Disclaimer: Hey - I don't own FF7 or it's characters. Cough.
"Bout time you guys got here!"

Cloud's initial reaction to seeing The Captain was one of relief. During the long journey to Rocket Town he had prepared himself for the worst, while trying to reassure the others. Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Vincent and Yuffie had made the trip. Cait Sith had proven unreachable while Red XII could no longer leave his home, since he had finally proven strong enough to be it's protector.

The man in front of Cloud seemed perfectly healthy - not at all like he had been expecting to see. He remembered Shera's phone call.

"It's Cid - he's dying."

He had found that difficult to believe when he had first heard it, and now he found it impossible to believe. By all accounts Cid should have been lying on his death bed. Yet here he was, standing just outside his home in Rocket Town, the same adventurous glint in his eyes as always, the same edge to his voice, the same energy, even the same outfit he had worn all those years ago.

"What the fuck are you all standing there lookin' at me like that for? I look like a retard or somethin'? Get your asses in my house NOW!" Cid shouted before walking back inside. He walked just fine - no sign of tiredness or weakness at all.

"He don't look like he's dying," Barret echoed Cloud's thoughts aloud.

"Shera wouldn't have alarmed us unnecessarily," pointed out Tifa.

"You know that that woman's like. He probably sneezed or some shit like that," Barret countered.

"Barret!" objected Tifa. "Shera would only call us here if it was serious."

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS STILL OUT THERE!?" came Cid's voice from somewhere inside. Cloud scratched his head, shrugged and walked in.

"Yeah, it's freezing out here," said Yuffie before following.

"We will confront Cid about the mater directly, " said Vincent who went in next. Tifa hesitated.

"He ain't gonna fall ill just 'cause we go inside Tifa. Whatever's wrong, it's wrong whether we know 'bout it or not, " said Barret. Tifa smiled weakly and she and Barret went in together, Barret closing the door behind them.
The scene now reminded Cloud of their first time in The Captain's home all those years ago. They all sat around the kitchen table while Shera made some tea. Cid's feet were placed on the table (much to the annoyance of Shera, although she said nothing) and the old pilot was muttering away about how they never visited him. Yuffie wondered then if this whole thing hadn't just been a ploy for Cid to reminisce and talk his boring talk about flying machines.

The house looked much the same as ever to Cloud's mako-infused eyes. Shera looked a little older around the eyes than she had in those days and Cid was maybe a little less... vocal towards her. Of course Yuffie and Vincent hadn't been here back then. Right now Cloud felt like they'd missed out on the best experience in the world, even though he hadn't really liked being here at the time, hadn't even thought too highly of loud-mouth Cid...

"Aren't any of you gonna say anything? Ain't you glad to see me again?" asked Cid then, cutting off Cloud's reminiscing.

"Of course we are!" said Tifa. "It's been much too long since we got together last."

"It wasn't that long ago was it?" asked Yuffie.

"Fuck you talking about? It's been three years!" snapped Cid. Cloud observed that Shera was glancing over nervously. He decided it was time to cut the small talk and to try and find out what was going on.

"Uh.. Shera... Shera... called us..." tried Cloud.

"What do you want? A 'Shera Called Me Medal!?' They don't fucking give out awards for that!" yelled Cid.

"She uh, said uh..."

"Shera tells us you're dying," said Vincent casually. Cloud's mouth hung open mid-sentence. He managed to close it, but when he heard Cid chuckle it fell open again.

"Yeah. 'Fraid it's true," said Cid. Cloud's eyes fell to the table. Tifa blinked back tears. Yuffie looked quite sad as well. Barret's face was difficult to read, while Vincent showed no emotion at all. It was Shera who burst out crying, just as the kettle finished boiling. "Shera, not this again. Just worry about the damn tea!"

"I'm sorry captain," she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Call me Cid for crying out loud. I think you've earned that right," said Cid.

"But you look fine," said Tifa.

"I feel just fine too. But there's no doubt about it - I ain't got much time left."

Shera came over with the tea now, shaking ever-so-slightly as she poured it for everyone.

"The Captain has a heart disease. It's very rare. We were lucky we were even able to identify it at all. He had some discomfort. At first we thought it was heartburn but when it persisted I made Cid go see the doctor," explained Shera.

"Hmph - I'd like to see the effort it took to get Cid to see a doctor," said Barret.

"She can be pretty forceful, let me tell ya," said Cid.

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" asked Cloud.

"If there was don't you think we'd have fucking done it? Think before you speak Cloud!" barked Cid. He swept his feet from the table, sat back in his chair and drank his tea. The others took a few moments to think about what they'd been told, to let it sink in and to try and accept it. Cid was rather touched by it, but he didn't let on.

"How long you got?" asked Barret finally. Cid shrugged.

"Few days. A week tops," he replied. "Look guys, I appreciate you all comin'. But don't go worryin' on my account. Ol' Cid here's prepared for it. Always have been. Death comes to us all. We can fight a lot of things in this world, but we can't fight that simple fact. There's no point in worrying about what's gotta happen. So I figure I'm gonna just enjoy what time I have left and not worry about things. So what I'm trying to say is: DON'T LOOK SO DAMN DEPRESSED! You think I wanna spend my last days lookin' at a bunch of miserable faces!? Hell no. So try and cheer up!"

Most of them forced smiles and drank their tea quietly.
On the outskirts of Rocket Town, a small, fat, balding man was standing in the shadows, away from any undesired attention. The years since the fall of Shinra had been hard on Palmer. True, he had never been one of their 'major' players, but he had been well paid and well kept. Since then his life had fallen into ruin. He had been unable to find employment, unable to find any allies and unable to piece his life back together. There was no solution to these problems that he could think of. Yet he no longer cared. The only thing left for him now was revenge. That had been what had kept him going since the demise of Shinra Inc. Everything from Shinra had been destroyed - well, with the odd exception. He had managed to survive for one thing. And before the near-complete destruction of Midgar and the Shinra Building, he had managed to find - and salvage - one of it's best kept secrets. A weapon - one of great power, one which could truly express the bitterness and hatred which had consumed Palmer in the last several years.

The trouble with it was that it had not been completed. When the Neo-Midgar project had been announced, the weapon project had been abandoned (along with, thought Palmer bitterly, the space program). Palmer had managed to remove the weapon before the destruction of Midgar, but he had not the knowledge or ability to complete it by himself. It had been difficult. Many times he had felt like he would never succeed. But when hatred burns deep enough within a man, many things are possible. He had found scientists, ones with enough knowledge to complete the project. They were many leagues away from the genius of the late Hojo, yet as the years passed they became dedicated to the completion of the project.

There were three main reasons for this. One, they had a great devotion to their field - a weapon like this was a very ambitious and exciting new project. Two, Palmer forced them to work hard on it. Palmer was largely thought of as a joke when he worked for Shinra. Sure, he was a useful tool for Shinra when they were interested in the space program, but he was weak, non-threatening and at times incompetent. But tough times could create tough people, and Palmer was a man possessed by the weapon and he drove his workers hard.

The third reason was the strangest of all. Some of the workers actually grew very fond of the weapon. They felt that it was calling out to them, asking for their help in it's completion. Some even fell in love with it.

"It's almost time. Are you ready?" asked Palmer, even though there was apparently no-one else around. After he spoke however a shadow seemingly came to life, and a figure - who had previously disappeared perfectly into this shadow, stepped out. She was a young woman, seemingly in her twenties, dressed all in black cloth which covered almost every part of her including most of her face.

"Yes," responded the weapon.