things worse. She gave him a pained look of open pity, a small, sad sigh escaping her lips. His lip curled slightly into a snarl. He wished he could slap that expression off her face. "Damn her"...he cursed again, before tearing his gaze away from hers.
She shook her head at this and turned to grab a wet washcloth. Noticing the slick of sweat over his fevered brow, and knowing that his temperature had to be kept down. With a welcoming smile, she turned back to him and began to wipe his face with it. The coolness of the towel against his heated flesh was sweet relief, despite the fact that it was the girl who held it. The girl who was once again helping him. For a while, he refused to acknowledge her, stubbornly staring at the wall of the tent. As he did, it occurred to him that he'd collapsed outside and he wondered briefly how he'd come to be here. She must have...the thought startled him and he turned back to gaze at her. Sephiroth watched her carefully, his eyes widening with wonder at this slip of a girl. He didn't understand her in the least and he was discomfited that she'd show him kindness, in spite of his harsh treatment of her. She seemed to not notice this, preferring to hum quietly to herself as she worked.
His eyes never left her, not trusting that she meant him no harm, because no one had touched him who didn't hurt him in some way. He stared disbelievingly at her compassion, confused by the lack of malice in her movement. The way she touched him was unlike anything he'd experienced before; so different from the way almost everyone had ever treated him. Towel in hand, she gently wiped his cheeks. The soft fabric smoothing the flesh, clearing it of the sticky heat that covered it and replacing discomfort with cool relief. She moved to his forehead, he could feel her small fingers through the fabric of the towel. From his forehead, she moved to his caress his brow, then his nose and finally his lips. He blinked, his heart was beating furiously, out of fear and another emotion that he quickly strangled and buried before he could acknowledge it.
It was then that she chose to notice he had been watching her like a hawk. Her hand slipped from his cheek, where she last rested the ceaselessly moving towel, to his neck and he shivered at the contact. He wished that she would stop, even lowering himself to beg the gods above to make her stop. The girl gave him another smile; this one was warmer and more genuine than the others she gave him. With great tenderness, she reached up and pushed back his matted hair before continuing her ministrations.
What he saw in her eyes startled him, she understood--somehow she knew how uncomfortable this made him. And with her eyes, she apologized that she had to do this to him, with her eyes she told him this was necessary. He didn't care, his own eyes lighting with venom that she'd continue to do what caused him obvious discomfort. Her hands were all over him, and she was always so damned gentle. Who was she? Why was she...Damn her, what gave her the right to do this to him? These questions ran through his mind, setting it on fire with righteous indignation. It was now more than a mere wish, he wanted her to stop and if he had the strength, he would have made her. Her touch was repugnant to him and he was tormented now, because it was also pleasurable. It was too much for him to bear and he was unable to slap her hands away, so he tried another tactic.
"S-Stop it..." he meant it to come out as a direct order, to have all the cold malice in his voice that he'd normally muster. Instead, it came out low and pathetically weak, and he cursed himself once more.
She shook her head with a light, dismissive laugh. As if to say, 'You couldn't stop me, even if you wanted to'.
His consciousness slipped, his vision irised out in a hexfield of black nothingness. The world continued on without him and through his half sleep he could still hear it but was happily unable to react. Birds sang. The trees rustled in the wind. The girl moved quietly beside him, the pleasantly monotonous sound of a grinding stone accompanying her every movement. Curious, he opened his eyes into lidded slits, looking at her with wet, bleary eyes. Her form was a blob of shapes and after a moment, his vision focused and he could see her more clearly. She had a mortar and pestle in hand and was furiously grinding its contents, completely absorbed in the action. Her task took so much of her concentration that she didn't even notice his attention.
The girl's face scrunched up as she ground a particularly hard bit of the contents into a fine powder. Her brows were furrowed and she stuck her tongue out one side of her mouth, as if it helped in an immensely difficult task. Something much harder than grinding a root into powder. He found it amusing in his semi-delirious state and a rare smile appeared on his face, along with an even rarer laugh--albeit a very tired one. She heard the noise, as quiet as he had meant to be, and her head snapped over in his direction. Noticing his amusement, she at first gave him an annoyed scowl which turned into a playful smile, followed by her sticking her tongue back out at him. He chortled, his eyes lazily closing as he fell back into sleep. Unsure if he'd actually laughed at the girl or if he'd just dreamed it.
He wavered like this for hours. Between wakefulness and dreams. Reality seemed so far away, the hazy nightmare world of his normal dreaming mind sometimes returned. But more often he was drawn into the more pleasant realm of paradise, that place where the angel resided. At one point, he woke and looked up at the girl. Fully aware that it was the girl and not the angel he dreamt of but it seemed they had melded together somehow. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't separate the idea of the girl and the angel. Finally just deciding that the girl was an angel. She had to be...it was either that or she was crazy. Who else would be so kind to someone who'd hours earlier tried to kill her? His plain answer was, only an angel.
Content with his answer, he let himself fall into dreams. Long periods of comforting sleep followed, broken by the occasional moment of consciousness. The whole day passed like the fragmented skipping of a record or a movie reel that had been unwound, and left to spin uselessly on the projector. The welcome melody of light and sound played on the black canvas of sleep and was interrupted by hiccupping images. Every time he woke the scene would change and it would take an unwelcome amount of time for him to adjust. In that time, he'd end up just passing back out before accomplishing anything useful.
Most always, the girl was there, mixing whatever potions or draughts she busied herself with making. He was unsure whether or not to trust her still. If she was an angel, he was a demon. Why would she help him? Who sent her? Questions that would remain, for now, unanswered. Though he was still alive and that counted for something. Sometimes he woke to find her just watching him, with a look of concern on her face. Other times she was tending to his wounds, wiping his face and chest with that incredible gentleness of hers. It unnerved him, in truth, the whole situation unnerved him. Once she'd leaned so far over him that he got a good look down her shirt.
His face remained impassive and he kept his eyes lidded so she wouldn't notice he was awake. It was a welcome sight and he didn't want her outrage to interrupt it. The brief view had stirred feelings in him that had been awoken by precious few. Even if he had feelings for other women in the past, it wasn't like he could have acted on them. He had been watched every minute of his day; a specially assigned ShinRa guard was always at his side. Making sure that he kept on task, his whereabouts relayed to Hojo every ten minutes. He was an expensive specimen and ShinRa couldn't afford to lose him. The assigned guards had been instructed to keep women away from him, especially ones considered desirable. If he were to breed, Hojo wanted it to be with a mate of his choosing--not the boy's. The very idea made Sephiroth sick to his stomach. The mad scientist probably thought of breeding him like a stud with insane glee. But he was free now...the thought made him smile, if only just a bit.
Her graceful neck craned and she bent further forward, apparently reaching for something. She was close enough for him to really get a good look at her. Long tendrils of honey brown hair fell over her shoulder, the slight scent of roses wafting off her. He could feel her supple curves as she leaned into him, her breasts pressing against him and he cursed the unnatural sickness that he could do nothing but watch. It was with great effort that he forced himself to think about anything but the beautiful woman above him. "Temptress", he thought dully before passing out again.
Many hours later he woke again, having slept through most of the morning and afternoon. The sun was starting to sink low in the sky, giving the ambient light a pleasant amber hue. The girl was nowhere to been seen and he was half relieved, half disappointed. As sleep fled his body he was pleased to note that he felt much better. It irritated him that the girl had been telling the truth. He'd never liked being wrong.
Sitting up a wave of pain and nausea hit him. Closing his eyes, he struggled to maintain his sitting position. Wavering back and forth in the tent as he breathed in and out slowly, beating back the urge to fall back onto the sleeping bag. Yes, he felt better but he was obviously still quite unwell. He lifted a hand and rubbed his temples, taking one last long, calming breath. Before long the feeling passed and he was able to regain his bearings. He was still weary and his mind still blurred by fever and sleep, but more awake than he'd been in hours. Quietly he regarded his surroundings, noticing the once neat rows of bottles were in complete disarray. With some pain he managed to lean over and examine them. Picking up one of the darker bottles that caught his eye.
It was a smallish glass bottle, deep blue in color. He could see the contents inside, the liquid sloshing against the side and darkening the already midnight blue almost black. There was no label, only a small symbol written in marker on the cap. How did she tell what was in the bottle? He frowned, wondering what in the hell she kept in them anyway. With a shrug, he intended to find out. Not having any qualms about poking his nose into another's things. Her personal privacy meant little in his pursuit to determine her to be an enemy.
He opened the bottle and peered inside; dissatisfied that he couldn't tell what the liquid looked like. It was either clear or it absorbed the dark blue of the bottle as the light reflected through it. Furrowing his brows, he lifted the bottle to his nose and sniffed it. He was rewarded by the foulest odor he'd ever smelt. Coughing and shaking his head he quickly capped it. Carefully holding it by the cap between his finger and thumb, he replaced the bottle. Not concerned about its exact placement. Besides, it wasn't like she could tell that he moved it, what with the mess. Just as his fingers left the bottle, he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter. Female laughter.
The girl sat in the doorway of the tent with a wide smile on her face. All the time that delightful laugh of hers danced from her lips like music. He froze and just stared at her with the most incredulous expression he could muster. Trying very hard to mask his awe of her, amazed that she could be any more beautiful than she already was. No. He wouldn't succumb to her. This was a clever trick meant to confuse him. He crushed his thoughts; his will froze solid all it touched, any human attributes in him fled as glacial ice replaced it. The wonderment seeped from his face and he fixed the coldest glare possible on her. To his utter befuddlement and complete irritation, it only seemed to amuse her more.
"Good morning to you too, General Grumpy Pants. Done rifling through my belongings or should I leave you alone to finish?"
He said nothing, drawing himself up to increase the menace of his presence. His arms folded over his bare chest as he continued to glower at her. She shrugged, the same irritatingly cheerful smile on her face. Without ceremony, she moved into the tent and immediately set about fixing her bottles. She knelt next to him, her unnatural grace evident in every movement. It was fascinating to just watch as her hands flickered over the bottles, rearranging them. Gathering several in one hand, she was able to sort through them in a matter of seconds. Whispering to herself the entire time, completely ignoring him while she worked. She barely spared him a glance. He had tried to continue glaring at her but soon gave up, as she really wasn't paying attention to him any longer. Though it did infuriate him that she was oblivious to his contempt for her. Most people would have cleared out by now. They'd tremble and shake, sputtering about coming back later before nearly tripping over themselves as they left.
This girl was either hopelessly stupid or fearless. He guessed it was the later rather than the former. After all, mixing potions took some amount of skill and intelligence. He didn't know much about pharmacology or herbal remedies but he knew enough that it wasn't something any moron off the street could do. It took years of training and an at least passing knowledge of botany to do it well. He wasn't overly impressed but it did mean he wasn't dealing with a simpleton. That left the only other choice; she had no fear of him. Which was crazy. He tried to kill her for god's sake! Once again he was wondering who she was...what she was. That theory about her being an angel now seemed less like a delusional fever dream and more like absolute truth. And while he pondered this, she worked without pause. Checking the tops of the bottles as she organized. She lighted on the bottle he'd curiously opened. Examining the top, she made a little hmmph noise before going back to work. This drew back his attention.
"What did that mean?" He asked, trying not to sound too curious.
"Hmmm...wha?" She replied, looking up from her work with detached confusion.
"That little grunt. You looked at that bottle and grunted. Why?" He demanded, pointing at the bottle in an accusatory manner.
She smiled mysteriously, obviously teasing him again, "Curiosity killed the cat, General."
She knew who he was, it was the second time she'd used his former title. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, ".... or maybe you did."
"Ah. You still think I'm trying to kill you?" She said with a light laugh.
"Yes. What's in the bottle?"
"Burdock. Very foul smelling but harmless." She said, pausing at his doubtful glance. It seemed he wanted more information and she acquiesced to his unspoken command, "It's an herb that helps purify the blood of toxins. It's hard to find in this area. Even harder to prepare. You have to boil the roots and leaves in specially prepared spring water for four hours before it's ready to strain and bottle. Lucky for you, I know where to look and what to do."
"Why lucky for me?"
She gave him that mysterious smile again and turned back to her work. He was too fascinated by this girl now to be annoyed that she hadn't answered his question. He heard the clinking of glass as she put the bottles away, her pack rustling as she exchanged contents. To his horror, she drew out a small syringe. He stared at it, following her hand as she placed it inside a small vial. Watching with increasing rage and terror as she drew the fluid into the syringe. Turning, the girl held it up to her eyes and thumped the side lightly. As she did this, her gaze briefly shifted to him. Noticing the look of terrified fury on his face and how his eyes fixated on the syringe. She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. ShinRa's greatest general...afraid of a tiny little syringe? The though might have been amusing but for the fact that he seemed truly horror-struck and disgusted by the thing. Like it was a symbol of a memory he didn't wish to relive. Clearing her throat, she drew his gaze away from the object of terror and to her. She held the syringe up and placed it flat on her palm.
"No needle." She said in an attempt to mollify him, "I don't use it for injections into people. Herbal medicine doesn't work that way."
He relaxed; embarrassed that she'd noticed his discomfort. Covering this slip in his facade, he questioned her in as rough a tone as he could manage, "What do you use it for?"
"For more exact liquid measurement." She replied, rather matter-of-factly.
He seemed satisfied with the answer and she went back to mixing her potion. His eyes were on her back the entire time and he carefully watched her every movement. Waiting for her to do something that revealed her ill intent. Nothing happened, except that the sun set lower in its cradle and the light in the tent faded with it. He felt weariness as it creeped back into his bones and the urge to lie down became stronger with every minute that passed. Again, he was aggravated that not only had she told the truth but she was right. The poison he'd been injected with pumped through his system when he moved.
Just being upright, watching her had been enough to send a surge of the toxin through his system. Already he could feel the heat return to his cheeks and a light fire burnt his nerve endings. He was so tired but he was a fighter and this was the last time he'd show weakness in front of this girl. So he pretended he didn't hurt and tried to move as he would normally, despite the burning pain in every joint. She started to hum as she worked again. Whatever it was that she'd been mixing, it was clear that she was nearly done and he could tell by the contented way she worked. Like she was glad the task was over. She had stopped her once constant motion and pulled out a marker, writing on the top of the tiny bottle. With a grin, she held it up and shook it for ten minutes straight. Not stopping, she glanced over at him and smiled brightly.
"Almost done." she said, unconcerned that he didn't answer her, "You have a decision to make now, you know." Again, no answer, "I mean, now that you're conscious...it's only fair..."
"So had I still been passed out...you would have given...whatever that is to me without my consent?" He snapped, appalled and angered by her flippant attitude.
"Yes. You're poisoned quite badly. I'd have little choice. Unless you'd rather I leave you to die." Which at that moment, she had kind of wished she'd done.
He snorted and looked away, "So what's this decision I have to make?"
"The potion I've mixed is called essen..."
"I don't care what it's called. Get to the point." he cut her off, his eyes glowing brightly in the encroaching dark.
"The potion I've mixed is called ESSENCE OF FIRE VEIL." She said as loudly as possible, letting him know that she wouldn't let him push her around. He said nothing but he did give her one of his now classic glares. She thought of naming them just to piss him off. "Since you're so paranoid, I can give you a run down of the ingredients if you'd like."
"That won't be necessary. Just tell me what it does."
"Fine. There are two ways to treat poisoning of this kind. One is the way I've been using so far, with a light poultice changed twice daily. It's effective, but very slow. By my estimations it'll take weeks for it to work."
He rolled his eyes and yawned to demonstrate his boredom, "...and the other?"
"The second way is this." She said, her lips thinned as she fought her rising ire. Holding up the vial for examination, "Made from a similar toxin, this will run through your system in a night and purge it of the poison. But...there are some risks associated with it."
"Those would be what?" He interrupted her, again.
Fully annoyed, she retorted, "Well, if you'd shut up for five minutes, maybe I'd be able to tell you!" She waited and when he said nothing, she continued, "Essence of fire veil contains an herb commonly referred to as fireweed, sometimes called belladonna. It's a highly potent poison. There is a slight chance if mixed improperly it can cause instant, painful death."
"That's comforting. Are you trying to convince me that you're not trying to kill me? Because you're doing a terrible job."
She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they burned with fury, "You know. I don't have to take this crap. I've done nothing but help you...and all you've done is make my life miserable. I've sat around in the middle of nowhere for three whole days...tending to your sorry ass and this is the thanks I get? I could be in Kalm by now. In a nice hotel room with a bed and room service. Instead, I'm stuck with you. I haven't had a proper bath in days...my hair looks like hell and no matter how hard I try, I still stink like campfire. Sleeping outside on the hard ground. Listening to your paranoid ramblings...well, I've had it. To hell with you...." She shouted, grabbing her pack and stumbling towards the tent's exit.
"Where are you going?"
"Away from you." she snapped, so angry that she was having a hard time unzipping the tent flap, "That way you can enjoy your nice, slow death on your own."
The zipper was firmly stuck. Mocking her with its inability to move upward and let her out. She let out a frustrated grunt, her emotions boiling over as a few stray tears slipped from her eyes. The planet wasn't exactly right but there was credence to its claim. The man was difficult, an obstinate jerk that lived to mock her it seemed. Like the zipper mocked her. She was sure he was laughing silently at her frustration right now. HA!HA! Look at the silly girl. Crying and blubbering because she can't get the damned door opened. The best part is watching her face as she struggles. It makes laughing at her pain that much funnier.
The thought made her so angry, so upset that she barely felt his hand touch hers. It wasn't till she looked down that she noticed it. Swallowing hard, she stared at it for a moment in complete confusion. The first thing she noticed was how big his hand was. How it covered hers almost entirely. Her eyes left his hand and traveled up his arm to look him in the eye. The second thing she noticed was how close he was to her and the fact that he had no shirt on. She could feel his skin as it rubbed against her shoulder. His face was so close to hers. He could just lean over and...Aeris shook her head. This was no time for silly thoughts like that but she couldn't stop the blush in her cheeks, nor could she help but look away to hide her embarrassment. He drew her hand up, gently prying her fingers from the bottle she still held in her hand. Before he took it from her, his hand lingered on hers, thumb lightly caressing her hand as he retrieved the bottle from her grasp.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay..." she replied in a breathless whisper.
He hadn't intended to do that. To come so close to the girl and encourage that bit of delicious physical contact but it had happened. And he wondered why. Again, she had to be some kind of angel. Because despite her obvious frustration with him, she still stayed. After that rather fearless dressing down, listing all the reasons why she didn't have to help him...she still stayed. And all it took was a touch. What power did he have over her to do that? More importantly, what power did she have over him? He had never apologized to anyone, ever. Even when he should have. He was still suspicious of her, yet he apologized, not wanting her to leave. How had she done this to him? Why? He grabbed the bottle and moved away from her. Being that close evoked too many emotions that were foreign to him. Things he was unprepared to act on and though she seemed willing. He was unsure of her motives. A lifetime of mistrust and a fear of his own humanity kept him from crossing that barrier that separated him from her. He set his mask of cold indifference back in place, becoming businesslike again.
"So, what are the risks?"
She rubbed her cheek with her hand, clearing her throat before answering him in a shaky voice, "Um....besides what I mentioned before. There are side effects. The cure is in some ways worse than the cause. Expect many of the same symptoms you've been experiencing...only more powerful. Especially the joint pain and the cramps. It'll be excruciating. I was planning on giving you a sleep aide, to knock you out during treatment. The potion takes about twelve hours to work...so..."
"How do you take it?"
"Just drink it...it tastes kinda bad though. Sorry."
He shrugged and drank it down without a flicker of emotion. She was impressed, most people would spit a potion with burdock in it out the first time. That's why she'd fixed up two servings of the stuff.
"Do...do you want the sleeping draught I made. It'll make the pain easier. You won't even remember it."
Sephiroth looked at her blankly, not saying a word before laying down and turning his back to her. She guessed that was a no. The next few hours would be hard for him and she dearly wished he'd reconsider. This was a man who listened to his own advice and only did things if he wanted to do them. Other people's opinions were clearly of little interest to him. She wondered why he had stopped her. What had been going through his head from the moment he rebuffed her to the moment he stopped her with his hand? Most likely she'd never know. Though she really wished she did, and at this, she blushed. Remembering how close he'd been to her. The feel of his warm body against her own, and how pouty his lips were. How kissable...She mentally slapped herself. Not the time. Not the time. She repeated ad infinitum. Busying herself with a million different tasks as she waited for the potion to take effect.
The tonic worked with astonishing speed. His head barely hit the pillow and less than ten seconds later the agony had already begun. Pain, the likes of which he hadn't felt in ages rent his fatigued nerves asunder. His blood felt as if it had turned to lava, burning its way through his body. It reminded him of the mako treatments he'd gotten when he was a child. The pain he felt now was so similar to his memories of his past, the kind of agony that left him exhausted and wishing for death.
He was more prepared for it now than he was then. There were no tears, no sound to accompany his suffering. He accepted it as a part of life and as such, he laid back and took it. Let it wash over him, it was only his body that hurt after all. His mind was a million miles away, hidden behind a tiny door in his head. Another device he'd created to survive his brutal childhood. Dissociating from his body, from himself, to make the pain easier to bear. Through the pain, he knew that the angel was near. He could feel her, the warmth she seemed to radiate never left his side. There was surprise that his childhood prayers had finally been answered but no celebration would come of the thought.
The fever that had pursued him so fervently returned. His cheeks flared angry red and sweat didn't just slick his skin, it poured down it. He was barely aware of his surroundings. In this state, he was unaware that he'd begun to tremble; all that he could feel was the startling discomfort that seemed to have no end. His body was very close to complete shutdown. Death was closing in on him. The girl chose this moment to notice him. She'd been bustling about, cleaning up and hadn't noticed that he'd taken a turn for the worse.
He felt her turn him over. Tormenting him with her gentleness. She resumed caring for him as she had before. Wiping his brow, clearing it of sweat. Wetting his pale lips with cool water. All in the name of cooling his fever down, to save his life and when that didn't work, she cast a very low-level ice spell. Exerting a control that even he lacked when using materia. He could feel the air temperature in the tent drop. It felt good but gods, why did she do it? He'd have preferred to lay here in his own sweat, fighting the pain as he always had. Alone. He reached out, hand grasping the air in a futile attempt to stop her. She paused in her casting but didn't leave him alone, favoring him with a small smile. Laying down her weapon, she caught his outstretched hand with her own. She held it fast, guiding it back onto the sleeping bag but not letting it go.
For the next twelve hours she sat next to him, his hand tightly clasped in her own. Only breaking contact with him long enough to cast another ice spell, keeping the temperature of the tent constantly cool. As the hours passed, his fever abated but his pain continued. Despite her own fatigue and the frigid temperature, she didn't leave his side. Kneeling in the same spot for hours, holding his hand and lightly stroking it occasionally while she watched over him. He tried to stay awake to keep an eye on her and it worked for a while. Staring at her through half closed eyes, glittering with pain and with each moment, it became harder for him to hold them open. The effort was too much and eventually, he had no choice but to close his lids and let sleep take him. His eyes fluttered and he slipped into sleep, for the first time he was happy to surrender to it and unafraid of the dreams that would come.
Aeris watched him struggle, wishing he'd just stop being a stubborn ass and accept the help offered to him. It would have been easier for him if he had just taken the sleeping draught. He would have slept soundly, any pain he felt would have been forgotten in the deep abyss of sleep. But he hadn't even given thought to it; he just took the potion without a word. Like he had some insane desire to prove that he wasn't weak or maybe he just didn't like sleeping. Either way it was weird. Because no one enjoyed that much pain, no matter how much they pretended they did.
Even he wasn't immune to the suffering the potion caused. It didn't show in his face but she could feel it. And it wasn't like he enjoyed her helping him, and he had to know that if push came to shove she would. In fact, she knew he wanted her to stop. As evidenced by his futile attempt to stop her casting. There was more to it than that. She could feel it, how uncomfortable he was. He wanted her to leave him alone, to let him suffer in peace. Once more she mentally remarked on his silliness for not taking the out she'd offered him.
Well, what he wanted didn't matter anymore. He was her patient and his care was her responsibility now. She wouldn't leave, especially considering how close to death he was. She was worried; terrified that she might have mixed the potion wrong. Maybe she'd added too much belladonna. Even a small amount over the suggested limit was enough to kill a man. Albeit very, very slowly. His fever worsened and it took everything in her to keep herself calm enough to think clearly. She'd never treated a critical patient like him. There came a horrible point at which she knew there was nothing else she could do but sit and wait. So that's what she did. Her knees hurt from sitting, her legs were falling asleep, and she was tired. Yet she sat there, holding his hand and waiting to see if he'd pull through. She prayed that he would and as the hours passed, his condition slowly improved. Smiling as she stroked his hand, watching color return to his face.
Several more hours passed and she found it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head bobbed and she shook her head suddenly to throw off her exhaustion. She shifted her hand, moving it to a more comfortable position. Glancing down at his hand she noticed something she hadn't before. Light blackish markings on his wrist. His right hand wrist. She shivered, remembrances of the short time she spent in the ShinRa labs coming back to her. Could he?
She turned his wrist over to examine it and gasped when she saw the line of familiar numbers imprinted upon it. They were different from her own and much darker. The tech she'd gotten had been kind. Making her tattoo quite small, taking extra care to make sure it was unnoticeable. They obviously hadn't taken the same care with him. She ran her fingers over it, her brows furrowing. Not only had they given him a large set of ugly black numbers on his wrist but...the skin wasn't smooth. As if to test the theory, she removed the bracelets she used to cover her tattoo and ran her own fingers over it. Perfectly smooth. Her fingers returned to his wrist, noting the bumpiness of the flesh. How it was puckered as if it'd been burned.
She looked from it to him, whispering to herself quietly as realization hit her, "Oh my god."
They hadn't just tattooed him; they'd branded him, searing the numbers into his skin so that removal would be near impossible. It was bad enough being marked as one of their test subjects or a research specimen. But he was more than that to the ShinRa. He was a specimen and their personal property. Marked like a chocobo that was set to slaughter. The pieces fell together. Why he might be out here in the condition he was in. She suddenly remembered the bullets she'd pulled out of him. Quickly she let go of his hand, sliding over to her pack and rifling through it till she found the pocket she'd placed the bullets in. Digging one out, she examined it and her suspicion proved correct. He'd escaped from ShinRa's laboratory. They'd pursued him but he'd gotten away. Probably killed a bunch of people to do it. All that blood he was covered in, there was no way it was all his own.
She was afraid of him but now more afraid of ShinRa. They'd be looking for him and they wouldn't take anyone helping him too kindly. Swallowing hard, she put the bullet away and regarded her patient. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? The PHS crackling to life startled her out of her reverie and she jumped, letting out a loud squeak of surprise. The thing kept going off and Aeris furiously dug deep in her pack till she found it. Wincing as the thing screeched, the voice on the other line constantly repeating one message.
"Kalm Central Dispatch calling unit sixteen-forty-two sierra, do you copy? Over."
Aeris blinked a couple of times, not entirely understanding the strange code they used. She fumbled with the controls for a minute before finding the correct button and pressing it. Looking at it uncertainly, she answered back, confusion coloring her voice, "Um....Aeris Gainsborough here...um...over?"
"Say again? Over."
"Um...Aeris Gainsborough...My name is Aeris Gainsborough...over..." She said, still puzzled, her voice entering realms of sarcasm she was unaware she possessed. What the hell did Kalm Central...whatchamacallit want with her anyway? She could hear the other person on the line talking with someone else, their conversation probably muffled by the caller's hand.
"Yes, Miss Gainsborough. Good to hear from you. We have a situation report request from your guide, Randy Giles. Just checking up to see how you're doing. Over."
"Uh...fine." Aeris replied, shrugging and grimacing at the device as if it could sense her confusion, "Um...how are you?"
"Stand-by."
"Okay." Several minutes passed before the radio erupted again.
"Miss Gainsborough, last reports indicate you had stayed behind to treat a lone causality. Request a situation report on the victim. Over."
Aeris froze, now it made sense, why they called her. She'd never been a good liar but...she said, tersely, "Yes. He's fine."
"Is he still there? Our information indicates he wasn't a part of your tour group. We need confirmation of his location. Over."
"No. No, he's not here anymore. He left just today. Is there a problem?" She lied, praying to the gods that they bought it.
"No, everything is fine Miss Gainsborough. Did you see which direction he might have gone? Over."
"To the east I think. Are you sure there's nothing wrong? He's not in trouble, is he?" she asked, trying to draw out information from the operator.
"No. No problem at all Miss. Just wanted to notify his relatives. A team is inbound for your location. Should arrive in a day or two. Anything we can do for you till then, Miss Gainsborough? Over."
"Nope. I'm fine. It's all fine here. Anything I can do for you?"
A chuckle came from the other end of the radio, "No, thanks for asking. Sit tight. We'll see you in a couple of days. Over and out."
"Yeah, thanks...over and out...and stuff."
The PHS dropped from her hands as she stared out into space, her gaze steely. A fight had been brought to her doorstep and now she had to choose which way to go. She could leave right now. The potion she'd given him had worked and he'd be fine on his own. But that would mean leaving him to the ShinRa. She turned her head and watched him as he slept. If she helped him it'd make completing her own mission harder. It would mean that they'd be pursued, running from place to place. A pair of fugitives.
Even the planet agreed with her, that she couldn't let ShinRa take him back. In fact, it seemed insistent that she not allow them to recapture him. This coming from the same being that wanted her to leave him for dead just hours ago. She thought of questioning the planet but decided it wasn't worth her time. There was probably a very good reason and she didn't care what it was, at least not right now. All she knew was that it offered to help, it agreed with her and that was enough.
She had a day to plan, maybe more. They'd probably called the Turks in, and in that case, it meant that they'd be tracked by the best. Her mind raced as she came up with a loose plan. It would take most of the next day to set it up, and it probably wouldn't work. But what could she do? She was just a flower girl, tactics and strategy was hardly within her realm of expertise. The planet would help...but. Aeris sighed and lay next to her patient, determined to get at least a few hours sleep before she had to face the next day.
"You're more trouble than you're worth." She whispered as she glanced at Sephiroth one last time before closing her eyes.
Author's Note--
This chapter is dedicated to Ardwynna Morrigu. That scene with him looking down her shirt. It's all for you, baby. --grins--