Unspoken

By mihoyonagi

Author's Notice: Slight Yuffie/Vincent pairing in this chapter, though only vocal.

Chapter 38: Understanding

Sephiroth felt the overwhelming urge to be free of the cave all but consume him. He rushed from the crystal-lined outlet, stumbling along the erratic path his panicking feet trudged across, through rock and sand alike. The world spun around him, and the ground rose to meet him when his feet weren't stable enough to carry his weight. He fumbled through the cave entrance on his hands and knees, blindly groping mossy stone and smooth crystal until the cold night air rushed up to meet him and the stars were visible above his head. Without thinking, Sephiroth stumbled into the lake. The water was freezing, much like the air, but the general hardly noticed. Foreign tears had burned hot trails down his cheeks, and had only left more sadness in their wake.

Waist deep in water, Sephiroth scooped up handfuls and splashed the droplets on his face. He rinsed away any traces of tears that might have been left behind, but still he did not feel satisfied. Holding his breath, as well as his nose, Sephiroth plunged into the lake. He emerged mere moments later, gasping for air. He began to shiver.

Cold was not something that bothered Sephiroth; the cold was not what made his body quake as terribly as it did. Overwhelming despair gripped the heart of the silver-haired swordsman, and made him tremble from the tip of his nose all the way down to his boots.

There was no telling how long he had trudged through the mountains, but by the time common sense bade him to return to the house, to side of the flower girl, it was well past dawn. Somehow, Sephiroth knew she would be waiting for him with nothing but questions in her voice and worry on her face. He, however, was too tired to care. His heart ached, and his body ached- there was little to be said.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was shrill, laced with fright and fret. Sephiroth stormed through the front door of the house promptly slamming it behind him. "Sephiroth- I've been worried sick and Vincent wouldn't tell me anything and-"

There was nothing that he could say that would appease himself- he wouldn't lie to her, and the truth was too hard to relive again until he had rested. Knowing he would feel terrible about it later, he strode past Aerith without so much as a glance and stormed up the stairs and down the hallway to his room.

"What, in Planet's name, did you do to him, Vincent Valentine!?" If Sephiroth were paying attention, he would have noticed Aerith's tone was quite easily the most terrifying it had ever been.

Ignoring the soon to be chaotic mess of yelling and excuses that would rumble from the floor below his feet, Sephiroth strode to his bed, stripped his frozen clothing off until he was left in only his undergarments, promptly huddled under the fluffy down comforter and proceeded to stuff his head under his pillow.

His body slowly eased into a slight relaxation, and soon the general found himself in a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was late into the night when he awoke with a sudden start. His heart racing, Sephiroth sat up and placed a hand to his chest as if he had been torn from sleep by some terrible nightmare. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, attempting to recall any dreams he might have had, but when his mind was drawing nothing but blanks, Sephiroth gently laid back upon the still-warm sheets.

What little light the crescent moon offered filtered in through the shades in front of the window. Sephiroth rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, wondering how long he had been asleep. Immediately, having been given the quiet of the night, his thoughts drifted toward what he had only recently learned.

In his heart, Sephiroth didn't blame Vincent. He knew that he very well could- if the damned gunman had simply communicated with the woman he cared for before things escalated, perhaps Sephiroth would have been his son and been raised in somewhat of a normal family.

The thought of being Vincent's son, however, was slightly awkward for Sephiroth to think of; the man looked not a day older than twenty-six, twenty-seven at the most, whereas Sephiroth knew Vincent couldn't be any younger than fifty. The only reason he could give a decent estimate on the gunman's age was because of his own- unsure of his own date of birth, and thusly unsure of his exact age, Sephiroth was able to guess himself to be easily in his late twenties to early thirties. The younger the better- he mused; the longer he had to live.

Thinking of having Vincent for a father, however, caused Sephiroth's thoughts to steer in the direction of his past and how he was raised. Cruel as it may have been, the general had to admit that had the past not happened as it had, he wouldn't have been given a chance at what he was aiming for- a better life. He easily understood that the life he had led before had been anything but a worthy lifestyle- yet, there had been no happiness within his world. Had he been born unto the world with caring parents, he would have taken happiness for granted.

Thinking such inevitably led him to the conclusion that had everything not been so terribly wrong in his previously life, Sephiroth would not find himself attempting to win the affections of the most pure and wondering being on the planet, damn it all.

It was all very confusing.

In fact, it was hunger-inducing, thinking so much. Throwing his bed covers aside, Sephiroth quietly set his feet to the floor, pulled on a pair of clean pants, and crept to the door.

Listening carefully for signs of life, Sephiroth pressed his ear against the wall. He could feel Aerith on the other side of the door, somewhere nearby, but oddly knew her to be asleep. The rest of the house lay silent, and so the general turned the knob and ventured into the hallway. Somehow, he was slightly disturbed to see Aerith in the hallway, sleeping against the wall. A heavy blanket surrounded her tiny frame, and a pillow kept her head from lying on the hardwood floor. Still, Sephiroth was not yet ready to communicate to the flower girl the amount of inner torment he was going trough. Truth be told, he wasn't accepting much of it himself- he was only beginning to understand what everything meant and how it tied together. He would tell her eventually.

Despite himself, Sephiroth knew where to find the kitchen. True, it had been many years since last he set foot inside the mansion, but little aside from interior decorating had changed- the floor plan was much the same as it had been, and he was easily able to navigate down a set of stairs and through several hallways, even in the dark.

The fridge was stockpiled with all sorts of goodies- slices of pie and fruit, uncooked meats, several kinds of cheese, a wrapped up baked potatoes someone seemed to be saving, a doughnut hidden behind a carton of eggs, juice from several things Sephiroth wasn't aware that could be turned into juice; it looked as though the younger girl, Yuffie, did most of the shopping. The things on the shelves seemed to be staples in the life of a young adult, or at least Sephiroth was able to assume based off of several containers full of left-over macaroni and cheese, as well as several half-eaten cans of ready-to-eat ravioli. Not wanting to take a chance with the cold pasta, Sephiroth settled for a few slices of cheese and a bowl of grapes that, by the looks of it, had already been half-eaten. It wasn't much, but he wasn't terribly hungry, either. All he needed was enough to sustain himself until dawn, where he was sure he would be notified of what he was allowed to eat (he wouldn't think of touching the ravioli- Ramah only knew how long it had been decorating the top-most shelf of the fridge).

Sephiroth could feel Vincent's presence before he stepped out of the shadowed doorway. Keeping his expression purposefully calm and collected, Sephiroth raised his eyebrow when he met the gaze of the dark man. What other secrets did Vincent have for him? – Perhaps he had a half-chocobo sibling locked away in the basement, or something just as silly. Sephiroth's rather strange attempt at inner-sarcasm, however, was cut short by the question Vincent accusingly shot in his direction.

"She speaks nothing but good of you, yet you ignore her for three days? She's so worried about you that she hardly moves from that damn spot outside of your door. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sephiroth's eyebrows quickly shot to the sky, and he held up his hands in defense while shaking his head.

Vincent's expression shifted from irritated to slightly puzzled. The gunman slowly put a few things together in his head and came to a conclusion. "You really were sleeping, weren't you?"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and nodded. Of course he had been sleeping –though three days was a long while to be out. He would never ignore Aerith; there was much he was willing to do for her, in fact, but there was no need to tell the gunman such.

Sighing, Vincent broke eye contact with Sephiroth. "I haven't told Aerith what went on the night I took you to the cave. I knew it wasn't my place, and I wasn't sure if you even wished her to know. But you must tell her something and lay her worries to rest before she actually becomes ill over all of this. She keeps telling Yuffie that she thinks you're mad at her for some reason, and it's damn near driving her mad."

Running a hand though his hair, Sephiroth exhaled harshly through his nose while he attempted to think of what he might tell the flower girl.

Vincent continued as if Sephiroth hadn't shown any frustration over the situation. "There is little Yuffie and I can do to comfort her. She's still pleased with our company, but doesn't often venture far from your door. What, exactly, are each of you to the other?"

Sephiroth popped another grape into his mouth, wishing desperately for their conversation to be over. He owed the gunman no explanation, especially when Aerith herself knew not the nature of his true feelings.

It was quite irritating, however, when Vincent was able to make an educated guess. "You have feelings for her, don't you, Sephiroth?"

Again, Sephiroth ran a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. He hadn't planned on outright telling the man his feelings for the flower girl, but he wouldn't lie, either.

He watched as a small smile befell the gunman's lips. "I'm not one to judge, Sephiroth." The gunman's gaze fell to the floor.

Sephiroth's eyes widened. What was he trying to tell him?

Bemused, and most likely slightly embarrassed, Vincent looked around the kitchen, his gaze curiously avoiding that of the swordsman. "Try not to think too harshly of me, for liking the little Wutain girl. It's true, my heart sides with Yuffie, but there is more than simple infatuation behind my feelings. After what happened in the crater, I felt as though I could finally rest. I didn't speak much with everyone else after that, and left our ship in the middle of the night. I came back here, thinking I would finally be granted eternal sleep."

Vincent, again, smiled.

"She stormed down the stairs, soaked through to the bone because of the rain, crying. She demanded to know why I left without telling anyone, and I offered up no excuses. I told her I had come home to die."

Biting his lip, Vincent rolled his eyes. "She hit me for that. Hard. Tiny little fists like iron, she has. Neither of us arranged it- she just moved in after that. She used her Gil to redecorated, never asking me how I felt."

"To say the least, I don't mind her company. At first, it was aggravating; Human interaction was something that I had done without for many years. Joining Cloud's campaign was my first step outside of this house in years, decades."

Sephiroth popped another grape into his mouth, somehow bemused the way the conversation had switched viewpoints. He raised an eyebrow at the gunman, keeping his expression inquisitive, yet cooled.

"No," Vincent continued, reading the general's facial expressions. "I haven't told her the way I feel yet."

Clearing his throat, Vincent scratched the back of his head. "Well, look at the situation- Yuffie is so young in comparison; she'll be twenty this November, where as I-" there was a long pause. "I'm a little older, hence why I am apprehensive about my feelings toward her. True, my appearance is young, but my heart and mind are older than I would like to admit. I want to make sure that it is I who she wants, who she loves. She shows her affection toward me in childish ways, and so knowing how to react is something I am still struggling with; I am not sure how she truly feels. I don't want to hurt her, like I hurt Lucrecia. It hasn't been long enough for me to be sure; it's been a long time since I've been in love, Sephiroth, and I won't make the same mistakes I once did. Remember that. Don't let Aerith be to you what Lucrecia was to me; a distant dream, a broken heart."

Nodding absentmindedly, Sephiroth refused to meet Vincent's gaze. It was obvious to the swordsman that the secrets he had been told were things that Vincent had shared with no other, but had been bothering him for some time. One thing was for sure, however; Sephiroth would not allow Aerith to slip through his grasp. He wouldn't press his feelings- forcing her to decide was something he would never do. But Shiva be damned if, by the time he told her how he felt, she wouldn't already have guessed.

"There are many paths to a woman's heart, Sephiroth," Vincent mused. "Each one is just as foreign as the next. As long as you keep your eyes on the prize, I have a feeling you'll do just fine. While I don't know what, exactly, Aerith may feel for you, I at least know you have a better chance than anyone else." Without so much as another word, Vincent walked quietly from the kitchen and melted into the dark hallway.

Sephiroth put the remaining grapes back into the fridge and swallowed down the last few bites of cheese. His feet easily managed to navigate through the dark hallways of the house and eventually brought him to the door of his bedroom. The general looked upon the body of his resting flower maiden and, without much thought, gently scooped her up into his arms and swept her on the bed. He carefully made sure not to wake her, and was pleased when she didn't stir in the slightest.

He shut the door to the bedroom, quietly, and crept across the room to the other side of the bed. Sitting down, Sephiroth made certain not to disturb Aerith's slumber. He sat like that, with his back against the headboard, Aerith asleep at his side, gazing out of the window for many hours. Pleased with merely being near her, he felt content for a long while. Her steady inhale and exhale of breath was smooth and calming, and Sephiroth tried to think how he would managed to get along without it were she ever to leave. He couldn't think of a way.

It came as no surprise, then, when Sephiroth felt the exact moment Aerith awoke. It took her several moments to distinguish why, exactly, she was on a warm, fluffy bed, contrary to the cold, hardwood flooring she had fallen asleep on. Sephiroth felt her sit up and stare about the room in awe. Slowly, he turned away from the sunrise and looked at her.

He had purposefully let his guard down, just for her: his face held no carefully calculated mask, his eyes no ice. He would allow her to see him as no one ever had- vulnerable.

It was obvious that she didn't know how to react. At first, her facial expression was angry- she didn't need to voice her questions for Sephiroth to be able to read them from her eyes- they were all there. Then, when she made eye-contact with him, her anger subsided and a look of flustered curiosity crept in.

"Why did you ignore me?"

Sephiroth shook his head, closing his eyes while he did so.

"Were you really sleeping, then?"

This time, he nodded.

"Well, what the hell were you so pissed off about the other night?"

Sephiroth let a smile escape. Aerith's attempt at being irate was rather cute. There had been very few other accounts he could recall whereupon she cursed. He opened his eyes and pointed toward his bedside table, where his notebook and pen neatly laid. Aerith leaned over and retrieved them without hesitation, handing them to Sephiroth without meeting his gaze.

He handed her his notebook when he had finished. 'Don't think that I would ever purposefully ignore you. The other night, Vincent had taken me to see the grave of my mother- my real mother. I discovered things about myself, about my past and where I came from, and was merely upset at the overwhelming onslaught of information that wasn't, at first, welcome. I must have slept so long because of the emotional breakdown I went through that night.'

Aerith shook her head and looked up at the general; he could read the hurt in her eyes. "Breakdown? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you let me help you?"

It was rather difficult for Sephiroth to write his next message. 'Because, at the time, I didn't think I needed anyone. I've never been through anything like that before. My head was such a mess; I simply wanted to sleep until my heart stopped aching.'

Sephiroth attempted, as best he could, to tell Aerith all that happened and all that he learned.

'My mother was human- quite beautiful, too. Vincent knew her, surprisingly, from before I was born. I found out the nature of my mother, how she was a scientist, how she sought comfort in the arms of a man who turned out to be a terrible human being- his name was Hojo. Hojo did terrible things to my mother while I was still in her womb, and never allowed her to see me after I was born- not once. I grew up thinking I was created in a test tube, that my mother was some crazy viral infection that spoke to me. Everything in my life was a lie. I'm not stupid- I've known that I'm human for a long time. But to hear everything that I've suspected that it's the truth? My heart aches so terribly Aerith.'

Again, Aerith shook her head. This time, however, it was obviously from guilt. 'Why didn't you come to me?"

'I didn't know it was you who I needed.'

Her great, shining emerald eyes shot up to meet the gaze of the general. "I'm so sorry, Sephiroth. I wish I could help you- you've been through so much."

Sephiroth sighed. Here she was, pitying him. He had stolen her life, her future, and her friends from her, and yet she sat in front of him, eyes sparking with sincerity, full of pity and the want to help him somehow. It was mind boggling; why didn't she blame him for everything? Aerith shouldn't be showing him pity: she should, like so many others, smirk and remind him of all the terrible things he had done to other people.

Another message, this one solemn, was handed to her. 'I finally got what I deserve, I suppose.'

Sephiroth was not sure what kind of a reaction he should have been looking for in Aerith after such a downtrodden thing to say. Though it was depressive, Sephiroth wasn't about to lie to Aerith- it was, truly, the way he felt. He had stolen so much from others, and his bad karma finally caught up with him.

Aerith's eyes were on fire. "Don't ever say something like that again!"

Sephiroth jumped, not expecting Aerith to raise her voice so early in the morning. Placing a finger to his lips, Sephiroth sat up and leaned forwarding, trying to get Aerith to calm down. He didn't want Yuffie or Vincent to wake up and barge in, uninvited.

Aerith gripped Sephiroth's wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth. Sitting up on her knees, she leaned over the shocked general and pointed a finger directly into his chest. "I don't care what happened, I don't care what people say or think: you're a good person, and I can attest to it. Do you think I would trust you if you weren't? Do you think I would blindly travel around the world with you if it wasn't true? The things that you've done, the sins that you have committed, are in the past. You're not the same man you once were. Do you understand me?"

It took several moments for Sephiroth to gather his composure after Aerith had finished speaking. He was certain that, when he saw them, the tears freely falling from her emerald eyes were out of frustration.

Without thinking, he reached up and placed a hand to her face, wiping away the salty trails the tears left with this thumb. There wasn't a single coherent thought running through his head as he reached out with his other hand, pulled her close, and cradled her against his chest. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he had somehow managed to turn her against him, so that that she was sitting somewhat sideways in his lap, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and placed a free hand on the side of her face, gently pressing her against his neck.

It was amazing how easily she moved with him. Sephiroth was somewhat shocked when he noticed that she hadn't protested at all and had, rather, moved the way he had directed her.

Whether it was merely from shock, it took Aerith several minutes to speak again. "Do you understand me?" Her voice, no longer flushed with frustration, was gentle and whispered, almost as if she was comforted by the closeness.

Mutely nodding, Sephiroth pressed his face against the top of her head. He let out a sigh; he doubted there had ever been an instance in his life he had felt more comforted.

Someone believed he was a good person. That someone was the person he had wronged the most, and yet she believed him to be a good person; it was as if the world had crumbled beneath him, and Aerith was the only thing keeping him tied to it.

It was in that moment that Sephiroth decided to try his best to be the person Aerith believed him to be. He wouldn't allow Aerith to be to him as his mother was to the man who truly loved her; a distant dream. He would be damned before he allowed her heart to break.

Vaguely, he could feel her lips against his chest mouth the words 'I forgive you.' He wanted so terribly to hold her, to kiss her, to make her smile until the world stopped moving, and to tell her so, but it was the footsteps he heard rapidly approaching his bedroom door that made him snap back to reality and out of his happy daydream.

A knock sounded at the door, making Aerith jump in his arms. "Everything okay in there, Aerith? I thought I heard yelling." It was the voice of Yuffie, the little ninja girl Vincent had found himself so infatuated with.

Aerith turned in his arms, facing the door but not leaving Sephiroth's grasp. "Everything is okay, Yuffie. We were just talking, and I got a little upset."

"Oh." A long, drawn-out pause. "I'm hungry- you wanna help me cook something for breakfast?"

She smiled. Oh, Planet how Sephiroth loved it when she smiled. "I'll be right out, Yuffie. I'll meet you in the kitchen in just a minute."

Muffled footsteps faded down the hallway.

Aerith turned to face Sephiroth. Though he looked up to meet her gaze, he was rather surprised to see that her face was a pale shade of pink and her eyes were looking anywhere but his. "Remember what I told you," she chided him. "You're a good person."

Sephiroth reached out for his notebook, but Aerith pushed his hands away, apparently having read his expression out of the corner of her eyes. She, somewhat tentatively, placed a hand on his cheek and smiled shyly. "Yes, Sephiroth- I really do think you're a good person. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't care so much for you."

Blinking several times, hoping desperately that what he just heard had been correct, Sephiroth allowed Aerith to see a small, bemused smile befall his lips. Her hand still on his cheek, she looked at him and tilted her head. Her smile grew.

Even if she hadn't admitted much, whether she meant that she cared for him as a friend or possibly something more, Sephiroth was rather happy. It was a step forward in his favor. He would get her to care for him just as deeply as he cared for her, or he would die trying. He would be the man she wanted, the man she needed, else he would do everything in his power to make sure she was happy.

"I'm hungry- let's go eat." She was awkward to stumble off his lap, away from his warmth, but Sephiroth knew that if they didn't venture to the kitchen soon, Yuffie would come looking for them.

The smile on his face remained, even after he donned a shirt and followed Aerith down the stairs and into the kitchen.