Epilogue Three
Cid
In the mountains of Nibelheim, overlooking Rocket Town, they gathered. They were an odd group, mismatched, with checkered histories, and uncommon backgrounds. But together, they formed a group, a group that had pulled through against the greatest of adversities, and saved the Planet not once, but twice. They were friends all, and now stood together to remember the passing of one of their own.
A Soldier wash-out who had claimed to the title. A bartender. A rebel against a corporate Empire. A guardian-turned-lab-speciman. A flower girl. A thieving ninja. A former Turk.
They were joined by others, people who deserved to be there. Rude, a former Turk like Vincent, Marlene, the adopted daughter of Barret, and Shera, the woman who had so faithfully followed Cid.
They gathered, knowing that their group was incomplete, and remembered the three that should have been with them.
A stuffed toy who was now a slave to an Empire. Cait Sith had been the group's friend. He had betrayed them, and spied on them, and made himself a pest, but in the end, he had fought for what was right, what he believed in. He had not been born into wealth, unlike so many of his kind, and made his way into the corporate ladder, fighting his way up until President Shinra had given him a chance. He had continued to work for Shinra despite the attrocities it committed, because he had figured that the only way to fight the system would be from inside.
They remembered Sephiroth, a warrior driven mad by a malevolent force. A man whose skill at combat would never be matched, not even by Cloud. A man who could have been a force for good, but instead had been completely corrupted. A man who, in the end, managed to defy his tormenter, and slay her once and for all.
And they remembered Cid.
Cid, a man who had given his life to kill the threat known as Shin Bahamut, a summoned creature that would have destroyed Obsidian Weapon, the synthesis of Aeris, Sephiroth, and the Lifestream. Cid, a hero. Together they told each other stories of times spent with the man, of his surly attitude, of his bad habits, and his surprising passion for tea. And they spoke of his love of the sky, and most importantly, his desire to see the stars. They spoke of a pilot who had lived to fly, and had rightly died in the seat of his own ship, refusing to abandon it at all costs.
And so Vincent handed over the urn made from pieces of the Highwind to Shera. She lifted it high in the air, then removed the lid.
Hesitantly at first, then strongly as the breeze came, the ashes from the urn lifted up, blowing into the air. They flew about, scattering across the Nibel Mountains, the plains of Rocket Town, the Canyons of Cosmo, the valley of Corel, the desert of Gold Saucer, and the sea. It was later mused by a drunk Barret, after the victory party, which he had to buy the drinks for, that those ashes probably made it all the way to Wutai in the west, to Midgar in the east, to Knights of the Round Island in the north, and to the Isle of the Cactaur in the south. That Cid's wandering spirit touched everyone on the Planet.
Everyone at the party concluded that such musings were ridiculous. Cid's ashes would not travel across the Planet.
They would touch the stars.