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exsecutus
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cretus aethere
"Are not my few days almost over? Turn away from me so I can have a moment's joy before I go to the place of no return, to the land of gloom and the shadow of death, to the land of deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even the light is like darkness."
-Job 10:20-22
I still have the dreams, but they don't bother me as much as they used to. Well, I'm not sure that's true. The awakenings used to be the most upsetting part. It's hard to explain what they were like. The feeling was so definite, so focused, that all words are much too hopelessly vague to describe it; the closest thing to it I can express in words is that-- it felt like being vomited out of a black ocean and left, pitiful, on the rocky shore of induced fact. But that's ceased to affect me. Yet the sheer horror of the dreams themselves-- that's almost gotten worse over time, like an infection.
Dreams are reality with something crucial taken out; they have always represented who I really was on the inside, sans the influence of the hell injected into my veins by Hojo and the manipulation of what I thought I was by his spawn. And back then, that scared me. I would wake up, not sit up and pant like they do in movies, but just wake up and lie there and stare at the ceiling or the stars or whatever I was sleeping under. And lie to myself.
The dreams... they weren't nightmares, at least not in the conventional sense. There were no bottomless pits, no corpses, no monsters. I can't clearly remember any of them, but I know what they were about-- who they were about.
Aeris.
I didn't ever see her or hear her in the dreams, but I know she was there. She was always there. I started having the dreams a few months before I ever met Aeris, and they didn't stop after she died-- after she was murdered. But they stand out the most in my memory during those giddy months of pursuing Sephiroth, before the Forgotten City. I was infused with her presence. I couldn't stop thinking about her; no matter what I was doing, my mind always went back to her.
I must have loved her a lot.
Was it really love that drove me to obsession with a girl from the slums one year older than myself? It wasn't lust, I can tell you that. If I had wanted someone to lust after, Tifa was certainly the object of choice. There was just something so... different about Aeris. It was a kind of abstract oddity more than it was ever a sophisticated distinction, and I was fascinated with her not as one admiring a fabulous jewel, but as one who can't bring himself to look away from the site of a horrible accident. It was almost a grotesque deformity on her part that entranced me so. No, not grotesque. I can't use that word in connection with Aeris. But it was... an anomaly. Something wrong inside her. Or, more likely, something right inside her that was wrong with the rest of the world. Aeris was always like that. Perfect in life and in death, forever untainted.
as a specimen, she is inferior
Sometimes I felt disgusted with her when she said or did something I found tasteless or naive, but I could never keep that up long. Almost immediately, I didn't feel angry with her; I only felt ashamed that I felt anything negative for her. She didn't deserve that. She had had a rough life, after all, and she was mixed up in all of this because of me... at least that's what I believed deep in my heart. These days, I'm not so sure how deep my heart goes. If I could examine the situation with the clarity of detachment, I don't know what I might realise about Aeris and her part in the crisis for the Planet. I don't know, and I am resigned to the fact that I will never know. After all, I have to be.
she is inferior to her mother
How can I measure her influence, her importance to me and what I eventually did? Her presence made my objective a little more focused, a little more reasonable, but I can't say I really believe I wouldn't have ended it the same way even if I had never met her. Perhaps it would have happened at a different time, in a different place... but with her or without her, I was going to kill Sephiroth. And I think I knew that before I ever joined AVALANCHE. Yet... it would be untrue for me to say she had no effect on me, because she did. Oh, she did. She changed the face of not my mission, not my reality, but my own existence. And as I said, she filled my mind.
It's interesting to me; what was Aeris, truly? She was an Ancient, a beautiful doll in a pink dress smiling at me and selling flowers in the slums, ignoring the pain and filth surrounding her. Did she ignore it because she was so phenomenally above such mundane sufferings, or because... such detachment made it easier to maintain the person she had crafted herself into? Or did she truly, simply not care?
One of the last times that... I was with her... it was in the Temple of the Ancients. We saw Tseng on the floor drenched in his own blood... Aeris said it hit her. She had her back to us... and I asked her if she was crying. She shook her head, but when she turned around I saw something glittering in her eyes; at the time I mistook it for tears. I was glad that Tseng was dying, but still for her-- for her I was trying not to let it show too much. But I wondered why she didn't heal Tseng if he meant so damned much to her anyway... She was so cold. Sometimes she would turn those eyes on you and your blood would freeze in your veins. The hard emeralds of her irises sank into you like daggers... and then, at once, they would soften and melt and laugh all at once, and you relaxed and wondered if maybe you had imagined it. I still think maybe I did.
And then there was the Forgotten City.
The vision I had when she disappeared wasn't one of the dreams, but it's embedded in my soul just the same. She told me she was going to the City of the Ancients to do something only she could, and said I shouldn't worry... I know she didn't think I wouldn't worry. She wanted me to worry. And when she smiled her eyes shone greener than ever. I can remember. When I was in the vision itself I felt only a lethargic calmness, but the second I awoke I could sense nothing but the convulsive panic clutching my heart. I was dizzy, my sight was dazed and my mind foggy, and I ran blindly to her, shattering whatever stood in my way, cursing God and everyone as I stumbled across the tumult of my world. And when I got to her...
She looked up at me and smiled with eyes that were at once stone and syrup. I could see she truly cared about me in that instant... it was a moment of light-headed sweetness dancing in my mind. And then I saw something else in her eyes... something frightening... the chilling revelation that she didn't care about anyone else...
The next second I saw ten feet of white-hard, bright-cold glittering metal slice gently through her back, through the pink dress, staining it crimson as the tip protruded from her abdomen. Not yet dead, she continued to look at me. Aeris didn't know she was going to die; of that, at least, I can be certain. But in that moment, a faint smile played on her lips...
...as if death amused her.
And the last thing I saw in her eyes before she rent herself from the broken doll was a secretive, idle, vindictive blaze that seared through my chest and whispered up into my ice-pounding head: Remember me. I'll make sure you remember me.
She knew I couldn't forget her. Did she know I would want to?
I guess the bottom line is that Aeris showed me what I really was, Aeris made me into what I really was. She did it because she... loved me. But the love of an Ancient is something different. And today I suppose she's wandering the Elysian fields, content in her Promised Land, and she probably knows what I'm thinking... what I'm doing. I can almost hear her laughing with that silvery voice.
Ever since that day, I have remembered Aeris. I think about her every day and dream about her at night. And I just want her to get the hell out of my head, my mind, my heart...
Maybe that's why I'm standing here today, having a staredown with an oak panelled door while the stink of destitution tugs at my clothes. It's been a long time since I've been back to Midgar, even longer since I visited this church. It has to end, I tell myself. What has to end? Does it matter anymore?
I push open the door and walk inside, feet thumping dully on the dirt floor. The musty smell, the rotting pews, the spectral gleam of dust through the skylight, even the bed of dainty, perfect flowers posing like sugar ornaments in the soft grey loam; it's all the same. I wouldn't know the difference between the church today or... then, though God knows everything else has changed. Except that then, somebody was caring for these flowers because there wasn't anything else for her to care about. Damn those flowers. Why won't they die?
Well, something's a little different. Those kids are gone. Maybe they're at school, or doing one of the more worthwhile things introduced to Midgar by Reeve during the past few months. The city has a long way to go, but...
This isn't why I'm here.
As I approach the altar, dirt replaces the worn wooden floorboards underfoot. I'm almost in the patch of sunlight now. I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly. Before I even reach the flower bed, I know Aeris isn't here anymore. I can't talk to her from here, can't make her leave me alone... I don't feel her presence in this building anymore. It was here a few months ago. She must have moved on...
So why am I still having the dreams?
I kneel on the deadened warmth of the steps leading to the flower bed, the top of my head bathed in light. The vibrant pinks and yellows of the flowers are dimmed by the obscuring beam of sunlight, tiny specks of dust floating and swirling gently, like angel glitter. I wish I had a reason to die.
I almost don't hear the quiet footsteps tapping the wood with methodical precision behind me, advancing in a way that is artistically designed to weave through my heartbeat and smooth over my instincts. A Turk's footsteps.
They stop behind me and a hollow silence descends on the little church. I slowly turn around, pushing myself further into the light where the radiant warmth caresses my skin. Lifting my head, I glance idly at the Turk. Long black hair. Impassive eyes. I don't bother noticing anything else before dropping my gaze to the floor.
"Damn you, Ixion," I say listlessly. "What do you want now?"
"Cloud," the Turk responds in a measured tone.
"Go away," I reply in a hiss, my face bending into a childish scowl, eyes still on the ground. "I hate you. Go away."
"You don't hate me, Cloud."
"Yes I do. Get the hell out of here before I make you. Get out of Aeris's church. You don't belong here."
"Cloud," the Turk says again, damn him why won't he go away-- "Cloud, it's me."
Blankly, I shade my eyes and stare at his face. He's standing perfectly straight and looking down at me.
"Oh," I say wearily. "It's you. Vincent."
He doesn't answer for a while. I don't feel embarrassed at my misinterpretation. I wonder why not.
"This needs to stop, Cloud." Yes, I see now. His voice comes out an even tenor, totally unlike Tseng's low, sly phonation, intoxicating in its fluidity. And Tseng is dead. A thin smile plays on my lips. I stare at the floor.
"Cloud," Vincent repeats, louder this time. I look up at him.
"Yes?" I respond. I'm smiling freely now.
"You're an idiot, Strife," he remarks calmly, the fingers on his claw shifting comfortably and creating a slight rustling noise. He opens his mouth to say more but I interrupt as I feel hot anger rushing through my veins like blood and bursting in my throat. I hate Vincent in that instant almost as much I hate who I thought he was.
"Oh yeah, I'm a real hell of an idiot, aren't I, Vincent? I guess you're wondering what I think I'm doing. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Vincent, okay? Just leave me the hell alone."
"Overusing the word 'hell,' aren't you?" he says flatly.
"I wish you would go there," I answer quietly, flicking at some dirt.
"No need to fret. I already have."
I take a deep breath and look back up at the utter dichotomy of white and black that is his face, winding myself down, wondering what he wants.
"I want you to know that this mindless game of yours is tearing Tifa apart," he states levelly. He read my mind, didn't he? Damn Turks.
"Tifa?" I ask dully.
"Yes, Tifa," he answers, smooth expression twisted with repugnance for just a moment. "Everyone wonders if you're just so stupid you can't tell how she feels, or if you don't care."
"Everyone wonders that, do they?" I muse. I wonder if I can make Vincent angry. That would be interesting.
"I really don't think you'll pay any more attention to me than you have to the others," he concedes at length. "However, Tifa asked me try."
"Tifa asked you to do this, huh? And you'll do anything Tifa asks you to, won't you, Vincent?"
He looks down at me with unfeigned distaste on his face. "Your pathetic attempts to make me angry only accentuate your own miserable condition."
"So what if they do?" I mutter almost inaudibly. "Tell Tifa to find someone who's not me. She deserves better."
"Of course she does, Strife," Vincent confirms matter-of-factly. "The lowliest whore deserves better than you. But Tifa doesn't want better. And since it's fairly obvious you do have some feelings for her, there's nothing but your own stupidity standing between you and as happy a life as you deserve with her. The rest of them don't enjoy watching you making both yourself and Tifa miserable because you won't get your pride out of the way."
"Tired?"
"Excuse me?"
"I don't think you've ever said that many words at a time before. I was wondering if it drained you."
He searches my face, with, I think, a touch of pity in his eyes. I feel a sudden wave of shame. I exhale frustratedly and pull my right knee up to my chin, hunching over with the sun still filling the air around me.
"Goodbye, Cloud," Vincent says mildly. I don't look up. A moment later I hear the Turk footsteps retreating.
I wait until I'm sure he's left the church. "Good riddance," I mutter, adjusting my chin on my knee. Then I jerk upright and clench my fist at the door. "Good F***ING RIDDANCE!!" I scream, a hysterical sense of fear and rage seizing control of my body. The sunlight feels sticky and hot, too hot. I awkwardly rise to my feet and slump over in one of the pews, arms hanging limp and utterly helpless at my sides. 'Lowliest whore,' eh? I think of Tifa somewhere crying for me in that ridiculous outfit. "About right," I croak faintly. The words stick in my throat behind my mouth, choking me as I say them.
Within seconds Tifa is pushed from my mind. The place carved out by Aeris and meant only for Aeris is filled rightfully once again. I hate her. I hate her! Yes, I was obsessed with her. I was obsessed with Sephiroth too. I bury my face in my hands and cry tearlessly, a stale gasping and choking, my wretched heart clamped in the throes of agony, because I shouldn't... hate... Aeris. I have to love Aeris... I have to make Aeris sacred and holy, I have to keep her and treasure her in the inmost part of my being. I can't hate her any more than I could single-handedly stop Meteor from crushing the Planet.
But if I can't talk to her from this church, where can I go?
Suddenly the answer hits me and I slump over further with despair. No. No. Please, no. It's the obvious solution, yes. But it's not what I want. Her church, Midgar, fine. But I don't ever want to go back to the Forgotten City.
Why not?
I have always hated the City of the Ancients. I hated it even before I was given a good reason. Walking on paths, opening doors, sleeping in beds that hadn't been used by their rightful owners in thousands of years-- not only was it damned creepy, but it just felt so completely wrong. Maybe the Ancients didn't want anyone besides their own ever to lay eyes on their city, and maybe they wanted it to stay forgotten forever. Even if they didn't, I wish it had. We just weren't supposed to be there, whether the Ancients themselves thought so or not. I felt it. Somehow it seems worse now. I'm not going to save the life of a woman I may have loved, and I'm not going to save the Planet. The only reason I'm going now is... for myself, one way or another.
I have to remind myself that there's nothing there but a body. Whose body it is doesn't matter, can't matter right now, or she'll... what? What will she do? Love me forever? God, I'm messed up! In the end it won't make any difference whether I wanted to go or not, so I rise to my feet and let her pull me to herself.
Unlike Aeris, I have to climb out of this filth manually. It's not a long trek back to the surface, but... It's long enough. The Forgotten City is so far from here... the journey will take days, weeks perhaps. And the whole thing is excruciatingly real. Why can't it be a blur, a dreamlike haze? Why do I have to live the whole thing as if it were something I wanted to do, something I did on purpose? Is it because she wants me to do this on purpose?
smile for me, beloved, because I need you to heal me
I'm sore. I make myself forget how long I've been walking. I know that I still have the Lunar Harp... Even so, I'll have to take the long way, but I think it's better like this.
my heart with a flower my mind with a promise my soul with a dream
So is this how it's going to be for me? The only true love of the survivor who destroyed the last vestiges of her entire race when she died-- Is that what I am? And is that all I am?
need you
I run.
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