Elmyra hummed to herself quietly as she chopped gysahl root and pashana bulbs. The day was mild and soothing, perfect for cooking and contemplation—and for putting off the last of the unpacking. It was such a lazy, warm morning that Marlene managed to play quietly rather than running up and down the stairs.
The meaty broth for stew came to a boil, just in time for Elmyra to toss the cubed vegetables in. She turned to the fridge to grab seasoning herbs, and put them on the counter. After setting the broth to simmer, she got to work mincing the herbs.
Mom. Please don't cry.
Elmyra gasped audibly, spinning on her heels to face the gentle, familiar voice. However, the kitchen was empty. Letting out shaky breaths, Elmyra leaned against the counter, rubbing her face as she steadied herself. A sense of impending dread pounded through her chest, she had been so certain she had heard her daughter…
But she was alone.
After shaking off the sensation, Elmyra went back to her work. Her head raised when she heard a knock at the front door. "Just one moment!" The layout of the house was anything but convenient, and she nearly bumped into Marlene on the stairs. "Marlene!" she said sharply. "I told you never to answer the door."
"I just wanna see…" Marlene followed Elmyra to the ground floor.
Elmyra peered through the door's peephole and smiled brightly. "Reeve, this is a surprise," she greeted him warmly as she opened the door. "We didn't expect you back so soon. You didn't call…" Her smile faded as she took in his expression.
"Hello, El…" He trailed off, his voice drying in his throat. Elmyra was used to seeing Reeve looking tired and like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but this level of haggard was new. His eyes had dark circles under them and a weary redness, and strands of his black hair slid forward, making him look unkempt in comparison to his usual, calculated professionalism. One hand rested in his pocket, the other anxiously tugged at his tie. "Uh…May I—May I come in?"
A creeping chill climbed up Elmyra's spine and gripped her throat. "O-Of course," she said softly, moving aside. She shut the door after him as he slowly walked in. "Reeve is…" Her eyes darted to Marlene and back to him. "Is everything okay with Mr. Wallace?"
Reee's dark eyes turned to the floor, swallowing hard. "He's fine," he mumbled. "I…Elmyra, I…"
Elmyra felt the air grow heavy, pushing on her shoulders. The voice in the kitchen echoed in her mind. "Reeve. Please…Please don't…"
"I'm…I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Aerith…"
"Don't," she pleaded, shaking her head. "No."
Several times Reeve opened his mouth to speak, only for little more than dry sounds to eke out. He again only murmured, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Elmyra knew. She already knew. An incoherent sound burst from her, and she shook her head wildly. "No! No, don't say it…!" Her hands fumbled, gripping Reeve's lapels as a surge of sobbing overtook her.
Reeve kept saying he was sorry, Marlene was begging for them to explain themselves, but no one was around Elmyra. They were miles away. Sliding to the floor, Elmyra felt wails wracking her entire body. Hands on her shoulders guided her, brought her to the sofa, but she could feel little more than shadows of sensation.
Nothing was right. She wasn't supposed to go. The Lifestream didn't deserve Aerith.
Reeve draped a blanket over Elmyra once she had cried herself to exhaustion, rubbing her shoulder gently as she slept on the couch. While in slumber her brow tightened and her breath came out in fluttering sighs. Sleep would likely be difficult for her for a long time to come.
Drained from the emotions of the last hour and a half, Reeve stood and patted Marlene on the top of her head. She looked up at him with red eyes, clutching the stuffed Cait Sith in a vise.
"I'm going to the balcony," he whispered to Marlene. "Do you want to stay here?"
Her lip trembling subtly, Marlene leaned her head against Elmyra and nodded.
Wordlessly, Reeve nodded in reply, then made the trek to the top floor. The stairs had never felt like such a slog before.
Something in the kitchen smelled good. Seeing the stovetop on in the kitchen, he turned it off and moved the pot off the heat. Not even thinking, he then reached in the pantry beside the oven. With the kitchen necessities he had helped purchase for Elmyra and Marlene was a bottle of his personal favorite whiskey. Reeve hadn't planned on taking any for himself when he had originally given it to Elmyra, but he was unable to stem the urge to pull it out, along with a glass. Trudging to the balcony, he stared out over the view from the fourth floor.
Far, far in the distance, far beyond the sweeping, rolling plains leading to Kalm was the deep slope of the Midgar basin. A speck on the horizon, Reeve could just barely make out the Shinra tower and the undeniably barren, dreary, cracked earth around the city.
Taking a seat in one of the chairs on the balcony, he poured himself a drink. He idly sipped it, his mind a dull fog. His work phone was on silent, but he could feel it vibrating in his pocket. Reeve had given no warning for his disappearance that day, and it would have been too difficult to explain to any of his subordinates why he needed personal time to mourn an alleged terrorist's death.
Tiny, hesitant footfalls in the kitchen caused him to turn his head. "You can come over, Marlene," Reeve said.
Absent her plush, Marlene stepped onto the balcony and heaved herself into the chair next to his.
"Where's Cait?" he asked gently.
"He's protecting Miss Elmyra," Marlene said.
Reeve forced a smile. At least some version of Cait Sith could protect someone. Swallowing hard and clearing his throat, he managed to fight back the lump threatening his composure. "How…How are you doing, Marlene?"
Marlene rubbed her eyes and sniffed loudly.
"It's…It's okay to not know how to feel," Reeve offered softly. "You didn't really know Aerith. But you know her mother…You care a lot about Miss Elmyra, don't you?"
Marlene nodded.
"She's very lucky to have you here," he said. "She ne—" His voice cracked and he covered it with a loud cough. Rubbing his forehead, he took a deep sip. "She'll need you," he whispered, the loudest he could force out his voice without losing control of it. "She'll need you to be brave and take care of her."
"I liked the flower lady."
Reeve acknowledged this with a subtle nod. "I know."
"Are Daddy and Tifa sad?"
"Right now," he said. "They'll be…They'll be okay someday. Just not right now. They were both very good friends with—with her."
Looking up at Reeve, Marlene asked, "Were you?"
A cold numbness fell over him at the question. His eyes staring off, Reeve vividly pictured the horror and betrayal in Aerith's face when she had learned Marlene was being held by Shinra. The terror not only for Marlene, but the mother Aerith knew had been with her. "I—I suppose."
"She liked you," Marlene assured him. "Nobody can hate Cait Sith."
He firmly set down the glass to prevent dropping it. Reeve leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. Everyone could hate Cait Sith. Everyone but Aerith. She had been genuinely heartbroken thinking of a puppet being destroyed in the Temple of the Ancients. With that glowing, sentimental expression she had looked directly in Cait Sith's eyes, Reeve's eyes, and pleaded with the others for compassion. For the spy. Not even the spy, the robotic surrogate for the spy.
"She—She liked him," Reeve croaked. "Aerith didn't hate anyone. She couldn't hate anyone. Tseng survived Sephiroth, but not her…? Why not her?"
Reeve flinched as he felt an unexpected touch. Marlene leaned her head against his arm, clutching it tightly. "You'll be okay someday," she repeated back to him.
Reeve broke. The numb emptiness of the night before and that day drowned under the despair he had tried to wall his soul against. His shoulders shaking, he surrendered himself to tears, pulling Marlene closer. She returned his embrace and he heavily sobbed into her.
"Even you're crying for her…?" The voice murmured over the distance of continents.
Unable to sort where his vision was immediately, Reeve felt the sensation of Cait Sith raising his head and met Tifa's gaze. He had been present and aware for most of her weeping the night before, and she stared into Cait Sith's face with newly-misting eyes. "You are, aren't you?" she mumbled in disbelief. She eased to a stop beside Cait Sith in the middle of the rocky path leading away from the Forgotten City. Tifa looked into his face in pain, unconcerned with the fact that the others were still hiking and gradually leaving them behind.
To Reeve's shock, Tifa cautiously reached her hands under Cait Sith's arms and eased him to a standing position. "Aye don't…?"
Tifa's shoulders rose and sank from a deep, shaky sigh, then she hesitantly pulled Cait Sith to her. "You're crying…for some reason it—it makes me happy that you are. It doesn't make sense. I don't know why hearing you cry means so much to me, but…thank you."
Cait Sith's fuzzy face buried into her shoulder. "Now lookit me, lass—Now Aye can't stop…!"
"You cared about her too…" Breaking into sobs, Tifa squeezed the plush desperately. "You weren't supposed to care, how am I supposed to hate you like this?"
"Of course Aye cared," Cait whimpered (being able to speak Reeve's thoughts meant Cait didn't have to struggle to form words like Reeve currently did). "Ya don't believe me, but Aye care about all a'yeh…Aye don't know how to make ya believe."
"I believe you," she whispered between trembling breaths. "Whoever you really are, I believe you. I don't forgive you, but I believe you."
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