7. A Captain Once Again
1
"Just look at that goddamn thing!" Cid Highwind bellowed to no one in particular. His gray eyes were focused on the rusting rocket that sat on the back edge of the quiet town. "Day after day - forget that, year after goddamn year - it just sits there . . . as still as its goddamn launch pad."
This wasn't quite the truth however, and Cid knew it. Over the course of time the monolithic, dark green rocket had begun to lean back towards the center of town. Even now its shadow overtook a cluster of homes that hadn't even existed back when the rocket was originally supposed to launch, and one day it would fall and demolish them.
"What a frickin' waste!" Cid yelled, and he saw some of the passersby turn away from his gaze. The way the citizens of Rocket Town acted around him made him feel like he was some sort of authority figure, but he'd only been the Captain of what was once the most important mission Shinra, Inc. had ever financed.
And sure, he still allowed them to call him 'Captain', but more and more as the tired weeks drifted by he felt his mouth souring at the sound of his moniker.
Because what am I really a captain of these days? he asked himself. Captain of a boring town? Captain of an old rocket and a tired launch pad?
He kicked at the dirt on the ground.
No . . . I'm just a fallen Captain . . . and that's all I'll ever be . . .
He turned away from the rocket and looked at the various roads that intersected between houses and shops. It wouldn't be a bad thing to live the rest of his life here in the hushed town formally known as Janisville, but Cid Highwind had always wanted his life to mean something more.
He'd done a lot of great things for the Planet, as well as for Shinra, Inc., and he'd have those achievements to look back on when everything else seemed insignificant. His own name was decorated on the side of Shinra's finest airship, which these days was doing little more than the rusting rocket behind him.
An old man with a significant beard approached the picket fence that he'd been standing at moments ago, and Cid recognized the man for what he was.
A chatterbox and a gawker . . .
Before the old man had a chance to open his mouth Cid turned in the direction of his modest-sized house and began to walk.
2
Cid immediately regretted the decision he'd made to avoid the old man's repetitive conversation. The old man might have been a bore, and Cid knew just how well his quavering talk of the past dug into his own emotional innards, but nothing the old man could have said or done could ever have made him feel as angry as Shera did.
To the woman's credit – and Cid rarely gave her anything as luxurious as the benefit of the doubt – he had been in a bitter mood even more so these past couple of weeks because of what had transpired in Gongaga.
He had never seen Bugenhagen so upset, the old man's eyes bloodshot, his weathered face gray as a sky moments before a storm.
The old man had told Cid what he could, and regardless of the fact that Cid hadn't really known the man's 'grandson' Nanaki, Cid had still found himself feeling more than horrible for the old man during the flight back to the canyon, and even more so as he flew solo back to Rocket Town.
Bugenhagen had never been anything but a friend to him and his father. And even after his father's death the old man from the canyon would still talk with Cid about this and that. Bugenhagen's involvement in Cid's life had actually helped further along the building of the rocket and the power built within it – a power that would've taken the mobile structure out of the Planet's atmosphere.
So with everything bouncing around inside of his steaming mind, Cid's only desire was to seek solidarity within his own home.
Instead of solace, Cid found a mess.
3
"Cid!" Shera screamed, shock and tentativeness displayed on her face. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon! I . . . I . . ."
"What the hell does it matter what time I'd be getting back!" He looked away from Shera's face and back to the broken kettle and its spilled contents. "It's a goddamn mess!"
"I'm sorry," the woman replied shyly. "It was an . . ."
"Let me guess!" Cid shouted, feeling everything in his body flaring. "It was 'an accident'." He said this as annoyingly as he could, trying to force some understanding onto the cowering woman in front of him.
"Cid . . ."
"It's always a goddamn accident, isn't it?" he hollered. "Isn't it?"
Before she could reply Cid screamed and kicked his booted foot out, sending the kettle into a nearby wall in a dozen different pieces.
"Clean this shit up!" Squeezing his fists so hard that the top of his hands turned a deep red he exited the room, fuming vulgarities as he left.
4
Sitting in bed Cid somewhat regretted the rash actions he'd taken. He didn't feel any sympathy for the idiot woman, but he regretted letting himself get so worked up over one of the thousands of mistakes that she made on a daily basis.
Although nothing will ever compare to the mistake that I made so many years ago . . .
Thinking this Cid did feel a morsel of regret somewhere deep within himself. It was almost as if he'd thought, 'I wish I had fulfilled my dream . . . I wish you had ended up dead . . .'
But things hadn't gone that way, and after his dream had been cut short he'd at first gone numb, and then over the years as his emotions thawed he soon found himself in terrible rages.
And I bet that bitch Shera is the cause of more than half of them, he thought darkly, even now feeling the desperate attack on his insides.
Over the years he asked himself again and again why he let her remain in the house. But he knew – and he thought she knew as well – that he still needed her in some form or another, despite the relationship they'd had before his dream had died.
She cooked for him, she cleaned for him, and she even dealt with some of the bureaucratic nonsense the Shinra sent his way.
And she puts up with my anger, he thought. But why? Could she still love me after all of this time? Or is it just because she feels guilty for what she's done?
Cid wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that, and wasn't sure that it would change anything anyways.
He'd tried time and again to calm himself around her – anything from deep breaths to counting to ten to forcing an untimely smile. But when something unexpected happened, no matter the importance of it, and Cid found that Shera was to blame, he snapped, and in seconds was out of his own unsteady control.
He may have loved her once. He may have bedded her and given himself to her completely. But that was a long time ago, before the incident that would make his sad life what it now was. And even though his feelings were admittedly mixed, a part of him hated her with everything that he possessed.
For such a boring life I sure have a lot to complain about, he thought, but then he found he was tightening his fists. Although I suppose I have the goddamn right to complain, don't I? What a shitty deal I ended up with in this life . . .
He turned over in his bed and saw a picture Shera had taken of him years ago. He was smiling, a smoking cigarette in one hand, his other gesturing to the newly-built rocket behind him.
Cid turned away from the picture, grimacing, and then closed his eyes.
5
He woke to the sound of soft knocking on his bedroom door.
"Go away," he mumbled, anxious to fall back asleep, to get back to the dream he'd been having, the one he always had.
However, instead of going away, Shera slowly opened the door and stepped into his room. "Cid . . ." she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Cid opened his eyes and then glared at the woman in front of him. "Are you deaf, Shera? I said go away!"
After a pause and a quick breath Shera took a tiny step forward and said, "But Cid . . . it's important . . . I think . . ."
Cid shook his head and felt his body succumbing to madness.
To go from such a beautiful dream to this . . .
He sat up, startling her, and shouted, "Its important . . . you think!?" He raised his arms in his signature 'what the hell' gesture. "Damnit, Shera! I know you're not completely stupid! Can't you tell that now's not a good time! Can't you tell that I'm not in one of the best moods of my life right now!?"
After a moment Shera replied, "I . . . I can tell, Cid . . . but it does seem important. I'm sorry I woke you, but I think the man on the phone has news for you that could put you in one of your better moods . . ."
Cid stared at her for a moment, searching for the meaning behind her words. When half a minute had passed he swallowed his prideful anger and asked, "I've got a phone call?"
The woman nodded. "From the Shinra . . . the man called himself Palmer . . ."
Cid sighed, knowing that he was already getting his hopes up, but got out of the bed all the same.
"The phone in the kitchen, Cid . . ." Shera hastily added as Cid strode past her and out of the bedroom.
What could that son of a bitch want? he asked himself as he arrived in the kitchen and saw the receiver sitting on the countertop.
He picked up the phone and asked, "Palmer . . . what the hell do you want you fat piece of shit?"
"Oh," Palmer's voice squeaked on the other end of the line, "that's a real nice greeting, Mr. Highwind. It's nice to hear from you, too."
Cid shook his head, already wishing he'd ignored Shera and had gone back to sleep. "It's not nice to hear from you," Cid said. "And I won't repeat myself again. What the hell do you want?"
"No, Cid," Palmer said, and giddiness could be heard within his voice. "That's not the way this is going to work. I'm the one with the information here . . . information that I know you would surely like to have . . ."
"Okay, fine," Cid said. "I'm hanging up . . ."
The rotund man on the other end of the line laughed. "You won't . . . I can guarantee that. You know as well as I do what a call from me could possibly be about."
Cid closed his eyes, considering if he should hang up anyways, but it wasn't long before he asked, "Is it about . . . you know what?"
"Gee, I see that someone is suddenly interested in what I have to say . . ."
After resisting the urge to scream into the receiver, Cid said, "Palmer . . . say what you have to say . . ."
"Well, technically . . ." Palmer began, "I'm not at liberty to tell you much."
"Goddamnit! Then what the hell . . .?"
"But," Palmer said, taking back control of the conversation, "I can tell you this." There was a brief pause and then Palmer continued, "The President has recently come to his senses about many things – it's a long story. And although he may be young, he seems to be driven with the same intensity that his father was driven by . . ."
"Palmer . . . get on with it," Cid begged.
"And he specifically told me . . . to get in contact with you," Palmer continued.
"With me?" Cid asked. "What for?" He didn't know much about the former President's son so he wasn't sure where this was going, even if his heart pleaded for the words that would make everything better again.
Palmer laughed again. "As I said, I'm not at liberty to discuss much over the phone – to be honest I don't know much myself at this point – but from what I've heard I think you will soon be a very happy man."
Cid felt his legs go numb, his head suddenly felt too heavy for his neck. "Palmer . . . are you saying . . .?"
He couldn't finish his thought.
Could it be? Could it be? Is this really happening?
He looked behind him and saw Shera standing next to the center table. Before he knew what he was doing he smiled in her direction.
"I'll repeat, I don't know all of the details, Cid," Palmer said. "But if I were you I'd get myself back into that rocket . . . and, you know . . . check things out . . ."
Cid dropped the phone.
Is this happening? Am I dreaming?
Everything in the past decade that had driven him to ulcer-producing fits of frenzy suddenly vanished.
He abruptly fell to the tiled kitchen floor, and knew that he was already crying.
Shera immediately rushed to him and asked, "Captain . . . are you okay? Is everything okay?"
Cid continued to weep tears of joy. He nodded when he looked at her and said, "Yes . . . everything is wonderful . . ."
He felt Shera rubbing his back with her hand and for the first time in forever he wasn't repulsed by her touch.
I'm a Captain, he thought. I'm a real Captain again . . .
