Author's Pre-Notes: Please see the end.

Pilot Wings: Epilogue

To be honest, I don't know why I'm doing this. I found an old leather diary in a drawer today, never used, and all of a sudden I had an urge to write. I think someone, once, told me it was a good idea, to get things out of your head. So I'm going to try it.

Life hasn't been easy these last few months. Not long after I had walked out on the meeting after my return to Garden, Squall, Seifer, and Irvine had followed me back to my room. Well, so had Selphie, and there was a momentary scamper outside of my door to keep her out, but the trio of men showed up, and Irvine sat with me until I had calmed enough to face Squall and Seifer. Again they asked questions, trying to focus in on my memories, especially my home town. Apparently Boyce had mentioned at one point that the final Zebalga settlement in the 'home land' had been destroyed in the wars against the Magic-Bitches. Everyone had just thought it a lie to justify one of the attacks on an innocent village by the Zebalga, but suddenly it seemed likely. Boyce had said no one survived...

Apparently he was wrong.

They also asked me about the dreams with Ellone, if I'd ever had anything similar, and I had to sadly admit that I had, repeatedly. Ever since Boyce's disappearance I'd been having them, and Irvine mentioned something similar occurred with him since about the same time. The suspicion raised at that point was that we'd suffered a lot of the same things at the hands of Boyce, but I could tell there was something else Irvine suspected, though he still hasn't said anything.

I've also been taken off of active duty these last few months, put under extensive psychological, neurological, physiological, and whatever-ological magic and GF monitoring falls under. They've only determined that I am not, in fact, hallucinating all these memories, but that it is likely that the means by which I regained them was dangerous, as I'm still fatigued. Luckily my students don't have to learn flight from Selphie, which saves me extra stress in all of those tests. But the lack of doing anything was driving me crazy, until I finally caved in and demanded from Squall that I be sent to Esthar. Everyone who was monitoring me was based there anyway, so why shouldn't I just stay in my apartment there. Squall gave me an odd look, a silence I couldn't read, and allowed it.

In fact, Squall has done that a lot these last months. Silences I can't understand, over long looks followed by seeming ignorance, dropping in just to check on my in Esthar, or random middle of the night calls as if he doesn't know what time it is. Kiros, who visits as often as not, suggests that Squall is worried about me, but I don't know. I'm starting to wonder what would have happened if Squall and I had ever had that talk after I was done with Odine the day I disappeared. Now, I don't know if I want to deal with it.

The nightmares are getting worse, despite what the medication I'm given implies should happen. Every night Boyce is there, or Garden is in ruins, or Siren is ripped away from me by some unknown force, a man in black and red armor, and with eyes the color of adamantine. He talks to me sometimes, that man, but I never remember the words, or never quite understand them. And sometimes I dream of a foul mouthed man in blue, always badgering me about tea or fixing something, but it never really seems malicious. When I wake up from those, there are tears in my eyes.

The world seems to be settling down around me, finally recovered from the war, but I can't help but feel things aren't over yet. The memories still seem fresh for enough people. Just the way people freeze and look around when someone actually mentions anything that rhymes with 'Xu', that is enough to show they haven't forgotten.

Ah, there is the door. Kiros was coming back today with some food from the Presidential Kitchens. Far more important than some damn writing in a damn book.

"Fuckin piece of shit."

The last of Cid's patience with the Tiny Bronco had worn out, and he flung a wrench at the ground, swearing up a storm and not noticing how the heavy metal had just barely missed his right foot. The Bronco had just not been cooperating since...

Cid shook his head and fetched up the wrench and returned his attention to the tangle of wires blocking his sight from just where in the engine block he wanted to get to. Really, this shit was harder than he remembered. Not that he was getting too old for it, but his hands just weren't nimble, never had been. There were things you needed tools for, and there were things you needed small, quick hands for. And he hadn't had a pair of those around since...

"FUCK!" Cid shouted, refusing to continue that thought, and thinking a nice curse would draw his mind from it.

It didn't. Cid threw the wrench aside again and plopped down on the grass near the Bronco.

He'd thought that, given time, he'd think less and less about it. It had been months since the incident in Mideel. It had been long enough that he should get around to fucking cleaning the house, or moving that damn book from the kitchen table, or stop dirtying the pages as he read it again and again, to focus on the last words.

'Forgive me. I fear I must do something that will make neither of us happy. In case everything goes wrong, or right, I've left you a momento, other than this book. I'm sorry I didn't ask, but forgive me, for I had to take one for myself as well.'

After the first time reading it, Cid had discovered while cleaning that his box that stored his pilot wings had been moved. When he opened it he found an oddly glowing set there. Beside it he found his own wings. He had sworn.

What, had the kid just decided that Cid's wings weren't good enough to actually take?

The pilot cut off that line of thought immediately. He tried to reach for the wrench, but the spirit just wasn't in him anymore.

Things hadn't been the same since Nida had disappeared into the Lifestream.

There! He had said it. Now fuck you world from taking Nida from him!

Cid sighed and stood, intending to head inside and make some tea. He paused though, as he caught sight of something coming towards Rocket Town from beyond the direction of the rocket. It wasn't easy to make out at first, but Cid was always able to tell if something was moving or not.

And indeed, there was something, someone, moving purposefully towards Rocket Town right now. For a while Cid watched, trying to see if he could make out if it was a villager, someone he knew from outside of the area, or someone he'd have to beat the shit out of. For several minutes he watched, growing more and more disbelieving the closer and closer the figure got.

In the end, though, he said 'fuck you' to believing, opened the gate in his fence, and started running towards the advancing figure, cursing up a storm.

A thankful and joyful storm, but a storm none the less.

Author's Post-Notes: Well, there you have it. That is the end of Pilot Wings, but not the end at all (but I did promise relatively happy, right?). I hope to quite soon start on the story that has often been hinted at in Pilot Wings, and especially in these last chapters. So keep your eyes peeled. I can already tell you the story will be called 'Hyne's War', and once that is finished, I will write a sequel to Pilot Wings (provided I'm still writing by that time) called 'Eden's Chosen'. But for now, I just hope you enjoyed this story, and I'm sorry it took so long to write.

P.S. Hopefully for the next part I will be able to acquire a beta to put into the know, or who will at least be willing to read, edit, and make sure I don't fuck up continuity within that story itself, or between that story and this.

P.P.S. There will be one more chapter added after this, the original epilogue as I intended before Minerva decided she had to demand a price of Nida.