Anywhere You Are

by pinkpower

An AU in which Cloud and Aerith meet as children.

3. The Locket

Disclaimer: Many of the following characters and settings do no belong to me.

As quietly as her footsteps could drag her, Ifalna Faremis was cautious not to disturb her peacefully slumbering daughter, as she exhaustedly made her way into their shared bedroom. Currently, it was four in the morning and she had just three hours to catch up on some much-needed rest before the doctors, scientists, and their apprentices would have her up again to undergo numerous, time-consuming, and dehumanizing experiments.

It was her personal obligation to her virtually extinct race to allow strangers to invade, probe, and investigate her body, they said; it was her honor as the last, living, full-blooded Ancient to donate her time, energy, and blood cells to the men and women in lab coats, for the sake of medicine and innovation, they said; all of her grueling work was fantastic, kind contribution to the world and someday it would serve as her legacy, they said. They fed Ifalna whatever nonsense they thought they could get away with, if only to convince themselves of their good intentions. Shinra wanted Ifalna to believe that she was highly regarded, that she was a marvel and miracle. But Ifalna knew exactly what she was to them – a lab rat, a pin cushion – and she also knew what they were – wardens and villains.

Positively exhausted from the day's routine, the woman took rest on the mattress, next to her five year-old little girl. She didn't even bother to remove the hospital gown and change into clothes that didn't make her feel like cheap, greasy street food. All Ifalna wanted to do was lie down and watch Aerith dream. The Cetra's mind took sweet, tranquil refuge in the sight of Aerith's soft smile – the nightlight plugged into the room's corner kept her face dimly lit. She kept Ifalna going admist the debilitating chaos; she gave Ifalna small interludes of peace between long, hard hours of being treated like a frog about to be dissected. Aerith was her personal marvel and her personal miracle.

Fast asleep amongst the heavy blankets and plush pillows, little Aerith emitted tiny breaths, the sounds audible only to the person resting by her side. Quiet moments like this left the mother of one truly awestruck at the fact she could help create someone so beautiful. With hair as brown as pecans and thick as beds of snow, with parted lips as pink as strawberry lemonade, and with peach-colored freckles peppered along the bridge of her nose, there was no denying that Aerith was Ifalna's near-perfect copy, so precious and so pretty.

But, as Ifalna swept back the silky strands of dark hair, she couldn't help but muse upon the round tops of Aerith's ears, and how the lobes were neatly attached, and the way her face was slightly rounder in general. "You smile in your sleep like him, too," Ifalna murmured, her aura soaked in warmth and love as she sensed Gast's presence, or rather she preferred to believe she could sense him gawking proudly at their child.

"M...Momma?" whispered Aerith when she felt the cold, gold casing of her mother's locket dangling from her charm bracelet, brushing against the apple of her cheek. "Momma, I missed you."

"I missed you, too, sweetling." Being away from Aerith, the renewal source of her spirit and morale, was the cruelest, worst part of being a hostage to Shinra Corporation. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

Still groggy from whatever her own day had put her through, the younger of the two brunettes shifted her head from side-to-side while her smile broadened, lighting up her face. "You don't gotta be sorry for that. I didn't think I'd see you again until way, way later, and that made me cry."

"Well, I'm here now," Ifalna reassured her beloved daughter, lightly combing the whites of her fingernails through Aerith's soft, maple-brown locks.

Curiously, the five year-old latched one hand around her mother's wrist to get a closer look at the charm bracelet. Tiny, skinny fingers skimmed over each charm, all the way from the plastic carnation to the red feather. "Which one did Gast give you?"

"The locket," Ifalna answered. She nuzzled her face into Aerith's teeny palm and peppered a myriad of kisses upon the knuckle of her thumb. "Your daddy gave it to me as a birthday gift. Do you want to see what's inside of it?"

"There's something inside of it?" exclaimed an astonished Aerith, as her eyes went wide.

"Yep, there sure is. All lockets have this really neat ability to let their holders carry around something that they value. See?" Gingerly, the Cetra brushed her daughter's hand out of the way and pressed one finger down the latch to open the heart-shaped trinket.

Inside was an image, the look of it like the negatives of photograph – one that was quite peculiar to the child – of a white, grainy peanut surrounded by total darkness. "A picture of a piece of trail mix?"

"What? No, you silly, little thing!" chortled the woman, caught off-guard by her kid's verbal impression. Laughter gurgled in the pit of her stomach, spilling for shamelessly for at least half of a minute. "This is you, sweetling!"

"Me?" the half-human, half-Cetra queried, both of her eyebrows scaling up her forehead in a skeptical manner.

"Mm-hmm. This was you when you were just a baby in my tummy, way before we knew your name and that you were going to be a girl. But your daddy and I were so, so happy that we were having a baby." Ifalna struggled to not let her thoughts strayed too far back into the past – the memories of Gast, including the happy ones, were drenched in longing and pain, and only caused heartache now. Yet the the bright shine of his mustached grin and the warmth of his arms at Ifalna's baby news shimmered through the recesses of her mind. "Anyway, he gave me this locket, and then I put your sonogram inside."

"It's pretty. I've seen some of the nurses wear lockets, but they keep them on necklaces. How come Gast didn't give you a necklace instead?" Aerith asked, scooching up the width of the pillow.

"I'm not really sure. Perhaps he wanted to add another charm to the bracelet I already owned," Ifalna supposed, finally resting her tired head on the cool, cotton surface of her own pillow. "Or perhaps he wanted to teach me a lesson in how I should wear my heart on my sleeve. It's okay to-" A sharp dryness stung at the back of the thirty year-old woman's throat for a split-second, as she recalled how her husband's hands used to stroke against her cheeks, encouraging emotions she preferred to suppress.

"Mommy?" Aerith muttered, panic about to strike.

"Sh, sh, sh. It's okay, sweetling." Ifalna spread the strangled corners of her lips into a smile – warm, but excruciatingly tight – to quell her baby girl's concerns and anxieties. "I'm fine. Just fighting back a yawn."

Nodding, the little girl began clumsily tucking the covers underneath her mom. "Then you need a nice, long snooze before the sun comes back out!"

"Don't you want to learn the rest of what your father told me?"

Of course she did! Aerith was fairly eager to learn more about her father, just not at the expense of her mother's emotions. She had no desire to witness Ifalna, the pillar of strength in her life, reduced to heartbroken tears. Thus, Aerith shook her head to and fro.

"It's okay to wear your heart on your sleeve, but still protect what you love most with all of heart," Ifalna finished.

The temptations of dreams started tugging down at her eyelids, her thoughts wandering to other things as her daughter, who most assuredly inherited her father's remarkable talent for compassion, tried to mother her own mother to sleep. "Sleepytime now, Momma," Aerith quietly commanded and planted a peck atop Ifalna's forehead. She refused to let own how intrigued she was by the idea of a locket.

"Sleepytime now," concurred the last-known Cetra, snapping the heart-shaped gift closed.

/ / /

Beneath the vast cover of night, the two children played. Presently, it was just after their families' first dinner together. Elmyra and Claudia chatted and became more acquainted over a fresh pitcher of warm apple cider, going on and on about stew recipes and sewing hacks, while their respective little ones squealed and ran all over the backyard. Cloud and Aerith hadn't known each other for very long, but one would never guess just from watching them. Friendship appeared to come so easily to them both, as if they were kindred spirits.

"You're pretty fast for a girl," panted the nine year-old boy after yet another lap from end-to-end of the Gainsboroughs' backyard, leaning against the fence to rest and catch his breath after their countless races.

"Thanks! You're pretty observant for a jerk!" Aerith countered between small, breathless wheezes, and lightly shoved her new playmate's shoulders.

Chortling, Cloud collapsed toward the ground to lie admist the cool, calm bed of tall grass. Aerith joined him a moment later, glad for a break from their games. Side-by-side, Nibelheim's blond outcast and the new girl idly fixed their respective blue and green eyes on the never-ending, indigo sky above as the millions of alabaster stars twinkled, both dim and bright.

The flaxen-haired boy extended one arm upward, stretching it as far as he could, almost as though he could reach into the heavens and hold the little, winking lights in his palm. For some inexplicable reason, Cloud had been worked up into one of those moods where anything felt possible. Tangible. Wonderful. Eventually, however, his arm got tired and flopped back down to earth. Then, Cloud turned his head to the side to look at Aerith; from her profile, her viewed that her eyes had closed, with her noses scrunching up. Her hands were gracefully folded together as if in plea while she whispered something to herself.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked curiously.

"Praying," the little girl answered, finishing the task.

"What for?"

Aerith rolled her face to the side, returning Cloud's gaze. A serene smile drew across her mouth as she spoke, "That would spoil the surprise."

"I don't understand," he stated matter-of-factually, though he had no intention of pressing her on the subject or insist on further elaboration. He liked that Aerith was a little enigmatic.

"Hey, Cloud! What do you want to be when you grow up? An astronaut?" the petite brunette queried, bolting up into a sitting position.

"Nuh-uh..." To and fro, the lad shook his head in response as he also sat up. "I want to be in SOLDIER."

"Oh." For a second, Aerith's evergreen irises fled toward the ground betwixt them like she was uncomfortable.

"Everyone likes SOLDIERs and thinks they're cool. Don't you?" babbled Cloud, who was suddenly racked with fear that he'd said the wrong thing and upset Aerith.

"I've never met one, so how I could say?" she replied, combing her tiny fingers through the long, thick blades of grass. "I've always pictured them to be stern and mean."

"Well, yeah. But isn't that what makes SOLDIERs cool?" inquired the small lad.

Again, the very middle of Aerith's face wrinkled. Her gut reaction was to tell him 'no, of course not,' but held her tongue. Gradually airing out a breath, she rose her earth-green gaze to her friend's. "I don't anything about what makes a person cool or not, but I think you're cool just the way you are."

This time, it was Cloud's turn to look away. Her statement whispered through the suddenly nervous confines of his chest, causing his heart to rattle; although, the boy's brain was not nearly as convinced. "You're the only one in this entire place who thinks that."

Both of his legs slid back until his knees touched his chest, his arms hugging them close. Cloud's mind traveled back in time to recollect the instances where Mister Lockhart had fixed glowers, so intense and so enraged that he had multitudinous nightmares. From now on, everyone would regard him with grudges plastered on their faces; even more terrifying was the reality he lived every day. Not a single person in Nibelheim liked him. At best, Cloud was tolerated by a handful of grown-ups. At worst, they made him feel like a flea-ridden rodent, sensing the townspeoples' collective disgust and disdain in the exact second he stepped outside his house to do anything. It was as if the very reminder of his existence automatically perturbed everyone.

"Cloud...?"

"If I can make it into SOLDIER one day, maybe they won't call me a 'menace to society' anymore, and I could make everyone proud to know me," the nine year-old boy deliberated, straightening his legs back out. "I think that would be nice."

Another pause settled between the pair as their stares fixated on each other's face; Cloud searched for understanding while Aerith merely pondered upon his heart's actual, deepest wish. She longed to tell him that Shinra and anything associated with the corporation wasn't anything grand, but she dared not taint the beautiful hope painted in the azure of his irises. She related to what it felt like to be hated and mistreated. How could she ever tell him that he was wrong?

"Just don't ever lose sight of yourself, okay? I want us to always be friends," eventually came the young Cetra's response.

With her heart racing a mile a minute, the little girl tried to summon all of her bravery to place one hand over Cloud's, which laid amongst the grass and dirt. Over and over again, she envisioned herself moving her hand to rest over his – a gesture that might have delivered a sense of comfort, a gentle touch that could have conveyed her support of his dreams. But it was no use. Her hand, laying immobile in her lap, was practically paralyzed. Still, Aerith was determined. Her ancestors had gone toe-to-toe with Jenova and won; certainly, she could show her friend some kindness.

Finally, after what felt like a millenia of hyping herself up, Aerith's hand lifted from her neatly folded lap and hovered toward Cloud's wrist. But then, a new, little friend got in the way. "Woah! Cloud, look! A flying light landed on your hand!" exclaimed the brunette, forgetting her previous objective altogether.

"Hmm? Oh!" Glancing down to the bright light somehow standing on his pinky finger, Cloud slowly and carefully elevated his hand so that Aerith could see the little guy better. "This is a fairy light!"

"A fairy light... Wow! So pretty!" The sight of the new creature filled her with whimsy and wonder. The bug was some kind of crossbreed of butterfly and lightning bug – tiny, maybe the length of a thumbnail, the wings were wide and colorful, the hues of pink and blue glowed vibrantly in the dark. It was as if a star had dropped down from the night sky to pay the children a visit, not the least bit concerned for its safety as they gawked. The fairy light buzzed and twitched its wings as its microscopic legs crawled over Cloud's knuckles. An illumination, a color similar to the Lifestream, flickered along its stem-like body. "There's nothing like this back in the slums!" Aerith stated, intoxicated by the awe pulsing through her brain.

"Legend has it fairy lights are spirit guides from the Lifestream," Cloud said, passing off the six-legged insect to Aerith.

"Like ghosts or something?"

"Not exactly, but who knows?"

Miraculously, a kaleidoscope of fairy lights appeared. A wave of neon luminescence fluttered around Aerith and Cloud, neither of them afraid or skittish as a bustle of color and light flapped and swirled about. More and more stars drifted down from the heavens to grant Aerith's prayer that her best friend could touch the evening sky. The two children chuckled and giggled in tandem, whenever the wings of the fairy lights brushed against their bare skin – cheeks, arms, legs – and started jogging after them around the backyard.

Right now was not the time to look ahead to the future, but to be children and enjoy this sweet, fleeting innocence while it lasted.

/ / /

Once upon a different night, the Gainsborough girl found herself restless as though she'd absorbed an absurd abundance of caffeine into her system. Crazy jitters shuddered through her muscles, pleading for mobility as she lied in bed, struggling to sleep. Perhaps her insomniatic state was due to the soda she had with lunch, though she was almost positive her metabolism would have gotten rid of most of the sugar and caffeine by now; maybe autumn itself was the culprit keeping her awake at an unreasonable hour – the song winds hurdling twigs and acorns off their tree branches and against the tin roof while fat blobs of precipitation thudded against the ground outside, yet such sounds usually lulled Aerith straight to sleep. Even now, the adolescent didn't feel bothered by the sounds per se; nature's soundtrack was the name she preferred to use and still found it soothing.

Maybe, just maybe, Aerith couldn't get to sleep, because of the noises inside of her head. 'Down the road.' 'Haunted.' 'Keep out.' 'Go inside,' chanted the numerous murmurs over and over and over again, allowing Aerith not even a wink of rest. 'Follow.' 'Dance.' Granted, the voices weren't exactly disarming, threatening, or remotely scary; that's because Aerith was sure the whispers came from the family of fairy lights flying around inside of her bedroom. 'Follow us.' 'The last Cetra – she can be trusted.' 'Aerith...' The same eight sentences were repeated for hours, well into two in the morning, no matter what she did to ignore them. She had attempted talking to the neon creatures, asking them what they wanted; she tried smashing a pillow around her ears; she tried to put a music disc on a record player to drown out the voices. All to no avail.

Finally, the half-Ancient sprang from her bed and to her feet, softly tip-toed outside in an effort not to disturb Elmyra, and succumbed to the strange, new urge to dance. Her bare feet pressed into the softened earth with every step, every motion she made forward, and never once slipped. She moved like a ballerina through the drizzle – limber and elegant – as her legs twirled about. The early morning breeze rushed against her damp, oak-brown cascade of long hair, the locks blowing with the wind. All the while, the fairy lights gathered around Aerith as if to dance with her, following her guidance like a hurricane of lambent colors. The cold kisses of rain motivated her limbs to keep going, like her puppet strings were pulled every time she grew tired. Aerith wanted to stop, but she didn't want to stop; she longed for her sleep, but dreams wouldn't take her, would not rescue her. Though perhaps good fortune had smiled upon her in a way. If anyone in Nibelheim had witnessed Aerith prancing around like a glow-in-the-dark fawn, they might have burned her at the stake for vile witchery.

'Keep out.' 'Don't.' 'Go.' 'Inside.' 'Inside are lies.' 'It is there.'

"I... I don't understand any of this. Please explain to me," a truly winded Aerith begged the luminous, winged bugs. They were meant to serve as spirit guides was what Cloud said to her some time ago and the idea never left her head. What did they want from her? What were they guiding her to? "I don't understand any of you." Was she unable to make heads or tails of what the voices wanted from her because she was only part Cetra?

'Tainted.' 'Dirty blood.' 'Fix it.' Dispersing from the girl, the bright, butterfly-like bug hybrids all flew away, abandoning Aerith as the downpour grew heavier, retreating toward the heavenly stardust obscured by the overcast. Yet still, her limbs refused to ever steady again, defying Aerith's will to settle down and have her body cooperate.

"Aerith..." a new voice beckoned the drenched child's name. But this voice wasn't new at all. It was the same one that used to sing her to sleep, the one that used to tell her that everything would be alright. "Be still, sweetling."

"Momma?" Astonished, Aerith's arms and legs finally calmed at Ifalna's gentle request. "Momma, is it really you?" From a distance, pale blue shimmer of a silhouette shone with the aid of the waxing crescent moon. Aerith could barely make sense of what she was seeing, the nightly shadows and shifting clouds doing more to hide the phantom.

"Yes, Aerith. Come to me, my child. Let me hold you in my arms. I have missed you with my entire heart!" Ifalna shouted, desperate to be heard above the rumbling thunder.

"Mom!" the orphan yelled in response. Her arms extended forward, ready to feel the familiar warmth of her mother's embrace just once. But an invisible entity kept Aerith rooted in place, its strong grip around her midsection.

"Aerith, why won't you come to me? Have you forgotten about your mother?" Two tones emanated from Ifalna's vocal chords – one of the dark, gravelly anger, like she was scolding her daughter for not running across the backyard, the other one meek and heartsick, full of fear that Aerith no longer loved her.

"I'm trying! I can't move! Mom, you have to come to me!"

"It's true then. Your power isn't great enough. The Cetra line is erased. I have no daughter, no legacy." Then, Ifalna rested her arms at her sides, the ghostly apparition of her slowly fading from sight.

"No, Mom! Don't go! Mom, please! Momma!" the young girl beseeched, screaming at the top of her lungs.

All of a sudden, the clouds clashed together to create a clap of thunder that almost punctured straight through her eardrums. Not a second later, luminous lightning flashed across the veil of thick overcast, shining as bright as the sun, and show Ifalna's entire image. Only the figure no longer resembled the mother she remembered.

That was all the information Aerith registered before waking up with her arms and legs struggling against an unknown force.

"Aerith, it's me!"

Upon being gently settled on a concrete floor, all of Aerith's emotions and conflict halted. "Cl-Cl-Cloud?"

Exhausted and practically drained of all other intelligible thoughts, he was the only thing she saw, the only thing she knew. For that, Aerith launched herself into his arms if only to prove to herself that awful dream was over, that he was real. Embedded in the safety of Cloud's embrace, with his arms secured around her, Aerith noted the faint aroma of grass and soap wafting from his clothes – the scent a small comfort as the fog in her mind cleared. Yeah, he was real. Relief washed through her bloodstream as they continued to hold on to each other, neither one quite ready to pull away, as the horrors in her mind faded away. Cloud was here. Cloud found her. Cloud had rescued her from her dreams.

"Cloud..." she murmured, breathing out the simple, singular syllable of his name as if she hadn't seen him in eons.

"It's okay. You're awake now," the lad whispered in reply, and let go only when she did.

Momentarily, Aerith took stock of her surroundings as she sat on cold, hard stone. Firstly, the twelve year-old noted that she was not at home, nor Cloud's. This area of town wasn't one she was too familiar with. Together, Cloud and Aerith sat in front of a very tall, very wide house – probably the mansion of some big wig – with a stone wall guarding the property, though the gate looked easy enough to climb over. Secondly, everything was as dry as a bone. Not a single speck of rain was absorbed into the ground. The clouds, if there even were any on this night, gave one another a wide berth. It was the night of a new moon; thus, it was the responsibility of the stars to deliver light, and they performed they obligation marvelously. Thanks to the constellations gleaming high above, the wee morning hours weren't quite so dark. There had never been a storm. It had been only part of the dream.

And lastly, Cloud's chocobo-patterned pajamas.

"Where are we? What happened?" inquired Aerith.

"You sleptwalked all the way to Shinra Mansion," Cloud said, burying his hands deep into his fuzzy pajama pockets. "Sleep-ran more like. I followed you all the way here. Tried calling your name a couple of times to get your attention. Then when you started climbing up the fence, I grabbed you."

"Wow. I can't believe you let a girl, a sleeping girl no less, beat you all the way over here," Aerith gibed, half-heartedly forcing out a laugh.

Rolling his eyes, the blond boy scraped himself off the ground. "Yeah, whatever. I only just decided to become a Turk and you're already acting up." Reaching out a hand to help her up, he winked – teasing her right back.

She laughed, sincerely this time. As she reached an hand up for Cloud, an abrupt, sharp pain, like a butcher knife slicing its way through bone and marrow, stung at the upper part of her arm. She winced at the unpleasant sensation, though it came as soon as it went.

In an instant, Cloud was back down on his haunches, examining her for any signs of injury. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. My arm just hurt for a second there," Aerith replied, indicating to the bandage adhered to her bicep.

"An injection?"

"Yeah. The Turks started giving me some kind of medicine through my blood. It's to keep me from getting sick, I guess," Aerith elaborated as she successfully stood up with Cloud. "So, what's in Shinra Mansion?"

Shrugging somewhat nonchalantly, Cloud retorted, "Don't know. But we can talk more on the way back. The sun will be up soon."

"Got it."

"So, are you going to thank me for what I did?"

"Are you going to tell me more about those chocobo-themed jammies?" Aerith joked in return, gesturing to the frazzled, wrinkled state of his nightwear. "Thank you, Cloud. For everything."

/ / /

"Add some lime zest. That will put some zang into the meat," Claudia instructed the pair of tweens, giving them their first, full cooking lesson.

"Do I sound like that?" Cloud whispered to his best friend, leaning close so that only she could hear as he beat some eggs. "That country?"

"You mean like you eat cornbread with every meal?" Aerith questioned him in reference to how Miss Strife's country twang thickened as she taught. Cloud nodded. "Oh, definitely. But only when you're super mad."

"Hey, lovebirds! Pay attention! I am bequeathing valuable wisdom here! I'd prefer it if ya'll actually listened to me!" Claudia commanded, partially joking around at their expense. Exaggeratedly, she stuck her nose in the air as an indignant expression sank into her facial contours.

"Sorry, Mom."

"Sorry, Claudia."

"That's okay, kiddos. Just remember that when you two are married someday, you'll both need to cook," Claudia replied to their apologies, adopting an 'oh shucks!' lightness.

"Mom..." Cloud grumbled as a pink hue touched his arms.

All Aerith did was giggle and playfully nudge Cloud's shoulder. She didn't think that he needed to feel the least bit embarrassed.

As the afternoon went on, Claudia taught Cloud and Aerith how to prepare and cook a large pot of beef chili, potato rolls, and snicker doodles – not for any real reason other than the rain had spoiled the friends' plans to go on a hike, and they wanted something else to occupy their time with, so why not learn how to cook something other than a simple soup? Even with Claudia intermittent teasing, everyone enjoyed the hours spent over the stovetop, oven, and the like. Aerith discovered that mincing beef was surprisingly relaxing, adding seasonings that were sure to at least give the chili a descent flavor, and traded jokes with Claudia about how Cloud's biscuits would probably turn out emaculate with all the nutmeg and fat he added; she was content to follow Miss Strife's guidance almost to the letter, while Cloud preferred to march to the beat of his own drum.

Fortunately, when all was said and done, the food turned out fine. Aerith's meat chili was goopier than she liked, but the heavy amount of sauteed vegetables helped soak in the sauce in a tasty way. Her potato rolls had a fluffy, buttery inside while the crust was slightly too brown from being inside the oven for a few minutes longer than intended, but Claudia assured the flower girl that everything had turned out excellent for a first attempt and Aerith agreed, proud of what she accomplished. Meanwhile, Cloud's baking adventure turned into a baking mishap, though still edible and still delicious. His snicker doodles never hardened or crisped into anything solid, taking on a consistently more similar to a bread pudding. With the exception of the odd bite of clumpy sugar, everyone was satisfied with their efforts.

"All in all, I give you both a B-. Sorry, Cloud. Your dish definitely brought down the score," Claudia remarked, as the three settled down in the living room, digesting far away from the dirty dishes.

"I know it, Mom," Cloud confessed, easygoing but resigned to the feedback. He made himself comfortable on the hardwood floor, its clean, cool surface lowering the heat of his skin as his limbs sprawled out wide. "I'm just relieved we're done."

"Tomorrow, we'll try pizza," Miss Strife stated, kidding of course.

An exasperated, agonized groan resonated from the twelve year-old boy's throat at even the idea of spending another afternoon standing around in a boiling hot kitchen.

All the while Cloud and Claudia exchanged lighthearted jabs, somewhere in the recesses of Aerith's mind was the dimmest glimmber of a strange thought – a question, really – would Ifalna have gotten along this easily with the Strifes? Most likely. Then, Aerith noticed something hanging down from a brass chain around Claudia's neck. "I didn't know that you own a locket?"

"This old thing?" Claudia inquired, gingerly brushing two fingers over the square-shaped item.

"Mm-hmm!" clarified Aerith with a few nods of her head. "It's very pretty. Are those real jewels?"

"Oh, no. Not at all." Carefully, Miss Strife unclasped the coppery chain and handed the locket over to Aerith for a closer inspection. "They're all faux. It was a birthday gift from Maw and Paw Strife, my grandfolks. When I was about your age, I wanted a locket more than anything in the world, but it had to have sapphires and rubies encrusted on it," Claudia elaborated. Her deep, sky-blue eyes appeared to drift into the abyss of memory lane – looking at Aerith, but wasn't quite focused on her.

"Why sapphires and rubies?" Cloud queried from his spot on the floor.

"Because I was a thirteen year-old girl and I thought jewels would make a sophisticated addition. Mind you, I never thought I'd ever receive any kind of locket. My family was never a wealthy one," Claudia continued. "Anyway, my grandparents handmade me that one. I didn't care if it was gold or not, or if it was decked out in colorful rocks. It just meant the world to me that they had created it especially for me, and they'd been paying attention."

During Claudia verbal reminiscence, Aerith couldn't help but smile to herself the entire time as the pads of her digits inquisitively explored the homemade product – caressing the fake gems and the words, 'To our best girl,' engraved over the face of the locket – as her own memories kept wandering back to Ifalna. "Your grandparents were fine craftsmen. I wish they were still around so that I could ask them to make one for me."

"You want a locket?" Slowly, Cloud peeled himself off the ground to glimpse his best friend's expression of longing. He also observed something that was a little more subtle amidst the yearning, something in the way her eyebrows furrowed. Hurt, perhaps.

"Mm-hmm." The brunette nodded as she handed the brass trinket back to its rightful owner. "My mo- um, someone I used to know awhile ago had a locket, too, and I've been fascinated with the idea ever since. Only that one was worn as a charm on a bracelet." Aerith kept her earth-green gaze planted on Cloud for a long moment in the hopes of centering her emotions, lest they overwhelm her. She believed that Cloud served as compass back to peace, her anchor to solid ground, that kept her mind at ease. His eyes were as calm and as blue as the ocean on a still night, with not a wave or a ripple to disrupt the water's veil. His visage was adorably sheepish, with him studying her right back.

"Don't think you've ever mentioned wanting a locket until now," Cloud nonchalantly commented, leaning his back against the coffee table's legs.

"I try not to be materialistic," Aerith responded, shrugging her shoulders.

"Nonsense. There isn't anything wrong with a young lady wanting to own a necklace or a bracelet or what-have-you every once in awhile," Miss Strife spoke, dismissing Aerith's concern with a ninety degree flick of the wrist. "Would either of you like to see what's inside of it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Sure, why not?"

With Aerith and Cloud gathering on the left and right ends of the couch, the Strife matriarch scooted toward the middle cushion so that both could take a gander at the content held inside the locket. It wasn't a family portrait or the lock of her former lover's hair, nor a secret ingredient to a recipe like Cloud expected from his mom. Instead, it was a folded up piece of paper – a fortune from a cookie – that had been tinged yellow from age. Very, very carefully, Claudia unfolded the paper and read, "'Clouds are inevitable. Flowers would wilt to dust if it weren't for the shade. Look for the beauty instead of expecting eternal sunshine.'" Then she flipped the fortune over to reveal, 'Cloud sounds like a fine name for our son. - Zephyr' scribbled along the back in black ink.

"You got my name from a fortune cookie?" inquired the son the fortune had referenced.

"Your father did. I didn't want something that made me sound like I was high on psychedelics. Your dad and I agreed on Francis, after my Paw, but then he changed his mind after we got takeout one night." Claudia wrapped one arm her boy's shoulders and squeezed him closer to her for a second. "I had no intention of naming you anything except Francis, even if you'd been a girl. But it had been raining cats and dogs the day you were born – had been raining the whole week, in fact. God, it was so dismal and dreary. Floods and thunderstorms in August? Practically unheard of! But when I held you for the first time, I had never been more glad for anything in my entire life. It was like the sky cried tears of joy along with me. So, you had to be Cloud. You just were. Are."

"Mom, you're getting all sappy," Cloud whined as his mother gently pressed her lips against the top of his head. But he didn't have the heart to push her away.

"I can't help it. I just love you so much." And even more importantly, Claudia loved that he was happy, that Nibelheim hadn't turned him cold despite the villagers' best efforts. Then, she draped an arm over Aerith, wrangling her into a grateful embrace. "Both of you are good kids. Thank the lucky stars that you two found each other so early in life."

"Every day," Aerith murmured, trading secret smiles with Cloud.

"Yeah," he concurred, relaxing into his mother's warm hug. "I love you, too, Mom."

/ / /

"Do you really have to go?" the half-Cetra whined, keeping one arm linked around Cloud's as the two companions sat together on the Strife's front stoop for what felt like would be the final time.

"Hey, come on, I'll be back before you know it. Won't even notice I'm gone," he replied, quite enjoying the way she clung to him. Her warm, floral scent surrounded him in the most comfortable way possible, weaving through his synapses like a painkiller.

"Yeah, right." Aerith couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes, finding his joke almost cruel. "We just got together and you're already leaving."

"Please. We've been a couple since the day you moved here."

"You know what I mean, Cloud."

That he did. A soft chortle rumbled from his chest, trying to mask the manner in which he could have melted at her feet. Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, Cloud realized that he should have agonized over his upcoming departure from Nibelheim, the tiny world most familiar to him; he should have been sad to say his fond farewells to the girl he couldn't imagine not seeing every day; sickness should have gurgled horribly in the pit of his stomach as the moments they had left dwindled away. Perhaps the nerves and misery would hit him some time later, but for right now all he could register was the feeling of luck. It wasn't really that long ago when Cloud used to dream of enlisting to SOLDIER, wanting more than anything to become a hero – to become someone worthy of respect and acceptance in the eyes of his fellow townspeople. He used to have posters of the famous Sephiroth pasted on his bedroom walls, trying to keep himself inspired despite his neighbors and peers shunning, mocking, and harassing him.

Now, Cloud looked forward to a career where he could eventually be assigned to protect Aerith, the one who gave him acceptance and understanding, unconditionally since the very moment their eyes met – and she never once forced him to earn it. At fourteen years of age, Cloud no longer sought all of Nibelheim's approval, nor did he secretly long for it from any of them. He was far more concerned with repaying Aerith for all the friendship she'd given him over the years. Nine year-old Cloud never thought anyone other than his mother would miss him when the day came for him to venture into the great, big world, never truly imagined that he would ever aspire to become anything else but a SOLDIER, pining for companionship. Yet, here he was, with a girl, who was so unbelievably beautiful inside and out, hurt by his absence when he hadn't even gone anywhere yet.

There was simply no room in the future Turk's mind for sadness at the moment; only joy. Love. God, he loved her.

Slowly, Cloud turned his head to lay his sapphire gaze on the fifteen year-old girl's face. The red and golden rays from the descending sun glimmered across her fair complexion as if she were a romantic film heroine. "Everything's gonna work out, you know. I'm not leaving forever."

"I know," Aerith said, though the belief of his return felt intangible. "But it's still going to be a drastic change – from getting to spend time with you every day to suddenly going cold turkey. And when you get back, who can guess what else will be different?"

"Not us, Aerith. We won't change," Cloud proclaimed, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

His statement was made in the sincerest tone, for he believed it was as true and obvious as the sky was blue, and Aerith yearned to hold onto that belief with just as much strength of heart – that nothing between them would ever change, that their bond would always remain and before their safe haven from the world. Falling into the sweet, cyan oblivion of Cloud's eyes, Aerith engaged her lips with his in a chaste kiss. She hoped to disguise her weakness and dared to forget about it by merely closing her eyelids, soaking in the amazing heat from her best friend's kiss. However, when she meant to lean away, Cloud's hand started to cup the back of her head ever-so gently, which resulted in one, innocent kiss turning into something deeper. With each second that passed, the teenage girl felt her stomach doing all sorts of gymnastics, while her heart pumped at a speed that could put a cheetah to shame. For a minute, Aerith was just a girl in love with a boy who loved her right back.

"St-" Stay, she longed to say, if only once to let him know that he didn't have to become a Turk; he didn't have to leave at all. Cloud could say and they could hatch up a plan to run away together, somewhere Shinra would never find them. Yet her tongue would not permit the full word to exit her mouth. Her brain would not allow her selfish heart to spoil Cloud's future, not when he was inches away from adulthood. "I mean we should stop before our moms see."

Nodding in agreement, Cloud leaned back and used his arms as support. "Does Elmyra know about us?"

"Yeah. I told her right after you dropped me off the other day. What about Claudia?"

"Yep. Called me out as soon as I got through the door. She was ecstatic."

"Elmyra, too. Something about how she was owed seventy gil?"

"What? You think they wagered on when we'd get together?"

In unison, the teenage duo laughed at the very idea of their respective mothers placing such bets.

"I guess they've always known that we'd eventually go steady," Aerith stated.

"Yeah." Cloud's cheeks simmered at the heat of people catching on that his feelings for Aerith having been obvious. "There's no foolin' anyone around here, but that's okay." It's not exactly like he wanted to hide it anyway.

As if on cue, the front door swung open with Miss Strife holding it and Missus Gainsborough standing right behind here. The younger of the two blonde women appeared as though she was struggling to stop herself from turning into an emotional mess – perfectly understandable, considering her fourteen year-old son had mere minutes left of his childhood. Claudia wanted to scoop her baby boy into her arms and never ever let him wander into that blackening horizon, and he could simply be her little boy forever; but she decided to display strength instead. Before the youthful mother took one more step forward and before she could utter a single word to him, she resolved herself to a warm composure – swallowing the sharp, heavy knots of morose down her scorched gullet.

"It's almost evening. If you hope to make it to the city by morning, you should get started," Claudia said, every word tasting bitter on her tongue.

"Yeah, you're right. Not a lot of daylight left to travel by," the teenage boy concurred, scraping himself off the porch step. "It'll be neat to ride through the night."

"Or you could delay your travel plans until tomorrow morning," his mother suggested, knowing full well that prolonging his inevitable departure would only result in no one getting a good night's sleep, but it was worthy a try.

"Nah, I'm ready," Cloud said, offering his mother a reassuring, resolute nod. He wanted to leave, before any doubts or fear could creep in to spoil her determination. "I'll make you proud, Mom."

"I've been proud of you your entire life," she replied, mustering every ounce of courage in her morale to give him a dry, tear-free smile. Then she pulled Cloud into her arms for one, last embrace, at least for the next while, and held onto him for as long as she could.

Meanwhile, Elmyra had her chin perched atop her fifteen year-old daughter's head, sympathetic to Claudia's plight – batting off the thought of hugging Aerith goodbye one day – though she felt her own foreign, odd sense of sorrow. She'd miss Cloud, too. "If you ever do to me what he's doing to Claudia, I'm grounding you for the rest of your life," the elder blonde jested in a hushed voice.

"Do what?" the young, brunette girl inquired.

"Grow up," Elmyra retorted.

"Oh, Mom." Aerith rolled her eyes, though she was amused by the fact that despite being older than Cloud, there was no pressure or expectation on her to move out.

"Welp, it's time," Cloud announced, yanking a duffle bag off the ground. "I'll see ya when I see ya." For only one second longer, his sky-blue irises remained on Aerith's face, drinking in her beauty once more before he walked toward his motorcycle.

A twinge of anxiety bubbled at the bottom of his stomach, though that twinge turned into an outbreak of fear. What if this was a bad idea? What if he returned to Nibelheim as a failure? What if Aerith forgot all about him? How were they meant to carry out a relationship with him traveling so far away? Even as his feet continued moving forward into the future, fear followed in the darkness of his shadow. He needed to keep on walking, needed to look forward. Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back. Whatever you do, do not look back, the soon-to-be man chanted to himself, trying to ignore the invisible tether between him and home.

An impossible task.

Inevitably, Cloud's resolve dissolved. But as he began to turn himself around to glance at his loved ones, he saw Aerith running down the walkway.

"Cloud!" No more than a second following, the longtime best friends became comfortably, tightly, and safely encased in one another's eager embrace and soaked in each other's familiar warmth and love as the final glimmers of sunlight sank into the planet, not that either of them noticed or cared. "You're the best. You just are, and I know you're gonna do great out there," Aerith murmured against the shell of his ear, with her chin supported on his shoulder. "I am grateful, you know, that your new dream will lead you right back to me someday."

"Right back to you," the blond teenager vowed, his voice strong, yet sentimental. Suddenly, Cloud's fears were chased away, cured of his anxieties, thanks to Aerith. She believed in him. She trusted him. She reminded him why he was pursuing a career with the Turks. He was willing to trade a few years of his youth for a lifetime with her. "Write to me."

/ / /

At seven in the morning – before the roosters would squawk, before the first rays of sunlight would fall over the grass, before another soul was even awake – Tifa Lockhart took a nice, long stroll around the village. She'd been unable to sleep all the way through the night, tossing and turning as the memories of the last few days churned achingly inside of her head. Thus, the thirteen year-old girl decided to write a note to her father that she had gone to get some fresh air, left it on his bedside table, and exited the house.

For an hour, the young girl's musings alternated between near-apathy, totally blank, and all sorts of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the easy morning breeze performed wonders for her mental state; she was able to appreciate the trickles of gold and pink light glowing like faint streaks over the horizon, while the dark sky's alabaster freckles stood fearless against the origins of day. So beautiful. So peaceful. Such a welcome change from her stuffy bedroom. On the other hand, Tifa was quite miserable, constantly choking down the swell in her throat, the one that kept urging her to scream out.

In the last couple of days, she'd been completely deprived all of her friends. Lester, Emilio, and Tyler had abandoned Tifa for better, more profitable opportunities in Midgar. She didn't want to begrudge them futures abroad or feel betrayal at being left behind, but she still felt what she felt. She was furious at the boys, but she missed them so, so much. For all of their faults and flaws, those terrible, but downright dear boys were her best friends and had always been her best friends for as far back as she could recall. And now they were just gone. No more tea partiest, no more picnics, no more silly games, no more outdoor sleepovers. The time for change, for the transition into adulthood had arrived, the most inevitable part of life, though she never anticipated the shift would prove so ruthless and so drastic.

Tifa wondered if they would remember to send letters of they had any real intention to visit like they'd promised; after all, each one of them had declared their love for her, had stated their plans to marry her and steal her away to the big city. Even though the town darling didn't exactly reciprocate any of their romantic feelings, she felt small traces of reassurance seed in her heart – of hope that she really did mean the world to Tyler, Lester, and Emilio.

Still, it didn't change the fact that they'd left and took her childhood with them, those idiot boys.

With her arms wrapped around her shoulders and burgundy orbs cast downward, Tifa continued to walk through Nibelheim. It was the one time where solitude didn't feel like a cruel reprimand. Out here, she could think.

Eventually, however, Tifa looked up. At first, uncertainty drew a surprised gasp from her throat when her slightly dazed, grape-red gaze spotted a figure several yards up ahead. The subtle, feminine outline was easy to make sense of, despite the distance, as the cottoncandy-blue skirt of a nightgown picked up with the wind along with the milk chocolate tresses of hair. Confounded, the thirteen year-old's heartbeat accelerated like a racecar put into high gear, assuming that she was staring at a full-body apparition looming in front of the gate to Shinra Mansion. Yet the more she looked, the more she realized that the female figure didn't belong to any ghost. Not that did much to put her poor heart at ease when she figured out who it was.

"Tifa?" Tifa shouted curiously.

"Hmm?" Slowly, Aerith shifted her neck and head around to locate the source calling hr name. "Oh. Hey, Tifa. Good morning!"

Next, the Lockhart girl jogged up the path to properly greet the elder teen. "Hey! What's up? What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Playfully, Aerith's green eyes scrolled up and down Tifa's form, which was also donned in a nightdress.

"I just wanted to get some air. I didn't realize how far I had walked," the raven-haired girl divulged, nervously scraping her fingernails against the burning fever pooling in her right cheek while she stood idly with Aerith. "So much has changed recently and I have a lot on my mind. All of it makes my room feel so tiny and I needed to get out. I imagine that's why you're out here, too? Because Cloud left?"

If Tifa had blinked at that precise moment, she would have missed the way Aerith's emerald irises glanced away and the dubious furrow of her eyebrows. Quickly training the contours of her face, Aerith offered Tifa a small, but heartfelt smile. "Yeah. I miss him like crazy."

"That's how I feel about Tyler, Emilio, and Lester. I really underestimated how much I'd miss them," Tifa replied, wondering if she should inquire about that peculiar look she'd just seen on Aerith's face. She wasn't sure that she possessed the courage to ask such a thing.

"Makes sense. People called you all the 'Four Fiends' for being so tight-knit."

"Yeah. Looks like those days are over."

"What makes you say that?"

"I doubt I'll ever see or hear from them again."

That cynical expression returned to Aerith's visage, though she clearly wasn't trying to conceal it this time. "Please, Tifa! Those guys are in love with you! Every last one of them! One day, all three will come back to sweep you off your feet. Your only problem is deciding which one to marry."

Shaking her head back and forth, the younger girl emitted a sarcastic laugh. "My options might have slimmed down if you had ever given Tyler or Lester the time of day. Tell me, did either of them invite you to an evening rendezvous just before they left?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't-"

One hand rose up to mute the rest of Aerith's statement. "I rest my case, your Honor."

"It doesn't mean that you won't hear from them. They're your friends!" Aerith said, ever the optimist.

Tifa found the fifteen year-old's hopeful disposition to be the epitome of endearing, even though she know how it must have inwardly pained her to lend any goodwill to the boys who had bullied Cloud Strife. "We'll see. Thanks for saying so, Aerith. There's no way it's easy for you to say anything good about them, though."

"I certainly don't like Lester, Tyler, and Emilio," the brunette confirmed with one, sharp nod. She began to restlessly rock back and forth upon her feet, digging her hands into the bottoms of her nightgown's pockets. "But that doesn't negate the good in them. After all, they did eventually leave Cloud alone. Lester even... Well, he apologized the best way he knew how. And anyway, like I said, they were still your friends. Still are your friends. It's only a matter of time until letters start stacking up."

"Maybe." Internally, Tifa remained skeptical, knowing full well that their heads could turn and their attention could stray to whatever types of women Midgar had to offer. Besides, it wasn't like she longed for their romantic affection, not when that was something she couldn't ever return. Did Lester, Tyler, or Emilio respect her as a friend or was she a mere one in a thousand of pretty girls they'd encounter? How could she know? "So, what about you and Cloud? Think he'll write?"

"When he gets the chance," Aerith answered. He had phoned her twice since leaving the other night, a fact she didn't want to flaunt or brag about.

"Cloud seems reliable. I mean, it's so obvious he thinks you hung the moon or something. Not that that's a bad a thing. You're perfect." Oh, no. Tifa was rambling. She had started to think too much about how cool it was to talk to Aerith, who was always so self-assured, poised, and pretty. Was her breath okay? "P-P-Perfect for him, for Cloud. Not that I'm aware of your imperfection."

"Thanks?" she responded, unsure of how else to reply to Tifa's mouth-stream of flattery and nonsense. "Anyway, both of should get back home before the 'rents get worried."

Bashfully, the thirteen year-old girl kicked at the ground as she tried to work up the gumption to speak again, though she feared that there was a very real chance that the butterflies currently taking residence within her stomach would come flying out of her mouth. "Hey... Um, would you like to walk back together, by any chance? We might as well, since we're headed in the same direction."

"Okay!" Aerith exclaimed excitedly, practically leaping with a childlike joy that threatened to melt Tifa's heart then and there.

Thus, the two teenaged girls casually made their way back toward Nibelheim, while the sun slowly ascended in the sky. Aerith and Tifa giggled and smiled at one another's short stories about their respective friend groups. Tifa regaled Aerith about the time she came down with a pretty bad case of food poisoning and how she'd been too ill to do anything for her eleventh birthday. A week after her recovery, the boys dragged her to the park, despite her insistence that she wanted to host a tea party at home. It turned out that Emilio, Tyler, Lester, and her dad had arranged a surprise party to celebrate the event. The party guests had helped clean up the park for the special day, the boys' moms showed up with the most delicious assortment of snacks and sweets, and she'd received a bunch of new dresses. The Nibelheim villagers really, truly loved her and aimed to make her feel like a princess; in many ways, Tifa thought of them all as extended family. Because of them, it had been the most fantastic belated birthday ever.

Then, Aerith told Tifa a story about the time she and Cloud traveled the entire world together. They didn't actually, but their game of make-believe made it feel true enough. One day in Claudia's backyard, Cloud and Aerith had been raking and sweeping the autumn-colored leaves from the porch. At some point, the latter's attention started to wander, so she took the broom, cackled like a witch, and ran around the backyard with the broomstick tucked between her thighs. It didn't take much effort to persuade Cloud to also abandon his task for a spell and talk into flying around the world. Together, they soared across the planet, from continent to continent, though the winds had picked up and eventually knocked them off their transportation methods, and safely deposited them into a fluffy pile of leaves.

"I heard you two playing all the time. It always looked like you guys were having the best time," Tifa commented, wondering if she sounded as jealous as she felt.

"We were! I used to be afraid I'd never have a friend to play with, but I met Cloud and we clicked!" Aerith elucidated, somewhat smiling to herself as memories of Cloud joyously swarmed her brain.

"We clicked, too, when we first met. You, me, and the guys. I was so happy when I thought we were going to add another girl to the group, but..." the black-haired girl trailed off for a moment, uncertain how to conclude her train of thought. In a way, Tifa had always agreed with her three childhood companions that Cloud had stolen Aerith from them. Only now did she register how immature and petty that sounded. "But things worked out differently."

"Yep. It all worked out for the best."

"Did it?"

"Of course! Cloud ended up being my best friend! He's my boyfriend now, too."

"Oh... Oh, that's great! I'm so happy for you! Have you two kissed yet?" Tifa's heart shattered like window glass, as if someone had thrown a baseball straight through her chest, at the abrupt news that her next-door neighbor and her longtime crush were going steady. It also bothered Tifa that Aerith harbored no regrets over not being part of the Four Friends, that not a single part of Aerith longed to be invited to their tea parties and picnics, while Tifa often yearned to join Aerith and Cloud's little world. It wasn't fair.

"Y-Y-Yeah. A few times," Aerith admitted shyly, tucking a strand of rich, almond hair behind the shell of her ear.

"Cool," Tifa remarked. God, why had she even bothered to ask? Envisioning Cloud and Aerith puckering their lips at each other did nothing to bandage the wreckage of her heart. "I hope you two work out."

"Thanks, Tifa. Me, too," the flower girl replied. If she had heard the disappointment woven through the younger girl's tone, she graciously played oblivious to it. "As far as everything else goes, that's all in the past. Maybe it's time you and I start hanging out more."

"Wait, really? Like friends?" Tifa queried, feeling cheer and elation rejuvenate her disposition.

"Yeah. I've always wanted a chance to get to know you better, but things were complicated," the mage rationalized.

"Sounds good to me!" Not all hope was lost! "My dad recently bought a videotape player and a bunch of movies. Why don't you come over tonight? We can watch one!"

"Cool. I'll bring some popcorn," Aerith offered, happy to see Tifa in better spirits.

/ / /

Dear Cloud,

How are you? I pray this letter finds you in tip-top condition. Rude and Reno recently paid Nibelheim a visit. They put more medicine in my arm, even though I finally told them about the weird dreams I have every time they inject that gunk into my bloodstream. They also won't disclose what's in it or explain what it's supposed to do to help my immune system. I suppose not even the Turks are privy to that type of information. All I know is that it's concocted by the biologists at the Shinra Lab.

Anyway, I also asked Reno and Rude how you're doing, how your training is going, all that jazz. As expected, they didn't tell me too much, just that you're doing well in your physical exams! Whatever else is going on for you over there, whatever courses they're putting you through, just know that I'm over here cheering for you.

Things haven't changed much in Nibelheim, despite the serious decrease of the male population. Your mom is doing quite well, all things considered. She's spending more time with my mom. You should hear them clucking around about how you and I are going to get married one day, and squabble over who we'll name our children after. They're so embarrassing to listen to sometimes.

Tifa Lockhart and I also started hanging out more recently. We watch a lot of videotapes together at her house, we're becoming more proficient in the kitchen, and we've even started sparring! Ever since the Three Stooges moved to Midgar, she's become quite passionate about fighting. She even found a master to train her as a monk. She's very good! To be honest with you, I used to think of Tifa as someone who was sort of spoiled, maybe self-interested, but either she changed in the last three months or I completely misjudged her. Tifa is actually sweet and dependable. Mister Lockhart doesn't like having me around his house very often. He's still sore about the time I told him that I wouldn't stop hanging out with you. The first time Tifa and I spent time together, her father told her that I was a disobedient and coarse brat with a superiority complex, and he didn't want us growing close. Tifa snapped at him. "Dad, that's so embarrassing! You don't even know her! I don't even know her, because of your immaturity! Apologize to my guest this instance and stop holding a grudge over things that happened a million years ago!" Then he really apologized! I can't believe how cool Tifa is!

Even still, I miss you like crazy, Cloud. Somehow this village feels even smaller without you here.

Sincerely,

Aerith

P.S. I love you!

Adorned upon the Turk-in-Training's mouth was a tiny, but warm smile, as his aquamarine irises absorbed the neatly written words on the paper, a light, floral aroma wafting from the letter. The familiar scent reminded him of that relaxing rush of happiness, the kind of happiness associated with returning home after a long day. His nerves were set at ease as he read and re-read Aerith's letter, like an addict looking for a hit.

"Heya, Strifey. Got a letter from your girlfriend?" Reno inquired as he approached the wall of mailboxes, teasing Cloud for the lovesick grin smeared across his lips.

"Yes."

"That's her first letter to you, isn't it? In three months? Maybe she's not actually that serious about you."

"We talk over the phone just about every other night. It's hard to find enough material for whole letter when we already keep up with each other," the spiky-haired blond contoured, neatly folding up Aerith's letter, and tucked it into the breast pocket of his black suit. The stuff about Tifa came as a small surprise, but he knew Aerith well enough to know she had wanted to write him a letter just because. "What about you? Got a package?"

"Yeah," Reno retorted, green eyes rolling. "New loafers for all your trainees. Stuff like this is usually secretary work, but I get a tax write-off if I make the order myself."

"Okay." Cloud didn't exactly know what to do with that information, so he nodded dismissively.

"Hi, Cloud. Hi, Reno," greeted Cissnei, another one of the more experienced Turks, utilizing a more mechanical tone. "Got a second?"

"Sure. I'm about to go out for lunch. Want to join me?" the fourteen year-old asked, silently hoping she would decline. It wasn't as though Cloud disliked Cissnei, but she was harder to spend extended time around. The redhead was reserved – some would better describe her as cold – and her company made him feel inadequate. Very much so.

"Yeah, thanks," she accepted, nonchalantly fixed her hair.

Nodding, Cloud quickly put his attention back on Reno, who was trying to yank the stuck, stubborn package from the letterbox. "You comin', too?"

"Thanks," Reno started, speaking between his insistent struggles, "but I don't want to get your country-boy, newbie smell all over my suit. I just got it back from the cleaners."

The Turk's answer was met with two, wooden expressions. Cissnei and Cloud then exchanged cool glances, traded secret smirks, and nodded at one another. Finally, the long, wide package of shoes was freed from its captivity; Reno breathed a long sigh of relief, wheezing from exertion. Alas, when Cloud and Cissnei walked by, the former heaved the parcel off the ground with one arm while using the other to keep his superior back and stuffed it back into the mailbox. Next, Cissnei launched her fists as hard as they would go, punching the delivery even deeper, before slamming the locker closed.

"Hey! What? What the hell? Are you reverse hazing me?" the ginger-haired male shouted, clumsily stumbling over his words, while his brain was slow to comprehend exactly what was happening. "Oh, this means war," he grumbled while the duo of rambunctious underlings high-tailed themselves away from the scene.

Not too long after, Cloud and Cissnei casually strolled along the topside of Midgar, both carrying heart hot dogs that had been purchased from a nearby vendor.

"So, what did you need?" the youthful boy queried, taking his first bite of lunch.

"Hmm? Oh. Oh, yeah." Apparently, she had forgotten that she had requested his presence. "I don't know. It's really humiliating."

Humiliating? Her? He had no idea that such a word existed in her vocabulary. "You?"

Quirking an orange-red brow at his skeptical tone, Cissnei tilted her head to the side at him like a perplexed puppy. "Yeah, me. Why? Is that strange?"

"I didn't think anything could embarrass you. You're always so calm, like stone. Really cool," the Nibelheim native elucidated, pondering how their conversation had already gone off the rails.

Lifting a gloved hand, Cissnei concealed a minute laugh escaping her body. "Wait, hold on. You think I'm cool?"

"Well, yeah."

"I think you're cool. That's why I wanted to talk to you and pick your brain about something."

Blink. Blink. Blink. "Sure...?"

"Okay, here goes nothing..." A long, drawn out sigh exited her system as she stepped in front of her current conversation partner. "Do you think of me as a female or as a girl?" she questioned, standing with her feet slightly apart.

Puzzled, Cloud briefly looked at the petite Turk up and down. "I'm not sure I understand what the difference is."

"By looking at me, I like to believe it's easy enough to tell that I was born female. Denotation versus connotation. They mean the same thing, but 'girl' has a more casual, attractive context," she explained. "So, do you think of me as a girl, or-"

"I'm not the right person to consult about this," stated the Turk trainee, his tone short, but sharp. Truth be told, he had never stopped to consider Cissnei in either context – whether he should have thought about her as someone born with XX chromosomes or as an attractive person of the opposite sex. It just wasn't how his brain operated. The only girl to ever grab his attention in a profound or romantic manner was Aerith; but even if that wasn't true, his brain waves were incapable of developing attachment or attraction based purely upon the physical element.

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"No. It's alright. I knew asking might make me look ridiculous."

"I didn't say that."

"Hmm." A strange expression of doubt colored Cissnei's visage pink while millions of thoughts projected through her hazel-brown irises. "I've never given much consideration to how anyone looks at me before or if maybe I'm thought of as intimidating. I am a Turk, after all. My presence is meant to be imposing."

"Where is all this coming from?" Cloud asked. He really shouldn't have made any attempt to get to know Cissnei better; he shouldn't have cared, but the query kind of slipped out before rationalization could kick in.

"Can't say," Cissnei retorted, taking a seat on a sidewalk bench, so she could finally eat some of her food.

Therefore, Cissnei and Cloud consumed their lunches, sitting together on a bench in silence. He had no desire to press her for more information, not when she was blatantly reluctant to divulge more than she already had, and he was also at a loss for what to say. Content to merely speculate on the context clues the redheaded girl had provided, Cloud figured that she was experiencing boy troubles. It wasn't an easy problem for anyone to confess to, let alone for an emotionally stunted Turk. Romance wasn't exactly his area of expertise either, though he sympathized with his colleague's plight.

Chewing on the last bite of his hot dog, Cloud crumpled the aluminum foil wrapped into his palm. "If you can't say, you should just ask the person this would be relevant to."

"Easier said than done," the slightly older teenager admitted dejectedly.

"At least you'll know," the blond advised, standing up. "Knowing's gotta be better than wondering."

"Maybe. Maybe you're right. Thanks, Cloud. I appreciate our little talk," Cissnei retorted, lingering on the bench. She offered the lanky boy a microscopic smile, however grateful.

/ / /

"He really doesn't fit in, does he? He cares too much," Rude stated rather icily, lounging around the Shinra common room. The tall, tan-skinned man was lazily draped over the length of the couch, eyes fixed on the bland ceiling. "Others seem to like him."

"I'll admit that caring is usually a disadvantage to our work," Tseng replied. At the moment, he was capable of lending only thirty percent of his energy to anything Rude was droning on about; the remaining percentage was focused on a chessboard. White and black pieces were scattered across the playing field, with others removed altogether. There was no clear winner just yet, while his opponent had stepped out of the room momentarily, though the thirty year-old man was positive that he could put himself ahead if he could capture the black queen. "For once, however, we can utilize the boy's caring to our sole benefit."

"Our," Rude echoed, his voice resonating with a peculiar apprehension upon the second syllable. No. Perhaps it wasn't apprehension. Guilt, perhaps? Under either circumstance, he was aware that his unquestioned, unquestionable leader meant Shinra Corp's benefit. "You mean because of who he cares for."

"Precisely," Tseng confirmed, contemplating if he should simply rearrange some of the pawns around in order to satisfy his objective. He would need to proceed with caution and complete the task in a swift, yet subtle manner. "Strife is awful at taking orders. Unlike you and I, he has a conscience, an outstanding moral compass from what I've heard. He would be impossible to manage anywhere else. But even you have to acknowledge how eager he is to serve the Turks."

"No. He doesn't care anything about the organization. I doubt he ever pays any mind to the larger scheme," Rude disagreed when he sat up on the sofa. Coolly, he adjusted his shades, so they covered his eyes better. "The only thing he cares about is Aerith, which I guess you'll say is the point."

"They're in love." Emitting a soft, placid chortle, Tseng perched his chin along the bridge of his hands, one resting over the other, as he shifted his competitor's knight around with a rook. "He wants to protect the Ancient. That's been his primary goal from the beginning. Fortunately, we also want to protect her."

"As long as she's in Nibelheim, I don't see what kind of danger she could get mixed up in."

"The world we live in is unpredictable enough. It helps to take as many measures as you can to prioritize our own safety, and the safety of our assets."

"Aerith's safety."

"She is the last of her kind, after all. Our last hope in many ways, and our last avenue for answers." Aerith should have been coveted for those reasons alone, perhaps even worshiped as some sort of goddess, but certain individuals at Shinra used her for other plots. As fate would have it, at the exact moment Tseng glanced up from the chessboard, his ever-calculating retinas discovered Cloud Strife approaching the common room's vending machine for his daily fix of sweet tea. To further establish his point to his more cynical co-worker, he left the long table he'd been sitting at and joined Cloud by the the mechanized drink bank. "Good morning, Cloud. Off to class soon?" Tseng greeted him just as the boy had punched in the code for his beverage.

"Sort of. Got an hour to kill before it starts. Thought I'd grab something to drink and break in the new shoes," the blond man answered, yanking the slightly dented, cold bottle of golden brown liquid from the slot.

Tseng was tempted to pontificate to Cloud how a simple 'yes' or 'no' would have wasted a lot less of his time or breath, but refrained for fear of coming across insensitive. "Right. Well, anyway, I was wondering if you'd been keeping up with your loved ones from Nibelheim lately?"

"Yeah."

"And how are they?"

"Good."

"Good," Tseng repeated, acting as though he was anything but indifferent to his answer. "Good to hear. I read in the newspaper recently that there's been some criminal activity occurring in a few of the smaller towns. Frightening stuff."

"Are the Turks being sent to investigate?" asked Cloud, his intrigue and concern peaked successfully.

"We're looking into the case, but I'm bringing this up to you specifically because of your relationship with Aerith." In an effort to keep the tone of the discussion casual but serious, Tseng wanted to appear as though he was nervous, and therefore started tapping one foot and locked his arms over his chest. "Everyone here is aware that you want to become something of a bodyguard to her, but I wonder if you've paid an inkling to the moments you can't always be with her?"

Nonchalantly drinking some tea, Cloud shrugged and frowned. "Something really bad must have happened in those towns for you to be bringing this up with me."

"Yes. Your powers of observation are astute," Tseng retorted, thinning his lips into a similar grimace. "I'm afraid it's against protocol to discuss the particulars with a trainee, but I would have you aware that we are very dedicated to ensuring Aerith's safety. I wonder if..."

"Yes?" the teenaged trainee pressed, unsuspecting of Tsen's masterful rapaciousness.

Meanwhile, Rude observed the entire scene from the opposite end of the common area. To someone as young and naive as a boy from a far-off, podunk village, Rude and Tseng seemed like titans to him. The epitome of strength, yet always accompanied by airs of prestige and dignity, like SOLDIERs, but more mafia-esque. Tseng knew that was what Cloud thought of them; Rude knew that Tseng intended to weaponize that sort of admiration – use it, mold it. He didn't like it. Didn't agree with it. But he was a Turk and Tseng was his boss. What other choice did he have other than to stand around idly and let it happen?

"I wonder if you might give Aerith a tracking device? To make certain that if something did happen, our organization can immediately come to her rescue," the highly esteemed leader of the Turks deliberated, no longer moving his foot in any meaningful way.

"Give Aerith a tracking device? She values her privacy too much to even be followed around in spirit," responded the Nibelheim native, growing uncomfortable with the topic. "Besides, I've seen her take on three bullies at once. She can look after herself."

"There are far worse dangers in the world to overcome than mere childhood bullies, Cloud. There are all types of malevolent villains who would commit unspeakable deeds to your Aerith," the black-haired gentleman countered, stressing how important the situation was. "We all want to protect Aerith, the same as you. Yes, I know she's quite the headstrong girl, but that's why I'm requesting this task from someone who she wholly trusts. It doesn't have to be anything large. I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something inconspicuous to put on her."

"You want me to plant a tracker on Aerith?" Ah, yes. Now he was beginning to understand. Cloud breathed a deflated sigh and buried his teeth over the inside of his lower lip. "You want me to not even mention a tracker to her. You want me to lie."

"Just give it some thought."

"Sure." With that, Cloud continued upon his merry way with a bottle of tea in hand, determined to let the conversation completely slip his mind. Aerith was completely safe in Nibelheim. That's why she was sent to live there in the first place. And nothing really terrible had ever occurred there anyway. Tseng was a worrywart.

Meanwhile, the worrywart in question resumed his game of chess, making one more move to ensure the black queen's captivity was inevitable by slightly shifting around his own knight.

"You really thinks that's gonna accomplish anything?" Rude queried, twisting the joints of his neck until the tension loudly popped out.

"Oh, I know that cheating isn't the most honorable course of actions, but if it means victory-"

"I meant lying to Cloud."

Funnily enough, that was also what Tseng was talking about. "Time will tell, though I would hardly call what just happened a lie."

A very thin, but very quizzical eyebrow arched high, further up Rude's forehead. He shifted around uncomfortably, deciding to keep his mouth closed for the remainder of his break. He had no desire to learn what else Tseng could have been scheming, nor what other psychological tricks were hitched up his sleeves. Didn't too much care either.

"My apologies for the lengthy wait. I had to check on my latest experiment," Professor Hojo announced, striding back into the common room, a metallic, sharp stench shadowing his person.

"Not at all, Professor. I trust the results suited your intentions?"

"Not quite yet." The corners of his mouth spread as wide as a coat hanger as his gaze fell to the chessboard. Before the skilled biologist could even sit down, he maneuvered his black piece around and then happily took Tseng's white queen hostage.

True, Tseng was flabbergasted by Hojo's abrupt triumph, though he obscured it well with a smirk. "Well-played. Tell me, where did I go wrong?"

"By becoming too focused on capturing my queen, you left your own unprotected and ripe for the steal.," Hojo elaborated smugly, his grin like a clown's. "Better luck next time."

/ / /

"'Dear Aerith,

It's good to know you and everyone else have been doing okay. Training over here is going well. I'm learning that I'm really good with a blade. I'm getting along okay with a handful of the other potential recruits and the higher-ups. I'm actually enjoying my time out here in the city, getting to know new people who've never even heard of Nibelheim. There's just so much out here and so much to do all the time. Noisy, but in a good way.

The only thing making me homesick is you. I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Whenever that is. Tell my mom that I said 'hi'.

Sincerely yours, Cloud.' "

"Wow, Cloud. Your novel is so eloquent," the flower girl teased her best friend in a playful, nasally, posh accent once she finished reading his own letter to him.

"I'm concise and to the point." Giggling beneath her breath, Aerith could practically hear her pen pal's eyes roll in reaction from her sarcasm, his facial expression predictable over the phone.

"I would say it's the thought that counts, but-"

"Anyway, how is your arm doing?" the Turk-to-be inquired, changing the topic to anything but his correspondence.

"I won't be replying to your letter anytime soon," the brunette replied, absentmindedly rolling the spirals of the phone chord around and around her pointer finger. "It's still stiff, but better than yesterday."

"Does it feel better when you ice it or anything?"

"No, not really. I have no choice but to live with the pain until it passes."

"What about the fever and chills?"

"Both have subsided, but I feel like all of my joints and muscles ache. I feel like I got bodyslammed by a double-decker bus." Fortunately, these breeds of pain were ones Aerith had grown somewhat used to over the last few years, whenever Hojo had concocted a blend of chemicals to prevent illness.

Truthfully, the new side effects gave her more cause for concern; she no longer suffered from terrifyingly vivid dreams, or at least they weren't nearly as frequent, but now her head would team with a mixture of sharp rings and white noise, the sounds making her brain pulse rapidly against the walls of her skull. The first time it happened, the Cetra truly thought she was having some sort of mini stroke; the echoing, almost visceral pangs lasted mere seconds, though to Aerith it had felt like a never-ending stretch of time. However, just like a sore arm and some mild, flu-like symptoms, the migraines became more commonplace. When Aerith informed Tseng, he showed no real concern and she trusted his judgment.

"Not to worry, I'll survive," Aerith concluded in reassurance.

"Good. I have some vacation time coming up. Sooner or later, I'll want to see you again," said Cloud. He was so matter-of-fact about his announcement, despite trying to be sweet.

Aerith smiled and shook her head, charmed by his naturally awkward demeanor. "It's about time. What has it been? A year?"

"Five months."

"It feels like it's been way longer."

"Aerith!" Elmyra shouted her daughter's name from downstairs. "Tifa's here!"

"Oops. Sorry, Cloud. I gotta get going," Aerith confessed hastily, wincing from the guilt of forgetting she had promised Tifa they'd check out the exported goods from Midgar.

"No problem. Call me whenever you're free."

"Aren't you sick of me yet?"

"About as much as you're sick of me."

God help her heart, she loved him so much. "Talk to you later, Cloud."

"Talk to you later, Aerith," he chuckled.

The almost-sixteen-year-old's ear lingered near the phone's speaker, mesmerized by how she could hear the wry smirk in her boyfriend's voice, until all that remained on his end was dial tone.

"Aerith, baby, did you hear me?" Elmyra yelled again.

"On my way down!"

Afterward, the duo of young girls spent their afternoon visiting a local shopping store, rummaging through the fancier options available. The shopping trip was meant to serve as a celebrations for the various accomplishments Tifa had recently gone through – from being a quick and talented study under Master Zangan's tutelage to winning Nibelheim's annual baking competition with her late mother's jalapeno cornbread – and Aerith's upcoming sixteenth birthday. The girls had a ball trying on a multitude of clothing, swatching wild and unique cosmetics on their arms, and scarfing down a box of pretzel nuggets in-between elaborate, stylish attires. However, when Tifa made the offer to purchase anything for her best friend as an early birthday present, Aerith would kindly turn down the gesture and insisted on buying whatever items Tifa had her heart set on. No matter how insistent either girl was, not a lot was purchased that day, though Tifa at least made sure to obtain some nice, semi-formal dresses for future job interviews.

Not long after the shopping trip, the pair of female companions decided to take rest at the park; it was late enough in the day that only a handful of younger children were testing out the playground's new equipment, while one of the maintenance men lingered to carefully observe how the equipment performed. Quite hungry from the day's adventures, the mage and the monk sat at one of the picnic tables, savoring the sandwich snack's Aerith had packed for both of them to share.

"God, your mom makes the best turkey subs," Tifa remarked, showing little restraint against the food in her hands – ripping into the assortment of meat and toppings like a jungle cat.

"Mm-hmm!" Aerith nodded in elated agreement, though her attention was more focused on the barbecue-flavored potato chips. Swallowing the morsels down her gullet, she said, "It's the vinegar she uses. She makes it all by herself."

"Cool. I have to get Missus Gainsborough to teach me someday," the noirette replied, taking a moment to breathe and get her chewed food down. "So, how is your arm feeling?"

"Improved. Moving it around at the shop must've helped with the blood flow. Swelling's gone down some," the chipper miss answered. To demonstrate her arm's progressed health, she spread it all the way out like a wing and made large circles. All of four seconds later, she hissed in pain.

"Hey, take it easy. You don't have to push yourself on my account," Tifa cautioned, assisting her favorite friend by gently resting her arm back on the table. "And just so you know, we could have taken a rain check on today. I would have understood."

"No! I wanted to hang out with you and do stuff," Aerith replied; the volume of her voice passionately increased, as though she sensed that Tifa meant to insinuate that she, herself, was a burden. "I love our girls' days out. I never got to do that stuff before."

"Same here. Guys aren't super into fashion and style. Lucky me, I had three of them to hang out with and a dad who's too nervous to even say 'bra' to me," Tifa lightheartedly griped, though mostly in a tone of humor.

"I'm sure the ladies around town were helpful."

"Oh, of course! It's just not really the same." More than anything, Tifa didn't want to come across as unappreciative of all the maternal energy she'd been granted by the kind mothers of Nibelheim over the years; they'd always been gracious and patient, even more so when womanhood drew ever-closer. Still, the town beauty could imagine that femininely maturation would have been more comfortable with a female presence that was more constant or more comfortable. Like her actual mother, or a best friend. "I wish we'd been friends sooner."

The town's magnanimous healer nodded and smiled sympathetically. "What matters if that we're friends now."

Based on the Aerith's tone – how she sounded almost uninterested of Tifa's original statement – the younger teenager grew paranoid that she might have said the wrong thing, until she saw the way her friend's eyes darted away every couple of seconds, distracted by something. "Aerith?"

"Yeah...?"

"What is it? What's up?"

"I..." In truth, the half-Cetra couldn't quite put her finger on what was bothering her or why. But who? That was a different story. "That man."

Much like a confused canine, Tifa tilted her head off to the side, and then curiously tossed a look over her shoulder. "The guy who fixed up the playground? What about him?"

"He's been staring at those small kids for awhile, and well, just look at him! It's seventy-five degrees outside and he's sweating bullets!" Aerith thought the out-of-towner appeared frightened. His tan complexion had gone paler than a sheet of snow. She couldn't exactly tell from her vantage point, but she could have sworn that he was shaking. It was as if those handful of school children were nothing but headlights and he was a deer caught in their path, too terrified to act or flee.

"He's been outside all day," the monk-in-training rationalized, casually enjoying another bite of her sandwich. "His clothes are a lot heavier, too. Come on."

A small, but relaxed chuckle emanated from the brunette's vocal chords at the exaggerated manner in which Tifa rolled her cherry cordial eyes. "You're right. I'm just being silly... Anyhow, what were we talking about?" Internally, Aerith promised herself that she would check on the playground tech if he was still around when the girls finished their picnic. Until then, she was content to bury her concern in the farthest reaches of her mind and savor this time with Tifa.

"Boys, shopping, food, you know, the usual."

"Right. Well, you know I'm always down to do it all over again," replied the plantsgirl, flashing her best friend an easygoing smile.

"I still can't believe you didn't get a single thing while we were out. I would have gladly bought you something!" Tifa playfully whined, using a satirically exasperated tone. "How can you have that much self-control when everything looks good on you?"

"Nuh-uh," the brunette retorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't get me wrong. I know I look cute, but don't you think some of those clothes looked way too flashy?"

"I think you mean fabulous," the thirteen year-old girl commented, flipping her long cascades of pure black hair over her shoulder. "It makes me hope that I'll actually get to shop in Midgar one day, or somewhere that isn't Nibelheim."

"Oh?" That remark piqued Aerith's interest, since she'd always known Tifa to adore her hometown. "I didn't know you ever wanted to leave."

"Yeah. Guess I forgot that I'm not supposed to say that part out loud."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone wants to leave Nibelheim, but everyone keeps it a secret for some reason. If you say it out loud or within ear-reach, people get all weird and judgmental about it," Tifa deliberated, alternating between chatting and snacking on some chips. "They treat any woman who wants to travel pretty poorly, like it's considered some insult to the town."

"That's really dumb," Aerith verbally observed, though she was already aware of the fact. "I've talked about with Claudia numerous times – her experiences when she was younger, how she wanted to leave a hundred times," and what stopped her.

To this day, Claudia Strife never gave up hope that her true love, Zephyr, would come back someday – that she needed to stay in Nibelheim so he'd know exactly where she was. She'd told that Elmyra once during one of their baking sprees, a few days after Cloud's migrated to Midgar, when both women were under the impression Aerith was fast asleep on the living room couch. Elmyra and Claudia had been trading stories about their respective husbands, what their lives became without them, and what their lives would have become with them. Of course, Elmyra was downright certain that Clay Gainsborough would have spoiled Aerith with gifts and treats; he had always wanted children, but he desired a daughter most of all. Although he probably would have been content with sons, something about boys being messy and competitive made them less appealing as an idea. Clay and Elmyra had intended to have children one day, after the war ended, but... And Zephyr would have been overjoyed at the kind, mature man Cloud had grown into.

"Why are the women here expected to want to stay when they make this village so stuffy?" Aerith continued, making herself more offended.

"I think they're all too afraid to admit that Nibelheim isn't perfect," Tifa suggested, pursing her lips in thought. "Too proud to acknowledge or sympathize with any woman who has real dreams of being more than a mother and a wife."

"Because their dreams were crushed by the generations of women before them," Aerith concluded, nodding in understanding of the unchallenged, ignored cycle of apathy and resentment. "That's really sad. Does your dad know that you want to leave someday?"

Before Tifa could open her mouth to answer, both girls abruptly had their attentions snatched when the park attraction constructor charged at the giggling, playing children. Completely out of the blue, he began to topple the playground equipment over and kick toys out of his path, as an erratic, unreadable expression seized his otherwise plain, generic face. The kids shared a delayed reaction – laughing as the stranger stomped forward like a grizzly bear, believing that he only wished to partake in their playtime. But it soon became clear, that when their mothers started to scream for them to run away, that the situation was far more dire.

But they were kids. Small kids. The oldest of them was only five. Their instincts and center of gravity were underdeveloped. Thus, the adult man was equal to the task of catching one.

"Nelda!" frantically cried out Missus Hamilton, springing clear across the playground to rescue her daughter. "Release my child, you thug!"

"If you make one more step toward me, her skull turns into dust right between my hands," the stranger threatened, tenaciously gripping at the toddler-aged girl.

"Mommy!" the little girl sobbed, struggling to escape.

The poor woman crumbled to her knees while the rest of the children fled to their own mothers, who were only able to watch in horror.

"Evacuate the women and their children. Make sure to get them all home safely and tell them to lock their doors," the last Cetra commanded her friend in a firm tone. "I'll stay behind."

"What? No! I should stay!" Tifa rationalized just as firmly, though her trembling hands betrayed her resolve. "I'm the one who can fight him!"

Maybe she was being naive or maybe she was just an eternal optimist, but Aerith was certain that the confrontation needn't escalate to a fight. "Tifa, please, go. Trust me. I got this."

An expression of utter reluctance and dread contoured it was across Tifa's visage, pleading with Aerith to leave instead. Yet the hard determination hardening like cold steel in Aerith's jade gaze eventually persuaded her. Tifa nodded and did as Aerith instructed, urging the Nibelheim mothers to follow her away from the playground.

"Stop!" Aerith yelled, slowly approaching the strange man as he continued to hold a child captive. She knelt down upon one knee to support the tremoring older woman. "Please, Sir. Stop this madness. You don't have to do this." She could tell that he didn't want to by his stance – the way his legs stood wide apart, with his feet facing inward at each other.

"You..." the man seethed, the wild and wiry look in his brown eyes felt accusatory. "You shouldn't be here!"

"Neither should you," Aerith retorted, attempting to stay calm underneath the ice of his glower. "Let her go. She's just a little girl. You don't want to hurt her."

"Please, please, please," the slightly older lady desperately begged underneath her breath, rocking back and forth.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of!" the stranger shouted in return, using a free hand to produce a medium-sized knife out of his pocket. A steak knife, it seemed, a peculiar decision. "Don't test me!"

"I don't understand. What are you getting out of this? What do you want?" she inquired, trying to neglect the agonizing pulsing of her sore arm. Discreetly, the magic wielder clenched her teeth behind her thinned out lips and dared to approach the tall, brown-haired male. "We can work something out, I'm sure. Is it money? Food maybe?"

"I'm not a waste!" the flannel-clad male snapped, demonstrating the gravity of his ire by gliding the knife across the young girl's cheek.

"No! Ow! Mommy!" Nelda wept, making the wound more precarious by attempting to run away.

"Hold still!" he ordered. His grip on the knife wasn't confident enough; at most, he had left a long scratch on Nelda, where it stung, but didn't bleed. He truly no desire to harm her.

"You don't have to be scared," Aerith stated in reassurance.

A flurry of emotions blew along the canvas of his face before shoving Nelda toward the gravel. "Go! Get out of here before I change my mind!"

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"Oh, baby!"

The recently reunited mother and daughter pair spared concerned glances in the flower girl's direction, the former pondering if she should do something that would have been more helpful. However, Aerith simply gave them a hard nod, signaling for them to escape while they could. Neither one needed to have the instruction repeated, and fled from Nibelheim Park. Hopefully, there would be more times for thank you's later. Nelda was free to go home and that was the most important thing.

"Thank you. You did the right thing." Before Aerith could let out a full sigh of relief, the playground technician started swiping at her with his weapon, prompting her to dodge out of the way over and over again. "H-H-Hey!"

"It's nothing personal," he murmured, almost apologetically.

Truly, she had wanted to solve the issue peacefully, but now that he was attacking her in earnest, self-defense was her only option. A long, steel rod materialized from the mage girl's gripped hands, it's hard metal being utilized to repeatedly block attacks. In the heat of the actual, real-time battle, Aerith tried to recall the spells she'd mastered over the last, few years – any one of them would have subdued the enemy – but her brain was too panicked, her body was too motivated by instinct, there was barely any space left in her head to strategize. Come on, come on! Aerith chanted to herself. Yes, wind! Aero! If she could just knock him back long enough... She required no longer than a second... She just needed to lift her staff into position and-

"Ahhgh!" The all-too familiar sensation of static seized at the core of her head, rattling her brain against the brittle confines of her skull – as though it was about to explode. The sharp, wasp-like sting caused her to go temporarily blind, or perhaps negligent, to whatever else existed around her; the horrible ringing burrowed its way into the depths of her eardrums, threatening to burst both of them wide open. It was like she was caught in the middle of color storm, where a nauseating haste of cold-hued colors funneled behind her vision.

Fortunately, the pain ceased in no time, but it was too late. When the final descendant of the Ancients could finally register the world again, she saw a hand steadfastly gripped around the handle of a knife – 'Jasmine- was tattooed along the outside curviture between his index finger and thumb, while the knife itself was buried between the flesh and bone of her abdomen. "I- You- Am I-" A million thoughts teemed at the top of Aerith's mind, though her tongue tripped over each and every one. Stabbed. She'd actually been stabbed. Yet, the shock outweighed any pain. "How could-" Her voice trembled meekly, the sound similar to a squeaking mouse, as she forcefully removed the man's hand from her stomach, along with the blade. "Oh..."

"Sh, sh, sh. You're gonna be fine. Just fine," the stranger promised in an effort to sooth her, as she collapsed forward into his embrace. "Go to sleep now, Aerith."

"I-I-I," she stuttered in perplexity, clinging to consciousness with ever fiber of her being. Aerith was sure that if she let go of her grasp on wakefulness, she would never come back. God, she wasn't even sixteen yet. There was so much life left for her to experience. So much she wanted to do, so much she wanted to see. What about Cloud's upcoming vacation days? What about getting married someday and having children? What about touring the world and getting out of Nibelheim? No, no, no, no! This wasn't how she wanted to die! Not in the arms of someone whose name she didn't even know! This was wrong! This was all wrong!

Yet, much to her despair, sleep came.

Incomprehensible orbs of pale yellow faded in and out of sight the next time Aerith opened her eyes. Perhaps somewhere in between the confusion of waking up and the tremendous amount of blood loss, she struggled to comprehend the large, heavy mass of gold sitting in her lap. For what felt like a thousand years, all Aerith could think to do was stare at the blurry object. With each passing millisecond, her vision became clearer and clearer; the hay-colored, circular lights straightened out into long stocks... No, spikes! That's right, spikes of hair! Relaxation streamed through every blood vessel in her body, resonating through her sigh when she realized at least a fragment of what was going on.

"Cloud," Aerith murmured happily, "you came for me."

Hastily, the blond man picked his head off Aerith's lap, mouth slightly ajar to emit a quiet, but alert gasp. At first, his handsome visage was clarified in surprise, as if she'd snuck up on him. Then, the shock faded, replaced by a softer expression – something between relief and love – as the corners of his mouth gradually curled into a subtle smile. "Did you have reason to doubt I wouldn't?"

From side-to-side, Aerith shook her head. "Never." Her cold fingers raked throughout his supple, soft roots of flaxen hair, instinctively comforting him. Radiantly, she beamed at Cloud – her fair skin aglow beneath the harsh, fluorescent light of the hospital room – just glad to see him again.

"Oh, Aerith." Cloud stood up from the unfriendly wooden chair he'd been sitting in and pressed a whisper of a kiss against her forehead. "I was gonna wait to give you this for your birthday, but seeing as that passed..." Fishing out a velvet, square jewelry box from his pants pocket, Cloud held it out for Aerith to grasp, yet to realize that she wasn't fully clued in to what was going on.

Why was she hooked up to a bunch of monitors and an IV? Why was Cloud here? Where was she? Her birthday had passed? Why didn't she have any memory of it? His gift...

Automatically, while her brain to tried to play catch-up, Aerith's digits carefully opened the box. All logic and reason exited, cast out by pure joy. "A locket! Cloud, you got me a locket!"

Author's Note: In case it isn't obvious, I do not know how to play chess. I just wanted to set up a metaphor that's foreshadowing a plot element that'll probably become more and more obvious as time goes on. Also, I'm guilty of using some light retcons to, uh, build an actual narrative, so bear with me! Hopefully, it was enjoyable enough! I came within inches of ending the chapter at Aerith being wounded, but I needed to include her receiving the locket to book-end the entire point of the chapter!