Chapter 19. October εуλ0002-εуλ0006

"I'll come see you, I promise."

Those had been his last words to her.

She wished she had thought to ask him when…

Days turned into weeks, then months, and there was no word. Despair set in… could he really have abandoned her just like that?

Especially since…

But she had never told him, had she?

He was a couple months missing gone when she started to feel movement, a kick from the life inside her, and somehow, irrationally, it made her certain her was alive somewhere as well.

Tseng was watching her more than ever. She didn't entirely know if that was a good or a bad sign. It was only rarely she saw another Turk; a time or two, she thought she caught a glimpse of Cissnei, but she couldn't remember when she'd last spied any others. Perhaps they were the only ones that knew her condition? Was Tseng keeping it a secret from Shinra as well? Why would he do such a thing? Was it for her, or some reasons of his own?

Whatever his reasons, she was grateful. She certainly hoped that was the case, but she was too afraid to ask. He was closed-mouthed with her in general nowadays, chit-chat dropping into stony silence and that endlessly unreadable Turk expression. In its own way, she found that encouraging. As long as she heard no bad news, she could keep hope - perhaps they had Zack away on some top secret assignment, something Tseng was not permitted to tell her about. Except for when the man's façade slipped, and she saw a tightening of pain when she mentioned Zack's name…

Would he have found a way to stay if he had known? Refused his assignment? He was allowed to, but it risked Shinra's wrath and his hard-earned place. He'd hinted at ways to spend more time together, at one point even suggesting she could live with him above the plate, in a place where they could see the sky every day. And when he'd said that, her heart sank – she'd never told him that she'd lived above the plate before, or the conditions under which that had happened. With that bright-eyed expression on his face, she couldn't bring herself to tell him she'd rather get as far away from Midgar as possible before she lived above again.

She only wanted to tell him about the happy parts of her life, preferring to keep those the memories that integrated him. Hadn't told him what Shinra wanted with her and why. She'd never even told him Elmyra was not her real mother. So many secrets she had kept from him out of fear – but now she wondered. Had she been so scared of finding happiness with him? Her handsome SOLDIER, her hopeful buffer against Shinra and their plans. If he couldn't do it – no one could. And without him… she didn't think there was any place on Gaia she could truly hide.

And while these thoughts filled her head, her stomach grew, placidly creating that bit of her and Zack together, preparing to bring it into the world.

"Why did you do it?" Elmyra asked.

Aerith knew what her mother was asking. She'd certainly had a choice; she'd been prepared with the same Materia every other girl in Midgar had. There was no pretending she hadn't intended it.

"I willed it to happen." Aerith rubbed her belly, the bump, at four months, just barely starting to show. "The Planet told me to, Mom," she explained.

So many times, she'd wondered since if she had heard wrong.

Elmyra still didn't know what to think – Aerith was ever the child of her heart, without ever giving birth, was she really a true mother? How could she help a daughter know what to feel? Yet… she couldn't argue with Aerith's strange powers, the words the Planet spoke to her. Why would the Planet do such a thing to her?

"The baby won't ever be safe, now that Zack's gone," Aerith echoed her mother's thoughts. No certainty what kind of a shield might have been, but he was definitely something. Without him, Aerith was more desirable, more endangered, than ever; she was surprised the Turks hadn't come for her yet.

And now, Aerith's love had disappeared without a trace… Elmyra couldn't believe Zack would deliberately hurt her, but whatever his intentions, it didn't stop Aerith's muffled sobs heard late into at night, the cheer of her aura dimmed. No matter what Aerith said, Elmyra wanted to put the blame on Zack. He had given her kisses and promises; where was he when it was time to stand by his duty?

"What do you want to do?" she asked her daughter.

Aerith remembered back to a day at a train station, her mother handing her to a stranger, trusting that her daughter would be safe… She reached to her braid to feel, force of habit, for the materia nestled there. There was so much she didn't remember about her life before then, but – and she'd never told Elmyra this – she remembered that day perfectly… and the choice her mother had made, the risk she had taken with her last breaths.

She let out a deep breath of regret, poignancy. "I don't have any choice," she said, subdued. "I'm going to have to give the baby away."

Elmyra looked at her daughter, hearts breaking in tandem. There was no consolation to be given. She knew Aerith was right. She had been able to keep Aerith safe all these years only through the grace of Tseng, who wanted her to come willingly. With a baby… there was no way Shinra would let that chance snap away.

All her regrets about Zack being in SOLDIER. Trading a normal life for power, they do. You can't have it both ways. Tearing away Aerith's semblance of normalcy in the process. But life in the slums taught you, you did what had to be done…

She asked around, discreetly, perhaps less so as Aerith's pregnancy became more obvious; the rumor traveled through the slums, the neighbors more than willing to help one of their own survive, prosper. They never asked why Aerith's baby was in danger; it was understood that business was her own. No one inquired to closely when someone had problems with Shinra, their universal, unspoken enemy with feelers everywhere. Shinra usually meant something that was dangerous to know.

Finally, word came to her, of a woman, marriage as childless as Elmyra's had been, here in town with a delegation. Elmyra carefully gathered information, impressions, finally arranging a meeting. She spoke with the woman, made her judgments, but in the end it was for Aerith to decide.

Aerith, morose, accepted her mother's idea whole. "How far away does she live?" was the only real question she asked.

Elmyra told her.

"That seems far enough," Aerith replied.

Kunsel was nearly on top of her, she so absorbed in the flowers that she didn't even notice.

"Hi," he said, and she jumped.

He'd had his suspicions, but he needed to be sure. And here was the evidence. That blossoming glow of a mother-to-be, over a six-month stomach.

Zack's child, Kunsel thought with a barbed sting. Zack, dammit, where are you?"

"Kunsel," she said, demure. "You… startled me."

There was a sorrow in her eyes that wasn't there before. Kunsel knew what it meant. It was the sort of grief that when life gives it to you, no matter what, you were never the same. It was the sadness of having loved, a sweet pain worth the scars.

"I haven't heard from him,' he answered the question that stood there, awaiting him. "Aerith, I tried to find out. I haven't found out anything. There's a killed-in-action notice for Zack and Sephiroth, did you know that?"

"I don't believe that for a second," Aerith said.

"Neither do I," Kunsel replied.

Neither of them were strangers to the ways of Shinra. Kunsel had only been able to figure out the barest sketch of why Shinra wanted Aerith, but even going as far as to find out it involved Hojo was enough to sicken him and make him not want to find out more. He'd been able to hack into some of the files about Ifalna, and that was enough. There were things in there Aerith should never know.

No wonder Aerith was frightened.

"What are you going to do about…" He motioned.

She told him.

Kunsel's heart went out for her. He was slated to move up to First Class very soon, but he was still no Zack Fair. If he were in any sort of position to protect her… For Zack's sake, he would. Until the mystery could be solved and they could all be reunited once again. But he had no illusions; he didn't have that kind of power.

He looked over. "Your wagon's still broken," he observed. "I know you wanted to wait for Zack, but... Do you want me to try and fix it instead?" A small thing, but maybe something he could do for her.

Aerith looked at the wagon, its poor wheel bent and misshapen. Why had she ever thought the wagon wasn't cute enough? It was perfect in every way. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to use it. "I… I think I'm going to just try using a basket. Start off small, you know. A little at a time." She paused. "Because, now, I have to do it alone."

Kunsel could only nod, reluctant understanding. "Hey, Aerith, you still have my PHS number, right?" She nodded. "Promise me you'll call. If you need anything. Anything it all, okay?"

Kunsel, Aerith thought. Such a good friend to Zack. Him and… that other guy… had Zack ever mentioned his name? Some trooper he hung out with a lot. Zack's closest friends. She wished him goodbye with a lump in her throat. When she was losing so much in her life, anyone who was a stable presence – even Tseng - was welcome.

Zack, where are you?

The pangs started early in the morning, April first.

Elmyra was woken by her daughter's loud sobs, she running to her room, already knowing. Aerith was clutching her belly, face contorted. "Mom," she sobbed, "it's starting."

She's not ready, Elmyra thought, frightened. Then again, who could ever be? Anyway, it wasn't like Aerith had a choice in the matter now; they just had to do what was needed. They'd agreed. They had to do this at home; the less people who knew, the better. But fortunately, there was no better person than her mother to help her through this; she'd delivered most of the babies in the neighborhood. Never, though, with as much fear and anticipation as she approached this one, the miracle of another life entering the world that would be her grandchild, bonds of love if not flesh following through the ether, wherever the child might go.

Elmyra started water boiling on the stove, gathered the supplies she needed. They'd had them set out for weeks now, just in case. She ran warm water into the tub, for Aerith to sink into, except when she wanted to get up around. She'd already coached her daughter to listen to her body, act with her instincts, a woman's own body leading her through something that had happened so many times through the eons, but never lost its magic.

She wished she had some materia to help kill the pain. At least she had her old remedies, potions homebrewed preferred over those on the market, to help her through the worst. She barely trusted commercial preparations from Shinra in the first place; ever less when there was a baby involved, not when it carried Aerith's mysterious heritage.

When she came back to the bedroom, Aerith had undone her hair, holding her mother's materia in her doubled hands. The mother-of-pearl finish seemed to shimmer in response. Reminiscence grabbing her, Elmyra wondered about that woman at the train station, Aerith's real mother. Could she see them from the Lifestream? How she must wish she could be with her daughter now. Elmyra felt she owed it to that poor deceased lady to take the role of them both.

Even after the pain went down, Aerith couldn't help but cry; and Elmyra knew it was not physical pain that was hurting her so. But all the same, her young body strained, pushing, fighting for something it wasn't entirely prepared for. Hours dragged on, the birth taking the time it needed as Aerith finally succumbed, vulnerable, to the mercy of nature and the Lifestream.

The clock had long since struck midnight when Aerith cried out with one final push, and it was followed by a baby's wailing cry in echo. Aerith, smiling through the tears, reached for it, love brimming in her eyes. Elmyra cut the cord, placed the baby in her daughter's arms, for the only minutes her daughter and grandchild would share.

Aerith marveled at the tiny hands, the delicate features, hair too sparse to tell the color for sure. "You are a child of love," she murmured gently, echoing her natural mother's words, so long ago. Regrets, longing, but nothing to be done but take the pain, allow it to become part of herself. As much as she'd chosen her path, knew what she had to do, she knew as well - she would never be the same person again.

Some things in life were irrevocable.

Instead, she sent all her wishes, all the power along her Cetra lineage, towards the baby and its future, her hopes that it would escape the orbit of Shinra and live free. Maybe someday, she would too, and they could be reunited again.

Exhausted, she found herself lulled into a softened sleep, the baby nestled against her breasts. But before she slipped away into motherly bliss, she turned to look at the clock. It had been nearly twenty-four hours.

It was well into the next day.

"April second, Zack," she whispered to her baby's cooing face. Newborn eyes slowly closed, and she gave herself this one chance to nurse, bliss at having her baby close. "It would have been two years today."

All her old clothes were useless, too tight now for her filled-out curves. Aerith knew she'd never return to her girlish thinness - Elmyra had warned her as much. It left yet another marker on her body that would remind her, every day.

She was aware that nostalgia was taking hold as she found herself reaching for pink. Whisper-soft pastel pink, bright pink, dark pink. Stubbornly, she made her choices, as if the color was somehow a source of strength.

She was determined to start selling her flowers; her looks, her personality, all part of her arsenal of opportunity. With that in mind, she matched incongruously a solid pair of black leather boots that would figuratively and literally carry her farther and further than her old sandals would. Almost as an afterthought, she added a set of bangles for each wrist, they clinking against each other like bells, the sound comforting.

Taking it all home, she tried piece after piece, looking herself over in the mirror. She braided her materia into its customary place, remembering the way her mother used to have to do it for her; then with a deep sigh, typing Zack's ribbon around it all. She noted with satisfaction it set off the whole outfit, making her feel somehow, whole again - even as it reminded her of all she had lost, wound heartrending and fresh.

The flowers had always bloomed well near her home, but while she was pregnant, they had positively exploded into a profusion of varieties and colors, covering the small hillock on which her home sat. She started off small, picking a few blooms for the neighborhood, accepting whatever small payment someone would offer - or even taking none if it was for charity, content for the moment just to be spreading the cheer. The work gave her something to do with mind and hands that would otherwise be left bored and fretting. Other plants turned out to have medicinal properties, and those she gave freely as well, growing her reputation in the sector.

She had many acquaintances, knowing a little of everyone in the neighborhood, and they knew her. She aided with odd jobs here and there, whatever the neighbors needed, channeling her energy into helping others as there was little she could do to help herself. But all the same, she kept few truly close, no one she truly called a friend. It was as things always had been, just she and her mother with Shinra lurking behind, as she slowly let go of her dream of a life that went down a different path.

Even so, she never truly got lonely. Her comfort was in the peace of the church, she alone with the planet. The strange creature that had protected her came and went, the rafters of the church a quasi-permanent home, she and it together observing silent vigil over Zack's missing memory. As it flapped its wings lazily, disrupting the dust of the church where the interior crumbled into decrepitude, she thought of the sky. Flowers reach for the sky. The same way she had once reached for Zack. Would she ever leave Midgar, the way Ifalna had told her to? Could she one day find the courage to reach out on her own?

In her more desolate moods, she wrote letters. One after another; she'd started before birth, but the correspondence continued, flowing like water to an unknown sink. At first detailed, then becoming more repetitive and rote, but always with the same love in the pages within. Letters more than kisses unite souls. Where had she heard that?

But where were all her words going? She handed them off to Tseng on his regular visits to the church, he leaving a noncommittal promise to get the letters where they needed to be, but gave no inkling of where that might be. Eventually, she started to wonder if he didn't actually know.

A time or two, she considered going to him for help. Should she take him up on his offer? Should she ask him to help her leave Midgar? In the end, she realized none of these things were what she needed to fill her aching hole.

It was no one's job to save her. For the moment, she was just a survivor. That was all she could hope to be, days passing by just a conjunction to the next and the next. A wilting flower, she was, during that time - flower patch in the church reflecting her faded self, the readings of her soul as they drooped, and it was only for their sake that she struggled to lift her mood.

Despite the grit and filth, the slums held her firm, the armor of the steel sky above her protection from giving up. Starved for their connection to the Planet, the people turned to each other, and wasn't that the same thing after all? To find something outside yourself, something part of the whole, all those dreams and hopes intermingling, creating something more; a sector that formed a rusty version of home, that for most was more than enough. Those were the kinds of lessons she hoped to teach people, the flowers being her words to speak.

She still found herself afraid, though, to go above the plate, the part of her resisting with every cell the idea of going it alone. Zack's words came back to her, that day at the playground – the last she'd ever seen of him. Of course they're beautiful. Aerith tended to them with love and care. It's our dream to fill Midgar with flowers… and she had hung her head, thinking of so many dreams she wanted with him. With them, together.

She'd told him that day, I'm ready, not really knowing what she was ready for. And he'd promised… He'd be there with her. Her hero. She could trust him, feel safe with him – but all that was gone. Now, she could only rely on herself.

It was a chance meeting that changed her path.

Walking near the weapon store, she spied an unfamiliar man – if she didn't know him, he certainly didn't belong to the Sector. His unusual style and travel-worn clothing suggested he was not from the slums at all. She caught a snippet of conversation. "- never seen anything like the monster problem you have in Midgar – "

Her curiosity piqued, she approached. "Excuse me," she asked, the shop owner and the man turning as one, "what was that you were saying about the monster problem in Midgar?"

He looked at her, kind brown eyes, wisps of hair barely covering a middle-aged head. "I was just saying how the outside world is so different. You've got monsters popping up everywhere in Midgar from all the mako in those reactors. It was only a matter of time before the creatures exploded, and they sure have. You've never been outside?"

Once, almost, she thought. "No," she told him. "I've been in the slums all my life."

"Well, it's pretty bad outside the gates, but then as you leave Midgar it declines steeply. By the time you get to my hometown, it's just regular, weak beasts."

"Where are you from?" she asked him.

"Kalm," he replied. Kalm. She knew where it was on a map, but not much else. Some rumors of Shinra activity, years back, never definitively confirmed. Where was Shinra not involved, anyway? "I've heard it's nice there," she told him.

"It's different, for sure." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A slum girl. You must be used to those things. You'd have no problem traveling."

She blushed. "Well… you see… I don't actually know how to fight," she admitted, embarrassed.

"In Midgar? How old are you, eighteen, twenty? It's about time you learned. Everyone in the slums should at least carry a weapon." He turned to the shop owner. "What kind of weapon would be best for her, do you think?"

"For Aerith?" The owner paused. "Maybe a staff. Good starter weapon, doesn't need all that much strength, it's all in the leverage. I just got a couple new kinds in a few days back."

"Well, let's get them out to take a look," he reached for the proffered items, but Aerith put a hand on his arm to stop him. "I can't really afford those," she admitted awkwardly.

His eyes rested on her, following down to the basket in her arms. "Well, then," he told her. "Those are some very pretty flowers. You know, it's been a long time since I've been away from Kalm, and those flowers kind of remind me at home. How about… a trade? I always feel like I find more interesting things bartering over buying."

Aerith found herself without a way to politely decline, and wordlessly handed over the basket. It had some of her favorites – near-white lilies, purple dahlias, bright daffodils. Mentally, she catalogued their meanings. Modesty. Dignity. New beginnings.

Maybe it was a fair trade after all.

Nevertheless, she winced at the weapon's price. Trade or not, it was certainly more than she would ever expect for any of her flowers, even with she insisting he buy the cheapest guard stick they had available. ("Eco-friendly," the shop told her with a smile, for herself even more than for the money. "Kind of makes sense for a flower girl, doesn't it?")

She tested the weight experimentally. She could do this. "Do you even know at all how to use it?" the stranger asked.

"Uh… no." She lifted it to eye level. Not a giant sword, but it might be just enough.

"Well, then I s'pose I could take some time to teach you a few things," he suggested.

Aerith was grateful for his offer. "I didn't even get your name," she said.

"Names sometimes tell who a person is, and sometimes they don't mean much," he replied. "Might as well just call me Traveler."

She took him to a small packed-dirt clearing just off the path to her house, and for the rest of the day, he taught her the basics, drilling her over and over until she felt she had the hang of it.

By the time the sun set, he left with a warm goodbye, basket of her blossoms hooked over one arm as he walked away. He'd said he was leaving town early in the morning; she wondered if she would ever see him again.

But the lessons he'd given her served her well. It was on her own that she learned to channel magical energy through the staff's path, using little more effort than the most basic concentration, the way everyone knew to use simple materia shards. But she could heal even without materia; for her it was nothing. Months passed as she practiced, and besides having another outlet for her energy, she found her confidence increasing as well.

She still wrote letters, perhaps by now out of simple stubbornness, but found anger as much as sadness welling up as yet another envelope was taken away without a response. It had been more than two years, and she still didn't know what had happened. Had he abandoned her? Left her for whatever Shinra demanded of him, maybe found someone else along the way? She'd always thought he wasn't meant for Shinra, it wasn't who he was – could she really have been so wrong? The Planet didn't seem to think so. Then why this?

SOLDIER still frightened her. She didn't think that would ever change. The Turks, not so much, Tseng still a part of her life, as regular as rain and at least as ephemeral. They belonged to the world – above, a world she still shrank from. The day she had been putting off for so long was becoming imminent. She couldn't be a coward forever.

She gripped the stick, withdrawn into its retractable casing but ready to expand at the pop of a button, flower basket over her left arm. She'd chosen a variety of her brightest blooms for the occasion, their windswept voices providing her companionship and comfort.

Nerves wracked her stomach as she approached the station, memories of another station nearby from THAT day… She reached up instinctively to the sphere hidden in her hair, the passing touch giving her the same comfort it always did, just the sensation of it near being enough to move her feet forward as she drew near the jostling crowds.

She boarded, settling into her seat as the train began to move, its clanking merging with the buzz of the people around her, noise and light a vigorous tableau for her senses. As it pulled out of the station, she realized that since that day, she'd never actually been on a train – like most slum residents, walking was enough for her. Occasionally, a chocobo carriage for special occasions. But the trains…

Slowly, terror made way to fascination, and she looked around in wonder at the flashing scenery as it left the ground floor and began its circular climb up the pillar. Moments of blackness interspersed the journey as it traveled through tunnels. She absorbed the energy of those around her, their nonchalance reassuring her that she was safe, that there was no cause for concern. She adjusted her arms and dress slightly, pulling further into herself in the tight-packed space, and settled in to wait.

It was almost a disappointment when their destination was finally announced; and she realized, this part of her adventure was over. She disembarked, the flood of the crowd carrying her home, Shinra workers boarding for the trip below even as celebrants exited to the dark sky outside. She looked up, entranced; stars blocked out by the lights of Midgar, as blinding above as below, but with a blanket of evening, she felt… comforted. Safe. Like she was wrapped up snug, nestled softly inside instead of a wide-open blue bowl threatening to swallow her up.

She followed the stream of people to the exit of the station down a slim lane, when she felt the flowers reach out through the pulse of life, sensing something off to the side. Following their lead, she was drawn to a vent off to the side, and she leaned forward to the greenish glow below in anticipation.

Lifestream.

Not completely pure, but it was there; some residue of the processed mako the city so depended on, escaping up to the surface. She dunked her head in, breathing in that feeling of light and life, her soul connecting with the Planet and everything it contained. The flowers hummed their approval, their silent words for her ears only; and she stood to her feet, renewed.

Bearing the sensation in her mind, the thought gave her wings. Unafraid, she stepped out into the streets of Sector 8.

Author's Note: The quote about the flowers and letters is from John Donne, and it just fit so perfectly here.

I'm into the meanings of flowers, and that is actually what the flowers in Aerith's basket (the ones she gives to the Kalm traveler) mean.

Gonna try to get up at least one more chapter for you this weekend!