Author's Notes: Ouch, almost a year. I'm such a bad writer, neglecting things for so long. There is good news though: this is a new chapter, and I have outlined the rest of the major events of the story. So things should go better from here on out. When I get days off of work, I will try to include new chapters, or at least work on them. Plus, my new martial arts experience (whoot yellow belt) might help make my fight scenes even better. Who knows. But for now, I dedicate this chapter to everyone who has reviewed me so far and supported me. You're all the best.
P.S. - Sorry for how short it is.
Pilot Wings: Chapter 10
Ever since he laid eyes upon the Ragnarok, Nida had known that she was the most marvelous ship in existence. Were time compression to bring all ships from all times together, past, present, and future, it would create the Rag, her hull still the same, down to the specific crimson of her hull. The ship had all the knowledge of the world available from its computers, an observation deck, and even a hanger for smaller fliers and assault vehicles. Her claws were as much weapons as the cannon of her mouth, and the seats were so perfectly comfortable. There was nothing the Ragnarok lacked.
Well, he'd always thought that, but right now the running hot water in the shower of the Sierra was by far superior to anything the Ragnarok had in store. The sheer pleasure of water, slamming against his already reddened body with the force of small pebbles thrown at him, was enough to make Nida sing the glories of the Sierra, almost making him think it was better his Ragnarok. Almost. Still, thirty minutes and skin pink enough to match Quistus's trademark outfit was probably a clear indication that the shower should be drawing to a conclusion.
A few deft motions found the water shut off and a large, fluffy blue towel wrapped around Nida's waist. After a moment of thought Nida grabbed another towel to dry his hair and left the shower room, padding down the hall towards his room. The halls were, expectantly, empty, and for good reason. The ship was in full flight, with crew everywhere but in their rooms or at the showers, something Nida had been told was reserved for when the ship was on the ground at night, or hovering on autopilot. The emptiness was more than welcome for Nida; he had come over the years to hate allowing people to see his body, covered with scars from the war against the vicious Zebalga tribe. People asked questions, and when they didn't they looked on in curiosity. The only exception was among those who had fought in the war, winning their own scars in the process.
The moment Nida returned to his room, a small thing Cloud had shown him to when they had reached the Sierra an hour ago (after an equally long walk from Gongaga), he flopped down on the small bed. The thing was even less comfortable than what was given Garden cadets, but Nida didn't mind too much. All he had to do was reach out and press his fingers against the metal of the wall and he could feel the reassuring hum of an airship in flight. Most people never noticed it, but Nida was well attuned to the feel of an airship, and the heightened sense of hearing from Siren had always provided an undertone of the faint hum of a ship. Nida had gotten good at telling what was wrong with his Ragnarok, or any of the small fliers he taught his students about, by sound and touch alone. So now he retreated into the comforting feelings and sounds, something not too far removed from his own Rag.
You have a guest, sparrow, Siren whispered in his head, pulling Nida's attention from the latent hum and forcing it towards the minor change in vibration by the door.
The warning came just as the knock sounded in the room. Part of Nida wanted to reprimand his Guardian for failing to notice sooner, but another knew she was not to blame. The constant hum in the background could easily cloud the sounds Siren was normally attentive for.
"Nida."
The SeeD sat up abruptly, glaring at Reeve, whose head was now peeking through the door without permission. The insult only seemed to pile up more as Reeve entered the room, but it was quickly forgiven when Nida saw the man holding a tray of food, soup from the smell of it.
"We figured you might be hungry, after the hike from Gongaga, and the work Cloud said you were doing when he got there."
"Didn't get a chance to eat since breakfast this morning," Nida admitted, watching the tray as Reeve closed the door behind him and made his way to the bed. "What kind of soup?"
"Beef barley, favored among the crew. It's left over from their lunch, rewarmed, but I suspect it is perfectly edible. Tifa cooked it, so it should be delicious."
Nida took the offered tray, scooting down the bed to give Reeve room to sit. It was obvious from the way that the man was shuffling around that he wanted to talk, so Nida was just going to allow it. After all, one did not bite the hand that fed them, right? Well, unless you were Zell and that hand was holding a hot dog, but that had only happened once. Once the tray, and Reeve, were appropriately settled, Nida began to dig in, well, spoon in, to his food.
"Where did you get that scar on your arm?"
And just like that the pilot's appetite was gone. Nida calmly set the spoon down on the tray, placed the whole thing on top of the small dresser in the room, and grabbed the pair of pants Cloud had brought in just before Nida's shower. In silence the pilot began to dress.
"Bad memories?" Reeve asked, sounding very apologetic.
"That particular one almost killed me."
"And the one by your backbone?"
"Same thing, but that was a bad crash in a flier. Teaching a rookie who was as jumpy as a cactuar when the engine stops. Kid got out without a scratch, I was off my feet for two months."
By this point Nida was completely dressed, sans socks, in hopes of avoiding further questions he'd rather not answer. It was true that every scar came with its own story, but some were worse than others, like his arm. That one was a bright strip of white that stretched across most of the arm, right about shoulder level. He'd been lucky not to die in that battle, from blood loss, from the blades of his two enemies, from sitting on the ground afterwards, cradling the head of his best friend and lover in his lap. In that one scar was all of the things wrong with the war, all the death and blood shed, the repeated times he should have died, only to live because the Zebalgas thought he was something that he was not, a child of some great legendary wise man, the key to the ultimate power of Hyne.
Of any scar on his body, this was the one that hurt the most, even though he couldn't feel the damage anymore.
"May I ask you something, Nida?"
"So long as it isn't about the scars, then feel free. But only one question. I'm feeling tired."
Reeve was silent for a moment, probably because of Nida's allowance of only one question. He could understand how the man would want to ask him more. From what Nida understood, this man was scientist, engineer, and politician all at once, always wanting to know more, do more, help more people. Asking questions, answering questions, maybe even propagating questions, was how this man lived, and here Nida had cut him down to only one in a whole universe of possibilities. Nida was more than aware that he was a curiosity to these people offering him hospitality in their world, and that even with what he'd told them upon their meeting, there was still much they wished to know. A good soldier, though, never gave up everything he knew, even if he had to give up a few crumbs here and there.
"If, in the long run, we are unable to return you to where you come from, what will you do?"
A whole universe of possible questions, and Reeve asked the one that Nida had absolutely no clue about how to respond to. So he responds in the only way he can think of, he says nothing. He closes his eyes, gives into the power of Siren's senses, listening to the hum of the airship around him, feeling the trembling through his feet, feeling the air eddy around him from the ducts in the room.
You're running away, my sparrow. Is that really the best choice? Remember what it has gotten you recently?
Nida ignored the almost bitter note of her voice, and deigned not to answer her either. Still, she would press him, and her will often over matched his. Soon he would have to answer the question.
"Reeve, you're wanted up on deck."
The young SeeD could not help but jump before turning to face the door. Sure enough it was ajar, the dark man, Valentine, framed in the steel of the door frame. How the man had managed to make it down the hall and open the door without Reeve's notice was an easy thing to understand, but how he had escaped Siren's notice confused Nida to no end. Still, Reeve was not visibly shaken, and he merely stood and slipped past Vincent, thinking nothing more of the second intrusion into Nida's space, or seemingly into the appearance of this other man.
"How did you..."
"Third door on your right."
Vincent said nothing else before leaving, door still wide open.
For another minute Nida stood there, marveling at the door and the seemingly random words of Vincent. It wasn't until Siren prodded his mind that Nida made his way for the door.
What do you think he means by that?
He means to tell me where Cid is at the moment.
How can you tell, my sparrow?
Nida didn't need to respond, he could sense the realization in her as soon as she asked the question. Siren knew, as well as Nida did, that it was the same way that Seifer acted. He never flat out said 'go apologize to such-and-such,' or 'you forgot to do something.' The blond had always been kind enough to hint at it subtly, knowing that only the smallest prodding was all it took to get a man to do what you wanted him to, while allowing him to save face. Nida was sure that Cloud would have done the same thing, if he had been the one to show up at the door rather than Vincent. Cid, though, would have been in here cursing Nida into next Thursday, in no way concerned with belittling him along the way.
In this situation, though, it was going to be Cid cursing Nida into next Thursday for pulling such a stupid stunt like disappearing. Nida was sure of it, yet he still closed the door behind himself and shuffled down the hall, bare foot, to the door Vincent had hinted at. He was almost proud that his hesitation before knocking was only two breaths.
"Who the fuck is it?" Cid's voice demanded from behind the door.
"I'm sorry."
Nida would have been content to leave it at that, even began to turn and leave, only to find Cid must have been waiting at the door for how quickly the thing was thrown open. There stood Cid, looking none the worse for the way Nida had disappeared, and even stepping aside to let Nida past.
"Get the fuck in here, fly boy. You and me got some talkin' to do."
Somewhere in Cid's tone was the hint that disobedience might find Nida thrown off of the ship, but the idea of fleeing was still tempting to the young man. Finally he gave in, slipping meekly past Cid and into a room only half again the size of his own. Apparently Cid wasn't the kind of captain who would take things far better than his crew just because he could. The thought almost made Nida smile, but remembering what sort of tongue lashing he was in for, the smile was quickly quelled.
"Sit," Cid barked as he reentered the room, slamming the door behind him.
"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to..."
"Shut up! Sit your ass down in that chair and drink some goddamn tea, fly boy."
Nida actually jumped a bit at the way Cid shouted, but quickly seated himself in the chair Cid had pointed his lit cigarette at and poured a cup of tea from the pot on the table before him. Again, something told him that disobedience was a BAD idea. He cautiously sipped from his tea, too hesitant to ask for milk or sugar, and watched as Cid slammed the bolt on the door into place before coming over and flopping down into the other chair for his own cup of tea.
"Cid, listen..."
"No," the pilot said, sipping at his tea. "Finish your cup, then I'll talk, not you. Understand?"
Nida merely nodded, quickly downing his cup, despite the way it scalded his tongue.
The older man took note of this, nodded to himself, and set aside his own cup. After clearing his throat the old man began.
"You don't have to apologize to me, Nida."
"Yes, I really do, Cid. I...."
"Shut up! You don't get to talk until I'm done, understand? I don't care if you're a three-star fucking general, or a summon, or Minerva her fucking self. You're going to listen to me, like it or not. We got this clear?"
All Nida could do was nod.
"Good. And don't you zone out on me with your feathered stripper either. Got it?"
Feathered stripper? Siren shouted, utterly indignant. You tell that chain-smoking ant that I've squashed men better than him with a single feather! You tell him that, Nomura. You hear me?
"You're snickering. What the fuck about this is funny?"
Taking this as an indication that he could respond, Nida choked out his laughter, trying desperately not to laugh and incur the wrath of both the older pilot and his GF.
"Siren doesn't appreciate being called that."
"Well, if she stopped dressing like a stripper, then I wouldn't do it."
I'll have you know that I was clad like this long before your kind even knew how to create clothing! I am a timeless being of immeasurable power! You will not disrespect me!
"I'd suggest you move on Cid, before she tries to force me into a summoning, just so she can tell you off on her own."
The older man rolled his eyes and took a draw on his cigarette before nodding to himself. Nida, on the other hand, tried to quiet Siren as quickly as he could so Cid would have his full attention. Right now he didn't want to deal with a new scar source.
"So, this is how it's gonna work, okay? You don't get to apologize for what you did. I understand why you did it, did both of the things you did. You ain't the kinda person to hurt someone for fun, or even on accident. It was instinct, or training, right? I've seen Spike and Vinny get like that, hell, even Reeve does things he can't explain. Soon he's even gonna get me to demand forms be filled out in triplicate, not that I'd know what the hell to do with that much paper. But you, you're a mercenary, right? Said you got this training in lots of stuff, so the way I figure it, you was trained to deal with some things without even thinking, to make it easier. Got this new pilot on my Sierra, kid jumps to attention whenever I'm around. Former military I think, so he's always saluting me, even though I tell him not to. Take me years to break him of it. Sorta like what happened to you, right?"
Since Cid had trailed off, taking another drag of his cigarette, Nida assumed that this time he was meant to respond, and took the chance gladly.
"Something that night, my training, or my instinct, told me to run. I don't know what from, I don't know why, but something told me move, and I did, until I couldn't move anymore and the Fairs took me in."
"Would you have come back?"
Another one of those questions Nida didn't know how to answer.
"I thought so," Cid mumbled around his cigarette.
"Cid, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, I know."
With that Cid rose and opened a drawer in his dresser. He pulled from it a notebook and pen, which he proceeded to toss to Nida. Then he returned to the table and poured himself another cup of tea.
"What is this?"
"Shera told me, few years back, I could remember things better, explain them better, if I wrote them down first. Help me clear my mind, deal with stress and some shit like that. Didn't believe a fucking word of it, but I kept the damn shit she gave me. Take it. Work things out. Maybe she's right about it working."
"Maybe it will," Nida agreed, resolving to at least try it. Reports delivered after missions always made him feel like he understood what had happened better.
"Now get out of here."
That comment made Nida's head snap up from the notebook he'd been looking down at. Cid was focused on his tea pot, his face unreadable to the younger pilot.
"Cid, I don't understand."
"I said get out of here. We'll be landing in Rocket Town in a few hours. Someone will get you a place at the inn when we get there."
"Oh. Of course. Thank you for your time, Captain."
Nida held himself together as he made it through the door and closed it behind him. Always be all business until you're out of sight of those who gave orders, first rule of how to make it in Garden. It was only that rule that forced Nida to hold his composure until he had returned to his room. Inside he found Reeve sitting at the end of his bed and Vincent standing in a corner, leaning against the wall. Vincent beat the executive to Nida as SeeD fell forward to his knees, holding him up as Reeve moved to pull the door closed.
"It will be alright," Reeve reassured Nida as Vincent lead the young man to the bed. "Just give it time, and it will be alright. Cid's just a hard man, always has been. He'll forgive you soon enough, I'm sure of it."
Vincent said nothing, and Nida didn't question why neither of them seemed surprised by this situation, or why Reeve's implications seemed to be that he had knowledge of why Nida was so upset.
All he could question at this moment was how he was supposed to handle things now that the last bit of support he'd thought he had, somewhere, had finally given out.
------
The next few hours were a bit of a blur for Nida, mostly due to the shock of his conversation with Cid, but some of it from the rushing around that came with the Sierra landing near Rocket Town. For a time Reeve left Nida in Vincent's care, mumbling something or other about gathering up there things for the lift back to town, but Nida could not be quite sure. What he remembered next was Vincent, using silences almost like Squalls, helping him put back on a composed front as they left the Sierra, Cid not too far ahead of them, and the rest of the war heroes aboard, namely Cloud and Reeve, flowing close behind. Later Nida would be impressed with just how well he'd held up at that point, even though the other four men most likely knew that things were not alright with him, even if the crew of the Sierra didn't. He also remembered the beauty of the Sierra rising and flying off to wherever Cid had it stored when not in use, and mourning the fact that he couldn't use Siren to take comfort from the ship anymore.
After that Nida didn't remember anything, even getting into the bed that he woke up in. The walls were yellow, the bed lumpy, the blanket thrown over him scratchy and inefficient at keeping out what felt like a chilly autumn night. Something, maybe the noise downstairs, told Nida that this was a room at the inn Cid had mentioned. Part of him ached at the idea that he'd really ended up here, but it didn't have long to feel that way, because a quick glance at the rest of the room revealed Vincent, again leaning against a wall. Maintaining composure became the whole of Nida's focus, not that he thought losing it was going to change Vincent's opinion of him. Still, removing himself from the pain was probably the best idea, far better than wondering just why it hurt so much.
"Do you ever actually sit, or lie down?"
Vincent stared at him for a second, blood red eyes piercing easily through Nida's attempts to appear calm. Nida could feel the man looking at him, really looking at him, and something told him that it was what the man saw that caused him to respond.
"Yes, but Reeve asked me to watch over you in case you woke while he was gone."
"How long has he been gone?" A far better question than 'why should I need to you watch over me?'
"Not long. He's getting dinner for us all."
"It's really that late? Have I been sleeping that long?"
"Six hours," Vincent confirmed before heading for the door. Nida was actually disturbed that Vincent had acted before Siren had even warned him, and more so when Siren said nothing as Vincent opened the door for Reeve and the two trays he was carrying.
"Siren?" Nida demanded out loud, almost panicking from the silence in his mind, the emptiness that came with the lack of a junction.
"She manifested faintly about four hours ago," Reeve provided, gesturing with a laden hand towards the end table by Nida, where his mithril necklace rested. "She asked us to remove the necklace, that she would remove her own junction. Apparently she felt that you were drawing upon her, even in your sleep, and it was disturbing you."
Nida nodded silently before snatching up the necklace, putting it on, and calling the familiar presence back into his mind. He was sure he visibly relaxed when he felt her gentle touch in his mind.
Forgive me, my sweet hawk. In your sleep you were reaching out with me, straining towards him. It did you no good. I had to ask them.
I understand, he grudgingly admitted. Forgive me if I have done you wrong.
No, my dove, you have done me no wrong. Now eat, you are as weak of body after the searching as you are of heart at this time.
Nida did not need to be told twice. He gladly took the food Reeve offered him, soup again, this time with a buttered roll, and ate despite their lack of quality. These he washed down with the cold beer Reeve had kindly provided. Finally, when he finished, Nida set aside the tray Reeve had given him, and slid back on the bed, pressing his back firmly against the wall.
"Thank you very much for your help."
"Think nothing of it," Reeve said, only just starting in on his own food after serving Vincent and watching Nida intently for a few minutes. "You didn't have lunch, so you were bound to be starving by now."
"Not quite. Rule of threes. I still had more than two days before... Oh. I get it."
"Amusing. For someone with so much experience and training, you do miss the intention of the oddest comments."
Nida rolled his eyes at Reeve's comment. When you deal with people like Zell and Selphie, sometimes they began to rub off on you. Then again, he supposed they too had people like that to deal with, namely that excitable girl, Yuffie. Neither of them, though, seemed worse for the contact.
"The two of us," Reeve said around a mouthful of bun, "Will only be here through tomorrow, but the room is charged to my company. Stay as long as you need."
"You're leaving? Already?"
"We have to find you a way home," Vincent responded, though Nida couldn't be sure he was telling the truth or not. Maybe they just didn't want to be around someone like him in the state of mind he was in.
"If you need anything in town, we've told the innkeeper to help you, or at worst to send on to Yuffie or Shera. Yuffie is visiting with Shera, so I do warn you that anything that gets to one of them will get to both. So don't go asking them for any porn or something. Yuffie would more than happily oblige."
Nida pondered Reeve's words, utterly confused by what he meant with that last statement. Luckily Reeve seemed to get this right off the bat and he chuckled, putting his bun aside.
"Really, are you that naïve? The girl has been making eyes at you at least as long as we've been here. If you asked for porn, you might get it in the flesh, so to speak."
Even in the mood he was in, Nida couldn't help but smirk at the pun.
"I'd hate to disappoint her, but I'm not really looking for that sort of thing at the moment."
"Don't say that to her either," Reeve laughed, "She might hold out hope."
"So long as she holds out far away from me."
This comment caused the two of them to laugh, finally breaking the last of the tension lingering in the room, and almost banishing Cid from Nida's mind. In fact, it might have worked completely were it not for the fact that moments later, the door was open, and there was the Captain himself, cigarette free and smelling like a little too much whiskey.
"Cid, what are you doing here?" Reeve demanded at length. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking? Dammit man, have you no sense of at least basic courtesy."
"Stuff your fucking courtesy. I'm taking the fucking flyboy with me."
"And what in on Minerva's green planet makes you think you're going to do that?"
"You fuckin try to stop me, I'll take care of you myself."
Both Nida and Vincent were standing fully upright at this point, their watching of the verbal tennis ending with Cid's threat. Vincent reached Reeve's side, hand on his gun, at about the same time Nida reached Cid's, putting his hand on the older man's shoulder.
"Cid, calm down. Reeve, you too. Okay, everyone just calm down."
"Nida..."
The SeeD shook his head, pushing Cid towards the door. "Not right now. He's drunk. I'll get him home. You two just stay here. I'll be back soon."
Reeve nodded, though he didn't look happy with the idea. It was probably only Vincent's golden claw on his shoulder that kept the man from following Nida.
It took a bit of effort for Nida to navigate Cid down the stairs of the inn without falling, and by the time the pair made it outside, Nida was practically carrying the older man. At last, though, they made it to Cid's house and bedroom. Doors were cautiously shut behind the SeeD with his foot, and the older man navigated around despite his protests by Nida's hands. At long last Nida let go of Cid, letting the old man slump to his bed, grumbling the whole while about 'fucking executives' and 'fucking vampires,' but mostly about 'fucking stupidity.'
"Go to bed Cid. You're just embarrassing yourself like this."
When the man tried to stand again, Nida merely pushed him back down on the bed, and proceeded to undress him. He'd dealt with drunken students in Balamb enough, as well as putting them to bed and leaving behind reprimands, to be able to deal with this professionally. A few quick motions had socks off, and coat tugged away to follow. Pants were quick to follow, but Nida couldn't bring himself to do anything more, not even take away the man's flight goggles. Nida's hands were shaking, everything he'd been suppressing the last ten minutes rushing back in one instant that made his mind scream 'run.'
No, not yet. He came looking for you for a reason, Siren whispered, as if even her raised voice would rouse Cid's attention.
The old man had other things in mind though, for as Nida tried to leave, Cid's hand shot out and latched on to his wrist. Before Nida could pull himself free Cid pulled Nida towards the bed, his strength unsurprisingly intact, as it tended to be in the drunk. Nida fell to the bed, only to find himself pinned quickly by the older man, that as surprising as the display of strength had not been.
"Cid, let me go. I have to go back to the inn."
"No," the man slurred. "Stay."
"Cid, don't do this to me. Just let me go back to bed."
"Sleep here."
"Cid..."
"Forgive ya. And sorry," the man mumbled, seconds before falling asleep on top of Nida.