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“…I can think of none better than you.”
Those were the last words Cidolfus Telamon spoke to Clive Rosfield soon after transferring the power of Ramuh into Clive’s body. Cid’s body gave up and he passed on. Cid informed Clive that the world in which they love needed an outlaw, and it had to be him… it had to be. Jill and Clive weeped and lamented for their fallen friend, their mentor, their guidance.
The last thing Clive remembers seeing were cyan blue flames before slowly entering a deep slumber. As he succumb to sleep, he heard a familiar yet anomalous voice speak the words:
‘In ashen grip, let ember glow, to kindle flames anew.’
He was overcome by drowsiness and the need to sleep. It was almost like a higher presence was demanding he shan’t see the occurring event before him. Of course, stood in front of him was his supposed dead brother, Joshua Rosfield. Defending his brother’s honour by taking on the unfamiliar enemy before him. Clive reaches out a hand to the hooded figure but consciousness does not favour him. Unfortunately he does not stay awake to witness it.
Deep in slumber, Clive replays the horror that previously came to pass. Cid, a man who gave him everything through words of wisdom, dying in his arms after protecting him from something he is yet to understand. He twitches in his slumber as he remembers the crimson red blood that pierced through Cidolfus’ skin, as he lay there struggling to breathe and struggling to find the strength to go on - the sounds of Cid’s groans as he gives Clive the essence of Ramuh’s power echoes through his mind. The cries only get louder and the screams more intense. He can hear the cries of his dear friend, Jill as she grips onto Cid’s rotting corpse. She begins to fall asleep next to it, burying herself beneath his flesh. She traps herself within the carcass, and Clive just watches it happen. He now stands with his mouth agape and petrified. The vision of his enemy’s brute and defunct eyes as they pierced through Cid’s chest. The manic surrounding the resonance of it’s voice, it was calming yet frightening. Like he was inviting him in. Like he belonged with it… whatever it was.
Why didn’t he just listen to it? Cid would be alive.
Why didn’t he just fight? Cid would be alive.
Why didn’t he just protect his friends? Cid would be alive.
Why didn’t he retaliate in any way, shape or form? Cid would be alive.
Cid would be alive.
Clive gasps. He wakes up in the infirmary. To the left of him lays his dearest friend, Jill. Only this time she isn’t covered in the flesh of their fallen friend. She’s sleeping. She’s peaceful. Albeit she’s paler than her Shiva form, but nonetheless she’s… alive.
To his right is a figure he can’t quite make out, his vision now blurred. He fights to stay awake. He makes out a figure walking towards him. She speaks, softly but stern.
“Awake already? This is unexpected. Please stay still. You need your rest.” The figure spoke.
Clive mumbled something inaudible yet contained a confused tone.
The figure laughed. “Clive, please. Don’t fight it. You need your rest.” She places a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”
As Clive’s eyes come into focus, he realises the figure was Tarja, the Hideaway’s medic. The one whom Cid always trusted to patch people up so they could be on their merry way.
“T-Tarja…” he exhales.
She hums in response. “Rest now, Clive. Please.”
He feels his eyes shut again.
“What would you do if you had the chance, lad?” Cid’s smoky voice echoes his thoughts.
The atmosphere around him was misty and blue. Clive stood in his armour. Alone. He sighs.
“Come back to me, Cid. I can’t do this.”
He looks up to a misty sky above him. He calls out to Cid but he gets no answer.
“Answer me then, you fool.” He hears Cid’s voice again. This time Cid is also laughing. And somehow Clive’s depression is almost non-existent. Oh… to hear it again. A sweet melody closer to that which would play on the Orchestrion at the Hideaway.
Cid was nowhere to be seen. He searched left to right, ran and paced every crevice of this godforsaken nothingness. He just wanted to see him. To hear him was a blessing but to see him would be harmonious and therapeutic. He didn’t realise it until he was gone but he adored Cid, more than anything. Cid was the person who did not give up on him despite his flaws and his wrongs. Cid convinced Clive that life was somewhat worth living, and with that little bit of free will, well, anything was possible.
“I… I can’t see you Cid.” Clive responds, tears forming in his eyes once again.
“You can’t?” The voice echoes. “But i’m always with you, Clive. It’s my job. To be here for you. You don’t need to see me, per se. I just need to be there, and be there I will always.”
Clive blinks slowly, smiling. “I know. Thank you. I-“
“Don’t say it lad. It needn’t be said. Just shown.” Cid interrupts him.
“Shown?”
Cid’s laughter once again echoes the empty atmosphere. Everything goes black but his laughter still remains.
Clive reaches out, “Come back to me…” his voice trails off.
Suddenly he awakens again, his arm raised in the air. He slowly raises it down and lifts himself up from the bed. He looks over to his left, Jill is no longer in her bed. Tarja is also nowhere to be seen. He looks to his right, there’s someone in that bed. Someone resting. But who? They had their face turned to the side and Clive was still adjusting his eyesight. He figured it would be best if he simply got up from the bed and shuffled over to them, maybe he could help them once they’d awoken. Maybe it would make him hurt less. If he could save someone else like he couldn’t save the one person who meant everything to him (and more) then maybe he could be redeemed. Just maybe.
Clive sighs. He stretches out his body as he slowly rises from his rest. May the founder guide him back on his feet. Who knows how long he’d been out of action for. He dreads to think of the state of the realm. They’re not in the Hideaway either. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was somewhere close to Martha’s Rest. He can’t quite remember where, all things considering, but he knows the general location. Ok, things were getting familiar.
Now, it begs the question of who the hell it is thats laying on the other bed? Could it be the hooded figure he noticed before he passed out cold? If so, who was it and what purpose did they serve back there? What happened to the Hideaway? Were Gav and everyone else okay? No, he needn’t add anymore pressure to his already existing headache. One thing at a time.
The figure in the bed. He slowly walks over to it. Sadness fills his eyes as he sees the figure restlessly sleeping. Their unusually tanned skin had a sense of familiarity to it, like he’d seen them before. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he wanted to move closer to their face to examine them. The closer he got the more he realised. Every organ in his anatomy seized up. He felt the bile rise up within his body. He didn’t know if it was due to relief or guilt. He began to cry as he fell to his knees beside the resting figure. He caressed their hand as they finally began to lay peacefully. He was reunited once again with the man who meant more than he imagined. Cidolfus Telamon lay there, elegantly beautiful in his own special way. Rough around the edges but soft in the middle. One would say he was the personal embodiment of the Hideaway, and one would say he was the epitome of a hard-worker who doesn’t know when to stop… and look where that got him, aye? Cid’s resting body finally turned to face him, still unconscious and still beautiful. The tears fell like constellations down Clive’s face but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in this moment because the one man who convinced him he wasn’t a monster was laying there ALIVE. He slightly pinched at his skin just to be sure and the overwhelmingness and delight made him slightly laugh. He let go of Cid’s hand briefly. He sniffled and wiped his nose and held onto his hand yet again, massaging in circles, relaxing into the moment.
And with that he decided to study Cid’s face, he wanted to take in everything. He never wanted to forget anything. He will be damned if he forgets every freckle or every hair on that man’s face. He was everything. Now what is it that catches one’s eye when it comes to Cidolfus Telamon other than his devilishly handsome good looks and smokey toned deep voice? For Clive it was the innocence behind his giving eyes. The man could convince you to do anything because his eyes would tell the story. And to Clive they told the story of a man who worked hard to make up for his past and right his wrongs. His blue eyes told you he’d become a tired man. He’d seen pretty much everything that could possibly turn a man’s stomach 360 degrees in disgust, but he soldiers on because what have we got if not the will to carry on? On our own terms? The cleanliness of his beard and the shape of his stubble suggests he was a man that did take care of himself despite his business and his need to put others before him. Which made Clive think, well, where does he have the time to pamper and groom himself if he’s fighting for himself and everyone else? And the man always had time for everyone. Every single person meant something to him. Every small minor detail about a person, it was so important to Cid that he had to note it down in case it became relevant at a later time. He deserved the world and he’s so relieved the world isn’t ready go give him up yet.
With Jill and Tarja still nowhere to be found he continued to rest beside Cid’s bed. He found a chair at a nearby desk and moved it over to Cid’s bedside. He sat down and continued to watch Cid rest. Stunned with relief that his chest was rising and falling, signalling to him that he was breathing.
‘Thank the founder. Thank whoever was listening. That they brought you back to me.’ He carefully raises Cid’s hand and gently kisses it. Smiling once again he places Cid’s hand back down by his side and feels himself fall into another sleep. This time darkness doesn’t surround him. This time it is light.
“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, lad.” He hears Cid’s voice in the void again. He opens his eyes to the emptiness. Low and behold nothing surrounds him but a bright light. But he’s okay with it. As long as Cid was alive. He’s okay with it.
Clive laughs, “i’d be lost without you.”
“I know. Its why I came back.” Cid’s voice replied scoffing slightly.
“So why can’t I see you in my head?” Clive asks looking around disappointed.
“Because you would rather see me with your eyes.” Cid’s voice seductively replies.
A smirk forms on Clive’s lips. He shakes his head.
“Why? H-how?”
“You needn’t ask here. Ask me when you’re conscious. Maybe it’ll be more meaningful for you to pour your heartstrings out to me in person. I could do with a good laugh. It’ll make me feel truly alive.” Cid jokes.
Clive now rolls his eyes. He slowly feels himself fade away from this zone of subconscious. Whatever it is. He’s safe here. But he knows exactly where he’d feel safer.
He remains asleep. But he knows he’s in the process of waking up. He feels the body next to him stirring, like they’re waking up too. It feels too good to be true still. He remains resting. But always on high alert.
Clive feels the bed vibrate from the sound of a deep, quiet yet heartfelt chuckle.
“Bloody hell… did Bahamut use you as a chew toy? You look like shit, Clive.” They speak, their eyebrows raised slightly quickly turning into a frown.
He was awake.
Clive’s face shot up faster than any of Ramuh’s lightning bolts could conjure up an attack.
“Cid! Y-you’re awake?” He gasps. Tears filling his eyes.
Cid makes eye contact with the poor sod and he crumbles. “Aye. You’re stuck with me lad.” He chuckles. Unable to move he shuffles slightly and makes a sound of discomfort. But still manages to crack a smile.
“Oh-“ Clive says softly touching his own cheek. “Who knew… a smile could bring me so much joy!” He exclaims softly.
The second dominant of fire couldn’t help himself. Despite Cid’s display of discomfort, Clive shot across the bed and embraced the Outlaw in a tender, gripping hug. Clive had the world in his embrace for the first time in 13 years. He had not felt a love this strong he knew the duty and pressure of being a shield of Rosaria. But something stronger this way comes. This love wasn’t a brotherly love. It wasn’t a family type of love. This was a romantic, agape that had been dying to show itself for so long. An embodiment of Eros. You see, dear reader, Clive Rosfield was in love. He was so infatuated and so besotted nothing could ever quite compare.
Cid was overcome with emotion. He felt joy to be reunited with the poor sod that helped him feel like a man again. He felt relief that the one person who showed him that maybe there isnt someone out there for him who won’t abandon him at the inclination of power and opportunity. He felt love. For the first time in a long time. A very long time. He felt love.
“Hey now. Slow down.” Cid chuckled, speaking into Clive’s neck. “Don’t wanna break the rest of me bones.”
Clive pulled away from the hug and caught eye contact with Cid. He pressed his forehead against The Outlaw’s and closed his eyes.
“I was lost, Cid. I’ve no compass or wisdom to guide me. Without you I was lost.”
“I was gone for a few hours, you ent half dramatic.”
Cid looks down at Clive’s lips. Clive’s still unsure of reality and squeezing his eyes shut whilst gently remaining pressed against Cid’s forehead.
“Open your eyes, Clive.” Cid says softly.
“You really are a fool.”
Clive opens his eyes. “I am?”
“Aye.” Cid leans in and slowly presses his lips to Clive’s.
Clive becomes eager and anxious as if he’s only just realised whats going on. He elongates the kiss and initiates a deeper satisfaction. His tongue demanding access to Cid’s mouth and Cid happily obliges. Clive moans softly causing the Outlaw to smirk within the moment.
Clive breaks from the kiss upon realising he was still leaning over an injured, recovering Cid.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Clive says caressing Cid’s wounds, and sitting up not long after breaking the kiss.
“Eager to touch me, are you?” Cid winks.
Clive scoffs.
“You can touch me all you like once i’m patched up. Lord knows we both need it like this blasted planet needs these crystals to die.” He confesses.
Who was Clive to say no?
“The Hideaway, I-“ Clive began.
“I know, love. I know. I figured… I figured somethin’ might’ve been up. We’re in the chapel near Martha’s Rest aren’t we?” Cid spoke up.
Clive nodded. “I think so. I haven’t left this room.”
“That’d explain the smell.” Cid jokes.
“That’s just you.” Clive teased.
“You know what I reckon I really COULD take you, Ifrit.” Cid raises his eyebrow. “Cocky little show off aren’t ya? I really can’t wait to put you in your place once these old bones get their rest. You won’t be walking for weeks.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Ramuh. I expect a Pile Drive to the founders and back.”
“And you be sure to tell them I said hi before you make your way back down to the surface.”
They both chuckle. Cid reaches over and caresses Clive’s cheek. He brushes past Clive’s bearer markings. Clive’s eyes shut with warmth and comfort as he welcomes Cid’s touch.
“That lass I told you and Jill about I know I couldn’t save her but.. you. I can.”
“You have.” Clive added, opening his eyes and smiling at Cid.
“Aye. I guess I have.” Cid smiles back.
“I didn’t realise that I needed someone to be there for me and to protect me as I was always the shield or the fighter. I didn’t realise I needed my own aegis but… I can think of none better than you.” He strokes Cid’s hand that’s embracing his face.