Chapter 6. 1992 - εуλ0000
The loneliness was eased.
Elmyra found herself quickly growing close to Aerith, this strange child who had tumbled into her life. So full of love and life, she endeared herself to everyone around her; she soon integrated into the community, the Sector 5 denizens accepting unquestioning the presence of yet another orphan in their midst.
From the beginning, Aerith was something different, something strange and special. She talked of so many things, of birds and trees and flowers, things she had never seen. One day, not long after bringing Aerith into her home, she found the girl handling a strange object. "What is that, Aerith?" she asked, curious.
Aerith started, snatching it to her chest. "It's… my materia." She sniffled. "My… mom gave it to me." Unshed tears in her daughter's usually-bright eyes, reminding Elmyra that the woman at the train station had never left the girl's heart.
She would do her best to do honor to that woman's memory.
"A Materia? What does it do?" she asked Aerith.
The girl balled it up in her joined hands. "Doesn't do anything," she mumbled. "My real mom -" here she looked embarrassed – "told me to keep it with me always. It makes me feel safe."
Elmyra's heart panged, wanting to give Aerith all the comfort she could. Aerith had seen too much in her young life already, had so little left from that time to hold onto. She said that she and her mother had escaped from a research lab, but when Elmyra gently pried her for details, Aerith insisted her memories were all fuzzy; and Elmyra pushed no more.
She reached out her own hands, covering Aerith's smaller in her own. Warmth seeped up from within, not just from the girl's skin, but seeming to come out of the white sphere itself.
"Well," Elmyra told her. "How can we best keep this safe?" The sphere seemed to hum an appreciative response. "I have an idea…"
She reached for the tie in Aerith's hair, letting soft brown curls tumble around her face and shoulders. A truly beautiful child, both outside and in. She took thick plaits of Aerith's hair, beginning the braid; Aerith smiled as Elmyra finished the complicated weave at the base, nesting the sphere and softly weaving the remaining locks around it to create a tight, secure home.
Aerith reached one hand up to the knot, a delighted look lighting her lively green eyes. Spontaneously, she threw her arms around Elmyra's neck, kissing her on the cheek.
Aerith's warm natural affection filled a void she hadn't realized the depth of. In ten years of marriage Elmyra had never been able to conceive a child, and she had gradually resigned herself to living a barren existence, panicked all the more when another mission took her husband away. These two lost souls bonded, filling each other with a missing light.
Elmyra had been fortunate enough that her husband's income allowed her a comfortable lifestyle. Her labor was minimal, though after meeting him as an army nurse, she continued to act as the neighborhood midwife, and now that she had a child of her own, each delivery filled her with all the more joy. Though she didn't have enough gil to make it up to the plate, she had quite probably one of the nicest houses in all the slums, definitely in Sector Five.
Her husband's salary kept arriving to pay for home and expenses, but still, he himself never returned. It was certain by now something, probably top secret, had intervened to keep him away – but still, shouldn't there have been SOME way to send word?
Looking back, Elmyra realized she must have known deep within her heart; some ethereal sense speaking to her across the space, a voice she did not want to hear. But it was Aerith who first confirmed what she so dearly wanted to deny, approaching her in the kitchen one day.
"Don't cry, Mom," Aerith said with uncharacteristic seriousness.
Elmyra slowly turned from the dinner she had been preparing, gently setting down the spoon beside. "Why would I cry, Aerith?"
"Someone close to you has joined the Lifestream," Aerith said gravely. "His heart was trying to make its way back to you to say goodbye. But he wanted you to know he was thinking of you until the end."
Aerith's often-mysterious pronouncements were something Elmyra had learned to adjust to; but still, when the letter finally came, that didn't stop her from sobbing into the table, the months of unknown flowing out into a tangle of grief and relief. Aerith softly stroked her back and shoulders in comfort. "Please don't be lonely, Mom," the little girl implored her. "He's just returned to the planet, that's all."
Taking her daughter firmly into her arms, Elmyra counted the blessings that remained.
With the notice of Shinra as well came a pension that would allow Elmyra to not work, and to care for Aerith full time. She still tended to the women of the neighborhood out of kindness and joy; but it was in devoting herself to Aerith that her life truly gained meaning.
Aerith was special, in a way Elmyra didn't quite understand – and so, she wondered. About her origins, about who and what she was.
The answer finally came in the form of a black suit and a Shinra badge.
Aerith huddled behind her mother. Elmyra facing the Turk stone-faced. "What is it you want here?"
Tseng ignored her, crouching down to address her quivering daughter. "Hello, Aerith. It's been a long time we've been looking for you."
Strangely enough, his voice was soft, free of malice. Almost tender. Aerith relaxed slightly against her mother's skirts.
"Aerith," Elmyra turned, putting one arm around her daughter to pull her protectively close. "Do you know this man?"
Aerith nodded, twice.
"Miss Gainsborough." Tseng turned his attention to Elmyra. "She needs to be returned to Shinra for her own protection."
Elmyra glared. "She's a child, not a package."
He was strictly business now. "Surely you are aware that Aerith is an Ancient?"
An Ancient. The word hung in the air, heavy on the breeze. Elmyra met him eye for eye, impatient.
Aerith whimpered.
Tseng knelt back down to look Aerith in the eye. Age ten, he thought, and you can already see the Lifestream gurgling up inside. Through those captivating eyes. He'd silently watched Ifalna's treatment, outwardly beholden to his job, but beneath it all, this child touched a soft spot in his heart, one that wanted to make sure she was protected and safe.
No one had ever solved the mystery of Ifalna's escape.
"Aerith," he addressed her, and she pulled slightly away from Elmyra, only cautiously trusting. "We need your help. Don't you want to help people, make them happy? As an Ancient, you are the only one who can do it, so we want you to come back to Shinra. Don't you want to bring happiness to the people of the slums and everywhere?"
Aerith remained, silent, an impassively strong child.
Elmyra stroked her daughter's hair instinctively, brushing the orb hidden within. She'd never pried the child too closely about her strange powers, waiting for her to volunteer the information, but now… she contemplated. She might no longer have the luxury.
"Aerith, is what this man says true?" she asked gently.
Aerith shook her head, shaking her braid wildly. "No! I'm not! I'm not… what he said."
"But surely, Aerith," Tseng continued, rising back to his feet, "you know better. Don't you hear voices when you are alone? The voice of the Planet – it speaks to you, doesn't it?"
Despite Aerith's continued protests, Elmyra realized Tseng already knew the truth. Aerith did hear things, telling her secrets she could not have learned any other way. But there was no way Shinra was getting its hands on her daughter.
"I think you've said enough," Elmyra stated firmly. "She's not going to go with you. Please leave my house."
She expected protest, but instead, Tseng offered affirmation. "We'd prefer her to come willingly. We can be patient." He nodded his goodbye. "Until then, Mrs. Gainsborough., rest assured the Turks will keep her… safe."
Elmyra wondered how many ominous meanings could be hidden behind that word. She slammed the door shut to punctuate her point, not even realizing her heart was pounding until he'd gone.
For some months after that, she worried, poised everyday for a repeat visit, but to her surprise, Tseng remained calmly indifferent. He kept to his request for Aerith's willing assistance, and the implied promise that there would be no force used against her. It wasn't a situation she would have chosen, but then again, she supposed one couldn't get much safer than having the Turks watch over you.
For his part, Tseng dreaded the day he would be ordered to take her in; he'd exhaust all possible options before he let that happen. Torn between loyalties, he couldn't help but feel affection for this girl growing up under his nose. But if that day should come to pass… it might as well be by him. He was reluctant to allow anyone else to get their hands on her.
He hardly hid that he watched her, and she, of course, knew. When it was his detail, she'd come up to him, talking and laughing gaily. Over the years, Aerith slowly ranged further from her new home; she grew to know many people in the slums, but grew close to few. The two of them formed a tight, self-contained unit, embedded in the wider sector community that was now firmly her home. The plate that some found oppressive to her seemed… sheltering. She didn't want to see the sky; it brought her a jolt of fear, even just the lighting that came in from the sides to reach under the plate. It was only inch by inch that she gathered her courage to expand her horizons, go closer to the edge.
And that's why it took her so long to find it.
The church was so near the edge, that if the wall hadn't been there, it might actually have been outside the rim of the plate. The building classic, stoic, such a contrast to the scrap heaps of domiciles around them. It was with trepidation that she creaked open the wooden doors, but despite their apparent weight, they gave little resistance as she entered.
Immediately, a strange sensation of peace washed over her, she not knowing if this was inherent to the place itself, or some sort of strange resonance that she was experiencing. She walked carefully past worn pews, sandals clicking on the ancient boards that insulated the building from hard-packed ground underneath.
For a place so undisturbed, it was surprisingly pristine of dust, bare motes twinkling in ambient light sheltering the building, the light flowing through broken fragments of roof floating above the rafters. Rays concentrated above, delighting her, but where they shone… had there once been an altar, it had been removed, boards underneath broken to reveal bare earth.
It called to her, and as she touched the ground, a bare graze of sensation jolted within her. It was as if the soil was living, a feeling so different from the dead unsoiled earth that comprised the area under the plate. It drew her in a way she couldn't explain….
When she went back, she brought her flower seeds with her.
"You're here more and more," Tseng said.
Aerith didn't even bother to look up. "They prefer to be tended by me," she calmly replied. "I can't trust the job to anyone else." She could feel Tseng's amused smile behind her.
"And is it easier for you to hear the Planet here?" he asked.
That did startle her then – how did he know? Here, the connection was ever more potent, facilitating her contact, the flowers telling her the things she was meant to know. She jerked up, alarmed.
"Don't be afraid, Aerith," Tseng told her. "You can trust me."
Aerith only sighed. She knew why Tseng was there, but in a world where there were few she could trust, he was one of the few memories from… before. So much else from that time was blocked, but she remembered him as one who would talk to her, make her feel welcome in her frightening world. An accidental constant in her life. She'd first acclimated to his sudden appearances, finally returning to the level of comfort she'd had years before, whether Tseng had first joined the Turks.
She neared her teen years, and it made Tseng wary. The "awakening" Hojo had identified years before, when her vision opened to encompass the outside world. Adulthood would bring it to fruition, and intensify Shinra's desire for her.
Her garden patch thrived, and one day, Aerith finally brought her mother to see it. Elmyra gazed reverently, softly brushing petals she couldn't believe were there.
"This is amazing," she breathed. "So THAT'S what you keep coming here for. Even on the plate you don't see anything like this."
"They respond to me." Aerith was already gathering some small seedlings, along with spoonfuls of earth to comfort them on the ride home. "I'm going to take some home, Mom. I think they might be willing to grow there, too."
At first Elmyra found it strange that Aerith spoke as if the flowers were sentient, but over time, she wondered why that was so bizarre. Her daughter had not yet reached age thirteen when she blossomed into a woman, and the flowers responded in kind, nascent patches of seedlings exploding into bloom propagating to carpet the hillocks in front of their home with a profusion of color. Soon enough, their street was called Petal Way locally, its reputation well-deserved; the borders of the greenery ever moving outward, encroaching into the town itself, to the happy responses of its inhabitants.
Like all mothers, Elmyra had to slowly release her hold on her daughter, inch by reluctant inch, even as she realized some day she would have to let go completely. But not yet. She allowed Aerith to go to the church even late into the night; over time, Aerith began to half-live there, the flowers her source of joy and delight.
Elmyra was not the only one watching Aerith spread her wings.
Tseng still hoped dearly he could ensure Aerith's happiness – couldn't bear to see it washed off her face. He mulled at length how might things turn out for the best, if there was anything in his power to help. She was still so young, he thought, but she was showing signs of becoming a great beauty. An idea began to take form…
"You want to do WHAT?" Elmyra asked, shocked.
"I could get Shinra to arrange a marriage." He didn't have the heart to tell her Shinra otherwise planned to marry her off to Sephiroth. To create even MORE perfect children. Better it be him. "Not now, obviously, but we could start the agreement. And when Aerith's of age….It would give her some protection." I could protect her. He wondered what that might be like. Marriage and family were a luxury in the Turks. "There could be a much worse basis for marriage."
Elmyra was sullen. Tseng knew she was NOT in favor of the idea, not at all, but she was perhaps considering the benefits.
"Aerith, what do YOU think?" she asked her daughter, who had been hanging back, considering. Despite Aerith's friendliness, she still had an undercurrent of wariness towards Tseng, ever since he had first come to her house. Tseng could hardly blame her.
Aerith chewed her thumb, all sulky teenager. "But…. I don't love you," she replied.
But maybe you might grow to, Tseng thought. She was too young for him to really look at her in… that way… but he felt… protective of heart least. Surely she must know that. He could use his power to keep her out of the worst of Shinra's clutches – he could do a t least that much. And it would save him from having to make the decision he didn't want to.
President Shinra would not be in power forever. And the day would come when Rufus, far smarter, took over. That was where Tseng had thrown in his loyalty. He was gambling he could keep Aerith safe until President Shinra died, and Rufus would be more amenable to cooperation.
He turned to Aerith. "Aerith… I would be good to you. I promise you I won't touch you until you want me to."
Aerith couldn't bring herself to the idea. She was thinking of flowers and love. Tseng was thinking of practicalities.
In many ways, he was racing against time.
He was running out of time…