Chapter Text
After the first time he touches the Arete Stone, Clive forgets about it soon after. The training ground within the strange Fallen pillar isn't something he requires with the bustle of the Hideaway, since there's always a task that needs done or an errand that needs run. With Cid's penchant for finding monster-filled shortcuts to send him down under the guise of avoiding detection by Imperial patrols, he has no shortage of real battles to fight in the field without needing to resort to practice bouts against artificial goblins no stronger than the ones he met back in Rosaria when he was barely a Shield.
He clears the stone from his mind so completely that when next he's pulled in, it's as accidental as it was the first time. Following a discussion with Charon about the supplies they'll need for their upcoming trip to Drake's Head, he's on his way to the kitchen to see if Kenneth needs any assistance with deliveries during the lunch rush. A large group of well-fed Cursebreakers hurrying from their meal to a mission has Clive quickly sidestepping and his back presses against the Fallen stone. There's a faint blue light and his entire world shifts.
The inside of the stone is different now than it was the first time he entered it. The training ground he saw before is still present, but there are several other paths branching off in other directions, the nearest leading into a forest. Curious, and with nothing especially pressing to pull him back into the real world, Clive moves towards the trees for a closer look.
Birdsong greets him first, as hard ground gives way to soft grass and the sweet scent of nature. The woods close in and surround him, drawing him into their depths until the crossroads inside of the stone completely falls away and there's nothing left but rocks and trees. It seems the Arete Stone has teleported him to this forest as the Fallen obelisks do, though he doesn't yet see a corresponding stone to take him back to the Hideaway. That might be cause for concern, depending on where exactly the strange Fallen technology has taken him.
A bloodfly buzzes around Clive's face and he swats at it.
"Bastard bloodflies everywhere!" Cid's voice comes from right beside him, and Clive startles violently.
"Cid! Where the hell did you come from?"
Cid doesn't answer or turn, so Clive walks around to face him, but the other man remains standing almost perfectly still. He breathes and he blinks but he doesn't say anything more or meet Clive's eyes. Minutes drag by as Clive tries to get Cid's attention, and each second unnerves him more than the last as he's ignored so thoroughly by someone he considers to be a friend. There must be something wrong, but he can no longer see any sign of the path he took originally, nor any other way back to the Hideaway. He has no idea where they are or how far he would need to travel to find help.
In growing panic, Clive replays their brief interaction before Cid froze in his mind, and, through the fog of his worry, he realizes the whole situation has a strange air of déjà vu.
Clive has always had a good memory, which has been more a curse than a blessing most of his life, as he's relived the Night of Flames over and over in the most vivid detail. He's certain he's been to this place with Cid before. Certain he's heard Cid complain about bloodflies before. He looks down at his own hands and sees he's once more wearing the gloves of an Imperial assassin instead of the gauntlets of a Rosarian noble. He looks at the trees and the slant of the sunlight and thinks he might understand what this is.
The stone can conjure enemies he's fought before from nothingness, so maybe he hasn't been teleported to this oddly familiar forest at all. If that's the case, he has an inkling of what Cid might be waiting for.
"I told you we should have taken the Crystal Road," Clive ventures cautiously.
Cid turns away to where Clive had been standing when he first entered the forest. "And I told you that we're outlaws," he replies, and Clive has to dodge quickly out of the way to avoid being bowled over when Cid walks forward as though no one is standing in front of him. The older man climbs over the log lying across the path ahead and stops again on the other side, arm resting on his swords as he waits once more for Clive's response.
Clive relaxes, his concern for Cid slipping away as he realizes the stone has only conjured him an ally for this exercise. It seems this is another sort of training ground, then. One that should be filled with more worthy enemies than goblins, if it is a complete reconstruction of the Greatwood in his memory.
The potential the Arete Stone now holds is staggering. What other battles might he be able to relive? Could he use it to fight again as Ifrit? An opportunity to gain some skill and experience with his Eikon before next testing its might against a true enemy would make this a much more useful tool than what he'd found in the stone the first time he entered.
While he's eager to see what other possibilities exist, Clive still isn't sure how to actually leave this simulated Greatwood now that he's entered it. The only option seems to be to continue forward and see where this exercise ends. Doing so will also allow him to ensure that this area of the stone truly is what he believes before he ventures on to something more difficult.
Decided, he steps up onto the log and repeats the words he'd said when he stood upon it before, as though his musings about the Deadlands and nature were a passcode instead of his honest thoughts at the time. He drops back down to meet Cid again, swatting at another fly. For all he's now certain this isn't real, the bites still sting true to life.
"We'll be back in Imperial lands soon," Cid says, and Clive must have been following closely in the footsteps of his past self, because when Cid reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder, the older man's palm meets its mark. "You all right?"
Clive knows he needs to answer for them to continue on with this test, but the words stick in his throat. Cid's eyes on him are filled with such obvious care and concern that it ties a knot within him. They'd only just met, when they went to the Greatwood, how could Cid possibly already look so invested in him? His hand on Clive's shoulder is a welcome weight, for all he knows it's artificial, and he wonders how accurate this world in the stone is. This Cid breathes and speaks, but does he have a heartbeat? Would his touch be warm, if Clive could feel it through his armour?
He shakes his head to clear it and tries to tear his gaze away, but finds he can't entirely. Cid is magnetic, and when he's staring so completely focussed on Clive, the younger man is helplessly unable to do anything but gaze back. It's rare to find Cid so still. He's always talking or smoking or pacing around unnecessarily. The details of him are often lost to the distractions of his words and motions, and Clive can't resist taking this opportunity to really look at him while his defenses are down.
This close, Clive can see that his concerned eyes are as green as the foliage surrounding them, as though Cid himself is a part of nature's splendour. Their heights are similar, but Clive's surprised to find he's a little bit taller than Cid is, when he remembers looking up at the man the first time they passed through these woods. Clive's shaken off some of the weight of the brand since then, it seems. He's lost the slump in his shoulders and stands tall once more.
The bright sunlight filtering through the trees is unforgiving and it catches on the first few grey strands that have begun to sprout in Cid's otherwise sandy hair. Clive wonders at Cid's actual age. Older than Clive is, certainly. By at least a decade, or maybe even as many as two. Cid has a timeless quality that makes it difficult to tell, with both the boundless energy of youth and the experience of age. Now that he's still, he's lost the smokescreen his constant movement affords him and there's something more worn and thin about his appearance that makes him seem older. It begs the question of when Cid last let himself sleep or last ate something more than one of those noxious apples abundant at the Hideaway.
Cid constantly busies himself taking care of everyone, but Clive isn't sure who takes care of Cid. Who it is that ensures he doesn't get too caught up in the responsibilities weighing heavy on his shoulders and remembers things like eating and sleeping. Tarja tries, he thinks, as well as Otto, and even Gav, but Cid barely allows it from any of them, that Clive has seen. He never really drops his guard even amongst his closest friends and most trusted allies, always blowing off their concerns with know-it-all quips and evasion.
Frozen like this, Cid can't hide any of the strain and Clive suddenly, achingly wants to help. He wants to erase the lines of age and exhaustion and worry from Cid's face now that he's paused for long enough that Clive can clearly see them. He thinks maybe he could convince Cid to let him do it, too, with the amount of care he sees mingled with the concern in those eyes. More care than Clive is has seen from anyone other than Jill since his childhood, and at this point Cid had only known him for a few days. What would he see in Cid's eyes now, if the other man were to pause and allow his gaze to linger?
In the time he's spent staring, Clive's found himself leaning in towards the other man. Already, he's more than halfway to closing the small distance between them. He takes a slow, deep breath to steady himself and as near as they are, he can smell the cigar smoke that clings to Cid. His traitor mind wonders if he would be able to taste it in Cid's mouth if he were to kiss him, here in this world of the stone.
The thought comes out of nowhere, blindsiding him as his mind takes the dream a step too far in this strange, unreal forest with this unresponsive, artificial Cid. He snaps out of his reverie and moves back to a more appropriate and companionable distance, dropping hands that have risen up unbidden back to his sides.
"Never better," he chokes out, and he's as relieved as he is disappointed when Cid finally looks away.
-
Still unsure of how to leave, and also still hoping to examine the Arete Stone's potential as a training ground, Clive gathers his wits about him and continues on with a newfound determination to keep his interactions with Cid strictly professional. No more staring at him, and certainly no touching.
Torgal joins them, and Cid continues their friendly banter. Clive learns that only some of their conversations are required to progress his memory as they travel through the forest, and often giving no reply at all doesn't cause his companions to pause. Even with his resolve to keep his distance from the artificial Cid, Clive still finds himself responding when he doesn't need to, as much out of habit as because he simply enjoys talking to the other man whether he's real or not.
The monsters that attack them are no more difficult or plentiful than Clive remembers from the first time they came here, and with Garuda's winds added to his flame, Cid's lightning, and Torgal's teeth, the three of them make quick work of anything that stands in their way. Some of the battles against the wolves and living undergrowth are so simple that Clive is able to stand back to watch Cid and Torgal fight on their own, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of his allies in the heat of battle. He promised himself he wouldn't stare again, but it's still Cid who mainly draws his eye, if only because he's spent less time with him than he has with Torgal. Or so he tries to convince himself.
Cid tends towards offense on his right in defense of his left, which may prove useful to know, assuming the real Cid displays the same favouritism. He only ever draws one of his two swords, and Clive would almost believe that the second one is intended to be a spare, except that his style of fighting is better suited to two weapons than it is to one. Perhaps he only lets loose with both in more harrowing situations.
It becomes clear very quickly that Cid doesn't have many weaknesses for Clive to note. For all the obvious exhaustion that he had noted in Cid's face earlier in the Greatwood, the man storms across the battlefield in quick strikes of steel and levin that Clive can't help but admire. Watching him battle threatens to distract Clive from his purpose once more, and he forces himself to rejoin the fray.
After felling what feels like hordes of low-skilled enemies, they at last come to the armoured beast from the North and Clive prepares himself for a proper challenge. The first time they battled the great beast, Clive had barely been able to keep his feet by the end of it, out of breath and leaning on his sword for support.
This time when they engage the monster, he's surprised to find that they quickly wear it down without any issue. Cid and Torgal are created from his memory, and so they must approach the battle the same as they did back then. It's difficult for Clive to believe that he himself could have improved so much in only a few weeks, even with the addition of Garuda's magic. He wonders how much the regular meals and full nights of rest at the Hideaway may be the true cause of his enhanced performance.
The beast rises back up for its last gasp, and Clive easily dodges the blow, rolling back to his feet ready to parry another attack only to find that his opponent has frozen mid strike. A glance at the surrounding area shows that Cid and Torgal have also stilled and Clive's confused what's stopped them for a moment before he realizes that the stone is waiting for him to speak.
"Oh, come on," he says without any of his original exasperation.
"Stand back!" Cid yells, urgent in a way that's almost comedically unnecessary with the ease of the battle this time around. Rather than heeding him, Clive turns to watch him semi-prime, unafraid of the rush of static that races across his skin. In spite of his warning, Clive's certain that even this artificial Cid wouldn't let his lightning bring an ally to any harm.
Cid gathers Ramuh's power, then slams his fist into the ground as though he needs to channel out some of the electricity coursing through him or it would overwhelm even its master. When he stands again, his hair is entirely white beneath the bright purple lightning that's enveloped him. The green of his eyes has been replaced with crackling bright blue aether and, irrationally, Clive wants that battle-ready gaze to turn away from their enemy and fall on him.
Everything about Cid when he's in this state is barely contained, from the lightning dancing on his skin to the arrogant set of his shoulders to the hard expression on his face. The look is surprisingly good on one who normally wears easy going control like a comfortable jacket, and Clive's mouth is dry at the sight of him. Every other time he's seen Cid call on Ramuh like this, they've been in dire, life threatening situations. It's the first time Clive's had the liberty to watch without more pressing concerns to distract him.
All resolve to keep his use of the Arete Stone professional flies from his mind and he wants to freeze time again so he can look his fill. But there's nothing he's meant to say here and Cid calmly raises a hand without pause. At the snap of his fingers, the monster is eradicated, and as quickly as it began, it's done. Cid releases his hold on Ramuh and begins coughing as though the rush of aether has punched the breath right out of his lungs.
When Cid recovers, Clive knows that he's meant to speak. He's supposed to be shocked at this first real glimpse of his companion's Eikonic abilities, but now that he's let himself start again, he can't bring himself to stop watching Cid. Ramuh's Dominant doesn't look like a man who's decisively won a battle. Instead, he's staring down at his glove with dread so strong it seems he might be ill. Clive didn't take notice of Cid's reaction after the battle the first time, overcome with surprise as he was. Curious, he moves in close to Cid's side and follows the other man's gaze to his palm.
Dark blood is streaked across his hand and something inside of Clive twists violently because he suddenly recalls that Cid is suffering. How could he have forgotten? Cid isn't just exhausted from lack of sleep or from taking care of the whole Hideaway; Cid's body is failing him, for all he's trying not to draw attention to it. Clive hadn't known back when they travelled through the Greatwood together, but he has known the truth of the curse lurking in Cid since his first trip to Martha's Rest. He's just been too wrapped up in his own problems to ever consider its meaning.
Feeling numb, Clive removes his glove and slips his fingers under the open sleeve of Cid's jacket before he can think better of it. His bare skin is warm like Clive thought it might be, pulse racing in his wrist from the adrenaline of battle. In other circumstances, even this small contact might have brought heat to Clive's face, so rare has any kind of intimate touching been in his life, but he doesn't have to reach far before his fingers find a patch of rough texture that turns his blood cold. He presses lightly against the stone in Cid's arm and there's no give to it at all, that tiny piece of him already completely dead and gone.
Clive snatches his fingers back quickly, vision blurring and heart pounding. Even someone like Cid is a slave to fate, it seems.
"You're a Dominant," he finally says as he's meant to, voice tinged with despair instead of wonder.
Cid just about flinches, looking away from where Clive is and where Clive was as though he can't meet his eyes in this fantasy world built from memory any more than he could in their real lives. "I am, aye," he admits to one truth, then wipes his hands together to erase the evidence of another. He lights a cigar to clear the taste of blood from his mouth and walks as he explains what little he's willing to, his masterful misdirection working its magic to completely distract Clive's past self from the pain on display right in front of him.
Of course Cid only ever uses one of his swords, even though his style of fighting is better suited to dual wielding. Of course he favours his cursed left side in battle, taking the offensive only on his right. Of course he only calls upon Ramuh's power and semi-primes in situations so grim that he sees no other choice. If this Greatwood in the stone is created from Clive's memories, then everything he's seen today was there before. Clive just never managed to piece everything together properly to create the whole picture. How many other clues to Cid's struggle has Clive missed during their travels together?
Instead of the old guilt, Clive feels a surge of the new determination that's been with him since returning to the Hideaway from Eastpool. He won't be fooled by Cid's evasiveness and misdirection anymore. The Hideaway is Clive's home now, and he's going to shield it and all of its residents from harm. Including Cid. Especially Cid. He'll destroy the Mothercrystals and protect the whole of the Twins, if he has to. He's going to become strong enough Cid won't ever need to call on Ramuh, because Clive will always be there first with Ifrit.
He walks around to where Cid has stopped again, the cigar in his hand strangely smoking without burning down as it waits for time to start up again same as the man who holds it.
"You are not going to die from the curse, if I can help it," Clive promises this artificial version of the man he's swearing the oath to. "Do you understand me, Cid?"
Cid doesn't react. He won't, not until Clive says what he's supposed to and asks Cid to explain his reason for protecting Bearers and Dominants, not realizing back when they made this journey together that the older man is one of the few altruists of the world. Cid's face is drawn and his eyes are lowered, as though he's still unwilling to meet Clive's gaze, and for the second time since entering this version of the Greatwood, Clive reaches for him without fully knowing what he means to do.
The world tilts.
"Can you hear me, Clive?"
Suddenly, Cid is gone and Clive's back in the main hall of the Hideaway. The Cursebreakers he'd moved out of the way for are long gone and in their place Gav stands in front of him, a hand on Clive's arm and a concerned look on his face. The sun has moved, shining through the roof at a different angle than it was before, and Clive must have spent hours standing here, lost in the world of the stone.
"I can hear you, Gav," he says.
Gav releases him and sags with obvious relief. "Bloody hell, you are in there," he says, "Thought I was going to have to go get Tarja for a minute."
"That won't be necessary," Clive assures quickly, eager to stay out of the infirmary when he has no actual need of it. Tarja is busy enough as it is.
His eyes are drawn back to the stone, standing tall and unassuming amongst the other Fallen architecture littered throughout the main hall. After Cid and Jill, Gav is probably the person he trusts most at the Hideaway, but still Clive hesitates a moment before asking the question on his mind. "Do you know anything about this stone?"
Gav places a hand on the Arete Stone and eyes it dubiously. "Just looks like another piece of Fallen junk to me." He frowns at Clive, likely sensing there's something more behind the question. Gav has a nose for these things, as Cid is fond of telling everyone. "You sure you're all right?"
Even with a hand on the stone, Gav hasn't been drawn into it, so it must be something to do with Clive himself that makes it work. His magic, maybe? Or possibly it's something to do with being a Dominant that allows him to enter the strange training grounds. "I'm fine, Gav," he says in answer to the other man's question. "I must have just drifted off." The excuse sounds like an unlikely lie even to Clive's own ears, but he doesn't know how else to explain, when the truth is something even he doesn't understand.
"Didn't know Imperial soldiers could literally sleep on their feet." The response is sarcastic, but there's no real heat in it. With Gav, there almost never is. "You need to get some proper rest, mate," he adds, clapping a hand once more on Clive's arm.
"I will. Thank you, Gav." As always, the younger man shies under the sincerity of Clive's gratitude and his words cause Gav to quickly retreat into the Fat Chocobo.
Clive looks back at the stone for a moment, but decides to remain true to his word and head back to his quarters before he goes in again. He has a lot of work ahead of him, if he's going to make good on his oath as he intends.