Unspoken
By mihoyonagi
Chapter 42: Distress
"For the third time, Sephiroth, yes, I am sure that you can take the buggy for your travels." Red paced back and fourth several times, shaking his mane in frustration. "No one in the city has bothered with it for over a year, and no one will miss it when it's gone. Take it to Costa del Sol and board a boat back to Mideel."
Sephiroth motioned for his notebook, but the fire-cat cut him off with a low growl. "I'm not asking you," he insisted. "I am telling you to take it. I don't want Aerith walking in her condition, and you know as well as I do that Cloud won't be able to catch up to you in the damned thing. Take it, and take Aerith home."
Scratching the back of his head in slight aggravation, Sephiroth let out a low sigh. He didn't meant to take the buggy, but with Red's insistence and his worry over Aerith's current state, he had little other choice than to accept help. He finally nodded, then made his way back into the bedroom.
Aerith, just as he had left her, lay curled up atop her bed. She occupied a deep, exhausted slumber that Sephiroth didn't blame her for escaping in: she had, after all, been up nearly the entire night in tears and unrest. He remembered when he had learned of his past from Valentine, when he had met his mother, and the emotional and physical toll everything had taken upon his body thereafter. Why, he himself had slept for the better part of two days. Who was he to hold it against the flower girl for being exhausted and emotionally drained after the truth she had discovered?
Making sure everything they owned was safely tucked into his backpack, Sephiroth shouldered the bag and steadied himself. Slowly, he made his way to Aerith's side, bending down to gaze upon her for just a moment. Her face was peaceful since she had found solace in sleep, and Sephiroth preferred it as such. He wished, were at all possible, to never witness her in the same state she had been in the night before.
Carefully, he eased her up from the bed, holding her tight against his chest. He made his way out of the inn and followed Red out of the canyon in the dead of night.
Sephiroth placed Aerith inside the car, reclining the passenger's seat and buckling her up in a comfortable position. He turned to Red before he closed the door.
Red looked up at him with pity evident in his gaze. "Here, take this for her." Twisting around, Red pulled a small bag from beside him and brought it toward Sephiroth. The general accepted it, and pulled from the bag a woolen, woven blanket. "It's a keepsake of mine, and I wish Aerith to take care of it."
Sephiroth nodded, reaching into the buggy and placing the blanket atop Aerith's sleeping form. She remained still.
He looked back to the feline who was obviously having difficulty in finding words to convey his feelings. "I expect you to keep it in good shape, as I'll visit you eventually. "
Sephiroth understood that in by trusting the blanket to Aerith's keep, the cat was trusting Aerith to Sephiroth. His voice said to keep the woolen thing safe, but his face told him to take care of that which was more precious. Sephiroth nodded toward what he supposed was a new friend.
He knelt down on his knees, making himself eye level with Red. Reaching out his hand, he stroked the cat's face and mane. It was, in its own sense, a handshake made in the sealing of a promise. Red understood this, and leaned toward the light touch.
Sephiroth stood.
"I mean it," Red warned. "No rips, no tears, no breaks: you take good care of it."
Sephiroth nodded, understanding again what silent words Red had conveyed: 'keep her safe, make her happy, and don't break her heart.'
But, the general mused as he retreated into the driver's seat of the car, she has already made up her mind; her heart was shattered for the time being. He would protect her while she mended the pieces, of course, but there was little else that he could do for her until they reached Mideel and her sorrows would fade like a distant, foggy memory.
Sephiroth didn't turn to watch Red's figure disappear out the rearview mirror. He kept his eyes forward and set with determined purpose. His concentration was focused completely on the road before him, and the path he would be forced to travel upon very shortly.
The long drive allowed Sephiroth time enough to think. The road was worn but flat enough to keep Aerith undisturbed in her slumber, and Sephiroth was thankful for that. She moved slightly several times, tossing one direction and turning another, clutching the blanket to herself like someone broken.
Sephiroth mused about how ironic their life paths had been, and how close and yet so far apart they were from one another.
Aerith had told him that his father had killed her own, though Sephiroth wasn't surprised. Hojo had many ways to hurt those around him, and the bastard took great pride in prolonging the suffering of those in his custody.
After all, Sephiroth had been no exception. He had aged while in Hojo's captivity, knowing not much of the world outside of him. His only solace had been training in Soldier, and the praise he received from it. The Hero of Wutai, he had been named. The media had gone somewhat ballistic when he returned from the surge on the foreign country, and the praise didn't go undeterred. Admiration was something his father had never admonished him with, and hearing congratulations from complete strangers had filled him with a slight sense of purpose where everything else had seemed to have failed.
Shin-Ra had made him general, had adored him as the prodigy he had been created to be, and because it had been all he had known, he had accepted it. Little praise was better than none, and Sephiroth had been slightly pleased to be in the spotlight for so long.
Aerith, he suspected, had done just the opposite during her lifetime. He recalled the stories she had shared with him during their travels and knew her to be a magic user, an idea of which Sephiroth had already easily assumed to be true before she enforced it as fact. She hadn't, after all, physically fought to protect the planet from him: she had merely prayed. She had hoped, and her hope proved to be mightier than any piece of forged steel could ever wish to be. She grew flowers in her church, she nurtured life: he struck down his enemies from where they stood, he stole life. Two better opposites could not be placed. Hell, Sephiroth suspected that they could put night and day to rest.
Still, he admitted silently to himself, he wanted her. Not just her smile, or her love, or her beauty, but all of her: he wanted to be all she thought of, all she would ever need.
And he hated himself for it.
It seemed that selfishness was something he could always be attributed with.
His darkness had been purged with light because of her kindness, but, as he reflected on it, he had little to offer her in return. His darkness, however, hadn't consumed him completely: he wasn't without merit - merely the absence of light, not completely engulfed in corruption - yet Aerith was the purity that he had needed so badly.
Without much notice, or rather much care, Sephiroth had traversed a good most of the continent within the span of the day. He had passed out of the canyon and around the desert, avoiding the Gold Saucer area completely, and was making good time toward the sunny port town of Costa del Sol. The plan circulating around his head wasn't cemented or, in fact, thought out much at all. He was hoping to buy passage on one of the cargo boats heading down to Mideel, or perhaps get lucky and buy tickets on some sort of tourist cruiser. How he was going to do it, what with their tiny coin purse and their lack of Gil, was another story. He hoped Aerith didn't abhor the idea of seeking passage on another fishing boat.
As if thinking of her has been some sort of cue for her to wake, Sephiroth glanced over and was greeted with a pair of deep green eyes staring intently up at him from under the blanket.
"Have I been asleep for long?" Her voice was timid and quiet, as if she feared something.
Glancing out the window, Sephiroth took in the sunset that lit up the sky with a crimson hue. He nodded once, the returned his eyes to the road.
"Are we going home?"
Sephiroth nodded again, knowing that she understood his lack of normal communication at the moment: his notebook may have taken residence in his pocket, but his hands were clamped tight around the steering wheel. Any questions he answered would have to be yes or no questions, answers he could give with a shake or a nod of his head.
"Will we be stopping soon? I'm hungry."
It was all she had to say to make his foot shift from the gas pedal to the break. Somehow he suspected she knew this, but he would never mention anything about it. It wasn't as though she was lying to him, after all. Sephiroth suspected even he would be hungry after sleeping for nearly an entire day.
He pulled the buggy off of the road and turned the key to stop the engine. Their meal wasn't fancy, as most of the foodstuffs they had been provided with from the canyon-city were home-grown from gardens, or had been freeze-dried and shipped to them, but food was food and Sephiroth was beginning to find that even he was beginning to gain an appetite. Pulling what they had from the trunk of the car, he shut the lid and brought the backpack to Aerith.
She opened the door weakly, her face solemn and somewhat ashen. Stress, Sephiroth recalled, did much to a person, and it was obvious Aerith had been struggling with her thoughts. Sephiroth reached out a hand for her, regardless of what had transpired the night before, offering to help her up if she so needed it. Aerith looked up at him, shaking her head and refusing his hand. "I need to stretch a little before I stand up. My legs are really stiff."
Sephiroth retracted his hand and made his way to the back of the car. Atop the lid of the trunk he placed several containers of food so that Aerith might pick what she saw fit to consume. It took her quite a few minutes to stretch out her body enough to feel confident in standing on and it slightly pained Sephiroth to see her struggle. Still, he had offered her his hand and she had refused, ever the willful one to try and do everything on her own.
They ate in a strained silence, the quite only broken by their chewing. The finished just as they began; in silence. They each worked to get the remaining food into the backpack with hushed, muted movements.
"I'm sorry."
Not expecting Aerith to speak, Sephiroth jumped slightly when she broke the stillness. He looked to her and noticed her dropped gaze. Growing curious, his hands stilled the task of putting food away as he turned completely to look upon her.
"Last night, when I was upset," her voice trailed off, her mind obviously struggling with speech. "I blamed you. It was wrong of me."
Sephiroth found it curious that someone as blunt as Aerith seemed to be having trouble forming cognitive thoughts to express herself with. She hid her feelings and opinions at times, but she was not one to usually hide her heart away.
"It's just really ironic that you and I ended up together like this, actual friends, when you look back at everything that's passed between us. Our parents knew one another. I can't help but wonder, now, what would have been different had you and I met when we were young."
She sighed. "That's not why I'm apologizing, though." Aerith flexed her hands, opening and closing them, her gaze somewhat empty. She wasn't really looking at her hands; she appeared to be searching for something within herself.
"I blamed you, and I shouldn't have. In truth, you've been more hurt by the actions of our parents than I have. You were tortured more than I ever was. You're the strongest man in the world, yet still you broke. That's how Jenova took hold of you; you were lost and hurt."
Sephiroth flinched, visibly.
Aerith shook her head, obviously noticing the nerve she had hit. "Some of the files in the book were about you, and your upbringing. They were observations made by my father. I knew about some of the things that you've gone through, but I never really understood them until they were there in front of me."
She bit her lip before continuing.
"I blamed you, and I was wrong. None of this was your fault; none of any of this has ever been your fault, even what happened in the Ancient Capital. When I cried last night after you had put me in bed, it was because I knew I had hurt you. I was so anxious to shove the blame on someone still here, someone still alive, someone to take my pain and feel guilty about it, that it was too late before I realized it was you. I've never hated you, and don't think I ever could."
Sephiroth could feel a pang in his chest, as if something were breaking. Everything was so torn in his mind; one minute, he thought she hated him, the next she was apologizing for what anger had made her say.
"I think, though, it would do us both good to go home for a little while. We'll see, then, what lies ahead for us. I just… I just need some time to think. I feel a little lost."
She finished packing their food without looking up at him and seated herself once again on the passenger's side of the buggy.
Sephiroth followed her lead soon after her, only taking a moment to place their backpack back into the trunk. He adjusted the front mirror in the car to give his hands something to do for a moment. The ignition flared up when he turned the key. He glued his hands to the steering wheel, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead.
The car filled with silence again, but this time Aerith was awake for it.
Sephiroth's mind was anything from restful.
He knew Aerith to an extent that he considered to be a deeper understanding than most, and he could tell when she was hiding something. Her apology had been heartfelt, of course, and she had meant every word of it, but something was hidden behind her eyes, behind her voice. Her face wore a blank expression, and her mind seemed to be far away.
Something was wrong.
Sephiroth cold feel it. His stomach turned.
She didn't blame him. He knew such to be truth, now. But something else bit at her, something else ate away at her and she was refusing to share her heart with him.
She was lost. Her heart was hurting, Sephiroth could tell. Her anguish ran deep, but there was little that Sephiroth could do for her until she sorted everything out herself.
He would wait.
Costal del Sol was reached before midnight, though only by a few hours. The ride had been enveloped in a fretful silence, and it had put the general slightly on edge.
The port was still active, luckily for them, with ships bobbing up and down in the tide. Sephiroth reluctantly relayed a message via his notebook to Aerith, explaining that it might be best for her to try and procure two tickets from one of the stands on the docks. His lack of voice, after all, would serve more of an annoyance than a benefit in such a circumstance.
She agreed without argument, and set off toward the docks, determined to go home. Sephiroth followed after her, close behind.
The tourist season to Mideel was only just beginning to pick up, and Aerith shared her amazement at being able to obtain passage so easily when the summer months loomed so closely on the horizon. Mideel, with its out of the way and stuck in the middle of nowhere location, was a popular tourist spot for the nature-freaks, or so they were informed by the young woman who had sold them their tickets. The boat they were meant to be boarding wouldn't be ready to sail until the morning hours, but Sephiroth was quickly falling into a slight sense of sluggishness, and was pleased to hear that, despite the boat not leaving port for a few hours, the ship's crew were gracious enough to allow the passengers to board the night before.
What Gil they had with them had been spent on the tickets, so there would be little to argue over upon the boat, much to Sephiroth's distaste. He wasn't one for materialistic goods, but he rightly enjoyed food. If the journey lasted more than a few days, the provisions from Cosmo Canyon they had acquired wouldn't stretch far enough to keep them satisfied until they reached their home. Still, there was little to be done other than hope the seas stayed calm. The room they had acquired, however, pleased Sephiroth, given the price they had paid. Two beds were set in the near middle of the room, and a decently-sized, clean bathroom adjacent.
Without so much as a backward glance, Aerith dumped her bag onto one of the beds and quickly made for the bathroom. Immediately, Sephiroth head the faucet of the bathtub begin to ring with the thunder of pouring water, and soon following the simple sound of the shower being turned on.
His body tired, and his mind run ragged, Sephiroth quickly set to changing his clothing before Aerith got out of the bathroom and promptly curled up under the covers of his bed. The shower ran in the background, though to Sephiroth it was simple white-noise: he was lost, deep in thought.
Not liking it in the least when Aerith hid her feelings from him, Sephiroth tried to conjure a reason for her strange behavior.
Truth, to be sure, was a hard thing to swallow, and Aerith learning of her past must have had no pleasant experience, Sephiroth mused. He recalled, vividly, the night Vincent had taken him to see the grave of his real mother, and the simple words the gunman spoke that nearly tore Sephiroth's world apart. Truth can change something, for better of for worse.
Sephiroth was beginning to think bitter thoughts. His mind circled around the idea of the need people have to lie, and how nothing good ever seemed to come of hiding the truth. False pretences and fake smiles were one thing if a person was not yet comfortable confiding with the truth with themselves, but secrets can scar and lies can destroy.
Even more indignantly did Sephiroth realize how much he detested the idea of lying, and thusly began to detest himself for it: he was, after all, hiding his heart and true feelings from Aerith. He couldn't blame her for the way she was falling further and further away from him. It wasn't as though he was being liberal with his distribution of inner thought, after all. It was painfully ironic, to be honest.
Still, the more Sephiroth let his mind tangle itself around the idea of telling Aerith how much he cared for her, the more terrified he became. If she rejected his love, he knew it would hurt, but what if she didn't want to be in his company thereafter? Rejection was one thing, but outright revolution? Sephiroth was unable to cope with the idea of no longer being the one she traveled with, the one she smiled at, the one she shared her meals with.
The sudden lack of flowing water alerted Sephiroth that Aerith's shower had finished. He heard her exit the bathroom a few minutes later.
He feigned sleep.
Though his eyes were closed, he was aware when she turned off the lights. He heard her slowly make her way across the cabin and into her own bed, groping blindly in the darkness for her bedding.
And, had he not been listening so intently in the first place, he would have never heard her nearly inaudible voice over the rush of the sea outside their window.
"Forgive me."
Sephiroth's heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. She was truly hurting, and Sephiroth hadn't the slightest idea as to what he could do to ease her heart.
He remained motionless, paralyzed, unable to muster a single thought.