All for the Love of Chaos

Chapter 3

This was one of the last places anyone wanted to be. The Sovereign Peace Mental Institution. "Mental Institution," what a notoriously fake word, synonymous with "The Loony Bin" or "The Funny Farm." It just sounded better and more official to people with friends or relatives that they wanted to drop off and never see again, then act as if though they had never existed. The waiting room of the hospital was cold and sterile, from the long outdated magazines to the drab décor. It stank of medication. A wall mounted television yammered at a monotone frequency on the constant topic of the upcoming election.

An equally bland receptionist that greatly resembled a walnut with fine reddish hair sat at the desk, gazing warily at a man that had flopped down into one of the stiff plastic chairs across the room. She glared even more disapprovingly as he propped his boots, muddy of course, on the coffee table. Yet, there was nothing she felt she could do.

Heroes were always allowed a little leeway.

She sighed, grumbling to herself about how he had at least quit smoking. She resumed paper pushing as Cid Highwind let an aggravated sigh escape, running a weathered hand though his ash blond hair that had turned misty silver at his temples. He was older, yes, but didn’t look a day over forty. The pilot was in sound shape and good health. He wasn't as agile anymore, but could still fight with the best of them, though he would have to kindly decline anymore quests to save the world.

It was funny, really, when he thought about it. If your faction looses, you're branded in history as a terrorist or a heretic. If you win, you're a patriot. And the miss-matched group of oddballs that had become international heroes no better proved that theory. That had been twenty years ago. Now, most of Sephiroth's vanquishers lived comfortable and peaceful lives.

Tifa had finally given up on Cloud. It was the sad truth that he had loved Aeris, and probably still did. It pained her greatly to think that she was only his second choice. The love never happened. They had been friends for the longest time, yet the ties had weakened considerably. Tifa took it hard, and mostly kept to herself for a while, pouring her heart and soul into a new bar that she had set up in Nibelheim. For about a year she was lost, distant, it was a sad thing to see someone formally so cheerful and optimistic hardened into some sort of machine. Then, seemingly out of the blue, Rude of the Turks began to visit her bar regularly. Of course, they had been on the opposite sides of the battle, but some part of her never really hated the man. He wasn't such a bad guy, after all. Rude got up the courage to ask her on a date and the results were two rug rats and a happy marriage.

Barret Wallace had long since returned to the Corel area, repairing the shantytown and rebuilt the coalmines. However, it was not coal he found--but diamonds, an entire vein that had lain undiscovered for centuries. Barret soon found himself to be one of the richest men in the world, yet still lived rather modestly in a one-story house (He bore a profound hatred for stairs for reasons that the pilot could not fathom) in the center of the bustling New Corel. Cid had laughed till he near pissed himself when he discovered that a widening bald spot had been the Barret's reason for shaving off his hair. Marlene had grown up to become a very attractive and vibrant woman. She had long since found her passion for bar tending--being that she had been baby-sat by Tifa when she was young. She had her own bar as well, though he couldn't recall where. Probably in Midgar.

Nanaki--or simply Red as his friends called him--had recently (finally) come of age and took his place as the sworn protector and leader of Cosmo Canyon. He focused on education of the planet, much as his grandfather had done, so that, hopefully, the Planet would never be threatened again. He frequently made trips to the Forgotten Capital to study the ancient texts and scrolls left behind. Remarkably, with his broad understanding, logic, and comprehension skills he was able to translate a little of the Cetra language. Albeit a small portion, but it was no small feat.

Yuffie had returned to Wutai shortly after the near destruction of the Planet only to find that her father had arranged a marriage between herself and one of the most prominent lords of the land. Shortly thereafter, Godo died, leaving the lord with absolute rule over Wutai. The people, though, held no love for this short, cowardly man. Instead, they turned to Yuffie, who, like everyone in Avalanche, was a hero. They overthrew him and declared Yuffie the Empress of Wutai. Determined to make Wutai a prosperous nation once more, her focus turned to science and electronics. Wutai had since become the technological capital of the world.

The Confederate Alliance had been reinstated. Each region or city acted as it's own confederate state, with the central government in Midgar. This had been set up quite some time ago, but was useless when one considered that the Shinra Corp. owned quite nearly everything. With both presidents of the company dead with no legitimate relatives (Scarlet and Heidegger presumably killed when their monstrosity the Proud Clod had blown up, Palmer killed by a lost Shinra 8-wheeler passing though the Highwind yard); Reeve Marnakovis had inherited the company's assets.

Whereas most would have just continued the Shinra's rein, he had either given away the property or sold it with most the proceeds going to the reconstruction of the cities--Mideel and Midgar and aided the construction of New Corel. The rest went to research to find an alternative source of power that wouldn't endanger the planet. Solar and wind propulsion energy had been the immediate solution and now large black panels and windmills had been erected at higher and the more arid regions. Nuclear research was underway, though the thought of using the technology for weapons hadn‘t crossed anyone‘s mind. These actions could hardly be overlooked. Reeve found himself not only the President of the newfound electric company, but nominated to be the most powerful man on the Planet.

Cid couldn't speak for Vincent, though. A real enigma he was. He had simply melted into the shadows soon after the destruction of Meteor. Poof, gone. No one had heard from him in nearly twenty years. Most people doubted the gunslinger's existence or participation in the whole ordeal. After all, anyone that had come close to catch a glimpse of the man had met the business end of his gun. Cid was really sorry that he wasn't around anymore.

Somehow...somehow the two clicked. Cid had never judged him for his odd behavior. Cid was extremely perceptive. He always seemed to know what was troubling the stoic, dark man, nearly to the point where it had become second nature (though he did call him a 'Vamp' the first day they met, which he had found most unwelcome). And the ex-Turk had found the pilot comforting in the fact that he was the most reliable and down-to-earth-honest person in the group. Long into the night while the others were sleeping below deck, he would confide in Cid (who was usually tweaking with the Highwind and slept uneasily most nights anyway), from his minor troubles to the things that had altered him--mentally and physically--beyond repair. Cid had known far in advance about Vincent's lost love and mutilation when the others had discovered the cave behind the waterfall--and that had added a whole lot more to talk about it.

And Cloud...

Cloud.

Cloud was the reason why he was here.

"Mr. Highwind?"

Cid nearly jumped out of his seat; he had been too busy having a little flashback to notice that one of the nurses was standing right in front of him. He glowered a little; Cid hadn't busted his ass for five years in the air force just to be called 'mister.' But he dismissed it for the moment.

"Yeah?" he barked gruffly.

"Umm, you can see him now." She answered rather meekly, fearing that she had stirred the captain's legendary temper.

"'Bout time..." He grumbled, getting to his feet and walking past the nurse down the long hallway. He had been there enough times to know where he was going; too many times. The rubber heels of his boots made a soft click as he walked down the linoleum path. He tried to concentrate on the sound of those boots, trying to pretend that he didn't notice that somewhere in the building, someone had raised a blood-curdling scream. He cursed inwardly and quickened his pace, the nurse trotting along behind him.

They emerged into a quieter wing of the hospital and reached a door at the far end. Cid was just about to open the door when the nurse interrupted him.

"Sir?"

He turned to face her and, relieved, she had found none of the annoyance she had witnessed earlier. His eyes were soft, questioning.

"He...he hasn't been doing well..." She said quietly. The pilot's brows dipped slightly, wordlessly urging her to continue. The nurse sighed and shook her head. "He's not recovering like we hoped he would."

Again Cid said nothing. No words were needed. His expressive blue eyes and his face, marred by frown lines and crow's feet, had become slightly slack and spoke for him. She stepped aside, allowing him to open the door and go in first.

Cid was rewarded with a poor sight. There, lying on a hospital bed among an arrangement of equipment, was Cid's former comrade, leader, and friend. Cloud Strife. Various monitors displayed his brain activity and heart rate, both of which were very sluggish. A respirator had been set up, the mask over his face, breathing for him. There were IV butterflies on both of his pale, thin, wasted arms. His once proud, wild shocks of blond hair were matted and dirty. His eyes which had glowed in the past didn't hold a candle to the fiery blue intensity now, though it was clear that there was no one behind those eyes; sunken in deeply and accompanied by gaunt, hallow cheeks. They stared unblinkingly at the wall ahead of them though did not actually see it. He didn't respond, didn't twitch. The only sign that his body was still among the living was the slow rise and fall of his chest and the slow beep and hisses emitted by the machines--though it seemed that his mind had long since passed on.

Cid couldn't stand to see him like this anymore. He turned around, resting his head against the white wall and drawing in a slow, rattling breath.

"...I'm sorry..." The nurse said, near whispering. "He's in the final stages. His body is rejecting the mako. There's nothing more we can do for him now besides..."

Pull the plug. His shoulders shook uncontrollably. "How long?" he asked quietly, but deathly afraid of the answer.

"It's impossible to tell. He could last as long as six months...or in a space of one. I'm so sorry, Mr. Highwind. I know he meant a good deal to you."

Meant. She didn't say 'means'. Meant. That was the only word he had heard her say.

Something flashed in his mind for an instant. The man who had seemed to infect everyone he touched. Cloud. Vincent. Sephiroth. Lucrecia. Aeris and her mother. The Soldier named Zack. The disfigured humans that had been the Nibel reactor. No one could possibly know how many people he had tortured and needlessly killed just because he had a little itch to twist and toy with nature--to play God. Cid was sorry that they had killed him high atop that cannon.

He had listened intently to Vincent as he retold the events of thirty years prior as the stars overhead played silent witnesses to the anger and sorrow burning in his mako-enhanced eyes. He had watched Cloud as his mind and body had slowly begun to deteriorate. He had looked with horror at a woman condemned to remain in limbo; her spirit never able to return to whence it came. He had seen that silver blade of hell bite into the body of the innocent and pure young woman who had saved them all. He had been there to see Hojo's remains to slip though the grates and pipes. The pilot wished they had taken the sonuvabitch alive, just so they could make his death that much more painful.

Cid winced in pain when he realized that his hands were hurting. Blood from his palms seeped though his clenched fists.

***

It was a blissfully clear night. One could see for miles and clouds or fog would not hinder the view. The stars glittered coldly above him, like millions of tinny holes poked though black velvet so that the light could shine though. The moon was a full, bright pearl of light hung suspended among them, far surpassing their beauty and brilliance. Emerald grasses, darkened in the night, swayed gently with the breeze below him. Charlie didn't think that there could be any more beautiful sight.

That is, if he didn't know the woman beside him.

Kay had curled up in the copilot's chair not long after they left Junon and had slept soundly for the last few hours. She had obviously been exhausted, even before she had left Midgar, yet had been ready and willing to hop into the pilot's seat and take control while he had rested, much as she was doing now. She worked hard.

He reached over and tenderly pushed a few strands of silky blond hair behind her ear. The combination of moonlight and the soft blue glow of the monitors gently lit her serene face. Kay smiled slightly in her well-earned rest, leaning slightly into the hand that he had left on her smooth, warm cheek. She was beautiful, strong, and intelligent yet she acted as if though she didn't know it. It puzzled him that no one had claimed her. And, with her unbreakable spirit and fiery nature, it seemed likely that no one ever would.

He did love her, even though he would never admit it. She meant too much to him. She was an unpolished gem among paving stones; rough around the edges, but compassionate in her own right. For every foul word she uttered, a kind gesture made up for it. When she said something, blunt as it may be, she meant it. There was no guesswork involved. He trusted her with his life every day, and she did the same. There was no one he'd rather have at his side.

Go on to Chapter 4