Chapter 4. 1992
Train doors closed behind her, and Ifalna breathed. The murmured noise of the crowd, the clang of the train, swallowed her whole, hiding in plain sight, and as the train pulled away from the station, her heart dared to hope she might make it out yet.
Away.
Aerith clung to her skirts, lip quivering but strangely not in fear. Her wide-eyed gaze took in the sights around her, the girl as always unafraid, embracing the chaos of the scene as if it was something she saw every day. In her hands was the white materia Ifalna had squeezed into her small palms
Her daughter was growing every day more wild, more free, as much as was allowed in the confines of the lab. Every day they stayed was a day that there was a little more danger, closer to the day when Hojo when try to infect the girl with the same poison that he had given Ifalna, the poison that would never let her get away.
The withdrawal was already beginning. The concentrated Mako shots that she had been made to depend left her with only this lucky few-hour-window to escape. Ifalna knew full well she was not going to make it; she had known that from the day Hojo killed her love and took her away from the family she'd hoped to have, all because of a bloodline she could not help. Heritage that made her valuable for reasons she could never hope to change – a connection to the Planet that they could not, would not understand, would never be theirs.
Because the Planet would not allow itself to be used that way.
Tseng had become a standing presence in their lives since he had been assigned to them months before. Aerith had taken to him like the bubbly child she was, but Ifalna remained reticent, suspicious. As pleasant as the young man might be on the surface, there was the dark velvet lining of the interior underneath.
She was racing against time, precious minutes dragging by until her need for the drug consumed her, sending her into endless sleep. At least she would have the satisfaction of denying ShinRa their access to the Promised Land a little longer. Aerith was yet too young to be of use to ShinRa, and for that she was grateful.
The building had been bustling, only sparse rumors reaching Ifalna's confined ears. As grateful as she was that the visits to the lab had recently diminished, she still feared action, any action on the part of ShinRa, and the consequences it might incur.
Stomach pains cramped her forward, Ifalna doubled up with tears streaming from her eyes, swallowing a cry that would only bring unwanted attention. The train tunnel was dark enough; she hoped no one could see. "Mother," Aerith looked up at her with Gast's green eyes, "What is it?"
Tseng breezed through her doorway, all stoic Turk blankface. Ifalna's eyes asked the question she knew he had already come to answer. "They're mobilizing," he told her. "Finally making the big push into Wutai. The building is chaos."
"The Planet," was all Ifalna could force out; truthfully, it was all she could explain .The Cetra connection being severed without the Mako needed to maintain it, the Planet reaching out for one of its own, its cries of pain echoing Ifalna's own inside.
"They've done this before," replied Ifalna, but Tseng rattled on. "This is much bigger. They're sending out most of their strength."
He took her by the shoulders. "They're sending… Sephiroth." One hand slid to hers and pressed something into her palm. Ifalna looked down to see a keycard. One with the highest level of clearance, one that could get her anywhere in the building unchallenged. Downstairs. OUTSIDE.
She didn't need Tseng's subtle glance to tell her. This was her chance.
She couldn't explain it all to Aerith; she couldn't bring herself to explain the fate she wanted her daughter to avoid, the fate that had become hers by force. Nausea wrenched her, vomit threatening to come up, but Ifalna held strong. Just a little longer…
"Why are you doing this?" she couldn't help but ask. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer. "I am a Turk. I obey my orders… but how I interpret them is up to me." He punctuated his statement with a curt nod, and that was the last before he turned and walked away.
The darkness of the plate covered the train as it descended below, and Ifalna allowed herself a smidgen of relief as the upper part of Midgar disappeared from view. Good riddance. She never thought she'd hope for her child to grow up without the sky, but down here, in the slums, as deep as Ifalna could scurry into, Aerith would be safe – concealed by the crowds to which ShinRa gave no mind. As a slum dweller, a nobody, she would have a chance; as a Cetra, she was doomed.
Ifalna huddled on the seat, pulling Aerith close. Passengers arrived, departed, faces changing but none paying any more attention than the other. She was weakening, and Ifalna wondered home much time it was to the end of the line. Sector Seven's train graveyard, deep within the slums, the farthest Ifalna could hope to go.
All she could do was cradle close her child; using her powers to block the sense of wrongness around them, refusing to taint the last time she would have with her daughter. Success. Aerith only looked around curiously, her trusting nature showing no fear.
At long last the speaker announced the Sector Seven arrival. 8:37 am. Final stop. All passengers must disembark. Sector Seven, train graveyard. The remains of the crowd dispersed, and Ifalna grabbed Aerith by the hand, pulling herself up and out. Away…
Outside, couples, families, those separated by wartime reunited for the short length of a leave, as ShinRa's drones spilled onto the train behind her, Ahead of her the slums, Sector Seven, an uncertain kind of safety…
The world spun, and Ifalna tumbled forward. Aerith's screams were heard only dimly, as if through water. The ground rose to meet her.
She vomited then, mako-tainted bile burning her throat. She didn't know what Hojo had put in the serum besides Mako, but she could feel it tearing through her insides, weakening the cells from within. She tumbled forward, and felt her arm bone crash against the pavement with a resounding crack, and even with the searing pain that followed, Ifalna refused to cry out, scared to draw any attention she did not want. Weakly, she tried to hush Aerith's agitated words, but she could no longer hide from the girl that something was terribly wrong.
And then she felt arms gently around her. Ifalna fought at first, thinking it was a guard – or worse, a SOLDIER – who had found her, but it was a woman's soothing voice that spoke to her .The words indistinct at first, she only noting tones of concern, but slowly language came to her.
"…call someone…" the woman's voice was telling Aerith.
"No," Ifalna gasped out. She grabbed the woman's hand with her good one, looking up into a kind face, a woman perhaps five, seven years older. "Please…"
"You're hurt," the woman told her gently. "We've got to get you some help." Behind her, Aerith could only repeat, over and over, "mothermothermothermother…"
"There is no help," Ifalna told her, wincing with the pressure of breath on sore ribs. Probably one or two of those broken as well. "We need… trying to get away…"
The woman seemed to understand. "Of course. The war." The war, Ifalna thought. That would seem the obvious assumption. This sort of thing was so common nowadays - those fleeing, refugees, injured and poor, no place to go and nowhere they came from - Wutai, Midgar, it was all the same, when you no longer had a home.
"You see..." Ifalna propped herself up. "Please… one woman to another…" She let herself take in the woman's face - not beautiful, but neither was she plain. Open. Kind. A face to trust. She's lost someone too. She knows.
Aerith pushed her way in between, the woman sliding slightly aside. "I see," she said, two words of obvious reluctance and finality. "Here… your daughter…" She gently pushed Aerith in front of her, and the child leaned over her mother. Strangely enough, there were no tears on her face.
"Sweetheart… Aerith… it's time for me to go back to the Lifestream." Aerith nodded gravely, knowing full well the truths of life her mother had passed down. We'll see each other again there someday.
And for that, Aerith showed no grief.
Ifalna's vision narrowed. In the distance, light, souls calling to her. She would miss her daughter dearly, but she was not afraid. "Please… take Aerith somewhere safe…" And with those few words, Ifalna let the Planet take her.
Elmyra stood, one arm wrapped protectively around the girl – Aerith, she told herself – sorrow filling her. The child only seemed grave, and Elmyra stood there for long minutes, wondering what to make of it all and what could be done with this woman's body. Aerith seemed to hear her thoughts. "Wait," the girl told her solemnly. "Watch."
Elmyra DID, and slowly a light began to shine from the woman's body, growing vibrant if never bright, and she gasped in surprise as the body broke away into slivers of blue and green, sparks fading in a wink. And the woman was gone.
Elmyra had never learned her name.
Aerith did cry then, not bawling, but gentle sobs, the sort that had a splashed of pained joy in them. Elmyra took her in a hug.
Shouts were heard from the other end of the platform. Aerith buried her head in Elmyra's skirts, and Elmyra saw the guards then, armed grunts of ShinRa, mindless followers of orders. They seemed to be stopping each person, searching for someone, starting with those nearest the train.
Elmyra instinctively shrunk into the shadows.
"We have to get away," Aerith told her. "Mother said so." Elmyra nodded, urgency infecting her as well.
"We'll go to my house," she told Aerith. "You can stay with me. Would you like that?" The girl nodded. "Sector Five. It takes a little while to get there, but we'll get there as fast as we can, OK? Just follow my lead." Elmyra took her by the hand, placing her own body between Aerith and the view of the soldiers. She doubted they could escape ShinRa forever, but for now, this was the best they could do. She walked firmly, striding forward with more confidence than she felt, and Aerith held close to her side.
Slowly, the commotion from the station faded from hearing, as Elmyra turned down warrens of haphazard streets that she knew from years of experience. Soon, she and Aerith were swallowed by the ruckus and the squalor of the endless slums.