Loveless

I don’t own anything FFVII. Wish I did.


1 Loveless

Loveless is still popular here in Midgar, thought Cid, as he tugged at his collar. Good grief, it’s been running since Hector was a baby! If the original cast were still on stage, they’d all be fucking eighty! He glanced at the marquee with amazement. Maybe I’ll check it out before I leave town.

He tugged at the tie around his neck again. Goddamned thing. He hated ties. Well, it was a necessary evil, he supposed. He needed to look presentable for his interview at Shin-Ra. If he got that job, he would be doing the one thing that gave him joy, he’d be doing it on a regular basis, and he’d get paid for it. And maybe…just maybe, he’d go further than he dared dream…

Space. The one thing that captivated him since he was a child…no one had ever made it to the black reaches of space. Not yet. He would be the first man in space. He knew it in his heart, but to do that, he would have to successfully ace his interview at the Shin-Ra Corporation. They had a fledgling space program, and he intended to be a part of it. If that meant flying across Gaia delivering mail, then so be it.

Cid made his way down the congested avenue to the giant conglomerate’s building. He goggled at the structure comically. It was huge, some seventy or so stories. After a moment of admiring the building, Cid strode purposefully into the Shin-Ra Corporate Headquarters.

The courtesy desk housed a pretty blonde with a kind smile. “How can I help you?”

Shocked into momentary good manners by the secretary’s five-hundred gil designer suit and her kind face, he stuttered, “U-uh…Palmer, please. Um…ma’am.”

She raised an arched brow at Cid. “You know, Mr. Palmer appreciates punctuality.”

Crap…late! “I…I’m sorry…”

Now both eyebrows touched the secretary’s hairline. “For being early?”

Cid was nonplussed. “Um…uhh…”

The secretary laughed a bit. “Not to worry…I’m only joshing you. Loosen up a bit. Your interview will go better that way.” She leaned close to an intercom and pressed the button. “Mr. Palmer, your 9:30 is here to see you.”

The tinny response from the intercom was jovial. “Ah, wonderful! Send Mr. Highwind in! Oh, and can I get some tea, please? Go heavy on the lard this morning.”

Cid made a disgusted face, blinked at the blonde, and was even more surprised when she winked at him, and said, “Good luck, kid. You’ll do fine.”

“Er…ah, thanks.” He followed her directing finger down the hall to Palmer’s office. He stopped at his door and ran his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair. When he was groomed to his satisfaction, he knocked on the door.

The jovial voice he heard over the intercom boomed through the heavy wooden door. It had lost none of its previous jocularity. “Come on in, son! Don’t stand on ceremony!”

O-O-O-O-O

“Well,” said Palmer, nearing the end of the interview, “your references are sterling, Mr. Highwind. You have a decent track record with your previous employers…you’ve been flying for a while, I suppose.”

“I learned real early,” replied Cid. “My Gramps was an airship captain, and he taught me all he knew. I’m the best pilot you’ll ever find.”

Palmer grunted. “You’re also the youngest pilot I’ve interviewed. I’m not sure if it’s in the best interests of the Shin-Ra Corporation to hire a test pilot that’s only nineteen.”

“Well, why not?” Cid wasn’t going to give up now, not when space was a hairsbreadth away. “You’re not gonna find anyone better than me. I can do anything. And I want to prove myself…I wanna put myself in for the Space Program.”

Palmer blinked at this bold statement, then laughed uproariously. “I have to admit it to you, Highwind, you have balls.” He peered at Cid, grinning slightly. “I’ll tell you, I think you are the best candidate for the job. And as for the Space Program…you’re talking to the right man. I’m in charge of that.”

Cid grinned inwardly…of course he knew that. It was a calculated risk to tell Palmer that he wanted in on the Program. One that he believed was worth taking, judging by the look on Palmer’s face. Outwardly, he tilted his head to one side, pursed his lips, and nodded. “Okay. Am I in?”

Palmer narrowed his eyes at Cid, thought for a moment, then stood up, hand extended. “Welcome to the Company, Mr. Highwind.”

Cid grinned widely, and shook the proffered hand. “Good to be aboard. Ya won’t regret yer decision, Mr. Palmer.”

“Just Palmer…okay, kid?” He motioned for Cid to sit down again, which he did. “I have some definite plans for you…we have a lot on our plate right now. We’re readying our engineers to develop a decent Airship, but so far no one has come up with a viable schematic. I’m going to need your help with a few of them. How much do you know about airship schematics?”

“I know just about everything,” said Cid with a shrug. He did, too. “What’s wrong with the engineers? Why can’t they come up with something?”

“I’ll tell you…there really hasn’t been anyone in a long time that has as much knowledge as you do about Airships. Frankly, you’re a godsend. Ah, here’s the young lady that will be your assistant. Shera, come in, please.”

A young woman hovered at Palmer’s open office door. When Palmer called her, she jumped slightly, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and scurried in.

Cid’s belly froze solid. He had never seen such a beautiful girl—and a girl was what she was; if she was over eighteen, he’s eat the candles off her last birthday cake. She wasn’t really gorgeous, but striking…she had a wealth of chestnut hair that cascaded down her back. Her crown-hair was pulled back in a topknot, but otherwise, her glorious hair swung free. The one other thing that made her so exotic-looking were her eyes—cat’s eyes, some greenish-gold combination that anyone else less inspired would have just considered hazel.

She looked at Cid, and cocked her head slightly to the right. She blinked once, curiously, and smiled slowly at him. “Hi. I’m Shera. You’ve got to be Cid. We’ll be working together.”

For the second time that morning, Cid was shocked into silence. He stammered and sputtered a moment, then found his voice. “Uh…hi. Nice to meetcha.”

Shera grinned again, then turned to Palmer. She handed him a sheaf of paperwork, with her perfectly manicured left hand. No ring, either. “Mr. Palmer, here are my ideas for the Airship. I’ve modified the engine schematic…if we link two of the air cooled 8-13s’s together, we can get the use of forty eight cylinders.”

Cid raised his eyebrows slightly. Not too shabby, he thought. Something I might’ve done…

He held his hand out for the paperwork. “Can I see that?”

Palmer shrugged and handed them over. Cid nodded over it for a moment, then cocked his head at Shera. “ Good thinking, but why stop there? If ya link four of the 8-13s’s together, we’ll get 96 cylinders, plus one propeller can use two bases. Win-win. Not to mention, we’ll get better horsepower output with the air cooled model link-up, and it won’t be Mako-powered.”

Palmer laughed aloud, but there was an edge to his voice. “And what’s wrong with Mako energy, Highwind?”

“Nothing, Palmer,” said Cid in a hurry; he was very fast on his feet. “Mako is a finite energy source. Air isn’t. I’m just looking out for the interests of the company.”

Palmer laughed again, at ease. “Fine. I’ll need you both to get on that starting Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” And with that, he stood up and offered his hand to Cid. Just like that, interview over.

Cid and Shera shared small talk and an elevator down to the lobby. Shera glanced at Cid through the corner of her eye. “That Palmer…” she began.

Cid favored her with a lopsided grin. He knew what was coming. “What about ‘im?”

Shera smiled back. “He’s an officious bastard, isn’t he?”

Cid snorted heavily. “That he is, Darlin’.”

In the lobby, Shera bade Cid a good afternoon, and made her way to the lobby doors. He watched her go. When she walked through the vestibule, a small voice inside Cid’s head screamed at him. What the hell are ya doing? Go get her! Ask her to dinner, a movie, anything! Just don’t let her go, stupid!

He never ignored the little voice in his head…it had gotten him out of more than one jam in his life. So he ran.

He ran through the lobby, to the vestibule where Shera had just exited. He passed the smiling secretary, the bewildered Shin-Ra security guards, and a tour group. He stopped suddenly, retraced his steps, approached the blonde secretary, and gave her a buss on the cheek. “Thanks! I got the job. You were right.” With that, he ran back to the vestibule and out the door.

The secretary watched him go, laughed aloud, and said, sotto voce, “Go get her, Tiger."

O-O-O-O-O



Cid ran through the door, and skidded to a halt on the sidewalk. The lane was awash with humanity. Cid ground his teeth. Where the fuck did she go? He glanced to his right and to his left, and suddenly remembered that she was a southpaw. His Gramps always told him that you follow your dominant hand, so he ignored his right-handed preference and turned left.

There she is. Oh, quaint. Shera was at a sidewalk café, nursing a cup of tea, and smiling to herself. She had a smug grin, like his Gran used to have when she got what she wanted.

Cid wasted no time. He walked to her little table, and sat himself. Shera glanced up, started, and laughed, a bit sheepishly. “Hi,” she said.

“Hey. I wanna ask you something, Shera…wanna go with me to see a play, or somethin’? I got one in mind.”

Shera laughed. “Well, I do have a lot to accomplish this weekend. Next time maybe we…”

“C’mon, Shera. Come see Loveless with me. Please?”

Shera twinkled at him. “I never pegged you to be the Loveless type.”

“Well,” said Cid, as he grabbed a biscuit from the basket on the table, “It’s been playing since I was a kid…and I never got to see it. I thought—since I was in Midgar, I might as well catch it while I can.”

“Mmm,” said Shera. This was the most fun she has had since she came to Midgar herself. “And…you want me to go with you…”

Cid began to get impatient with her game. “Yeah! Wanna come with me, now?”

Shera finished her tea, put her cup primly in its saucer, and grinned at Cid. “Okay.”

“O—okay?”

Shera smiled sweetly. “Okay. The matinee is still playing. Shall we?”

Cid was, for a record third time that morning, at a loss for words. He merely nodded, and Shera was enchanted by his icy blue eyes—they were intelligent, and a little frightening…but kind. She never expected cold looking eyes to be so warm. She smiled to herself, and held her hand out to Cid. “Let’s go!”