Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Ice ❯ A Leader's Burden ( Chapter 15 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

*** change in time and place
- - - meanwhile
~ ~ ~ Very short time passes
(internal thought)
//demon's speaking//
 
Chapter 15: A Leader's Burden
 
“…guess it's been about a week now since he washed up here on the shore… Poor pokey-headed young thing…”
 
At the mention of pokey-headed, Cid Highwind's head snapped up, blue eyes shining bright. It had to be!
 
Yuffie looked up at him from where she knelt on the ground, petting the large brown dog that had wagged its tail. There was a look of excitement and disbelief on her face.
 
“Didja hear that?”
 
“Yeah,” Cid breathed. “Who else's got hair like a chocobo?”
 
Barret pushed past the two of them and strode up to the two men, who were gossiping in front of someone's home.
 
“That pokey-headed man… where is he?” the dark-skinned man asked in a growling voice that he attempted to make friendly.
 
“He's in the clinic,” the shorter man commented with a shrug, gesturing up the hill to a lone building. Barret didn't give the man time to say anything else as he rushed up the hill, the other AVALANCHE members following behind him.

”Thanks,” Cid managed as he passed.
 
The two men could only stare at the odd behavior of the friends as they stampeded up the hill towards the clinic.
 
~ ~ ~
 
“Cloud!” Yuffie exclaimed as she pushed past Barret and shoved her way into the clinic. Her excited shriek pierced the ears of all those present even as the heavy clomp of Barret's boots sounded behind her. The two of them crowded in the doorway.
 
The nurse at the front desk grimaced. “There are injured people here. Keep your voices down.” Her reproachful look sent tremors of guilt and shame through both present.
 
“We are looking for a friend of ours,” Yuffie explained with worried eyes.
 
“Yeah,” the older man added. “He's a short, scrawny guy with spiky chocobo yellow hair and blue eyes. His name's Cloud.”
 
The nurse appeared thoughtful. “We do have a patient here by that description. He is an unknown.”
 
“Can we see him?” the ninja asked excitedly just as the door behind the two of them opened and more members of their group tried to squeeze in.
 
“Hey, lemme in, dammit!”
 
“Can you see him?”
 
“Is it him? Is he there?”
 
“What is this ruckus!!” a grey-haired doctor exclaimed, an angry look on his face as he emerged from behind one of the curtains that shielded patients from prying eyes.
 
“We may know the identity of our unknown,” the nurse gently explained, gesturing towards the crowd of people trying to fit into the tiny space.
 
“Can't all of them come back here!” the doctor argued. “One, maybe two, but not all of you.”
 
The group of friends looked among each other as if deciding which of them would stay to identify and recognize Cloud, if in fact the unknown man was their fallen comrade.
 
Finally, Cid cursed aloud and started pushing his friends out the door. “Wait outside!” he ordered. “Me `n Barret will see if it's Cloud!”
 
Despite the chorus of groans and protests, the members of AVALANCHE made their way out the door. Yuffie was the last, turning back to say one last thing… Cid promptly shut the door in her face.
 
Sighing, the pilot turned back to where Barret and the doctor were waiting. He ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up, as he shrugged.
 
“Let's go,” he said simply.
 
The doctor nodded as he turned slightly and headed towards a small curtain. Reaching out with gnarled fingers, gesturing that they should enter. Barret and Cid complied. Once they were beyond the curtain, they received their first glimpse of the unknown man.
 
It was most definitely Cloud, but much about him had changed. He sat weakly in a wheel chair, barely able to keep his head up. His eyes seemed vacant and empty… as if his soul and mind had simply departed leaving a vacant shell behind. It was disturbing.
 
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Cid demanded aghast. He had never seen Cloud looking so weak and frail. It scared him in ways he didn't understand.
 
“Mako poisoning…” answered the doctor from the doorway. “Quite an advanced case I may add. He's lucky to be alive.”
 
“Alive?” Cid exclaimed. “Fuck! Look at him!”
 
“He can't even see or hear us,” Barret muttered softly. He shook his head. There was something very wrong with seeing their illustrious leader in such a state. It brought to mind one's own weaknesses.
 
“He is somehow locked within his own consciousness,” the doctor commented, referring to their statements. “I'm not sure if I have the capacity to help him.”
 
Cid asked, “What about… somewhere else?”
 
The doctor shook his head in a negative fashion even as he pulled off his glasses to rub the lenses between cloths. He gave the pilot his most intense and serious stare but did not answer out loud.
 
“Well, Captain,” began Barret slowly. He turned towards Cid to look him in the eye. “What do we do?”
- - -
 
Outside the small island clinic, a group of anxious AVALANCHE members waited solemnly
 
Yuffie was pacing back and forth, occasionally asking questions to which no one would answer. The normally cheerful ninja seemed agitated as she walked a small line in the ground.
 
Nanaki was lying on the ground, tail swishing constantly as his head sat worriedly on his paws. He stared morosely up at the door to the clinic. He wasn't sure what answer he was hoping for. If it truly was Cloud… then there was a reason he was in a medical clinic… and after a week… the odds weren't good.

Reeve and Vincent were standing off to the side, talking to each other in low tones, as if keeping their conversation apart from the younger members. Reeve was chewing his lips nervously between words, while the expression on Vincent's face was completely unreadable.
 
“What if it isn't him?” Yuffie finally asked aloud. Her brown eyes darted from face to face. Everyone managed to look completely busy and ignored her question.
 
Despite his problems and occasional leader blunders, Cloud was loved by his friends. Through all that the group had been through, they were slowly drawing closer together. The friends did not want to lose another… not like they had lost Aeris. It was beginning to seem like a grim fight as they were betrayed or killed, around every corner it seemed.
 
No one wanted to face what would happen if Cloud was indeed dead… or beyond help. It was as if he were a symbol of their strength and unity. If he was gone, the others would drift away. If he couldn't live to destroy Sephiroth, who could?
 
“What if… he doesn't remember us or something?” the ninja asked again. She received stony glares for an answer.
 
No one wanted to speculate.
 
“What if-“
 
“Yuffie!” Vincent growled, cutting her off before she could ask another question. He opened his mouth as if to add to his rebuke but was cut short when the door to the clinic opened, Cid and Barret stepping out.
 
Four pairs of eyes turned towards the two men expectantly.
 
“Well…” began Cid. “It is him.”
 
Yuffie made as if to cheer, a big smile creeping up on her face. But the look on Cid's face told her there was more and she quickly pushed her celebrations down.
 
“But?” asked Reeve, encouraging Cid to continue.
 
“He has mako poisoning,” the pilot muttered angrily. “Damn kids like a vegetable.”
 
“Will he get better?” Yuffie asked, her smile already erased from her face. A wave of guilt washed over her. Not that she blamed herself for the situation, but for the way that she had annoyed him so much.
 
Cid shrugged. “I don't know. The doctor is surprised he is even alive.”
 
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the weight of Cid's words settled heavily in their hearts.
 
“What are we going to do?” asked Vincent quietly, breaking the silence.
 
“Me `n Cid have come to a decision,” began Barret. “I will stay here just in case Cloud comes out of it. But everyone else… you're going to continue the fight. Can't let damn ShinRa or fuckin' Sephiroth win!” His words echoed, sounding strangely hollow.
 
Just then, Cid's PHS rang, the sound disturbing the quiet, calm that was the southern village of Mideel. He sighed and reached into his pockets, pulling out the small silver flip phone and pressing the talk button.
 
“Highwind… What about?... When?... Start the engines and get her ready for launch… Give us ten minutes!” He snapped the phone shut angrily and shoved it back into his pocket.
 
“Well?” Yuffie persisted expectantly.
 
“Damn ShinRa are taking matters into their own hands,” the Captain answered wearily. “Something about Huge materia and blowing up Meteor. We can find out more when we get to the airship.”
 
“Duty calls.” Barret sighed. For a brief moment, he wished he were going as well.
 
“We'll come back,” the pilot promised.
 
“You had better,” the dark-skinned man warned.
 
* * *
 
Being the leader of an environmental terrorist group wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The stress and responsibility of doing his job was beginning to weigh heavily on Cid's shoulders. It seemed everyday it was getting harder to get up with all the weight on his back… or at least, so Vincent had noticed. Leadership was taking a toll on the pilot and not in a good way.
 
Cid consistently worried about Cloud, more for selfish reasons than anything else. He was tired of being leader, weary of being asked what to do, and scared to death that the next decision he made would send them to their deaths. The pilot had changed with the stress. He was even more short-tempered than usual. Poor Yuffie had even learned to keep her mouth shut.
 
The Fort Condor mission was the beginning of it. Sending soldiers to their deaths against attacking ShinRa troops, barely able to maintain their hold on to the high ground. It was a narrow battle. At least, they managed to gain hold of the Huge Materia.
 
Then the friends hadn't had any time to rest before they found out about the reactor on Mt. Corel. This time though, they had to move fast.
 
The group - at the time it was Cid, Vincent, and Yuffie - had managed to save both the town and the Huge Materia but just barely… too close for Cid's liking.
 
It was for this and other reasons that Vincent found himself searching for the stressed temporary leader. In the cockpit, the gunman had been informed that the Captain had retired early, muttering something about food and being clean. Vincent had also tried the mess hall, finding it mostly empty. Yuffie was poking about in the fridge, but that wasn't something unusual. So he headed for the living quarters, the only plausible place left for Cid to be. It was there that he finally stood in front of the door to the larger-than-all-the-others room belonging to Cid Highwind, it finally hit him exactly where he was.
 
(What am I doing?) he asked himself.
 
//Isn't it obvious?// Hellmasker answered, cackling.
 
Vincent's hand paused in front of the door, raised to knock but never completely the action. (What if he rejects me again? He might still be pissed.)
 
//Who cares?// The demon gave an internal shrug.
 
Odd that it was Hellmasker speaking and not the more vocal of the four, Chaos.
(I care, dammit! Hojo tried his best but I'll not be made into a heartless creature!)
 
Hellmasker laughed, his glee cold and echoing inside the gunman's head. //You are a monster, oh body of mine, never tell yourself any different.//
 
(I am not YOURS!) Vincent hissed to himself. (Would I could be finally rid of you, I would-)
 
//Would what? Without us you are nothing. Just another freak. At least we give you power…//
 
(Shut up! I refuse to listen to you anymore!) responded Vincent. He tried to drown out the demon's voice as he returned his attentions to the task at hand. (Just knock on the damn door, you coward!)
 
Hellmasker cackled to himself but did not say anything.
 
Vincent ignored the demon and took a deep breath, again asking himself exactly what he was doing. It was not as if he and Cid were lovers or anything special to each other. He had no real reason to want to come and comfort the pilot and yet…
 
He could not help but remember an event of days past.
 
## Flashback ##
 
It was right after Fort Condor mission and the group was wearily trudging up the ramp of the airship, hoping to get some rest before they intercepted any more of ShinRa's transmissions.
 
Vincent was usually the last to enter the ship, one of his silly quirks that he had picked up since being awoken from his slumber. But for once, Cid was the last, insisting that he wanted to give the airship one last go over from the outside before they took off for the day.
 
On impulse, Vincent hung back, hiding in the shadows to watch the pilot, wondering exactly what it was he was going to do.
 
At first, it seemed that Cid was doing nothing more than he had explained to them. He lit up a cigarette, puffing on it slowly as he inspected some of the landing gears and perused the metal coverings over the wings. He appeared to be muttering to himself but the gunman couldn't make out the words.
 
Finally, he seemed satisfied with whatever it was he was looking for. But instead of heading for the ramp to get back onto the ship, Cid stood and stared off into the distance, his back to the Highwind.
 
Vincent could not see his face and did not know what he was doing even as he shifted uncomfortably in his hiding place.
 
When had life become so complicated for him? One minute he was a Turk, one of the best, his life set in stone. The next, he has brief flashes of memories and nightmares about torture and pain. After that, he woke up to find a pair of mako blue eyes staring down at him lying in a coffin. Thirty years had passed. Lucrecia was dead, Sephiroth had become homicidal, and Hojo… the bastard was still running free.
 
Vincent did not exactly know what all had happened to him down in the basement, only knowing the aftereffects: the demons, a strange healing and longevity, and of course, the damn metal claw. However, he did remember the cause for his suffering.
 
His pride and his arrogance, they were his sins and his downfall. He had loved Lucrecia, which was enough to make Hojo despise him. He had tried to take her away from that god forsaken place, which made him hated. And then he had insulted the madman's research. This had all cumulated in his doom.
 
He was a Turk; he should have known to take his weapon. But Hojo was just a scientist, a small, nerdy guy with glasses. Not really a match for Vincent Valentine. Lucrecia was pregnant, and Hojo wanted the child; a child that should have been Vincent's but most assuredly wasn't.
 
He had deserved all that happened to him. He hadn't protected her like he promised. He hadn't protected the child, the baby that would be born to grow up and lead ShinRa's armies. That was his sin… that was his sorrow.
 
Vincent was distracted from his internal memories when he noticed that Cid's position had shifted. He was no longer facing the horizon anymore but walking up towards the ramp. The ex-Turk moved further back into the shadows as the blond climbed up the ramp and hit the button that would raise it, allowing for the Highwind to lift off.
 
The pilot pressed a button, activating an intercom to the cockpit. The helmsman listened quietly as Cid ordered him to get the Highwind off the ground and head towards Cosmo Canyon. With that taken care of, Cid moved away from the panel and further into the recesses of the ship. He seemed to walk slower than usual, dragging his steps.
 
Vincent detached himself from the shadows, following the pilot silently. The blond was acting oddly and Vincent was determined to find out why.
 
The gunman wasn't sure when his feelings for the pilot had become more than early lust. Ever since that night at Gold Saucer, he could think of nothing else but doing it again. Cid had invaded his mind and his dreams, not that he minded, but it was very confusing. He had had male lovers before, quite often when he was a Turk, in fact. Everyone had wanted to taste the Vincent Valentine but there was something about the pilot that made him different.
 
It made him feel warm inside, like something was melting down his walls and he wasn't able to build them up fast enough before there was another attack. Cid was the first to befriend him… the first to speak kindly. But still… was that enough for these sudden sparks of emotion?
 
Regardless, Vincent knew he couldn't give Cid what the pilot desired. He wasn't a man cut out for that kind of thing. He couldn't save Lucrecia; he couldn't protect the woman he loved. Creatures such as the one he had become could never truly love. Vincent honestly believed that he had lost that capacity.
 
The gunman had made a serious error, the day that he so rudely shot down Cid because he didn't want to think about anything at the moment. Goes to show how he was more similar to the monsters than humans. Perhaps Hojo really had changed him more than he thought…
 
He jerked out of his musings when he noticed that instead of heading for either the cockpit or the living quarters, the pilot was heading for the deck. He was walking thoughtfully, hands in his pockets, eyes staring at the ground, his shoulders hunched. Cid Highwind certainly looked like a defeated man, despite the victory of the day.
 
A few minutes later and Vincent found himself peering through a gap in the doorway, observing the pilot's actions. He stood at the railing, hands gripped tightly on the metal bars as he stared out at the passing scenery. That should have calmed the pilot, but it only served to make him feel worse.
 
Vincent's eyes widened in shock when Cid suddenly stepped back from the railing and punched it viciously as if the metal had bit him. The pilot didn't even flinch as his knuckles began to redden and bleed, instead muttering something under his breath. His blue eyes shone as if he were going to cry but the tears would not fall.
 
Vincent held his breath with the sudden realization that Cid, their leader and famous Captain of the Highwind, was breaking… he was falling apart. Vincent took several steps back from the door even as he caught a glimpse of the blond collapsing on his ass, staring out morosely at the setting sun. He would have to think about what it was he had just seen.
 
## End Flashback ##
 
Vincent took a deep breath, again staring at the door. He had tried to push that day out of his mind as best he could then, not entirely sure how to handle the situation.
 
But then today, at Mt. Corel, when they were frantically trying to stop the train, both Vincent and Reeve had turned to Cid, the most experienced in moving mechanics for answers. It was the doubt… the doubt about his own skills that flashed in a pair of sky blue eyes that set Vincent on his current course of action.
 
Maybe the gunman couldn't love… maybe he didn't deserve it… maybe he was a monster… but Cid was not.
 
His courage regained; Vincent moved to knock on the door.
 
Too late, the door suddenly swung inwards, opening. The gunman was now face to face with Cid who was very confused.
 
“Vince?” he asked, blinking at him blearily, his voice thick with something akin to the effect of having been drinking. “What are you doin' here?”
 
Vincent lowered his hand as he considered the pilot and his question. “You look like shit,” he commented softly, avoiding Cid's question.
 
Never a more obvious statement there had been. Cid's blond hair was mussed and sticking in all directions, no longer restrained by the ever present goggles. There were dark circles under his unfocused blue eyes and his normally tanned skin seemed paler than usual. He wore only his blue jeans and even they hung loosely on his hips. The pilot leaned up against the doorway, holding the door open only enough for his body to fit.
 
“Thanks,” the blond responded dryly. “Any other obvious statements?”
 
“Can I come in, or would you rather I said this out in the hall?” Vincent asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
Cid pushed the door open completely and turned around, heading back into the room. It was up to the gunman to show himself in. The ex-Turk walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. But he moved no further than that, instead watching Cid intently. The pilot shuffled over to his bed where he crawled back on it, reaching for a small glass bottle that was sitting on the bedside table.
 
“You can sit in a chair, Vince,” commented Cid wryly as he reached for a cigarette and lit up.
 
Vincent complied, striding across the floor towards the small table that housed two chairs. He pulled out one and sat down, looking at Cid. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence until finally Vincent spoke.
 
“What are you drinking?” he asked even though he could smell the liquid from where he sat. Cid's favorite flavor of course, scotch.
 
“Water,” the blond mumbled simply.
 
Vincent shook his head. It was obvious that Cid was lying to him. But why the pilot thought he needed to hide it, the gunman wasn't sure. The blond never really was one for keeping things hidden.
 
“Why the hell are you in my room?” asked Cid, noting the look that Vincent had given him. He was already feeling a bit of a buzz from the scotch that he had been downing straight.
 
The Captain had never been the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol but for some reason, today seemed like the perfect day to start. At least if he had to be leader for the rest of the battle, he would have a coping factor.
 
But now, this dark-headed gunman was making things different. Their relationship was like a labyrinth and he had completely lost the bit of string. Vincent just didn't know what the hell he wanted and to be honest, Cid wasn't entirely sure either.
 
“I know, Cid,” Vincent said, his way of answering.
 
“Know about what?”
 
“After Fort Condor… I was watching you.”
 
Cid shrugged. The alcohol was coursing through his blood stream, making him feel all warm and causing his brain to fog just a little. There was a pleasant numbing feeling to his emotions that seemed strangely addictive. “'Sat s'posed to mean somethin' to me?”
 
Vincent's eyes narrowed as he watched the pilot take another swig of his scotch and draw thickly on his cigarette. He was going to make himself sick if he kept that up. The dark-haired man stood quickly up from the chair and stormed over to Cid, jerking the bottle of alcohol violently from his grasp and throwing it far away from the reaching pilot. He heard a resulting thud and the sound of something shattering. Cid flinched.
 
“I was drinkin' that!!” he angrily protested.
 
Vincent ignored him, drawing up to his full height to stare down at the pilot. “Where were you going when you opened the door?” he demanded.
 
“To throw myself off the deck,” the pilot joked bitterly. Vincent moved quickly, gripping Cid by the shoulders and forcing the pilot to look him in the eye. The blond was barely able to focus. Apparently, the scotch was having too much of an effect on him.
 
“Okay, sheesh, I was joking,” Cid muttered.
 
“What is wrong with you, Highwind?” Vincent hissed, not moving from their position. Cid made no move to remove the gunman's hands from his shoulders, though he did reach up to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, crushing it into the table and effectively putting it out. “You are not one to fall apart at the seams.”
 
“Hey!” Cid answered angrily. “No one asked me if I wanted this. They all just said, `Ooh, let's make Cid the leader! He'll be good at it!'” He pushed against Vincent, trying to make the raven-haired man back off, even as he struggled to rise to his feet, going anywhere but in the gaze of those accusing crimson eyes.
 
He did not get far, head spinning from the too quick movement and alcohol combination. Vincent shook his head as he caught the slumping pilot, using his arms to lift Cid up and lying him down on the bed. He sat down on the soft surface next to the pilot and looked down at him, his face impassive but some emotion showing through his eyes.
 
The blond reached blindly for the table. (Didn't he put that damn scotch there the last time he checked?). “Fuck!” Cid groaned. “You busted my scotch.”
 
“You don't need it,” answered Vincent simply. “Now answer my question.”
 
“I already did.”
 
Vincent shook his head negatively. “You once said that if I ever needed someone to talk to, I could always come to you.” Cid's eyes widened but he didn't say anything. Vincent continued, “I know extend the same invitation to you.”
 
For some reason, those words pierced through the hazy fog of Cid's subconscious and he sought to push past the buzz and sit up. Hell, if Vincent was going to sit and let him talk without saying anything, who was he to pass that opportunity up?
 
“Okay…” began Cid as he sat up. He ran his hands nervously through his hair as he contemplated on where to begin.
 
“I will just listen.”
 
Cid nodded. He wasn't even sure where to begin. There had been so many things going on the past several days that his mind hadn't been able to catch up with the rest of him. He suddenly violently wished that Cloud would hurry up and get better.
 
“Do ya think Cloud will ever come out of it?” Cid asked.
 
Vincent sighed. “I do not know. But for your sake, I hope so.”
 
“My sake?”
 
“Don't lie and tell me you suddenly enjoy being leader?”
 
Cid sighed. “You are right… ya know. If I had chosen wrong… North Corel would be nothing more than a pile of scrap and rubble right now.”
 
“But you didn't. You saved them and got the Huge Materia in the process.”
 
“That's not the point,” roared Cid angrily. He instantly regretted his tone of voice when he saw the hardened look on Vincent's face and the set tone of his jaw.
 
“I don't want to this anymore… I don't want this responsibility. If we hadn't saved that town today,” Cid shook his head before continuing. “I don't know what I would have done.” His confession out, the blond felt strangely weak, as if he had just finished running a marathon against trained athletes and managed to win in his condition. He slumped against the headboard.
 
“Cid…” murmured Vincent as he observed Cid's actions. Something within him broke and all he wanted to do was comfort the pilot… but still he held back.
 
“Do you… still hate what we had together?” he asked softly, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
 
“I never hated what we did,” Vincent answered truthfully. “I was just-“
 
“Scared…” Cid finished for him. “Yeah, that is what I am. Scared that I will screw up everyone's life or end up making the wrong decisions or fail in some way…”
 
“That's the unfortunate circumstances and doubts that come along with being a leader. You can't be right all the time.”
 
“Yeah, whatever…” the blond mused, wrapping his arms around himself. “Thanks for listening but I think I want to be alone now.”
 
“I still haven't told you why I was standing outside your door,” the dark-haired man countered, balking. There was absolutely no way he was going to leave the pilot back to his depressive state.
 
The Captain opened his eyes and turned his attention to the gunman, searching his face intently. “Why?”
 
Instead of answering, Vincent decided to just act. He knew his words would only come out stuttered and confusing so he chose to show the frustrating pilot. He reached out quickly and pulled the pilot close to him.
 
Cid's eyes widened in surprise when Vincent suddenly latched onto his mouth, kissing him hungrily. His lips parted almost immediately and the gunman slipped his tongue inside, searching for Cid's. They met and began to dance, a rhythm that both men's bodies unconsciously recognized.
 
The pilot brought his arms to wrap around Vincent's neck, eager to deepen the kiss as he settled comfortably in the gunman's arms. It felt so right to the pilot. It was a need to breathe that finally separated them, as Vincent began to trail small licks across the blond's stubbly jaw and heading for the sensitive area on Cid's neck at the base of his jaw and earlobe.
 
“Vince…” moaned Cid, voice turned breathy at the ex-Turk's touch. He could still taste that kiss, rolling around inside his mouth, and Vincent's warm hand on his back was encouraging his already hardening length.
 
Vincent nibbled at Cid's neck, eliciting another moan from the pilot. “Just let me do this one thing for you…” the dark-haired man said in a voice that hinged on pleading, nipping again at the blond's neck. “I can help you forget about it all… make you feel good.” He pulled back, crimson eyes meeting sky blue.
 
Cid searched Vincent's face, unsure of what he should do. He desired Vincent, but, then again, he also remembered what happened the last time he had sex with the gunman. But he felt so damn good pressed up against him…
 
“I…” Cid stuttered.
 
What to do… what to do…
 
* * *