Trapped In Ice

The Forgotten Capital. It didn't look like, in the past two years, it had changed more than it had over the past hundred. The only change that Cloud Strife could recognize was how bitterly cold it was there. It was cold everywhere, that's just how February was.

He'd made a special trip here, though, and was glad that the Fenrir and a new overcoat were keeping him warm. He was lucky that the paths hadn't iced over. He sped into the city as far as the Fenrir could go, but eventually, he had to save the rest of the gas in its tank so that he could get at least to a town along the way where he could fill up.

Reaching into the bag that his packages were usually held, Cloud carefully pulled out a bouquet of the flowers from the Sector 5 Church, preserved in a safe chemical and kept in a plastic container.

He couldn't think of a more appropriate present for Aerith's twenty-fourth birthday.

There were other things in the bag aside from the neatly cut flowers, tied in a pink ribbon. A drawing from Marlene, a cupcake in a bag from Tifa (though he didn't know how much good that would do), and Vincent, Yuffie, and Cid had all pooled together to buy a pink cell phone with a specific number. 237-4844. A-e-r-i-t-h-g.

Cloud didn't know why, but he saved the number in his cell phone address book.

Carefully, he trekked down to the pool where her corpse had been laid, slipping and tripping over the ice that covered everything. He was slightly worried; what if the pool had iced over?

Though, sure enough, it had. And he saw quite a spectacle.

In the center of the small pond, Aerith's body was trapped inside the ice, her hair sprawled out around her, her hands clasped over her abdomen. She lay so peacefully, near the top of the pool. Cloud could touch her if he really, really wanted to.

After making sure that the ice was thick enough, Cloud carefully slid onto it, crawling over on his stomach toward her. "Happy Birthday," He huffed, setting the picture, cell phone, cupcake, and flowers down beside her. "Aerith."

The walk back up was much harder, not because of the ice but because of the image still fresh in his mind. He climbed onto the Fenrir and drove back home silently, only speaking to thank the man at the gas station he re-fueled at.

He opened his cell phone to call Tifa, to tell her he was nearly home, when he saw across the small LCD screen, the indication "NEW MSG". Flipping it open, he saw 'Aerith' on the message ID, and the simple text "Thank you."

He smiled and pocketed the cell phone, deciding to surprise Tifa. And he never questioned how he got a message from someone trapped beneath the layer of ice.

Wait and See

Prologue:

“And here, in Kalm, where the first assault by the enemy group ‘Deepground’ began, officials are searching the downed helicopter for any signs or clues as to the location of the kidnapped citizens. The mass kidnapping occurred on the night of a festival, held in celebration of completion of repairs to the city after the celestial occurrence Meteor fell onto Midgar and the surrounding areas…”

With his elbows pressed against the polished top of the large bar, Denzel watched the screen with avid interest as the blonde news anchor attempted to approach the wreckage of the aircraft. WRO officials kept pushing her back, saying just audibly enough for the camera to pick up, ‘Ma’am, this area is completely restricted. Please remain behind the tape for your safety.’

Defeated, the smiling woman turned back to the camera, her microphone in hand. “This is Emily Mamora, here in Kalm.” The smile was fake and irritated, and her grip on the microphone was tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. “Back to you, Dan.”

“Denzel, when are we going to get any customers?”

He turned over to Marlene, who sat upon one of the leather upholstered bar stools. “I don’t know. Probably not until later. It’s only eleven in the morning, and it’s a Tuesday, too.” He turned his attention back to the news, where a serious looking older male was giving a report about Shinra Electric investing great amounts of money to finding alternative sources to power homes and businesses with.

“Marlene, you still wanna be a news anchor?” Denzel nodded to the television, finding the cool plastic of the remote control and spinning it on the bar boredly.

“Yeah, I do.” She smiled, spinning around on the stool so that she was facing him fully. A jingle on a commercial for a mechanic’s shop faded into silence when Denzel hit the power button and turned on the radio. “I’ve even been practicing the way I smile and say my words… what’s the word for that?”

“You mean enunciate? How you pronounce things?” He smiled at Marlene, who was taking her hair out of the twisted braid that it had been in since he could remember. She carefully set the ribbons down on a nearby napkin, and she shook her hair out so that it fell in waves around her face.

“Mhm!” She smiled proudly, leaning forward and neatly folding her hands up under her chin. “I even got this look right. Tifa said that most news women had to look pretty like this.”

Of course, Tifa would present the supposed promiscuity of the female news anchor above all else. He had just imagined that hopefully, she would have kept it from the eager-to-learn seven year old. Unfortunately for that, he was very, very wrong.

“Well, did you see how that lady’s knuckles were white and her smile looked fake when the WRO soldier said that she couldn’t get any further?” Denzel asked, watching Marlene nod so that her curls bounced. “I think that’s because… when you’re in that business long enough, you start to crave information. You want to know everything, and you’d do anything to know everything. You lose it.”

“Wow, that’s kinda sca-“ Marlene suddenly stopped halfway through her sentence, and Denzel didn’t blame her for the surprise. After all, for the first time since Cloud and Tifa had left on Saturday, the single bell, put up above the door, rang through the entirety of the bar. It somehow even overpowered the rock music station that Denzel had on. A customer had finally come.

“Ah… welcome to the Seventh Heaven!” Denzel smiled brightly to the old woman that came in. “We also house Strife Delivery Service, though the deliveries are currently not being made. If you need a delivery made, we can hold the package until a later date, and-“

“I just need a glass of water, please. That’s all I have the gil for.” Denzel was surprised at how young the woman sounded, despite her bent over back and the thin wisps of graying hair coming from under the scarf on her head. Slowly, she moved toward the bar and sat down on a stool, apparently unaware that she had interrupted his well-rehearsed greeting.

“Water, coming right up.” The also practiced enthusiasm had slipped through the cracks as well, completely out of Denzel’s reach. If the lady was rude, she didn’t need a fake smile and friendly conversation. She would get a nice cold helping of the way the preteen felt.

Reaching into the freezer, Denzel filled a glass with ice and then poured water into it from a pitcher that Tifa had taught him how to keep in the freezer without freezing over. “There we go...” Denzel slid the water over onto the bar in front of the woman.

Without bothering to thank him, she greedily drank the contents of the tall glass, even letting the ice chips melt in her mouth. “Urm… that’s two gil for the water, I think. “

“Yes… that’s all that I have.” The woman produced the two gil from a deep pocket and handed it to Denzel, letting her icy fingertips slide against the palm of his hand. “Thank you for the water, young man.”

“Thank you for your business.” Denzel dropped the money into the register and watched the woman leave, not taking note of the black stains on her bandage-wrapped hand. In fact, he barely registered that she had bandages at all, and he didn’t care to even ask her story.

Though, after a moment, Denzel found that he didn’t need to.

As soon as the bell on the door ceased to ring again, a sharp pain shot into the palm of his hand and up his arm. The excruciating burning pain was terrible and familiar, and with one look at his hand, he knew. Keeping the sight of the black-bleeding sore that had began to form from Marlene, Denzel only mouthed one simple word.

“Geostigma.”

Silence

The hardest part was living through the silence. Ears were strained in the act of constantly listening for a familiar voice, though the heart knew that such a voice was gone forever.

Lucrecia. He longed to hear her voice again, though he knew that it was long gone. It had been gone for over thirty years.

He thought that he had heard it in Shalua Rui, but found that he had heard it more in her younger sister, Shelke. Yet, even through Shelke, Lucrecia's voice rang clearest in Vincent Valentine's memory.

He could close his eyes and hear it. Her voice. Everything that she said, he remembered with perfection. If he wanted, he could reach out and grab it.

Such a shame it was impossible.

The closest things that he had to Lucrecia were himself and the quiet Shelke, who lived with Cloud, Tifa, Denzel, and Marlene, taking her mako doses so that she didn't disappear into the Lifestream like her elder sister.

He had formed an interesting relationship with Shelke Rui. She had recently turned twenty, yet still looked ten. But they looked past her unique predicament, and became close.

Vincent knew that she liked him as more than a friend, but he wasn't sure how to respond. Were they her feelings? Or Lucrecia's?

The former Tsviet slowly began to get more talkative. She started to use the same soft tone, and make the same unconscious motions that Lucrecia made.

Shelke was still herself, but she was Lucrecia as well. And her constantly pleasant aura warmed him to the core but left him feeling empty.

Honestly, he preferred the silence of a life without Lucrecia than the soft melody that came from one with Shelke.

He felt like he didn't deserve her all over again.