Loveless

Not mine. Wish it was. Belongs to Squenix. 2. War For the next three years, Cid and his assistant Shera built the Airship Highwind from the ground up. Even though there were plenty of engineers and workers to go around, the Highwind was Cid and Shera’s baby. For reasons that they could not fathom, there was no romance between the two. Aside from that first date (and what a date, Cid passed out fifteen minutes into the play) there was nothing. There was camaraderie, surely, and respect, and a strange breed of affection that neither would admit to. Oh, there was the occasional messing around—what self-respecting guy wouldn’t mess around with his assistant? —But that was early on. Now, there were schematics and engine muck and oil spills and the raucous laughter of his crewmates…and playing counterpoint, the trilling, bell-like laughter that he had come to look forward to every day. But—here was the day of the launch ceremony, and here was Shera, laughing and brandishing a magnum of champagne at the Highwind. She was smiling, her beautiful greenish-gold eyes smiling—for me, that’s for me, Cid thought. And where did this change of heart come from? Was it the fact that she had her own key to his tiny flat? Was it the good-natured times they shared in private three years ago? Well, maybe—but was it, maybe, that one of his crewmates had come-on to her last week? And was Cid jealous? You bet your bippy. Raging jealous. But still… Still—that smile, her laughter, and her twinkling eyes—it was for him today. He looked at Shera again, and his heart skipped a beat. All mine, he thought. MINE. O-O-O-O-O After the ceremony, they waited for the crowds to disperse, then walked up the gangplank to the Highwind’s bridge. Shera rested her hands on the great steering wheel, and sighed. “That’s it…we’re done. Now what?” Cid smiled tiredly. “I just got finished talking to Palmer. It looks like the Space Program is a go.” Shera’s head whipped about, and she gasped. “Really? Oh, Captain, that’s wonderful!” Cid liked the way that sounded, coming from Shera. His swearing-in ceremony was last week, and he had heard his new title about a thousand times since then…but coming from Shera, it was like music. He rested his elbow on the steering column, and dumped his head in his palm. He grinned at Shera. “Ya gonna call me that from now on? ‘Cause I’m not ready to permanently change my name to Captain.” She snickered, and punched him on the shoulder. “Right. I’m not sure why they swore you in, in the first place. Why couldn’t just leave you as a pilot and be done with it?” “Got me.” Cid shrugged, and just as nonchalantly wrapped his arms around Shera’s shoulders. He dropped his cheek on her crown, and sighed. “Thanks, Shera. You made this easy. I couldn’tve done this without ya.” Shera shivered minutely, pleased by his praise. While the ship was under construction, he had gone the other route: screaming, ranting, and once he had made her cry—in front of the rest of the crew, no less! Lately, though, he had been his usual warm self. It was the completion of the Highwind that did it, and now…the good news about the Space Program calmed him further. She looked him over critically. Physically, he hadn’t changed much. He was a rawboned twenty two year old man that leaned too far to the gaunt side, like he always had. He had taken to wearing his flight gear all the time—something that Shera didn’t mind, as she thought he looked rakish and dashing in his scarf and those silly aviator’s goggles perched on his forehead. At least it tamed the mop on his head. “You haven’t been eating, have you?” Shera shook her head at how pronounced his ribs were. “Aw, c’mon, Shera—no time to stop lately. Yer just the same!” She shook her head, and changed the subject. “What’s next? We got the Space Program, sure, but where does that leave me? You’re a part of it because you’re President Shin-Ra and Palmer’s pet test pilot. But…what about me?” “We gotta build the fucker first, don’t we, before they launch me into outer space?” Cid frowned at her. “Why would I get any other engineer to work on this project? Ain’t ya the best there is? Gods, Shera, sometimes you can be such a dunderhead.” Such were the backhanded comments Cid threw at her occasionally. She learned to ignore them over the years. “All right,” she said, before he leaned close and kissed her. This time, it wasn’t a minute shiver; a thrill raced down her spine, tingled down her legs, and flew back up her body to nestle somewhere between her shoulder blades. He had taken off his leather gauntlets before their interlude, and his bare fingers gently caressed her cheek. Shera felt her body melt against his, and he caught her in his arms. She was granted the mere hint of the whiskey he had drunk at the party, before the bitter tang of his cigarettes took over. Shera could deal with the smell of tobacco—it reminded her of her father, and of the pipe he would smoke—but the alcohol was a new and more sinister addition to the list of vices Cid had. All this flitted through Shera’s head the moment before she wrapped her slight arms around his waist; before he grinned at her roguishly, and bent his head again to hers. O-O-O-O-O When the lease was up on Shera’s flat, she moved in with Cid. What the hell, she already had a key, and half of her stuff was there to boot. The best part was the Corporation didn’t seem to mind too much. In fact, Palmer had presented them with a housewarming gift, and President Shin-Ra himself had given his congratulations in person. Life was beautiful…their days were full of the new rocket they were commissioned to build by the Corp., and their nights were sweet. Sometimes passionate, sometimes tender—he made love to her in their bed. Sometimes, Cid was so overwhelmed by sensation and feeling that it was all he could do but whisper Shera’s name over and over into her ear as he came into her. He felt for the first time in his life that there was meaning to his existence. As a bonus, Cid laid off the sauce when she moved in. After a few months of living together, news of an impending war in a faraway land called Wutai began filtering into their neck of the woods. First a trickle, then a flood of confused, frightening information was available for perusal on the television. Some of the families in their area had already reported that their sons and daughters were being called to fulfill their duties as citizens. World domination. Wutai wanted world domination, the newscasters said. Cid and Shera watched the news regularly, watched as the news worsened. There they would sit, side by side on their ratty sofa, hands linked, twin expressions of worry and doubt on their countenances. Then, one day, the news that Shera had been dreading had come. “Shera! Mail here yet?” Cid was expecting next month’s fiscal report, in regards to their budget. He was getting antsy—they all were—to finish the rocket, but a sinister rumour went about, and it stated that the rocket was being built for war. Even Cid wasn’t sure if the rumour was true or not. “Yeah! Cid, the mail is on the kitchen table!” “Right.” He clomped into the kitchen, and was silent for a long while. Then… “SHERAAAA!” Shera flew into the kitchen, and was shocked by Cid’s stunned, frightened stare. He held a small sheaf of papers in his hand. He looked up at Shera after a spell, and said the words that Shera had so dreaded. “Holy shit…I’ve been fuckin’ drafted!” O-O-O-O-O Shera heard this news, and thumped heavily onto a kitchen chair. Over, it’s all over, she thought. He’s going to die. What now? “So,” she said, her voice shaking, “this is why they swore you in.” Cid nodded slowly. “Probably. Makes sense, don’t it?” He clenched his fists convulsively, crushing the paperwork between his fingers. He echoed Shera’s thoughts aloud. “God damn it all! What the fuck happens now?” Shera sighed heavily, and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know. When do you ship out?” Cid checked the date on the now-ruined paper. He laughed shakily. “Christ…the post is really fuckin’ slow ‘round here.” Shera’s heart sank. “When, Cid?” “Tomorrow.” “Oh, my God. I…” Shera lost the rest of her words and burst into tears. Deep down, Cid was looking forward to being shipped out. He looked forward to showing those Wutai scum just who the fuck they were messing with. Better still, his marching orders involved his piloting paratrooper units over Wutai, and probably becoming a paratrooper himself. He was excited. He also felt like vomiting. From about twenty million light years away, he heard Shera keening. His warm heart felt pity for Shera, and he crossed the tiny, sun-dappled kitchen to wrap his arms around her. O-O-O-O-O That last night together was fraught with promises made in the dark, and comfort was given and received. Do you promise to be careful? …Yeah, ‘course I will. Promise to write to me? Yes, as much as I can. Do me a favor… Yeah? Cid, please don’t forget that Lady Luck is holding your hand. I won’t. Shera? Yes? I…um, I… Cid…what is it? Ahh…nothin’. C’mere. Heh heh…why so affectionate all of a sudden? Just…ah, I dunno…I worry, because I won’t be here with ya. I’ll be all right, Cid. Love you. Yeah, me too.