Disclaimer: Again, I don’t own any character of Final Fantasy, any of them, much to my dismay (I wish I could own pre-psycho Sephiroth all to me, but it cannot be).

This fanfict has been inspired by the song of Yann Tiersen, “Comptine d’un Autre Étè”.

Many thanks to everyone for their encouragement, corrections and ideas.

Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 28.

"Oh Adam's sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good!"

Aslan in "The Magician’s Nephew" - The Chronicles of Narnia (C. S. Lewis.)

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South of the Junon Area there was an island; save for the military base set at the Northern part it was completely deserted. That fact and the tropical climate contributed to create a dense jungle and, since Mako didn’t reach the required levels for a reactor’s activity, the zone was unexplored and unexploited, except for the few botanical expeditions to study the rare species of flowers and trees.

Masamune cut easily the many bushes and branches blocking their way. They had arrived at dawn at the military base, sneaking again inside a plane, and spent the morning walking among the vegetation. Aerith wasn’t so distant by the time they were outside the base and that was something, but she still refused to make eye contact with him.

He couldn’t blame her, however, for he had seen her eyes filled with embarrassment, bewilderment and longing, though he doubted that last part and wondered if it wasn’t a trick of his own mind.

He pushed away those thoughts and concentrated on finding the Temple. After he had retrieved what Mother required they would have to travel to the North Crater, and that trip would take them a good deal of time. Maybe then he would be able to make some progress finding a way to save Aerith and fulfill at the same time Mother’s wishes.

Mother’s wishes.

Doubt assailed him again. He wanted to rely on Mother, but there were things that didn’t fit into place. She only said she wanted to cleanse the Planet, but never stated how exactly she was going to do so. She said she needed to gather souls and that she needed Aerith’s powers, and it was more than probable that she would die in the process, but never revealed why it had to be that girl, the last descendant of the Cetra, when the souls of her ancestors surely still lingered in the Lifestream.

And he didn’t want that to happen. Someway he had come attached to the girl and he didn’t want to lose her, but no matter how much time he spent thinking, inspiration didn’t come.

Mother didn’t communicate with him since that night on the cliff, when she had punished him. And he didn’t miss it. It was disturbing the way she intruded in his mind and saw what she wished, even his deepest doubts; and how she could make his attacks come back, when she had promised to cure him.

His musing was interrupted when Aerith touched lightly his arm. He looked down, mildly surprised at her behavior, for she had avoided any kind of contact lately. To his questioning glance, she averted her eyes shyly, but it was clear that she was greatly disturbed, and that apparently the source wasn’t him.

“I… I feel something,” she said.

“Something like what?” he asked. She had stopped and was trying not to tremble.

“I don’t know, it’s strange,” she said hugging herself and rubbing her arms as if she was freezing, which was almost impossible in that warm environment.

“The Temple of the Ancients was constructed by your people,” he explained. “Maybe what you feel are the remains of the magic they used to protect it.”

Aerith looked at him with her eyes full of fear. Sephiroth extended one had to her.

“You will be safe with me,” he assured her.

As she timidly extended her hand, he questioned himself about that last statement. He squeezed lightly her tiny hand as they walked together, trying to think fast about what he could possibly do about their situation. Leaving her behind was a possibility, but with her friends heading in the opposite direction thanks to his instructions to Dio it would be very difficult. Maybe in their travel to the North he could leave her in Midgar again, or whatever place she chose.

Yes, that would work, at least for a time, until he could convince Mother that the girl was not necessary.

He smiled slightly at the irony of their situation as she walked by his side, now with her two hands grasping his own. Whatever it was what she felt in the air made her cling to him for protection. How could she think that she would be safe with him when he was still carrying her to her death?

He had never felt protective or caring in his entire life, from what he remembered, but now he experienced practically the urge to take her and run far, very far away, to where no one could ever find them.

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They got out at last from the mass of vegetation to come across with a massive pyramidal construction, surrounded by what looked like a natural trench, with a hanging bridge connecting the structure to the jungle. A flight of steps rose from the base to the entrance, the only aperture in the whole building.

Sephiroth himself had a sense of foreboding, as if what was inside the pyramid was not meant to be disturbed. Still, he remembered that Mother had entrusted him that mission because she relied on his capabilities. They would be safe.

But it wasn’t anything about them being in peril that made him reluctant to enter. He had always been sure about what he was doing for Mother. Now he was afraid, not for the first time in the last days, about discovering that his increasing doubts would prove to be founded.

They crossed the hanging bridge and climbed the stairs. The Keystone already buzzed lightly in his pocket, as if sensing its place of origin.

When they crossed the threshold only a small room greeted them. There was a platform and a little altar at the end of the space and several columns arrayed along each sidewall. Sephiroth approached the place with Aerith next to him. She said nothing, but she was trembling almost visibly and she looked as if she were ill. They ought to be out of there as soon as possible.

The Keystone was placed upon the semi-spherical carving and began to glow intensely. Then the altar began to tremble and move, retracting until it was buried in the wall, opening a staircase leading down the building. It wasn’t pitch-black, though; as they walked down the first corridor they saw that there were torches alight, whose source had to be magical. After that they had to go down again and turn, to walk down a longer passage, and more stairs leading to the depths of the Temple. At the end of a very long corridor there was a room, and it seemed like they had reached the end of their way.

It was a rectangular chamber, with columns arrayed at each side of the central path and torches placed on each pillar. Aerith felt nauseated when they entered; sitting on a marble altar there was a sphere, larger than any Materia and darker than the deepest of shadows. She knew the source of her discomfort was that black sphere, and she knew that it was another kind of Materia, but it concentrated too much malignancy for her to stand.

Soon she forgot about the altar and about her giddiness, because Sephiroth had let go of her hands and was staring at the painted murals. There were ancient carvings and pictures all along the walls, and strange inscriptions under them. Soon she knew what they meant: they told the story of the Calamity from the Skies, just as her mother had told her so long ago. And there was more.

According to the carvings, someone misused the Black Materia’s power and something was called: Meteor. It crashed upon the Planet, wounding it severely. And inside that meteor was a creature: Jenova, the Calamity from the Skies.

After Jenova’s arrival, ghosts of the deceased ones appeared to the living, attracting them to where the meteor had crashed, and then she infected them, turning those people into monsters. It developed just as her mother had taught her. After that there was another picture of a great creature connected to the ground; it had four wings and it seemed to leech the Lifestream out of the Planet. Under that being and over the face of the earth there was a winged and horned beast, harvesting the souls of the living.

She had seen them in her dreams over the last days, but she still didn’t know what they were or what purpose they served.

They followed many other images of people gathered for preaching around a green Materia, inside a seashell-like building, and then many people gathered for battle outside it. Leading the army was a feminine figure, with golden lock and clad in a white tunic and golden armor; she wielded a bow made of silver and a blue stone hung from her neck.

Aerith looked at Sephiroth. He had his eyes fixed upon the army’s enemy: Another female figure ruling over hordes of monsters and attached to the giant four-winged beast, but this woman had two black bat-like wings, her gown was made with the souls of the dead, she wielded a staff and her locks were silver.

Silver locks.

Jenova.

Aerith shivered at the realization. That monster was what he called “mother”.

“So the story was true,” he whispered.

She couldn’t see his face, and couldn’t think of what she should say. Aerith watched him as he walked to the Black Materia’s altar, standing just few steps away.

“She said this could aid her to cleanse the Planet,” he said aloud, though the girl wondered if he was really speaking for her. His voice was toneless, void.

All of a sudden, Sephiroth kneeled and punched the stone floor with a loud growl, making a hole and cracking the stone slabs around his fist. Aerith flinched at his outburst, not knowing if she wanted to run away or to go to him. He stood there, breathing hard, before hiding his face behind the punching hand.

That was all, he was broken. He had lived out of his own delusions, believing what Jenova had told him, maybe because he really needed to believe in something, and that abomination hadn’t planned that the very place what held what she wanted might contain as well the key to uncover her deception.

Maybe now he would let her go. Maybe now he would understand at last that she was right, that Jenova was an enemy. She knew she should be happy about that.

But the truth was that she couldn’t feel that way, not even if she tried.

“I’m sorry,” she dared to mutter.

He got up without looking at her.

“Why?” he asked, still emotionless. “You have won. You were right.”

“But you’re suffering because of it,” she said, realizing as she did so how much his turbulence affected her.

The swordsman turned to her. His face was grim, but his eyes softened upon locking on hers.

“I was wrong,” he said and, for the first time, instead of a mere glimpse, Aerith fully saw the human beneath his mask of stone. He was hurt beyond words, in his heart and in his pride.

And it pained her to see him that way.

She shook her head and approached him until she was at arm’s reach.

“Jenova tricked many of my people,” she said. “But it’s good that you saw it in time.”

He smiled softly, the first true smile she had ever seen on him, free of malice or bitterness, but full of sorrow.

“Then what you told me might prove true,” he said, referring to her pendant.

She smiled back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I should be the one thanking you,” he said.

Aerith gazed at him; her eyes were a bit teary.

“Then let’s get out,” she said

He nodded and she giggled.

Aerith took one of his hands and began to drag him merrily towards the exit, when Sephiroth heard a soft click in the distance and he caught a glimpse of something shinning in the far end of the tunnel.

A thunder exploded inside the passage and Aerith fell backwards. He could only catch her in his arms as she fell. She was white and her eyes were closed, all her features relaxed. Soon he understood what had happened: A bullet-hole tore her garments, which now were stained in crimson red, right above her heart.

He was speechless, his breath caught in his throat. He heard footsteps behind him, emerging from the passage, and he turned his head, still cradling her.

There he was in his dark suit, smirking at him, triumphant at last.

“You made it quite hard for me,” Tseng said. “But it was worth it.”

Sephiroth laid Aerith’s body gently on the stone floor and stood apart from her, Masamune now in his hand, humming softly.

“Why?” he grunted, though his voice wasn’t filled with anger. He didn’t feel anything now, just a cold calm. Now nothing meant anything for him, not Jenova, or Meteor, or even the Planet itself.

“I just felt like it,” said Tseng, aiming now at him and still smiling. “She was fun to kill, despite the fact that the Company needed her. But I could always blame you. You are the monster, remember? Made to serve us, nothing more. And, besides, who would believe a monster could have such soft feelings towards a woman?”

Sephiroth lunged towards him, Masamune singing with blood-lust. Tseng fired, but the swordsman parried each bullet with his sword. Only the glow in his green eyes told of his anger and wrath.

The blow was precise and strong, making Tseng kneeling and then falling to the stone floor. He wasn’t dead, though. Sephiroth had been most careful not to kill him at once. Masamune was thirsty, and he was going to quench that thirst as slowly as Tseng’s vitality would allow it.

This pain. This void. I felt this before, didn’t I?

I did. I can’t remember when or how, but I did.

He lifted his sword again. He was going to paralyze him, and then he would tear each limb, one by one, as painfully as possible.

He heard a scream behind him.

“Sephiroth, no!”

Sephiroth spun around. Aerith was lying on her side, clutching her left shoulder and looking at him with her face twisted in pain and desperation.

Forgetting Tseng completely, he sheathed his sword and rushed to her side, lifting her body delicately to his lap. She whimpered at the movement, but he cradled her, trying to calm her. The swordsman noted how the pendant glowed dully. Surely its protection was what saved her.

“Sephiroth,” she whispered, “Tseng…”

“Tseng is not dead,” he replied, keeping her close to him. “I didn’t kill him.”

“Thanks,” she said.

He heard footsteps again, this time they were hurried as someone entered the room.

“Oh my goodness! Tseng!” cried a feminine voice.

He turned his head and saw a blonde girl dressed as a Turk over Tseng’s body. She was checking for vital signs quickly; then she stripped off her jacket to try to contain the hemorrhage, when she looked up.

Her honey eyes widened as she drew out her gun, aiming at Sephiroth. She didn’t notice Aerith, for the swordsman was blocking her view.

More footsteps.

“Elena, what… holy shit!” a redheaded Turk cried upon seeing the scene. Another Turk, bald and dark-skinned followed him, but he didn’t say a thing.

Reno and Rude.

Reno followed the line of Elena’s aim and his aqua eyes widened in surprise. As an answer to his unspoken question, Sephiroth got up and turned, carrying the wounded Aerith in his arms. Elena gasped, withdrawing her gun moments after.

“Elena, how’s him?” asked Reno.

“He is still alive,” answered Sephiroth. “He should thank Aerith that I spared his life, but he won’t survive too long if you don’t take him out of here.”

The redhead signaled to Rude and the tall man went to take Tseng in his arms. He and Elena hurried down the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the distance, fading away and leaving them at last in silence.

Reno stared at the pair. Aerith looked too still.

“Is she…?” he began.

“She is alive,” said Sephiroth stiffly. His eyes left no doubt about what he intended to do to anyone who dared to threaten the girl’s life.

“Good. Tell her…” the redhead began, quite serious for what he remembered of him. “Tell her that it wasn’t his fault. Hojo began to experiment with him and he turned our boss into a psychotic bastard.”

Aerith gasped softly in the swordsman’s arms, so softly only he could have heard her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop him,” Reno continued as he strode backwards towards the exit. “Just… take care of her, ok?”

He turned around and began running after his comrades. Only when his footsteps died away, did Sephiroth began to move towards the exit too. Aerith sniffed softly. He didn’t need to look down to see that she was crying, and he didn’t need to muse to know that those tears were of joy.

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When they emerged from the Temple the Turks had already departed. Sephiroth led Aerith to a tranquil clearing to tend her wound.

As he carried her, Sephiroth had time to think back to the moment when he had thought she was dead. His chest tightened remembering how pale she was, how her blood stained her clothes, and he instinctively squeezed her gently against him. She hadn’t fainted, which was good, but also she didn’t utter a word, but he blamed it on the pain and the shock.

They came at last to a clearing. He gently laid her on the grass, and began examining her wound.

“It’s not possible!” he gasped, bewildered.

The bullet wasn’t in her shoulder, as he had thought when he found out that she was alive. Tseng aimed for her heart and he hadn’t missed. Still, the bullet hadn’t even entered completely, and the flat rear of the projectile was visible through the blood, being at the same level as the skin.

“I’ll have to extract it,” he told her.

Aerith nodded, already biting her lower lip.

“Hold on to me,” he said.

She complied, grabbing his lapels and squeezing her eyes shut. He held her on his lap with one arm around her, to prevent her movements, the other free to cure her.

The pain when his fingers invaded the wound was burning, searing; she bite her lip, trying to contain a scream, while her feet thrashed in agony. Her upper body wasn’t moving, though, for his grip was adamant. But she couldn’t contain it for long and she let out a cry, just when he removed at last the bullet. She was left trembling, teary and exhausted in his arms and only when she heard him whisper a curative spell did she open her eyes.

“It’s over,” he told her.

She smiled at him weakly and, to his surprise, she sneaked her arms around his neck, embracing him.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much for saving me, and for not killing Tseng.”

He said nothing. He had really wanted, not only to kill him, but to torture him beyond endurance. Sephiroth hugged her back, trying not to think about how much Tseng’s words had settled on him.

Who would believe a monster could have such soft feelings towards a woman?

“Sephiroth?”

Aerith had broken apart from him a little and now she was gazing at him. There was worry in her green eyes.

“What happened?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

He helped her to stand up. She hadn’t lost much blood from the wound, despite the delicate spot.

“I think you should wear the pendant,” she said all of a sudden.

He tried to protest, but she took it off before he could say a thing and offered it to him.

“You said it might be true, right?” she beamed.

Sephiroth looked at the small sphere. The first time it touched his skin it left him dazed and having those strange visions, which had stopped on their way to the Temple, as abruptly as they had come.

Deciding there was nothing to lose, he reached for it and took it from her outstretched hands. Nothing happened so far, so he gathered more resolution and put it around his neck. Still, nothing happened; it didn’t shine or react in any way this time upon touching his bare chest.

Aerith sighed and closed her eyes, disappointed. Sephiroth also felt the same way, though his face didn’t betray any emotion.

“I don’t understand,” she said, looking at the pendant in bewilderment.

He snorted softly, smiling with resignation. He was not the one, obviously. He couldn’t be, anyway; he was just a synthetic being, created in a laboratory and destined for a life of servitude.

“Maybe she’s just being lazy,” she mused, pouting as she was thinking aloud.

“Lazy?”

“Remember that this is a soul, she can feel and she knows where she is and who’s wearing the stone. But I don’t understand why she’s doing nothing right now.”

Aerith was going to say anything more, but Sephiroth grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her behind him as he unsheathed Masamune; moments after that she heard a rustle of vegetation and voices coming towards them and one of them made her shiver in recognition. She peered around Sephiroth’s waist just in time to see the mass of foliage trembling and being broken apart, as several people stomped their way into the clearing.

“Cloud!” she called with joy, though Sephiroth forced her again behind him.

“Aerith!” the blond man answered, sword ready. All his companions, whose majority Aerith didn’t know, readied their weapons. “Let her go,” Cloud growled.

Sephiroth was silent for long moments, only pointing at them with his sword. The entire group was holding their breath, expecting him to attack any time.

To their surprise, he only chuckled.

Without looking, he grabbed Aerith’s arm and pushed her towards them. Tifa retrieved the girl and shielded her with her body.

“Take her,” said Sephiroth in a mocking tone. “I won’t need her anymore.”

Aerith couldn’t believe what she heard. She stood behind Tifa, staring at him in utter disbelief, not wanting to pay credit to what she was witnessing.

“What about the Black Materia?” asked Cloud.

“That’s none of your concern,” replied the silver haired man.

“Give it back!” yelled Barret.

“Don’t push your luck,” Sephiroth hissed menacingly, though his face calmed quickly. “I have no time to play around with fops like you,” he continued, sheathing his sword. “There are more important matters that require my attention.”

And, turning around, he disappeared through the foliage.

When he was gone, the entire group let out a sigh of relief.

Aerith only noticed that she was surrounded by people when Tifa hugged her tightly.

“We are so glad you’re ok!” she exclaimed.

They broke apart. Tifa was clearly happy and relieved, as was Cloud next to her.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” he said, and then he grew serious. “We heard a scream, are you all right?”

Aerith nodded and smiled.

“Yeah, he was curing me.”

“What did ya say?” asked Barret. “I thought he was gonna kill ya!”

“No, he wasn’t, he saved me from Tseng. Twice,” and she pointed to the bullet hole in her clothes.

“As much as I find these reencounters quite heart-warming, I think we should go back to the plane to talk.”

The one who talked so wisely was Nanaki and, since all of them were rather annoyed either by mosquitoes, or the humidity, or the heat, or some combination of them, they followed his counsel. Aerith was politely introduced to the new members as they walked. She greeted them and then she fell silent, not willing to share the others’ lively chat.

The girl couldn’t forget the almost imperceptible flicker of sadness in his green catlike eyes before he disappeared in the jungle, or how the blue pendant started to twinkle back to life at last when he was leaving.

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