Changes

By Kallah

Sit by my side, come as close as the air,

Share in a memory of gray;

Wander in my words, dream about the pictures

That I play of changes.

            -Phil Ochs, Changes

Cid stretched as he reached Rocket Town, shaking his head at the empty launch pad. Huh ... never thought I’d miss this place. He headed for home, surprised to find the house empty. Shera musta gone out for supplies or something. He walked into his bedroom and shook his head in disgust. When did I turn into such a goddamn slob?

His bedroom was a mess, dirty laundry and overflowing ashtrays everywhere, and he realized it had been that way for a long time. The damn C.O. woulda been pissed as hell, he thought, surveying the mess. He decided that as long as he was waiting for Shera, he’d make himself some tea and clean it up. Bout time I started doing things myself again ‘steada making Shera do all the damn work. He put the kettle on and flung open the windows despite the chill.

The kettle had just begun to boil when he found the photograph album.

Forgot I had this ... haven’t looked at it in years. A younger, slimmer and somewhat (though probably not noticeably) more sober Palmer, himself, Shera, the crew ... the glory days when they’d been building Shinra No. 26, before anything had gone wrong. Back when they didn’t believe anything could go wrong. He flipped through the album as he drank a cup of tea. Himself and Shera arguing over the design of the cockpit, laughing in the pub at night. Shots of Shera he’d taken when she wasn’t looking, and his favorite, a picture he hadn’t looked at since the aborted launch. It had been dawn, and she’d thought he was still in bed. Her hair was still down from the shower, and she’d gone outside barefoot to watch the dawn, the wind playing with her hair and the skirt of her dress. He’d been carrying it in his jacket for that launch, but he’d never told her. He closed the book. You still like watching the sun rise, Shera? Ain’t asked or cared in years. Can’t remember the last time you really laughed, either. Cid shook his head and closed the album. Can’t remember the last time I did. He went back to work, starting to wonder where Shera was.

He had just kicked the washing machine and was hopping on one foot, swearing, when she came back.

“Who’s there? C-Captain?” She nearly dropped the heavy packages, staring at him in disbelief.
He grabbed the packages from her and set them on the kitchen floor. “%&@$, Shera, what’s in these damn things?”

“Just household - Captain, is it over? But Meteor’s still there and - you’re doing laundry? ”

“If I can figure out this damn machine!” He glowered at the machine with the same look he gave Yuffie when he found her retching on his Highwind, as if it was staged purely and absolutely to piss him off.

“But - what are you doing back? What’s happening?” she asked, sorting out the problem and starting the laundry.

“Damn, the tea’s cold. Lemme make a fresh pot and I’ll tell ya, Shera.” He put the kettle on the stove and rummaged out a clean cup for her. “And call me Cid. You’re not some goddam flunky!”

Shera sat down at the table, staring at him as if he’d gone completely mad. “Cap-Cid. I don’t understand ...”

“That damn Cloud told us all to go off and remember why we’re in this fight. Only here for the night, gotta go back and go after that bastard Sephiroth tomorrow.” He shook his head, waiting for the kettle to boil, and turned to look at her. “You remember back when the Space Program was just starting?” He pushed the photo album toward her.

“Yes,” Shera said, smiling softly, and flipping open the album. Her eyes widened. “I remember. We were all so excited, so happy ... our dreams were coming true. We felt we could do anything.”

“Work our asses off all day and be up half the night, and ready to do it all again the next day,” Cid said, as the kettle came to a boil. He measured tea into the teapot and poured in the water.

“You used to laugh then,” Shera said. She shook her head and looked at the album, unable to meet his eyes. She flipped the pages slowly, pausing now and then at a particular picture. Cid wondered suddenly whether Shera had a photo album of her own, whether she’d ever looked at it remembering those days.

“So did you.” Cid smiled. “You remember all the ways we drove the brass crazy to get exactly what we wanted?”

“Yes, and they couldn’t do anything because there was no one who could possibly replace us,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with the memory as she looked up. “And the time you spiked Palmer’s hip flask with pepper juice ...”

“Oh, yeah ... that was a good one,” Cid replied, grinning. “Those were damn good days, Shera.”

“And then everything fell apart,” she said, looking down again, voice suddenly flat. “My fault ...”

“No,” Cid said firmly. She looked up at him in shock. “I know I been saying it’s your fault ever since it happened, but ... &^%#$, Shera, I was wrong. I shoulda known to listen to you, but I was too damn impatient.”

“Cid?”

He poured her a cup of tea. “You like a spoonful of honey, right?” At her nod, he spooned the honey into her cup and handed it to her before pouring his own. “Damn. I’m no good at this stuff. Shera, I’m ... sorry.”

She blinked, her eyes starting to water. He reached over the table and covered her hand with his. “You got no reason to believe me, I know. Could say I’m sorry until the world ends and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Cid, I ... are you serious?” She blinked hard before a tear could escape her eyes, and her hand shook just slightly under his.

“Damn straight I’m serious,” he said. “Hell, Shera. Dunno what it is, but ... sometime while I been running around with those nutcases, I realized ... &*#$#@!, but I don’t like the asshole I turned into.”

Shera turned her hand up to clasp his, her eyes still suspiciously bright. “Cid?”

Cid looked down into his tea, and squeezed her hand gently. “Hell, Shera, you’re gonna kill me for this, but hanging around Tifa and Yuffie ... made me think about ya back in those days. Damn, you used to be like Yuffie some ways, always up for a joke, always there in a pinch. And you used to be determined things would work out, just like Tifa, no matter how many hours it took.”

She nodded. “You were always pushing and prodding and shouting to get your way, stomping around and cussing. I was always in the background, working behind the scenes.”

“Too &^$(# modest, Shera. Shoulda put yourself forward some, stood up for yourself, ‘specially to me. Been treating you like garbage for years.”

“I ...”

“But ... hell, Shera. Gimme a second chance and find out if maybe I’m worth forgiving? Cause ... well, you can’t ever be the old Shera again, but maybe you can remember how to laugh. Ain’t heard you laugh in a long time.”

“I don’t remember hearing you laugh in a long time, either, Cid.” She squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“You have your second chance.” She looked up at him, grinning. “Don’t blow it!”

Cid opened his mouth to protest, closed it, and grinned back. “Who, me?”

* * *

Cid left the next morning, a breakfast of sausage and biscuits warming him up from the inside, a photograph tucked inside his jacket, and whistling a merry tune. Sephiroth, you @#%!* bastard, you don’t stand a chance.

Phil Och’s Changes is probably the most beautiful love song I’ve ever heard ... even though it’s about a breakup. Or maybe because it’s about a breakup. The full lyrics just made me think about Cid and Shera’s relationship. My favorite rendition of this song (at the moment, anyway) is Nanci Tucker’s, on the Phil Och’s tribute album What’s That I Hear? For everything you could want to know about Phil Ochs and lyrics to most of his songs, go to Trent’s Phil Och’s page .

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