Genesis of Sky

Section 3

Cait was finished painting his claws, finished pretending he was at a slumber party. James had fallen asleep, and his Mog was also breathing heavily. So the feline slowly capped the nail polish and set it aside, having enjoyed himself and his game, even if James hadn’t played along.

Now he watched quietly, wondering about the ghost. He realized he had not seen any of the rest of the house, so without a hint of reservation, he promptly stood and began exploring. The first place he went was the last place anyone would want him: the master bedroom.

Padding through the house on silent cat feet, Cait Sith peeked in every crevice and pulled out every drawer he passed on his way. He saw junk, and papers; if it hadn’t been dark and if he hadn’t wanted to see the ghost so much, he would have stopped to read them.

He reached the master bedroom door and opened it, slipping inside like a thief. Walking around, he nosed through James’ closet, riffled through his sock drawer, and poked around in everything. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom contained aspirin, some headache medicine, and sleeping pills. Cait thought James probably did have trouble sleeping, thinking a ghost of his son was out to kill him.

As he made his way around the room, Cait stopped at a bookcase. There were many books, mostly on mechanics and different types of technology. There were a few on business and negotiation. On a shelf amid the books sat a few framed photographs. Cait pulled one down; it was of a much younger James and his bride on their wedding day. Another picture showed James and his wife with their infant son. A third was a portrait of his wife, a blonde woman with a familiar grin. He looked at the rest of the photographs, finding many of James and his wife, but no more of their child.

Just as he replaced the last frame, Cait heard a very faint, sad groan coming from outside the room. He quickly slipped out, whiskers quivering. Following the sound, he arrived at door, probably to another bedroom. He tried the knob, but it was locked.

Undaunted, Cait extended a claw and jimmied open the lock. He cracked open the door, excited but stealthy. Then he stepped inside.

Cait Sith was greeted by a room unoccupied for years. The carpet was dusty and the room smelled of disuse. He heard another forlorn sigh come from the bed across from the door, so he cautiously stepped toward it.

He peeked over the edge, not sure what to expect but tingling with anticipation. This must be the ghost; what else could it be? Then he saw it...its hand at least. Bound to the headboard by a handcuff.

Narrowing his eyes, Cait hopped up on the bed to get a closer look. It may have been a ghost, but it looked like a human, probably a teen. Both its hands were bound over its head, and both were bleeding from the wrists. Without realizing it, Cait’s hackles began to rise. What ever he had been expecting...what ever it was, it hadn’t been a scene like this.

The ghost whimpered faintly, drawing Cait’s attention to its face. For a moment all he could think was how like his mother he looked. Then the ghost turned its blue Wutaian eyes on Cait, and he realized with a start why James’ wife had such a familiar smile. He was frozen in place for an instant. It wasn’t! It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be Cid Highwind, could it?!

Then the ghost hissed, turning to glare at the cat, the voice like dark wind through dark jaws, and Cait screeched and bolted, running out of the room as fast as he could. His tail was as thick as a man’s leg, his eyes wide and ears pressed to his skull.

He ran to James and clawed his way up to his face. James awoke, startled and hurt. "What’s the matter?" he asked.

Cait stared slack jawed at the man for a long time. "You...he...he...!! You didn’t tell me it was CID!"

James stammered slightly. Cait leapt from his chest and bolted around, slapping on every light switch he could find. While the cat ran, James murmured, "His name was Cid...Cid McKenzie."

Cait skidded to a halt and stared at the older man. "What? His name is Highwind!"

Going white, James suddenly chilled at the mention of that name. But before he could say anything, the door to the unused bedroom closed with an ominous click.

Then there was a ghost in the living room, brandishing an old wrought iron poker in its left hand.

James fainted in fear and shock, while Cait tossed himself through a window, shattering it. Then he ran and ran, with Mog close behind.

* * *

When he awoke, Cid was faintly surprised to be alive, even more so to be in a hospital room.

I should have died, he thought to himself grimly. He almost wished he had. Then he would never have to return to that house, never have to fear what Jay would do next. Then again, he would never see the sky that way either.

No, he wasn’t dead...he hurt far too much for that to be the case. His head, his hands, everything. Every single ache, every injury, every cut screamed in pain without exception. Groaning, he wished he hadn’t woken up.

"I see you’ve come around," said a slightly accented voice from somewhere nearby. Cid turned his head to face the voice; it belonged to a well-dressed young man in navy blue. His hair was long and jet-black, and he had a little red dot tattooed on his forehead, above his nose.

"Who’re you?" Cid asked slowly, trying to think if he’d seen the man before.

The man stepped over to the side of Cid’s bed, then he looked down at him and replied, "My name is Tseng. I am a Turk."

Cid frowned. He’d heard of the Turks...but couldn’t imagine what a Turk would want with him, especially in the state he was in. "Whatcha here for?"

Tseng smiled slightly. "I have seen your work, and I am very impressed."

"My...work?"

The Turk nodded. "Your schematics, the drafts for the flying machines. Especially for the airship. I’m here to offer you a position in the Shin-Ra Air Force."

Cid blinked a few times. "How...did you find them?"

"Shin-Ra sent a few employees to discover why your father—"

"I don’t have a father," Cid hissed.

Tseng bowed his head slightly. "My apologies. We sought Mr. McKenzie after he hadn’t returned to work for two hours. Shin-Ra cares about the welfare of its employees, so we were concerned. The two Shin-Ra who discovered Mr. McKenzie and yourself alerted the authorities and had you brought here. I went to investigate; I discovered your work then. I do not need to know how you came to be in such a desiccated state, nor do I need to know what drove you to such a high level Limit so early in life. I took the liberty of showing your work to the Aerospace division of Shin-Ra R&D; I have been authorized to make you an offer to join us."

Cid let Tseng’s words settle for a while. So Shin-Ra wanted him bad enough to send a Turk to convince him? It was a strange feeling, knowing that the very company that had sucked Jay dry and forced him to leave Cid for days and weeks at a time, even so much as to be partially responsible for his own brush with death, sent their best operatives to make him an offer.

He gingerly lifted his hands to look at them. His blood was just beginning to soak through the bandages. Then he looked over at Tseng. "This is your fault too, you realize...if Jay hadn’t been so deep in debt to you he...wouldn’t have...," Cid paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "No...he would have anyway...just not this time. What’s your offer? Will I fly?"

Tseng smiled faintly. "Of course. You will be trained to fly. You will work with R&D to refine your designs and build your aircraft. And...you will never see Jay McKenzie again. We will wipe your history clean, and you will be known only as Cid Highwind. No one will know nor ask about the father you don’t have, and he will never touch you again. We will also cancel all of his debt to us and furnish him with some monetary compensation for your death."

"My what?"

"He will never seek you, because we will tell him you died."

Cid looked away for a while, thinking to himself. What an opportunity! It was as if Tseng had handed him his dreams on a silver platter. He would never have to worry about Jay again. He would never live under the plate again...and he would fly.

He turned his gaze back to the Turk and nodded silently, feeling relief wash over him like the wind he so loved. Tseng bowed once, smiling, then left to inform his superiors.

He would fly...

* * *

Shera slept fitfully, worried in her slumber that Cid would wake up hurt again. In her sleep she heard something, and she sat up quickly, realizing it was the PHS. While it rang, she heard Cid muttering next to her, asleep.

She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep in Cid’s bed after one nightmare already. She found herself blushing furiously and scooted away from Cid. She was embarrassed, but very relieved Cid hadn’t woken her up with any new injuries.

It took three more rings of the PHS before Shera remembered why she was awake. She blinked and fumbled for the PHS on the nightstand, and she finally got her hands on it after knocking her glasses onto the floor. Wondering how her glasses had managed to find their way onto the nightstand, she pulled open the PHS and said sleepily, "Hello?"

"H..hey uh, Shera?" the voice on the other end said. Was it Cait Sith? He sounded scared to death.

"Yes, this is Shera," she answered, now fully awake. "What is it?"

"Oh, hey...uh...Cid there?"

"Yeah, he’s sleeping...."

Shera heard Cait clear his throat on the other end of the line. "Well, eh...you know, y’all really need to come to Midgar, uh...really important." His voice was shaking hard.

Shera sounded concerned. "What’s the matter?"

"Gotta little situation here, uh...there’s this...this ghost, see...and this guy, Cid’s dad...well...I really think y’all should come out here...."

"A ghost? Cid’s dad?" Shera looked over at Cid, who appeared to have awakened a few moments ago. When he heard her words, his sleepy expression hardened to flint.

"I don’t have a father," he spit out.

Shera looked at him for a moment, confused, then turned her attention back to the phone. "Cait, are you sure? Cid said he doesn’t have a father."

"He sure ‘nough does, and...and...," Cait said, but Shera interrupted him.

"Cid was pretty insistent," she said, glancing at Cid and seeing a stony anger in his features.

"Ah er...well..y’know, James is pretty insistent too...and I’m kinda inclined ter believe him, ‘cause like I said, there’s this ghost, and if it ain’t a young Cid than I ain’t a magic cat."

Shera gasped. "Are you serious?"

"I am very serious! My fur’s standin’ straight up and I’m scared outta my wits! I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it! And James, he says Cid’s last name’s McKenzie, if you can believe that!" Cait sounded like he was calming down some, and said the last in an almost joking manner.

But Shera stiffened and felt all the blood drain from her face. JMCKENZIE...James McKenzie.... Cid looked up at her and his expression softened. He asked, "What’sa matter, Shera?"

She looked back and said in a soft, terrified voice, "We have to go to Midgar."

Cid sat up and frowned deeply. "We what? Why?"

"Cait says he found a ghost— "

"So?! Midgar is full of ghosts." Cid plainly detested the idea of going to Midgar.

Shera huffed. "Let me finish! He said it was a ghost of you, a younger you!"

"That’s right," Cait added, obviously hearing at least Shera’s end of the conversation. "The ghost looked ter be about 17 or so."

"Cait says the ghost looked to be about 17 years old."

Cid looked surprised, but there was a sudden darkness in his eyes Shera was unaccustomed to. There was an almost a morbid humor in it, but very cold. "I don’t guess Tseng could have conjured up something like that," he said half to himself.

"Tseng?" Shera asked. "What do you mean?"

"Whazzis about Tseng?" Cait asked when he heard Shera speak.

"Quiet for a second Cait!"

But Cid didn’t answer. Shera could see he thought something rather ironic. "Just a memory," he said finally, his voice making it plain no explanation would be forthcoming. Then he turned away and looked to be thinking about something. "How long has Cait’s ghost been hanging around?"

Shera turned to the PHS, and put it on speakerphone so Cid could hear. "Cait, Cid wants to know how long the ghost has been around."

"I got the report just a coupla days ago. It was a week old then, and it took me about a day to find James here. I’m guessin’ it was fresh when the report was sent, so that makes about a week and a half. James been scared outta his mind...I don’t blame him...but I don’t get it neither. Says he killed his kid in some serious accident and feels bad about it, real bad, been tormentin’ him fer years, and this ghost is his kid come back to kill him, like he thought he did before, ‘to finish the job’ like James said, but I knows that that can’t be right, not now that I seen the ghost, and know who it is. It don’t make any sense."

Shera looked over at Cid, a question in her eyes. The strange darkness had returned to his face, and he said nothing. It was clear however that what Cait said was affecting him deeply.

"Cid, what is it?" she asked, concerned.

Slowly, Cid replied, "Seems to line up to about the time I started having these dreams. I think...we should go."

"Dreams? What’re ya talkin’ about?"

Cid answered, voice sharp and cold, "Strange dreams, Cait. I’m just thinkin’ maybe that ghost of yours might have something to do with it, OK."

"A...arright. OK." Cait sounded a little daunted, and Shera didn’t wonder; Cid sounded as though a good deal of discretion was in order with him right now. He was in a very rare and very dangerous mood.

After a long moment of silence, Cait ventured, "So....yer comin’ then? Soon?"

"Yes," Cid said, his voice almost at a hiss. "We’ll get there ASAP."

Shera could hear the cat gulping. "Oh...OK...um...come to the Sector 2 gate, I’ll...ah...I’ll meet ya there." Then he hung up, at the end sounding almost as scared as he had at the beginning of the conversation.

Shera closed the PHS and looked over at Cid. She contemplated saying something about how bad he had scared Cait Sith, but she could see it would be unwise. She thought to ask about James...obviously a relative of Cid’s, the father he adamantly claimed he didn’t have, from what Cait said. She had a lot of questions about that, but she realized that there must have been some enormous falling out between the two, a near deadly one...one that somehow left Cid with that awful brand on his arm...and that perhaps the best course of action would be to just leave it for now. Somehow she knew she would get more answers than she wanted soon enough. She realized that Cid’s dark mood scared her as well.

Cid stood up and walked to his closet. "We should get going," he said, his voice only slightly softer than before. Shera nodded, and went to get dressed.

* * *

The Highwind flew over the ocean, painted in a thousand colors of the dawn. The sea below glittered with the same spectrum of gold and red and peach. It was sight both humbling and uplifting, staggeringly beautiful. The sun just peeked over the horizon in the east, ahead, while some stars still clung to the pale darkness in the sky to the west.

Cid looked out, across the expanse of sea and back at the stars behind. Often all it took to break him out of dark memories and moods was to see the sky. Really see it, not just look at it, but see it, feel it, inhale it, watch it, and let himself be part of it. Today he really needed to do just that, to calm himself and forget his recent dreams and the words of Cait Sith.

He loved the sky. Everyone knew that. Since the first instant he had laid his eyes on it...even truly breathed it, he had loved it. Maybe that was why he had what some long ago had called starlust. The first things he had seen in the sky were the stars and that had affected him deeply. He would never tire of looking at them. So he watched behind as much as he could, counting stars as they winked out. He tried to forget for a while where he was going, headlong into his darkest memories, to Midgar...not only to Midgar, but to Sector 2, under the plate, to his childhood home. To the place he swore he would never return. And here he was, going back.

He shook his head to break the mood and returned to watch the stars fading in the western sky. Shera stood next to him, but she was watching the dawn. She bore no love for Midgar, but she didn’t hate it. Cid wondered if she had ever been beneath the plate. Probably; the first time he had been under the plate after he had joined Shin-Ra had been brief but required because some of the recruitment offices were there, it stood to reason Shera had been in the same place, a year or two later. He glanced at her briefly, standing next to him; the colors of the dawn lit on her face and glasses. She looked beautiful.

Just then she glanced his way and for some reason he felt silly and looked away. Just out of the corner of his eyes he saw her move a little, away, but just slightly. He frowned, but didn’t catch the mischief in her eyes. Suddenly the Highwind lurched to the side, and Cid, unprepared for the movement stumbled back. Shera stumbled too, bumping into Cid, and he instinctively grabbed her.

He got a face full of her brown ponytail for his trouble (for she was slightly taller than he) but she turned quickly so the side of her face was toward him. She made no motion whatsoever to leave his awkward grasp, instead, she just stood there, shoulder against his chest, with a mysterious expression on her face, almost expectant and half bemused, yet shadowed.

Cid carefully let go, his hands and arm still in pain from the nightmare wounds that really weren’t from a nightmare at all. He was about to lower his hands to his side, but instead he raised his left hand and, following some sudden impulse, set his fingers stiffly on Shera’s ponytail. Something else he had never done...touch her hair with bare hands. He had worn elbow-length leather gloves every day since the first when Tseng had given him a pair when the Turk had shown him around some of the offices and workplaces of Shin-Ra Air Force’s R&D. That was sixteen years ago. The only time he did not wear gloves was when he slept or showered. Today he closed his eyes so he would not see the gauze covering the scars.

Her hair was soft, silky soft, at least to his touch. Maybe to the rest of the world it would be different...the rest of the world used to feeling something other than worn leather beneath their fingertips. Cid smiled to himself, and decided to indulge this little desire, and to recall the wonder of feeling beautiful things for the first time...with the difference that he loved her already. So he ran his hand down her ponytail and thought of nothing but what it felt like.

He didn’t see it, but Shera was smiling.

Lifting his right hand, very carefully, and with the lightest touch, he ran his fingers through the bangs framing Shera’s face. Then he undid the little orange ribbon she used to keep her hair back, to better feel her hair. His touch was light as feathers.

For a little while he slid his fingers through her hair, ignoring everything else. He inhaled the scent as if it were like the living air when he first stepped outside Midgar, holding a tress to his lips.

Then, Shera cleared her throat and said, "Cid."

He was far too involved in feeling her hair to even register that he’d been addressed.

"Cid," she said a little louder.

"Mmmm?" he mumbled, hearing this time but still not exactly responding.

She turned to face him, effectively pulling her hair out of his hands. He looked a little stunned. "What?" he answered finally.

Shera was smiling softly, as if she had been enjoying what he was doing, but there was still a bit of mischief in her eyes. "You’re not being fair."

"Huh?" Cid was confused. Not being fair?

"Well," she said, looking straight into his eyes, "It’s not fair." She pulled the goggles off his head and the cigarettes they held and dropped them lightly on the cabin deck. "I should get to play with your hair too."

Cid blinked at her for a second. Then he glanced behind her and realized that she had touched some controls before, to make the Highwind jerk. "You did that on purpose!"

Shera didn’t answer, instead she started running her hands through Cid’s hair. He closed his eyes again and smiled, realizing what she had done, and remarkably well at that...he wasn’t thinking about what had happened that night, or what was coming up. He chuckled a little and kissed her, returning his hands to her hair.

Then he said, "You are such a sneak."

"Hush. I’m busy," she said smiling, stroking his hair.

Cid thought then that she was too good for words. "I love you, Shera."

"I love you too. Now hush, I’m busy."

Cid laughed at that, then kissed her again.

The full-fledged pilot and crew of the Highwind looked discreetly away as much as they were able.

* * *

When they finally set the Highwind down in the grass near Midgar, Cid was in a considerably better mood. Not to say he was happy. He wasn’t. But his mood was not as dangerous as it had been a few hours ago.

He and Shera held hands as they walked the distance from clean grass to the dead zone that still lay around Midgar. Life slowly crept into the black, dead earth, but it would be a long, long time before it reached the city. Perhaps the flowers that had grown wherever Aeris, the last Cetra, had spent any time, would spread from within and meet the grass outside someday. Cid carried the Venus Gospel on his shoulder, in case they were assaulted by any of the weak monsters that still inhabited the area.

They were fortunate and reached the Sector 2 Gate without incident. The gate lay open; in fact, it looked as though it hadn’t been closed for a long time. Two youngish looking people, a man and a woman, stood guard to keep monsters out. Cait Sith also stood there atop his cave moogle, his tail flicking back and forth. Mog hugged himself as if he were cold and fluttered his wings.

As Cid and Shera approached Cait, his tail almost began lashing, and his ears were pressed tightly to his skull. He bade Mog move forward, and they met the two humans just at the gate entrance.

"Gladja could make it...my skin’s been crawlin’. I hope we can all figger out what ta do ‘bout this ghost...it’s drivin’ James batty," Cait said when they met. Cait for his part did not at all look comfortable. It seemed he hadn’t gotten over the fright Cid gave him on the phone, but he was relieved to see that Cid didn’t look quite ready to skin him or anything. His ears relaxed and his tail movement reduced to a little flick at the tip.

As they turned to go into the city, the guards nodded toward them. Cid narrowed his eyes and looked at Cait, then asked slowly, "I’m here because it seems like this ghost is hurting me pretty bad. I’m not terribly concerned about anything else."

Cait looked down at Cid and blinked. "Look, maybe y’all had yer fallin’ out, but James really feels bad about whatever it is he did, he really does."

Cid stopped short and suddenly grabbed Cait Sith by the throat and yanked him off his moogle. "Cait Sith, did he TELL you what he did that he feels so damned awful about?"

Mog and Shera both stopped and watched, unsure if interrupting this altercation would be wise. At the moment, Cid hadn’t done anything that actually threatened Cait—it is very hard indeed to strangle a robot.

Cait’s ears flicked back again and he cringed. He was about to wrap his hands around Cid’s arm, but noticed for the first time it was covered in bandages. "What happened to ya?" he nearly shouted.

"Let me tell you, you piece of %&#^ cat. This...person...that you say is haunted by my ghost did this to me." Cait looked at him in shock. "That’s right, that %^&$#@^ bastard did this. This is what he feels so bad about."

"B-but James has been here! He couldn’t have gone ter Rocket Town!"

Cid hissed, "I didn’t say he did it today. That’s the ghost’s doin’, while I was sleepin’. But he did do this. Sixteen years ago, your friend," and this word he spit out, "handcuffed me to my damned bed and before he forgot me for FOUR @^&*&#% DAYS like that, he burnt his damn name into my arm." He handed Shera the Venus Gospel and pointed at the long bandage up his right arm. "That’s what this is. A brand. And these," this time he pointed out the bandages on his wrists, "I got some time when I was so %^&*^$% thirsty that I was willing to cut my hands off to get free."

The robot cat’s ears flattened so tightly they probably ached. He looked at Cid with wide eyes. "James did that? Just left ya?" Shera stared at the ground, like she was trying to remember something.

Cid shook Cait. "Yes! He left me! They say a human can live three or four days without water in a desert...wasn’t I just so damned lucky I wasn’t in a $%#@&*& DESERT!"

Cait gulped. He was a robot...but he had been thirsty before, or Reeve had. Then he blinked a few times, looking around, trying in his mind to reconcile the James he knew, the one who felt so bad about an accident that had killed his son, or so he thought, and the James Cid had known, one that would burn letters into his child’s arm and then forget about him for days on end. It wasn’t working; it just didn’t add up.

"I...I don’t get it. He muster changed a lot since then...," Cait said slowly. Then, venturing into dangerous territory, he asked, "Whatcha do to him then? He said you almost killed him too, y’know."

Cid growled. "I Big Brawled him. With the fire place poker he used to brand me."

Suddenly Cait lost all fear and his ears snapped up, quivering in excitement. "That explains it!"

"What?!" Cid shouted, angry. He hadn’t wanted to talk about any of this, and Cait’s demeanor was really rubbing him the wrong way. Shera chewed on a nail, remembering in bits and pieces a story like what Cid had just told...like it was a dream or something similar.

"The ghost! It does that, it chases James around with one o’ them pokey things! And it scared me so bad, I seen it all chained up and lookin’ like it had both feet in the grave...ooo, it scared me, my fur was all on end!"

Cid shuddered suddenly and dropped Cait.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Cait announced from his position between Mog’s ears.

"No $%^& Sherlock," Cid growled. He recognized the house all too well.

"Should we go inside?" Shera suggested meekly. Cid made a rather disgusted face.

"You can if you want...I’m not going in for love or money," Cid said.

"Hower we s’posed to deal with the ghost if you won’t even go see it?" Cait asked, tempting the devil.

"Maybe you two can think of something. I ain’t goin’ in that house."

Cait snorted. "Arright, maybe we can get the ghost to come out here, but I’m thinking still sometime yer gonna have to go in there." He was quick to order Mog forward before Cid could do anything threatening. Not that Cid had any intentions of committing bodily harm to the synthetic cat; after dropping him just inside Midgar, Cid had become more and more silent and subdued...almost depressed. Cid turned to the side and leaned against one of the posts holding up the patio roof, lighting up a cigarette and staring at the ground.

Shera sighed softly, and after patting Cid on the shoulder, she followed Cait up to the door.

Cait knocked on the door, but as soon as he did, the door opened; apparently James had left it unlatched. Cait and Mog shrugged at the same time and the big moogle squeezed through the opening, followed by Shera.

"Hey James! We’re back!" Cait shouted, but there was no answer. "Huh," the cat said, flicking an ear. "He musta lefter somethin’."

"I’m sure he must work," Shera said, looking around the living room. Bits of popcorn lay strewn about, and there was a surprisingly large variety of cosmetics on an end table. Shera looked at Cait.

Cait grinned sheepishly. "It was me. Havin’ a sleep-over at a haunted house, y’know. James ain’t inter that. Strikes me as a bit of a ‘manly man’, wouldn’t even let me give him a manicure, and he’s a businessman it seems, too."

Shera almost laughed. The image of Cait giving someone who probably looked a good deal like Cid a manicure was nearly too much. She wandered into the kitchen; it was neat and tidy, looking a little like it hadn’t been used as much as it should have been. No wonder to her, though; if James really was Cid’s father, he probably was as inept in the kitchen as Cid was...except for making tea. Cid was very good at making tea.

"So, Cait...what do you think we can do about this ghost anyway?" Shera asked, after opening the refrigerator and confirming her thoughts that James didn’t use the kitchen often; it was full of left over take-out.

"Well...I don’t rightly know. But I’m havin’ my suspicions...I’m thinkin’ that what James felt so bad about...if it was as bad as Cid said, Cid might have left a...a...well, a shadow of it here."

Shera frowned deeply as she reentered the living room. "It was as bad as Cid said. You didn’t see the burns on his arm."

Cait’s ears drooped. "I’m sorry ter hear it. James really is a nice guy, if’n you don’t mind much that he’s a bit on the broody side. Reminds me of Vincent in that way."

Shera sniffed. "From what I hear, Vincent didn’t really do anything all that wrong...more like he didn’t do something he should have...sin of omission." Her nose wrinkled and for a second Cait thought she might snarl. "James is stacked to the ceiling with sins of commission."

"And ya’d think no one ever heard of ‘I’m sorry’ before," Cait grumbled under his breath, not intending to be heard, but he was. Nevertheless, Shera said nothing; Cait’s words struck a little close to home. Even so, she didn’t think James had ever apologized to Cid.

Cait started down the hallway, and Shera followed him. "Still, what are we going to do about this ghost?" Shera asked again. "If Cid’s right, and it’s hurting him in his sleep, I’m more than a little worried about what will happen if too much more time passes."

"Hmm. Does seem a little dangerous, don’t it. But I don’t know how the ghost is doin’ all that. I gotsta think about it a bit more...and maybe it’ll be OK still...might not be any fun, but it hasn’t done anything fatal to Cid yet, has it?"

"No," Shera answered slowly. "I suppose if it could...or if it wanted to...Cid would have woke up last time in as bad a shape as he dreamed he was. I guess it couldn’t pull off the whole thing in one night."

Cait snapped his fingers. "That might be it...it might not have the power yet." They stopped opposite the door to Cid’s old room. "This is where the ghost was when I first saw it." As he spoke, Cait’s tail began to bristle, getting bigger and bigger around.

Shera stroked Cait’s tail, trying to calm him down. Cait smiled a little, but couldn’t help flicking the tip of his tail. "I dunno if you wanna go in or not. At least you’ll be prepared, a bit more than I was." Cait shrugged. "Maybe you wouldn’t bolt out like the scardy cat I am...."

"I...I suppose. But what can I do?"

"Talk to it maybe? When I first saw it...I think it was more, well, Cid-like. Then it hissed and got mean. I dunno. I was hoping Cid would come in and talk to it."

She shuddered a little, but placed her hand on the door knob. "I’ll give it a try."

Shera sat down on the nightstand, looking over at the boy chained to the bed, watching him… He wasn’t really asleep, but neither was he totally awake; his dull, sunken eyes stared at the ceiling for the most part, occasionally flicking this way or that, following movement only he could see.

She knew who it was, but had no idea how it could be; he was too young, his face rounded and his shoulders not quite as broad. But it was Cid. He had the same furrows that her Cid had whenever he pulled his eyebrows together, the same thin lips, and the same long nose.

Instinctively, she reached out a hand and stroked his hair and his cheek. No wonder he was delirious…his skin was extremely hot, like a dull fire. He leaned into her hand, like a cat might when it was petted. This small action nearly broke her heart, so she kneeled by the bed and put her other hand on his hair, planting a little kiss on his forehead.

The child-Cid, the phantom, looked at her without seeing her and smiled. He started to say something, but it looked as though it hurt him to try. His lips were blue and cracked and bleeding very sluggishly. Every maternal instinct Shera possessed screamed for her to do something, to take care of him…and it didn’t help at all that she loved him in an older incarnation. But what could she do?

He finally managed to croak out, "I’m Cid….Highwind…..Wh-who are you?" His voice was very soft, less than a whisper, dry and desolate.

The phantom said ‘Highwind’ as if it were a mark of status, something overwhelmingly important to him. She smiled a little and replied, "Shera."

Cid whispered, "I like you, Sh-shera. Can I…talk to…you? C…could you get me some water? …Very thirsty…."

"Of course," Shera answered. She got up and got some water in a small plastic cup. Remembering just a week ago how Cid had dribbled tea in his ears, she set the cup aside and helped this Cid to sit up as much as he could. He appeared very dizzy for a long while, and she hoped moving him hadn’t been a mistake. She almost held his hand, but decided against it, seeing the deep cuts that the cuffs had made. She didn’t want to hurt him.

When Cid appeared to have steadied himself, Shera took the cup and held it to his lips. He gulped it down like a drowning man might air, and when he was done he gasped, "More please, more please" with such desperation that it hurt to hear. She immediately fetched more and let him drink that as well.

After two more such trips, Cid seemed satisfied. Judging from his appearance, that was probably because he was full and not because he was no longer thirsty. It was plain to see he was badly dehydrated and would probably die without medical treatment. Shera was relieved that while she didn’t know the story in full, she at least knew how it ended. She helped him back down, as he looked dizzy again.

When he was again lying down, Cid looked in Shera’s general direction with a wistful expression. "I’m…gonna fly someday, you know."

Shera nodded. "Yeah, you will." She wasn’t sure why the phantom told her this, but she went along with it, since he felt it was important.

He smiled broadly, with the same intensity and determination the real Cid always had. "On my own wings. I’ll fly higher than any bird ever has…leave this…place…and never come back." His smile faltered, slowly falling away. He halfheartedly pulled at the handcuffs, not seeming to feel any pain when the metal touched the bloody cuts on his wrists.

Shera sighed, his motions like a knife in her gut. "I wish there was something I could do for you," she whispered, mostly to herself. But this Cid was a part of the past; nothing done today could change it. When she turned her attention back to the phantom, she frowned slightly at what she saw.

He had changed, in almost imperceptible ways; blue eyes focused now, ice cold, faintly sinister…and something about his presence…no, not his…its…

"You can," it whispered, voice unchanged and yet darker, "I’m here....Let me sleep once more. Then I will fall, and I will be free." It narrowed its dead eyes at her, and a shadow fell across its face. "Let me sleep a little while."

Then, as if a spell had been broken, the phantom shifted and dissipated, leaving Shera alone in the room.

Go on to Section 4