Work Text:
Cloud brought Fenrir to a stop amidst the ruins of the city before killing the engine, kicking the stand out, and swinging his leg over the bike. The heel of his scuffed boots scattered the dry soil as he walked, causing dust to rise. He took strange comfort in the scent of the crumbling earth that was oddly familiar—even in the open air, it smelled musty and stale, much like the entirety of Midgar nowadays.
As he laid his hand against the church door, he could imagine the rough surface of the peeling paint beneath his fingers—he had touched it with his bare hands hundreds of times before, and would probably touch it thousands of times more. With a push, the wooden doors creaked open and he inhaled the fresh fragrance of the lilies that grew unrestrained in the only patch of fertile soil in the dilapidated city.
His tension drained away at the sight of her, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward.
He watched Aerith tend to her flower garden from afar with rapt fascination—the way the tips of fingers grazed the petals, the way her eyes brightened when she smiled, the way she spoke so softly to lilies that the words were barely audible even to him. Quietly, not wanting to disturb her, Cloud took one step inside before letting the door close behind him.
With the soft golden light spilling through the broken roof and onto her kneeling figure, she looked ethereal. His eyes couldn’t stop staring—couldn’t help but notice all her little quirks as she focused all her attention on the patch of flowers ahead. He took great comfort in his newly-found hobby; it wasn’t often he could look at her without being teased. It certainly didn’t help that even after all these months, he still found it hard to believe that she was really here.
He took a step closer to her as the worn wooden floorboards groaned ominously beneath his boots, and he stopped in his tracks to quell the incessant and irrational fear swarming inside him. Still, a small part of him almost expected that she would vanish from his eyes the moment he walked a little too close.
He knew it had happened before—had happened during the other time.
Letting out a ragged breath with his hands clenched into fists at his side, he fought to contain his dread as panic began to gnaw at him. Logically, he knew she was alive and breathing and safe—that he had never laid her to rest in the lake this time around. But it didn’t help that his mind could draw up the image so clearly , almost as if the vivid thought was etched into his memory.
“Thinking silly thoughts again, huh?”
He blinked, the sound of her voice snapping him back to reality, before allowing himself a deep breath of relief. Mustering the most nonchalant expression he could, he shrugged as he started walking towards her again.
As she stood up and dusted the dirt off her dress, she cast him an exasperated look. It didn’t escape her notice that he was deliberately ignoring her question, but he also knew she wasn’t the type to push. He liked this about her, and was eternally grateful for it. She let him have his space when there was something on his mind, and he always knew that at the end of the day, she would be there to listen when he was ready to talk.
“Thought I’d find you here again,” he said instead, changing the topic. “What did the flowers say today?”
Shaking her head, and unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile, she took the two steps necessary to reach him before wrapping her arms around his waist. He felt the puff of her breath against his chest, felt her fingers curl against his back, and felt the familiar warmth radiating off her.
His tension melted away the moment she was in his arms.
“That it’s a special day today,” Aerith said cryptically as she pulled back just enough to see his eyes. They were so close that their foreheads were touching; he could smell the earthy scent of the damp soil, mingled with the sweet floral fragrance emanating from her. The sparkle in her eyes were so mesmerizing that he couldn’t pull his gaze away, and he hoped she never stopped looking at him like this. Their breaths mingled, and for a moment, he thought about leaning in closer and pressing his lips to hers.
“How special?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
A distant, thoughtful look crossed her face. “I’m waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“Mhmm. For someone.” Then, with a cheeky grin, she pulled back from his embrace to spin around, picking up the empty wicker basket that she would no doubt fill with flowers to bring to Tifa. With her back on her knees, she began cutting the flowers with slow, deliberate snips as she hummed to herself—it sounded awfully like the Gold Saucer theme song.
Cloud knew that it was pointless to keep asking the questions that were burning on the tip of his tongue. He knew better than to push any further, because she was just like him in this regard; she would answer the question when it was the right time for her to. Grabbing the extra pair of gardening shears that lay next to her, he began to do the same, falling into a companionable silence.
“You know,” she said suddenly before immediately trailing off; it sounded like she was uncertain and lost in thought, and he remained silent, allowing her time to gather her words. Her gaze was tender and far, far away as she looked past the collapsed wall of the church, towards the distant horizon. A soft smile rested on her lips, and as the sun’s reflection caught her luminous eyes; he could have sworn a flash of sadness flicker behind them for a split second.
“I thought after surviving destiny—outrunning fate—I could finally breathe easy. Turns out, I was sorely mistaken,” Aerith murmured, her fingers fiddling with the flowers. He heard the self-doubt in her words, heard the loneliness and fear and vulnerability, and he forced himself not to react to them. It had been difficult for her, living a life that should not have been, and it certainly didn’t help that she still had memories of the life that should have been. His arms itched to hold her and to comfort her.
“It’s both a curse and a blessing to start with a clean slate. It’s almost like a blank canvas, you know? Where I can paint it however I want,” she continued, her gaze flickering to him just briefly before lowering to her fidgeting hands. “There weren’t any Turks waiting for me once Midgar was evacuated, no scientists to run experiments on me, and no world for me to save. For the first time in my life, I was free to do whatever I wanted, and the freedom—the uncertainty—was both exhilarating and horrifying. But... the fact that I was no longer bound by destiny, that was more terrifying to me than anything.”
“Aerith…”
She shook her head, a small, quiet laugh escaping. “And that’s why I’m waiting,” she explained, shooting him a smile. “Because even through the uncertainties, there are still things—flashes of memories—that I still remember.”
Dropping the shears, he brushed his gloved fingers over the back of her hand before threading them through hers. “I’m here.”
Her smile widened as she squeezed his hand. “I know.”
He loved her—loved the way she faced head on with a smile on her face despite how much she had gone through. He hadn't admitted it out loud yet, especially since he was still getting used to thinking, let alone talking about these sorts of things… But he knew that someday, somehow, someway, he was going to tell her.
“Are you ready to go home?”
She nodded, beaming up at him. “Yep!”
It didn’t take long for them to clean up. With the basket full of lilies in the crook of her arm and her other hand entwined in his, she dragged him outside the church doors, her good mood returning. Except the scene in front of him stopped him in his tracks.
A young boy was fiddling with his PHS that he had left behind, with seemingly no particular purpose. Deep down, Cloud knew in the pit of his soul that he knew this boy. Despite not being able to put a name to the boy’s face, he felt a warm, affectionate feeling towards this person he had never met or seen before.
Aerith’s fingers tightened momentarily around his, her gaze never once leaving the young boy.
“Cloud, I’d like you to meet someone.”