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Aerith watches through a prismatic tear in the world. Watches as Barret puts on his shades before gently taking up her lifeless body. As Red butts his forehead against her limp, hanging hand. As Tifa smooths auburn bangs away from her face and wipes a thumb over the wetness that drips from her cheek onto Aerith’s. Vincent stands guard by the city entrance and, beside him, Yuffie covers her face with her hands and refuses to look. Cait sits by the water’s edge, crown askew, unable to get any closer as Barret eases her body into the water. Cloud sits next to him, eyes glazed and focused on a singular point to his left.
He saved her life in here, but she can’t help him out there, not anymore. Can’t guide him toward a better ending for the Planet. Can’t keep him from hurting the others or himself.
Can’t warn him not to trust his eyes over his heart.
They stay far longer than they should—far longer than she can take. She can’t bear to move away first, so she sits and keeps vigil as her friends mourn for hours until Cid finally joins them. And then for some time after that. No one says a word.
Until, finally, Barret replaces the shades he thought he didn’t need anymore, and rallies the troops.
Aerith thought she was prepared for them to leave, thought it would be easier not seeing the heartbreak so clearly painted over their faces, but she was unprepared for the feeling of being left behind. Every last lingering look at the water—at the altar—shattering her heart all over again until there is nothing left and she is all alone.
They have a job to do, and so does she, but still the tears fall. Pricking at the corners of her eyes and leaking down her cheeks with no one but herself to wipe them away now. So she does, furiously, then steadies her breath and her trembling heart with renewed determination.
She won’t waste this once in a lifetime chance that Cloud managed to create, not when there is so much work to be done. So she reaches up to take the pulsing white materia and—feels a sharp wet stinging across her hands.
Her ribbon falls to the ground, cleaved in two.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you here?” Sephiroth’s voice croons in her ear, the long blade of his masamune stained with her blood, dribbling onto her dress as it edges closer to her throat. “Hiding again, with no one to protect you this time.”
The white materia rolls down the side of the altar, clinks down the steps one at a time, echoing, echoing, until it too fades completely away.
Aerith shuts her eyes and refuses to let another tear drop. “Maybe this is where I wanted you,” she bluffs, wills herself calm and remembers the voice of the Planet. Even if he cuts her down here, it’s not the end until the end. Even if she’s alone she’s never truly alone. Even if he wins this round she won’t go down without a fight.
And just when she decides to reach for her staff, there’s a sharp crack and a thud behind her, metal clanking to the floor.
“There you are.” It’s a voice she’d know anywhere—though it can’t be possible, it can’t—and when Aerith opens her eyes she thinks she must still be dreaming.
But it’s Zack down to the tips of his midnight black hair and eyes the color of a less terrifying sky. Zack who breathes her name like a prayer, who offers her the fallen white materia. When she takes it, she notices something achingly familiar tied around his hand.
“Guess there was a reason after all,” he muses wryly, unraveling the ribbon around his palm to fold it gently into hers. It’s then that he notices the blood—her blood—seeping into the leather of his gloves as he holds her hands in his. “Shit, Aerith—”
“It’s fine,” she laughs, she sobs, shoulders hunching and shaking as she leans into him. She’s dreamed of this moment so long a little blood won’t stop her now. The warmth of his embrace is everything she remembers, everything she’s been chasing in her dreams, everything she’s been missing for what feels like lifetimes.
“C’mon, you’ll bleed all over the ribbon he worked so hard to bring you,” a second familiar voice chides from behind.
Behind…?
Aerith reels back, catches Zack’s smile growing wide in her periphery just before turning around to face—Aerith. Standing over the unconscious form of a black-robed individual, the bottom of her staff stained red.
“Another dream?”
“No,” the other Aerith giggles like a secret, like an inside joke. “I’m Aerith!” She glances down at the robed form, nudges him with the toe of her boot, and when she seems satisfied that he’s not going to wake anytime soon, she steps over to wrap her hands around her own. Warm healing magic threads into her skin, leaving its bitter sting just a bygone memory.
“How—” Aerith tries again, because in all her lifetimes she’s never dreamed, imagined—was such a thing ever possible?
“You thought it yourself, didn’t you? That you’re never truly alone even if you’re alone.” The other Aerith releases her, runs one hand through Zack’s shaggy mane while using the other to wipe away her tears. “Now stop crying, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She winks and turns her head to the other side of the altar. “Right?”
Where several other Aeriths and Zacks are all standing by, waiting for her. As well as one silver haired boy who looks suspiciously like—
Well, even Aerith isn’t immune to being wrong sometimes. This is their once in several lifetimes’ chance.
“Right.” She nods, tying the white materia back into her hair and grabbing both Zack and Aerith by the hand. “Let’s go save the Planet!”