I apologize for the months long break between chapters. You know how it goes. Still unsure of where I want this to end, but we have a while a ways to go from here. Things will get better I promise!

I.

This had to have been the worst day of her life.

II.

The worst day was turning into the worst week. Cold stones were taking up a constant residence at the very bottom of Shera's stomach, and in her throat, a tense ball of guilt. She couldn't look any of her co-workers in the eye, and they couldn't do so either.

"Are um...You doing alright?"

Anyone who cared to come and check on her condition approached her with caution. At this point, what was anyone really supposed to say, or assume? The whole facility seemed to be unsure, frozen in time.

Except for Cid. Desperate to have things rolling again, there was word that he was throwing a full blown, good ol' fashioned fit.

She hadn't seen him since her first day in the hospital. He didn't say a word; leaving her alone with the physician. His eyes. Shera knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was angry with her. Perhaps angry wasn't a strong enough word.

"I'm... I'm not. It's all my fault."

III.

"I'm sure you can...deduce why I'm here, Ms. Joules."

Shera should have felt dread when she saw the older woman enter her recovery room, but her stomach couldn't sink any further. The anticipation of repercussions probably vexed her more than all of her raw, healing burns.

"I believe so." Shera righted her glasses and sat up straight. She was sure she looked a hot mess anyhow.

"Dr. Frankenhalther?" The question was asked in formality, of course Shera knew her name. Dr. Frankenhalther was an older, slender looking woman. If she hadn't been managing her, Shera would have easily mistaken her for a principal, maybe a court judge. And rightly so. If she was summoned, it usually wasn't because you did something good.

"Yes, I would like to say that it's nice to see you again," she paused "But, I bring you bad news. In response to the recent incident, you have been requested to appear before the president."

Shit.

"I understand…" Shera deeply sighed. She was wrong about her stomach not being able to sink any further. Or maybe it wasn't her stomach leaving her. She was feeling out of body again.

"I was told transportation is being arranged for you as soon as you're well enough to travel. You'll be accompanied by myself, Captain Highwind, and Director Palmer." The older woman slowly stepped to a side table nearest to Shera's bed. She extended her arm, placing down a folder with paperwork for Shera to fill out.

"Thank you." Shera's voice cut the back of her tongue. The inside of her mouth had dried to desert sand. The sound of her heels fresh on the linoleum, Dr. Frankenhalther was gone in the next moment, leaving Shera alone with blinking hospital equipment.

With privacy again, Shera allowed her glassy eyes to let go of all the moisture that had welled in the stinging corners. They burned down her cheeks in thin lines. She wasn't crying just because she was sad.

She was so angry.

IV.

…

V.

…

VI.

…

VII.

Three days crept past her. They moved so slowly and so silently that Shera hardly felt them leave. The weather today was mellow, unlike her mood. But she had to set her mood aside. Suck things up, because she was a big girl wasn't she? (She still felt like crying) Wasn't she?

Cid brushed by her while she was stuffing her bag into the private plane's overhead storage. "Excuse me." She pardoned her own blocking of the aisle.

Cid took his seat without any response. It wasn't often that he wasn't the one flying the plane. He clicked on his seat belt, closed his eyes, and made it quite clear he didn't feel like talking. His mind was on the meeting ahead of them. He was crossing his mental fingers, and trying to keep his temper from giving him a literal headache.

Palmer, in a seat ahead of him, was a fidgeting mess. Surely crossing everything. Shera imagined if he had a brown paper bag to wheeze into, he would have had it out. Maybe he'd have an extra one for her, too.

Dr. Frankenhalther was the last to enter the small private plane and situate her belongings. After that, the cabin was uncomfortably quiet.

Shera hardly paid any attention to the usual emergency and safety drilling. Though it stirred her stomach, take off didn't excite her like it should have, either. All of it, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't right. Looking out the window, seeing the sky and thickly clumped clouds from above only gave her a stronger sense of heartbrokeness.

When you n' me get our pats on the back...

Unlikely.

Snapping the window partition closed, Shera deflated into her seat. Only six more hours until they land.

VIII.

Midgar was somewhat like all the photos. It was an impressive, seven sectioned piece of man power and monopoly. As shiny and lively as it was, it was also entirely underwhelming. Shera supposed she should have expected that with being in such close proximity. Traveling the sectors showed her more than an over-touched, postcard photo would.

For one, it showed her all the pollution, second, an obvious lack of vegetation, and third, all of the riff raff. If she felt mainland on the research facility was different from her island, Midgar felt like a completely different dimension. A somewhat smelly dimension with red diamonds plastered around every metal and concrete corner.

"Our hotel is coming up at the next stop, um…" Palmer cleared his throat and squinted with narrowed, beady eyes at the bright light of his phone screen. Every time the train rolled over a rough track and lurched, it looked like it would fly right out of his hands.

"Oops! No, the third stop. Uh…" He was trying to hold the screen steady enough to read more "We'll be in conference with President ShinRa bright and early tomorrow at eight….oh, no that's eight...in the evening." Palmer pouted.

"Why so fuckin' late?!" Cid had chosen to stand instead of sit on one of the benches. He straightened out his back and blew fumes from a fresh cigarette from his nose. "This is important shit!"

"President ShinRa is probably dedicating his early day to sitting in with other projects." Dr. Frankenhalther answered. She was keeping the sway of her glasses chain from tangling in with stray portions of her hair.

"So this is a minor inconvenience? Not worth pinning to the top of the schedule?" Cid's tone was an irritated one. He finally took a seat as their last stop was finally approaching. Hand tight on the rail, the Captain's knuckles had turned white.

"Most likely." Dr. Frankenhalther crossed her arms, and then sighed. She would say for no one to keep up any hopes, but being in her position, she knew a little more than they did. "President ShinRa has a selective attention span. Don't you think, ?"

"Yeah….sure sure, Ross…" He patted his sweaty forehead with an handkerchief from his pocket. Dr. Frankenhalther's snakelike eyes were on his. They both knew they were beyond being on a hot bench. The meeting would probably leave the department head crispy and smoking.

The older woman set her eyes on Shera; noting and accepting her lack of comment. Their lines of sight crossed very briefly. Ross could see Shera chewing on the inside of her cheeks and the slight bags beneath her eyes. She guessed, the president couldn't chew her up and spit her out if she was already taking chunks out of herself. But Ross guessed again, considering Cid's incisors were probably sharp in a different, more painful fashion.

Most who worked the parameter knew that Captain Highwind and Ms. Joules had some sort of tangible fondness for one another. And most knew that Captain Highwind had a tangible temper, but the earlier week after the incident was a completely different monster from the Captain's usual bickering. He chewed out anyone, everyone, and everything. And yet, not the one who caused the source of his anxiety.

At least, not yet.

It was only a matter of time. What a mess…

IX.

No matter how many times she sighed, or how many deep breaths she took, Shera could not get her body to calm. Of all the times to no longer feel numb about things…

With one for each member of the trip, she had her privacy again in a relatively comfortable hotel room. Not bothering to unpack any of her things once she had settled inside, Shera took to pacing over the carpet before the made bed. The whir of the room's air conditioning responded to the drone of all of her thoughts. Everything was piling on at once, making it hard to really think.

She had never felt more in trouble, more guilty, in her life, just to reiterate.

Her legs weary, Shera finally sank down at the edge of her bed. She stared at herself in the mirror covering the room's provided closet. She still looked awful, with her uncombed hair, and raw skin, and waxy bandages, and tired hazel eyes. Shera touched her chapped lips, finally remembering that she was a thing that needed to drink water, and possibly eat. She couldn't recall if she ate at all during their trip.

She figured she would search for something after having a decent bath. Or maybe a quick shower would be better. If she sat too long, she'd be more submerged in her thoughts than the water. Shera was slipping in again even now. The thought of having to face the president scared her half to death, but the thought of having to speak to Cid scared her even more.

She desperately wanted to apologize, needed to do that for what common decency was worth. But no amount of words could possibly make up for ruining the one thing they had spent millions of Gil, and thousands of hours working for.

"Yeah, you know. Sorry I derailed your dreams with my little bastard hands." Shera sighed again at herself. There was a momentary surge of anger. She snatched up the headboard pillow and snarled into it. It was her fault. It wasn't her fault.

Shower, eat, finish filling out paperwork, dread tomorrow and the rest of her career, but hope relentlessly that things would be okay.

And talk to him, talk to him, talk to him, coward.

X.

Shera had been so anxious to speak with Cid, that she forgot to slip on her shoes. Her hair, still wet from her shower, clung to the back of her neck and left a spot large enough over her back, that her bra and bandages could be seen through the fabric of her night clothes.

The tiled flooring of the dim lobby was hard and cold through her socks. There was another person awake, waiting for the elevator. Shera could see out of the corner of her eye that they were concerned from her appearance. She got off on the proper backlit number before they could consider prying into if she was in need of help. The chlorine fumes from the ground floor pool was immediately evicted from her nose; with the scent of tobacco from the smoking section taking its place.

This was probably the right floor.

XI.

"Cid... It's me."

Cid had ignored the knock at first, assuming that Palmer was back to pester him about tomorrow evening. The sound of Shera's voice brought him from the chair he was wallowing in. He stopped in front of the door, and forced himself to look through the peephole.. He considered just telling her to go away.

"What the hell do you want?"

There was a brief pause. Cid could feel Shera take a little step back.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm... I'm very sorry." He could hardly hear her.

"Yeah, I bet you are! That all you got to say?!" Cid was trying to keep the growl from his voice, but it was difficult. Every shred of instinct, every ounce in him wanted to ring her little neck.

"N-no, um…" Another pause.

The door rattled with Cid yanking out all the locks and latches. He ripped the threshold open, his partially bare body blocking entry to keep her out in the hall.

"If you're gonna wait this damn long to say somethin' to me, y'think you'd have the damn decency to not waste any more of my time while doin' it? Is that all you have to say? I'm sorry?"

"I'm...Sorry." Shera pulled at her fingers, focusing her glossed eyes on the carpet. "I didn't mean for, I didn't want any of this to happen. I wanted that rocket to launch more than anything. But-"

"You couldn't fuckin' help yourself, huh?" It irritated him to no end that she wouldn't look him in his face. "You'd save a whole lot of pain in the ass if you would just stop messin' with things that are perfectly fine. If you would stop being such a goddamn nitpicking, selfish perfectionist." Cid spat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sharply exhaled because he could feel himself becoming red in the face, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Cid, I'll-" Shera thickly swallowed "I can...I'll make it up to you somehow."

"Captain. Highwind." Cid's hand was firm on the door frame. The metal stressed beneath his tensed fingers. "And I've had enough of you for now, no thanks."

Shera's head snapped up to him then. Her eyes filled with something Cid couldn't discern. She blinked as if she was recovering from being slapped right in the face. He might as well have.

"Sir…" She corrected herself. Her tone bristled him further. "Please, I can explain everything."

"Then you better pray to whatever god you get on your knees for, that you're damn good at explaining tomorrow. Because I'm not going down again for anyone."

XII.

He slammed the door right in her face, and returned to dissolving into the room chair. Cid pulled another cigarette from the carton tossed over his bed, and smoked it down to the butt in silence.

All of her bandaged burns. Her thick, furrowed eye brows. The dark circles beneath her eyes. The expression he didn't quite understand. Cid knew she was hurt and sorry. But he couldn't keep doing this again.

For better or for worse, regardless of how much he wanted her, this was another red flag if he ever saw one.

He meant it. He wasn't going down for any man, or any woman ever again.

XIII.

3 New voicemail(s)

Hello? Shera? You haven't called me in a while. I've been watching the news? What happened? Please, call me when you can, Love You…

...

Shera, It's Mama. I'm calling to check up on you again. I just want to know if you're okay.

...

My daughter you have to call me eventually. Your roommate picked up the home phone...Are you in Midgar? What is going on? I'm afraid for you… I'm not going to stop calling until I know you're okay. Like me or not, whatever happened, I still love you.

Call me.

XIV.

The mid floor of the ShinRa company building was still active for being so late. People worked at desks as if it was still midday, like there wasn't a literal, somewhat bourgeoisie dining party happening a few floors below them.

Shera's anxious breaths came in soft, inaudible puffs through her nose as a secretary lead their group through several winding hallways and stairs to the top floor: the president's office.

Palmer, more so to himself than she, Captain Highwind, or Ross, complained that they weren't conversing in the big, comfortable meeting room. And he quite disliked that they weren't utilizing the fancy steel elevators. All of this really didn't matter to Shera.

That was actually a lie. Without the excessive steps, they'd be there sooner. She was still drilling her explanations in her head. Thinking of what to say, and her own broken heart, had kept her up the night before. The least both organs owed her was the right damn thing to say.

"The president will be with you in a moment." The secretary gave them all a fake smile, and then took the stairs back down.

"Un-fucking believable." The Captain muttered with crossed arms. If there ever was more of an insult...The boss late to his own meeting. None of them took a seat, as there were none aside from the President's empty, red, leather chair. They were either unwelcome, or not a care in the world was given for this slice of ShinRa's investments.

"Let's get this over with." Ross took out records from her satchel, and then organized them on a clipboard. Faintly, movement and muffled conversation could be heard from behind an immaculate double door.

The office was quiet again as the President made his 'grand entry', flanked by a woman in a rather... interesting, crimson red, feather boa trimmed evening gown that plunged down to her stomach. Shera's expression twisted at the sight of them.. President ShinRa appeared the way she expected him to. Stout, stern, old money. And, the other woman...Something told her that she was the so called Scarlet.

Blue eyes steady, just as old and sharp as Ross' looked from face to face. President ShinRa lowered into his chair. His stubby, masculine fingers drummed an armrest, while the other balanced a freshly lit cigar. He was dressed in an expensive looking, red tuxedo; probably from participating in his own party.

"I want to make this quick, as not to be rude to my dinner guests." The President spoke slowly around the browned paper of his cigar; seeming to be addressing Palmer first and foremost. "Tell me why you have wasted my money and my resources, and why I should give you more?"

Before Palmer could even contemplate opening his mouth, Captain Highwind spoke. "There ain't any waste in this, just some set backs. We can pull through and make this happen if we get one more chance." Shera, barely catching the determination set in his features, wondered how he could still appear so confident at a time like this. His body was coiled as if he had been waiting.

The President's attention moved slowly. The motion reminded Shera of a scrutinizing security camera. "Ah...Captain Highwind. You're a fellow of second chances, aren't you?"

Scarlet broke her silence at his side and snorted.

"You see. I've given seconds, and thirds, and be exact, I've given twenty sixths. So, what was the setback this time? I'm curious." His expression didn't elude to that.

Just as icy as they had been all week, the Captain's blue eyes flickered in Shera's direction. "I think Joules here can better explain."

Recognizing everyone but Shera, the President moved to her. He didn't say a word, expecting her to spit it out for him. Her heart rattled in her ribs. All of her accounts, reasons, and explanations became a jumbled unusable mess under the density of his gaze. Her lips felt glued together, and her voice mute. All eyes on her, everyone was waiting.

Minor seconds felt like painful hours. She was trying to call upon her right mind, and when she found it, it asked her: What was the point? The first thing she had wanted to spotlight, was that really, all of this wasn't her fault. But, what proof did she have with her? Literally none. How would it would make her sound? Like a conniving bitch, blaming someone irrelevant to save her skin.

Robin was a minor employee who had followed the orders he was given. Robin wasn't here. And unlike her, he wasn't unauthorized to be in that chamber minutes before an official launch.

XV.

"President ShinRa," Shera cleared her throat and balled her sweaty palms at her sides. "I am...Shera Joules, one of the over seers of the um, Rocket chambers and machinery. I detected an ongoing fault with one of the...liquid oxygen tanks. I had ran out of time trying to remedy it, and Captain Highwind had halted the launch to prevent my...passing."

President ShinRa pulled his cigar from the corner of his lips. He sighed, the exhaust leaving his nostrils in thick, slithering snakes. He briefly checked the time on his wristwatch, and then passed his whittled cigar to Scarlet, who with a slimy smile, smothered it in a ashtray.

"So, Captain Highwind, do you think her life was worth thirty nine billion Gil?"

Captain Highwind squared his jaw, keeping a scowl from becoming his obvious reaction to the offending question. He focused his eyes on the curve of Shera's cheek, and then took a tempered step to the side. Palmer, who had been silent and cowering behind him, spooked at being revealed, and then stood up straight now that he was back in the President's plain line of sight.

"Don't really think you put a price on that." The math didn't escape Cid.

Shera's life was going to cost the whole program.

XVI.

The ac in her hotel room hustled on again, generating plenty of racket and chilling her toes at the other end of the bed. Shera had pulled a pillow up over her head to hide her tears and tissue raw nose. The TV was turned down low, and then eventually turned off. Her mistake was vague, but constantly broadcasting ticker tape.

"Hey, Mama...I'm sorry I haven't called you." Shera tried to sound neutral through the dampness in her voice. She was sure her mother could still hear it, though. There was a long moment where mother Joules didn't say a word, but despite the silence, her concern was loud and clear through the speaker.

"I'm really sorry you haven't called me either. Tell me what's going on."

"If I tell you everything, I'll start crying again, and I just stopped."

Yolanda hated when Shera did this, but started the commenced puzzle with prodding the edges. "Then what hurts the least?"

"The fact that I have no job." Shera sniffed.

"What is in the middle…?" She could hear her mother's confusion as she tried to piece things together.

"The fact that no one else is going to have a job either…"

"What in the world…?" There was no other comment on that.

"So what's really turning on the faucet?"

"He's never going to look at me the same."