04. Aerith

… You all right?

Can you hear me?

It's a strange voice. Rings clear, in the blackness that surrounds him. Unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. Cloud feels like he knows it well, but can't say why he does or whose it is.

Can you hear me?

"Yeah." Cloud mutters, trying to remember, but it's like reaching through a net of greens and fog. Whose voice is it? He thinks he sees a face pass briefly, but can't hold it down.

Back then, you could get by with just skinned knees…

The voice sounds light, even amused. Cloud finds himself frowning.

"What do you mean back then? What about now?"

Can you get up?

The voice asks, not answering him at all. Cloud tries shifting his body, and instead feels like a thousand rocks are weighing him down. He thinks he hears someone call him, beside the strange voice in the black. He finally manages to stir his fingers.

Good. Take it slow, the voice soothes.

"Hey… who are you?"

"Hello? Hello?"

Cloud's eyes flew open. He was staring at a white sky; there shouldn't be a sky here.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Cloud felt like he'd just been dreaming. There was someone… but he couldn't remember who it was. They'd been talking about something…

"Are you alright?" Something suddenly cast a shadow over him. Cloud found himself looking up at a face. It was the flower girl; Cloud sat up slowly, wondering at the coincidence. Was he still dreaming? His head danced uncertainly.

He looked around and found himself in an old, run-down church. A tall door was left ajar. Black pews, some broken, were sprawled here and there. There was a wooden statue, half-broken, against the back wall. Feeble light crept across and fell upon the face of the statue. The high windows that ran down the length of the walls on either sides were decorated with stained glass. For the most part, the lights didn't reach and the glasses remained dull red and green.

But sunlight had managed to reach a tiny part of the window. One ray of sunshine crept through, passed the colored glass and exploded into flares or red and blue and green. Cloud stared at it for a moment. Where was this place?

As if reading his mind, a voice answered his thought, making him jump a little.

"This is a church in the Sector 5 slums."

Cloud turned back to look at the flower girl, who was smiling now.

"Are you okay? You suddenly fell from above. You really gave me a scare."

"I… came crashing down?" Cloud asked, then remembered; the reactor, letting go. The flower girl squatted down in front of him.

"Yeah. The roof and the flower bed must've broken your fall. You're lucky."

"Flower bed?" Then Cloud realized what he was sitting on. A bed of flowers, yellow and white sprouting out from the broken part of the church floor. The flowers were packed densely together, completely covering the soil. He scrambled up, feeling a little flushed. Maybe it was the scent. "Is this yours? Sorry about that."

"That's alright. The flowers here are quite resilient – maybe because it's a sacred place," she said. Cloud didn't think he believed in God, but her conviction was alluring. "They say you can't grow flowers in Midgar, but for some reason… the flowers have no trouble blooming here."

Cloud didn't know how to answer her smile, so he just nodded. It really must be a sacred place, he thought distantly.

"So," she met Cloud's eyes. "Don't you remember me?"

"Yeah, of course," he swallowed. "You were selling these – flowers."

"Right. Thanks for buying my flower," she laughed. "Business is slow these days. Hey, is that Materia?" She was pointing at the sword by Cloud's side.

He felt a little dizzy. He thought it must be from the fall. She had a quick smile, a set of deep green eyes.

"Yeah," he said.

"I only ask because I have one too." She took out a white Materia from her jacket pocket, and held it up in front of Cloud. Milky white, like a pearl; he didn't recognize it. "Mine is special though, It's good for absolutely nothing."

"Good for nothing?" He frowned. "Are you sure – you know how to use it?" He hoped he didn't sound too condescending.

"Yeah, I do. It just doesn't do anything. I feel safe just having it with me, though. It was my mother's."

When she fell into a short silence, eyes remembering, Cloud got a little nervous. He felt like he should be saying something important, keeping a promise, as much as it didn't make any sense; he'd just met the girl. He was probably just being stupid (no surprise there). He cleared his throat.

"What's your name?"

She looked at Cloud, a little surprised. "Now that you mention it," she said, "we don't even know each others' names, huh? I'm Aerith Gainsborough. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

"Cloud Strife," he said, taking her hand. It felt like petals, light and quick.

"So, Cloud. What do you do?"

"I, uh," Cloud wondered what he could say, other than a terrorist. "I do a little bit of everything."

"Oh? A jack of all trades?" Aerith laughed.

"Yeah," Cloud frowned. "What's – what's so funny? Why are you laughing?" He thought maybe he was annoyed, but was too dizzy to notice.

"Sorry, I just –" She started to explain, but then her smile had suddenly frozen. Cloud looked back.

There was a man by the door. Shadows hid him, but Cloud could just make out the slouchy silhouette, the disheveled hair. He narrowed his eyes. Stifled footsteps – outside. More of them. Maybe three?

"Say, Cloud," Aerith said.

"Yeah?" Cloud kept his eyes on the shadow-man, counting the steps between them.

"Do you do bodyguards too?"

Cloud looked at her. "Yeah."

"Then get me out of here. Take me home," Aerith said. It should have been strange that there wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes – only some sort of weariness, maybe regret – but somehow it didn't fit Aerith to be scared.

"It –" He got a little lost in her eyes, which was sentimental and stupid, but then – he had fallen from the sky. "It'll cost you."

Aerith was looking at him, amused, curious, and Cloud wanted to hit himself.

"Okay," she considered. Then, just as Cloud was about to say forget it, she said, "I got it. How about one date?"

Cloud looked at her for a second, maybe two (maybe a minute, in his head); nodded, without really knowing what he was agreeing to, and turned back to the intruder. He thought he heard Aerith laugh softly behind him.

The man had finally walked into the light. He had an uncontrollably bright red hair, held down by a pair of goggles pushed up to the top of his head. His eyes were explosions of green, hardly blinking. He was also slouching like he couldn't be bothered to hold himself up properly. He looked up and down Cloud lazily.

"Hey, I don't know you, but," Cloud started, but before he could finish the thought – a flash of white, in a blink.

I know you, the voice says.

"Wait. Who are you?"

There is no answer.

Cloud blinked; the echo of the flash resonated white in his head, but didn't come back.

"What?" The redhead was cocking his head like a cat, grinning crookedly. Cloud looked at him again, and suddenly found that in fact – he did know the man. It was the well memory all over again; and Tifa's dead father, Nibelheim reactor.

"Wait, I do know you," Cloud said. Except he couldn't actually remember. It was just a mild nagging at his mind.

There was a barking laugh. The men standing outside had stepped in, forming a semi-circle behind the redhead. One of them was snickering now.

"Hey, this one's a little weird."

"Reno, want him taken out?" The other one called.

Reno was looking thoughtful, examining Cloud with an indefinable superiority. He drew out his words slowly, a snake sliding in grass.

"I, haven't, decided, yet."

Cloud let them talk, searching for an escape with his eyes. The only door was blocked by three infantrymen and a Turk. With Aerith, breaking down the wall wouldn't be too wise…

His eyes fell on the statue against the back wall. There was a large crack behind it, from which a strip of light fell on the face of the statue.

Just as Reno was opening his mouth to say something, Cloud grabbed Aerith's hand and started running. He counted three seconds of startled silence (which surprised him, because, well, a Turk), then there were shouts, footsteps, as the infantrymen started stomping after them. Cloud swung his sword, flung some broken pews back to block the way. He heard gunshots, but the angle was off – they didn't want to kill Aerith, he realized. He tugged her faster; ripped open wooden wall panels and let her run through first, jumped over, turned around, and rolled a large barrel in front of the crack to block the pursuers.

They were out in the backyard of the church. A thin strip of sunlight had crept through the slightly mismatched edges of Sector five and six plates. The dark web of the slums started not far from where they stood; they would make it if they started running now, and be lost to the complicated twists and turns of the slums. Cloud started towards it, but Aerith grabbed his arm.

"This way," she said. "We'll go where they won't think to look."

It was Aerith who grabbed his hand this time. His enhanced senses picked up the pulse through her palm, a little fast, a little out of breath.

Aerith led them to the roof of the church. They listened as the infantrymen finally broke through the barred panels and cursed out loud. "Reno! Looks like they've disappeared into the slums!" One of them called. "We're following, but don't hold your breath."

Indecipherable muttering. The three of them started towards the slums.

Cloud realized that Reno had never joined the chase in the first place. They watched him waddle out of the church, sweep a lazy glance back; once, he looked up to where they were hiding, but his gaze didn't linger.

"Don't bother, guys," he said to the air. "Long gone." He chuckled as he walked away.

When Reno and his low whistle finally disappeared, Aerith sighed in relief and leaned back against the chimney.

"What a dramatic escape."

Cloud nodded, carefully leaning back next to Aerith. There was a patch of clear blue sky in between the plates; incongruous, like someone had cut and pasted a piece of blue cloth.

"They're looking for me again," Aerith said. Cloud looked at her.

"You mean – it's not the first time they've been after you?"

"No."

"That guy – Reno – he's a Turk," Cloud said. When Aerith didn't say anything, he explained; "The Turks are an organization within Shinra. They scout for possible candidates for SOLDIER…"

"Oh, really?" Aerith sounded amused. "Are they always this violent?"

"They're also involved in a lot of – dirty stuff on the side. You know."

"I know. They look it," she said.

"But why are they after you? There must be a reason." It unsettled him that the Turks were after Aerith; they were bad news. SOLDIERs and Turks very rarely got along, too. Different line of work – their condescension for each other was mutual and not so secret.

"No, not really." Aerith didn't hesitate. "Hey, maybe they think I have what it takes to be a SOLDIER."

Cloud searched her face, but couldn't find any signs of a lie. Not that he was that good at reading people, but – he wanted to believe her. "Maybe you do. Wanna join?"

Aerith laughed. "I don't think so. But if I do, I'll let you know."

And Cloud decided that it didn't really matter one way or another; the Turks had their reason, one that Cloud didn't really care about.

"Hey, Cloud?" Aerith said, after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Were you – ever in SOLDIER?"

"I used to be. How'd you guess?"

"Your eyes."

Cloud turned to look at her. There was a greenish glow in his eyes, the sign of the Mako running through his veins. He hadn't expected Aerith to notice, though, or know about the Mako-eyes.

"How do you know about that?" He asked.

Aerith just smiled. "I remembered."

It was hardly an answer, but there was something sad about her smile that Cloud let it go. Memories were best left alone; he'd know, of course.

Sector Five wasn't any different from the other slum districts. Cloud followed Aerith through a street with a couple of shops selling slightly broken things, dog yelping and bouncing about, boys tossing a ball between themselves.

"Mornin', flower lady. That your boyfriend?" Someone called. Aerith looked back, grinned at a balding man sitting behind a vendor.

"No, just my bodyguard."

The man laughed. Cloud was listening to his barking laugh when he realized that there was something different about Sector five, after all. It was – less dead; real people looking at them with living eyes, a joke to crack. It was more lively.

Or maybe it was just Aerith.

"Just a little more, and then it's my house," Aerith was saying, when another voice interrupted.

"Hey, Aerith!" A man with a messy brown hair was waving at them. Aerith walked over to him. "No flowers today, eh? Hey there, Mister," he nodded at Cloud.

"Ben, this is Cloud. He's my bodyguard," Aerith said. Cloud coughed a little, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

"Is that right?" Ben laughed. Then he turned more serious; "well… listen, Aerith. There's this guy in there… think he need help." He jerked his head toward an old sewer pipe. It was big enough for a person to fit through.

"Okay, Ben. I'll look into him. See what I can do."

"Thanks, Aerith. It's just that I have to meet someone, so…"

This wouldn't have happened in Sector seven or eight, Cloud thought. Aerith walked over to the pipe, and Cloud followed.

The smell of sewer had diluted from long disuse. Cloud stepped in after Aerith, willing himself not to look back (the pipe wasn't going to close itself, for God's sake); he hoped Aerith couldn't hear that his heartbeats had gotten a fraction faster.

And then he smelled Mako. Only a faint trace; but the whole world flashed white for a millisecond, like it had done in the church – he thought he saw something – a tight space, closed, no escape, nothing but green all around.

"Here we are."

Somehow, Aerith's voice broke through. Cloud realized that he'd been breathing a little too fast, ragged in the edges. Aerith didn't seem to have noticed. She was looking down at a figure laying on a torn blanket. Cloud took a measured breath, looked down,

No, the voice whispers.

And realized that the faint stench of Mako was coming from the man. He was groaning, almost too low to hear.

"He's really sick… Cloud, can you help him?"

Cloud had to clear his throat, control his breathing. He was trying not to smell too much. "Well, I'm no doctor." His voice came out stiff anyway.

"No, I guess not." Aerith bent down next to him. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Isn't – isn't there a doctor around here?" Cloud asked, wishing they could get out of here.

Aerith laughed. "There's no doctor in the slums."

The man stirred. Sweat had broken out on the nape of his neck. A sound, deep and sickening to the bone, gurgled out; he stirred, made to get up, then fell back down. Aerith stepped back hesitantly. His arm stretched out, trembling, trying to reach something that they couldn't see.

Then it dropped and then he was dead, with his eyes wide open and dead green.

Cloud stared at the tattoo right in the center of the man's forehead; a faded black number two. Something was beating inside his chest, something ugly, bloody.

"What – what's that?" Aerith sounded a little scared.

"I don't know," he managed to say. He needed to get out of here. Without waiting for Aerith, he turned back and walked out of the pipe.

"I'm home, Mom."

Aerith's house was definitely different from the others in the slums. There were dotted light brown curtains over the windows, and there were flowers. Lots of flowers, blooming near the windows and the door; in pots, vases. All yellow and white. Aerith must have brought the ones from the church.

"Aerith? You're early," a voice answered from inside. Aerith's mother followed; she had that same shade of soft brown hair. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Cloud standing in the doorway.

"Mom, this is Cloud. My bodyguard."

She must really like saying that, Cloud thought.

"A bodyguard?" Aerith's mother frowned. "You mean you were followed again? Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine. I had Cloud with me."

Aerith's mother then turned to him; her eyes were dark brown, instead of Aerith's forest green. But the smiles looked pretty similar.

"Thank you, Cloud."

"Uh, no problem."

"I'll go get some tea – would you stay for a while, Cloud?"

"Actually –" Cloud wanted to refuse, but she was walking back into the kitchen.

"That was really a rhetorical question," Aerith explained, grinning widely. "Make yourself at home."

"Listen, Aerith, I have to go to Sector seven. The sooner the better."

He was thinking of Tifa and Barret and AVALANCHE. As sweet as it was, Cloud couldn't help but feel like this whole deal with Aerith had been a dream; he'd left another life behind. The one with flashy bombs, a (shoddy) terrorist group, Nibel Dews and a secret meeting room. They probably thought he was dead.

"Oh? What's in Sector seven?" Aerith asked, curious. "I thought you lived upper plate, or something."

"No, I – Sector seven has Seventh Heaven. It's a bar, and… a friend of mine runs it."

"Well," Aerith considered this. "Okay. I'll show you the way."

Cloud stared. "You gotta be kidding."

Aerith was smiling that smile again.

"You – why do you want to put yourself in danger again?" He asked, hoping she was joking, but it didn't look like it. Again, that lack of fear; it should have unsettled him, not –

"I'm used to it."

"I don't know…"

"Mom!" Aerith called, not listening to Cloud. "I'm taking Cloud to Sector seven! I'll be back in a flash."

"Hey, wait a second," Cloud started to protest, but she gave him the most dazzling grin he'd ever seen, a glint of mischief in those eyes. Cloud couldn't help but feel that all this was a little unfair on him, and realized that he'd lost his words in the middle of that smile.

"But Aerith…" Aerith's mother ran out, saw her daughter's expression. "Oh, I give up."

Cloud sympathized with Mrs. Gainsborough.

"Fine – but don't blame me." Cloud muttered under his breath. Aerith pretended not to have heard him.