I know it's Diamond, I'm streamlining
In another world, if Cid were another man, he'd wake to the sun shining prettily through the gap in the curtains, and the songs of the birds in the trees at the edge of the house. He'd wake and he'd take a moment to gather himself, and then he'd become aware of warm, soft skin pressed flush to his own, a leg thrown over his and toes between his knees. He'd find himself smiling, and his fingertips would brush, feather-soft, against loose hair, and he'd feel the heat of breath against his chest. He'd be warm, and sated, and probably ready to go again and he'd be – dare he say it – happy.
But this is not that world, and he does not have a very naked and very lovely woman draped over him in post-sex sleep, and so instead he wakes cold and alone with the red light of Meteor shining brighter than the dawn. There are no birds, there is no heated breath, and there's certainly no satiation.
'Fuck it,' he grunts to himself, scrubbing his face with both hands before tossing the covers aside and hauling upright to get dressed.
He aches all over, from his ankles to the edges of his temples. Giving a few half-hearted stretches to try and get the worst of the aches and stiffness out, he finds a clean pair of socks in the drawer and pulls them on, trying his best to ignore the ache in his leg, where a scar has formed, pink and fresh, almost all the way around. It'll fade, he's sure, and he rarely gets enough of a tan on his legs that the scar will show, but it'll be there.
He's halfway down the stairs when he remembers, very fucking vividly, that he'd kissed Shera. It wasn't really a kiss, but his mouth had touched her mouth, and she hadn't punched him in the teeth for it, and he's pretty sure she knows that he's – he's – that he's in love with her.
It was never really under any doubt, when you actually stop and you think about it. There was no doubt that he was in love with her, and it had only really been his own stubborn fucking will that had meant anything.
'Fuck,' he breathes, and touches his mouth, which isn't burning with the memory of her lips, because he hadn't even really kissed her firmly enough to get a feel of her mouth.
Shaking his head, because he's going to get himself into more trouble than he has time to deal with, he finishes his trek down the stairs and lets himself back into the house, and why he didn't just put the stairs inside in the first place, he doesn't know, but at least it's not raining.
Shera is already up, because of course she is, even though the sky is grey and tinged with red, but she's not dressed yet, in an over-sized T-shirt, the kind she's always slept in (and he's positive this time, even though he's always positive, that it's his – it is) and ShinRa issue pyjama bottoms that are an inch or two too long for her legs, bunching around her ankles in a way that Cid finds entirely too attractive for what it is. Her hair's finger-combed back into a ponytail, her glasses covered in fingerprints, and her black eye is as purple as it was last night, but it doesn't look nearly as swollen as it had.
Just bruised, and ugly, and his fingers itch to get whoever it was that did it, but John had assured him it had been dealt with, and he supposes that he has to take the guy's word for it.
'Good morning, Captain,' Shera says, breezy and light and with a smile that could light the fucking sun.
'Morning,' he replies, and goes to help her with the tea, even though all he really does is get the mugs off the hooks and fetch the milk out the fridge.
'It's still early,' she says, eyeballing him, 'did you sleep at all?'
'A little,' he shrugs, and he doesn't feel all that tired, all things considered. 'I'll probably catch a couple hours when we get airborne again.'
She nods, and potters about. 'Make sure you eat a decent breakfast, then,' she says, 'to tide you over. I haven't had much in, what with everything that's been going on, but it should be enough, I think, to fill you up.'
He thinks, as he takes the tea she offers him, that before – well, before last night – he'd have been annoyed at her mothering, and frustrated by the care she seemed so adamant to pile on him, but now he's softened by it, warmed. She cares, and she shows it in the most traditional, if fussy, way possible, and he needs to reciprocate, as best he can.
'Thanks,' he says, because that's what you do. 'I appreciate it.'
She blushes, pretty and girlish, and ducks her chin. He's not seen her like that for a while, and wonders if that's really all it takes.
'Hey,' he says, as she fusses with some eggs and bread and he watches her, chin on his hand and just, all he can do is absorb her.
She turns, hair falling in a waterfall off her shoulder and curtaining the side of her face. Fuck, she's pretty.
'Yes?'
'I,' he starts, but isn't sure what to say. He knows what he needs to say, and he's almost said it a couple of times, but he can't quite bring himself to do it, can't quite choke it out. It feels – wrong, almost. Like he'd be causing trouble. Starting something he might not be able to finish. No, best to say nothing for definite until he's sure he can do right by it. 'I'm glad you were right about the tank.'
Her lips curl, and she huffs out a laugh, rubs her neck.
'Well,' she says, in that sort of voice she has where she's going to shirk any credit she could rightfully claim. 'I was just doing my job, Captain. And I'm – I'm glad you made it back to earth.'
He looks into the dregs of his tea for a second, and then chances a glance at her; her ears are red, but she's smiling into her own mug.
'Well,' he echoes, 'I had you to fly me, so I couldn't have gone wrong.'
'You're the pilot,' she says.
'Nothing without the team behind me,' he shrugs, as if it's that simple, and it is.
What he really means is; he's nothing without her.
She finishes dallying with the eggs and plants a plate in front of him, and he's grateful for it, he is. Any meal he doesn't have to cook is a meal he's grateful for, even if it is one of the kids' awful cooking. He's perfectly competent, but no sensible man turns down the opportunity to eat without having to cook.
He nods at her, and waits until she's sat with her own plate before digging in.
Breakfast eaten, plates washed, and ablutions complete, Cid hovers at the door. He doesn't want to go, but it's nearly eight, and he wouldn't be a very good captain if he didn't heed his own command.
Shera is dressed now, in her well-worn, familiar mustard yellow sweater and cargo trousers. Her socks look thick and her hair's neatly brushed. She hovers, plucking at threads at the end of her sleeves, and peers at him from behind her glasses, like they're a barrier she can't pass.
'You're going,' she says, and he nods.
'Yeah, it's – it's nearly eight. Can't say I'm much good as a captain if I'm not there on time.'
But he hovers in the doorway, and makes no effort to cross the threshold.
'You'll be safe, won't you?' Shera asks, and inches closer, until she's toe-to-toe with him, her feet looking so small compared to his boots.
Her fingers are still fiddling with her sleeves, and he wants to take her hands, hold them tight, hold them to his heart so she can feel the truth of it when he says he'll do his best.
'I'll come home,' he says, and clenches his fists in his pockets, as tight as he can, nails biting into his calluses. 'One way or the other.'
She nods, and for a moment, her hands hover like she's about to fling them over his shoulders.
'Okay,' she says, with a firm nod. 'I'm – I'll be here. I'll be waiting.'
Before he registers what he's really done, he reaches up and brushes her hair back from her face, tucks it behind her ear, fingers soft against her cheek. She turns into it, just a little, eyes half-shut. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her.
'Shera,' he whispers, and his fingers curl, cup her jaw, bringing her halfway in.
'Yes?' she whispers back.
He's half a mind to kiss her again, to slam the door shut and fuck being on time, but there's a holler from across the way, and he jerks away, turning to find Barret waving an arm.
'Come on, old timer!' he yells, 'time to get moving!'
'Fuck sake,' Cid grunts, and glances back over his shoulder to Shera, who's flushed pink and taking a step back. 'I'd best get after them.'
'Yes,' she agrees. 'Stay safe, Captain, and come back any time you can.'
He nods, and takes one last look at her before picking up his feet and jogging after the ragtag group of numbskulls heading out of town.
Once on the Highwind, talk turns from what good beds they are in the Shanghai to what their next move is going to be.
'Rufus' plan was a failure,' Cloud says, by way of broaching the topic. 'The rocket didn't stop Meteor, and I don't think it would have helped them to have the Huge Materia. It didn't even look like the rocket hit it.'
'We've been causing them no end of trouble,' Cait says, 'but I wonder – were we wrong? I can't see another way.'
Red, looking forlorn and worried and small for all the growing breadth of him, heaves a heavy sigh. 'It makes you worry.'
Tifa snorts. 'Don't worry!' she says, 'think. There has to be another way!'
Cid scratches his neck, and leans on the railing, cigarette in his free hand.
'She's right, you know. Way I see it,' he says, 'once you start worrying, there ain't no stopping it. You worry about one thing, and then it's another and another, and before you know it, you made yourself sick. Things start falling apart and they get worse and worse. Then you're too sick to put them right. But there's – that's why there are doctors, eh?'
Barret raises an eyebrow, his lips twisting into something knowing that Cid knows he doesn't like.
'You're pretty optimistic,' Barret says. 'What got you all perky?'
Cid licks his teeth. 'Just been thinking. Spent a lot of time awake last night, and I was – space made me think.'
'I'll bet it did,' Barret hums, too knowing, and he's put down enough that Yuffie can pick it up, bright eyes and wide, manic grin behind the daze of the tranquilisers.
'You,' she starts, too loud and too full of glee. 'You mean – you and Shera?'
Cid ignores her. 'As I was saying, I was doing a lot of thinking. When you're down on the ground, everything feels – big. It feels so big, the mountains, and the oceans, and the buildings. It's all – big. Bigger than you can really – you can't think about it without feeling – small. But it's not us that's small! It's not us, it's the Planet! We were up there, and we were looking down at her, and she's small, she's just a – a kid, floating in this huge dark universe. She's small, and she's sick – Sephiroth is a fucking sickness, killing her from the inside out, and when you're up there, floating in that darkness, you feel powerless. What can you do to stop it? Fucking nothing. But down here – on the surface, where everything else is so big. The Planet, she needs a protector, right? She needs someone to take care of her the way your dad does, your mum, your whatever. Your doctor, when you're sick. They take care of you, they make you better, they cut the fucking sickness out.'
'Cid,' Tifa starts, and his knuckles crack when he clenches his fist.
'Sephiroth is a sickness,' he repeats, firmer, 'he's a sickness, and we need to cut him the fuck out. The Planet is small, and scared, and she's this tiny little trembling thing in the middle of a fucking huge dark universe, and we are nothing, but we can do something, you know? We gotta do something.'
The entire time he's talking, Yuffie's got that same manic grin on her face, and she's bouncing on her heels, hooting and hollering about him finally getting laid, and how it's been such a long time coming, and how she's so glad she didn't sleep at his house, and he couldn't have talked any louder over her if he tried.
'Yuffie,' he says, finally, because Tifa's looking at him with a softness that makes him itch, 'shut the fuck up. Nothing happened.'
She stops dead mid-yell. 'What?' she asks.
'Cid,' Tifa says, to derail the conversation before it gets started, 'that was – beautiful.'
Barret snorts, though he still has a look of knowing on his face. 'Yo, man, you got to me, and I can't stand that shit. I'm gonna fuckin' cry. So we kick Sephiroth's ass, no problem. But how are we going to protect the Planet from Meteor?'
At this, Cid hesitates, rubs the back of his neck. 'I – I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Just about Sephiroth.'
Tifa snorts, and Barret actually laughs. Yuffie takes this as permission to start back up on the sex thing, and because Red is a teenager, no matter how wise he thinks he is, he starts up as well.
'Oh, shut your mouths,' Cid snorts, and stomps over to the steering yoke. 'Fucking bunch of children, the lot of you.'
He's doing his best to ignore the looks boring into the back of his neck when the Highwind suddenly rocks, and an awful, terrible noise screeches through the air around them, a moaning, screeching sort of sound.
'The Planet,' Tifa says.
'Are you sure?' Cloud asks.
She wrinkles her nose in surprise. 'Did you forget?' she asks, not unkindly. Cid wonders, as he fiddles with the controls, what the inside of Cloud's head looks like these days. 'Bugenhagen told us.'
'Let's go see him!' Red cries out, doing a little hop that takes him almost above Yuffie's head. 'He will be able to tell us something!'
Anything, at this stage, will be worth listening to, Cid thinks, and frowns at the controls. Someone's fiddled with the ship, and the turn axis is far tighter than it used to be as he swings her around.
'Someone's upgraded her,' he says, 'these readings – the engine was always – what a fucker.'
'Cid?' Cloud asks.
'Shera,' Cid says, 'she'd been talking about this hunk of junk's potential since we started building her. She'd always intended to upgrade the engine, get the jets working, but she'd never had time, and then Rufus fucking stole it. That – that was why she was up last night. Remapping it, I guess.'
Cloud eyes him. 'Just for that?'
Cid sneers and shoves at him. 'Fuck off, kid. You're as bad as the brat.'
'You are very chipper,' Cloud says, which is a word Cid hasn't heard in years.
'Mate,' Cid says, and gestures at his leg, 'I had my fucking leg torn apart yesterday, I went to space, I lost the fucking rocket because of you numbskulls and your shit with ShinRa, which sure, I played a part in. But – I went to space! I very nearly died! Let a man live!'
Barret, on the other side of the deck, snorts.
'You aren't defending yourself very well,' he says, 'sure sounds like you got laid.'
'For fuck – Listen!' Cid exclaims, as exasperated as he could possibly be, even going as far as to point his finger at them all. 'You wanna know the sad fucking truth? You know wanna know the joke that is my life? I haven't had sex in – fuck me, the better part of ten years! I was what, twenty-four, when Shera showed up? Fuck it, however long that is, add a couple for the fucking mess I was before the rockets started. Ten years, fuck it! And I certainly did not fucking break that streak last night! Fuck me, you think I'm that much of a savage?'
'But,' Tifa starts, and Cid turns to her, finger pointing wildly.
'Don't you fucking start,' he warns, and she holds her hands up. 'Man has a good mood for once in his life, and suddenly he's getting laid. Fuck me, can't I just have a good night's sleep?'
At this, Tifa laughs, and tells him that she knows him well enough now to know that he hasn't had a good night's sleep in his life.
'Oh, fuck the lot of you,' he snorts, and feels a laugh behind his heart.
Aerith, too, can fuck right off. She's got no grounds to laugh at him.
'Let's just get to Cosmo,' Cloud says, which is the most mature thing he's said in days.
'Thank you, finally, some sense.'
And so Cid steers them off towards Cosmo, and tries to ignore the burning eyes in the back of his neck.
Because Barret is an asshole, he's still chuckling to himself as they disembark, and Cid tries his best to trip him. But for all the hulking size of him, Barret is nimble enough to avoid the attempted injury, and just laughs at him. He opens his mouth, and Cid knows some crude, boyish quip is going to come out of it, so he takes a few long steps and gets out of conversation range.
He might as well have stayed to have that quip thrown at him; by the time they reach the gates of Cosmo Canyon, the atmosphere has shifted from the casual jovial teasing at Cid's expense to a melancholy disquiet, a discomfort in their skins as they look up at the redness of the sky, the hovering Meteor shining like a second sun. Cosmo itself is quiet, and the chap at the door tells them that the children won't come out to play, that they're scared.
'Where is Grandfather?' Red asks, and the chap gestures over his shoulder.
'Same place as always,' he says, 'up in the observatory.'
They trudge up the steps, not saying a word to each other, and find Bugenhagen fiddling with the machines, humming to himself.
'Ho, ho!' he exclaims, as they file in, one after another. 'You've come back!'
Cid looks at Barret, who does a slow peruse of the ceiling, and then positions himself close to the door and out of the old man's line of sight. Yuffie settles herself down at his ankles, head on the wall and arms around her knees. He doesn't pet her hair like a dog, but he rests his fingertips on her crown, just for a moment, before digging a cigarette from his pocket.
'Grandfather,' Red says, as the others cling to the walls as much as possible, out of Bugenhagen's way. 'We need your wisdom.'
'Lost your way, have you?' Bugenhagen asks. 'Well, ho, ho, ho, you must look inside yourselves! Look to the deepest reaches of your hearts, and you will find your answers there! Something forgotten, perhaps! It will come to you!'
Cloud snorts under his breath. 'Easy for him to say,' he murmurs, which makes Tifa's lips twitch. 'I can't remember shit.'
'Then look harder!' Bugenhagen exclaims, gaze fixed so pointedly at Cloud that it makes the boy blush high in his cheeks. 'It will be there!'
Yuffie turns her head to look up at Cid, who looks back at her and shrugs with his eyebrows.
'I don't get it,' she whispers, 'I can't see anything.'
Cid takes a drag of his cigarette, and wonders whether he's thinking about the right thing. He supposes Bugenhagen expects them to have heard something, or seen something, that will give them a hint about how to proceed against Meteor. Fucking Sephiroth up is the easy part, but how to defend the Planet from destruction? A touch harder to get a viable plan together for. But Cid's just thinking about Shera, and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, and how he wants to kiss her properly. And then a tug, on his heart, and he abruptly remembers Aerith, knelt on the altar and looking at them with such an odd peace, a contentment that she'd seen them all one last time, and he chokes on an inhale.
'I think about Aerith a lot,' Cloud admits. A low murmur of agreement ripples across the party, and then he adds, 'and how she – she's been with us, in our hearts, all along.'
'I was thinking the same,' Tifa admits, 'and how – how sometimes, I go to look at her, when I hear a good joke I think she'd like. Or I see a pretty flower, I think she'd like to see it.'
Another ripple of agreement, some low murmurs of other things they'd thought about, little moments where the loss of her had stung the most.
'She said she was the only one who could stop Meteor,' Cloud says.
'Do you think we can carry it on?' Red asks. 'What she tried to accomplish, I mean.'
'We aren't Ancients,' Barret snorts, 'so good fuckin' luck.'
'When she left us,' Cid says, and flinches at the eyes whipping around to him, 'she went to – fuckin' – whatever the place was called.'
'That's it!' Cloud exclaims, and Yuffie flinches back enough to headbutt Cid's knee.
'What's it?' Cid asks, rubbing at his knee. 'Fuck's the matter now?'
'There's something about the city,' Cloud says, hurried and his fingers clicking at his thinks aloud. 'Aerith knew something we didn't – why else would she have faced Sephiroth without running away?'
'Perhaps I should come with you,' Bugenhagen says, 'and see it for myself.'
'You're coming too?' Red asks.
Bugenhagen laughs, and it sounds awfully frail. 'Why so surprised, Nanaki? I like to leave this place from time to time! And besides, we might all die soon, so now's the time to feel the most alive!'
'Perhaps it is the planet!' Red exclaims. 'It is calling you, Grandfather!'
'Fucking hell,' Yuffie whispers, and Cid snorts.
'The Planet is calling,' he echoes, just as quiet, 'hoo boy, sure thing, kiddo.'
He raps Yuffie's shoulder with his knuckles and gestures at the door. She clambers to her feet and follows him outside, the rest quick to hurry after them.
'What a load of shit,' Yuffie says, too loudly, once they're back on the stairs leading down the gate.
'Just because you don't believe it,' Tifa says from some steps behind, 'doesn't mean that others can't. Cid, you're a terrible influence.'
'Listen,' he snorts, glancing over his shoulder and nearly falling down the next ten steps. 'I'm a man of science. Planet-calling mumbo-jumbo ain't my shit, and I ain't about to pretend I care for it. As the old man said, we're going fuckin' die, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.'
Tifa rubs her eyes, and heaves a very heavy sigh indeed. Cid knows full well that unless he finds a very good excuse to stay busy, Bugenhagen is going to collar him and tell him fifteen and one million things about the planet and the beliefs of the Cosmo Canyon lot, and how the Ancients saved the world and all that other bullshit, but Cid, who has refused point blank to put any materia in his spear for some weeks, has no interest in listening. It's close-minded, and he's sure Shera would give him an eyeball or two if she caught him, but he doesn't care.
'Cid,' Barret calls, and Cid, safely back on solid ground, looks back at him, 'if you're all for enjoying yourself, why you here, man? Shouldn't be back home getting Shera pregnant?'
For a moment, Cid feels the entire universe stop dead in its tracks. He's not even sure he's breathing, that his heart is beating, that he can see or hear or smell or exist. Everything has just stopped. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, so drunk he'd come full circle to sobriety, in those early days, when he'd still drank alcohol, before Shera had worn a dress that was too short and he'd gotten himself glassed trying to defend her fucking honour in Wall Market of all places, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it when he was drunk. Only in that kind of way that you have when you're desperately in love with someone and want them for the rest of your life and don't want to admit to it, so you end up drunk and alone in a bar toilet, staring at your cracked reflection thinking about how you terrible your own dad was, and how you wanted to see said love of your life with your baby, and how you'd be a better fucking father than Ricard Highwind ever could have hoped to be. He'd thought about it in that kind of way, where he couldn't remember it in the morning, but had the bad taste in his mouth of someone who'd nearly told the wrong person about said thoughts. And he'd be even more of a fool to not acknowledge, to himself at least, that he'd had thoughts about the process that goes into getting said baby, and he hadn't been drunk to have those thoughts, and so the whole universe collapses in around his temples, because shit, does he talk in his sleep or something?
Then the universe un-collapses, and it crashes into motion once again, and Yuffie's holding his arm so tightly his fingers are going blue.
'Cid,' she says, the other hand on his chest, 'Cid, for fuck sake, old man, calm the fuck down!'
Barret's eyes are wide, and Tifa's mouth is half-open, as if she'd wanted to say something but hadn't dared.
'Dude,' Barret says, with a huffed little laugh that's not really a laugh at all, 'fuck me, man, it was a joke. Taking the piss, aite, like we need another of you walking around, the fuck, man.'
Cid licks his lips, swallows, looks at Barret, Tifa, the ground, the hand Yuffie has around his arm. Slowly, he pats her fingers, and then grips her wrist, pulls her hand away.
'You alright?' she asks, and Cid sighs, slow and deep.
'I'm okay,' he replies, and pats her hand. 'Come on then, we'd better get moving if we're going back to the city before sundown.'
He doesn't sit around with the rest of the party when they get airborne, just gives the trainee directions, and fucks off back to his cabin. Barret says nothing to him, and Tifa just looks at him with a small measure of concern.
Tired, he'd said, that's all. He's just tired, and he's cranky, and he's apparently still a fucking teenager, unable to take a joke about his lack of sex life on the chin. Even though it was less a joke at his expense, and more at Shera's, and don't people know that only the partner or the sibling can take the piss out of a loved one? It's an unspoken rule, you just don't do that shit.
Fuck sake, he's sick of this. He's sick of being away from her, and yeah, alright, fuck sake, yeah, he'd like to – to – he thinks he'd like to be a dad, if they survive all this, maybe. He can't fucking stand kids, but his mother had talked fondly of how Ricard had changed when Cid was born, how he'd felt more complete, and maybe that's the Highwind way. An incomplete mess until the bloodline's secure.
Fucking joke, who gives a shit, he'd take his mother's name gladly. He's the spit of her anyway, blond and blue and with freckles in the sun. The foul temper is all his father.
'So,' Yuffie says, from her spot by the crates as he passes her, 'we gonna talk about that whole thing back there?'
Cid snorts, and twists his lighter in his pocket. 'Kid, if I was going to talk about the bullshit that goes through my head and the bullshit I have to listen come out of all of your mouths, I wouldn't do it with you. No offence, but fuck that.'
'Why did it bother you so much, though?' she presses, though her cheeks are green, 'thought that you two were a done deal and were going to have babies like, next week.'
Cid rubs a hand over his eyes.
'Yuffie,' he says, and hitches his trousers an inch to squat in front of her, 'listen to me very carefully. If Shera ever forgives me for the shit I put her through, and we find ourselves in a position to even consider children, let alone have some, you lot will be the last fucking assholes to know about it.'
She frowns at him. He frowns back.
'I'd be a great godmother,' she offers, and then throws up in the bucket between her knees.
He pats her head, and leaves her to it.
The Ancients' city feels – wrong, somehow. It isn't that there is a stench of death over the place, because they are nowhere near the altar where Aerith died, but Cid feels like they are intruding nonetheless.
Truth be told, he'd rather not set fucking foot in the place again, but he supposes this is out of his hands; he's a part of the party, and therefore must engage with it. Yuffie, woozy and tired, clings close to his side; he doesn't hold her hand, but he leaves it free for her to take, if she finds she needs to. As they traipse along the dusty, empty paths, the place silent and aching, Bugenhagen makes positive little noises, oohs and aahs, saying "yes," and, "I see," as though he is listening to someone speaking to him at length about something interesting. Mad old coot.
Cloud and Tifa go up a set of steps after Bugenhagen, and they're up on a plinth for several long minutes, having some quiet little discussion. Cid lights a cigarette and watches them, but doesn't really give what they're saying any real thought.
'Cid?' Yuffie asks, and tugs at the edge of his jacket.
'Yeah?'
'Do you think she's mad at us?'
'Who?'
Yuffie looks very small, and very sad, and a little bit far too old for how young she is. Again, Cid has the urge to take her home with him, to convert the back room and give her space of her own. Perhaps, even, he could give her one of their bedrooms, assuming they all survive this, and Shera wants to take up residency with him properly.
'Aerith.'
Cid takes a long, thoughtful drag of his cigarette, and frowns at the figures on the platform, waving their hands about.
'What would she be mad at us for?' he asks, because he doesn't see where the kid's going with this.
'For not saving her. For letting her die.'
'She knew she was going to die when she came here, kiddo. I don't think anything we could have, would have, or should have done would have changed that. I don't believe in all that spiritual shit, but these things have a way of happening, whether you want them to or not. Fate, I guess. If you believe in it. She'd already made her mind up that she was going to die, and she'd have been mad at us for stopping her. Or trying to, anyway.'
It isn't the comforting answer that Yuffie wanted, but Cid is not the person to be giving that kind of thing out. All he can do is tell it as he sees it.
'I suppose,' Yuffie breathes, and fiddles with her fingers.
'She's – I don't know if she's in a better place. But she's done what she set out to do, and she had a boyfriend once, she said. Maybe she's with him again.'
'Zack,' Yuffie says, 'she told me. He was a SOLDIER. First Class – a real one, not make-believe like Cloud is.'
Cid snorts. Brutal.
'Bit harsh,' he says, and then shrugs, because she's not wrong.
Cloud and Tifa come back down the steps and re-join the party. Tifa looks contemplative, Cloud pensive.
'Yuffie,' he says, and she perks up, just a little.
'Yeah?'
'There was a note, about a key for a music box, do you know where it is?'
Cid wrinkles his nose.
'Yeah,' Yuffie nods, which makes him unwrinkle his nose and raise his eyebrows instead. 'Yeah, it was in a house, on the other path, I found it but I couldn't get it to do anything. Why?'
'I'll explain as we go,' Cloud says.
Yuffie does grip Cid's hand this time, just his one finger, tight in her fist. He turns his hand as much as he can to close his hand around hers. It's only for a few moments, and then she lets go.
Cloud tells them about Holy, the magic summoned by the White Materia Aerith had proudly proclaimed did absolutely nothing. He seems convinced that it spells the end, because when Aerith had died, it had fallen into the water, and they have no way now of retrieving it. But Holy would take away any badness in the planet, any evil, and it would be strong enough to counter Meteor. But without it, they didn't have a choice.
'Knowing there was something we could have done is worse than not knowing,' he says, and Barret harrumphs.
'You give up too easily, you spikey-brained little,' but he hesitates, unsure what to call him, and so he settles for nothing at all. 'Let's see what this music box is, eh?'
'Somebody's perky,' Cid murmurs under his breath, and Tifa whirls to give him a scathing look.
He holds his hands up, accepting that it was beneath him to be so petty. But it was justified. Fucking prick.
Bugenhagen follows Yuffie's directions and they uncover the music box, the key for which looks more like the bone of some ancient creature than it does a key. Some tinkly little piece of music plays as the key turns in the box, set into the floor as it is, and they all look at each other. Though there had been no occasion for Aerith to play the piano as this piece sounds, she'd hummed the tune often enough that they recognised it.
Yuffie sniffles, and Cid bites the back of his lip. Though they'd talked, a little, about Aerith, and though he'd worked his way through most of the grief that first night on the PHS with Shera, it still catches him off-guard how much he misses her, how much the weight of her is on his – on all of their – shoulders. He misses her, her laugh, her curses, the way she was so easy to talk to and with, the banter and the backchat. He misses the way she'd stir up trouble and then wind it down again. Fuck sake.
The good die young and the bad reap the benefits.
He rubs his eye, itching with dust from the music box, and they all jump at the sound of water.
'Ho, ho, ho!' Bugenhagen laughs, and Red growls a little, because even he finds his grandfather grating, it seems. 'Look at this! Come, come, let us go inside!'
'Inside a waterfall?' Barret asks, but the rest just shrug and follow the old man's lead, crossing a narrow passage to jump through the water and onto the other side, where the little plinth Cloud and Tifa had been on has lowered, granting access to all of them.
Inside, the water is smooth, like glass, or a mirror. It doesn't look at all like there's any movement to the water, just a sheer projection.
'It is a screen!' Bugenhagen crows, clearly pleased with himself. 'It is used to project an image! The Planet will show us what it wishes us to see, and perhaps we might have your answer!'
None of them are expecting to see Aerith again, as she was in those last moments, the smile that had crossed her lips for half a second. Yuffie cries out when Sephiroth descends, and there is no sound, thankfully, accompanying the image, but there doesn't need to be. They all hear the blade run her through, they all hear the tiny gasp of breath. Yuffie's breath hitches, and Cid obligingly turns, lets her hide her face. He can't take his eyes off of it. Seeing it in the flesh – ha! – the first time had been hard enough, but to see it again, to be expected to watch it like they are going to be tested, it's cruel.
Aerith wavers, the light fades from her eyes, and she slumps as the blade withdraws. The projection of Cloud rushes forwards to catch her, and the real Cloud twitches as if to do the same. But then, as they watch, Aerith's happy little humming behind their ears, her ribbon unravels and out bounces the White Materia, small and unassuming and glowing.
'It's glowing,' Cloud says, pointlessly.
'A pale green!' Bugenhagen agrees.
'Then,' Tifa starts, wringing her hands, 'then Aerith's prayer worked? She'd prayed for Holy?'
Cloud nods. 'She did – and she – she gave her future for that. She said that she was the only one who could stop Sephiorth, that there was a secret here. I guess – I guess she knew, then. That there was – there was power here, to help her pray? I'm so sorry,' he tells the fading projection of the flower girl, 'I should have figured it out sooner.'
Tifa lays a gentle hand on his arm. Cid rubs Yuffie's back, and she sniffles into his collar.
'I understand,' Cloud says, louder. 'I know what has to be done. I'll do the rest.'
'I think you'll find you mean we,' Barret scoffs, 'don't think you're doing this alone, punk!'
'She's given us a big fucking gift here,' Cid agrees, 'it'd be a fucking crime if we wasted it.'
'But Holy's not moving,' Cloud frowns, and turns to Bugenhagen. 'Why isn't it moving?'
Bugenhagen does a little twirl, and then taps his chin. 'Something is stopping it.'
At once, they all say, 'him.'
It sounds quite eerie, coming from eight voices at once.
'Told you,' Cid says, 'Sephiroth is a sickness, and we gotta cut him out so the planet can heal. Guess that means summoning Meteor.'
'I think you might be right,' Tifa agrees, and offers Cid a smile that he can't help but return. He feels wrong and out of place and they're all grumpy as fuck today, but she's trying her hardest, and he'd be remiss to not do the same.
'Uh,' Cait says, from some feet away as they leave the waterfall, 'guys?'
'What is it?' Cloud asks.
'So, uh – you remember how – you remember how the cannon disappeared from Junon?'
'Yes.'
'It didn't disappear. It was moved. Rufus plans to destroy Sephiorth with it.'
'Fucking let him,' Cid snorts. 'Saves us doing it.'
'No, you don't understand,' Cait urges, 'he's moved it to where a lot ofMako is stored.'
For a moment, there's silence.
'Where?' Cloud asks.
'Where the fuck else is a lot of Mako stored?' Barret explodes, 'it's gotta be Midgar! Right?'
Cait nods. 'Midgar. They want to open the reactors to full, to give the cannon enough power for the new shells Scarlet's designed. They'll reach all the way to the Northern Crater, and they'll destroy Sephiroth.'
Cid can't say where the realisation comes from, but it comes to him all the same.
'Reeve,' he says, and the cat jumps.
'Captain,' the cat replies.
'It's not going to work, is it?' he asks, if you open the reactors all the way.'
Cait – Reeve, because he hadn't denied it, and Cid had only met him a couple of times, when he'd had to go to the main office for one thing or another, and when the man had comes down to the launch area to discuss building permanent structures there, but he knew enough about him to know he's not a fucking idiot – shakes his head.
'No,' he says, 'no, the reactors aren't built to run at full capacity. It's going to – it's going to destroy Midgar if it's not stopped. Or do some serious damage. Like when the plate dropped, but city-wide.'
Barret whirls around to look at Cloud, but Cloud's already nodding.
'We're on our way,' he says, 'we'll be – Cid, how long will it take?'
'Not long,' Cid assures him, 'I'll do the flying, and the engines should be good for full speed. A hour, two, maximum.'
'Can you stall them?' Cloud asks Cait.
'I'm already trying,' Cait says, 'I'll keep you updated.'
'Come on, then!' Cloud says, already making for the path back to the city entrance, 'we need to mosey!'
'Never say that again,' Barret murmurs, but they all rush off after the SOLDIER anyway.
As they reach the Highwind, the Planet shakes beneath them. They all cry out, yelling varying levels of expletives, and then a scream rattles in their ears, unnatural and ancient.
'That thing again!' Cid spits, 'motherfucker! Get on board, we need a visual!'
Once airborne, they can see it, the thing from Mideel, plodding through the ocean and making a beeline for the Midgar coast.
'Fucking asshole!' Cid snaps, and swings around to the yoke. 'Hang onto your britches, I'll get us there in time to stop it!'
'You think we can?' Barret asks, 'it tore us all a new asshole last time!'
'Last time?' Tifa asks, and Vincent heaves a breath.
'While you were caring for Cloud in Dr Crescent's clinic,' he says, in the slowest possible way, 'it saw fit to attack. We successfully fought it off, but it – was not happy about being resisted.'
'That's what destroyed Mideel?' Tifa gawks, and looks out of the window at it.
'But,' Barret says, 'that new cannon at Midgar should stop it, right?'
Cait shakes his head, 'I don't know if it's ready or not. But even if it is, it'll destroy Midgar! Not that you care, though, hey!'
Cid, focused on the coordinates and making sure they don't crash into any fuckign pigeons, looks across at the robot.
'The fuck did that come from?' he asks, but the cat's looking fierce, for an immovable robot.
'I've been itching to say this for a while now!' he explodes, and Barret looks taken aback. 'I mean, who gives a shit about Midgar so long as Marlene's safe, right? And she is, don't worry! I might have had a hand in kidnapping her for insurance, but I made sure she was safe in Kalm with Mrs Gainsborough, so she's going to be alright. But who cares about the rest! Just destroy Midgar, what does it matter! You blew Reactor One up, and how many people do you think died? Huh? Or do they not matter at all?'
'It was for the good of the planet!' Barret explodes right back, 'you gotta expect a few casualties!'
'The needs of the many, is it?' Cait yells. 'It might have been a few to you, Mr Wallace, but it was everything to those who lost someone! It was everything! You're doing it for the good of planet, so who's going to stand against you? Nobody! Do whatever you want, am I right? Nobody to stop you!'
'I don't wanna hear that from some ShinRa dog!'
'Barret,' Cid interjects. 'Listen, Reeve is – he's a prick, but he's not one of the bad ones. He's urban development, he's about making the city safe for people. And I know, alright! I know he didn't do a good job, don't look at me like that, it makes me sick to defend him, too, but we gotta be sensible about this shit! There's a fucking giant monster out there about to attack Midgar, and we gotta fucking do something about it!'
'Look,' Tifa says, hands out placatingly as always, 'Barret knows what he did – we all know what we did when we blew up the reactor, and nothing we can do will change that! We haven't forgotten, and we'll never forget! But we have to move forward, and do the right thing now! Right, Cloud?'
Cloud looks hesitant, and then jerks his chin.
'Right!' he agrees, 'we'll stop the WEAPON ourselves! Cid, you said you fought it before, right? What's the strategy?'
'Hit the bitch until it stops moving,' Cid grunts.
Cloud considers this. 'Yeah,' he agrees with a nod. 'Yeah, that's good enough for me. Get your equipment ready guys, we're going to be fighting as soon as we touch down!'