Ficlet: "Some Days", FF7
He wakes up most mornings to a searing pain in his chest, and reaches over for his first pack of cigs. It dulls the ache for a while, and hides the coughing and the convulsions that he knows will kill him before he hits fifty. Some days, he doesn't feel like dragging himself out of bed. But he always does, making breakfast and a cup of tea before he heads out to the WRO airdock.
Cid's a quiet man, too old to be only thirty-five, with an intense stare like a hawk. Sometimes people catch him staring off into the distance, not really there, reliving some wartime tragedy. He doesn't talk about what happened to him in Wutai. He's supposed to be the Captain, a leader, a rock, and that's the face he shows the world.
Shera knows different. She's been there with him in the most intimate of moments. She's held him when he was in the midst of a fit, fed him when he was too weak to get up after, seen the worry lines on his face and the panicked look in his eyes when he wakes up from his all-too-frequent nightmares. But even she doesn't know everything.
He keeps his will in the nightstand drawer, always ready for the worst. He already needs reading glasses to see the fine print. He's practically deaf in his left ear. The coughing is getting worse, and on occassion he's passed out for a few seconds, unable to breathe. The end is drawing closer, and he knows it.
Some days he wants to close his eyes and just slip away from the pain. But he gets up anyways, because he knows they need him.
He never admits that he may need them as well.