Author's Notes: I finished relistening to Dragonflight today, and when I was done, something moved in my mind. It shouted to me 'write story where Nida is a belly dancer,' sadly, I could think of no GOOD and PLOTFUL way to get Nida into the gauzy pants, coin laden shawl, and mid-drift revealing tops, complete with noisy bracelets on wrists and ankles, and a nice veil for his face. So, to indulge in the creative muse, I leapt upon the fact that there are, at best guess, three, maybe four (depending on how these guys behave, and if they get horribly sidetracked or not), chapters left to Pilot Wings, and what would it hurt if I wrote one today?

If anyone cares to remember/reread the prologue, you might recognize one of the scenes in this chapter. I hope you enjoy its recurrence, or actual happening. Whatever. Also, do you KNOW how hard it is to write in parts of Nida's past that need to be kept hush-hush for the sake of the story I want to write for my own pleasure? Damn, so much editting.

And if anyone can think of a good plotful way to get Nida into belly dancing, please either write it/draw it/share it. This must happen.

Pilot Wings: Chapter 11

Pinned as he was under the bulk of Cid, Nida did not find himself comfortable enough to drop off into sleep, either mentally or physically. Here he was, after all, his chest slightly crushed by the older man, making breathing a bit of a task to focus on, and this was merely hours after Cid had practically banished Nida, not only from this bed, this house, but from Cid himself. How was Nida supposed to take this sudden reversal from a drunk Cid? Was he to assume that the man had really forgiven him, that the earlier actions had been rash on the part of the old blond? Or did Nida take this as a sign that Cid, mourning a loss they both had to suffer, had given into weakness because of alcohol?Or was this something else entirely? Nida could not be sure, especially since he had never faced a drunken Cid, not in the limited amount of time he had been a house guest of the strange man.

Ten minutes Nida must have laid there before he finally came up with a way to deal with the situation he had been put into. By this time Cid was out cold, not that Nida could be sure that he hadn't been when Cid had first chosen to use him as a pillow. Carefully, as not to awaken the man, Nida slowly began to shift Cid off of him, no easy task even for Nida. While the same height as Squall, who Nida was more than capable of lifting, the pilot was deceptively heavy, almost like dealing with the dead weight of a drunken Seifer, which Nida had encountered on more than one occasion. It took a few minutes, but Nida still managed to, in the end, move Cid's weight enough that Nida could slip from beneath him. With this done, he carefully tucked Cid in, pulling the blankets up around the man, and slipped out of Cid's bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Alone in the hall, the light sound of Cid's breathing barely audible through the door, Nida leaned against a wall, trying beyond all hope to figure out just what was going on. Of course he could come up with little, his mind already running in enough circles since the arrival of Cloud in the fields that afternoon. Afternoon? Had it really been that recently?

Yes, my dove, Siren mumbled, sleepily, in the depths of Nida's mind. It was truly only this morn that you were reunited with the people who promised to help you, who you foolishly fled.

Even tired you endlessly needle me, Siren. Can't you give me just a few minutes to think in peace?

The guardian didn't respond, though Nida wasn't sure whether he was happy or not with that, much the same way he felt for this turn of events. Still, the silence was almost enough to give him a chance to deal with this situation. All he would need now, from experience, was some task to keep his hands busy, rather than having them fret with frivolous things, like they were doing now with the hem of the shirt he was wearing. Once his hands were adequately distracted, and Siren quieted, Nida's mind would be free to try and decipher just what was going on, how he was going to deal with the several new turns of events.

Several tasks quickly fell before the frantic energy of Nida's hands: washing dishes; mending the damaged clothes he'd brought from Gongaga; preparing and drinking tea; washing the dishes from tea; and otherwise tidying up around Cid's house. The only thing that Nida managed to discover for himself in that time, though, was the small box in Cid's storage closet, not far from photo album and where the bladed staff had been kept. Within it had lain a set of golden wings, between which was not a bird, but an odd seal, a red enameled square with a white notch at the top, with odd characters that Nida could not read, but seemed a bit like the language he'd seen in some of the smaller city-states back home. These, Nida had known immediately, were Cid's pilot wings, or at least one pair. He'd seen men back home with multiple pairs, given by multiple organizations, nations, and even as awards. Hyne, beyond even the plain gold wings of Quetzalcoatl, Nida had at least three pairs of pilot wings, one of which he'd had custom made to amuse Siren, bearing her wings instead of the traditional ones of the thunderstorm mistress Guardian. Still, upon finding it, Nida had polished the wings, before restoring them to the place Cid had secreted them.

And through all of these tasks, Nida had been unable to well and truly think. By the time he had gotten to the dishes a second time he'd actually reached out tentatively for the comfort of his guardian, only to find her shying away from him, protesting that she was fatigued. When he'd questioned her on such an idea, curious as to whether Guardians were truly able to become fatigued, she'd evaded the question by simply ignoring him and refusing to speak to him. Eventually Nida had given in, no longer prodding at the, as he had recently learned, female that was more than happy to take revenge upon his tender flesh.

So here Nida was, back in the room he'd first awakened into here in Rocket Town, pondering the bed, and whether or not he'd even be able to find sleep with all the worries that wracked his mind. The cream colored walls were more of a depressing gray in the lack of light, making the comparison Nida had once made for the color to that of a hospital even more off putting. It wasn't the curtains that blocked the light from the room though, their flimsy frills probably incapable of blocking even the light of a firefly, but rather the dark clouds that had been gathering over the town hours ago when Nida had arrived in town with Vincent and Reeve, though he hadn't noticed the cloud cover then. He was sure now that there would soon be rain. Nida's inner pilot mentalities flinched at the idea, knowing the hazards of take off or landing in such weather, but his childhood memories were filled with happy days, playing in the rain.

With nothing else to do, no where else to go (imagine rushing out of the inn without taking note of what room he'd been in, or even securing a key from Reeve or Vincent), Nida sat himself on the edge of the bed. It was here he'd first laid eyes on Cid, first come to understand, really understand, that there was no chance that he was going to get home, even if he had refused to admit it. There was even a chance that, somewhere down the line, Nida would live out the rest of his life on this bed, or one like it somewhere else in this world, perpetually removed from everything he knew and desired.

"This isn't what I wanted," he protested to the darkness around himself.

There was no response.

"None of this is what I wanted," he continued, looking down at the hands folded in his lap. "Just wanted to finish that damn mission and go home. Just wanted to wake up in bed beside Kiros, that was easier to explain away. Just wanted the worst problem I had to deal with be trying to explain to Squall about what he'd seen, even though it wasn't needed. That is all. Nothing else."

Still no response.

Nida sighed and let himself fall back onto the bed, arms spread to take up as much of the bed as he could manage. After a moment he realized he could easily fall asleep like this, and knowing how uncomfortable it would be, Nida began to strip. Cid wouldn't begrudge him a single night in the bed, or at least Nida hoped so.

"I, I don't know what I wanted."

"At last you tell the truth."

Instantly Nida was on his feet, the nearest thing at hand coming up as a weapon, instinct screaming to defend himself from the unexpected intruder. Somehow, though, Nida was sure that his sock was not going to scare off any intruders. While it wasn't menacing, Nida was still sure that he could do something with it to defend himself if it came to that. Which, from the look of the person before him, didn't seem unlikely.

"You," he hissed, sock held limply in his hand as Nida contemplated how to kill a person with just a single crew-cut sock.

"Indeed. And you as well. Though you looked better the last time I saw you."

"Last time I saw you, your axe had almost taken my hand off."

"I know, it was marvelous," the man chuckled.

He was an imposing figure, as menacing unarmed as Nida was hoping to achieve, and failing to, with the sock in hand. The man was almost six feet tall, and built as sturdily as Raijin had always been. Despite the scars on his forearms the old man, probably pushing sixty with his short cropped, white streaked, black hair, looked more fit now than the last time Nida had seen him, something he would not think of now, or ever again.

"Hyne take you, Boyce."

"He already had, Nomura, to this wonderful world. The magic of Hyne is here, it flows up from the very ground, is in stones and beasts as much as the people. This is the glory we sought, Nomura. Join me, you have this last chance. None here will be able to stand against us."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times..."

"Thirty-seven and a half," the old man corrected.

"...I will never work with you, Boyce Megill. But I will gladly give you death."

The Trabian weapons master laughed, that sick laugh that haunted the worst of Nida's dreams, and for the first time Nida noticed the great axe in the man's hands, the same as almost took Nida's hand and life, in the end of it all.

"I was sadly certain you'd say this, blood of my blood."

"I am not your kin!" Nida shouted, flinging himself at Boyce, prepared to kill him, or die trying. Nida was sure, almost sure, determined at the very least, to do the man in for once and for all. No longer would the man torment him, the Gardens, or any worlds in his insane quest. No longer would Nida be unsure as to if things were done, there would be closure, even as he wrung it from the old man, sock wrapped tightly around the thick neck, stretching the fabric to its limits.

The body began to go limp, the axe falling from Boyce's hands, the sharp blade lodging in the wood of the floor. Nida would apologize to Cid for that, and the body, in the morning, after he had his first night of real sleep, free of fear of this man, since the end of the war. Finally, Boyce Megill would be dead.

Except he wouldn't. The one choking wasn't Boyce, it was Nida, with the large man's arm wrapped around Nida's throat, pulling him slowly backwards to remove him from his balance. It wasn't the axe that had struck the floor, but one of Nida's arms, cut off as he had scrabbled against the constricting arm. He'd forgotten how easily the man had handled the monstrous weapon with but a single hand, and he quickly forgot again in his panic and in the sheer pain from the loss of his arm.

Still Boyce was pulling him back, stealing what little balance and potential leverage Nida could achieve, which was never for long, with his bare feet slipping too often in his own blood. Soon Nida was no longer struggling, and he couldn't help but wonder, in an oddly peaceful way, which would kill him: Boyce's strangulation, or the blood-loss from his arm.

"Nida!" a voice shouted, and just before he blacked out, Nida glance over, what little strength he had failing as he saw Cid there, awake and in his doorway. Boyce had pulled Nida out of the guest room and into the hall, where Cid had easily found them from the noise, despite his alcohol induced sleep.

'Run,' Nida tried to mouth to Cid, but his lips wouldn't obey him, and already his eyes were closing, closing. Closed.

Open. Open and searching the dark for Boyce as Nida's lips clamped down tight to hold back the scream he longed to release. No Boyce. Left hand flew to right, making sure before eyes could discern that there was no damage. Arm intact, breathing normal except for the panting from the terror that had consumed him but seconds ago. Nida sat up and began to rub his eyes, to be sure that there really was nothing here to disturb him, that there was no sign of Boyce.

The room was empty except for Nida, untouched except for shoes and socks on the floor, stripped off before Nida had fallen into troubled sleep, not even properly stretched out on the bed. Still, he rose and began to search the house, looking everywhere in Cid's small home, a spear from the hall in hand for protection. No sign of hide nor hair of Boyce. Finally Nida returned to the bed, set the spear close at hand, and assured himself it was all a dream. Boyce was dead, he had to be, and there was no way he could be here, in Cid's world. No way at all. He was safe.

Still, Nida had to keep repeating this, over and over and over, as he finished stripping down to go to bed, spear never more than a foot away from his hand. Boyce was dead, gone, never to be seen again. At last he stretched out on the bed, assuring himself that sleep would be far easier to achieve this time, though he longed for the dreamless abyss of sleep magic cast upon himself.

He awoke in the middle of the first floor lobby of Balamb Garden. All around him there were signs of neglect, like the last time he had seen this place. The waters were stagnant, plants withered and dead, even the stones of the path cracked in places where it still stood on the concrete at all. This, Nida knew, was a dream, but that didn't make it any easier to escape. This was a dream he'd had an untold number of times, during both wars, and after. Never had it come to pass, but still he dreamt of it, of standing here, walking the paths of Garden to see only ruin.

There was no point of him wandering now, to see the way beds were broken in student rooms, broken glass in the infirmary, the charred remains of the library. All of it had been imprinted into his mind multiple times, and nothing compelled Nida to seek them out again. That almost worried him more than the dream itself. Sometimes he was aware in these dreams, but he was still compelled to some place, some sight, some horror or other. Other times he was unaware that he dreamt, and he made the tour of the whole of the damage, and woke weeping. The fact that he had no urge to go anywhere, see anything, made this dream far worse than the others, because all Nida could do was sit upon a cracked and crumbling bench, and mourn the place, the scenes, the losses that even now he no longer had to look upon to see.

"So this is where you are."

Nida quickly looked up, his eyes meeting the knowing brown of Ellone's. Instantly he was on his feet, hugging the petite woman. This was one thing he'd never seen in his dreams, a person that looked upon him with kindness, who treated him kindly, even if only with a few words.

"Ellone, Hyne am I glad to see you."

"And I you, Nomura," she said, though her voice had taken a serious note. "And I you. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to achieve this, but..."

Nida nodded in understanding. There had been more than one set of experiments since the end of the Sorceress War. Ellone had set out to determine the true extent of her power after the war, when she had deemed them 'fully matured.' One of the things she had discovered was the ability to walk into the dreams of others, though it always proved a bit of a strain upon her powers. No one asked her to do this unless things were dire. Either this was part of Nida's natural dream, he decided, or they had finally noticed he was missing long enough to plead with Ellone.

"I didn't know if you'd be able to reach me, if you'd even try."

"I do not understand why you say that, but it was, is, more draining this time than any time in the past. And this is not the sort of dream I enjoy being received within."

Nida looked at their surroundings and sighed. It was understandable that Ellone did not like the image presented here, but Nida could do nothing to change it.

"It is a nightmare you've wandered into, Ellone. One that plagues me constantly."

Ellone nodded in acknowledgment, though he had probably already known this fact. It wasn't hard to draw the idea that this was a bad dream from someone who loved Garden so much.

"Listen, Nida, I've come to ask where you are."

"I..." Nida looked to his feet, and Ellone moved to join him on the bench. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he once more looked at her. "I can't even begin to explain it, Ellone. Something went horribly wrong. Odine's machine..."

"Squall is contemplating using it again and sending in a tracking device, or something like that, better to pinpoint you. He wants me to apologize for what happened to you, though he doesn't say so. But just wait, we'll find you, okay? Just tell us about where you are."

"That is the problem, Ellone. It is no where you can get to. Not without becoming as lost as I have been these last several months."

"Months?" Ellone asked, her head tilting to the side has Nida knew it did when she was truly puzzled. "The accident only happened yesterday."

"No," Nida hissed. "No, it's been months. Months. I know it, I've been here for months, at the very least. Came in spring, and it's fall now. It's been months, Ellone. Months!"

"Nida, Nida calm down. If you keep up like this..."

"Months Ellone, months! Don't you get it? No, how can you. You're just another nightmare, sent to plague me, taunt me about how I can never go home. Well I reject it, reject you and this wild dream. Do you hear me? I...

"REJECT IT!" Nida shouted, now panting as he sat up in the bed. Before he realized it, he was in tears, and there was a hand at his shoulder.

"Nida," Cid said, his voice barely a whisper, though there was a grimace on his face, presumably from the fact that Nida had just shout into it, and Cid probably had a killer headache already. "Nida, calm down, it was just a dream."

"I know," he said after a minute. "That is the problem. It was only a dream."

Then he was pulled into Cid's arms, held tightly to the man, who said nothing at all, merely allowed Nida the time he needed. Nida's arms came to wrap tightly around Cid as well, thankful for the minor peace there was to be in the arms of the man he still didn't understand the motivations of. When he finally calmed down, Cid had left the room to make tea, which was brought back along with a chair, and Cid sat as he watched Nida drinking.

"Talk?"

Nida shook his head. "I don't even want to think about it, to be honest."

There was a lot today that he really didn't want to think about. Part of him thought about the battered leather journal, diary, notebook, whatever, that Cid had given him earlier, but Nida shook the idea off and had some of the tea. In silence the two had their tea, Cid gathering the cups up when they were done and whisking them off to the kitchen. By the time the man had returned, Nida had fully dressed, and was frowning thoughtfully at the bed.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going?" Cid demanded.

"Back to the inn. I was only going to take a nap here and slip out in the morning anyway."

"No fucking chance you're going there. What the hell do you think I brought you back for? To watch you run off in the middle of the Goddamn night?"

"You were drunk, Cid."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean I'm fucking stupid. Now get your ass back in bed, and I'll cast sleep on you, so you can get some damn sleep."

"Cid..."

"And don't you question me! I know what I said today. It was stupid, fucking stupid. Changed my mind. I'm allowed to do that, right? So get the fuck over that. Nothing good comes from fucking lingering, trust me on that!"

When Nida didn't say anything, even dared to look away, Cid grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and shook him. Instinct, the same thing that had made Nida run in the first place, made Nida's body move for him, grabbing Cid's right wrist and, after ducking and twisting out of the shake, pulled Cid's arm up behind his back, close to enough to break it, or at least seriously hurt. Quickly nida let go, stepping back in shock. He hadn't meant to do that.

"Cid, I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

"I know. Same as the running. Couldn't help it, right? I told you, they all do that. We all do that. To protect ourselves. Like what I did today. I did that to Shera once, for years. She stuck around though, I didn't deserve that. And I don't deserve your understanding, but dammit..."

Nida looked away from Cid, understanding to some degree.

"You didn't know if you would come back," Cid said at length, and Nida suddenly knew it had been this recent admission on his own part that had caused Cid to treat him the way he had.

"I'm sorry."

"I know. But you're back. So get to fucking sleep, okay?"

-------

By the time late October had rolled around, Nida had settled into an easy lifestyle in Rocket Town. Days were filled with helping Cid on his ladies, especially the Tiny Bronco, nights were filled with time talking about everything and anything but a few things Nida put off limits. There were also, of course, things that were done to assist the WRO, Reeve's organization determined to help the world in whatever means possible, as well as the people of the world who would call on their old heroes of AVALANCHE. One trip had taken Nida to an area called the Northern Crater to deal with the yearly culling of populations of dark dragons and king behemoths, which were a menace to a city called Icicle Village.

It had only taken two weeks after Nida's return to Rocket Town for things to settle down between him and Cid again, and for the old blond to coax Nida back into Cid's bedroom. Life was an easier thing now, and Nida really was coming to enjoy the time here, even though he grew more and more sure every day that he would be soon forced to give up any hopes he had for returning home.

Every night, though, there were nightmares. Dreams of Boyce and his own death, dreams of danger to Cid, dreams of being lost in Garden, and Ellone reaching out on rare occasions, as false as any other dream he had. And sometimes Nida dreamt of a young woman with brown hair, her eyes green and gentle as a spring morning. She would smile, hold his hand, and assure him that everything would be okay. When he awoke, there was always the after-image in a mint green dress.

But all of that was inconsequential right now, Nida thought, as he sat out under an oak tree near a house across the path from Cid's. In his lap laid the black leather diary Cid had given him more than a month ago, when Cid had proclaimed that Nida needed to write his thoughts down to deal with them. At long last Nida was taking the man's advice to heart, but he couldn't figure out what he was going to write. Should he mention about the time here in Rocket Town, and Cid's world? Should he write all the questions running through his mind? Should he keep a daily diary?

Just write what comes to mind, my hawk, Siren suggested. Easier said than done.

I've been avoiding this because nothing ever really comes to mind when I'm supposed to write things, except writing them in a mission report format. And I don't think that will help me. It didn't after the war.

Oh, just suck it up and write, the woman said, and then her presence was gone. Her patience was testy at best these days, and Nida assumed it might be because she was so far removed from her natural element. She had often asked Nida in these past weeks to take her into the Nibel Mountains, to the mako pool where she said she felt home. Afraid that letting her spend to much time there might result in his losing of the only thing he still had of home, beyond his uniform, Nida had been resisting the wishes of the Guardian, but he didn't think he'd be able to hold out against her for much longer.

"Okay then," Nida said out loud, "I'll start."

Nothing came to him.

Things continued like this, Nida deciding he knew what he would write, and then not finding a way to do so, until long after the only light in the area came from nearby windows, and the particularly strong light of November's hunter's moon. It was under that light that Nida finally began to write, the pen scribbling quickly across the pages.

Home, they say, is where the heart is... Nida began, and soon all of his attention was on the movement of the pen, and the words suddenly flowing out of him. So focused was he that he didn't hear it at first when Cid started shouting for him. It wasn't until the man was no more than three feet away that Nida finally caught the sound of Cid's bellowing for him.

"Where the GODDAMN hell have you gotten to, you fuckin' flyboy?!"

Nida shivered when he heard this, and he looked up at the old man, his pen coming to a halt. He couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Cid standing there, obvious despite the fact that he was almost framed in the light of his house, the tell-tale sign being the red light of his lit cigarette.

"I'm over here."

Cid turned to look at Nida, a frown forming around his cigarette, the red light barely making Cid's other features visible to Nida, despite the fact that he was otherwise a silhouette. Yet, despite the frown, Nida could see the bright twinkle of happiness, and maybe a bit of relief, in those blue eyes. Even now Cid seemed to perk up when he saw Nida, as if he was constantly worried that the young man would flee again. Nothing that the younger man did would ever free him from that minor shadow of doubt of Cid's, but Nida was willing to accept it.

"Hurry your lazy ass up, or I'll tell Shera to give your food to the dog."

Nida nodded, and rolled his eyes once Cid turned to return to the house. 'Dog' was the way that Cid was referring to Yuffie, his house guest for the week, at the moment. Honestly, Nida didn't blame him, not with how the girl hounded him about the relationship between the two pilots. With a smile Nida jotted down a few more lines in his notebook before leaving it, and the pen, outside. There wasn't going to be any rain today, and Cid really would give food the bottomless pit that was the Princess of Wutai.

You know what, Siren? Nida said, reaching out to his guardian.

What, my dear sparrow?

I think, right now, I might not miss home that much if I never went back. Life here with Cid and them... It feels right.

Siren didn't respond. Both knew she didn't have to, and her opinion of the whole thing. She had insisted, ever since Nida's dreams had grown more and more troubling, more and more horrible to the point where he slept now under the effects of spells rather than naturally, that remaining in this place was something they were not meant to do. 'Terrible things will come,' she had warned Nida. Many times he had told her that she worried to much, that there was no harm that could come from remaining here, that he could finally have the kind of peace that was never possible back in the life of a Rank A SeeD, in the roles he had to play back home. No one to mention the Zebalga, or Vascaroon, or anything else. The only pressures here was to take care of himself, and be happy.

Was there really something wrong to wanting to live like that?

Yes.

Nida ignored Siren and went to join Cid for dinner.

-------

You see how I try to warn him.

I see, and I understand his reservation, even if you do not.

Do not suggest that I do not understand it. I was at his side during the worst of it, I also lived the horrible memories that plagued him.

You understand some, but only as much as he truly understands himself. There are parts of him that do not know, do not even begin to understand, sweet daughter of the transient world. Those parts you cannot touch, nor can the one I send to comfort him, to pull him from the horrors his mind subjects him to. She tries, and she worries, but she cannot warn him. He no longer believes in his dreams. He believes in himself, and in you.

And I try. But there is little I can do if no one here can find a way to take us back. Warnings can only do so much if there is no way in which my sparrow can act.

There will be a way. I will make sure of it. When the time comes, help him to make the right choice. He will need your strength to face what must be faced in these upcoming days. I cannot, I fear, make things any easier for him. He is not of my kind, I have little power over him.

Not that I have much more over him.

This is true, but there is much that rides upon him doing what he must do, for me and for the one he is of. Now, go and rest, transient one. I shall speak with him soon, in my own way. But you must be ready to help him when the time comes.

When will the time come? And I ask that you do not give me one of those 'you will know it when it arrives' things either. Diablos does that, and I hate it...

There was no answer, and somehow that worried Siren more than she was sure any answer could have.