:: Heart Less Love ::

No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness. ~Aristotle

Part Nineteen: Degeneration

"..ake up..."

It was summer.

She was stood in a brilliant field that wavered between green and yellow, the yellow where the flowers opened their faces up to the sunlight and drank deep of those solar rays. Sometimes she saw flashes of white in the sky, puffy clouds that made their achingly slow way over the universe. She wore her usual pink dress, and it flowed to her ankles. There was no red jacket today and about her neck was a loosely clasped collection of threads.

She reached up and touched the ribbon woven into the peak of her braided ponytail, feeling the small knob of white materia nestled in the protective weaves. It was still there, it was still safeguarding her in its way, a memento of a mother she never truly got to know.

"That girl, she said the sky frightened her."

In surprise she turned about to her left and saw him standing ten or a little more metres away from her, his head tilted back and looking up at the sky. He looked slightly different to how she'd remembered him, how he'd left her as. His hair was longer and his skin paler, and his scars on his cheek seemed to be more comfortable than new and angry. But his eyes were wiser and his smile sadder, sweetly so; much more than she could recall. This was a Zack who had seen the world in all the glory and ill it could be cloaked in, and had taken it to his heart lovingly.

This was Zack.

"Zack, is it really you?" Her voice was like his, an echo or a memory. She sounded fragile and lost, she sounded like she had thrown her dreams across rocks and left them to rot, then came back to the sweet compost they had made to grow new flowers in.

"You've changed," He didn't look down yet, he seemed so interested in the sky that was the same colour as his eyes. It caught her to quick to realise that however much she deeply loved Tifa, she would always compare the sky with his eyes, and that her perfect day compromised the exact shade they were. He was her first love, as precious to her as her Cetra abilities, or her mothers. "This world is beautiful though. I should have guessed you'd have flowers here. You should know it's me, this is me. I missed you."

The plain and simple words caught in her throat. She swallowed, chin dimpling faintly against tears. "I missed you too, but, what are you doing here?"

"I decided to walk the Hero's way again. I know she needs my help, more than you ever did."

"I needed your help?"

"You did. You were so alone and scared, you needed a hand to help you start moving through this world. But now, things have changed again. You're no longer dead, and the threat is still present and as dangerous as ever. You need to move, or the heart of your world will suffer."

"I don't understand, why..." Her eyes filled up, curse her emotions! "Zack, where are you?"

"That's a little better," Those beautiful blue eyes finally looked at her, tilting his head and for a moment she wanted to run to him and cry. She wanted his arms to hold her and comfort her, to tell her that things would work out in the end. She wanted to apologise for leaving their love behind, she wanted him to really meet Tifa, to come back and be in her life again, to be there. Then she wasn't standing still any longer and she was moving towards him. "I'm in Midgar, right now, deep beneath the ruins."

"What's down there?"

"The secrets and the lies; they're all down there. That's where you have to go whether you like it or not."

"I'm scared," She whispered, and held back from adding, 'I need help'.

Zack's face was misty, and as she got to him and reached to touch his arm gently, her hand passed through as if swatting simple air. Closing her fingers, she drew her hand back and stared helplessly up into his kind, wise face and those brilliant blue eyes that endured, melting into the sky as his voice was carried off by that dreadful wind she had felt so long, long ago. "She needs it more."

"Zack, ZACK!"

But he was gone.

"-if you...'t wake...one, gone, ple..."

Aerith itched at her shoulder, there was a strange pressure there and a moment of massaging it distracted her enough that she nearly missed the whisper of a cloak brushing against her legs, cold in comparison to the warm sunshine of this world. She stiffened, her nose catching the familiar scent of rust, that coppery and decaying tang. Her mouth dried up and then she closed her eyes, mouthing the words 'really?' to herself.

"Melding with the Planet, I will cease to exist as I am now."

His voice was strange. It was dominated by regret, which made the usual dark and rich tones a new dirge of sorrow and grief. She looked over her shoulder at the man stood so close she could reach out and hold him by the hand. He was so tall, and well muscled, though the black he draped himself in as if in funeral clothes made him look slimmer than he was. His hair was long and silver-white and his sharp featured face drawn with feelings he clearly wished he didn't have.

"You," she said.

His eyes widened, looking at her in surprise. They didn't have the split pupils she remembered, they were a soft green-blue like a calm ocean at dawn. He closed his eyes, then opened then; perhaps wishing that if he did that, she would vanish.

"Then it's true, this is the Promised Land."

Aerith shook her head, "No, this is my Promised Land, everyone has their own."

"I do not. I wonder why that is then..."

"Because Jenova was not Cetra," Aerith's eyes crinkled with a sympathetic smile.

Sephiroth raked his eyes over her fragile frame, then said slowly, "Why am I here in your world then? I killed you, I was driven to destroy everything and anything that had ever felt love."

"I forgave you, it's as simple as that."

"You forgave me?" He clearly didn't believe her, and shook his head. "So I am truly dead then."

"Yes, the will of Jenova has finally gone from your spirit. Jenova, the power of her scions driven mad by the proximity of great radiation; it was this that drove you completely insane. Your time here has cleansed you, it has taken all that pain and confusion away."

"Jenova is a parasite," his beautiful face twisted in pain, "I committed so many horrors."

"No, she wasn't. She was as weak as anyone when presented with an addiction. Jenova loved, she had children, she strove to fight it as hard as she could and in the end failed. It doesn't make her evil, it makes her normal," Aerith smiled and touched Sephiroth's hand, "As were you."

"I was normal..."

"The same as the rest of us."

His answering smile was so terribly sad, "Do you have a weakness, Aerith? I look hard, and did look hard and I couldn't see one."

"Oh I have a terrible weakness... I love too much, I am too giving, too selfless. I think that's an awful weakness, I can never say no."

"I see. Then, I will fade away... I will cease to exist as I am now..."

"Reborn as a God?" She couldn't keep that playful sting out of her voice.

He laughed then; it was so unexpected she was sure the startle showed on her face. "No, little Ancient, reborn as someone normal. Maybe we'll meet again, and this time, I can help..."

"Sephiroth," she said.

But he was fading away, slipping out from under her hand and walking through the grass and the stems of flowers. He lifted his arms to the sunshine, and it flooded through his, glittering and then he was gone. She felt a certain degree of sadness.

"...can you hear m... rith! Aerith! Wake up..."

The pressure was there again and she closed her eyes, dizziness intruding on her. But not before a set of hands touched her shoulders, firmly and preventing her from turning in quick surprise. Her heart hammered on her ribs.

"Just listen," the quiet and calm voice commanded and she felt her muscles relax. This was a voice she had always heard in her ear, whispering through her dreams when she slept. "Things are finally coming to an end of this story. The story of K'listo, Arkilles and Jenova, it is a long and deep story filled with danger and distress, with love and loss. You have been chosen, as the only living Cetra and the descendant of K'listo. Your will is the will that will make the final choice.

"The price of a gift has been determined, and will hinge on what happens. Your gift, the memories, the abilities, use them all."

"Mom..."

But when she wrenched free to try and catch a look at the mother she had only dreamed about, there was nothing. Only flowers, grass and that blue sky for as far as she could see. She stared for a few minutes, and then doubled up.

She was dripping with water?

Quickly running her hands over her face, she gasped, wiping the water out of her eyes and trying to free strands of her fringe from cloying up her mouth. Then another splash, and the pressure on her body pushing her to her knees, into the dirt and into the darkness, tearing this world from her...

"Wake up! Good grief!"

Aerith sat up so quickly that Cid jerked back, afraid she would headbutt him.

"What did you do?" She demanded, a fire in her eyes at being woken so rudely. Her eyes flicked to the cup her held and he made a feeble attempt at miming drinking. Of course the fact that she was dripping wet with the contents of the cup didn't help matters. "I see."

"Sorry, we had to wake you up."

"I was having a dream..." Her face was a riot of emotions, then none as she exerted her usual soft and cheerful calm, composing her delicate features. "How long was I asleep?"

"We all were, you just seemed to resist coming out of it. A day maybe."

"We lost a day?" She frowned, then glanced at the bed, "I wonder why I was under so heavily."

Cid watched her eyes take in the room; Aerith was as sharp as a knife these days, so no doubt she noticed the missing boots and rucksack, or the small pouch of materia that would be missing some of their shared stock, or the coat that was no longer hanging on the back of their room door. He saw this settle in with a relative quickness, and how her eyes slowly closed, mouth pursing faintly.

"She used sleepel materia on us."

"Tifa did?" Aerith wasn't able to keep the surprise nor the unbidden pride from her voice, "well, fancy that... No! I mean, why?"

"She probably did it to keep you safe. Don't you remember doing something similar once?"

"That's not right, the symmetry..." She shook her head, "No, no!"

"Maybe it's not a perfect symmetry this time, but we're going in reverse kind of too," Cid sighed and fumbled at his jacket pocket, then lowered his hand; he knew Aerith would only scowl and throw his damn cigs in the trash can, what would be the point, or indeed cost, of doing this stupid dance again? "This time you came back to life, and now Tifa rushes to her death."

"Her death..." Aerith paled, "Nibelheim."

"It's where the madness started, where she almost died. Last time it was another scion, Sephiroth. This time, it's Yuffie."

"This is terrible!" Aerith threw back the covers and began immediately hunting about her room for her clothes. Cid could hear the wind howling outside, better that she choose warmer clothes. "Hurry Cid!"

"Sweetheart, we're as ready as we'll ever be." The pilot got up and helped her look. His hands found a warm turtleneck sweater in dark green and a pair of tight fitting jogging pants, and knee high boots, both in dark brown. He also added a pair of fingerless knitted gloves to the mix. "Put these on."

"I'm not a child," the ancient retorted.

"No, you're not, but you're also panicking and being hasty. Haste makes waste, Aerith. What you need to do is calm down and think rationally, and clearly. Think in single steps, not big ones, and we'll get to where we need to be."

"Midgar," Aerith said, "But deeper."

"The old Deepground labs?"

"It's the only place they could go." She was peeling off her shift. Cid turned his back politely. "It's deep enough to touch the Lifestream, it's a way of empowerment. If Yuffie has the Black Materia, as we can assume she does, she'll need a lot of power to use it."

Cid couldn't help smiling; once Aerith began thinking logically, her mind was a well tuned machine. He added, "Like the Northern Crater?"

"Exactly. There was such a big wound there that the Lifestream was forced up through the world's crust to try and heal the damage. However, when you get down to it, you just need to be in very close proximity to the lifestream. The deeper you delve, the higher your chances are of completing that connection to the materia." She grunted, "These pants are tight."

"You're getting soft and fat," he grunted. It earned him a wet shift to the back of his head.

"Vincent?"

Cid ripped the shift off his head, blushing furiously. The door had opened and closed, admitting the silent Turk without even so much as alarming them to his presence. Clearly Aerith had only noticed, as she had the roam of the room, Cid was facing the window and staring at the bleak weather.

"You can turn around, I'm decent, I just need to brush my hair and gather my things."

Cid turned with a heaving sigh and then appraised the look of the ex-Turk. Vincent wore a variation on his black suit today, the jacket was cut in a different fashion; double breasted but with one flap folding over the other, tied into place with delicate care and the arms long and form fitting. The trousers billowed only faintly, but they too were tied down and tucked into knee high boots of black. About his neck lay the trademark red scarf, and over this peeked a deep hood also in red. Vincent's hands wre in a set of dangerous looking gloves, free to let his fingers move, but with ridged spines that followed the finger backs. He had a gun holstered at either hip, both of different makes.

"Kitted out for war," Cid remarked.

"Mmm, I have a feeling that will be what we walk into."

"Cloud ready?"

Vincent nodded, "He's on the phone to Barrett. He spoke with Reeve earlier. They're trying to set up relief forces, just incase Yuffie succeeds."

Cid didn't want to think about that, but it seemed present in their minds. What if Yuffie could complete that ritual? What if another Meteor came dropping out of the sky atop them? Cid didn't think there was much left in them to make a stand, not like they had done three times before.

But to his surprise, Vincent continued, leaning against the window pane. "I need to find her."

Aerith looked up from the bag she was stuffing her clothes into, sharing Cid's look. "Yuffie?" the ancient asked softly.

"Yes, I need to find her and tell her... she isn't a nuisance." The red eyes closed, "That I need her more than she needs me."

"Oh," Aerith said, then she smiled. Cid frowned, then gave Aerith a questioning look. The one he got in return was a plain 'men are so slow' look. She mouthed silently, 'They're in love.'

"OH..." Cid, as it crashed in. "By Gaia, are you serious?"

"I am."

"So, does Yuffie know?"

"Yuffie thinks no one loves her, and that love is to be lost," Vincent sighed, "She was always there for me. I need to be there for her. But I cannot do this alone, Aerith," he moved and turned his face towards her, naked pleading written there; it was a look that did not suit him and Cid felt unsettled by this vulnerable side he was seeing. "Please, bring her back to me."

"I think, you should be the one to bring her back to herself, Vincent," she slotted materia into her bracelet, and smiled, "Love can do this. Love can do almost anything."

"So it can..." he said, as the door opened and Cloud poked his head in.

"Guys," he said, his voice worried, "Get to the ship, we have a call and you need to hear this..."

"..is this Cid Highwind?"

"Yes, son," Cid chomped his cig between his teeth, and ignored the pointed look thrown at him by Aerith. He pressed the buttons, making the voice on the line louder.

They'd all crammed onto his baby of a ship, gathering their selves up in the main control room where they had done so many times before. Only this time, they were fewer and older, tired looking and scared. Where Tifa had strafed back and forth by the prow like a nervous gazelle, Aerith seemed to fold into herself now, like a pack of cards. Cloud was leaning over the other side of the comms desk and Vincent was sat by Aerith. His scarf moved faintly and Cid could hear the low rumble of Vincent's voice from this far away, no doubt attempting to calm the fraught Ancient.

Cid felt weary, he didn't remember ever feeling this tired. He would give up a week of smoking if he could just have a worry free nights sleep.

"My name is Kyle, I worked at the hospital."

"I remember him," Aerith said unsteadily, "He was the orderly."

"That's right ma'am, I was. I'm currently undergoing recovery medicine for severe manipulation, luckily it hasn't damaged my mind, but others here haven't been so lucky."

"Long-term materia effects can be detrimental," Cloud smiled, "I'd know that as well as the next one."

"Yes, but you weren't being exposed to the 'manipulation' type. It forces the subject to lose their rational, personal thoughts. All your being caves in and does whatever the wielder of that materia wishes of them." Aerith shuddered. "It's a horrific materia, and takes a special kind of person to use it. And by special, I mean terrible."

"I'm sorry to be so abrupt, but I have something to tell you, something you should be aware of."

"Go on, son, we're not getting any younger," Cid suddenly had one of those awful feelings. It began as a coldness in the pit of his stomach and grew to an icy frost, working its way up his spine and then to his neck. His throat felt choked and his brain began to ache.

"It's about Faben, sir. The doctor, the one who was dead, who manipulated us all. Well you see sir, his body is missing. We don't know where it went. We checked the footage from the morgue sir, and well... it seems like the corpse got up and walked out!"

Aerith's strangled gasp was barely covered, and Cid watched as Vincent swept his arms around the Cetra protectively. For all the faults he may have had, Vincent had a deep soft spot for vulnerable women. Or just women in general. Cid firmed his jaw; this news however was deeply disturbing, walking corpses? It was the stuff of horror, not stuff that happened in real life.

"Sir? I'm sorry to be the bearer of that bad news, sir. I have to go rest now, good luck."

The radio crackled into silence.

Cloud's blue eyes held Cid's, both of them without words for what had been said. The ship was still moving ponderously through the sky, dragging them along towards the heart of where everything always seemed to begin and end, one way another; to Midgar.

She can walk a bit too quickly sometimes, and drags her feet at other times.

When we take breaks, she buries her face into her hands and pretends she isn't crying, talking through it all. She talks to me about the wedding, about her hopes and dreams. She tells me all about her life, the joys and the pains. She says, "I own a bar in Edge, you'd like it I think, it's all modern and clean, I like to use metal in my interiors." and then she'd laugh and add, "But Aerith will..."

Everything is 'Aerith will' or 'Aerith does'.

She is a woman in such deep love that I feel as though I cannot compare as a guide or companion. Not that I can blame her. When I first met Aerith, I didn't expect that attraction I felt. I was always a bit of a ladies man, but she was so different, so fresh.

I loved her deeply, but all things must move on and change.

You probably hardly remember me, I was young when I came to those snow peaked mountains, young when I fought the fires and flames and young when I tried to save your life. In the end, both of us failed.

But that doesn't make us failures, no, it doesn't.

It makes us hard working people.

Are you scared? Going so deep into the earth where the whispers of the plates moving and shifting grumble and groan through the rocks, where the cries of the lifestream echo about in a sweet dirge. You have courage enough for ten lions, I admire that.

I had that too, and still do.

Your eyes are so sad.

Don't give up! I want to tell you that, don't stop trying!

Instead all I can do is stay close to you, follow you and herd you. All I can be is your eyes in the deeper dark places, and make sure you don't break your neck if you step on a rock wrong.

Tifa, you aren't born a hero, you're made one. By actions, by thoughts. Bravery doesn't mean doing heroic, amazing feats. Bravery is facing whatever comes with your head held up high. And the world's more amazing hero will be by your side, as we continue on.

As we walk deeper, I almost hear Aerith, with her laughing voice, "Zack, your head is so inflated!"

And it makes me laugh too.