043. Angel


God hates me.

Wouldn't be surprising, really.  She wasn't exactly a morally upstanding individual, nor did she have the intention of changing that.  If she actually believed in karma, she might say this was it, but she didn't, and it wasn't.  This was just someone being an asshole.

Aerith had come home late, half drugged from too much time in the ShinRa lab, and wanting just to sleep for about eight days.  The job was becoming more taxing, more painful, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it up.  She'd thought about going for a drink, but that occasional sense of rationality she possessed stepped in and reminded her that she probably wouldn't have made it home if she did that.  Waking up in a street gutter wasn't exactly her ideal morning situation.  

Evidently the child on the front steps of her apartment didn't concur, having awoken in curiously similar circumstances.  That porch wasn't in the greatest neighborhood of Midgar, and was often littered with cigarette butts from the occupants upstairs carelessly tossing them down over the railing of their own tidy doorstep.  

The blond little girl was small, so small that she couldn't have been more than a toddler, perhaps younger.  She sat comfortably in a tattered baby carrier under a blanket, whimpering only once before she became quiet again and blinked big blue orbs up at the brunette.  

Aerith knew better than to question it.  It wasn't a cruel joke, it wasn't that someone accidentally left their child on some stranger's front porch.  Someone had left her there, with her, purposefully, and in such a cliché fashion.

She stepped closer and looked over the child, inspecting for any sign of injury or illness, but the child seemed perfectly healthy and well-fed.  Calm.  Even happy.  Aerith tilted her head, and the girl did the same.  

A breath of laughter passed Aerith's lips at the little girl, and the child smiled.  

It was then she realized that she shouldn't be standing outside with her any longer.  The air was cooling rapidly, and the neighbors were getting rowdy, if the sounds of yelling and glass breaking were any indication.  

Lifting the carrier with a hand, she slid her key in the lock and jerked it clockwise hard, kicking the door open with a steel toed foot.  

"Ash?" she called out as she closed the door behind her, only to be met with silence.  The young teenager was most likely out again, and Aerith sighed, shaking her head and flipping a lightswitch that gave off mellow light from the corner of the living room.  

The little girl cooed, and Aerith looked down at her.  "Somethin' amusing?"

She just smiled.

Chuckling, Aerith lifted the carrier higher and set it gently on the surface of the bar, sliding herself onto a barstool simultaneously.  FIrst thing was first.  She pulled out her PHS and called the police, asking about a missing child.  Nothing that fit the age and description.  She called Midgar's orphanage and asked them the same questions.  There had been a child like this one, but she had been adopted not more than a few days before.  What the hell?  Who would leave this child with her?  She'd have to figure that out later.

Her brow furrowed and she let her shoulders fall as she looked over the little girl again.  "So, why are you here, kid?"

The little girl just blinked.  Obviously, she couldn't speak yet, or she just chose not to.  

"Well, look... you can't stay here."

Why was she talking to this child like she could actually understand?  A sigh escaped her again.  She didn't know, but she was going to do it anyway.

"I've got a kid already.  He's quite a handful as it is, and I'm not really the best rolemodel."

The blonde giggled.

"I drink too much," Aerith tried to convince her.  "I have a shady, questionable job, and my employment benefits are substandard."

The little girl reached out to tug on a tendril of Aerith's coffee colored hair, before attempting to stuff it in her small mouth.

"No, no, no," the victim of the hair consumption interrupted, "you don't want that.  I don't have tasty, or even edible hair."

The little girl laughed and cooed again, still munching happily on Aerith's hair.  

The brunette couldn't help but smile in spite of herself.    Those blue eyes were so bright and translucent; unclouded.  There was no way this child had come from the slums of Midgar.  She hadn't seen an untainted pair of eyes like this in so long that she couldn't even remember.  

It seemed that no matter what age you were, the soul crushing shadows of the streets permeated every set of eyes, dissolved any pleasant demeanor.  Any other pair of eyes she was met with had a telltale Mako glow, much like her own green eyes now did.  That was why she was leaving this place soon.  She didn't want her son there, and Aerith needed to be a bit closer to the ShinRa building.  At least, that was the excuse she was using.  Truly, she didn't want to be reminded of the life she once led every time she turned a corner, and she was bothered that she still had to the urge to visit her old church every time she passed by.  

This tiny person before her was unhaunted, and for a reason she couldn't explain, Aerith desperately wanted to make sure that it never changed.  

She was being ridiculous.  There was no way she could care for this child.  She led a very selfish existence, and she knew it, and any child deserved better.  She'd tried with Ash, she really had, and the sense of failure she bore was too much already.  She'd take this girl to the orphanage in the morning.  

Aerith sighed.  "You got a name, kid?"

Of course the blonde wouldn't answer, and Aerith shook her head.  It was then she noticed the peach colored blanket that covered the little girl.  There was embroidery on the corner in a feminine white print.  She lifted it and turned her head some to see it at a better angle.  Momoku.  

Aerith slowly arched a thin, dark eyebrow.  "Momoku?  That's your name?"

The girl, Momoku, gurgled and smiled happily, small fingers latched onto the lock of hair.  It was contagious, and the tired woman found herself smiling, too.  Maybe she'd let her stay for a couple of days.  "Just quit eatin' my hair, would ya?"

Perhaps this mysterious little person could get a smile out of her angsty son, too.