Chapter 2: What Else Would I Be Drinking?
Cid took the long way to the Third District. Leon had sent one of
the Moogles with a message for him. Which one of the Moogles, Cid
couldn't say. Moogle names all sounded the same to him, just like
all Moogles looked the same. To him, they were all Mug--the little
guy who helped out at the shop sometimes and loved to gossip about
the latest tournament. Cid liked Mug; his name made him nostalgic
for beer.
Leon's note urged him to come to their headquarters as soon as
possible, but Cid didn't see the need to hurry. He knew what they
wanted. Ever since they'd discovered Hollow Bastion, they'd been
after him to ferry them back and forth.
It was his fault. He didn't mind lending them the Highwind for a
quick hop over to the Coliseum, but he didn't trust them with his
baby on such a long trip--warp drive or no warp drive. He took the
necessary navigation gummi out of his ship before he let them have
it.
He could have made it easy on himself by staying at Hollow Bastion
like Aerith did. Maybe then, Leon and Yuffie would stay put, too.
But he didn't want to.
He didn't care what they said. Maybe that castle was the very last
remnant of their world, but it wasn't his home. It never would be.
There was something wrong with the place--just like there was
something wrong with Yuffie and Aerith...
Cid turned the corner, and three Wyverns swooped down on him. He
altered his grip on his spear and leapt at the nearest one. Man, he
loved fighting these high-flying ones. He may be old, but he was
fit, and there was nothing like jumping high into the air to battle
both gravity and one's enemies. The feeling was a song in his
veins, proof that the blood of famous dragoons still flowed through
the Highwind clan--even if he was the last of them.
It was a dance. Venus Gospel twisted and whirled through the air,
an extension of himself. She was the perfect dancing partner,
beautiful and deadly.
In a few minutes, it was over. He was glad he'd switched to using
Venus when the Heartless had grown stronger. She was his best
weapon--and the only pole arm he dared to call a she.
Cid grinned and rubbed a hand through his hair, reaching out of
habit for the pack of cigarettes he kept tucked in the band of his
goggles. Only the cigarettes weren't there, of course.
He cursed under his breath and entered the Third District. At the
small house that served as their headquarters, he rapped on the door
and pushed it open without waiting.
"Hey, old man."
Leon greeted him, but Cid wasn't listening. Before the door was
fully open, something leapt in his chest at the sight of a crimson
cape and the glint of a golden gauntlet--and then fell like lead in
his gut when he saw spiky blonde hair instead of the anticipated
black.
The door hit him as it swung back on its hinges and knocked him out
of his shocked stillness. "What the fuck?" he growled. "What is
this?"
Kairi stared at him like a startled fawn, and Yuffie stepped quickly
around their guest. "Cid," she began, her voice chiding.
Cid spat and spun on his heel. "I'm out of--" The door slammed
behind him. "--here."
"Wow!" Yuffie said, bounding over to the door. "I didn't know it
could slam so hard. Did you?"
The house's other three occupants ignored her.
"You didn't tell me he was here," Cloud said.
Leon's slouch against the wall shifted minutely. Cloud supposed it
was the man's version of a shrug. Cloud wasn't particularly
communicative himself, but Leon's reticence bugged him--even though
he was grateful that his search for Aerith was nearly over.
"You should have said something."
"I thought you knew him," Leon said.
"Didn't you recognize his ship?" Yuffie asked. "Everyone around
here knows the Highwind."
"When I knew him," Cloud said, "the Highwind wasn't a gummi ship.
It was a real ship--of real metal--with Lady Luck painted on its
side."
"So we made a mistake. Big deal," Yuffie said.
Cloud began unbuckling his gauntlet. "If he's your friend," he told
Leon, "you should have given us both some warning."
"Why's that?" Leon asked.
Cloud glanced at Yuffie. She should know why--only she was too
young and didn't know anything she should have. "Does the name
Sephiroth mean anything to you?"
Both of them shook their heads. No.
"Well... suffice it to say that the man I got this from--" He held
up the gauntlet. "--was a very close friend of Cid's."
"Named Sephiroth?" Leon said.
"No. That was someone else." Cloud took off his cloak and wrapped
it around the gauntlet. "Where does Cid live?"
"First District." Leon straightened out of his slouch. "I can take
you there."
"I can handle it," Cloud said.
After searching for Aerith across countless worlds, finding Cid in
one little town would be a piece of cake.
Cid was sitting at an outside table in a nearly-deserted cafe. Cloud checked its sign. Cafe & Bar.
The citizens of Traverse Town seemed an unimaginative lot. Everything had a label instead of a name. The only shop he'd seen that he hadn't instantly known what it sold was a little place called Gepetto. It had flowers painted on its door frame, though, so maybe it was a florist's.
It was a wonder he hadn't found Cid sitting under a sign reading Cid's Chair. Cloud plunked the bundled cloak down in front of him. Cid didn't react.
Cloud snagged a chair from the next table and sat down.
"Is he dead, then?" Cid asked without looking Cloud's way.
"I don't know."
Cid twirled his glass slowly in his hands. Cloud watched the puddle of condensation under it spread. It reached the edge of the red cloak and turned the cloth as dark as clotted blood. He looked away then, and studied the changes in his friend.
His first impression wasn't a mistake. Cid seemed about as old as he should be. He was broader than Cloud remembered. Some of that was muscle--Cid's biceps were huge. But most of it was that bulk that men attain sometime in their thirties when they've put their youth behind them once and for all.
"How old are you now?"
Cid laughed. "So you noticed that, eh? Not everyone does." He met Cloud's eyes with an approving look. "Want something to drink?"
"Thanks." Cloud nodded.
"Hey, Bridget!" Cid called to a woman in a green skirt and a low-cut blouse. "Get a drink for my friend here."
The woman crossed her arms under her breasts. "It's Blythe," she said.
"What?"
"My name," she said through clenched teeth. "It's Blythe."
Cid blinked. "What? Isn't it Brenda?"
"No, it isn't!" She turned to Cloud. "What do you want?"
"Whatever he's having."
"Hmph!" She swept away.
"Bring another for me, Darling!" Cid called after her. He locked his hands behind his neck and rocked his chair back on two legs.
"You're still not very good with women, are you?" Cloud asked.
"Oh, her? I know what her name is. She's just such a snippy bitch, I like to rile her up."
Cloud shook his head. "You're playing with fire."
"An old man's got to do something for excitement."
Cloud leaned forward. "And just how old are you?"
It wasn't Cid's favorite topic these days, but it beat the hell out of discussing just what Cloud Strife was doing with Vincent Valentine's possessions.
Before he could answer, Blythe returned with their drinks. She gave Cloud his, then set Cid's down so hard it sloshed over the side.
"That's two fifty," she said.
"When did they raise the price?"
"It's a compulsory tip. Just for you." She held her hand out.
"Well, Beatrice darling, it's a good thing I'm a wealthy man." He gave her three hundred and winked at Cloud when she stormed off.
Cloud shook his head again, then picked up his glass. Cid waited--and he didn't have long to wait. Cloud sipped his drink, then held it out and squinted at it.
"This is apple juice!"
It sure was. Traverse Town was dry, and apple juice was the hardest drink a man could get.
Cid raised his eyebrows at Cloud. "What else would I drink at a juice bar?"
"No wonder you're bored." Cloud frowned at his glass.
"Just be glad I wasn't drinking prune juice, kid."
Cloud's frown deepened, but he took another sip.
"Now, to answer your question... the best I can figure, I'm forty two--give or take a year." Cid paused for a reaction, but didn't get one. "And how I remember it--but maybe that's not saying much--you were a lot older the last time I saw you."
"Was I?"
The kid looked curious, but not disbelieving. Cid nodded and decided to continue.
"For that matter, I was older, too, the last time I saw you... Now it's possible that the Moogles are drugging me and what I'm remembering was one far out trip--"
"Wait. The Moogles are what?"
"Drugging me." Cid rolled up his sleeve and tapped his arm just below a bright pink patch with a smiling Chocobo face on it. "The Moogles synthesized me these nicotine patch things." Traverse Town was dry and smoke-free. "And I'm no scientist, so who knows what all they put in here. Right? I could be completely off my rocker."
"You can't be serious." Cloud stared at the patch.
"I'm not, kid. But Little Miss Ninja sure was."
"Yuffie."
"Who else?" Cid downed the last of his first glass of juice. "That was her theory when I took her aside one day to ask if something seemed... off to her. If maybe she thought that perhaps--"
"Aerith should be dead." The words were quiet, but spoken with conviction.
Cid met Cloud's gaze and felt something shift in his chest--like maybe the Heartless had stolen a tiny piece of his heart and left a rock-like chunk of doubt in its place, a chunk that Cloud had just dislodged.
"Exactly," Cid said.
"And Yuffie should be older, shouldn't she?"
Cid nodded.
"And when you last saw me, when was that?"
Cid picked up his second glass and examined it for a moment. "Twelve years after we defeated Sephiroth."
"Was I--" Cloud stopped and glanced around like he was about to say something embarrassing. "Was I happy?"
"Look, kid--"
Cloud held up his hand. "I know. I know it's not a life that I'm ever going to live now. Fate led me down a different path--and I followed her willingly enough. But--"
"Yeah," Cid answered. "I'd say you were more happy than not."
"Thank you."
They sat and drank quietly for a while. If Cid sat long enough, he could sometimes make himself almost believe he was nursing a beer at his favorite place in Rocket Town. Yeah. Right now he was drinking beer and smoking a cigarette, and his long-time partner, Vincent, was busy across the table from him, brooding up a storm.
Cid fingered the ragged cape in front of him. Actually, after twelve years, even a master like Vincent couldn't brood up much more than a brief summer shower on most days. And if he remembered correctly, they'd thrown out this cape years ago.
Nothing stays the same, old man. Nothing.
"So," Cid said. "Aerith, huh? They sure don't make death like they used to."
Cloud choked on his drink. Cid pounded on his back until he could speak.
"Cid," he gasped. "You have no idea."