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Title: Collapse
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Sector 7 Plate Drop
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Characters: Aerith Gainsborough, Tifa Lockhart
Word Count: 713
Summary: As they wait for Cloud to wake up, in Aerith's childhood prison in ShinRa Tower, Aerith and Tifa speak about the fall of the Plate.
The room is uncomfortably still. No one seems to know how to break the silence. Tifa fidgets, glancing between the unconscious Cloud on the narrow bed, Barret in the chair, Red XIII curled up on the floor like a housecat, and Aerith, seemingly lost in contemplation of the drawing that covers one wall of the tiny, horrible room.
Had Aerith really grown up here? Well. Until she escaped, of course. The fact that she'd had to escape turns Tifa's stomach.
"Did everyone you know get out okay?" The words are soft, but everyone's so quiet that they make Tifa jump anyway. She turns wide eyes to Aerith, who's- oh! She had asked Tifa that.
"Out?" She asks blankly.
"Of the collapse." Aerith says, soft and patient. Tifa resists the urge to flinch at the reminder.
"Ah- most of the civilians, yes. I think there were a few who… didn't make it. The rest of AVALANCHE was working on doing a headcount when we left." Tifa murmurs. Aerith nods, clasping her hands at her chest.
"I see… and AVALANCHE?" She asks, eyes more knowing than Tifa thinks someone who looks like that should be. She's stereotyping, though. Aerith is a Slums girl, has been since she was a child, and before that she'd lived in this… glorified prison cell.
"We took a lot of losses," she manages to say, willing the tears burning her eyes not to fall. For all Tifa tries to be tough, she knows a part of her will always be a sheltered, romantic, small-town girl. Aerith's grass-green eyes soften, and she steps forward, reaching out slowly. As if she might spook Tifa if she moved too fast. Tifa is strangely grateful for her care, and sets her gloved hands on Aerith's. There's strength in those hands, more than she'd somehow expected. There's calluses on her hands, and Tifa thinks she can see traces of dirt ground into the lines of her skin. Like a gardener or a farmer would have. It soothes something in Tifa that aches for crisp, clean mountain air, for the scent of snowstorms rolling down the mountain, and the taste of fresh, early vegetables. The vegetables in Midgar always come out of cans. At least under the Plate.
"They didn't evacuate topside before the collapse." Tifa blurts out, and tears finally begin rolling down her cheeks. "I don't- all those people-" her voice cracks, and Barret looks away kindly. Aerith looks both understanding and somehow grim.
"I know." It sounds wrong in Aerith's sweet, warm voice, such a grim statement. Tifa looks up, eyes wide. Aerith looks sad, but not surprised.
"I don't understand," she chokes, taking her hands from Aerith's and covering her face. Aerith embraces her gently, guiding her face down into her shoulder. Her burgundy jacket smells like fresh turned soil and flowers. Tifa cries quietly.
"I'll be honest, I'm glad you don't understand." Aerith says quietly, warm, rough small hands rubbing small circles on the bare skin of Tifa's low back. Barret makes a gentle questioning sound on Tifa's behalf. "If you understood how the minds of such monstrous people work, it would be at the loss of your beautiful, kind soul, Tifa." Aerith says softly and Tifa blushes, surprised by the compliment.
"These people… for them there is no value in a single human life, much less all those on the Plate. They can't see any worth in them, I think, and so they feel nothing. The only things of value to them are themselves, their goal, and money. And they decided that all those people were… an acceptable loss. I'm glad you don't understand them, because now all those souls have someone to mourn for them. To be grieved that they're gone. Even if you never knew them, you feel for them. That's beautiful, Tifa, even if it's painful." Aerith squeezes her tighter, just a little bit, and then lets go, letting Tifa step away a little. She smiles at Tifa, not the bright, fearless smile she'd gotten used to in Corneo's Mansion, but something soft and sad and old. She wipes the tears from Tifa's cheeks with gentle fingers.
"Let's get you cleaned up a little, Tifa. Hopefully Cloud will wake up soon." She says gently, and Tifa nods.
