Chapter 50. January 18, εуλ0008

Underneath the wondrous sky inside Bugenhagen's machine, Tifa found herself staring, reminiscing. Had it been such a short time ago that she'd been here with Aerith, the two of them together rapt with fascination? Pangs of hurt and regret struck once again – the loss still so new, so raw – another reminder of how fragile life really was. The more so after having been up in the heavens herself, seeing how small their world really was compared to the vastness in which it swam. Looking at the twinkling simulation of stars above her, she thought with awe to the real things, the miracles she'd had the privileged chance to see.

Aerith, are you still somewhere out there? At times, she could swear she almost heard Aerith's voice from the distant beyond – but she could never make out any words. Aerith had sworn anyone could talk to the Planet, but even here in a place as close to it as Cosmo Canyon was, the ability still eluded her.

She watched as Cloud handed over the four Huge Materia to Bugenhagen, quietly explaining their need. Their journey into space had changed him, too. In a sense, she was only now getting to know him all over again – seeing the true self that had so recently been hidden from her. But now, seeing so many reminders of the boy he once had been – she felt like she knew him better now than she ever had before, his true soul now unwrapped. The innocent wonder with which he'd regarded the stars, the same as with which he now looked upon the Materia spinning in the air before them – that was the true man, the essence lying underneath still untouched.

It reminded her of… home.

She'd been in the heavens. She'd been in the Lifestream. But the deepest part of her still craved that so truly – a dream she hoped someday, somehow would still have a chance to become real. But… first things first. They had a madman to defeat.

Bugenhagen scanned them each in turn: Tifa wondered what the old man could see. If he could peer into their souls in that uncanny way that Aerith so often seemed to have. "Have you lost your way?" he asked, gently questioning; his kind eyes looked deeply into hers. "The answer… is to take a good long look at ourselves. To go deep within the hidden reaches of our own hearts, even beyond. Ask ourselves if we have really found what we are looking for." Aerith, thought Tifa once again; did you find what you were looking for in the end? "I wonder. Does each of you know what you are looking for? It's been a while since I saw you last – have you found it along your journey?"

I hope so, was Cloud first thought, sneaking a glance at Tifa. It had become an automatic habit at this point. How could it be otherwise? The two of them, so inextricably linked by something that transcended time and space. Something that few'd had the chance to experience; and none had shared in the personal journey that had been just the two of them.

But he'd found more there, too – things he'd thought lost and gone. He was so utterly glad to be himself again, flaws and all – he might be weak, a coward, but at least he was himself. He might not remember everything, but he had a future now. And he could try. He could do better. He'd been given back that chance.

He'd lost those years – not memories themselves there was nothing TO remember imprisoned for four years in a glass casing – terrified, he pushed down that last. More though, all the memories that might have been made. Time lost, with the bittersweet consolation that it had made him who he was today – if not exactly in the way he would have chosen.

Missed chances, though, those were the ones that truly tormented him, leaching guilt into his bones with wishes he had done better. Aerith. He remembered far too well – in contrast to those gaping holes, she shined like a beacon of regret and pain in his mind. Guilt that impaled him, just as surely as Sephiroth's sword had done to her.

Aerith had been simply always there, the way she was still, a corner of his mind that was uniquely hers. The Huge Materia sparkled with their silent light before him; if she was here with them now, would she know what it was they had to say? They seemed to echo Aerith's own presence; or was it she who had echoed theirs? In fact, was there any boundary at all? And as he stared deep into the crystal's depths, it was as if some element of their understanding became his.

"Aerith," Cloud said the word aloud, as if voicing her name could give her presence in the room. "You're still with us, aren't you?" He stared deeply into the red materia, long moments stretching out as he looked within for an answer that remained tantalizingly closed inside. "What is it you were trying to do, Aerith?" he asked it softly. "You told me you where the only one who could stop Sephiroth. What could you do that none of us can?"

The question that followed on that, the one that he himself could not bear to express; he was saved from that prospect by Nanaki. "I wonder indeed," the flamed creature said. "If we are all as close to the Planet as she said… is it yet possible for us to carry on her legacy?"

Barret hung his head. "I'd like nothing more than to do that for her," he said, his voice, soft gravel.

Tifa's eyes met Cloud's briefly, but before they dropped he could see her depth of sadness within, mirroring his own; the same, yet different, an unbridgeable boundary of difference in their relationship with Aerith. They both had things they had lost. "But she's gone," Tifa said sadly. A depth of pain Cloud was wishing that he could comfort, but bearing his own guilt, what could he offer her? When the plate fell… their shared bond, a lost home. A moment of understanding in Aerith's garden when the world was just the two of them. For a moment, Cloud could see the glisten of tears marring her beautiful eyes. "How are we ever supposed to know what she was planning?"

"She knew," offered Vincent. "She had her reasons for going to fight Sephiroth on her own. It was what she had to do."

"But at such a cost…" Tifa trailed off. "I just can't believe she really expected to…" She couldn't finish the sentence. "She was so bright, so optimistic…"

Cloud wondered. He'd been so sure she'd been willing to give her life for the Planet. Was he just trying to find a way to let himself off the hook? Deny his involuntary complicity in her death? "Then…" he mused aloud. "Maybe there IS one way to find out…" He cringed inside, greatly reluctant to revisit a scene of such pain; but it had to be done; he reached for his courage. "The Forgotten City. Could the answer be there?" Would the wisdom of the Ancients be there to guide them?

He saw wrinkled brows, concerned looks, and finally slow nods as the party reached agreement. "So if it's settled…"

"May I then accompany you?" asked Bugenhagen.

"Grandfather?" Nanaki jerked up his head, worried. "Are you sure you should be traveling at your age? Is that wise?"

"Hoo-hoo-hoo," Bugenhagen chuckled. "Worry not, young one. These old bones still have a little life left in them, after all. And the City of the Ancients is definitely something I would like to see. I have been cooped up in my laboratory for far too long."

"I understand, Nanaki said slowly, bowing his head respectfully. "The Planet… it's calling you too, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Bugenhagen replied. "It is for all of us to experience its joys and wonder to the fullest. I am no different."

Cloud thought… perhaps he, also, was starting to understand. It's calling me, too. He wanted all those things Bugenhagen hinted at – joy, sorrow, and everything in between. And this was part of that too – he could not erase the experiences of his past, only make peace with the fact of having lived them.

He could do this. He could reconcile with the past. And along the way… perhaps he could find something more.

The skies flew past in a blur, the Highwind remaining true to its name as they barreled north once again. Bugenhagen had retreated to the deck above, wanting to experience the sensation of flight in full. Yuffie… was doing much the same, in her own special way, hiding out somewhere with a barf bag in her hand.

The rest of them remained in the cockpit, all eyes forward, metaphorically and literally facing their destination ahead.

At the forefront, nearly pressed to the glass sphere above, Cloud and Tifa stood together. Was it just his imagination, or were the others automatically giving them space whenever they were together? Their own private bubble; it made him embarrassed, self-conscious at the same time as he reveled in the feeling of comfort he always got from having her near. He pushed those thoughts aside for later, returning his mind firmly to the matter at hand. Worrying and wondering what might lie ahead.

"Aerith…" he mused aloud, voicing everyone's unspoken thoughts; he had no doubt they were all remembering her in their own way. "I wonder… what she was thinking in those final moments?" That instant when she'd caught his eyes, and he could have sworn he was seeing through hers – the barest, overwhelming glimpse of the Lifestream in full "Was she willing to give her life for the Planet?" he half-rambled, revisiting his earlier uncomfortable thoughts. "I mean, she must have, right? Did she know it would come to that?" Even as he spoke the words, he realized how hollow that sounded, how much like a petty justification for something that could not be excused away.

"I don't think so," Tifa said softly. She could see the way Cloud's guilt cut so deep, an impenetrable vein… but she couldn't allow him to deny the truth. He wouldn't want her too. "She was the one always talking about the future, after all." Tifa wondered what hopes and dreams Aerith had held for the future, what lives she had left unlived. And if, perhaps, there was a way to honor her friend's memory; t live out her legacy instead.

Conversation in the background was hushed, reverent, even as Tifa's ears picked up snippets of nostalgia and regrets for the girl they had known such a tragically short time. Wishes she could be back with the again. It was the way they all found to cope; but nevertheless, she was unable to hold back the flood off emotions as they reached the Ancient City all too quickly.

The Highwind's landing, the entry to the city incised – so recent in time, but leagues away in experience. Cloud followed the path as if through a dream, only half seeing as they traversed the top level. The path to the lower regions was blocked once again, denying them access to both the area and its associated memories. As if the city itself, once again, was directing them in the direction it wanted them to go.

The globes in the houses spoke more clearly to him now, with hushed and vague whispers to go here, move forward, marked also with an urgency he hadn't sensed before. They found themselves in the desiccated amphitheater they'd previously glossed over. The altar on this level, its platform not flat but garnished instead with a monstrous crystal within; before it had only bee twinkling, unresponsive, but now a soft hum of light greeted their presence, as if reacting to Cloud's own blood.

Distantly he ingested Bugenhagen's words. The planet in a crisis… they must reach for Holy… Everything that is a danger to the Planet will be gone. Perhaps even us. The sinister allusion struck at his core, as he wonders if that could really be true.

"No matter," he said, a bit roughly. "Meteor will destroy the Planet for sure if we don't do something." But Holy? How, when Aerith had carried its secret away with her? "Aerith reached for the Planet – did she make it?" He asked half the air, half the altar itself, not really respecting any coherent response.

The altar vibrated suddenly to life as if answer, a luminescent goal emitting from within, and it was as if the mako in his own blood vibrated in tandem. Before their eyes, water sheeted from the ceiling in a glittering cascade, a sparkling wall claiming their attention; entranced, the droplets resolved themselves before their eyes into an all-too-familiar vision…

…the final moments of Aerith's life.

The sharp jerk back of her head, and Cloud winced at the memory of Sephiroth's blade slicing through her from the sky above – a instant he knew was indelibly etched onto his soul. He relived once again that longest moment as she tumbled forward, eyes falling closed, ribbon unraveling and falling below –

And he saw, the orb glowing with the pale green of mako, of Aerith's eyes, of the Lifestream itself, sparkling an answer to their questions as it clinked into the depths below.

"She did," breathed Tifa. "Aerith really did…"

"Holy," Cloud exhaled.

"But how can we use it if it's all the way down there?" asked Yuffie. "I mean, that's the big question, isn't it?

That it was, Cloud thought to himself.

Speak to the Planet. Get the White Materia to bond the Planet to humans. Cloud looked around, startled, at the voice that seemed to come from the altar itself. It very well might have, but the words were clear, direct, far more than the globes of the city. Forge the connection.

But it's no use, Cloud answered in the far reaches of his mind. They'd all seen it just now, rolling tumbling from the altar into the endless depths below. Where not even light could reach.

Where he'd sadly let Aerith fall away to.

Reach with your thoughts. With your heart.

Aerith. If she was here, he knew what she'd say.

You can do it, Cloud.

And only one thing he could have told her back.

I'll try.

Another promise made… another sworn to keep.

Aerith let out a breath, looking wan, exhausted. Even as he knew that was all an illusion – nothing here could harm a body that no longer existed, habits died hard, and he couldn't help but worry about her.

"Do you feel okay?" Zack fussed. Aerith smiled. He'd been treating her as gently as a baby – perhaps making up for the times he hadn't been able to do exactly that. He wanted so badly to care for her just in the way he had promised; and she was happy to let him have the chance.

"As well as can be," she told him. "Mostly worried. I think I might have gotten through. Just enough. But I really don't have any way to be sure, and it was just for a second, there."

Aerith was getting stronger, Day by day - whatever that meant in this world, but Zack could see it. Here, as she adjusting to the Lifestream and it, in turn, melded itself to her, she was ever more in tune with its flows and currents, bringing them together in a harmony even Zack could hear.

He, too, could touch the world just a little more each time, nowhere near what Aerith could do – but as she explained, the Mako he'd been given would make it a touch easier. In any case, it was a matter of practice and dedication, for him as well as for her.

"But… there's a problem," Aerith continued. "Even if he can reach – Sephiroth is blocking Holy. That's why it hasn't acted yet. So Cloud still needs to go after Sephiroth… but he needs to do it the right way. He can't let anger and hate drive him, or he'll be no better than Sephiroth himself."

"He won't do that," Zack assured her. "That's not the Cloud I know. He cares far too much to let that happen to him." Zack thought of Cloud before, the bright young man he had once been, before Shinra had gotten their ugly claws into the two of them. The loss of that boy's faithful innocence… he held that against Shinra above everything else.

It was early to tell for sure, but in his heart, Zack was certain Tifa had done it… that she had found that Cloud once again. If anyone could do it, it was her – the one who had held the heart of that same boy for so long.

"I hope so," Aerith fretted

"Don't forget," Zack offered, "no matter what happens… something in Cloud keeps fighting back."

"You know, you're right." Aerith brightened. "I don't know why I wasn't believing in Cloud." She stood, suddenly determined. "He can do it. And when the time comes… we'll be there for him."

Reeve didn't like it.

He hadn't liked it then, and he didn't like it now. He'd only barely gone with the plan to fire Shinra No. 26 at Meteor because he'd thought there was a chance it would work; but he'd known before the impact as visible above Midgar, leaving the red ball unchanged, that that plan had failed.

Would it have succeeded with the Huge Materia loaded on? Perhaps, but after traveling with Cloud and his friends, he found himself secretly grateful those repositories of knowledge had not been destroyed. He'd know Aerith, after all – even if only by proxy – and who she was and what she stood for; and losing the Materia that way seemed so traitorous to her memory.

It wasn't a real solution. Aerith had given them the answer: Holy.

Shinra didn't know about it, didn't want to believe in it – but Reeve had seen too many things now that did not fit into Shinra's insular view of the Planet. AS view, he might add, that was certainly now doing them no services.

Holy was the only thing that could stop Sephiroth – yet Sephiroth was blocking the means to his own destruction. Shinra was now wholly focused on Sephiroth, now stripped of the notion that he could somehow lead them to the Promised Land. Something Rufus had learned brutally in the Northern Crater. Reeve saw the need to destroy Sephiroth's barrier, if Cloud and his party were to get past – but Shinra had turned to its old standby, mako, for the purpose, bringing their gigantic Sister Ray cannon to tap into the city's resources – even as Reeve warned of dire consequences to the city of Midgar itself.

But when had they bothered to listen to him? If they hadn't balked about dropping the plate, he could hardly expect this to weigh on their consciences, either.

Then again, maybe that huge cannon would be good for something, as reports of another of those huge WEAPONs – this one approaching Midgar – had arrived. The cannon was pointed in its direction, ready and waiting.

He had little faith left in Shinra. But he knew now, there were a few he could depend on – who might still pull them – and some remains of his beloved city – out of this mess.

He radioed to Cait. Cloud, it's time to return to Midgar.