"It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul."

― William Ernest Henley, Echoes of Life and Death

"Do you believe in fate?"

She was startled by the question. Small talk was not something her companion often indulged in, and such philosophical subjects were definitely out of the norm.

"Fate?" She pondered the question for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe. I mean after everything that we went through with the Whispers I think it would be wrong to dismiss the idea entirely."

Cloud didn't seem particularly surprised at her answer. "Right. So maybe everything we do is pointless."

"I wouldn't say that." Aerith mused. "When it comes to fate, I don't want to believe in it." They were sat in the Syldra Inn at Cosmo Canyon. Night had fallen and the desert air had cooled, but the atmosphere inside was pleasantly lively. She and Cloud were sat in a cosy nook as their group took a moment to enjoy a brief respite. Turning back to the man beside her she shrugged. "I know that after everything we've seen it's probably silly to think, but I don't want to believe in the sort of fate that means we can't change where our paths are headed. That's just a really sad thought."

The expression on Cloud's face was troubling her. "Do you believe in it, fate I mean?"

He sighed heavily and turned away, reaching for his drink. "I believe that there are powers out there that want things to happen in a certain way."

"The Whispers?"

Cloud stared into the amber liquid in his glass and frowned. "When we fought the Whisper Harbinger, you weren't shown anything, were you?"

Aerith eyed Cloud warily. "No, I mean I saw what the rest of you were shown, but nothing just for me. What did you see, Cloud?"

"Plenty of things I wish I hadn't seen." He looked up at her and Aerith almost shied away from the intensity in his gaze. "I don't believe in fate."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I refuse to believe that there is some power in this world that I can't fight against. I'm not a puppet."

Aerith reached for him without thinking, but Cloud didn't pull away. Her fingertips brushed his forehead and then down to his cheek. "What's wrong, Cloud?"

His larger, gloved hand came up and took hers, holding it in place. "Nothing. Everything is perfect right now."

There were plenty of perfect moments on their journey. Dates on the skywheel at the Gold Saucer. Taking a quiet moment in the flower meadow outside of Kalm. Holding Aerith's hand like he was now.

The perfect moments never lasted though. They were fleeting, and they always led to the Forgotten City and the most imperfect of moments.

Cloud had lived that moment more times than he cared to count.

Sometimes he was much too late, her body limp on the dias by the time he arrived, surrounded by blood and black feathers.

The times that he arrived before Sephiroth appeared usually followed the same pattern: he fought against the force pulling at him like the strings on a marionette before breaking free and rushing forward to block the sword that bore down on Aerith. Sometimes he was a second too late, at other times he could not overpower Masamune. The cruellest times were when he did manage to push the wicked blade aside and Aerith was saved. Because those times never lasted.

He had experienced multiple realities at once countless times over by now. She was alive, she was dead, they won, they lost.

It never mattered.

The moments of victory always fizzled out for Cloud and he would find himself clutching Aerith's still form as Sephiroth gloated.

The alternate realities that Sephiroth had told him about - Cloud had seen so many by this point. He didn't know if they persisted or snuffed out the moment he returned back to the nightmare on the altar. He assumed that somewhere out there in the universes where he was both quick enough and strong enough to save Aerith, that Cloud was living happily.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter because the Cloud that he was seemed to be stuck in a world where Aerith died. This Cloud found himself unable to save the girl that had worked her way into his heart. The rules always changed against his favour and even when he did everything right, something snapped him right back to his own personal hell.

When he lived these moments the first time he had been damaged, confused. Aerith was alive, but only to him. He had not accepted that she was gone, because to him, she wasn't. Always looking out for him, Aerith had guided him from the Lifestream. In an effort to protect his fragile mind, she had remained with him as best she could. They had talked, laughed, but in retrospect they had never touched again after they had battled Sephiroth in that empty dimension and he had bade her to wake up. The person he was back then had said goodbye to Aerith as he boarded the Tiny Bronco, understanding that she needed to stay in the Forgotten City in order to pray for Holy.

He hadn't understood at all.

His mind, so fractured and easily manipulated by Sephiroth, had been his greatest foe. After falling into the Lifestream with Tifa, and coming through the other side with his memories finally healed, he had been able to understand that Aerith had given her life at the altar that day. He had understood, but he had never accepted it.

He had lived with his guilt an ever present weight in his gut.

In the end Aerith had saved them all, harnessing the power of the Lifestream when it seemed that Holy would fail against Meteor. But Cloud had never accepted that her death had been the only way to save the world. Though he may not have accepted it he had had to live with it.

He had lived with it for over a year after Sephiroth had been defeated, trying to get through one day at a time. He had assisted in the efforts to rebuild the world after all the dust had settled, he helped friends and strangers alike and he had carried on.

But the guilt never left, and the perfect moments never returned.

It had been a day like so many others when the time came that his world was turned upside down once more. He had spent a busy day helping Tifa and Barrett deal with various errands around Edge, and eradicating nests of troublesome monsters at the city borders.

The moon had long since risen in the sky by the time Cloud headed into the ruins of Midgar. His feet had traced a familiar route to Sector 5 and the bones of the church that stood there. He had settled at the sparse camp that he had set up, collapsing on to his bed roll and turning to face the patch of flowers that still persisted in the ruins. He had stared at the sunny blooms, hoping that sleep would find him quickly. It had, and his dreams had been blessedly without the images that had haunted him for the past year. He had felt her comforting presence however and had heard her soft voice as she told him that everything would be okay.

He had come back to consciousness slowly, his senses feeling dull and sluggish. When he eventually prised his eyelids apart he had assumed that he was still dreaming.

The crumbling stone and stained glass of the church had been replaced by the comfortable furnishings of the Inn at Kalm. He had shot from his bed in confusion. The noises drifting in from the open window, the smell of polished wooden furniture, the creak of floorboards beneath his boots; they were overwhelmingly real . He had never been one to dream so vividly and he found himself caught in fearful confusion.

Pinches, punches and eventually a swipe of his finger across the blade of his sword had finally been enough to make Cloud doubt that he was asleep.

His first thought had been that he had been kidnapped - but why would his captors leave him unguarded in a comfortable bed, and with his weapon and materia nearby?

His next thought had been that he had blacked out and made his own way to Kalm. When he had settled his confused panic, he had taken note of the presence of Barrett's pack near one of the other beds in the room. The sight was familiar and tinged with slight nostalgia.

Cloud had left the room, feet carrying him across the landing and down the stairs. The foyer was largely empty and he was not stopped as he made his way to the front door and out into the main square. He had squinted at the glare of the sun, staring out at the busy town in confusion.

The soft touch of a hand on his upper arm, and the still-familiar voice almost made his heart stop. "Morning, Sleepy Head!"

Cloud had whipped around, eyes wide and jaw hanging loose. "Aerith?"

The girl had giggled, looking down at herself. "That's me, the last I checked." Looking back at Cloud she had frowned. "Are you okay?"

He had found himself on the verge of hyperventilating, eyes screwed shut as he shook his head. It must have been a dream after all. A cruel dream.

Aerith had taken hold of him, guiding him to a nearby bench. "Here, sit down." She had taken a seat beside him, fingers rubbing against the back of his hand, almost imperceptible through his gloves. "What's wrong?"

His eyes had burned with threatening tears when he finally forced them open to look at her. She was just as he remembered her, all sweetness and gentle smiles. He had not seen her like this since he had come to terms with his fractured psyche. No matter how many times he sensed her in his dreams, pressed against his back and offering soothing words that were never quite enough to assuage his guilt, he had been too scared, too ashamed, to turn and face her.

But right now she seemed so real, so here .

He raised his hand and brushed along one of the curls hanging next to her face. "Is this the Lifestream?"

Aerith had blushed prettily at his gentle touch before blinking in confusion. "No, just Kalm. Did you have a bad dream or something, Cloud?"

"I guess so." Cloud had answered before crushing her to him in a desperate hug.

For days, weeks even, Cloud had expected to wake up in Edge, still full of guilt and sadness. But that never happened. He started to believe that he had in fact been returned to the past. To change how things happened? He had no idea, but that was his plan.

He lived his days in a state of deja vu as he re-lived his journey with the group, from Kalm to Junon and beyond. He was optimistic: he knew what was coming, he knew how to best their enemies. His mind had also remained healed, the headaches from his split memories no longer plaguing him, though he still felt the echo of Sephiroth's pull in his mind; it seemed that that particular blood bond was hard to break.

It was strange, not knowing how much he could, if indeed he should, change. Afraid of sending everything spiralling out of control, he had followed his previous path through events as closely as he could. He also refrained from telling the others what was happening to him. Not only due to the fear that they would think that Cloud had gone completely insane, but also because there was a sizeable part of him that didn't quite believe it himself.

There were of course some changes. Without Sephiroth's poisoned words trickling in to his ear, Cloud did not attack Tifa at the Gongaga reactor this time around. The earth had rippled with an angry tremor however, and the woman had fallen into the reactor's flooded centre nonetheless, swallowed by one of the Weapons. She had been rescued safely as before, none the worse for wear, but moments like this put Cloud on edge - what if he could not change the event that he was most desperate to?

In the end that is what had happened.

It had been cruel indeed that Cloud had lived through the events of the Eastern and Western continents all over again, armed with his knowledge and full of hope that they would all be leaving the City of Ancients together this time. He had spent the weeks since waking in his own past daring to wish for a better future.

Being able to see Aerith again, being able to have more time with her, had left Cloud lighter than ever before. He was not sure what Aerith had thought of the sudden change in him but she had been happy and receptive to him instigating touches. Holding her hand, sitting close to her when they camped. In fact, he barely let her out of his sight. His hope that things would be different had led him to open his heart more readily to Aerith, all the realisations and feelings that had come to him in that final day with her in the past (the future?) were already present in him now. He had kissed her on their Skywheel date this time round, making the move he had not been brave enough to previously. Their journey from that point had been punctuated with kisses in the moments of private they could find, quiet conversations and lingering touches while the others slept.

Perhaps it had been foolish of him to indulge in those feelings, because it pierced his heart even more when events seemed determined to unravel as they had the first time round.

Cloud had easily fought against Sephiroth's power this time, no longer a puppet to the crazed man. He did not stalk Aerith across the ancient vines and tree limbs in search of the Black Materia, but Sephiroth's Whispers had still herded the girl in that direction, buffeting against her as she tried to escape them.

Aerith had run, urged forward by Sephiroth's Whispers, and so he had followed her. As before, they had been knocked from their precarious perch by the Whispers and they had plummeted into the crater left by the missing temple. Cloud had wrapped Aerith's form in his arms to protect her and they had fallen into another world once more.

There had been another date in Sector 5 with the Aerith that wasn't quite his. He had tried to question her about events but she had been evasive as before, seemingly content to spend time with him before she handed over the White Materia. He had been prepared for her to shove him into the portal of rainbow tinged light this time, and had resisted, catching the edge of the floorboards and holding on desperately. Aerith had looked down at him, her expression a mixture of surprise and sadness as Cloud fought against the forces pulling him down.

He watched the doors of the church open, and Sephiroth's form approach her from behind and shook his head. "Not again. It can't always be like this."

"Maybe not always." Aerith said gently. "But for now, I'm afraid it is."

And then he fell, hand still reaching for her in futile desperation.

When his unconscious self spoke to Aerith in the forest, he begged her not to go, tried to keep the White Materia from her, but in the end she left as before. She was already gone when he came out of his stupor. He had raced towards the Forgotten City, made it through the Whispers blocking his path, and found Aerith praying, a familiar and chilling sight.

How cruel that he couldn't save her this time round either. He had been ready to intercept Sephiroth, and had pushed Masamune away, but once again multiple outcomes played out for him, before he was left cradling Aerith's injured form.

"I don't understand." He had whispered. "Why did I come back if nothing changed?"

The Aerith in his arms smiled gently at him. "It will all be okay, you'll see."

He had kissed her this time, and felt her last breath on his lips.

Cloud had fought like a man possessed against Jenova Lifeclinger and Sephiroth, his mind reeling from not being able to save Aerith. When Zack had fallen back into the rift, his plea of "Save her" had almost seemed like a reprimand.

She had turned up to help him defeat Sephiroth this time too, but now he knew she was part of the Lifestream at this point. They succeeded in their battle and Aerith took his hand as they stood back to back.

"Are you ready? Everyone's waiting."

"Wait." He had said desperately. "I came back to save you. Why does this outcome have to be the one?"

Aerith had squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Do you believe in fate, Cloud? Because I don't."

The world had faded to brilliant white then, and he was back on the dias with Aerith prone on the floor. Perhaps it was because he had already accepted what world he found himself in, but this time there was no Aerith that opened his eyes at his command, but just a lifeless girl surrounded by her grieving friends.

Cloud had grieved this time too. Losing her a second time felt worse, though he had not thought such a thing to be possible.

He had sat by the water and cried, openly and unashamed. He had failed. Whatever second chance had been given to him and he had squandered it.

The others had left him this time, Barrett had prompted them to leave him in peace for a while instead of suggesting they all make tracks onwards.

Cloud had remained where he was, the ethereal silence of the Forgotten City oppressive against him. There was no Aerith in spirit form with him either, though he was not sure what that meant, if anything.

Please he had thought, to whatever deity might be listening. Please don't take her again .

He sat there until the emotional toll of the day overcame him and he curled in on himself and allowed sleep to take him.

When he had awoken, he did not find himself in the Forgotten City or in the Tiny Bronco. Instead he was back in the inn at Kalm, heart still broken and memories of Aerith's second loss stabbing at his dreams.

He had not hesitated this time, down the stairs and outside into the sun before spotting Aerith a little ways down the road. He had sprinted to her, gathering her up and holding on to her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet.

And so had begun a cycle of Cloud living his life from the first day in Kalm up to the moment he lost Aerith. Usually it ended with him cradling her body in the Forgotten City, but on one occasion there had been a change to the normal chain of events.

It had been early on in their adventure. The group had been making their way through the Mythril Mines when Aerith's footing had slipped on one of the narrow pathways. She had slipped, Cloud's fingers barely being able to brush the ribbon on her hair as she fell from sight. Red XIII had scrambled down after her, his sure footing allowing him to reach her before any of the others. By the time Cloud had been able to get to her, she was gone. Red's head bowed sadly, the glow of his healing materia fading.

It had been the third cycle of events for Cloud and he had grown complacent, assuming that they would always make it to the City of Ancients. Losing her before they even stepped foot into Junon had ripped even that small amount of faith away from him.

He had carried her through the rest of the mines, Barrett, Tifa and Red clearing the way for them. They had encountered the Turks deep in the mine, but this time there had been no battle. The reproachful glare and angry words that Tseng had spat out upon seeing Aerith's broken form would have pierced Cloud's heart, had it not already been broken.

He had refused to let her go, to take a reprieve, the entire way to the Chocobo ranch. There they had been able to rest, Aerith still clutched to Cloud's chest as he sat and stared vacantly towards the ocean. He was so used to the otherworldly glow of the Forgotten City that holding her to him in the bright light of day was hard to comprehend. The blissful emptiness of sleep came for him long after the daylight had dwindled, his face buried in Aerith's chestnut locks.

His eyes had opened to Kalm, just like the previous times. It had been this cycle that had left him sure that it was possible to save Aerith.

It did not seem to matter if it happened in the Forgotten City or elsewhere, but if she died, Cloud found himself right back where he started. He did not know how to achieve it, but he was sure that he had to find a way to save the woman who had so clearly taken his heart.

The next time they walked through the Mythril Mines, Cloud made sure that Aerith stayed closest to the wall, holding his hand at all times.

Each attempt he made at not screwing things up was built upon the last. He tried new things: sometimes they were disastrous, sometimes they worked, but none of the changes kept Aerith alive in the end.

And so he found himself here in Cosmo Canyon (again), sat next to the person he was so desperate to save. This would be attempt number seven, and each turn was getting harder and harder to face. A small part of his brain whispered that maybe this was his penance for letting her die, this pure spirit. Was he destined to watch over and over as she perished in his arms?

"I always leave it too late, but I should have told you sooner." He muttered, pressing her hand closer to his face.

"Told me what?" Aerith's voice was barely a whisper, as though afraid that she would break the spell that had settled over them.

"How much you mean to me." Cloud looked up at her now. "That I love you."

Her breath left her at his words, her verdant eyes wide as she met his gaze.

"I'll do it earlier next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah," he offered her a grim smile. "Next time."

She was dying again.

Her hand was tracing Cloud's face, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine. She always lied to him at this moment.

"What do I do, Aerith?" He didn't know how much more his heart could take. "I fail every time. How do I save you?"

Her eyes were gentle as she looked at him, and he felt that this time he had gotten the Aerith that had one foot in the Lifestream, and all the knowledge that came with it. "You're too hard on yourself, Cloud. Why do you always think it's something that you haven't done?"

He looked down at her smiling face, trying to ignore the warm wetness that was seeping into his knees.

"We need to make the most of the time we have — to live our lives the way we wanna live."

She had said those words to them before, in a dream that wasn't a dream.

"I don't-" Cloud shook his head, not following her words.

"You can't change the past, Cloud. But you can change the future, right?"

"I don't want a future without you."

She smiled, her teeth stained pink. "But when you wake up tomorrow, what will be the past, and what will be the future?"

He wiped red from the corner of her mouth. So this Aerith understood what was happening.

"So everything can be changed?"

Her breaths were shallow now, laborious, and yet her smile persisted. "Some things. But are you trying to change the right things?"

"Aerith," his tears were flowing now, knowing this was another goodbye. "Can't you tell me what I need to do?"

"I wish I could, Cloud." The hand at his face dropped as her strength waned. "There is clarity that comes with entering the Lifesteam. But you pay for it with time." Her eyes softened as they drifted shut. "I'm sorry, Cloud. Just remember, 'Every minute, every moment, matters', and remember that I already love you."

And then she was gone. Again.

When he next woke up in Kalm, Cloud waited a beat before rising from his bed. The last words that Aerith had imparted to him played in his mind. Every minute, every moment, matters.

She had said those words to him before too, the dream her in her flower garden back in Midgar. She had warned him not to fall in love with her in that same conversation. He had promised to come for her then, and he had. He always would.

Why do you always think it's something you haven't done? He didn't understand. It obviously was something that he wasn't doing. So many tries and Aerith continued to perish.

I already love you. Did she mean the Aerith that he would meet outside these doors?

He had told her his feelings on most of his forays to the past, though usually not until much later into their journey. On a few occasions he'd tried to ignore the feelings, both in an attempt to see if that changed matters, but also to try and save his own heart. It made little difference; he found it nigh on impossible to stay away from her, and ignoring his feelings didn't make them go away.

He'd told her back in Cosmo Canyon less than a week ago (or was it several weeks into the future?) that he'd left it too long to tell her what he felt. Told her that he'd do it sooner. Well what could be sooner than the beginning?

His dawdling meant that she wasn't outside the inn when he emerged. Craning his head to the left he spotted her ascending the steps towards the weapon store. He was off at a jog, weaving through the citizens of Kalm, ignoring their huffs as he jostled them.

She was peering at a window display of potions when he caught up with her, grasping her elbow and tugging her towards him.

She gasped, reaching for the materia on her bangle before she saw who had a hold of her.

"Cloud? Wha-"

Any further questions were halted as the man before her raised his free hand to cradle the back of her neck. "Every moment matters, right?"

And then he was kissing her, gently but purposely, his right hand slipping from her elbow to wrap around her waist.

Aerith sighed, partly from surprise and partly from pleasure, her form relaxing into Cloud's body, her arms winding around the neck of the man before her.

His kisses eventually subsided, slowing to pecks as he pulled back slightly. "Can we talk?"

Aerith blinked at him, trying to clear her mind. "Sure."

Posting my fics from AO3 here now that I've managed to get back in to this account again.

Anyways, here's my first multi-chapter FFVII story. Timey-wimey shenanigans and lots of Clerith goodness ahead.