"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea."

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aerith was huffing and puffing by the time they had finished climbing the stairs leading to Upper Junon. Her heart was beating hard as well, though not only because of the physical effort. The upper part of the city was surely crawling with Shinra soldiers on alert for anything out of the ordinary. Cloud was confident that he could lead them through the military compound with no one being any the wiser. Of course Aerith trusted him, but it was still frightening to think of everything that could go wrong as they made their way to Upper Junon. Poor Tifa was not faring any better; her face was pale, and she moved stiffly, as if awaiting a fight.

Still, there was something thrilling about going right under Shinra's massive metaphorical nose. As Cloud had predicted, the soldiers they passed were too nervous about the upcoming parade to pay them any heed. Aerith almost felt like giggling; she was nervous, yes, but also giddy at her own recklessness.

She let out a breath of relief as they finally emerged out of the military base. Now they were standing upon a flat, open surface, a clear sky above their head. Aerith gazed upward, knowing all too well that this simple action was a luxury that many living under Shinra's heel could not afford. The great blue unknown was still scary to her, so different from the nourishing black soil in which she had grown her flowers. Yet it was hard to tear her eyes away; she could not deny the sky's beauty, nor the pull it had over her.

She glanced down and gasped, finding another wondrous sight. A gigantic ship, sleek and silver, hovered on the other end of the airstrip. Aerith stilled, suddenly unable to move. The turbines whirred, a comforting noise despite their gigantic size. That sound could have lulled Aerith to sleep—here, under the majesty of this cloudless sky.

She was struck with a strange longing—the same thrill, mixed with fear, that she had felt upon seeing the great blue for the first time after exiting Midgar. She wanted to reach out and touch the sky with her own hand; would the clouds feel as fluffy as they looked? She knew the silver ship could take her there, oh, she knew it could serve as her means of escape, of salvation.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" said a voice beside her. Aerith startled, finding an unknown face peering at her. The fresh-faced, grinning youth was not dressed like a Shinra soldier; instead, he was wearing the brighter blues of an airman. Several other people, clad in the same uniform, were busying themselves around the airstrip, carrying supplies and moving materials from one place to the other.

Aerith blushed; she had not realized she had walked away from the others in her daze. "Uh… she sure is, yeah."

"The Highwind," the young man continued; it seemed he was excited enough about the topic that he did not need any prompting on her part. "The crown jewel of the Shinra fleet. A marvel of technology she is, I tell you."

"Do they allow civilians on it?" Aerith blurted out, feeling a bit of his eagerness herself. "I mean—I'd really like to…"

He shook his head, sadly. "At first they did, from what I heard. Now it's for Shinra officials only."

"Oh," said Aerith, turning to watch the great airship again. She felt a prickling in her heart as she beheld its—her—beauty. "I'd love to go flying someday. In a real airship, I mean."

The young man's smile was kind. "Who knows? Never stop dreaming, miss! Perhaps you'll go there someday."

Aerith beamed back at him. From behind, she could hear Tifa calling out for her. "Perhaps I will," she said, her spirits slightly lifted. To keep on dreaming: that was something she could do, after all. Otherwise, how else would have she survived the bleak hell that was Sector 5?

Aerith waved the young airman goodbye, before finally following Tifa out of the airfield.

She would never see the Highwind again.

Rocket Town, Aerith Gainsborough mused, wore its name well.

The village itself was small and ordinary, with only a few modest houses built around an array of well-trodden, muddied roads. Ancient vehicles drove along these streets, their exhaust pipes letting out puffs of dark smoke as they went. Hardy-looking people sat on their porches, keeping watch while they exchanged gossip and drinks. The whole town reminded Aerith of a cleaner version of Midgar's Sector Five; she would almost have felt at home if not for one thing.

The large figure of the rocket, looming over the village in the distance.

"Look at the size of that thing!" Aerith called cheerfully, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.

"Aren't they afraid it'll fall on the town some day?" said Yuffie. "I mean, it's clearly tilting on the side!"

Cloud shrugged. "Yeah. They're going to have an awful mess on their hands when that rocket does fall to the ground."

"Another crisis of Shinra's making," Barret grumbled, walking forward. The few townspeople present in the streets gave him anxious glances and mistrustful stares. His gun-arm tended to put people on edge. "C'mon, y'all," he said. "We'll just be passing through. Spiky, you go with me to find lodgings for the night."

"Right," Cloud answered.

"Oh, oh!" Yuffie said, hopping up and down. "Can I shop for mat—I mean, supplies and stuff?"

"I'll come with you," added Nanaki.

That was met with a grimace on Yuffie's part. "I was hoping for someone who's got, y'know, a working pair of hands?"

"You want a mule for the things you buy, in other words?" a deadpan Nanaki replied. "Fine, I get it…"

In the end, Vincent was 'convinced', for a lack of a better word, to accompany Yuffie on her shopping trip. Barret and Cloud left as well, heading toward the nearest inn. Aerith found herself walking alongside the village's muddied roads along with Nanaki, Cait Sith and her best girl Tifa. Their own objective, given by an ever-solemn Cloud, was to find a means of travel capable of crossing the sea. At this command, Aerith had enthusiastically saluted and said, "Aye aye, cap'n!" which had earned her an eye roll on the part of their valiant, yet unofficial leader.

She took her 'mission' very seriously, going to every villager they met along the way to ask for information. Immediately, the people of Rocket Town started to gush about their unofficial mayor: a man they affectionately called the Captain. "A dreamer," one lady called him, "with all the passion to match." "A real genius, the genuine article," added a man working on an old pickup truck in his entryway. "None of us would be here if not for ol' Cap'n Highwind."

"Highwind?" Aerith repeated, with some excitement. "Like the airship?"

"The one and only!" the man said, laughing. "That's the first project we all worked on, back when Shinra…" He sighed, then, before muttering, "Well, as the Captain would say, no use cryin' over spilled tea, right? Those were good times, but it's all in the past, yeah?"

"Your Captain sounds wise," Aerith said. She remembered the Highwind, recalled the awe she had felt at the sight of such a mechanical marvel. She imagined the Captain to be a man with Barret's gruff wisdom and Cloud's nonchalant assurance. "It'll be fun to meet him!"

At that, the man gave another laugh, though it was a bit forced. "Fun, you say? Sure, dependin' on your meanin' of 'fun', heh…"

Aerith did not pay any mind to that strange comment. A few moments later, she and her companions learned that there was a small airfield built on the outskirts of the village. "That's where most of us work, actually," a kind, grandfatherly-looking man explained to Aerith as he carried his groceries back to his home. "We're engineers and mechanics, the lot of us. Used to work on the rocket back there, when the Space Program was still active."

"I heard of Shinra's Space Program," mused Aerith, "but I don't know much about it, really."

"Why is the rocket still there?" Tifa asked. "Did something go wrong with the launch?"

A pained expression showed on the man's aged face. "You could say that," he muttered. "Damn long story, it is… and no one here enjoys telling it. Someone made a mistake, a stupid one, and…"

"Oh," said Aerith. She exchanged a look with Tifa, who shook her head. "Well, thanks for telling us about the airfield, mister!"

He tipped his hat with a chuckle. "You're quite welcome, lil' missy!"

Still, despite the old man's assurance to the contrary, the airstrip was empty of people. The few aircrafts they spotted were old and small, surely meant to carry only a few people at best. It was a far cry from the fleet of technologically-advanced airships that Shinra commandeered at Junon. But there was something inspiring about these few planes, rickety as they were; they were a tangible proof that Shinra did not own the sky in spite of all their military posturing.

One craft was bigger than the other, painted a bright pink hue. Aerith instinctively knew this airplane was beloved by its owner, that it was pampered like a precious heirloom. She smiled at the name written on the side: Tiny Bronco.

"This is cool," Tifa said, examining the plane as well. "It seems big enough to carry passengers, at least."

"If Yuffie were here," Cait said cheerfully, "surely, she'd ask if we could steal it." As Aerith and Tifa both turned to look at him with their eyebrows raised, he chuckled and added, "You know she would, the wee hellion!"

"Can I help you?" a voice said from behind, stopping Aerith in the middle of her reprimand. A woman was walking toward them from the house closest to the airstrip. She was wearing a labcoat over her turtleneck sweater, and her auburn hair was gathered in a messy ponytail. Meanwhile, inquisitive, russet-brown eyes gazed at them from behind thick, round glasses. "Are you looking to buy the Captain's services?"

"Uh, yeah," Tifa said. "We're in need of transport, yes."

The woman nodded. "I'm Shera Del Norte Marquez. And you are…?"

Aerith could see that Tifa had gone stiff. The woman—Shera—had made no sign that she had recognized them from their wanted posters—but Aerith could understand Tifa's unease all too well.

"I'm Aerith," she said, moving to shake Shera's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Shera attempted a smile, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "You're not with Shinra, then," she said. "When I heard of visitors being seen in the village, well…"

Shock registered on Tifa's face for a moment, before she remembered to mask her emotions. "People from Shinra are supposed to come here today?"

"Yes. The President himself is on his way, or so we were told."

"That's interesting!" Aerith said brightly, to divert attention away from Tifa, who had noticeably paled. "Must be quite the occasion, then!"

"The Captain is hoping they'll announce the revival of the Space Project, yes. He's been restless all morning." From Shera's tone, it seemed she did not share the man's optimism. There was a wariness to the woman, something you'd see in a prey species used to evade and deflect and hide in order to survive.

Or, Aerith realized with a pang, in a person who had gotten hurt over and over again—and who knew all too well that the metaphorical blows would still keep on coming.

"Would you like to come inside?" Shera said, motioning to the house behind them. "The Captain will be along shortly. Maybe you'll have time to discuss what you need before the people from Shinra come."

"Maybe!" Aerith agreed.

Shera guided them to the door at the back of the house. Immediately upon entering, Aerith was assaulted by the pungent smell of tobacco. Inside was a mess of epic proportion; Aerith's mother would have tutted and shook her head at the sight. Tools of all types were strewn across the living room and the kitchen, while various papers—bills and blueprints, mainly—covered almost every workable surface. The sink was overflowing with dirty plates and cups. Aerith was almost dizzy from taking it all in; someone—Captain Highwind—lived here? How did he not go mad from all that clutter? Aerith wouldn't even last two days!

"Please, take a seat," Shera said, motioning to the quaint-looking chairs around the table. At least the furniture was nice, Aerith noted. "I'm sure it won't be long before the Captain returns. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice!" said Aerith, as the ever-polite Tifa added, "Why yes, thank you."

"I could serve scones with your—"

Shera never had the time to finish her sentence. The door flew wide open, and the stench of cigarettes suddenly grew more pronounced. A man was standing in the doorway, shoulders squared, a scowl etched on his grizzled features. From the goggles above his brow and the blue bomber jacket he was wearing, it seemed that he was a pilot of some sort. Cool blue eyes scanned the premises, focusing on Aerith, then Tifa, Nanaki and Cait. Finally, the blond-haired man turned to Shera, and shouted, "The hell, woman?! Are ya blind?! We got guests, get some tea!"

Shera stilled in the heat of that glare; she seemed to shrink, even. The spark in her eyes extinguished, her gaze growing flat. A slow horror washed over Aerith at the sight. Tifa seemed similarly frozen in shock. After a brief moment that stretched uncomfortably long, Shera muttered, "O-Of course, Captain, right away…"

"Don't mind us," Tifa managed. "We were just here for—"

The Captain passed a shaky hand through his short blond hair. "Aw, shut it," he let out in a low growl. "Jus' sit your ass down in that chair and drink your goddamn tea! Or ain't my hospitality good enough for ya?"

His hospitality was downright offensive, by Aerith's standards. Hearing no response, the Captain slumped into a chair and, to Aerith's great horror, put his dirty boots on the table (Gaia's mercy, but Elmyra would have thrown him out of the house for that alone, Aerith was sure). The man took his cigarette stub out of his mouth, putting it out on an ashtray Shera quickly placed in front of him. Then, finally—finally!—the Captain turned bored eyes toward Aerith and the others.

"So," he drawled, regarding each of them in succession; Aerith noted that he frowned slightly as he paused on Nanaki and Cait Sith. "You people are in need of transport, yeah?"

"Yes," said Tifa. "We were wondering if, um, we could go—"

"Where?" said the Captain. "And fer how many?"

(Oh, Aerith was a pacifist and a healer by trade, but if there was one man in the world who deserved a thorough thrashing right now, well…)

For a moment, Tifa looked like she wanted nothing more than to give him a well-deserved earful. She was the kindest, most patient person Aerith knew, but even a saint such as her had her limits.

"Across the sea," Tifa said, all warmth gone from her voice. "And for six people and two—"

"Pets?" the Captain completed, glancing dismissively at Nanaki and Cait Sith. The former let out a low growl, while the latter gave an insolent little wave. The Captain grimaced in response.

"Well, fine then," he muttered, getting out of his chair. "I'll be in the back, fine-tunin' the Bronco." And without so much as a glance backward at Shera, the man strode away, leaving through the back door.

When he was gone, Aerith turned to Shera and said, "Goodness! What's up with him?"

"Well," Shera answered, not meeting her eyes, "he's been stressing all morning about the President's visit and—"

"That doesn't excuse anything!" Tifa said, giving the other woman a look of sympathy. "You don't deserve to be treated that way."

"He wasn't always like that," Shera said, putting two teacups on the table. "Before the failure of the launch, he was…" She sighed, looking ever so weary. "That was his dream, you see? Going to space, seeing the stars. And it was our dream, sending him there."

"What happened?" Aerith said, as she and Tifa sat down. "Why did Shinra cancel the program?"

Shera filled their cups with a lovely rose-patterned teapot. Then, she backed away, leaning on the kitchen counter. Again, Aerith noted the flatness of her gaze, how her shoulders slumped as if weighed down by an invisible burden. The story came out of Shera's mouth in a monotone even as she spoke of the excitement, the restlessness, that they had all felt on the day of the launch. Still, her voice grew a little livelier as she mentioned how it was, working as a crew together toward a common goal. It made Aerith smile; she had met such people in the slums of Midgar, dreamers who could make miracles happen through sheer determination—and just a wee bit of elbow grease.

Shera glanced at a picture as she told her story: it depicted said crew, with the Captain and Shera at the middle. The man looked younger, more handsome, with a disarmingly charming grin and bright blue eyes filled with boyish excitement. He had his arm wrapped around Shera's shoulders, and the latter was smiling sweetly at the camera. Aerith suddenly understood, her heart twisting painfully; this was the man to whom Shera was so devoted. The man she no doubt still loved even after everything that had happened between them, even after all the hurt that he had heaped upon her.

"Things were going so fast," Shera continued. "I was checking one of the oxygen tanks when the final order was given. Cid himself told me to go. He was laughing, I remember. He'd checked them himself, he kept telling me. But I wasn't satisfied. Cid always said I always got anxious over nothing, but with his life in the balance, I just couldn't…"

"Go on," Aerith said, as gently as she could. The tea was delicious, bitter but with a bright hint of bergamot. Shera had given them some homemade scones, which also proved to be rather yummy. Aerith was reminded of her mother's famous cookies, and she felt another stab of homesickness.

"Before the launch got underway, I snuck back in to check the oxygen tank. I thought I would have enough time—but they must have moved the moment of the launch. I was trapped there. And once the rocket's engines would go off, well…" Poor Shera went pale. Aerith herself felt the blood draining from her cheeks when she understood the fate Shera had narrowly averted. "I would have been burned to a crisp."

"So the Captain stopped the launch," said Tifa.

"Yes," Shera said, "to save my life. The Shinra higher-ups weren't happy. They felt like it had all been a waste of time and money. They just couldn't see the point of it anymore."

"That's why they cancelled the Space Program," continued Aerith, with great disgust, "because your Captain had made the 'mistake' of saving your life."

"We were laid off," Shera said, dully, "the lot of us. Shinra didn't want anything to do with us." A faint smile showed on her mouth. "But the village bounced back, as you saw. They're a hardy lot, the Captain's crew."

Yet they all see you as responsible for their misery, Aerith completed in her head. It just wasn't fair. The bigwigs at Shinra had been the ones to destroy their dream, not her.

"Afterwards, Cid… let himself go. He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't sleep. Every day, he just went to the rocket to tinker on it, hour after hour without stopping. I stepped in because… well, I didn't want to have him starve to death, you see? He had stopped taking care of himself… so someone had to."

And that someone had to be you? Aerith thought, sadly. What a miserable situation. And yet she did not want to feel pity for the Captain, not after she had seen how horrible he had been to poor Shera. Yet, she felt sympathy all the same, remembering the wide grin on his younger self in that picture. The man she'd met today was hollow-cheeked, with dark bags under his eyes—a far cry from the charming pilot who had once dreamed of the stars.

"So the Captain treats you that way," said Tifa, "because he lays the blame at your feet instead of Shinra? That's still not enough of an excuse."

"He saved my life," Shera answered, her smile growing sad. "Destroying his own in the process."

"He seems very alive to me," muttered Nanaki.

Shera startled, looking at him with wide eyes. "What on Gaia…?"

There was the door of a door slamming, then the stomping of boots on the floor. The Captain—Cid—reappeared in the kitchen, grinning wildly. Despite his gaunter cheeks, he immediately was more reminiscent of the man Aerith had seen in that picture. "The President's here!" he called out. "Chopper's just touched down, and that dumbass Palmer's with him, they say!"

"That's wonderful," Shera managed, though it seemed she did not share his enthusiasm. She glanced over at Tifa, who was clasping her hands in her lap, and frowned slightly. Then she addressed Aerith, "Why don't you and your friends wait in the living room while the Captain is speaking with the people from Shinra? It won't take long, I'm sure of it."

"That's a good idea, yes," said Aerith, getting up. Shera met her eyes, nodding a little. The woman was rather perceptive, it seemed—and quite discrete too, which was a relief.

They followed her out of the kitchen while Cid paced behind them, completely ignoring them. A second later, and the front door swung open, revealing a jovial-looking, rotund old man in a rather ugly yellow three-piece suit.

"Hey, hey, Cid!" said the newcomer. "How has it been, dear boy?"

"Well," said the Captain, "if it ain't fat man Palmer! How long were you figurin' on keepin' me waitin'?"

Palmer's smile immediately dissipated. "I'll be! That's one way to greet one's superior, young man!"

Cid didn't acknowledge the barb, only saying, "Where's the President? He was s'posed to be here, wasn't he?"

"He's outside. Why don't you go talk to him?"

"Tch! Useless as always!" Cid spat out, rushing out of the house while Palmer stood awkwardly, giving a despondent sigh. Not long after, the Shinra executive turned to Shera, smiling as if nothing had happened.

"Ah," said Palmer, "Ms. Montes, is it?"

From the gap in the door, Aerith could see Shera rolling her eyes heavenward, something that went unseen by the too-cheerful director of the defunct Space Program. Still, the woman said, with the practised ease of someone used to such occurrences, "Marquez. My last name is Marquez."

Palmer did not acknowledge her words, only saying, "I'll take my tea with a big healthy wallop of honey. Oh, oh, and don't forget the lard, too!"

"Daft man," Cait Sith muttered from behind Aerith. He was looking over her shoulder and shaking his furred head. "I swear he grows dumber by the decade."

"You know him…?" Tifa murmured.

Before (a rather flustered-looking) Cait could answer, Shera approached the door behind which Aerith was hiding, whispering so Palmer could not hear, "You should get going. You can leave through the back, and the Shinra soldiers won't see you."

"Thank you," Aerith replied, prompting a faint smile from the other woman.

She and Tifa left through the back door as quietly as possible, followed by Nanaki and Cait Sith. In front of the Captain's house, a commotion seemed to be happening. The man was yelling, loud and clear, though his interlocutor was speaking more softly. From this angle, hidden behind a fence, Aerith could see a few Shinra soldiers gathered in the street. A figure in a white coat—Rufus Shinra himself, she realized with a start—stood in front of them with his arms crossed.

"My vehicle was damaged on the way," the President said. "I would have sent for another helicopter, but most are stationed at Junon at the moment. It would take too long for them to get here. And time is of the essence."

"You can't just take somethin' that belongs to someone else!" shouted the Captain in response. "The Bronco's mine! At least let me—"

"This is a sensitive mission," Rufus cut him off, coolly. "I'll have my own men fly the plane. You will be adequately compensated, rest assured."

"You already stole the Highwind and the stars from me!" hollered Cid. "Are you going to steal the sky from me too?!"

The soldiers raised their rifles, advancing in a threatening manner. The onlooking townspeople stepped back in horror. Aerith could not see the Captain's face from where she was standing, but she could imagine his rage all too well. It was an anger she felt as well, one she had learned to conceal over years of hiding from Shinra. She did not agree with Barret's methods, but she could not deny that he was right; everywhere they went, Shinra destroyed lives and dreams.

"Aerith!" someone hissed behind her. Tifa was pointing at the airstrip—or, more precisely, at the Tiny Bronco. Director Palmer was climbing inside the plane, surreptitiously throwing glances around.

"He's stealing it, the sly bugger!" said Cait Sith.

"We need to stop him!" said Aerith, standing to run toward the airfield, Tifa and the others hot on her heels. With a purr, the engine of the Tiny Bronco came alive. "Stop it!" Aerith shouted, waving her arms in the air. To her surprise, Palmer actually hopped out of the plane, looking curious and clueless.

That was when she realized he actually had a gun.

"What on Gaia—" the old man began, aiming at them. His eyes widened in realization. "You! You're that Avalanche scum! And Hojo's runaway specimens!"

At this, Nanaki growled, "I'm not a specimen. Let go of that gun, or else…"

"You're threatening me?" Palmer retorted. He pointed his gun at Tifa, who glowered at him. "Do you truly want to see the mess that will make of your friend's skull?"

Fright shot through Aerith's veins. "Wait, what did you do to Shera?"

"Shera? Ms. Montes, you mean? Oh, she's fine. People usually make the right call when faced with the barrel of a gun."

As Aerith and Tifa gasped in horror, Cait Sith jumped from Nanaki's back, crying out, "You bastard! How dare you!" Aerith had been too shocked to realize that Cait had not spoken in his usually colourful accent.

Palmer laughed, slapping his knee. "Oh, the others, they're always looking down on me, like, like I'm some useless old fool, but they'll see, they'll see, once I catch the infamous terrorists who—"

There was a terrible screech—the squeal of rubber tires against the pavement—then a stomach-churning thud that made the hair on Aerith's neck stand on end. A truck had just appeared out of nowhere, hitting Palmer mid-sentence. Aerith screamed, "Holy shit!" as Tifa and Nanaki stared blankly at the spot where the man had been gloating just seconds prior.

A slight figure jumped out of the truck. "Did I get 'im?" said Yuffie; Vincent leaped after her, as silent as ever. "Are you guys hurt?"

"Do you have a driving licence, lassie?" Cait asked, bemusedly, while Aerith said, hands going to her mouth, "Oh, Planet, did you just kill him?!"

Yuffie turned slightly green. "I wasn't driving that fast, honest! He can't be dead, can he?"

Vincent walked up to the twitching, bloodied form of Palmer. He cocked his gun toward the old man's head. "In a few seconds, he will be," he enunciated coldly.

"No!" cried Aerith. She rushed to Palmer's side, casting a low-level healing spell to stabilize his wounds as best as she could. A faint wheeze escaped his mouth, his blue eyes weakly focusing on her. "Oh, Gaia, that scared me…"

"Uh," said Cait, "the plane…"

"What the hell's going on here?" came a familiar shout. From out of the corner of her eye, Aerith saw that Barret and Cloud had arrived at the airfield as well. "We were in the rocket with that Cid guy," continued Barret, "but then we heard that Shinra soldiers were coming to town."

"The President himself is here," Tifa said, making Barret curse. She turned to Cloud, wringing her hands together. "Oh, what should we do?"

"The plane, it's…"

"The soldiers haven't noticed us," Cloud said. "We should leave before there's more trouble."

"What about the townspeople?" Tifa countered. "Will they be alright?"

"HEY-HO, PEOPLE!" Cait suddenly shouted, jumping up and down, wildly waving his arms in the air. Everyone startled, looking at him. "The plane's moving, fellas!"

It took Aerith a few seconds to realize that, yes, the Tiny Bronco was indeed slowly moving down the runway. Cloud's eyes widened comically, and he uttered, "Oh, shit!"

"Let's get in," said Vincent, earning himself many confused stares. "We need some means of transport, yes? Here's one."

"You want to steal it?" Aerith squeaked, all while Yuffie called, "C'mon, Shinra stole it first, we're just stealing it back!"

There was no time to debate it further; the whole of the group chased after the Tiny Bronco, scrambling to squeeze inside its small space. Vincent strode toward the cockpit, sitting in the pilot's chair.

"Wait, d'you know how to steer this thing?!" Yuffie said, clearly beset by mounting panic.

"I cannot say," replied Vincent, prompting a cry of alarm from the poor girl. "It's a more recent model than the aircrafts on which I was trained."

"Oh, Hell's bells…" muttered Barret as the plane left the ground.

It was not a graceful takeoff by any means. The plane shook like a leaf in the wind, and it strained to get enough altitude. Aerith had managed to buckle herself in, but Cait had not, and the poor kitty was sent flying to the ceiling when the plane was hit by turbulence. Nanaki dug in his claws in the metal of the floor to avoid a similar fate. Yuffie clung to Tifa's arm, whining, "I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die—"

And yet…

I'm flying, Aerith thought. She'd been in the air before, back when Tseng had captured her after the fall of the Sector Seven plate, but that was different. It felt different. A sense of wonder bloomed alongside the fear currently gripping her. She had left the earth behind—something that had been impossible only a few generations ago. Aerith almost found herself smiling despite her fright. Almost.

Finally, the plane managed to turn, heading toward the village. From the window, Aerith could see the townspeople gaping and pointing skyward. Rufus Shinra waved an arm around, and his soldiers aimed their weapons toward the Tiny Bronco. Aerith's heart leaped in her throat as the bullets began to graze the body of the plane. In their midst, Cid Highwind stood very still. Even from this distance, Aerith could spy the horror on his face.

As the Tiny Bronco came to fly over the town, the Captain broke into a run. Aerith could not believe her eyes then; in one graceful, impossible motion, Cid Highwind leaped, landing on the Bronco's wing with a heavy thud. Yuffie screamed and screamed as the plane started to shake even more.

The door had not been closed properly. Cid swung it open and stumbled in, falling face first on the floor. Muttering curses, the Captain made his way—first by crawling, then walking, with great difficulty—toward the cockpit.

"Get out of my chair!" he hollered to Vincent, who swiftly obeyed that command. The Captain sat, taking the steering wheel and pushing a few buttons on the control console. "Aw, shit, shit, shit, shit, tail's been hit!"

"What's going on?" said Cloud.

"We're losing altitude!" replied Cid. Various alarms were going off and red lights flashed on the console in front of him. "We're going down!" As poor Yuffie and Cait started to scream, the Captain added, gruffly, "This's gonna be a big splash. Hang on to your drawers and don't piss in 'em!"

Beneath them, the blurred greens of the plains had given way to a large blue space—the sea. Cid tried—oh, he tried—to keep the plane steady as it swerved downward. Aerith screamed as it hit the water; she was nearly thrown off her seat, and the air was knocked out of her lungs as her harness yanked her backward.

It took a long moment for her heart to finally slow down afterwards. By Gaia, but Aerith could not stop trembling. She was alive. She was alive. It felt like a miracle; the Planet watching over her wayward children as her mother always said. A nervous giggle escaped her mouth, and she shared a look with Tifa, who had her arms wrapped around a shaking Yuffie. Tifa mirrored her awkward smile, chuckling as well.

With another swear, Cid jumped out of his chair, rushing outside the plane. A fresh breeze tickled Aerith's nose, filled with the salty smell of the sea. As Cid no doubt began to inspect the damage they had sustained, Vincent muttered, "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

"No shit!" Barret growled.

"Ugh, now I'm gonna be seasick," Yuffie said, looking green around the gills. Tifa patted her back in a comforting manner.

After an awkward silence, Cid finally came back inside. His face was stormy, eyes flashing like thunder. "Well, we're dead in the water. She won't fly again, that's fer sure."

"Can it float?" Cloud asked, undeterred.

The Captain all but ignored him. "So," he drawled, voice dripping with cold anger, "anyone wanna tell me what's this all about, stealing a poor man's pride and joy jus' for shits an' giggles?"

"That fat man from Shinra was about to take it!" Yuffie countered. "We were trying to stop him!"

"S'that so?" said the Captain, quirking a brow. His gaze lingered on Cloud and Barret for a moment. He rolled his eyes and groaned, passing one gloved hand over his face. "Goddammit, yer these Avalanche chucklefucks, aintcha?" As no one answered, he muttered, "Well, fuck me sideways…"

"Palmer went into your home," Aerith blurted out, "he stole the ignition keys, he threatened Shera at gunpoint—"

"Bastard did what?" Cid exploded at these last words, blue eyes flashing. "Shit brained, good-for-nuthin', fat pisspot—"

"Focus," said Cloud, interrupting his tirade. "The plane won't fly, but can we use it in the water instead?"

The Captain looked at Cloud as if he'd grown two heads. "You'd use my baby as a fuckin' boat?"

To his credit, Cloud did not flinch. He crossed his arms, meeting that glare head-on. "It's floating right now, isn't it?"

Cid let out another series of curses. Aerith had grown in the slums, yet she found herself blinking in shock (and awe) at his colourful language. Her mother would have threatened to wash the man's mouth with soap if she'd heard him. The thought made me pine for home a little bit. Elmyra would have known how to deal with him, she was sure of it.

"So?" Cloud continued. "What are you gonna do?"

"Whatever!" the Captain said, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm through with Shinra, and the town—well, they won't miss me, that's fer sure!" That last part was punctuated with an ugly laugh.

"What about your wife?" said Tifa. "Shera?"

The Captain grimaced. "Wife? Don't make me laugh! Just thinkin' 'bout marryin' her gives me the chills."

Tifa looked like she wanted to give him one of her patented right hooks for good measure. Aerith herself gaped at him in indignation on poor Shera's behalf. "That's a nasty thing to say!" she cried, earning herself a snort from the man.

"We'll pay if you ferry us around," Cloud said. "Who cares if it's by air or sea? We just need to cross the continent, that's all."

"Why d'ya need transport for, anyway?"

"We're going after a man named Sephiroth," answered Cloud, while Barret added, "And we want to bust some Shinra heads too. Of the presidential kind, most preferably."

"Sephiroth?" said the Captain. "The hell you've all been smokin'? Joker's been dead for years, everyone and their mom know that."

"He's not dead," Cloud said. Once more, that eerie intensity—the one that frightened Aerith so much—shone in his Mako-enhanced eyes. "And he's trouble, big trouble. We need to find him—and put an end to what he's planning—before things all go to hell."

Cid rubbed his stubbled chin. "Yeah, not convinced. Sounds like you're bullshitting me something fierce." Suddenly, a wide—but joyless—grin spread on his face. "But, hell, you lot are going against Shinra. Sign me up! I'm always up for a lil' mayhem—and these greedy fuckers deserve it!"

"How about it, everyone?" Cloud asked, turning toward the rest of the group.

Tifa remained silent, but it was clear from the coldness of her gaze that she did not agree with the proposition. Yuffie grimaced, saying, "Really? That old fart?" In response, Cid barked, "Watch it, brat!"

Finally, Barret sighed and said, "Seems to me we don't have much choice."

"We do need to get out of here, yes," Cait added, "and he's the one with the floating plane, so…"

"Right!" Cid said, grinning and clapping his hands. "Glad to be aboard, numbskulls!"