Hi folks. Hope yous are all holding up!

I don't own anything, anyone or anywhere you recognise. Sapphire, along with a few others who'll crop up every now and then, are mine.

Happy May everyone. We here in the UK have already had our summer, two or three weeks in April were solid sunshine and no rain where I'm at, so anticipating nothing but showers this month. Hoping for the warmth though, and that those theories of the virus dying with the heat hold up!

Until we see that happen though, stay safe indoors, and stay entertained. Keep in touch with family and friends, because people get lonely. And enjoy the new chapter! :D

...I really need to get some cover art for this...

Chapter 3 - Garden

"Why do you think we roll our eyes when someone does something silly?" My voice pierced the stillness between us, even as softly as I had spoken, but didn't break the tranquillity in the air.

He didn't look at me as he contemplated aloud, several moments later, "I suppose it gives us some satisfaction. It is a means to express our discontent with a person without telling them outright."

"Ah, I didn't think of it being behind their back." He hummed in acknowledgment.

"The easiest way for people to express displeasure is through words. It requires additional effort to roll one's eyes, so a person will go out of their way to do so only when they do not want the person to know."

That made sense. "Not always, though," I disputed.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not always easier for a person to speak, like if they've got a toothache." I looked at him as I gave my argument, grinning as my unnecessary exception to his rule prompted him to roll his eyes.

"True. In which case, they would roll their eyes with exaggeration, if they want it to be noticed."

Hoping he would indulge me, I sniggered and asked, "How would a person exaggerate an eye roll?"

He hummed again, and turned on his side to face me, leading me to reflect the action though my eyes were already on him. He tutted and sighed heavily, and with deliberate slowness, he rolled his eyes skyward. His face tilted back slightly with the action, as if his eyes rolling back wasn't enough.

I was giggling before he completed the show, after which he looked down at me with drooping eyelids and a broad, fond smile. "I think you've done that to me before," I chortled.

He flipped onto his back once again. "The real question is, how many times?" he corrected, his cheek more than recognisable through his voice, even if I couldn't see the glint in his eyes anymore.

"You're the worst," I lied.

"Lies," he accused, summoning a scowl to my face.

"You absolutely are," I berated more sternly, sticking my tongue out when I noticed his head tilt my way.

"You wouldn't be here if I was," he rebuffed, with a sudden sincerity that disrupted our more familiar light-hearted banter.

"You think? I just thought I had terrible taste in people."

"A taste, in people?" he gently teased my poor choice in words.

"Shush. You know if I had a better way to put it I'd have went with it." My lazy defence received an approving chuckle from the back of his throat. An easy silence lapsed again, and I let my head fall back once again, returning my gaze to the sky, stars winking down at us.

Grass tickled the nape of my neck, so I gathered my hair in such a way that it acted as a pillow for my head and neck. A gentle breeze blew, carrying a fresh outdoorsy scent - I wish I could've been more descriptive, more specific about the different elements that composed the lovely smell, but I didn't know anything about flowers and plant life, beyond that trees were the bigger ones and flowers the littler ones.

I recalled a flower pot, with a few decently sized leaves sprouting; perhaps not the most vibrant green, likely a statement of my level of care for the plant, but certainly living, hanging in there. Nestled in the centre of the leaves was the beginnings of the real plant (stem or bud, I couldn't say) and I remembered how I felt the first day I noticed.

Not overwhelmed with joy, not jubilant or animated, but just a quiet satisfaction. I had thrown on a splash of water as if to congratulate it on a job well done, and had carried on with my day.

I remembered a suitcase, a bag or two, a sword sheathed and awkwardly propped up between my knees and feet, shuddering with every shift in the rails we hurtled over at great speed. And I had been cradling this plant with deliberate care, always one gloved hand on the pot, gazing out of a dirty window pane at the horizon. A rocky landscape, pale patches of grass shyly beginning to appear, and the occasional dusting of snow. A grand metal city shrouded with thick dark clouds behind us, out of sight but never forgotten.

And then, before I could register the earth-shaking noise that rung in my eardrums, the world spun on its axis—

"-Sapphire?"

Jolted from my recollection, I hastened to introduce a topic of conversation, "Did you ever have a garden?" I didn't dare to look at the man at my left, eyes firmly on the stars above.

It was only after he made a noise of confusion, then hummed in contemplation, that I registered that he had addressed me by name. I didn't quite know how I felt about that, so true to form, I didn't address it. "From what you know of me, do you think I had a garden?" he fired back evasively, almost accusatory.

I frowned, brow creasing in disapproval over his sudden defensiveness - what prompted that? I decided not to respond.

"I apologise," he spoke after some time. "You just took me by surprise. No, I never had a garden. Did you?"

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His head had turned in my direction, expression calm and eyes unmoving, intent, with the slightest gentle glow in the dark. Irritated by how easily I gave in and found myself appeased, I determinedly stared into the twinkling lights overhead, setting my mouth into a frown.

Moments dragged by. At my side, the man didn't move, his eyes set on me, patiently waiting for a response. I wanted to let him stew for a while though.

Unfortunately, the people pleaser in me won out, and with a heavy sigh I flopped my head to meet his gaze. "I didn't," I answered, with heavy eyelids and raised brows.

"In Mideel you mean, or your childhood home?" he asked for further clarification, smiling gently with an innocent air to him.

Suddenly angry, I sat upright. "I don't want to talk about this." He shouldn't have known that I lived anywhere but Mideel—

"Did that upset you? I'm sorry." His voice was slow and saccharine, placating. He came to sit up beside me, one red leather hand reaching out.

Frozen, I watched it from the corner of my eye. I had hesitated to reach out to him in comfort before, and I had regretted not doing so. This instance, it was… far less warranted. And we hadn't touched since that first time, on the top of the world, where he offered me his hand to pull me to my feet.

On the top of the world, on the roof of the Shinra building, they were basically the same thing. The memory was bittersweet, because that was just days after my capture; so disoriented was I, that I had thought that encounter actually happened. Whatever time after that I returned to the waking world, it could've been hours or weeks later, I had sat for a long time separating fact from fiction.

Sat in a metal cage big enough for a dozen people, deep in the throes of mako withdrawal, it was easy to draw the line between the happy bits being dreams and the rest real.

Roused from my thoughts, a storm cloud weighing over me, I watched his hand retreat with a weary acceptance. Heaving a calming breath, I smiled tiredly at the redhead.

"Nah, that's not fair of me. I'm angry at me, not you."

"Myself, not me," he corrected with a smirk, though his eyes showed well enough that he was doing so as a distraction, to be kind.

I snorted. "Shaddup."

I looked ahead, at a horizon I didn't recognise. Hills and valleys of lush green and wildflowers, a smattering of trees, a picture of paradise. I sighed wistfully, propping my chin up in my hand.

Suspecting the answer to be another negative, but still feeling like going for broke, I asked, "What sort of location do you like most? I know you're a bit of a city boy, but…"

'City boy' didn't seem like the correct terminology somehow. I supposed I had only really seen him in a city setting, but in reality, could the Shinra building be classified as a city setting?

There was that time he escorted me to the train station. I don't know what I could get from that though. He had weaved around people with the ease of a person who was accustomed to doing so, but that just meant he was accustomed to doing it.

Contemplating as I was, I had almost forgotten that I had asked a question when he responded, "I've always liked the beach."

"Eh?" My face scrunched in confusion as I twisted to size him up. Maybe he wasn't a city boy, but the beach? Him, the redhead, with the pale face and the grumpiness, he was the type for a fun day at the beach?

I could see him being dragged along by a couple friends, and spend the day sitting under a parasol with a book in his hand. Maybe wandering down the beach kicking down sandcastles and why was he sniggering—

Oh. "That was fun for you, right?" Because of course he was messing with me.

For his part, he looked very full of himself. "Infinite in mystery is the Gift of the Goddess," he replied airily, his voice lilting.

Sure, that was an appropriate response. "Don't you read anything else?" I complained. "Loveless is great and all, but a little variation couldn't hurt, right?"

Looking somewhere between unimpressed and appalled, he shot back with, "Any books you've read lately that you would recommend?"

"That's not fair," I pouted. "Reading material has been a little light the last few months."

"And before then?"

"Well, most of my downtime was spent sleeping in the infirmary after you put me there," I retorted sardonically, hoping a cheesy grin thrown his way would take the edge off.

With raised eyebrows, he questioned, "The infirmary's reading material wasn't satisfactory?"

"They never gave me any!" I proclaimed, with exaggerated outrage. He let out a breath, putting on an air of disgust with a gentle shake of the head. "You should fix—"

Oof. That was sore.

…No, that's not good.

What had been a dull ache in my chest became—

Argh. Oww.

Suddenly we were on sand; I would've liked to pretend it was a visualisation of the beach conversation we were having, but the air was just too dry, the sun too blazing. And my chest, it was burning, like I hadn't felt before—

I had been able to ignore it, and disappear into my own head, but no way, now it was impossible to focus on anything else. And he was gone, and the sand was gone, and all that was left was the burning, like my chest was on fire and it was crawling outwards, spreading to everything but never lessening and never relenting, just constant—

Was my brain exploding? Suddenly I noticed there was a crushing weight over my forehead. I instinctively pressed myself down into the bed I was lying on as if to get away from the weight, but doing so made my back, the base of my skull and all along the backs of my legs ache and itch and burn, like ants were crawling beneath my skin and biting and screeching—

I didn't feel as though I could move, but an act of sheer desperation brought my arm, prickling with pins-and-needles, flying up to my forehead and throwing the cloth that lay there with all the strength I was able to muster. Somewhere in my addled mind, I noticed that I hadn't heard it land, or thump heavily against a wall; wasn't it damp like usual, or had it dried out?

Still burning. Sunk down in a mattress like I was, nearly consumed by it, every inch of skin in contact with anything else aching like it was being clamped and squeezed. What on Gaia was happening? I felt like I had been dipped in acid, everything raw and burning and just aching—

If I could do nothing else, I needed to at least flip myself out of this bed. All the contact on every side with the limp mattress was too much for me to handle, and the fraction of my own awareness that wasn't fixated on the agony was able to register that I was as good as drowning in my own sweat. Gross. But thankfully there were no blankets over me (probably pooled around my ankles, with all the twisting and turning I must've been doing) so if I could just get my hands under me, and find the strength to kick out a leg towards the wall—

With a great THUD my face met the floor, and the rest of my body followed.

The shock of that impact was completely unnoticeable with the relief that I felt, a chilly breath of air breezing over the aching areas of my burning skin. Shivers ran up my spine, a more pleasurable feeling than I could remember feeling before.

The fraction of awareness I held onto had my ears ringing, with the sound of a door bouncing off a wall with great force. Garbled mumbling followed, obfuscating the voice and words equally, like I was underwater. I didn't particularly mind, because I was drifting again.

…

"Hey, babe."

I glanced at my dabber as she entered with haste, a little disgruntled at the pet name. "Excuse me?"

"Oh wow." She stumbled back into the door she had just closed with a frightened look on her face, the cloth in her hand falling to the wooden floor with a dull thump. "Good morning," she continued, after a long pause.

I returned the greeting, though with less warmth. After a few moments' pause, the woman (in her… thirties…?) bent to retrieve the cloth, looking at the small puddle it left with disdain.

"I'll come back with a fresh napkin," she said decisively, and left with the same quick steps she entered with.

Raising an eyebrow, I wondered if she thought my standards for cleanliness were that high, or if the floor really was that dirty. I hoped she didn't exhaust herself that much, that frequently.

"Sorry about that," she apologised, flustered as she returned with a new cloth in hand, "I was just surprised to see you awake and aware."

"Don't worry about it." She stood in place for a few moments, and I gazed at her curiously, seeing her tuck a frizzy blonde strand behind one ear, giving a frazzled appearance. Was my staring making her uncomfortable? I looked away, to the open window on my left, seeing a bright blue sky with a single wisp of cloud. "The other cloth would have been fine."

"I guess I'm a stickler for hygiene," she divulged, tiptoeing forward. "It maybe isn't the best first impression either." The uncomfortable-looking chair at my bedside creaked as she sat in it, a familiar sound I associated with a feeling of comfort.

I turned my head back to see her perched on the edge of it, her hand outstretched, offering me the cloth. I accepted it with a faint smile, shakily pressing it to my cheeks and forehead before draping it over the back of my neck, enjoying the cool moisture against my warm skin. "I have plenty of impressions of you before now," I shrugged, slightly unsure of myself. Suddenly feeling the pressure of feeling indebted to this stranger.

"All good, I hope," she chimed in with a forced chuckle, before visibly cringing.

I smirked, feeling endeared to this woman, having recognised that gesture well. The awkwardness of forcing a response before you've figured out how to respond. "All besides the pet name," I offered.

"Well I didn't have anything else to call you," she rebuked. I read it for what it was.

With a faint smile and a hand outstretched, which she took before I even spoke, I introduced myself, "Call me Aqua."

…

"You're feeling better then?" he observed, voice airy.

"Seems so, yeah," I replied in kind, looking down at myself, as if appearance was how I judged my current level of wellness. "You'll be glad of the peace and quiet, I'm sure."

"Indeed. Still though, I do hope you'll continue to visit on occasion. I have just got the place how I like it," he said dryly, raising his arms in a gesture to the empty white space we stood in.

I snorted a laugh, appreciative of his sarcasm. "I'm sure you haven't seen the last of me," I agreed. "This feels too much like a farewell. Come on, we both know I'll be here every night."

Just because I was re-joining the real world, it didn't mean I couldn't keep visiting my comfy little fantasy land. After all, it wasn't going anywhere, it'd still be rattling around inside my own head.

I hated it when I was here and aware of how imaginary it was. I needed something more real to grab onto. "Let's play a game while we chat. The usual?"

"You're very brave," he teased, sweeping the tails of his red leather coat behind him as he sat in front of the game board. He didn't look too comfortable in his position; his legs to one side, propping an elbow up on his one raised knee, while the other hand was placed on the floor beside him for balance. "Scrabble again?"

"I'll beat you at it one day, just you watch," I challenged determinedly, sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the board.

"Should I go easy on you?" he offered, smirk on his face as he played his first word.

"Shut up," I declared in disbelief, ignoring his tease as I marvelled at his play. "That's not fair, you're cheating."

"I am not," he defended, sounding affronted, and far too smug. "And finite is only six letters, even with the double letter score I get just thirteen points. I could take them back and try to compose a word with seven, if you prefer?"

Having spotted a play, I waved him off, "You're alright, I can make this back." I picked my two tiles while he reached for the sack beside the board and picked out six more for himself. Smugly, I placed my letters in front of his own, "There! Infinite. Can't make any complaints about that." As if he had been the one complaining.

He smiled, "True, and you have taken the lead, well done." It might have sounded genuine if it wasn't so blatantly patronising. With his handful of six letters, he picked up the letter he had not used and put another in its place.

"You're joking," I complained, aghast. Again with six letters?

"It's simply good fortune, I assure you," he appeased me as he placed the tiles. I studied them suspiciously as he turned the board to face me.

"Nope, this is taking the biscuit," I decided, folding my arms and pouting at him.

He smiled innocently, "It's only seventeen points, even with the two double letter scores. You got fifteen with your last play."

"With two letters, after your six," I pointed out, frowning heavily. "Also this can't be a happy accident."

"I don't follow." His smirk implied otherwise.

"Infinite, then—"

"You played the in, don't forget," he butted in, earning a glare.

"Infinite, after my in, and then you play mystery?"

"I have to use the tiles I've been… gifted," he defended, holding a hand to his chest defensively, as if wounded.

"I'm so done with this game."

Contemplatively, he decided, "I think that's a record. Usually we get five words on the board before you start your dramatics."

I raised my eyebrows, "My dramatics? You're one to talk!"

"What's the phrase," he wondered, before smirking, "takes one to know one?"

"I'm not dramatic!" I declared, scowling. "I just know how to recognise when I'm being cheated."

He dipped his hand into the bag full of tiles again, the sound of them clicking together in the quiet. "Perhaps, you enjoy losing?" he proposed, voice airy again. I never knew what to make of it when he put on that voice. It felt like his disconnect from emotion. I remembered that tone of voice curling around some frustratingly accurate claims in our history.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, with scepticism.

His head tilted slightly, knowledgeable yet sad smile on his face. "I wonder. But most people like to win, and the ones that don't like to win don't hate the loser for losing." His crystalline blue eyes met mine then, and I found my mind cast back to the manor.

Not my recent escape from there, no; the time I didn't escape. When my tutor and I had played hide and seek in the Virtual Training room. Somehow, despite all the fuzz and blurry images in my head, I remembered that scene well. Maybe because I had seen the inside of the place as I broke free?

I had hidden, run away, and he had pursued me. A grand, angry presence wrecking about the place, busting down doors and calling out to me, testing my resilience, inspiring fear. It had been terrifying.

And so much fun. I ran, I hid, I took every opportunity he gave me to escape—

And he had enjoyed it too, because otherwise I wouldn't have had a single one of those. That actually hadn't occurred to me until now.

It had been a losing battle from my point of view, all about surviving as long as I could and hoping for escape. Beating him in combat had never so much as crossed my mind as a possibility. So I had embraced my failure before we had even begun, and made it as enjoyable as possible. And he had enjoyed it too.

"You don't need to choose to lose, just because I prefer to win. Challenge me to battles I'm not accustomed to, and test my humility. I want to learn to be graceful in defeat."

"When did you get so mature?" I joked weakly; as always, unsure of how to respond to real meaningful conversation.

"It's a recent venture," he claimed cheekily, perhaps taking pity on my discomfort. "So, would you do that for me?"

The tentativeness with which he asked me that inspired a firm reply. "Of course I will! Um, wait…" I trailed off, putting a hand to my chin as I tried to put the words together in my head. He watched me attentively, making me feel a little under pressure, but I cleared my throat regardless, and recited, "My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess."

He didn't say anything, and remained sitting, perfectly still.

Concerned by his lack of reaction, I cringed, "Did I mess it up?"

"No," he assured, with a slow smile. "That was exactly right."

"I was taught well," I returned the compliment, not meeting his eye. "So, what game are you really bad at, then?"

…

I offered a smile to an elderly lady, who teetered by on unsteady feet. She returned it tenfold with toothless gusto, her eyes almost closed. I sighed wistfully as she pulled herself up the steps into her home, equally admiring her energy and chagrined at my lack thereof.

She seemed nice. A breath of fresh air, compared to all the other neighbours who peered out from their curtains with zero tact or discretion. Gaping mouths, hushed voices ushering others to join them, the quick-but-not-quick-enough disappearances when I slowly rolled my eyes their way. I forced my eyes upwards, to a sky painted the rich colours of sunset.

The evening was a decent temperature, but more humid than I was comfortable with. The couple years of my childhood I spent in Mideel did help with my tolerance to high humidity in warm temperatures, jungle that it was, but it was still about my least favourite weather condition.

The town that housed Shinra Manor, I had discovered to my shock and dismay, wasn't just in some hidden, out-of-the-way, isolated patch of land. No, more than that, it was on a completely separate continent.

I supposed I should maybe be grateful for that. Perhaps if it was closer then someone would be keeping a closer eye on what happened. I still wasn't totally convinced this wasn't another particularly vivid dream; it just seemed too lucky. Would I really have just been stored away and forgotten about, like an ancient relic, a collector's item?

I thought of Coffin Guy, and decided that scenario wasn't beyond the realms of possibility. I tried to put it out of my mind, as I sat on my carer's patio and admired the sun setting over the rocky cliffs that surrounded this quaint, unfamiliar village.

Nibelheim, she had called it. I didn't really like the name. It seemed somehow gruff, which I supposed was appropriate given that the landscape was demolished to accommodate the town, but it seemed almost cold as well. This town of rock and dirt, with residents who lived off the land and provided for all, the able bodied dabbing the foreheads of the feverish invalids with damp cloths. Old women with squinted eyes and wide, gap-toothed grins. Kids who peeked from around corners, scattering with giggles when they were caught out, holding onto their cowboy hats.

It needed a jollier name. Not that I knew what a jolly town name might be. But that was my decision.

The door of the house opened behind me, and my carer let out a breath as she sat in the deck chair against the wall of the house. "Nice evening," she observed with an airy fondness. I voiced my agreement with a hum. "I didn't think you'd be able to make it out here."

I raised an eyebrow, reading between the lines. "Did I scare you?"

"You? Nooo," I snorted at the emphasis, the word drawn out for multiple syllables. "No, actually it was your absence that scared me. Well, scared isn't the right word. Alarmed?"

"Terrified?" I offered.

"Yeah, that works." She laughed self-deprecatingly. I decided I liked this woman, for more than just her babysitting me for the last… how long?

"How long have I been here?" I wondered aloud, curiosity piqued as a foot started immediately tapping with rapidity against the wooden floorboards.

It took her a while to answer. "Uh… about seven weeks?"

With a furrowed brow, I swivelled and gave her the stink eye. Seeing the cringe on her face didn't deter me even a little. "About seven weeks? Seven is too specific for about, does that actually mean nine, or eleven?"

Her face froze. I think my initial outraged reaction made it seem like I took it a lot worse than I did. "No, just under seven weeks— you're not shocked?"

"Should I be?" Appeased, I answered with a question, turning back around again. Leaning back on my hands, I looked at the sky. A nearby mountain peak poked a few drifting clouds, stained bold colours with the setting sun in another corner of the sky. "I was taken in winter, and what was it when you got me, early spring?" I shrugged, showing my uncertainty if the upward inflection didn't. "Warm enough now for summer, but it's only seven and the sun is setting, so the nights are still pretty short. Thought it'd be the start of summer at the latest." The climate was different from I was used to, that was for sure, but the cycles of the sun reminded me a lot of my hometown.

"Huh. I'm surprised you were awake enough to take in the weather back then, you were dead on your feet." She sounded vaguely impressed, but she had a pretty backwards way of putting it.

"It felt very important at the time," I deadpanned. She chuckled.

The sarcastic back-and-forth, the barest acknowledgment of emotion amongst it all, the dodging around important topics and the important stuff carefully left unsaid; it all felt vaguely familiar. Well, not vaguely. I held no confusion over why I took to this communication style like a duck to water.

She murmured something too softly for me to hear. "Say again?"

"You were taken?" she repeated, reverently. Stepping carefully.

"No, I went willingly," I shot back, sarcastic but light. I glanced over my shoulder at her, and gave a smile, making it clear I was open to the conversation. "You wanna know what happened?"

I knew I would in her situation. I didn't want her to feel like she had to walk on eggshells around me, so I felt it better to air it out. Plus, I didn't want to be on eggshells with myself. Made sense to face it sooner rather than later. I turned around so I was half facing her, leaning my back against the end of the fencing around the patio, elbows on my knees with hands dangling in front of me.

She nodded, looking a little reluctant in doing so, so I indulged her, and contemplated for a while how to start. "I was… in too deep, I guess. With Shinra, one of their execs or department heads or something had it out for me, their science guy. He got some dirt on me, something to hold over my head, and tried to blackmail me into giving myself to him for research." The phrasing made me feel slimy, and from the looks of my carer, she felt the same.

"Tried, though," she quoted me, "he failed to?"

"I deserted, maybe a year later. Can't remember exactly how it all went down, but I got to say goodbye to everyone that mattered, anyway." I fondly smiled at the vision of a small cheerful group of teens, exchanging hugs with them, and waving exuberantly to them from behind a dirty windowpane, the gesture returned on their part. My smile soured as the story did the same, "I didn't realise the power that man had. He blew up the train, and I was pulled out of the wreckage and taken away. And all the civilians just left there to burn."

My deep frown must've been telling. "That's not on you."

"I know," I answered with a nod. Kinda. "So he just… kept me a while, and then transported me here, to the manor I mean. I busted out not too long after, and… you know the rest."

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I knew Shinra was shady, but…" she looked into the distance after trailing off, towards the mountain. "I wish there was some other way to get by without them, but they're everywhere. They need to be taken down. But how can anyone defeat something that powerful?"

Grimly, I followed her eyes, and recognised why she looked there; an eerie green light flickering, reflecting on a small portion on the side of the closest, largest mountain. I recognised that light well enough, from the small village where I had grown up. "Mako reactor?" I questioned, though my voice was flat, not really asking because I knew the answer. She hummed to the affirmative. I sighed heavily.

Picturesque and homey as Nibelheim was, and maybe a little bit backwater, even it wasn't out of the corrupt company's reach.

"Maybe one day," I proposed in a light voice, with a shrug. "Probably people fighting back against it already. Probably people have been doing it for years. The rest of us are just waiting for them to succeed."