Back to You

It was in a cold, Spring rain, that she felt him disappear.

There was a time that she would be happy to see the rain. In the slums, freshwater was hard to come across, a needed nourishment for her flowers.

Now, the very sight, the sound, only served to remind her.

As the last living Ancient, Aerith knew that she shouldn't have felt sadness. She understood better than anyone that his life would return to the Planet, becoming the soil upon fresh flowers and plants would bloom. In Spring, a time of rebirth and new life, it seemed fitting.

As much as she wanted to forget, his presence still lingered.

Streams of light broke through the hole he'd left in the Church's roof, illuminating the darkened, drab pews. It drew her gaze upward, catching a glimpse of the sky. The colour of those eyes she'd lost herself in.

A reminder of the void left in her heart.

The ribbon holding back her hair, she couldn't bear to take out. The brightly coloured pastel she would dress in, hoping maybe one day it might guide him back to her. Holding up her end of the bargain for the next time they met.

The flower cart he'd built for her, now collecting dust in the attic. She still sold the flowers. Even if the idea had been his, it seemed a waste. The money she made was helpful to her mom, and the kids at the Leaf House. The flowers were popular around Midgar, they made the city brighter, the people happier.

.

With time, she'd come to appreciate the Summer more.

It might seem odd for a florist. Summer was a time when growing could be challenging, the earth was cracked and lacking in moisture. The harsh conditions often left plant life to shrivel and die, but it didn't bother Aerith.

She was confident and trusted in the resilience of her flowers.

But, most of all, she took solace in knowing that Summer was the furthest point from that cold, Spring rain that had taken him.

Aerith would still come to the Church each day, the place they had first met. Though, the sound of the doors being pushed open wouldn't tug at the pit of her chest, anymore.

She had learnt not to get her hopes up too much.

Usually, it meant another visit from Tseng or one of the other Turks. Sometimes, people would come to pray, or admire her flowerbed.

She had been selling quite a few flowers lot lately.

Today, after the creak of those old, worn hinges, the footfalls slowed to a stop, a presence lingering at the doorway in pensive silence.

Puzzled, Aerith glanced up from the flowerbed she had been tending to, wondering if something was wrong. As her lips parted to speak, she felt the breath torn completely from her throat.

His face might have hard to distinguish with all the ash and dirt clinging to their skin, but the glow of those blue eyes was all she could focus on.

Not the blood, or scars covering him, not the crumpled form of a blond Soldier slumped against one of the pews beside him.

Just an endless sky.

"Z- Zack?"

After so long, she had become terrified to hope.

Her heart swelled with the smile that crossed his lips, sheepish and familiar, a burning waking in the corner of her eyes.

"Hey there. Sorry to keep you waiti-."

Aerith crashed into his arms, the last trace of doubt alleviated as she felt him, solid and real.

He stumbled slightly, his body still wracked with pain and fatigue, but held steady, his arms settling against her back as he breathed her in. He sighed reverently, inhaling the scent of her hair and skins; cleansing his olfactory senses of the tang of blood, the sterile, recycled air pumped through their tubes.

Shifting in his arms, Aerith's hands lifted out to cradle his face. Not minding the grit that caught on her fingers, she was drawn to the warmth and colour in his skin, the distinct scar still lining his jaw. Wisps of his breath caressed her thumbs, as they carried over his cracked lips.

His heart was beating. She could feel the very life force that surrounded him, bright, and gleaming, and vital. All the while through her examination his eyes regarded her softly, eventually offering a silent nod when she looked back to him.

"But I thought you-" Her voice, barely a whisper, faltered. As if afraid that speaking the words would shatter the very image of him.

"Honestly, so did I..." He answered, sombre.

"How did you-" She stammered, as if only just registering the cuts, the traces of blood on his sword. He looked like he had been through hell. "What happened?"

"I knew I had to live. I had to bring Cloud back alive. I needed to get back to you..."

Zack's voice trailed off, his fingers clutching a worn scrap of paper. Aerith's eyes widened, catching the familiar handwriting.

It was her letter, the last one she had written to him, on the day she had given up hope. He was holding it, right in his hand.

Her eyes stung, an overwhelming relief coursing through her. It had been in vain, as she'd feared. Her words had managed to reach him, after all. They meant enough to carry with him, to keep his connection with her alive, even after all these years.

The rough pad of his glove covered her cheek, the soft curve of his smile shining through her blurred, glassy vision. Sunlight from the open roof flickered across his face, illuminating that familiar, easy expression she had been drawn to.

Aerith bit down a sob, sinking back into his embrace effortlessly, feeling as though she had never left his arms. That, even with the time and distance between them, they hadn't even been completely apart. His hand rubbed against her back, voice a low and soothing murmur.

She held desperately onto his words, the sentiment echoing in her own head. His apologies, his promises not to leave her again, his eternal gratitude to the Gods and Planet that he had found her again.

To the Summer had brought him back to her