Author's Note : I can honestly say I don't like this one, just because the idea is kind of overused. However, I've had it on my desktop for a few weeks, and since I haven't gotten much written for various reasons I won't bore you with, I wanted to update. I do have the next one started though, so no worries. :)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed (Shtuff, chipmouskin, Warrayfinson, and little-pocketmouse). It means so much to me, so please keep reviewing!

Side Note : I just want to dedicate this drabble to Warrayfinson, for alerting me that someone had one of my stories up over at deviantart without my permission. I'm sure they didn't mean any harm, and did take it down when I asked, but it just means a great deal that I was told since that never happened to me before. So yeah, dedication. :)

Fate

Dear Zack,

Aerith paused, her meticulously, almost religiously sharpened pencil hovering over the paper with uncertainty when its master ceased her movement. She turned her head to glance out the window, staring out at the ground that was dyed a promising silver by the motherly embrace of the moon. Green eyes softened, thinking of how the flowers in her church were freshly budded, ready for a new spring. Sighing deeply, she turned her attention back to the task before her, pressing the lead into the thin surface lovingly.

It seems so strange that you've already been gone for a whole year.

Whole-hearted, optimistic laughter filled her ears, appearing before Aerith's vision as a tan face with glowing blue eyes, looking back at her with warmth and adoration. She knew she could shake her head to disperse the charade, but she did not, and allowed herself to bask in it for a short time before grasping her senses again.

New flowers are growing. I really wish you could see them. I planted a few pink ones, since I know you like the color so much.

A creaking sound, the kind made by a foot touching a step, shattered the air, and Aerith started, causing her head to shoot up fearfully. She bit her lip, gathering her papers together like a protective mother to her children until minutes passed to reassure her, only then relaxing her grip. If anyone saw her sending out another one of these letters, they would surely have tried to convince her to do otherwise, and Aerith wouldn't allow that.

Do you think you'll be back before next spring? You better be, or I might have to come after you, Zack!

The people had begun their sympathetic advances, presenting her with their best attempts of comfort and poorly concealed pity. More bought her flowers, telling her how adorable her wagon was, doing anything in their meager power to brighten her disposition, which they knew must've been sour with loss and betrayal. Aerith appreciated their gestures, almost awed by the colorful blossoms decorating each and every window, but she knew they were unnecessary. There was nothing to mourn, just someone to wait for, someone to believe in.

I really am worried though, Zack. It's been such a long time since I've seen you, and you haven't replied to any of my letters. Have you gotten any of my other ones?

I'll write more soon, but it's late, and pushing the wagon by myself makes me tired. I hope you come home soon, so we can stay up together and just talk the way we used to.

Zack,

Aerith froze again, ransacking her thoughts for the perfect ending to convey how she felt. With a tiny smile, she leaned back down, scratching with the dulling point.

I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

Aerith

A pale hand, even whiter in the moonshine, reached for an envelope, neatly tucking the letter inside and sealing it. Clutching it with clenched hands and pressing it to her chest, Aerith stood, heading down the hallway that would lead outside.

Ever since birth, Aerith had been able to feel, to sense emotions and even the future somewhat in a more defined way than those around her. She could almost read thoughts, and she often felt blessed and honored for the gift that most human's could barely dream of.

However, while she pushed open the door to catch a glimpse of the dingy mailbox barely lasting on its hinges, she regretted it. As she took each step forward, something told her that it was fruitless, invisible whispers trying to soothe her persistence, to drive her back inside. He's gone, they spoke in their hushed, otherworldly sonnets, it's the way things are, how his life was planned out to be, as well as yours.

Without hesitation, Aerith slipped the small letter inside, striding back into the house with a determined gait.

Aerith had defied everything, from the people around her to their expectations.

She could defy fate, too.