It is raining in Costa del Sol. Aerith has no idea when it was that it first started. It might have begun to rain only a second or two ago. Or it could have been raining for the last ten minutes. She had been too preoccupied with the memory of Hojo's smile thinning to notice.

Now she hears it. It is nicer to listen to the rain than it is to think about Professor Hojo. The rain sounds so soft against the roof. It helps to ease the knot between her eyebrows. But only that. Her teeth still bite into each other.

Their hotel room is dark. No light slips in around the edges of the curtains drawn over the large window. The electric alarm clock faintly glows red under the face towel Tifa had covered it with. Pulling an arm out from underneath the bedsheets, Aerith lifts the towel up just high enough for her to peek at the time. It is only four fifty-eight in the morning. She lowers the towel. Lets her arm dangle over the side of the bed. Yuffie mumbles something unintelligible beside her.

The rain is supposed to be warm here. Or so she has heard. The closest Aerith has ever gotten to feeling warm rain has been a hot shower. The rain in Midgar had always been cold and sticky. Even then, not much rain ever made it through to places under the pizza.

A part of her thinks she should be surprised by how used she is to the rain now. Aerith remembers how taut her nerves had felt during her first real storm. How the windows of the inn at Kalm shook from the force of the thunder. Every hair on her body rose at the sight of lightning slicing through the charcoal-coloured sky. It had been mesmerizing.

Her first real sun shower had been just as enchanting. Each raindrop hit her with unexpected force. The others took cover under the ramshackle remains of what might have once been a hunting shed. Tifa had waved at her to come in out of the rain. Only Aerith could not deny herself the experience. Flinging her arms wide, she laughed.

She remembers Cloud coming out of what was left of that shed then. He held over his head some scrap of tarp he must have found inside.

I'm okay, I'm okay! she called out to him. Tried to wave him off with one hand. Cloud did not turn around. She remembers pursing her lips at him as he kept walking towards her. The tarp did not do him much good. Half of him was completely drenched by the time he reached her side. Aerith had expected him to be exasperated at that point. He was not. Every angle of him was soft.

Barret yelled something at them from the doorway. It sounded like, What are you idiots doing?!

The rain had been cold then. Yet the memory is still warm.

Aerith tries to slip out of bed and into her hotel-supplied slippers without disturbing Yuffie. She has failed enough times in the past to know that the slightest tug on the bed sheets will wake Yuffie up: Yuffie is an incredibly light sleeper and a bit of a blanket hog. As she stands, Aerith is careful not to pull on any of the blankets. Then she takes a step forward. Yuffie lets out a tiny erm. But nothing more. Success! Aerith then creeps past the bottom of Tifa's bed and the sliding doors of the closet.

Her nightdress is decent enough. There is no need for a housecoat. Beside which, the coat-hangers inside the closet are awfully squeaky. There is no way she can quietly grab a housecoat.

Aerith opts for a bath towel from their shared bathroom and slings it over her arm.

The hotel lobby is nearly deserted. A sleepy-looking security guard has pulled up a chair to the reception desk. The concierge leans across the table to whisper something in the guard's ear. Aerith notices then that their hands are overlaid. Glancing away, she does not suppress her smile. These early hours must be nice for them.

She starts toward the hotel's main entrance. Then stops.

To her left and three steps down is the recreation area. It is equipped with a billiards table and a sofa. She spots Cloud lying down on the latter. His head rests against the armrest nearest her. An arm is cast over his eyes. Her teeth part.

Lightening her step, Aerith follows the small staircase down. Crosses the floor to him. Cloud does not seem to notice her approach. His mouth is just slightly open. Breath rhythmic. Perhaps he is asleep.

Aerith leans over him a little.

"Boo," she whispers as quietly as she can.

"Hey," Cloud says from under his arm. Then the arm slides sideways. Drops over the side of the couch. He blinks up at her drowsily.

"Hey," Aerith says. Straightens herself up. "Did Barret kick you out?"

"No." His lips purse slightly. "Well, sorta."

"Let me guess," she says. There is no hiding her smile. "He kept the uniform on, didn't he?"

Cloud cannot hide his either. But at the very least he tries to. His eyes turn in the direction of his hanging arm. His mouth is a scribble. That only makes her grin grow. A second later, Cloud makes the mistake of glancing back up at her. His smile cracks open wider.

"May I sit?" she asks. Steps around the armrest to the side of the sofa.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Cloud looks like he is about to sit up. But she stops him before he can with two fingers against his arm.

"No need," she says. Slack-jawed, Cloud gives her the tiniest nod.

There is just enough room for Aerith to sit by his knees. She sets her bath towel down by his feet.

"What are you doing up?" Cloud asks. She tilts her head from side to side.

"I was on my way out," Aerith says. "The rain's supposed to be warm here, isn't it?"

"The rain?" Cloud says. Leans his head back down against the armrest. "I guess it would be."

There is something about his eyebrows that make him look almost incredulous. They sit just a little higher than they normally would. Her teeth bury into one another as she smooths down her nightdress. The fabric catches against the rough patches on her palms. Aerith looks toward the ceiling as the silence stretches.

"He knew my mother's name," she says without looking at him. The words catch against her sun-chapped lips. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"Ifalna, right?"

The name hangs in the air. It makes her drop her gaze.

"Yes," she says. Digs the fingertips of her right hand into place around her knee. "I always knew that was her name, but I was never sure. Not completely, anyways." Aerith looks into the shadow cast by the billiards table. "It was... they called her that. He did."

Cloud pulls his legs free from behind her. Puts his feet on the ground. She does not stop him from putting sitting upright.

"Hey," he says. Leans toward her. The moment she looks at him, she thinks his eyes widen. Only for a fraction of a second. Then his brow furrows a little. Cloud opens his mouth. Time moves in millimetres. Millimetres become metres. Eyes darting away, all he does is let out a little uh.

Her jaw and fingers unclench.

Aerith laughs. A little too loudly at first. It takes her a second to remember the dewy-eyed concierge and the security guard just three steps and half a wall over. Lowering her voice, Aerith leans closer to him.

"Hey." Every angle of her feels so soft. She bumps her shoulder against his. Cloud lets out three notes of a laugh. Shakes his own head. He does not move away from her.

Something washes over her then. It makes her shoulders droop. Sees her left hand press into the bit of free sofa between them to hold herself upright. She is so tired. So much more than she knew.

"Thanks," Aerith says quietly near his cheek. It takes a few seconds before Cloud nods his head. Her own eyes widen for a millisecond. Mesmerized, she does not have to look down to know that his hand overlays her own.

It is nice to listen to him breath. Every breathe sounds soft in the air. Aerith soaks each one in. It helps to ease the knotted things inside of her rib cage. She has always reached for flowers when devising metaphors: she has been a flower uprooted for so long. Her petals have been desperate for the sky. Her roots for the earth. But here Aerith just is.

Someone barks a laugh on the other side of that half-wall. Maybe the concierge. It jars her. Cloud too. His hand slips away from hers. Aerith catches his eyes before they can slip away as well. Finds his face dusted with red.

"Let's go," she says. Reaches for the hand he pulled away.

"Go where?" he asks. Lets her fingers close around his. When she stands, he does too.

"Out," she says. Aerith does not even have to pull him after her. He is as featherlight as her lungs are. "I'm dying to know just how warm the rain here is!"