What About Now?, a final fantasy vii fanfic

A.N. This story came about after my friend and co-writer Moiranne Rose challenged me to write a fic I wouldn't normally attempt. I will share the terms of the challenge, but at the end of the story because I don't want to give anything away!

Many thanks to MissInformed who was the beta for this story.

I can't take my eyes off the sky tonight.

It just looks kinda... out of place. I dunno. It's one of those nights where the clouds seem to hang really heavily and the sky is that same murky blue that you get in a really deep river. I guess it's not all that different from any other night's sky in winter on the Eastern Continent. But maybe that's just it: it hasn't changed. Not four hours ago, the sky had broken into a battleground. Red met white met green and all we could do was stand and gawp as the fate of the Planet was entirely removed from our hands. A little more force from the red or white or a little less from the green and there wouldn't be a sky to look at now. And yet, if you didn't know what happened earlier you'd find nothing remarkable about the sky at all.

It's strange, that.

The dull chink of glass against wood shakes me from my thoughts as Cid sets his tankard down on the table. I break my gaze from out of the inn's window.

"So..." he begins, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "I guess that's Commander Crazy taken care of. What about now?"

There are a few glances between the group, but no one speaks. I try to keep my eyes fixed on my glass.

"What happens next?" he tries a second time.

Another silence.

In the end, Barret is the first to speak. "I guess I'll finally get to spend some time with Marlene. Been a long time coming" he adds, softly.

There are a few nods of approval and words of encouragement, but then the table falls quiet again. I wonder whether the others feel the same as me. I'd never really planned out this far. For the past few months everything has been about Sephiroth and Meteor. We never really talked about what would happen when it was all over. I don't think I dared to. But here we are, finished, and faced with slotting ourselves back into a (hopefully) peaceful world. For a good few minutes, we don't meet one another's eyes.

It seems like an odd sort of victory.

I stepout onto the doorstep of the hotel before the others so I pick out one of the gardenbenches to sit and wait for a while. It's a nice morning. Cold, but, I dunno, clear, I guess. And fresh. But the sky still feels wrong. It's alive again this morning. The clouds are thin and wispy and they're stretching and swirling along with the wind. Just as you'd expect I suppose. Except that I don't expect it. Evening sky. Night sky. Morning sky. It's too normal a progression. The sky shouldn't be carrying on as if nothing had ever happened.

I'm still sitting in the hotel garden as the rest of the group begin to trickle out of the building. Marlene and Elmyra are the only ones with suitcases. We really are starting from scratch.

Since our conversation last night, everyone has had a little longer to think about where they're heading next.

Barret and Tifa are off to look for somewhere to live in the local area, somewhere they can find work and bring up Marlene.

Cait's heading back to the ruins of Midgar to help Reeve with regeneration.

Red will return to Cosmo Canyon, but not as the son of a wastrel. This time he's returning proud, with the knowledge that he's an equal in the community and worthy of his place there.

Cid, when he's finished delivering everyone to their respective futures, will head across to Rocket Town, fix up the Highwind, and see how he can put it to use in the rebuilding projects.

Elmyra's going to look for a place to stay in Kalm. Barret and Tifa suggest that she move in with them, but she says she'd rather be on her own. After what we told her yesterday we don't want to press her too far.

I don't share my plans. I'm not exactly sure why not. It's not that I don't know where I'm going. I suppose it's more that I worry what the others will make of it. Perhaps they won't see it as a step forward. Perhaps I don't see it as a step forward. I don't know. I guess it'll be easier to tell them once I know whether it's done me any good.

Tifa sits beside me, hugs me and makes me promise to call her once I've done what I need to do. And I will, as soon I've sorted myself out.

I sit and watch the sky a little longer after the others leave. It's not easy for any of us, I don't think, to step back into a world that keeps on moving, but I can't help thinking that the others have one up on me. For me it's not just finding a new path, it's slipping back into long-forgotten personality like an old, discarded jacket, and one that never fit all that well when it was new. When we were fighting it didn't matter too much; I could let parts of it hang too loosely or rip clean through others, but now that there are no other distractions I need it to cling to my body, to work with me. That's not easy when I've forgotten most of its measurements.

Up above, the sky is mocking me. The sun is unusually high for this time of year and it's already burned away most of the cloud, leaving the sky as a pale blue blanket, stretched right around Gaia. Not twenty-four hours after the end and already the sky is turning, changing and adapting. Even my friends seem to have figured out how they'll fit in to this new world. How am I supposed to figure that out? I'm not even sure I know who "I" is.

It's not easy to get a lift to a place that's been just torn to pieces by magic energy, so it's mid-afternoon by the time I arrive in Midgar on foot. It's almost eerie to walk along the streets now. Thanks to Vincent, Yuffie, and the Turks the city is now completely deserted. It's a good job too. Not one of the old, familiar buildings stands where it used to. Some are already collapsed in a heap of debris; some of the houses are missing entire walls, leaving the remaining walls looking solitary and out of place. As I pass through Sector 0 the roof of one such house falls in a clatter of tiles. Needless to say, I don't stick around for long.

Strangely enough, I'm struck by the memory of walking through Midgar for the first time. To a kid from a mountain village, Midgar was beyond imagination. Everything was metal and gleaming and unbelievably tall. It was an emblem for everything that ShinRa wanted to say about itself and at thirteen years old it was easy to be taken in. Now it's hard to believe that I'm walking through the same place. The walkways and wide carriageways that had once been thronging are deserted and so steeped in rubble that I have to lift my knees high in order to trudge through them. The neon lights that had once illuminated Loveless Avenue are either flickering lamely or completely out. The city that once was a sign of ShinRa's power is now nothing but a notice of their collapse.

To my relief I find that the slums, being sheltered, had fared better in the tornadoes. In fact, when I arrive at my destination I'm pleasantly surprised by the place. It's not exactly how you left it, but it's a lot better than I'd been expecting. The hole I made in the roof now has a partner on the right hand wall and several of the pillars have cracked. Amazingly though, the flowers look to be growing as well as ever. Perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised by that. You did once tell me they were resilient. All in all, it's seen better days, but it still feels like it's yours. I think that's the most important thing.

I take myself a seat on one of the surviving pews and shut my eyes. Strange that after all this time, and even in the midst of this chaos, this place feels the same as it ever did. It's so calm, like a little haven. I was never quite sure whether that was because of you or the church. I guess this means it was the building itself. Although, I dunno, I like to think that you're just as much here now as you ever were. It's a comfort, I suppose. So in my head I repeat Cid's question to you.

What about now?

You'd have a pretty good answer, I think, if you were here. You were always much more decisive than I was. And purposeful. I was just muddled. I guess it's no surprise that I'm still lost now that it's over. I stretch myself out across the bench.

Oh Aerith. I could do with a little of your resolution.

I'm glad I came. It's nice to be here and remember you. You deserve a part in the end of everything. And I think I needed to see you again. To remember you walking up and down this aisle and crouching low over the flowers. There are so many things I'd forgotten. The way that your plait swung when you walked, the way that just one side of your lips quirked upwards when you were amused, the way your hands were almost permanently clasped in front of you as if you never stopped praying.

Had I forgotten? Or is it that I never really noticed in the first place? It sounds awful, but it's probably more likely. I'm good at that: getting so caught up in what I think is important at the time that I miss what's really going on. Don't get me wrong; that's not an excuse. It's an explanation, I guess. I want you to know that it wasn't because you weren't beautiful, it wasn't that you didn't make my insides tie themselves into knots when I was around you, and it certainly wasn't that my chest didn't ache, as if a part of it had been scooped out, when you were no longer fighting alongside us. I suppose it was just that up until just recently I didn't know the reason for the knottiness or the aching chest. Pretty dumb, huh?

I'll say one thing for me though; at least I didn't leave it altogether too late. For a minute there it was starting to come together. You remember that night, right? You wouldn't forget it? I know I couldn't. And up in that cable car, when your face was lit by the neon flashes of fireworks, I was finally starting to cotton on.

It's no secret that I can be forgetful. Gods, I think I've made an art out of it these past few months. But that's why it seems so strange that that one conversation juts out of the normal stream of memories like a sharp rock poking out the surface of a river. I can see it all now, as if I'd had a second chance to live it through. I can feel the sway of the cable car, the way you leant in towards me almost conspiratorially, your head cocked and your eyebrows knitted together in a curious frown.

"First off, it bothered me how you looked exactly alike. Two completely different people, yet you look exactly the same.

"The way you talk, gesture... I think I must have seen him again, in you...

"But you're different. Things are different... Cloud... I'm searching for you. I want to meet you."

Needless to say, you didn't miss the important stuff. Hell, you didn't miss a trick. It makes me laugh sometimes; the thought that I had to have a breakdown, be dipped into the lifestream, then hauled out again before I could figure out that much. You got there from a couple of months of head cocking and curious pouts.

Typically enough though, I was easily distracted and it wasn't long before my head was full of traitors and espionage and robotic cats. All things that I couldn't have done a thing about at the time. I think you knew that. I think that was the reason for that gentle little hand against my hip, for the peck on my mouth that softened into something greater. I think it was because you knew we had a chance for something more and you didn't want that to be swept away in a wave of needless worry. That's the best sense I can make of it. I think a part of me is still gawping at the memory in disbelief just like I gawped at you that night in the hotel room.

I feel my lips curl into an involuntary smile. God, you were so beautiful. I squint against the sunlight pouring in through the hole in the roof. I don't think I ever really got my head around just how lucky I was. I know now though. Believe me, I do know now.

You know, you once said that it was in this place that you could feel the Planet the most clearly. It's strange. I'm not an Ancient. Not even mildly perceptive. But I think I can feel a little more of you here than anywhere else.

It would explain a lot.

It would explain why if I shut my eyes and try hard enough to remember I think I can almost feel your hand on my thigh, the way that your fingers danced in circles, tentative and feather-light. And although it feels wrong – almost sacrilegious – I feel as if I can sense you tugging on my belt, the fabric coming loose in your hands and my trousers falling and leaving me naked. Oh God, more naked than you'll ever know.

I remember the way that my mind raced at a million miles a minute. I was so damn sure I'd been here before. Experienced. A Casanova, almost. But goddamn it, the knowledge was slipping fast away from my fingertips, just like so many of the other facts and figures that I'd tried to call on in that time. And I panicked. I froze. Stood there like an idiot: naked in your hotel room and staring at you as if I'd never seen you before in my life.

That was when I noticed that you were trembling too.

Before I'd really thought it through, I had you wrapped up in my arms. Gods, with both my arms around you, you felt so small. So frail and little. I still don't know whether it was minutes or seconds, but it felt as if we stayed there, embracing, for the longest time, drinking each other in maybe, making up for how slow we'd been to move in the past.

I think – I hope, at least – that, bent low, my lips pressed against you ear, I murmured "I love you," although often I wonder whether I've superimposed that over my more reliable memories, desperate to say it at least once before it was too late.

"I love you."

I'll choose to remember it this time, whether it was real or not. Right before your hands found their way to your own dress, undoing the buttons one at a time, your eyes so open, so searching, waiting for me to take the lead.

And I was like a damn adolescent, watching, gaping, waiting to see what you looked like under all that pink fabric. With every button that came undone, my face got hotter, and you kept on looking at me as if you were waiting for me to grab a hold of you and sweep you away. Damnit though, I couldn't move. Then, in an instant, your eyes changed, they stopped pleading. You weren't waiting for me anymore. Instead you were headed towards me, your eyes wide and inquisitive.

I won't forget that stare. Not for as long as I live. Your eyes didn't shift from mine, not once, and yet I felt as if I was being searched. Every emotion, every confused memory from the past few months stretched out before me like a shopping list. I wasn't ready for that yet. I remember backing away, flustered and embarrassed, tripping over my feet. But then you were at my side, your tiny little bare arms around my waist. And you were holding me. Your hands around my chest. It was all backwards. I should have been the one caring for you. But I needed it. I needed you to tell me that it didn't matter. I needed someone to tell me that I didn't have to be in control.

You certainly told me that. With a gentle, guiding pull you moved our embrace from the centre of the hotel room to your satin-draped bed. I clenched and opened my fists as I laid myself next to you, trying to remember what came next, but I anticipated what would happen before it did. Nothing. An empty, endless blank. That experience was becoming all too familiar. Finally, in desperation I took a finger and stuck it inside you, circling it pathetically as my mind turned over and over, trying to conjure up some memory of some past experience, anything that would help me improve on the feeble job I knew I was doing. Any minute now you were going to get up, frustrated and disappointed, and head off to find someone better. Or worse still, maybe you'd see through me altogether. Maybe you'd realise that behind all the cockiness and swagger there was really very little substance, just a bunch of half remembered know-how and poorly imagined bridges for the gaps.

I remember how your hand slid along my torso and along the side of my leg until you were cupping my testicles. It made my teeth and all my muscles tighten and my face feel hot. I wished you'd stop. I couldn't think straight. And any minute you'd realise... Oh God, I so wished I could remember.

But it was already over. You'd closed your hand around my wrist and were pulling me out of you. Bored already. No doubt it'd make an entertaining story. Cloud Strife: famed ex-SOLDIER and all-round cocky bastard, has bugger all to brag about once you strip away the uniform. I was already wondering whether you'd tell the others. But to my amazement there was none of the disdain in your eyes that I'd been expecting. There was curiosity for a moment, but it softened into one of your half smiles. It took me a good while to properly realise what that meant. I certainly didn't have long to think about it because before I knew it your hands were at my waist and you were pulling me on top of you. Gods, as if I hadn't messed up enough already. I dropped my head, I guess to gather my thoughts, but your hand appeared under my chin, lifting my eye line to meet yours. And there was that smile again. That same smile. A knowing smile, although I wouldn't have dared to think that at the time.

So we did it. And it was awkward and fumbling and far short of rhythmic on my part, but you looked me in the eye the whole time, with your chin raised and the slightest hint of defiance that almost dared me to look away. Not that I didn't try. But even when I couldn't quite match your movements with my own there was this look in your eye, so earnest and sincere. It felt almost wishful thinking at the time but I was actually starting to believe that you didn't care about it being perfect, that you weren't going to complain if there weren't fireworks or simultaneous orgasms or any of those other things girls supposedly obsess over. And in spite of myself I was actually starting to relax.

We finished off and, no surprise, it wasn't exactly my hour of glory. To this day I wish I'd been able to pull something a little better out of the bag for you. Still, knowing now the real reason why I didn't have a clue what I was doing, I think maybe it was better the way it was. At least this way it'll always be a link to you. That's what people say right? There'll be something of you that's bound up with sex for me now. Or something. It doesn't really matter. It's not as if I could have forgotten that night whether it had been my first time or my fiftieth. Anyway, I think things like that would have mattered to you more than having the perfect experience. I hope so anyway.

For me though, as much as the act itself will stay with me forever, I think I'll always hold the rest of the night just as dear. I studied your expression so closely, desperate for some sort of indication of how it had gone, but you just shuffled back against my chest and sighed. A happy sigh, I think. I wrapped my arms around you and eventually you fell asleep. And that was it.

I didn't sleep that night. Not at all. It took me a while to get my head around everything. I'd tried so hard for so long to hide the way I'd been feeling, all my doubts about my past. Tonight I'd screwed up so completely. I'd showed myself up for exactly who I was and you were still content to let me hold you against me for the rest of the night. You'd barely even seemed surprised by what you'd seen.

The left and right sides of the church roof separated and converged as my eyes adjusted to being open after so long shut. You really weren't surprised, were you? I let you get closer to me than anyone had in years, and given that you weren't tiptoeing on the edge of insanity you probably had a clearer view of who I was than I could ever have had. You didn't react at all as I'd expected. I allow myself a slight smile as I sit myself up on the church pew. Goddammit, Aerith. How do you do it?

I decide to stay around in the church a little longer after that. I even spend a while tending to the flowers. No doubt my green thumb has nothing on yours, but I try to be as careful as possible. I like to think that you'd appreciate it and besides, there just aren't enough chances to say thank you these days. I need to take my opportunities when they arise.

I must have been more tired than I realised because I wake this morning slumped against a pew with an aching back and a wet jumper. With a considerable degree of effort I make it to my feet and, taking the water can from where I must have dropped it on the wooden floor, I give the flowers a final water.

Now, standing against the grand church door, I take a long look at the place. No doubt it won't be long until I'm back again.

It's funny. I'm not sure whether I'm really any further along. I still don't really fit. I'm not the SOLDIER I believed I was and I'm no longer the sixteen-year-old that I once was. Since then, there've been five years in which my personality has just laid dormant. I still don't know quite how I'm supposed to pick it up again. I still have no answer to Cid's question: What about now?

But I feel different today. I can still envisage that knowing little smile on your face and I like to think that you knew. I guess it was obvious that I wasn't who I'd made myself out to be. I'd shown you enough to share just how little I knew, that was for sure. But I can remember your cold little hand against my cheek and the quiet encouragement in your eyes. You saw something else in me that was neither the man I thought I was nor the disinterested egotist that I tried to make people believe I was. You saw who I am, I think. And from where I was sitting you seemed to like it.

I give you a final grin as I shut the door. Well, if you liked what you saw in me then I see no reason why I won't feel the same. I step closer to the closed door and bend my head low against the wood.

"Thank you Aerith," I murmur aloud.

I fumble in my pocket for my mobile phone and hit the speed dial.

"A house near Kalm, you say?" I ask through a smile. No other explanation is necessary. "Okay. I'll call you when I get there."

I flip my phone shut and set about the long walk out of Midgar. Finally, I reach the entrance to the Plate after a ridiculously long, although somewhat nostalgic, journey and swing myself around the rusty wire to plant my feet on the Sector 0 plate. It doesn't particularly surprise me that I instantly notice the sky, although I do think that it's particularly eye-catching this morning. The sun is just appearing on the horizon, setting a glow over the dilapidated city. And even in the centre of all this destruction, I find myself wanting to laugh. The sky is still changing even after everything that has happened.

But now, so am I.

For those of you who are interested. The challenge was as follows:

I challenge you to write a Clerith in which Aerith, instead of Cloud, makes the first move, and yes, they get together.

Terms that must be met: The title must be "What About Now" and there can't be any angst. Oh yes, it must be done wholly in Cloud's POV.

I hope that, as a newcomer to writing Clerith, I've done justice to the pairing for those who read it regularly.