So the Hero traveled to the church in the ruined city, but found not solace, for the Goddess's followers filled the church.

And the Hero said "You are cured of the geostigma. Leave this place. Forget its existence."

But the people protested, "We must not forget anything again. You must tell us Her story."

Still, the Hero said, "Leave."

~From the book of Midgar, Chapter 3, verses 4-7.

Cloud slept for a week after the battle with Sephiroth. It had taken more out of him than he realized, until Tifa finally dragged him back for some rest. He collapsed onto the bed without even taking off his shoes and woke up twenty hours later. He stayed awake only long enough for a quick meal and to change out of his grimy, battle-stained clothes before falling back into a blissful dreamless sleep. The pattern repeated a few times before he finally woke up properly. He showered and dressed and changed his sheets, and then sat down on the bed to think.

His head was clear and he felt better than he had since… when? Since he'd gotten geostigma? Since he'd found Denzel and devoted himself to finding a cure? Since they'd defeated Sephiroth the first time? Whichever possibility it was, it had been a very long time.

Is this your doing, too, Aerith? He asked silently. He didn't get an answer – she only spoke to him when she had something to say.

"Everything's alright now."

That was what she had said. He shook his head. No. Things were better. He was better. But he wasn't alright. He was probably still far from sane, not that it was easy to judge for himself. There was too much in his past for him to let go of easily. Or maybe even ever.

"You're awake!"

Denzel was standing in the doorway, with a wide grin on his face and holding a plate of sandwiches. Tifa had probably sent him up to prod Cloud awake and eat something. He hurried over to him and left the sandwiches on the bedside table, hugging him tightly.

"We were getting really worried," he said.

Cloud ruffled Denzel's hair, partly from affection and partly to look at the place where his geostigma had been. There wasn't even a hint of the rot left on his brow. That was a relief. When Aerith fixed something, it stayed fixed.

"How are you feeling?" Cloud asked.

"Great! Even better now that you're awake," Denzel grinned at him, "Come on downstairs, we just came back with dinner and you don't have to have peanut butter sandwiches if you aren't going to fall asleep in the soup."

Cloud smiled faintly and let Denzel lead him to the door. He was a little surprised by Denzel's sudden energy, but it made sense when he considered how drained the geostigma had left him. Denzel was just a kid dealing with that. It was a wonder he'd dragged himself out of bed most mornings.

Denzel bounded down the stairs, for the first time as carefree as a ten year old boy should be. Cloud followed more sedately. He did feel… well, not exactly happy, but content. It was a peaceful sort of feeling, although not as much as those few moments in the lifestream before Aerith had sent him back.

Why did you send me back?

The back room of the bar had been made into a living room and dining room in one. Tifa was at the table, along with Barret and Marlene. Marlene was very happily drawing with what looked like a new box of colored pencils – must've been a gift from Barret.

"Cloud!" Tifa greeted him happily, "It's good to see you up, how are you feeling?"

Cloud considered this for a while, "Like I could sleep for another week."

"Well, don't do that, Spiky," Barret said, "I've been pulling your weight for the last week."

"What pulling?" Tifa teased, "All you've done is spoil your daughter for a week."

"Like you don't?" Barret smiled, and softly patted Marlene's head. She looked up from her drawing and smiled.

"Hi, Cloud!"

"Hey, Marlene."

"Nanaki's still here, he's out for a walk, but Uncle Vincent and Uncle Cid left four days ago, and Tifa kicked Yuffie out for being too loud when you needed your rest. And Cait Sith is in my room. Reeve said I could keep him for a while."

Cloud raised an eyebrow at Tifa, who didn't blush. "I kicked her out around the six-hour mark, before I discovered that you could sleep through a bomb exploding." She shrugged. "Yuffie's still in town. She's staying with Reno, of all people."

Should I skip to the inevitable conclusion and flee town now? asked the little bit of him that was Zack.

"Hey, Cloud?" Denzel tugged on his sleeve and Cloud looked down at him, "Do you think you could take me for a ride on your motorcycle sometime?"

Once, a long time ago, he'd been able to grin like Denzel, but after so many losses a smile felt like a betrayal. He worried sometimes that Denzel thought Cloud didn't like him, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"We'll have to get you a helmet," he said after a while.

Denzel beamed, "You don't use one, though."

"The only thing that could smash my head in is Tifa, and only if she were really mad at me."

Barret choked rather violently. He coughed for a bit and then gasped, "Gaia, Cloud! Warn a guy before you tell a joke! You trying to kill me?"

Cloud didn't respond. He headed for the door.

"Don't you want dinner?" Tifa asked.

"I'm going to go for a drive," Cloud said, "I won't be too long."

Tifa looked at him for a bit, but nodded.

Cloud was a little bit hungry, but the rumble of Fenrir underneath him and the wind in his face was worth waiting for a while to eat. He couldn't remember having dreamt the entire time he'd slept, but he must have done so. When he woke up, he knew there were a number of things that he had to do, even though he'd never been told them.

He supposed most people would be upset about people poking around in their head, but it was a bit of a relief. Aerith's last words in the church had felt like a goodbye, and he wasn't ready for goodbyes yet.

He was nearly on top of Zack's grave marker before he saw the strange new additions. Yellow flowers were growing on the ground. They weren't the delicate cups that grew in Aerith's church, but a hardier kind that Cloud didn't recognize.

He bent down and nearly plucked one before he decided not to. If flowers were growing on Zack's grave, they were meant to be there. He smiled – a tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Aerith again. She must have been very busy this last week.

He straightened up and gave the Buster Sword a long look. Leaving it there as Zack's grave marker had seemed the right choice at the time, but now he was wondering about it. Zack had always taken such good care of his sword…

I shouldn't have let it get rusted. Cloud pulled the sword out of the dirt and frowned at it. Well, it wasn't ruined yet. It would come clean with some elbow grease and time.

Besides, there were flowers to mark the grave now.

He reached the church in good time. Though it was further from the grave than 7th Heaven, he felt like he needed someplace quiet to sit while he cleaned the sword. And maybe… well, he'd seen Aerith here before. Zack had been with her. Even if she hadn't let him stay in the lifestream, if he just had a place where he could talk to them…

He held the Buster Sword, hesitating outside the door. He missed them both so much. There was a large part of him that was afraid to open the door and discover that whatever magic had made him see them was gone. If they weren't there…

He wondered for a moment if Aerith would send him back again if he committed suicide, or if she would accept that he really did mean to stay. He shook his head. Either way, if he were to do that, she would be sad.

He pushed the door open and blinked in surprise. Had someone fixed the door? Before, he'd always had to push in a certain spot or the door would get stuck on the old, uneven floor. He and his friends had always kind of talked about repairing the old church, had someone finally started the job?

There were people in the church. A small crowd was kneeling by the water, heads bent in what could only be prayer. Cloud paused, not sure what to think. On one hand he couldn't fault people for praying where they chose to, but on the other hand he didn't like the idea of having to share this place with anyone else. It had been his haven for the past two years, silent and filled with memories of people he loved.

Maybe he would just come back later… he wanted to be alone when he was here. He turned to go.

"It's him!" he heard someone say.

He turned back. The one who had spoken was a little boy, younger even than Marlene. He had a smear of geostigma on his cheek and Cloud instantly forgot about leaving.

The boy came up to him, "You know how to make us better, right? We came all the way from Junon!"

Of course there would still be people with the stigma. Not everyone would've been outside and some people would've had to come from much farther away.

An older woman, with hair that was going gray and a face lined with stress also approached him. He saw no sign of the stigma on her face or bare arms, but she was holding an infant who must have been close to death, judging by how thickly coated it was in the sores.

"You can cure my daughter?" she asked in a tone that bade ill if he said no.

"You don't need me to do it," Cloud said, "It's the water." Someone had obviously told them the place, but it was ridiculous that they were sitting here praying when the cure was all of fifteen feet away.

He gestured for the woman to follow him and walked to the pool. Despite how many people had jumped in the water on that day, it was still impossibly clean and clear. He knelt down by the edge of the water and reached out for the baby. The woman handed her to him with only a little bit of hesitation and Cloud was pleased that his hands didn't shake when he held her. He hated holding babies. They were so tiny and delicate, and he was always certain that he would break them with his inhuman strength.

Nonetheless, he cradled the child in one arm and scooped up some of the water in his free hand. He dropped it on the baby's head and breathed a sigh of relief when the sores disappeared in a faint glow of green. The baby took a deep breath and began to shriek her displeasure about the cold water.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" the mother said, taking back her child and falling to her knees. She held the wailing baby close, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at Cloud. "I knew you could do it! You really are Her servant."

"You didn't need me to do it," Cloud said, shaking his head, "All you needed was the water."

"They all said that you healed all the children in Midgar," the woman said, "We didn't know where to find you, so we prayed for Her to send you to us."

"Her?" Cloud echoed, with a sinking feeling that he knew who they were referring to.

"The Lady in the Lifestream!" the little boy said, "The one who sent the rain! Me next!"

Cloud pointed at the water, "You can heal yourself. You didn't need to wait for me."

The little boy looked at the water, and then looked back at Cloud, biting his lip. "I can't swim."

Cloud sighed. He looked at the rest of the people. None of the adults seemed the slightest bit inclined to help. They were all watching him intently to see what he would do. Apparently they believed that if he didn't do it, it wouldn't work.

He took off his boots and set them by the pool, then stepped into the water. He turned back to the little boy and reached out to him, "Come here. I won't drop you."

The little boy nodded, and Cloud lifted him down until he was neck deep. He really was a tiny child, his feet still didn't touch the ground.

"Hold your breath," he ordered. The boy took a deep breath and covered his nose, and Cloud carefully lowered him all the way under the water. He came back up blinking water out of his eyes, and gingerly touching the places on his face where the sores had been. He broke into a huge grin when Cloud deposited him back on the edge of the pool.

"Grandpa, I'm all better!" he said happily as an old man hugged him.

Cloud somehow managed to keep from sighing again. "Anyone else?"

Five more people, all adults, carefully stepped into the water. At least he didn't have to hold their hands for that part, but somehow not a one of them had the sense to duck his or her head under the water until Cloud prompted them to do so.

When the last man was finally getting out of the water, Cloud breathed a sigh of relief. He climbed out of the pool himself. He was sopping from the chest down, but he would dry, and at least these people were fixed up.

With a nod, he went to retrieve the Buster Sword from where he left it by the door. He paid no attention to the people milling around and talking to each other. They'd gotten what they wanted; they'd clear out soon enough. He sat down on one of the only remaining pews and began to clean the sword.

He was so absorbed in his work that it took him a few minutes to realize that he had an audience. None of the people had left yet and all were watching him expectantly.

Um… Cloud thought.

"Tell us about Her," one man said, "The Lady in the Lifestream. How did She become a goddess?"

Cloud shook his head, "Why are you expecting me to know?"

"She sent you back. You were dead, but She sent you back."

Yes, and it was actually a very raw wound so would they please be so kind as to not bring it up? He shook his head again.

"I don't know why she sent me back."

"But we do!" said the old man, "She sent you back to heal us, and to teach us! You came back knowing the secret to curing Geostigma. She must have taught you so much."

"There isn't a secret," Cloud protested, "It's just the water."

"But you healed us."

Only because you were too stupid to figure it out for yourself, Cloud thought. He groaned, and buried his head in his hands.

"There's nothing special about me," he said, "Please just leave me alone."

"But…" it was the little boy. Cloud unwillingly looked up at him. "You saved us. You're a hero, right? Isn't that special?"

Cloud shook his head, "You could've saved yourself without any help from me. I'm not a hero. I'm just a man who wants to be left alone for a while."

The little boy frowned at him, but nodded. He grabbed his grandfather's hand and pulled him towards the door. Slowly, the rest of the group followed. Cloud didn't watch them go, instead staring at the floor. He had been feeling better, but their questions and the admiration in their eyes brought back all his painful memories, and the new hurts.

Why didn't she let him stay?

"I didn't plan for this to happen," Aerith said softly when the church had finally cleared.

Cloud slowly turned. Seeing her was strange, for she looked solid and alive, but there was something about her that twisted his vision and made it hard to focus on her directly. He wondered if he would feel anything if he tried to touch her, or if his hand would pass through, like an illusion.

"I suppose that's what you get for working miracles," Cloud said softly. Once it might have been a joke, but he didn't feel very funny when he said it.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know you don't want to be put on the spot like this, but... I think it could be a good thing."

"They think I'm some kind of prophet. Or their messiah. I'm not."

"Well, you know one of the best qualifications for leadership is supposed to be not wanting it," cut in another voice, "Besides, the deity thing could be a pretty sweet deal. Think I could get in on it?"

"Zack," Aerith said sternly, but the corners of her mouth were twisting up in an unwilling smile.

"What, don't you think I'd make a good god?" Zack asked, grinning, "What about you, Spike?"

"You'd be a god of chaos," Cloud said flatly.

"Aw, see, I was angling for some kind of guardian."

"Zack," Aerith said again, a little more sharply. Zack smiled, and then mimed zipping his lips.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, "Now, as I was saying, this could be a good thing. I'm something like... an advisor to the Planet now. The other Cetra have been dead for too long to remember what the living are like. And the Planet is still sick. It's not dying anymore, but it's not in good shape, either. If you're a prophet, Cloud, they'll listen to you. You can guide them in restoring the planet. And I'll guide you."

Cloud shut his eyes briefly. He didn't want to be a prophet. He didn't want to have to save the world anymore. He was tired, so old inside his twenty-three year old body. He just wanted to lay here and let everything drift away.

"Cloud, please," Aerith said, "I can't pick someone else. The world's chosen you. You're the one who did the miracles."

"On one condition," Cloud said.

"What do you want?" Aerith asked.

"When this is over - when the Planet is recovered," Cloud took a deep breath, "You'll let me die."

"Cloud..." it was Zack who spoke. Cloud glanced over to see Zack's face uncharacteristically serious and worried.

"When this is over, you'll let me die. You won't send me back again. I can stay with you and Zack. Promise me that, and I'll be your prophet."

Aerith looked at him for a long time with a sad, serious expression. Finally, she nodded.

"It's a deal."