Absolute Altitude Chapter 4, a final fantasy vii fanfic

Cid was going to have to remind himself to cut back on the sugar. If the pre-rocket launch celebrations were going to be like this, he couldn't imagine the sort of rowdy shit that was going to go down after he came back. Man, the town was full of roughed up knuckles and hicks, but boy did they know how to pop it off.

The Captain was on his second beer, and possibly third slice of cake (maybe tenth slice for the whole week) when the loss of the sun slowly robbed the interior of the diner of light. It was almost too loud down in the dining district to focus on anything. You'd think it'd be easy to stare out a restaurant window, but bodies passed this way and that way, and bursts of laughter blared from every other corner. He could see why Shera, as quiet as she was, might not have wanted to come down this way again. He'd texted her before loitering in his usual seat at the bar top.

Snickering, Cid had shaken off some passing, congratulatory pats on the back, and nosy faces trying to sneak a gander at his phone screen over his shoulder. He got a very late reply; of course, Joules was working. Placing his phone away in his pocket, Cid clicked his tongue in disappointment and poised his bottle to his lips for another swig of his drink.

"Shouldn't you be refining things with the main crew, Highwind?" The barstool at Cid's side swiveled and squeaked. He didn't need to look to see who it was; he could smell Robin's cologne before he sat. "Spend what? Two years? Getting ready for the whole shebang, only to get rusty two days before."

"You know, Rob, it don't take any energy to mind your own damn business. But you never could do that, could you?" Cid downed the rest of his bottle, and sat up straight in his stool. He pushed the empty container over with all the others and the glass between them loudly clinked. Grunting, Cid made himself more interested in the rest of his cake. Robin was the last person deserving of his spare attention.

"Ah, Cidney, you've always been a sweetheart. I'll take the kind advice to heart." Robin muttered and pressed his elbows down on the wood tap. Leaning over, he propped his chin on the back of his folded hands. "Didn't mean to kick you out the other morning."

"Yeah, you did."

"It was just corporate. That's all." A waitress came around to Robin's side, and slid a plate of something hot and fresh in front of him. The other man whispered a thank you, and then opened up some rolled up silver wear. The bartender, who pretended to not be listening to anyone in particular, replaced Cid's empty bottle with another, and then set one out for his unwanted company.

Cid took up the replacement bottle after his cake was gone. He paused to wash out his mouth with the cold, frothing liquid before speaking again. This time, he offered Robin unfriendly eye contact. "Wanna tell me why you're talkin' to me?" The Captain narrowed his eyes further and pursed his lips over the edge of his bottle's opening. He was trying to read the other man's intentions, but beard and all, his face was like wood.

Robin's temple twitched with the slight clenching of his jaw. He prodded the gravy drizzling his dinner steak with a fork. "Just wanted to chat." There was a low exhale through his nose; mutual irritation. "Nothin' more than that. I take it you've been really busy. Wouldn't think you'd have time to spare hanging around here."

"I don't want a damn thing to do with you, and you still find a way to chaperone my fuckin' time. Hey, look, I have been busy, so I figure I deserve some time to do what I damn well please before I take off. Do you have a problem with that, too?"

"What you damn well please?" Robin spoke around a full mouth. He wiped the corners with a napkin, and then dryly laughed. His smile was a bitter one, Cid could tell. "That's real funny, because, I'm sure 'what you please', is all you've ever gotten to do."

The Captain slammed his bottle down on the counter top. His jaw and chin dimpled with annoyance. He could see the bartender slow his spot cleaning at the corner of his eye.

"So you came and bothered me so you could throw another fucking pissy fit? Is that it, huh?" He should have known. Robin did this every damn year since they split. Every. Damn. Year.

It was usually some bitter griping, but in all, it always boiled down to

"Just came to remind you, that you can't cut me off. I'm here whether you like it or not."

That.

"I'm not doin' this with you again. Move the hell on." Cid purposefully neglected to raise his voice; as much as he wanted to. "You weren't qualified. Still aren't qualified. Do something else. Or do all of your talents fall under vindictivism?"

"That's a big word coming out of you." Robin calmly reached over the barrier of space between them and took a hold of Cid's bottle. His brown eyes gleamed as he raised it to his lips and swallowed down a considerable amount. Cid would have punched him if he wasn't currently in his right mind…and maybe if the bartender wasn't coiled like a rattle snake.

Muscling past the liquid anger drumming in his ears, Cid rummaged around in his coat, and pulled out a cigarette from the carton in a breast pocket. He found the lighter soon after, and then dragged over an unused ashtray when it was lit. "Find somewhere else to sit. I'm fine by myself."

"Fine by himself, eh?"

Robin hummed low from somewhere in his throat and his shoulders stiffened. Once Cid's bottle was empty, he moved on to the beer that was intended for him. While turned, his eyes were hidden; shadowed beneath the light of the overhead restaurant lamp. Swirls of fresh cigarette smoke rose over their heads. The way it plumed, it could have stood-in for the contempt Cid would have been puffing from his flared nostrils otherwise.

The Captain's unwanted company stuffed a bit more food in his mouth, and spoke again around it as if the chalky, tobacco air surrounding them wasn't stretched like an aimed rubber band. Cid was expecting him to continue to bitch and gripe, but he changed the subject.

II.

"So when are you gonna go rotten on her?"

"Excuse me?" Cid plucked the filter from his lips and ashed his cigarette in the tray. Though still full of rowdy patrons, the interior had grown even darker as it revolved from evening into night.

"The half breed you yank around on a leash."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Your hapa girl. Hear she's one of those frumpy but sweet types." Robin finally got around to meeting Cid's eyes again. The Captain was visibly turning red, but Robin's expression was just as steady as when he sat. Whether he was being mischievous or fully serious; it was hard to tell.

"Had to bring something to her the other day, actually. She looks a lot different without the work clothes. Shera, that's her name right?" Robin knew exactly what her name was. He placed his fork down to pensively rub his covered chin. "Had on a pair of shorts, I think, on her porch. Man," He whistled "damn, nothin' but legs and thighs. I didn't think soft girls were your thing. You'd bruise her up with that booby-trapped personality of yours."

Without another word, Cid pulled himself up from his bar stool, and smothered his cigarette in the rest of Robin's meal.

The bartender couldn't have moved fast enough. A crack and shatter of sound, specifically, from a bottle making contact with the back of Robin's head, left the diner instantaneously silent. The bell rang on Cid's way out.

III.

Sometimes, Cid's moods were hard to decipher, but Shera could tell he seemed a little sour this morning. His name was being called this way, and that way as they were going over a few last minute details for the big day tomorrow. She wanted to scurry about in the same excitement, but things didn't feel quite right. Being aware of his momentary lack of enthusiasm made it hard to focus.

"Are you feeling alright today, Cid?" Shera tapped the material of his under-jumper. They had just finished making sure everything was still properly functioning on his cabin suit.

The tension over Cid's brows eased, if only a little. His eyes flickered in her direction. The sea water of his irises were still distant, but warmed considerably. "M' alright. Just thinkin'." The Captain offered his assistant a smile in assurance. He rubbed the underside of his nose, partially from anxiousness and hay fever, and finished removing the rest of his black protective wear.

Shera turned her back to give him some privacy. "Are you…nervous?" He'd probably been asked that more times than he could count by now, but she didn't know what else to say.

The sound of him clearing his throat mingled with the pull of the zipper keeping his last layer in place. Material shuffled, followed by what she figured was Cid placing on his regular clothing. "I felt like that a while ago, but I don't figure m' nervous anymore. I'm ready to go. S'been long enough."

"Tomorrow's a big day." Shera took a deep breath. "I almost can't believe it." She fiddled with her fingers. She felt like maybe they should talk about…where they stood before he left. But, it looked like he already had enough things on his mind.

"Yep. You can turn back on around now." Cid dug his belt through the loops of his trousers, and then fastened the buckle. "Can't fuckin' wait. After we get through all this time consuming nitpicking, it's lift-off." He stuffed on his shirt, jacket, and then his gloves.

Shera's eyes wondered up to Cid's forehead. The goggles he had taken to wearing were missing. She was starting to get used to seeing him have them on. "There's a method to the madness, I can assure you, Cid." She stood from her perch and clutched her well used clip board to her chest. Shera really wanted to be on another subject. The Captain must have saw it in her eyes, because he placed his hands on his waist and tilted his head.

"What?" Cid grunted.

"Um, nothing." Shera put on another gentle smile. Her hand rose to her forehead in a salute. "Good luck tomorrow, Captain Highwind. I've got a few last things to do, so, I apologize if you don't happen to see much of me before you take off."

"Eh?" Cid surprised her then; he actually pouted. "So I figure it's you now who's doin' all the nitpicking, huh?

"You caught me."

IV.

He was almost unrecognizable with the bandage wrapping his head. It was the dense presence Robin brought with him that alerted Shera that he was even there. She ducked out from behind the corner, looked out, and saw him treading the work terrace extending over the chamber. She didn't make a sound; listening to the crinkle of paper in his hand, and something he was muttering to himself in a language she recognized. What was he doing here? She was certain, that if he worked for ShinRa, this wasn't his department.

"Excuse me?!" Head craned upward, Shera swung her leg over a bundle of piping and called out to him.

Robin paused the unpeeling of a ladder, and glanced down at her. His dark brown eyes, as usual, were unreadable. "Hey."

"This area is only for authorized personnel. It needs to be cleared out in preparation for launch tomorrow." Shera pulled herself up to the stairs; meeting Robin on the other side of the metal platform. She could feel he was in as foul a mood as Cid had been this morning. Her eyes kept curiously falling upon the hidden injury to his head.

"I'm aware. Besides, I have authorization. I was sent here to make a fix." Robin held up the crumpled paper in his hand. It was clearly the reform she had called for earlier that month. They really had to be kidding her. They had all that time to fix this, and they chose nearly the last minute to do so, and with a person that didn't even belong here.

"I see, well-"

"I won't be long." Robin cut her off. His demeanor shifted and it unnerved her. All of a sudden he was interested in conversation; giving her the same roaming glare he had on her apartment porch.

Shera attempted to turn tail down the stairs before he could open his mouth again, but he moved to hold out his arm and bar the exit rail with a long arm. She tried not to show how alarmed she was, and took a step back to remedy Robin's broad chest being the only view past her glasses.

"Do you have a minute?"

Shera's mouth gaped open and her brows were drawn tight over worried eyes. She wasn't sure if she should refuse to humor him. Something told her that his question was rhetorical.

"I have other things to do. Excuse me." Shera anxiously pressed her frames up her nose. She made a motion for him to remove his arm and allow her leave.

"I just want to warn you. That what you're doing, isn't worth it."

The muscles in Shera's forehead grew so tense, it could have given her a headache. Every feature in her face hardened in response. "I said, I have other things to do."

Robin's own tree bark expression finally lit up with intrigue. He searched her eyes, and then sighed. "I meant Cid. You're doing a lot of this for him, aren't you? He's real sweet on the eyes, isn't he? A killer smile, and a can-do-only-if-I-want-to-attitude? Can't get enough of it, right? He's a motivator; it's what he does." He paused. "But, I'm telling you he's not worth it."

Leaning down, Robin made his eyes level with hers. He was close enough for her to smell the antibacterial beneath the gauze of his bandages. Even though Shera defiantly kept her mouth shut, he continued.

"He'll find something about you he doesn't like, and he'll hold it against you. He'll tell you you're wrong, and he's right. Nothing you do will ever change his mind once he's decided you're a waste of his time. Cid's not a good guy."

"And how do you know?" Shera's voice was hardly audible. Her eyes kept darting to the stairway as he eased himself up from her personal space, and lowered his arm from blocking the exit.

Robin's temple twitched. "Do you like being yelled at?"

"…No?"

"I think you do." Robin placed more space between them. It was apparent he didn't want to be watched, and was waiting for her to take her overdue leave now.

Shera swallowed the dryness from her throat; still staring Robin down as she backed to the creaking stairway. "I asked you, how did you know."

Robin was quiet for a long stretch of time. It only served to increase Shera's anxiousness.

"Former co-pilot." Was all he said.

Tossing and turning.

The sheets covering her bed were rolled up and untucked from the corners like her thoughts. Shera's mind wouldn't allow her to settle and rest. Something, just wasn't right.

Her anxiety should have been a product of excitement; anticipating the relief of success in her efforts. But Robin's face. She kept seeing it, kept seeing that he didn't want to be watched. Why?

Something, just wasn't right.

VI.

He knew she mentioned he probably wouldn't get to see her. Cid kept hoping to catch little glimpses of yellow, or hear her voice down the hall. But, for much of the morning, he never did. He'd get plenty of time to patronize Shera after he came back, right? Still, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. If there was anyone he wanted to kick this mother fucker off with, it was her.

But, you know what, the cameras were all set up and recording, and every nook and cranny held someone eagerly, or nervously working. Cid willed himself to hold off his distraction. Now was not the time to get all woe-some and bent up in the heart strings. His own mark in history was less than a few hours away. If he didn't already have his cabin gloves on, he would have rubbed his hands in anticipation. Cid's heart was beating a mile a minute, not because he was nervous, but because he was so damn ready. Made for this. Born for this.

"Alright! Alright!" Palmer's voice carried across the room. It looked like he had just rolled out from the command center; coffee in hand. "Is the Cap'n ready to hit the road?"

"Just about. We're on the last layer, Mr. Palmer."

"Hehe! Good, good!" Palmer stepped aside so someone behind him could slink in and get a few last photos. "Everything's dandy at the launch pad. All workers cleared out, and fuel se-cured! All we need is our pilot here. Ready, Highwind?"

"I've been ready for two damn years! Why the hell are you askin' me?!"

VII.

How long had she worked here again? Out of all that time, Shera had never known the front desk to have a line. A long line. Half the people there weren't individuals she recognized, and from her vantage point, the front secretary appeared particularly chatty today.

At any rate, the launch was going to start in just an hour, and she really had no time, care, or patience to wait on casual gossip. Shera was meant to station herself in the command room, but couldn't shake off the need to check on the ENGINE ROOM one last time. Irritated, she pulled her phone from her lab coat pocket to check the time. Forty five minutes until launch.

You know what, she'd just have to go down without any official notification. She didn't have time for this.

Clicking her tongue, Shera stepped out of line and took off in a brisk walk through the clusters of people standing about the open lobby. She hooked around a narrow hallway to a separate check in office. Sliding her official badge through the lock, she opened the office door and manually scribbled down a log note for them to look at later on a high up white board.

She checked the time again. Forty minutes until launch.

Shera got a move on.

VIII.

"Sorry, but all of the chambers are supposed to be clear at this time."

"I apologize, but I really need to do one last check. It's urgent." Shera's hair was a wind rushed mess behind her. She had sprinted all the way down to the launch pad, and ate up the ladder with arms and legs. Her face was flushed and her breathing as short as her current nerves.

"I really can't let you in. There's…" The mechanic currently guarding the door lifted his wrist to view his watch. "About twenty-five minutes until they load up the pilot and begin launch sequence. The only people allowed inside are all we have here to usher the Captain in." He caught on to Shera's shifty movement to where there was more space to slip inside the entryway, and side stepped to block her.

"You've checked this rocket more than enough times, Ms. Joules. Shouldn't you be in the control room with the department head?" Her current time-waster crossed his arms.

"Yes." Shera's voice edged. "But there's a possible fault in the ENGINE ROOM. It won't take me long. I promise."

"Again, sorry, but I'm really not supposed to-" One of the other engineers on the inside came up behind him, and called his attention to something. While he was distracted, she slunk in behind him and toed down to the other terrace. She kept her footsteps just as quiet climbing the stairs to the LOX tanks.

Twenty minutes until launch.

IX.

Cid's blood was a raspy rhythm. He could hardly hear the men calling to him and beginning to lock up the other chambers.

"Good luck, Captain!"

"Be safe!"

"We're praying for you up there, man."

He placed his heavily gloved hand on a passing pipe, and patted the hunk of machinery for good luck. He didn't once look up at the sky that morning, because soon enough, he'd be admiring the vastness beyond it. Footsteps carried across the metal pathways in proud echoes. The cockpit wasn't too much further now. Cid could already feel the controls beneath his fingertips, the shouts and claps of success through the audio connecting him to solid ground, and see the twinkle of stars lightyears away. What a lucky son of a bitch he was.

And he was luckier to have caught the flash of a frizzy, auburn ponytail down the other corridor. Just the gal he wanted to see was shimming up a bracket of space conservation rungs to the line of liquid oxygen tanks.

Boy, that woman was never satisfied, was she?

"Hey!" Cid entered and barked up to her. He roughened his voice, but couldn't hide the smile sitting in the tone. "You work like a fuckin' snail, you know that? Ain't you supposed to be at the control center?!"

"Sorry, I just…I'm not going to make it. I have to fix this." Shera would have jumped down the ladder and hopped to the next one if it weren't completely impractical. She shuffled down to the metal floor, and then trotted over to climb up and check the next.

She wished she had time to explain, but if Cid was here, it was because she really was running out of time. He couldn't have seen how pale her face was, or the restless bags beneath her eyes. The first three tanks she had checked were correct in numbers, but she couldn't rid herself of the dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't be sure until she had checked them all. And as much as she wanted to hastily glance at their individual gauges, Shera knew this one last crucial check couldn't be done half-assed.

Ten minutes until launch sequence.

"Moon'd get tired of waitin' around for your ass. Now that I think about it, it's been waitin' around for you all year like the rest of us. They all look fine, Shera. Stop faultfinding and hightail it out of here."

"I'm sorry, I am, but I really have to do this. Just the last two and I'll duck out with the last of the crew." She could give those a proper check with four minutes to each, right? Two minutes to spare and leave?

"You aren't stupid, so why the hell you'd chose now to do this? You know how much time you've got left, right?"

"I promise I'll be out. Go on ahead to the cockpit, Captain."

Six minutes until launch sequence.

Shera could hear the voices near the exit beginning to thin until she couldn't hear them at all. Her heartbeat thundered beneath her ribs. She was absolutely nauseous, her hands shaking and palms slick with her panic. Tank number seven was not cooperating with her, and she couldn't figure out why. No matter how much she twisted and turned on the adjuster, it Would. Not. Move. The hard metal of the spokes bit in and rawed the skin of her hands till they stung.

Four Minutes Until Launch Sequence.

Shera focused her blurring eyes on the gauge above her, and pushed all of her weight into trying to get the pressure to move back into the proper range. Her teeth gnashed as she fought against pain; sweat trickling down her forehead. She hadn't noticed how much the chamber had warmed since she got there.

Three Minutes Until Launch Sequence.

XI.

"Hello there and Good morning, Midgar!

We are happy to tell you that we are broadcasting LIVE from the Western Continent, just along the very spine of the Nibelheim Mountains... Behind us, we have ShinRa power company's very own Rocket No.26 preparing for a spec-tacular launch!

We have news that the current pilot, Captain Cid Highwind, is loaded, and all systems are go. In a short moment we'll be switching to give you folks an inside look into the command center, and all the minds and faces that helped bring everything together here today.

With just three minutes to spare, three-two-one, lift-off! Let's have a look inside!

XII.

"Captain?"

Engine pressure rising. Shinra No. 26, 3 minutes to launch. Beginning countdown.

"Captain."

Cid sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils. He flipped a few switches; bringing the panel below his fingers to life. He anchored another hand on the thick padding of the body-latch clamp keeping him upward in the hard angle of his seat. For a long while, he stared up at the blinking machinery above him.

"Finally." He was here. He was ready for the rocket to propel them both right up and through the atmosphere. No hard gravitational force could match the swell of excitement he currently held in the very pit of his belly.

"Captain Highwind."

"What?" Cid finally turned up his audio feed and tuned into the murmurs of voices that were a previous background to his thoughts. He decided he really didn't favor their tone of voice. "…what's wrong?"

"Uh, we have a bit of an emergency situation. We're detecting someone near the engines."

Cid's blood ran cold. They didn't have to tell him who. He already figured who it was.

XIII.

"SHERA?!"

She winced at the bark of her name through the crackling overhead speaker. Shera bit down on her cheek till it hurt. She had moved on to the last oxygen tank, checked it in her urgency, and then came back to the same one that had refused any adjustment.

"Are you still in there?!"

"Y-yes, Captain, it's me." Shera wheezed. Multiple systems in the chamber began humming and even to roaring to life. Sweat pouring down her temples, dripping down her nose, and stinging her eyes, the heat in the chamber was starting to become unbearable. Her glasses were fogged, and throat dry. With all her tiredness, and a growing headache, Shera wanted to give up. But she had to fix this, or she was never going to forgive herself.

"You stupid bitch! What did I fucking tell you?! Why are you still here?!" Cid snarled. He ignored the concerned voices in his audio frantically debating what they were going to do. He could hear Palmer shouting: "So that's where she is!" followed by a garbled "C-cut the camera! Cut the camera!"

"I told you!" Shera lifted her voice as loud as she could manage and bellowed back to Cid. "I have to fix this! If I can fix it, everything will be fine! Just continue with the launch. I'll be okay!"

One Minute Remaining.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" How hot was it in there already? "Shera there ain't gonna be a crispy piece of you left if you stay in there. You're not going be okay, you're going to die."

"I don't care!" Shera shrieked with a voice filled to the brim with frustration. "Please, I've almost got it!"

"C-captain?" The audio in Cid's ear crackled. The control room had completely hushed.

"WHAT?!"

"We can't go back on sequence now. The combustion chambers are almost fully warmed. It'll be another six months to replenish what we've already used. It's…it's your call now."

"Shera's still…She's still in there!"

"We know. She wasn't authorized to enter."

XIV.

Moisture trickled down from Shera's nostril. She wiped at it with her sleeve; smearing sweat and the bright red of the bleed across the dingy white of her lab coat. She could see the heat rising in distorting waves from the tops of metal surfaces. She had long pressed up her glasses to her forehead; they were too fogged to help her see.

She almost had it. The metal of the adjuster might as well have been welded in place, but she could finally feel it giving way beneath the now burned palms of her hands; bringing the pressure in the tank tick by tick. Shera wedged herself more into the space; ignoring the heat seeping in through her clothes and scorching her beneath.

XVI.

"Temperatures rising. Thirty seconds until we have to ignite. There isn't any time. Captain Highwind, you're going to have to forget about her."

"Forget her?!" Fuck the engine, Cid was going to ignite. His face had boiled red; teeth pressed tightly together until they ached in his jaw. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Kill her and be a GODDAMN SELFISH MURDERER?!

Let the world know that the sky wasn't the limit?

Or be another good for nothing failure in the record books?

XVII.

Soft hues of orange and yellow tinted the lip of the horizon. The sun, the culprit this time, had risen and found nothing extraordinary to see.

…

XVIII.

Everything was so…bright. It stung in the hazel of Shera's eyes, giving her good reason to close them again. For a while, she was sure that she was dead. She felt weightless, stale, out of body,

Numb.

There was a deep, low sound that felt distant to her at first. She wondered when she was going to be judged and pulled by the waiting ropes of the life stream, until the sound became something familiar. A voice. And then a steady beeping.

Her eyes opened again. They stung a little less; just enough for her to squint with glasses-less vision and assess where she was. Okay, not dead. But maybe it was better she was. She could hear Cid better now. In wearily turning her head, she could see him. He was to the right of her heart monitor and IV, and seated at the very edge of a hard visitor's chair. Whatever hushed conversation was going on stopped, and they twined eyes.

She would trade her own beating heart for warm sea water, but all Shera saw around the depth of his pupils was ice.