OF A PURE HEART, A FALLEN KNIGHT AND THE ONE – WINGED ANGELS
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: ------------------------------------------
To the Reader and the Lawyers:
Final Fantasy VII, and all the characters, including Aeris and Sephiroth, Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Vincent, Yuffie, Red, Cid, Cait Sith (Reeve), Ifalna, Professor Gast, Lucrecia, Professor Hojo Frankenstein, Jenova the Mad, Rufus (any anyone I may have inadvertently missed out) are property of Square Enix Co, formerly Squaresoft LLC. Tell me if my disclaimer ain't good enough. I will reward you with a few thousand Chibi - Aeriths dosed to the nines with Hypers, and they shall hug you and squeeze you and kiss you and have a lot of fun with you (you know how… challenging Chibi - Aeriths are from the humour fanfics here).
To other Fanfic Writers (This is more important!) Plagiarism Note:
There are a lot of Aeriseph fanfics around here. I've tried my best to stay as original as possible, but it's a bit hard to write this type of story without treading on someone's toes by accident along the line. Please, if you feel that I may have 'borrowed' some of your concepts or ideas by mistake, notify me immediately. Email a "cease and desist" message to me, point out where I have gone wrong, and I will act immediately to remove or modify the offending section(s).
Thank you very, very much for your understanding and tolerance.
It may be a more reasonable and prudent course of action to read the following chapter as opposed to studying the disclaimer above.
THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR
I am… still alive…
Aeris should have been comfortable, buried under the sheets that lay heavily on her. She felt draughts of cold air sting her cheeks slightly, she could hear the lonesome humming of the air conditioner, and the incongruous rustle of several feet nearby. Why was she feeling like this?
She had been dreaming. Aeris had left her mother's house, searching for Sephiroth, and when she saw the disturbed faces, the disapproving eyes in the streets, she knew that something had happened. She had asked one of the townsmen, and he had wordlessly pointed to the gates of the village. The flower seller did not know why, but she was filled with a sudden sense of urgency, and she had run as quickly as she could, fearing for the silver – haired warrior. And when she arrived at the cold stone arena… she saw… a young man… about to die.
The young Cetra had pushed… that man… out of the way, placing herself upon the Masamune a second time, letting it take her heart away again. The blade had sheared through her bones, ripping her lungs open, forcing the wind out of her sails. She tried to draw breath, but all she could take in was that horrible sour coppery taste. She was drowning in her own blood. And the pain… every part of her body was dying slowly and horribly, and she could feel nothing else except the excruciating agony. Her vision had blacked out, and the terrifying seconds had passed by slowly, with the indescribable sensation building up to a horrifying crescendo that overrode her entire consciousness. She wanted to give it all up, to submit to this burning torment, anything to end her suffering. But somewhere, somehow, she still found within herself the strength to speak out, pleading for him to be saved. She had heard him speak the magic words, and she felt herself delivered from the unnatural evil, and even as she sped towards heavenly relief, straight into blessed release, she felt, at the very last moment… pure bliss…
Aeris opened her eyes. The person who had been in her dreams for so long was looking at her. How could she forget those lovely cerulean eyes, large with feeling, wide with meaning? The intensity of his gaze… the green warmth that came from them, reaching right into her soul… His features were set in his usual calm and confident poker face, yet they were relaxed, almost seeming to glow as he set eyes upon her. He had looked upon her in this very same way he had once, once upon a time in a peaceful palace, and she had never forgotten how he had opened himself to her so completely… making her live in paradise… This was the last wonder she had ever beheld… before the divider of heaven and earth had come, leaving her stranded forever on the cold hard asphalt, doomed to look longingly from afar at the beauties of life hovering above that she could never enjoy now…
This man was her lover… no… the man whose love she had lost…
He was but one cubit away from her, yet it was as if they were being held apart by an unbridgeable span. True love stood within arm's reach, yet so unattainable… Death had separated them, yet even in life they could not be together again. They would now be together forever, but eternally apart.
She jammed her eyes shut, turning her head to the side, but even then she couldn't stop thinking about those loving Mako eyes. The pain was coming back, and oh, it hurt so much more than even that horrid blade! Her eyelids swelled, and she swallowed several times as she fought to keep her agony at bay, the slow – acting corrosive that was burning her heart bit by bit, dissolving her thoughts fibre by fibre, consuming her spirit poco a poco. The irony of it all! It was far too much for her to take, far too much for her to bear.
"… Aeris…"
She heard that gruff, yet hoarse voice. It had been the very last piece of music to come to her ears before she had died. And even after her death, she could still hear him. He had been talking about her… for a while, he had still loved her, even though she was no longer with him, and if only to hear his voice, she had endured a while longer, lingering alone in the green darkness, unwilling to travel beyond. He had remembered her… until that day. She should have been gladdened by this, but her heart had been immeasurably saddened when he had come to at last, hurting himself no longer, setting free his anguish, letting go of her forever. She had never wanted him to grieve over her death. She had always wanted him to find happiness…
But… never in this way.
Now he had left her behind, making her unhappy. He had finally turned to the one who had been there for him when she hadn't… because she had died. She had left the world. She had returned to the Planet, passed into the Promised Land. She had gone beyond his reach permanently. She had become an impossible dream he couldn't possibly chase.
Then… why had she died? Why did she have to die? Why did she have to be separated from Cloud? She had seen so much unhappiness in her life. She had never known life as a normal child. She had undergone the most sadistic and severe tortures Hojo could ever devise. She never had the chance to know her father. She had watched her mother die right before her very eyes. She had been the last member of a race she knew practically nothing about save a few scraps of lore here and there, no one to reassure her that she wasn't a mad person. She had no friends, no one at all to talk to. Her first sweetheart had left her without a word, and she had been forced to leave her beloved bodyguard without being allowed to say a word, made to witness him marry someone other than herself!
Aeris had made it her life's work to bring joy to her friends, knowing that they too were people in pain, resolving never to let anyone else endure the hell she'd gone through. When the threat of Meteor became evident, she knew straightaway the scale of suffering everyone would have to bear if she didn't try to stop it. So… she had no recourse but to go forward… and she had succeeded. Oh yes, she had saved the Planet, and everyone's lives, and that should have been a great enough reward for her, perhaps, but still she felt hollow and unfulfilled, because she had lost something dear in return. It was so, so bittersweet. True, she had made everyone happy, given everyone a new life to look forward to… except herself. She had given everyone their lives, their future, their dreams, but at the cost of her own. Was it so much just to be with the man she loved, so much to ask for someone to care for her? Yes, she had gotten her heart's desire, but just as she had taken the slightest sip, a little nibble of the finer things of life… she had been called away... to give it all up. And she had been helpless to do anything about it. The thread of her fate had been torn away from his the moment the ribbon had fallen from her hair. Why was she being made to live this loveless play? What had she ever done to deserve such a life? Was this really her true destiny? How lucky could a girl get?
"… I'm sorry…"
He had come to apologise. What use was it of now? Cloud… Cloud… why did he have to let go of her memory? Why did he have to forget about her? Why didn't he wait for her? Didn't he remember the promise she had given him in the Sleeping Forest? Didn't he see her shade in the church at Sector 5, waving to him? Didn't he see her hand reaching out for him even as Holy began to move? Didn't he make a vow then to meet her in the Promised Land? Did he know that she had been pining away for him all along, longing for his love even beyond the mortal life? Did he know all that? Of course he knew. They were lovers. Even the stars had said so. But if he did, why did he close his mind to her? Why did he have to leave her? He had forsaken his Princess Rosa, the one he had adored the most. He had done exactly the same thing in the Gold Saucer during their date. He had kissed the Evil Dragon King, and pirouetted off the stage with the princess that had emerged, leaving her alone to gawk in astonishment and dismay. That idiot! Why did he have to dump her just because she was only dead?
And that cruel man with the white hair and the sadistic grin… why did he have to kill her? Because of his infantile quest for power, and that stupid blade of his, he had made her fall into the darkness, forced her out of paradise, shaken the salt from her life. She had done him no wrong. He had not only ended her natural life at the water altar, he had forevermore rid her soul of the chance to see the light again. Why was she still helping him, even though he was treating her like dirt, like an affliction, not one whit sympathetic to the sterile, fruitless life she was going through now?
Tifa… she of all people knew best the love she was sharing with Cloud, yet she'd been so selfish, promising to help him look for her, yet stealing his heart along the way. She'd hoped that the barmaid would have helped to honour her memory, encouraged Cloud to stay strong and wait for the day they'd be together in heaven, yet she had betrayed her trust in the end…
Didn't they know that all their thoughtless actions were making her heart bleed apace, making her go crazy? She could not help but cry out at them all for leaving her like this… who or what else was she to blame then for all her misfortune, the pain of losing her lover, the sadness that came with losing everything she had treasured?
"Aeris… I… gave up searching for you… Forgive… me…"
As much as she wanted to scold Cloud for deserting her, show him the heartbreak that he had caused her, her lips refused to part, her teeth felt heavy and her tongue did not want to move. Not a sound came out though she desperately longed in all helplessness to lash out at him now, seek some scant redress to alleviate her suffering…
"………."
Aeris could not speak. Despite her anger, deep within the silences of her soul, she knew that it wasn't their fault. All three of them had never intended to harm her. Cloud… Sephiroth… Tifa… they were all innocent. She could blame them for what had happened to her as much as she could blame Marlene for ruining her life. Cloud had chosen to forget her, and he had chosen wisely, for every moment apart had made him mad, made him step closer to dying of grief… he had recovered from losing her at long last, picking up the shards of his life, and that had been so very brave of him. That was what a true hero would have done. Sephiroth had been controlled by the Jenova cells within him. He was an honourable man, yet he had been turned into a monster by the Crisis from the Sky that had destroyed her race at the Knowlespole. After she'd left, Tifa had been the only pillar of strength left to Cloud. The only one left who could love him. How could he be expected… to love a dead person? How could she blame them for what was beyond their control, what they had been forced to do?
And she knew, though she didn't want to admit it, that she was at fault too. Perhaps none of this would ever have happened if she hadn't gone to the City of the Ancients alone, maybe if her friends had accompanied her, they might have prevented her untimely demise. Even in the Lifestream, she should have tried harder to speak to Cloud, to tell him to keep laying down all his love on her, to ask him to look forward to the time they could be reunited. It was so hard to believe that someone was still watching over you, caring for you even beyond the grave, and she had thought that just one show of a hand could convince him completely. And hadn't she forgotten all about him in the Promised Land? She had been so happy to meet her parents, savouring the wonders of heaven and learning more about her people that she had neglected him, left him alone to mourn her loss. She had not come back to him, and he had been so discouraged, believing that she was gone for good. She had failed him. She had failed to treasure his love, and she had given him up so easily. That was her sin. She had deserved this punishment. She was merely shifting the blame to someone else just to feel better, to forget about her own mistakes…
She had to do better than this. What was past could not be undone. Why did she keep slipping into the bottomless pit that held her sorrows, reflecting always on what she'd done wrong, lamenting over what she could not have avoided, agonising over what she could have done, while she had her work cut out for her, solemn duties to carry out, promises to keep? What had happened to her resolution to leave all her unhappiness behind, write a new story for herself? She had thought then that she had conquered it all, that she was ready to move on with life… but now… she realised how so terribly difficult it was not to keep flipping back to those torrid chapters, reading those tear – stained pages again and again…
She still could not forget her memories… those memories… To him, she was only a memory now. She didn't want to talk about those things. They made her feel sad, but she had been defeated, and now she would have to say goodbye to him, and wish him well. How she wanted to embrace him, forget about those failed opportunities, those missed chances, forget about it all… But she couldn't, and oh, how those words would break her heart…
"Cloud… I… I…
"I… forgive you… It wasn't your fault… I couldn't come back in time…"
She swallowed again, her tears rasping against her hoarse and smarting throat, opening her eyes, looking firmly at him, though the sight of it all burned her eyes to blindness. Cloud's face was still set in stone, but his muscles quivered slightly, he was blinking quickly and his teeth were clenched firmly. She tried to smile, even though the tears were struggling to rush out from her burst heart, her dying spirit. She just had to go on a bit more… take the pain a while more…
"Aeris…"
"We can never be together now, not in this life, not for all eternity. You've made your choice… follow it… with courage. Go to her… be happy… you love her now…
"Please… leave me…"
He bowed, unable to look at the poor girl, unwilling to see the fragile, tearful shell that contained what little was left of her, the remnants of the blossoming love that had been plucked far too early. In its place was a wilting and dying stalk that could never grow again… but would remain forever a grim and grave fossil, an epitaph to happiness. She had given him her blessing, but he knew that his heart would always secretly yearn for his beautiful princess. At last he tore himself away from his one – time lover, closing the door silently behind him as he walked out of the life of the girl who had mattered so much to him.
But I am dead already… I died when lost his love…
This was a love… that could never be.
And Cloud's words came unbidden to her mind.
If everything's a dream, don't wake me.
Was this all real? Her dream had been all too real. Now she knew what Cloud had meant back then. Her perfect fantasy world had been destroyed. She was absolutely powerless, totally helpless now. She did not want to awaken. She did not want to accept the reality of it all. What was she without him?
Aeris could stand the pain no longer. She could resist the sadness no longer. Her will relaxed, and she released the tears she had been holding back, the grief she had been keeping to herself until now. The front of her sky white hospital gown was soon soaked completely, and the bandages below began to moisten slightly as the torrent of woe flowed without ceasing. Many loud sobs of bitterness escaped with every laboured breath she took. Self – pity fouled her tears, making them dirty and base, dripping from her nose, falling off her chin, trailing down her neck. For nearly half an hour she was lost completely in the blackness, her heart weighing her down, her emotions dragging her to the ground. It was fortunate for her that she had little strength left due to the severity of her injuries, and her frail and battered body could no longer withstand the stress of confronting her past and her failures. Blessed oblivion took her away eventually, but still, her dream continued to play itself over and over again…
*****
It was midnight already. This was merely another night, and another (lot of) gil earned.
The portly, middle – aged bartender had finally washed up all the glasses, put all the furniture in their rightful place, "persuaded" a somewhat tipsy redheaded customer and his irritating bombshell to leave his establishment and mopped up the green glop he had left behind as a parting gift. He was just about to leave the counter to close and bolt the main doors when someone stepped through the darkened archway.
"Hey, it's past closing time!" The irate owner grumbled.
The man dressed completely in black ignored him, sitting down on a tall stool at the bar counter.
"Give me your strongest drink."
The tavernkeeper opened his mouth to chew out his unwanted patron in a flurry of flowery language, but he wisely held his peace at the sight of the eight – foot sword the stranger had placed on the bar counter. A small pile of gil appeared beside his weapon. The blade had been a good enough incentive to make him serve the man, but now he went about his task willingly enough.
Sephiroth stared at his glass, not paying attention to the bartender who was greedily scooping up his money. A lot had happened these few days, and he needed some time… and something to think it over.
The Masamune had drawn no blood. This was a very bad portent indeed, even as he recalled the day on which he had received his enchanted weapon… An old man, steeped in the lore of swordsmanship and magic, had challenged him one day to single combat, and despite his skills, the man had injured him with the blade, and even as he fought off the pain, he could not believe that his challenger had ceased attacking him, staring at his sword, pure astonishment and fear highlighting his features. He had chosen this moment to press forward, taking advantage of his opponent's distraction, and after that his opponent had fought with heightened resolve and fury, and they had continued for five days and nights without pause. Eventually he had defeated the aged martial arts exponent. The swordsman had then bowed to him, presenting him with the Masamune. Before he had left, the old man had told him about the story behind this sword, and now he recalled his very last words…
"You must fear and respect the person from whom the Masamune draws no blood. For then you will know your true enemy, for he possesses the power to destroy you. Fight him with all your will and your wiles, for you will never know peace until you defeat him… or suffer defeat yourself."
The man had not sheathed his sword, and when Sephiroth looked at it, he noticed that the blade was spotless, even though he had been wounded many times by it during the course of the battle. So the legend of the sword was indeed true. It had been his destiny to defeat the man who had once held the Masamune.
So this Gainsborough was fated to be his mortal enemy. He had struck her not once, but two times with the Masamune. He had stabbed her in the back when she was kneeling on the altar in prayer, attacked her at her most unprotected and vulnerable moment. He had not dwelt on it at the moment, drunk as he was with his zeal to serve his "mother" and accomplish her genocidal aims, but even as he had removed her from his blade, he had noticed that the magical steel had stayed completely clean… but it was a different matter for Strife, who had nearly drowned in his lover's blood. And the Cetra youngster had retaliated promptly. In her spirit form, she was completely out of his reach, totally unassailable, and from that position of strength she had called upon the power of the Planet to rout him completely… That Gainsborough…
Gainsborough… Gainsborough… now he recognised the old woman who had attacked him the other day. He had seen her once… sixteen years ago, when the war between Wutai and Midgar had ended. Then, he had personally led a small, hand – picked band of trusted men, tasked to venture deep behind enemy lines to carry out assignments that even a SOLDIER would hesitate to attempt. James Gainsborough had been a 1st Class SOLDIER, a member of the crack team he had headed… and the only person under his command to die during the war.
Almost all of their operations consisted of nothing but sure – fire opportunities to end their lives prematurely, but he and his team took pride in jesting with death, confident of their skills and determined to stay alive, eager to get the job done and get the credit for it. They had all survived the perils and the uncountable odds they had faced, emerging from it all unscathed. Until one summer morning, on the day the war had ended…
He had been asked to lead the victory parade through the streets of the Wutaian capital. Even though he cared little about festivities and grand celebrations of any kind, he had been obliged to do so, being the commander – in – chief of Shinra forces. The Publicity Subcommittee had asked him to ride a white charger at the head of his armies, and he had grudgingly agreed. At any rate, he allowed his commando team to march in the place of honour behind him, rewarding them for their loyal service by giving them the recognition they had long craved.
Not five minutes after Sephiroth had entered the city did he suddenly find himself flung off his horse, hearing a dull thud beside him and one of his men groaning quietly. He had recovered quickly, and he saw a ninja in the crowds, about to throw another shuriken at him. One leap, and a quick slash with the Masamune silenced him. He had returned to the fallen man, discovering that it was Gainsborough who had saved his life. But the SOLDIER was already beyond help. He had been wounded in the shoulder, but the shuriken had been meant for the General all along. It had been tipped with the fastest acting poison known, causing death within three seconds. Thus, he had to perform the solemn duty of breaking the news of the man's death to his next – of – kin, something he'd never hoped to have to do during his time as a commanding officer. The great Sephiroth would have to eat his humble pie.
Gainsborough's wife had simply taken the bad tidings without comment, but she had not cried at all. Her shoulders had simply loosened, her hands falling to her side, nodding silently at his words, as if she had been expecting it all along. She had excused herself then, offering to bring him a drink. But then, he heard the sounds of a struggle from within the kitchen, and he had rushed in, sword at the ready. The woman was holding a knife in her hand, placing it at her throat, while a little girl was clinging onto her skirts, pleading with the lady not to take her own life. She had begged the bereaved spouse not to orphan her, not to leave her alone in this world. The woman had stared at the child for a long time, before lowering the knife and embracing her. The two of them had cried together, for now they had only each other to rely upon now. And that girl… how could he possibly forget her?
That girl… those large, tearful green eyes, glittering in a way even his Mako enhanced eyes could not compare to. The small, shining face, soft and warm. That large toothy smile of hers, those sweet, rose – red lips, the long, abundant and silky straight hair of hers tied back with a little pink ribbon. She was so wonderfully adorable, so amazingly cherubic. She was only a sapling then, but she would blossom into a beautiful lady who would be able to melt the hardest hearts… or save the world. That sweet little kid he'd seen back then was now the young woman he had killed once, and nearly killed again, the teenage girl whom he had pledged fealty to unwillingly, that messed – up wreck of a person who now lay more dead than alive in a hospital not far from here…
Gainsborough. It seemed that he could never cease to be indebted to that girl's family. Professor Gast and Auntie Ifalna had become his foster parents, trying for that girl just because he felt lonely. James Gainsborough had sacrificed his life for his superior officer, just to give him a few more years of life… but what a lot of good that had done. It was so strange that he was so inextricably linked to her, destined to be with her because of what her natural and foster parents had done for him. He could never run away from her, it seemed.
Another man entered the bar. The barkeeper fumed silently, as this was another strange customer he had. The newcomer wore a red cloak and a matching scarf that covered his face up to his crimson – coloured eyes. He had an artificial hand made in the shape of a sharpened claw, and if his appearance was not intimidating enough, the large handgun holstered at his hip deterred anything more than a casual glance at him.
Pointing to the beer keg mounted in front of him, the red – eyed man silently ordered and paid for his draught, taking a long and leisurely drink from his tankard, either not knowing, or more likely, not caring about the fact that the enemy he had fought against only one year ago was sitting beside him.
Sephiroth knew immediately who he was. This dark and sorrowful man had fought him not to seek revenge for a loved one, not to stop the Meteor from destroying the Planet, nor to get all the choice materia mounted on the Masamune. He had fought… to conquer his past. He had let go of it at last. He had won the battle with his demons. The silver – haired man could not help but feel envious at the one – armed man, for he had won the war. He seemed thin and weak, but he possessed the courage and tenacity to do what the former general could not accomplish despite having superior powers, the advantage of hindsight, a faithful weapon... and a "guardian angel" he didn't want.
Apparently, even though the red – cloaked gunman had not seen Sephiroth looking closely at him, it seemed that he had sensed that someone was observing him quietly. He put down the mug and turned around, fixing a bloody – eyed gaze at the tall warrior, waiting as if he was expecting his counterpart to say something. There was a short silence, and then the black – garbed SOLDIER began to speak, one of his hands retreating into his pocket.
"… Are you the one named Valentine?"
"………."
There was another pause, and he took another long drink from the tankard.
"… Indeed…"
The general pulled a small case out of his tunic, wordlessly pushing it across the bar counter, showing it to Vincent. The wooden box was now stained a dark mahogany, a bloody valentine… how apt. Even the Midgar Zolom he had impaled along the way to Junon had not bled as much as that girl. Once he had left her in the Kalm Sanatorium, he had hurriedly retreated to his room, refusing to let anyone else see him like this, placing himself under the shower for an interminable period of time with his eyes shut tightly, for he knew that he had once looked like this before, covered from head to toe with the blood of too many innocents. He had assiduously washed and scrubbed and scraped the mess she had made off his clothing and equipment, but even now he was still finding several reddish – brown flecks fall out of his shoulder – guards and armlets. His hands still bore the deep marks her fingers had left upon him earlier on. It seemed that he could never be free of that Gainsborough, as she was trying her very worst to ingrain herself into every fibre of his life.
Vincent opened the box, examining its contents for several minutes, before closing it and tucking it away on his person. He stared at the floor, his head lowered, and it was a long time before he spoke again.
"You have met… Lucrecia?"
"Yes… my mother asked me to give this to you. She is in heaven now, and she wished me to tell you that there is hope… even for a sinner."
The lone gunman closed his eyes, his metal claw closing slowly, his mouth a thin line as he took in his lover's words. When he came to at last, his eyes seemed a little larger, the red stare slightly less harsh, and his features had softened considerably.
"So… you have found out the truth then, Sephiroth?"
"Yes… that is why I am here."
Vincent studied the former villain closely, gazing at the adopted son he might have known had he been but braver and more decisive when it had counted. The sight of Lucrecia's gift and the silver – haired man's mere presence should have reminded the embittered Turk about his lifetime of failures, the thirty lost years he had endured in the coffin. Vincent should have become more melancholy and moodier as the skeletons in his closet were exposed. Sephiroth however was surprised when Valentine stayed completely relaxed and composed, totally unaffected by the demons. He could not believe it when the man with the metal hand smiled at him.
"It is good that you are here at last. Don't give up, Sephiroth, you are on the way… towards finding forgiveness."
The one – armed man returned to his drink. This time, he sipped the beer slowly, as if he was enjoying it for the first time, gently resting the mug on the table, the smile still on his face.
Sephiroth frowned. He had seen this Vincent Valentine several times, and that strange fellow with the red cape was the only man in Strife's group who had not taken pleasure in killing him. This man had been the only member of Avalanche (discounting Gainsborough and her promises) who had not possessed a single dram of hatred towards him. Despite what he had done, Valentine had spoken to him only with the utmost civility… treated him just like any other person he had met… because he had known the truth. He knew a fellow sufferer when he saw one. Sephiroth did not want people to whisper words of encouragement into his ear, and would never ask anyone for sound advice, but perhaps he could trust Valentine with this question he had wanted to ask for a long time. He had been the most aloof and detached of this company, and perhaps he might receive from him a more dispassionate opinion about her. He reminded himself that he wasn't asking for advice, he was gathering intelligence about his enemy. Still, he had to pause a few times to keep himself from stuttering, and he could not help but bite her name off quickly.
"… What can you tell me… about that… Gainsborough?"
The gunslinger turned back to him, gazing at him thoughtfully, pondering that unexpected question.
"Aeris…? I heard from Elmyra that you are journeying with her now…" he began, ignoring the scowl that had appeared on the ex – villain's face by reflex.
"I do not profess to know very much about her, but this little I can tell you… Aeris is an excellent travelling companion. She is brave and will not hesitate to protect the people in her party, including you…
"You do not need to worry about her intentions, either. There was a time when one of our number betrayed the group… even though he was working for the enemy, she was the very first to forgive him. In fact, she even placed her faith in him, giving him a far greater responsibility… to summon forth the Black Materia. She bears no grudges even against those who have wronged her. When she smiles, there is no malice behind it. You may trust her implicitly.
"Aeris may seem quite shallow and flighty at first, but she definitely knows what is important. However, even though she tries her best to remain cheerful and lively, I sense… some angst… some bitterness underneath it all. She too is searching for something. Remember that the clown can be the most cheerful person in the house… but he is often the saddest too. You might want to try to understand her better… perhaps this will ease some of the potential misgivings you may have about her."
Vincent finished his drink, getting up silently. He leisurely pushed the folds of his cloak behind him, pulling up his scarf to eye level, casually removing one black lock from his face.
"Sephiroth… I thank you for this gift. Believe in yourself… and in her. Make Lucrecia proud of you." His voice was soft but clear, and his red eyes were glinting quietly in the smoky tungsten lamps of the bar. Slowly and with definite tread he stepped through the archway and out into the streets, the moonlight casting a long, tall shadow behind him.
Valentine had chosen this particular moment to leave the pub, letting him reflect alone over what he had said, smoothly and artfully dodging all the questions that were coming up in his mind, leaving him to find for himself the evidence and the confirmation he wanted to have. That was better, perhaps. There was only so little that could be gained by telling him all this… he would have to keep his eyes open, and wait to be shown the rest.
So… even Vincent Valentine, his mother's lover, the one person in Avalanche from whom he had expected an unbiased and nonpartisan view, had also vouched for that little Cetra. It was extremely disturbing, the way Gainsborough was able to win the hearts and the minds of the most unrelated and unlikely people in particular. Like Strife, she was able to influence others to think positively about her, to sympathise with her, to make them keep absolute faith in her. A dangerous foe is bad enough by himself, but he is by far the more threatening when he is able to gather the popular voice to back him up.
It was so strange that everyone he had met was telling him the same story about her… practically everybody. He had heard nothing save far – fetched tales about how heroic, how sweet, how unselfish this mere gardener was. And now, staring out from the window, he could see a junction in the tracks his mind was riding on… a dark and unlit turning he had to consider. Were they right? Was he wrong? But so far, he had not seen the Ancient doing anything to support their assertions. True, she had asked him to spare Strife's life, but most probably it was because she wanted to protect her investment in him, if not as a lover, then as a friend. He had nothing to rely on save a few verbal accounts here and there, despite the fact that they had come from reliable sources, and he would not let down his guard until he was satisfied that this Gainsborough and her conduct was proven beyond all shadow of reasonable doubt. It could be that she had it well planned, that her propaganda campaign had been all – inclusive, covering all possible bases. He would have to stay on the well – trodden path in case this was a trap.
Valentine had told him that there was something wrong with Gainsborough… her intentions might not be as pure as she would want her supporters to believe. She could not possibly hide everything under that meek and mild exterior, and no doubt she was up to no good. He did not want to remind himself that it was precisely because of him that the girl was enduring emotional upheaval and the problem of readjusting to life. She was certainly thinking of something unwholesome even as she licked the wounds he had given her. He would have to keep watch on her all right.
The man with the long sword got off his seat, striding quickly out of the bar. No sooner had he stepped out the door was it slammed shut and bolted fast by the barkeeper, who was adamant that he wouldn't be serving any more super late – night customers. He sighed in relief. At least they didn't try to murder him or something. Or worse, have a duel in his tavern and mess everything up with their blood and guts and vomit. Turning to the bar counter, he took the glass the black – cloaked man had used. He hadn't taken a drop of it… what the heck was going on with him? He was obviously trying to seek some relief by getting his best brew, but what could possibly ail him such that not even something hard could help him in the slightest bit? No matter, the drink was still quite viable. Going to the liquor cabinet, he carefully tipped back the contents of the glass into the bottle from whence it had come. Waste not, want not. He had just gotten some free gil, and hopefully the next patron would conserve his drink in the same way.
*****
Despite the fact that the night was no longer young, all the lights in the corridor were switched on, making it as bright as day. But apart from that, there was absolutely nothing else that disturbed him. He was the only person here now, at two in the morning, and this suited him just fine. Those unfamiliar faces would simply stare him down again. They would see the blood on his clothes even if he washed them until they turned white. The central air – conditioning had been turned off, servicing only the patients' rooms at this moment, and he could hear only the all – too familiar ring in his ears… thank goodness he could hear his own footsteps. He didn't need to be reminded of living in that place, of what had happened to him earlier…
He found himself asking what he was doing here. He was a general, used to taking the fight to his enemy, confronting his foe full in the face, not sneaking around like a lowly spy. He had told himself that he was here, to conduct a reconnaissance on his enemy, to see if he could find a potential flaw beneath her shining armour that he could exploit. What he had seen earlier in the day was heartening enough to make him venture again into her lair. He had hidden in a corner outside Gainsborough's room, listening to the mushy exchange between Strife and the Ancient. So that girl was not invincible after all… she too was susceptible to human emotions. Love had turned that seemingly brave and supremely confident woman into a crybaby, a blubbering milksop who had shed ignominious tears over a lost thing rather than proud blood in the field of battle. It seemed that she knew nothing about soldiery and war.
Love was the last thing that a warrior could ill afford. Thinking of his beau in battle would distract him, opening himself to an attack from an enemy who was not fettered by such an encumbrance. Whenever a soldier went into combat, were not those men that he would be killing lovers too? They had left their wives, their girlfriends, their children at home to fight in the same way he had left his lover behind to join the war. How would he be able to fight if he were to sympathise with those whose lives he would tear apart, feel the anguish and heartbreak he would cause if he were to kill his target? His blade would be blunted, his finger would stiffen on the trigger, and he would cease to be effective as a fighter. The best swordsmen and warriors were loveless people by nature, for love and war were mutually exclusive. You could choose only one or the other. To have one, you would have to sacrifice the other permanently. That foolish young Cetra, powerful as she was, had failed to realise even this simple concept, and now, she was merely suffering for her folly and naïveté. This was her weakness. He had promised her parents not to harm her, but if that Gainsborough decided to resume the battle with him… he would not need to rely on the Masamune this time to defend himself. He would not even need to kill her to bring about her defeat… to end his suffering…
At last Sephiroth reached her room. His hand hovered above the handle for a second, but he would follow through with this course of action now. He gripped it quietly but firmly, turning it slightly but far enough for him to inch the door away from him slowly, a hair's breadth at a time, his eyes focusing into the growing blackness in front of him, his ears paying careful heed to the stillness beyond the dark portal, but nothing stirred at all. If he had not seen her wounded and heavily bandaged chest rise and fall slowly under the thick white sheets, and if he had not seen the machines at her bedside trace their endless sine waves on the black and green display screens, he would have thought that she was dead. But the Ancient was merely asleep.
Finally the door was fully open, and he carried out his entry step by step, the rubber soles on his knee – length boots concealing his encroaching presence. Now he was one foot away from Gainsborough, and the light was flowing in, bright enough to see her features clearly, but not glaring enough to wake her up. At last he could behold his sworn enemy up close and personal for the very first time.
Her face was small and heart – shaped, and as he looked closer, he was surprised to see that her skin was completely clean and free of any form of fault at all. There were no freckles, no spots, not even a single mole. She was as pale as marble, and her complexion was smoother than water and softer than milk. Her chin was small, yet not pointed and her nose was delicate and finely shaped, without a single sharp edge. Those large doe eyes of hers were closed at the moment, her lids like curtains draped over those wondrous weapons that lay within, her long lashes fine little tassels waiting to be pulled and drawn open. Every muscle on her face was relaxed, her brows sloped gently downwards, and her tiny, rose – red lips were softly and lightly closed, betraying no hint of the emotional breakdown he had witnessed earlier in the day. Her hair had been let down, and the long brown tresses spilled over her shoulders, covering her ears, flowing down her back in one voluminous wave, each individual strand swaying slightly in the light breeze that blew from above. In other words, she was in a state of complete repose and absolute peace.
He wondered for a moment why the Planet had given his worst enemy such sheer loveliness and luminous charm. She was evil in its prettiest form. Even stranger was how such a devious imp like her could appear so clear and tranquil even when she was not on her guard, for even the most villainous characters were able to keep their expressions closed and impenetrable while they were conscious, but they could not maintain such a degree of control even when they were not awake. But he knew why this was so, and he could not help but envy the fact that her spirit, strong as it was, had been allowed to fly upwards, spending the night in another plane, while her body rested and waited in absolute bliss for the next day to come. It seemed unfair that even a sinner like her was allowed to find succor in sleep, yet he was plagued by those ghosts every time he closed his eyes.
Sephiroth had seen her like this only one other time, in the not – so – distant past… he was in the Forgotten Capital then, sitting high up in one of the lifeless coral trees above the shell house. In the shade of the half – light he had watched Strife place his lover's remains in the lake. Even though she had come to a violent end upon the Masamune, she had still maintained a semblance of perfect contentment and calmness. She did not look dead at all, but appeared as if she had only been sleeping, as if those eyes of hers would spring open as soon as she hit the cold water. Even in death, the sickly – sweet smile had stayed on her face. And when the puppet reluctantly released her body at last, he saw her sink quietly into the depths. Her hair, freed from her ribbon, had spread out slowly and curled out under her, like a pair of angel's wings, wrapping itself over her small and slight figure. Her hands came up slowly, as if she was begging Strife not to let her go…
She had been at her most beautiful at this very last moment, just before the lake enfolded itself over its eternal charge. For just a second, he had felt something alien rise in him, something gnaw at his conscience. Was he actually feeling sad that he'd destroyed this vision of loveliness? But he had pushed that wimpish thought aside instantly. His "mother" had told him that she was but another of those fallen ones, that she had deserved this fate by pretending to be a Cetra, and he had promptly dismissed this incident out of hand. But now, now that he knew better… had it been right for him to strip the Planet of this natural wonder, this flawless treasure? Was it not cruel of him to have ruined the lives and the future of those two lovebirds, made the two of them live together forever with sadness and regret? But all was fair in love and war. No doubt she would have known and accepted the risks of carrying out a suicide mission like this. She had chosen the warrior's path to defeat him, and to do so she had given up her lover in order to gain the power to bring about his destruction. Gainsborough had only herself to blame for her current plight.
He detected the slightest hint of movement, and he realised that she had opened her eyes. He found himself staring deeply into those angel eyes, but he assured himself that it was still safe to do so at the moment. Even as she returned to a state of wakefulness, her spirit was still travelling back to its mortal dwelling, and it would be a moment before the intelligence returned to them. Yet they were already working their magic on him. Those bright aquamarine jewels were impossibly large, almost filling up the entire space from the upper to the lower lids, and he could see that they were patterned like a rose, mysterious and difficult to unravel. In the centre of it all, her pupils were small, and looking within, he could see, glowing far under the depths, the little spark that was always alive in her. The whites of her eyes were clear and shining, the blood vessels finer than even a hair and almost invisible. And the very shape of her eyes – from the tearducts her upper eyelids sloped gently upwards before falling steeply to the sides, while its counterpart below went rapidly downwards at the onset before making a slight curve back up, joining the former to become the perfect case for storing and displaying those priceless green gems within. Those strange layered lids made her eyes very wide indeed, and their shape was such that they would always portray a perpetual expression of pure wonder and strangeness.
He then noticed the unearthly, unwholesome glint coming back into her eyes, and he cursed himself for staring at them too long. There was no way he could retreat or make a dignified escape now. He had been caught by her spell, and now he would have to stay and pay the price. She began to smile… yet again. But this time, he noticed two small depressions forming on her cheeks. Those dimples were showing now, and he was suddenly reminded of that little girl he'd seen so many years ago…
"Sephiroth… I knew you'd come… Thank you for saving me."
The voice. Her eyes and her voice. This was a powerful magic that was known even before the Cetra came to this world, even before they learned how to control the Planet's powers, long before materia was born. She knew how to use it, and she had nearly trapped him this time. He turned away from Gainsborough quickly, closing his eyes, his hands stiffening at his side as he tried to suppress an urge to cover his ears. He would not fall for her charm. If he had not hidden (like the treacherous snake he knew he was) and observed her earlier, he would have thought that his enemy was indeed a cold – blooded creature, able to resist anything at all, but now he knew better. She was as vulnerable as he was, but she was merely putting on an act. At least his chances of winning the fight were better now.
"I shall make this clear, Gainsborough. I do not do this for you. You are fortunate indeed that I owe your relatives a debt of gratitude, otherwise I would have simply left you to die."
He began to step through the doorway, but not before she could fix him in her sights and end it with a parting shot.
"You wouldn't have done that, Sephiroth… but you just don't want to admit it, that's all. There's no need to be angry about this… because I know you really aren't."
The door slammed loudly behind Aeris, and she was left alone to herself again. She had managed to look straight into him at long last. This was the villain who had killed her, the murderer who had placed her in this very quandary. Yet why did she not feel sad at his very presence, and why did she not feel angry the moment she set eyes on him? This was the one who had opened her heart to the darkness, made her understand what pain really was, what sacrifice really meant, giving her bloody instructions that she never wanted to hear about. But what she had seen, if only just for one ephemeral flash in time, had given her pause.
Sephiroth's appearance had been so different from all the times that she had seen him. This time, his face seemed much less contorted, far less constricted than before. His head had been slightly bowed as he had looked at her, and his brows, thick and white and fluid as if they had been painted with a calligraphy brush, were sloping acutely downwards, almost meeting the eyes. His mouth was one long, thin line, devoid for once of the trademark smirk that had been second nature to him. The swordsman's hair was straight and drawn behind his back, and his bangs were far longer than hers, reaching down to his neck. Even as he was silhouetted by the light behind him, she could see his long mane glitter slightly, shining like a river of liquid platinum. The light breeze coming from the air – conditioning vents reached him too, and slowly this metallic sea shifted from right to left, not a strand out of place, cold but somehow alive. His face was fair and free of scars, his chin was sharp, his nose long and slightly pointed. The pale lips were pursed, yet they were not tightly drawn together as they always were. He had been lost in serious contemplation, and even as he was silhouetted by the light streaming in behind him, he seemed to her… very deep, black and brooding, almost like… a dark cloud.
And she had seen his eyes… they were small and narrow crescents, yet wide enough for him to observe his surroundings with superb clarity. They were a clear light turquoise, deeply lined like the spokes of a wheel, all drawing her towards the centre, where his pupils were dilated, taking more of the dim light around him, hungering to discover everything around him. Yet as her gaze went deeper, examining the expanding black spheres closer… she felt as if she was falling into a tunnel without an end, a vacuum filled with deepest space… it was as she was staring into the infinite mysteries of the cosmos that the Black Materia held within its secret recesses. And that green ghostly sheen that covered everything… how could she ever forget that strange glow? It was bright and piercing, yet it was as not harsh as it always had been. Those eyes were careful and watchful, always ready to close at a moment's alarm, always ready to change if someone tried to plumb their depths to find out what was within, yet they were searching intently, looking for something that was still missing, something that could fill that void… They so lovely, yet so dark… they were the eyes of a fallen angel…
So… was this really the person she had been hoping to see all along? This time, she had not seen the picture of confidence and poise that had characterised him as a general and the consummate warrior. Jealousy and arrogance, the mark of a knave and a villain, did not mar his features this time. This was the human who was keeping the secrets of the past locked within him. This was the man who was climbing to the light. Free of its mask, the face beneath was well sculpted, possessing a certain fine and elfin quality about it. There was something new about him that she'd never seen before.
The flower maiden was feeling drowsy again… a nurse had come in hours earlier, giving her an injection, telling her that she would feel better in a while. For a long time she had resisted the poison in her blood, trying to hold off the depressants that were making her heart stay silent, slowing down her breathing, forcing her mind into unconsciousness… She didn't want to sleep, but she had no strength to fight, and she had fallen back into that same dream again, seeing those eyes again, looking at that face again. Yes, it was so unexpected to see her worst enemy staring at her the moment she regained her senses, but strangely she felt as if she had been pleasantly awakened from her sleep. She had seen the moon; it was cold, and the light it gave was muted, yet somewhat… welcoming. He reminded her of an anti – hero, those grim and errant knights who were forever immortalised in the stories she had always loved to read.
The blackness caught up with her, and just before she was spirited away, she could not help but notice how much Sephiroth had in common with someone she knew once, how much the one – winged angel resembled him…
Even as Aeris slept, the smile on her face did not freeze…
A/N: Ah! At last! A chapter up after so long! I must be getting writer's block! But I hope this is long enough to keep you entertained for a little while.
I'll just talk about the little nitty bits that inspired me to add more wordy bulk to this chapter. Remember that famous pix with Aeris looking at the Highwind from a distance? It's quite emotive in its little way. She longs to take to the skies, to ride on the airship. It's as if she wants something more out of life, a new and better experience than what she's doing right now, stuck on the tarmac. Sadly, as we all know, she wasn't able to realise her dreams. In fact, as Cloud stated later, she has to give them all up for the Planet's benefit. It's ironic that Cloud said this… on the bridge of the Highwind, on which he promised her to take her on. It's so sad; you can dream of something, but you can never hope to achieve it due to circumstances beyond your control.
I also decided to add my views on one esoteric little bone of contention in FF7; why doesn't Aeris bleed when she gets struck by the Masamune, while Sephiroth looks all gross and bloody when Cloud slices him up? It could be that the Masamune is a holy sword, and I decided to tweak that idea just a bit. Makes Sephy fear and respect her just a little bit more.
"A love that can never be." I went across one Cloud / Aeris site (I may have told you about this already) with a number of articles speaking about their love affair, and one said that this phrase came from an early FF7 commercial. Another article talks about the theme (how noble!) of how people try to fight against the inevitable and the impossible, and I wondered if the thought - provoking advertisement was connected with this theme. Yet another writer points to evidence within the game, arguing that Cloud does not stop loving her even after she dies (the author said that all the lines he spoke in remembrance of Aeris is 1/3 the total number he speaks to Tifa in Disc 2 and 3!). It is also implied that in the end, Cloud decides to search for her in the Promised Land, even though it's not clear exactly how he'll do it, since the Promised Land is supposedly a place accessible only after death, and you need to be an Ancient to go there. The article went on to say that this theme is often explored in Japanese film and drama, and in one 17th century play, two lovers, unable to be together due to the strife between their families, go into the woods together to commit seppuku (ritual suicide). Cloud had to make a choice; to chase a potentially unattainable dream (finding Aeris, wherever she is), or accepting reality and making the practical choice to take Tifa. But in my story, Cloud sadly gives up looking for her, and marries Teef. Is he to be blamed for doing so? Is Aeris justified in blaming him for losing faith in her?
"………" This is the infamous phrase which is said in every FF game. Another article on that site (I must really look for the URL again) talked at length about symbolism and Japanese culture in the game, and after reading it, there was so much that I'd never noticed while playing the game. The authors of the game drew heavily on Japanese ideas, motifs and symbols to put their ideas across. For example, Aeris is dressed in pink and red, which are the colours of love to the Japanese, while Tifa is dressed in more sombre colours, like black and white (white is the colour of death). Cloud does not speak very often, and expresses his feelings more in the form of gestures such as scratching his head, and does not speak of his love to Aeris, as the Japanese feel that such deep feelings should never be spoken out loud, that the best way to put your message across is through your conduct, and rather, what you don't say. Silence also takes on added meaning, perhaps more than what can be said, as the person who holds his peace is contemplating what you have just said, and he is taking your words to heart. Note that Aeris never says this "word" during the course of the game, so I guess this can be a bit out of character to some.
Oh… and the red specks coming out of Sephy's armour is dried blood, not rust, as my sister, who saw that little line, so nicely pointed out to me…=)
To my readers: THANK YOU for waiting so patiently for me to update!
To NuregoftheElves:
You have given me high praise… almost too high in fact. Tetsuya Nomura was a genius, and I don't see how I will ever be able to write epics like him… if you want something better than mine try Zahra's Snow Fields fic… looking at it makes me see how far more I have to go. Oh well… if my work was flawless, I would win a Booker Prize every year… heh heh. Thanks for making my day, at any rate!
To Starfall4790:
Sephy being cute? I guess he just doesn't want to admit it. Cloud as the "slum drunk"? Yeah, I considered that idea when writing the chapter, and I wanted to laugh at that idea… you don't see dead people everyday, and he was already quite badly hurt to boot, so he'd probably swoon away… "Aeris… this can't be real!" Then again, Cloud is made of sterner stuff, and you really wouldn't expect him to pass out just because he sees his dead girlfriend, so I guess his behaviour here is slightly OOC, but I made him tune out to serve a more practical purpose… imagine Sephiroth and Cloud fighting over the right to bring Aeris to hospital! Sephy promised her not to kill him, but that didn't mean that he had to save him, after all… Cloud is his enemy after all.
To Chibi Taryn Demon:
Thank goodness you added my fic to your fave list, otherwise you'd have to check back every now and then and that can be slightly tedious. I hope you were sufficiently overjoyed to see the "Author Alert" message! I myself am hoping that my story will go well… I obviously want to write something good, am currently trying to sift out the fruit punch in the head and see whether I can scrape something off the bottom.
To Starling94:
How will Squall and Rinoa turn out in their new world? Will Riona die? Is this going to be an Aeriseph too? Cloud being the blond - haired bad guy… now this is something new. Cloud / Edea. Very unconventional indeed. Update A Plot Between Two Worlds soon!
To EnchantedMiko:
Yes… this is sad… and I hope this chapter is sufficiently tearjerking… I've watched too many Hongkong swordfighting dramas where the good guy and the bad guy clobber each other, the girl likes both of them, and really doesn't want to see any of them die, so she goes forward and gets stabbed by one of them. The combat ends, and both guys decide not to hurt each other for a while. You see, I lack creativity, so I make do with what I know, so don't think too highly of me (or my false modesty at any rate). This idea sounded so fun to put in writing, and I'm quite happy it turned out quite all right. Yes, I will definitely continue… I want to continue…
To Homunculus:
This is a late chapter because my term has just started. Sorry for the delay. Congrats on getting to college. Study hard. I'm not hitting the books though everyone else is doing so. Great. I'll either die, or worse, get expelled.
Sephy is very mushy here. And not to mention highly unreasonable and stubborn. But the mushier he gets, the more you think of him as a human being, not a monster out to take over the Planet's energy.
Man, the Cid/Aerith idea is damned appealing. But I am already working on this fic, and this idea will have to sit on the backburner for a long while I think.
Getting Kairi out of the way isn't too hard, give her to Riku. But Cloud might possibly raise some grievous objections to Sora making out with Aerith. Getting spikey out of the way is the hard part.
To Falling Rain:
(Whisper): I didn't take Aeris very seriously at first, too. But the more I look at her, the more I observe her mannerisms and behaviour in the game, and what she says, I think she should be every guy's dream girl! Cloud / Tifa is a very good pairing, make no mistake, but things can become quite grim sometimes since they're both very moody and withdrawn. On the other hand, Aeris will cheer Cloud up no end, to the point of distraction perhaps. I think a nice girl like Aerith should get a nice guy like Cloud, but isn't Tifa a nice person too? I guess it's a matter of personal choice… do you prefer the strong and silent type, or the sickeningly sweet and giggly girl?
To Crow T R0bot:
Earlier on, I used a version of the script found on a popular website, but sadly, it was incomplete. I got a better copy, and after reading it, I guess it can be construed both ways; it can be said that Sephy is really Hojo's son, or, as JenesisX proposes, Sephy was the ultimate result of Vinny's secret liaison. Oh well, at least my error doesn't seem so bad now, I guess.
Oh… Frankenstein is a joke… the disclaimer was also meant to fulfill a secondary purpose of making the reader laugh… especially about the part with the Chibi - Aeriths!
To the Constructicons:
Yes… I agree that the teletubbies are so sickeningly goody - goody, they're evil! The mere sight of them makes my blood turn to brake fluid. Gah! Why mess things up when you can ask someone else to do it for you?
To Phantom Kensai:
Do not weep… I could not complete the FF games without a walkthrough… FF7 is difficult to master, and it's almost impossible to get everything right, like saving all the Huge Materia or defeating all the Weapons, or getting 5000+ points for Speed Square (I had an emulator, so I slowed down the frame rate, and ta - da! I managed to get Aeris' Umbrella (for whatever good it did)).
Don't go so hard on Aaron Allston… I would consider him giving a nod to FF7, and how good it is… she's the bad girl, and Professor Gast is a good guy, no matter what he did in the game. Does Edda Gast have a daughter called Aerith, by any chance? I've not read the book (stopped reading X-Wing after Michael Stackpole stopped writing the series), are there any more FF7 connections? Interesting.