Alone time with Aerith

Aerith didn't gasp or slap me. She didn't giggle like a schoolgirl either. She simply stared at me, her green eyes widening slightly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She was a woman who had seen the end of the world; she wasn't easily rattled.

"That's a bold command, Master," she said, her voice steady but quiet. "Is that standard protocol for fixing a computer?"

"Standard protocol isn't working," I replied. "You said it yourself. You're fighting ghosts. To fight a ghost, you have to stop gripping the sword so tight."

I reached out. My hands hovered over her shoulders for a split second, giving her the chance to step back. She didn't move.

I took hold of the collar of her cropped red leather jacket. It was stiff, practical, a piece of armor she had adopted for this committee life. It didn't suit the softness of her spirit.

I slid the jacket down her arms.

Aerith let out a long, slow exhale as the weight left her shoulders. She let her arms fall to her sides, allowing me to pull the sleeves free. I tossed the jacket onto a nearby crate.

She stood there in her simple pink dress. Without the military-style jacket, she looked less like a commander and more like the flower girl from the slums, ****, soft, and undeniably feminine.

"Better?" I asked.

"Lighter," she admitted, rubbing her bare arms. She looked up at me, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "I feel... exposed. Everyone looks to me for answers, Ray. If I take off the armor..."

"Then you're just Aerith," I finished. "And right now, that's who I want to talk to."

I walked past her to the main console. It was a massive bank of monitors and keyboards, humming with the processing power of the town's defense grid. Screens flashed with scrolling code, interrupted by jagged bursts of red static.

"Show me the breach," I ordered.

Aerith stepped up beside me. She leaned over the keyboard, her fingers dancing across the keys.

"It started in the datascape," she explained, her focus shifting to the screen, though I could tell she was hyper-aware of my proximity. "Tron sent a distress signal before he went offline. The Heartless aren't just attacking the walls; they've infected the I/O tower. They're trying to rewrite the security protocols to lock us inside."

She pointed to a sector on the map that was pulsing angrily.

"Here. Sector Zero. If they breach this firewall, the Radiant Garden defenses turn against us. The turrets will target the citizens."

I leaned in, placing my hands on the edge of the console, effectively trapping her between my arms. I wasn't touching her, but I was surrounding her. My chest was inches from her back. I could smell her adorable scent of fresh lilies and rain.

"It's a digital possession," I diagnosed, watching the code pattern. "They're using the data stream as a conduit for darkness."

"Can you stop it?" Aerith asked, turning her head slightly. Her nose brushed against my shoulder.

"I can purge it," I said. "But I need access to the mainframe. Direct access."

I looked down at her. From this angle, I could see the curve of her neck, the ribbon tied in her hair, and the slight rise and fall of her chest under the pink fabric.

"I can open the port," she whispered. Her voice was breathy. The heat of my body radiating against her back was distracting her from the cold logic of the machine.

"Do it."

Aerith typed a command sequence. Her hands were shaking slightly. Access Granted.

A heavy mechanical thud echoed from the center of the room as a hatch in the floor hissed open, revealing a glowing blue pillar of light, the physical interface to the computer core.

"It's open," she said.

She tried to turn around to face me, but I didn't step back. She turned within the circle of my arms, her back pressing against the console, her front pressing against me.

She looked up, her lips parted. We were close. Dangerously close.

"You're good at opening doors, Aerith," I murmured, looking deep into her impossibly green eyes. "But you're terrible at letting people in."

"I... I have to be careful," she stammered, her usual deflection failing her. "People... leave. People get hurt."

"I don't get hurt," I said, leaning closer, my voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. "And I don't leave until the job is done."

I raised a hand and touched the pink ribbon in her hair. It was a symbol of her past, of a tragedy she carried with her.

"You're holding onto so much," I whispered. "Give it to me."

"Give you what?"

"The weight."

I didn't kiss her. Not yet. I moved my hand from her hair down to the side of her neck, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin under her jaw. Her pulse was hammering against my finger, fast and erratic like a bird's wings.

"You want to save everyone," I said softly. "But who saves you?"

Aerith's eyes shimmered with sudden tears. It was the question no one ever asked. Everyone needed the Ancient. Everyone needed the Healer.

"No one," she whispered.

"Wrong answer."

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. It was soft, lingering, and full of promise. She let out a small whimper, her hands coming up to clutch the lapels of my coat. She didn't push me away; she pulled me closer, burying her face in my chest.

"Just for tonight," she breathed into the fabric. "Let me... let me stop being the leader."

"For tonight," I agreed, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me. "You're just a woman. And I'm the one in charge."

The blue light of the core pulsed behind us, waiting. The computer hummed. But in the center of the room, the only thing that mattered was the surrender of the strongest woman in the world.

"Now," I said into her hair. "Let's go fix your computer. And then... we're going to fix you."