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Her lungs almost felt like they were filled with kerosene while they burned from subconscious unuse. She gasped for sweet, dear breath as the rest of her senses started to return, her brain gradually catching up to there here and now. It was a dream. It was only a dream, the Flower Girl mused to herself over and over again.
Placing a hand over the side of her face, she wiped away the heavy beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, and then she whipped the bed covers from her. No, it wasn't just a dream. It was a nightmare.
She sat up straight in bed, trying to recollect it all – the gruesome feeling of total failure, the agonizing gnawing in the pit of her stomach while her heart turned into cold, hard, impenetrable stone. All she had left from the nightmare was the terrible sensation, yet nothing of the images or scenarios that caused. Perhaps that was for the better.
Aerith glanced toward the curtainless window at her bedside, discovering that she'd awoken in the still, sleepy hours of early morning – as the sky was blanketed in the tranquil wonder of dark, though the dimmest ghost of purple-violet rested upon the horizon, presenting the sun's patient ascension. Admittedly, Aerith desires nothing more than to open the window and breathe in the crisp air – to take in these fluttering seconds; but there was no time for that. She had to get a move on, before the others woke up.
Hastily, the last living Cetra dressed herself and fled the inn, before anyone had the chance to stir from the comfort of their own precious dreams, before the sunlight could stream through the blinds, before an utterance of protest could be made, before Cloud could use his confused, beautiful, turquoise eyes to erode her resolve completely.
As she had in previous timeline, she headed into the Sleeping Forest with the Temple of the Ancients serving its purpose as her final destination – as it had in lifetimes and cycles prior. Of course, Aerith had internally debated on whether or not going alone was the best course of action. After all, it hadn't done her any good before. Countless times, Aerith made the lonesome trek through the woods while her heart wailed in plea for her to turn back, though her brain countered that the risk of trying a different way could come at a higher cost – one that she wasn't willing to pay. Countless times, Aerith met the exact, same failure; but this way was still safer – predictable, routine; this way there were no opportunities for her friends to be harmed. This way, there was also hope to start from the beginning, and her regrets would stay the same, rather than multiply.
The journey was long and lonely, but at least Aerith could find a modicum of peace within herself – within the knowledge that –
Before the young woman could conclude that last thought, the light crackle of leaves put her on high alert. Immediately, the skillful mage manifested her rod from thin air. "Sephiroth! It's not time yet!" Any normal person would have supposed that a woodland creature or the wind had made such a crisp noise, but Aerith was paranoid, especially when the source of the disturbance slowly emerged from the long silhouette of a tree.
"Cloud!" she exclaimed – a mixture of relief and perplexity threaded her voice.
"Nice of you to finally show up. I thought I was gonna grow old waiting for you to catch up to me." The spiky-haired mercenary stood a few yards away, with his balled hands planted square upon his waist.
"What..." No, no, no! It wasn't suppose to happen like this! "What are you doing here? Why did you follow me?"
With a sort of devil-may-care smirk smearing its away across his peach-colored lips, Cloud nonchalantly strode toward the stricken florist and replied, "Guess I'm not sick of you yet."
"Cloud..." Aerith murmured. The initial shock tapered off as Cloud looked at her directly – fluorite orbs taking earth-green ones captive in a stare that threatened to hold time still – though the surprise was swiftly replaced with irritation. With fear. "Turn around, Cloud, please..."
"Only if you come back with me," he attempted to bargain.
"I can't. I have to see this through to the end," Aerith stated. She was first to break the chains in their eyelock, steadfast on maintaining her resolution.
"Then I'm going with you."
"No!" the usually patient and empathetic Flower Girl shouted in command, agitated at his insistence. "Please, Cloud, please. I am begging you to not follow me!" Desperation puppeteered her every movement, when she clasped her hands around Cloud's, barely able to see through the heavy gloss her tears caused. In truth, Aerith was overjoyed to him. Of course she was. He was actually here. Present. Not a mere dream that she had to sneak her way into. His mere presence alone remained the fair maiden why she'd done all of this in the first place – why, this time, she had band her friends together to defeat Destiny and gave themselves a sliver of a chance at realigning the stars. But, he also served as a bitter reminder of everything she stood to lose if she slipped up. "Go! You have to get away from here and let me go!"
"Aerith, look at me. I mean it. Really look at me." His tone was tender, yet powerful when he bid her. Once more, Cloud's veridian gaze tightly gripped Aerith's emerald one – their respective stares practically cabled together – as he shook one hand loose from her grasp, using both to pause the trembling of her shoulders. "Letting you go has never been an option. So, don't you tell me that I'm not allowed to love you. Don't you go running off and leaving me behind again. Don't you dare, Aerith." He'd never spoken to her like that before – as though his own determination been forged in steel.
"I can't lose you," they whispered in unison, both of them brimming with every, single, existing emotion.
Releasing a slightly exasperated sigh, the brunette took one, long step back to examine Cloud properly. The misty haze of her tears subsided for now, and she could finally see... Aerith emitted a dry, humorless laugh. "So, you know."
"Yeah."
"Then you know that I'm fated to-"
"Not anymore. That was the whole point of defeating the Whispers – to deviate from the past."
"It's not that simple."
"I don't care."
"You should care!" she snapped. "Your life-"
"It's yours, Aerith. Take it. It's been yours since the moment we met, and I am not giving you up without a fight."
Once more, the black-clad, former infantryman strode toward her. Then, he slowly began to remove his gloves – allowing the peaceful breeze to glide between his fingers – and let his naked hands frame her face. Aerith made no objections to stop his next set of actions, nor struggled to move away; she'd fallen prey to the intense, hot will of his mako-infused irises, helplessly relaxed by the aroma of morning dew and cinnamon wafting from him. Less than a second later, the Sleeping Forest and the rest of the world around them faded from view as Cloud closed the gap between their mouths in a soft kiss. Or, at least a kiss that started out soft – shy even, much like two, unpracticed teenagers – until Aerith went in for a second kiss. He had stoked a fire into the core of her being and there was no going back. Harder, their lips pressed together, both pulsating, plumped, and reddened; hotter, their tongues collided, battling for dominance and submission.
A fraction of Aerith's brain had trouble catching up to everything that was occurring – that Cloud was kissing her – when the initial goal had been to brave Sleeping Forest by herself. He shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be allowing him to weaken her.
But now, it was too late.
"I won't let anything happen to you," Cloud vowed, his voice coming out in a hushed volume against Aerith's lips.
All she could do was nod in response and take him by the hand. Whatever dangers they were about to face, they would face them together. Win or lose. Sink or swim. Live or die. At least that was the hope.
/ / /
Holy might have been the most beautiful materia. The vibrance was soft, the glow was easy to stare lingeringly at, sort of like a star, though the color was a peaceful shade somewhere between green and blue, akin to the Lifestream. The little sphere of magical energy bounced and rolled upon the floor of the temple, until it finally sank into the waters below, swallowed into the depths with a resounding glunk.
Not that anyone seemed to care or notice, as Sephiroth ruthlessly yanked his masamune from Cloud's abdomen.
In the next second, the Cetra was next to him, cradling him in her arms."Wh-Why did you do that? Why did you push me out of the way?"
With mere seconds left, Cloud didn't bother to reply the question she already knew the answer to. Instead, while the ruby-colored liquid leaked from the side of his mouth, he smiled euphorically up at the woman he loved. Aerith had never seen Cloud appear so fragile, yet so triumphant at the same time – as if he didn't bear the weight of a single regret, as if he would do it all over again.
"Cloud, please," she begged just as his body went totally limp. "No! It wasn't supposed to happen like this! You were meant to go on! Cloud!" Aerith wept and pleaded with the lifeless man in her lap, all the while cracks formed along the walls of her heart, from the inside out, and those cracks birthed others cracks. She couldn't even hear Sephiroth gloating from behind. "You were supposed to live! I wanted you to live!"
/ / /
The planet's last hope for balance stood at the edge of the lake, repeatedly shaking her head to and from, trying to convince herself that none of this was actually happening. It wasn't real. Yet, the agony spreading from the beating of her heart stated otherwise. Her whole world was caving in, suffocating her; everything she'd been fighting for was gone. She felt sick. She felt hollowed. She felt numb. She felt betrayed. What was the point of bearing so much weight on her shoulders if she and Cloud were forever doomed to lose each other?
Deeper and deeper, Aerith waded into the freezing water, her skin going numb, until she enveloped in the dark depths. She belted out the sharpest, loudest scream her vocal cords had ever produced, the broken cacophony muffled by the murky water. She screamed and screamed, until there was nothing left of her to give, until her lungs
almost felt like they were filled with kerosene while they burned from subconscious unuse. She gasped for sweet, dear breath as the rest of her senses started to return, her brain gradually catching up to there here and now. It was a dream. It was only a dream, the Flower Girl mused to herself over and over again.