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daydreambouquet · 3 years

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Zack never survived the Nibel Reactor and therefore couldn't rescue Cloud from Hojo's clutches. From this single point of divergence, the story unfolds.

Better go get a cup of your favorite goddamn tea to drink while you read.

Preview of Chapter 20 - Rocket Town

Cloud watches Aerith from across the camp at midnight. Her latest exhibition of power leaves him uneasy. Inflicting paralysis without materia is a feat he’s only seen once before, on the cargo ship, when that phantom of Jenova froze him in place. During Barret’s tale of their harrowing escape from the Turks at the Nibel Reactor, Cloud had been the only one not smiling. The trio Barret described are Shinra’s elite, a scalpel when discretion and precision are essential. Nobody should have been able to flee the Turks like that.

Aerith had rescued them, again. Only this time, it was an offensive manifestation, not just healing winds.

He wonders what would happen if she ever turns that power against them. Against him.

Aerith tilts her head and peers in his direction amidst a wall of darkness. He looks away after catching her eyes. They are the only two awake, and it’s very quiet. The team has been taking watch in pairs, given the escalation of pursuit. She resumes her gaze upwards. The long braid sways down her back. It’s a clear night. They are still in the mountains, and paranoia is creeping over Cloud like rust. He opts to take the second and third shifts and keeps his attention honed on Aerith while she sleeps.

The night is uneventful. A few drones fly by overhead, but without a campfire the group remains inconspicuous.

In the morning, they discuss next steps. Bugenhagen had said the ancient temple is on an island, but with Shinra hot on their trail, commercial transit isn’t wise due to ID scans, and it’s unlikely anyone would charter them.

“So we steal a ship,” Yuffie says.

“And who would drive it?” Cloud asks. “You?”

“Steer. You steer a ship. And no, I don’t know how to steer a ship.”

Tifa stretches. “What about an airplane? Maybe we can convince a local to help us?”

Barret shakes his head. “With what? We got no gil, no reputation. And now there’s, what, eight of us? Ha, that’s a lot to transport in secret.”

Cloud agrees. Shinra will no doubt have all airspace locked down. Those hunter-killers are flooding the skies, and the nearest port for any overseas ships is Costa del Sol, which is very far.

“Got any more sudden reveals of vehicles?” he asks Cait Sith.

The cat, sadly, does not.

The mountains break into plains, verdant and endless. Everyone is nervous about the open space. In the distance, a bronze structure juts upwards, outlined by the bright blue sky. It appears to be an old rocket, complete with structural scaffolding, but at an angle that suggests it will never fly.

“Aha, Rocket Town!” Yuffie says.

Cloud’s heard of this. Yes, under Palmer, there was a Shinra space initiative. The funding dried up after launch failure, and the employees working on the project ended up spawning a town of sorts around the centerpiece of their abandoned work. The area has no formal designation, and he can’t remember the project name. It was somewhere in the archives at the Tower.

“No, that’s Shinra territory,” Cloud says. “We can’t go there.”

Even if Palmer is dead, presumably executed by the Turks, and space flight is indefinitely canceled, Shinra still has its claws in any company property.

“But there ain’t nothing else around,” Barret says. “Maybe a few of us sneak in an’ take a look. Grab some supplies. I’m hungry as hell.”

There are general murmurs of approval from all except Vincent, who doesn’t seem to care one way or another.

“Alright,” Cloud agrees. “Vincent and Yuffie should go with me. Barret, Tifa, you both are too high-risk. Scarlet is gunning for us, and your photos likely disseminated fastest in Shinra’s hive. Cait and Nanaki, what do you prefer?”

“I’m stayin’ here!” Cait Sith says. “I do not want to cross paths with Shinra. Sounds like a lot of bad luck.”

“I’ll remain as well. My unusual presence may draw attention,” Nanaki says.

“What about me?” Aerith pipes up.

The group turns to her. She’s standing with hands clasped, smiling sweetly. Cloud wants to keep her close. Keep an eye on her.

“Wanna come with us?” he asks.

She nods.

Vincent doesn’t seem thrilled to be on errand duty, but then again, he doesn’t seem particularly thrilled about anything except finding Hojo. Yuffie, however, is very interested in stealing from Shinra. She keeps talking about the best ways to scope out a target. Vincent, at one point, actually looks annoyed.

Cloud and Aerith don’t speak. He wants to tell her about the Jenova that’s linking them, to divulge his curious fear around her abilities, but he can’t seem to structure the questions in his head. He doesn’t want to push her away. That conversation needs to happen, just not right now.

Rocket Town doesn’t have any official entry or borders. A smattering of homes and shops encircle the dilapidated rocket, which seems an odd centerpiece of exalted decay. Shinra’s banners, though a faded older style, pepper the buildings. Aircraft hangars line the outskirts, and engineers work in the open air. Cloud recognizes several modules they are building as part of the Airbuster units, to be sent to Midgar for assembly.

Vincent comments on the advanced technology and shows surprise that Shinra would ever consider space travel.

“Weren’t biological interests enough?” he says.

The science division was severely defunded when Cloud had awoken. He tries to tell Vincent about Hojo’s complaints of corporate undermining, to which Vincent seems uneasy to hear how closely Cloud worked with Hojo.

“For Hojo. Not with,” Cloud specifies. Vincent says it’s all the same.

Yuffie runs off, excited for a heist which only she has in mind, while Cloud and Aerith count their gil. Vincent remains outside as the two purchase nonperishable food and supplies from a nearby shop. It’s not a lot.

As they exit, Vincent nods towards a middle-aged man with buzzed-short light blonde hair stalking through the center of town. The blonde is talking on the phone.

“That seems to be the de facto leader,” Vincent says. “He was ordering others around. They respect him.”

The man is scowling, furious with whoever is on the other line. Broad shoulders roll with agitation beneath his blue jacket. There’s no Shinra logo on his clothing, but that means nothing when Shinra owns the entire town.

“What do you mean the deadline’s been moved up!?” he shouts over the phone. “Are you fucking serious? I don’t give a shit about a professor who’s-it. There’s no way it can fly in such short notice.”

The man pulls a cigarette from his jacket and lights it. Then he covers his eyes with one hand, smoke trailing between two fingers.

“Those funds should be sent to the Space Program. Not hurried along on whatever grandiose plans you now have for my airship. My airship, which you confiscated!” He shoves a thumb at his chest for emphasis. Then he takes a long drag of his cigarette. “I know, I know,” he says, calming down a little. “Well, the war is over, and so I thought… Right…. Yes, sir…”

He snaps his PHS shut and curses. The new president is a total asshole, he says, and this deadline is idiotic. He shouts and paces and jabs the air with his fist. Apparently, this type of behavior is customary because nobody in town is staring.

Then he spots Cloud and Aerith and Vincent.

“What the hell you three looking at? You from HQ?”

He walks over. Cloud adjusts his footing. Vincent doesn’t budge. Aerith puts a hand on her hip.

“No, we aren’t from HQ,” she says. “We’re passing through. What’re you so upset about?”

The man laughs. “Upset about? Just that newbie, Rufus. Things were bad enough with the old President, and now I’ve got his brat crawlin’ up my ass about deadlines, and what the hell do you care? If you’re passing through, you better just keep on passin’. Ain’t nothing to see here, as you can tell.”

He flicks ash and juts his chin towards the failed rocket.

“So snap whatever photos you’ve come to take and get the hell out.”

Done with the conversation, the man stomps off.

“Wow,” Cloud says, watching him go.

“Not a fan of Shinra,” Aerith remarks.

#fanfiction #ff7 fanfic #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ao3 #zack dies earlier #cid highwind #cloud strife

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maniibear · 7 years

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chibisquirt replied to your post “Fending off post-vacation blues with a snippet of stony. prologue of a...”

Manibear, this is so goooood! I want the rest of it yesterday, of COURSE, but at the very least I'm dying to know what's going to happen!!! *dances*

THANK YOU L’IL WEIRDO! I mean, i have some stuff written w/ bucky but have since Given Up. However, since you are a bbarnes fan...voila! budding winteriron~

So, this is a thing that happens: Bucky resurfaces, and Tony arranges for him to come home with them.

Sitting in a private Stark Industries jet, staring at his old friend’s grim profile and the way Sam protectively clutches his jet pack, Steve figures that's a bit simplistic. In reality, a lot happened after Sam called to tell him about an incident at the UN and that the Winter Soldier had been named primary suspect. So, Bucky was suddenly wanted by several world governments and Steve had, unsurprisingly, been good and ready to punch his way out of it.

Thankfully, Tony had been there to put an end to that.

“That was a shit plan, Spangles,” he’d said, once they were ensconced in a fishbowl inside the CIA headquarters in Berlin.

Steve remembers looking up at Tony perched on the table, arms folded and dressed to succeed in an armor of the designer three-piece variety. He has the decency to feel a little abashed.

“I know, Tony,” he says, sincerely. “But Bucky was in danger and suddenly, I was a 16 year old kid in Brooklyn again.”

Tony had scoffed, not unkindly. He reached out, hovered over the healing bruise on Steve’s jaw that came from a thankfully aborted fight with German law enforcement. “You ok?”

Steve rolled his shoulders. It felt like shifting the burden instead of shedding it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good,” Tony replied and quickly got down to business. “Because we need to talk about Barnes’ pending trial—

“No,” Steve had protested immediately. “What trial—Tony, he didn’t do those things!"

“The attorney general’s got evidence, but—” Tony stood fast, held out a palm in warning when Steve opened his mouth to reject the claim. “I’ve got lawyers. Good ones. They can and will tear that shit apart in seconds.”

“Then, why is it even on the table?” Steve asked. “Tony, you read Bucky’s file; you read what HYDRA did to him. Now, they want to hold him responsible for…for what?"

"Suffering?” Tony answered. “Too much, too little? I don’t know. I do know you want nothing less than the absolute right thing, but I need you to work with me here.”

“Bucky’s an American soldier, a P.O.W,” Steve shook his head. “I’m not begging for table scraps from a bureaucracy that should do better by him.”

“Can you?” Tony challenged. “Do better by him? When we get back to the States, Barnes gets transferred to a psych ward. He gets help, high ground in this shit storm—what’s your plan?"

“Keeping him out of internment!” Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair. On a level, Tony was right; Bucky deserved better than upheaval, but there wasn’t an institution in the world that Steve trusted enough to just hand him over. He watched Tony stare back at him, silently, but Steve could hear the words in his mind just as loud as if they were spoken: what can I do, Cap?

“I’m sorry,” he offered, for what it was worth. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I can’t let go and hope for the best. He’s my closest friend.”

Those words, more than anything, seemed to change something in Tony. He cut his gaze away and fiddled briefly with his cufflinks

“We’re friends too,” Tony said finally. He sighed wearily, but his eyes were affectionate when he looked at Steve. “You’re a menace, Rogers, but I’ll see what I can do.”

And what Tony does is let them all fly home in a fancy jet like they're just getting back from vacation instead of a harrowing 24 hours that nearly ended in Captain America becoming a fugitive. Leaving Sam and Bucky to their own silent devices on the other side of the aisle, Steve glances sidelong at Tony in the seat right beside him. His tie is loose, his top buttons open, and one hand rubs absently at his chest.

“You ok?” Steve asks quietly.

Tony replies without opening his eyes. “Always."

Steve nods to himself, then reaches over to place his hand over the one on Tony’s chest. “I love you. Thank you."

Tony still doesn't open his eyes, but his lips tip endearingly upward.

Five hours later finds Steve ushering Bucky to dinner at the Avengers compound. A few team members are in town, and honestly, Steve is excited for them to meet. The only one he worries about, really, is Wanda. She’s an Avenger now, but Steve might be forgiven for being wary of mind control.

The dining room is sparse when they enter, occupied by Tony and Colonel Rhodes on one side, and Sam and Natasha on the other. Just the inner circle, then; Steve’s relieved.

Tony sees them first and beckons Bucky over. “Class, we have a new kid joining us today,” he says. “This is Bucky, he’s another exchange student from 1943. How ‘bout it? Wanna tell us about yourself?"

Steve bites his cheek to keep from laughing at the progression of expressions on Bucky’s face. And since he trusts this group enough, he leaves Bucky’s side to take his usual seat at the table and look up at his old friend expectantly himself. Bucky remains where he is, oscillating between confusion and suspicion until Rhodes takes pity and extends a hand.

“Sergeant Barnes,” he greets. “Jim Rhodes, glad to meet you."

“Colonel Jim Rhodes,” Tony adds and winks when Rhodes gives him a look. “Be proud, honey bear. Now for the rest of the munchkins, you already know Stevie; Nat is—"

“He knows me,” Natasha says smoothly. She glances up at Bucky as if daring him to say otherwise. He doesn’t.

“And your ass better know me,” says Sam, already spooning vegetables on to his plate.

Some tension rolls off Bucky’s shoulders. He saunters over to an empty seat on Tony’s other side, eyes pinned on a very unimpressed Sam Wilson. “I had to move six times because of you.”

Sam instantly counters with the shit times he had in Romania, dealing with grabby landladies and wannabe gangsters, and Tony leans over to Steve. “Well, how ‘bout that? First day is going well."

Dinner goes well. Subdued as he is and probably hyper aware of the history between everyone at the table, Bucky eventually falls into a certain kind of ease. Tony, who recognized a fellow little shit when he saw one, makes him laugh with more than a few artfully placed quips. Eventually, it doesn’t escape Steve that Bucky is sometimes the only one who laughs, even when everyone else groans in disbelief. By the time dessert rolls around, Tony’s shuffled his chair close to Bucky’s and they’re both viciously defending their opinion on certain stealth tech (that neither of them were supposed to know about) against Natasha and Sam’s (who also weren’t supposed to know about it). Steve is left to exchange a look of high strung exasperation with Colonel Rhodes, but nevertheless, it’s a good moment.

One that Steve is immensely happy for because that’s exactly when Bucky looks like himself. He idly strokes Tony’s fingers as the engineer says something outrageous that starts a mini riot around the table. Even Bucky openly grins around a bite of carrot stick, his whole body pivoted firmly in Tony’s direction.

Like most good things in life, the moment passes too soon. Steve stalls for as long as he can; he chats with Rhodes and Sam until they actually lock the doors to their respective vehicles and roll away; he begs Natasha for updates on the team, on the armory, on the least significant thing within his purview as leader of the Avengers. And when she shrugs him off with all the elegance in the world, he drags himself peevishly up the stairs to Bucky’s suite of rooms.

He’s slightly astonished at the sight that greets him there: Bucky is on the couch, metal arm sprawled out across Tony’s lap. Tony mutters something Steve can hear, but can’t make sense of, and makes a slow fist with his own hand. They both wince when Bucky mimics the move and his metal joints creak like a jalopy on its last legs.

Tony looks pained. “Ok, yeah, we need to upgrade that before it starts shedding parts.”

“You can really handle that?” Bucky asks. There’s something in his tone—not awe, not even curiosity, but it feels right at home with the way he and Tony smirk dryly at each other. Steve takes a measured breath, blaming his twisting gut on the sleek monitoring anklet blinking serenely on the coffee table.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a concerned dad, Steve,” Tony finally flicks his eyes up to the doorway. “Come and tell Manchurian Candidate here what a genius I am."

“It’s true, Buck,” Steve offers. “He can do quadratic—“

“Quintic."

“—polynomials in his head while trimming his nose hairs.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’d better not be trimming anything while touching my arm."

“Ooh sorry, guyliner, gotta at least buy me dinner before you get to tell me when to manscape.”

Surprisingly enough, Bucky doesn’t tense up under Tony’s casual flirting. Instead, he tilts his head, saying, “Oh, is that all?” and Steve suddenly flashes back to 1939 and his pre-military gig as a lump by Bucky’s side while his friend made eyes at every girl who gave him time of day. Logically, things are different now. Logically, Steve shouldn’t feel as jealous as he does, but his arm automatically hovers possessively by Tony’s shoulder and there goes logic.

Unaware of Steve's insides in knots, Tony rolls his eyes, “Barnes, you’re unemployed,” he says, albeit with fond amusement. “and I assume you were listening when the nice CIA agent explained the house arrest situation?”

“Tony!” Steve protests reproachfully, causing an awkward silence to descend just then. The fragile lightness of the mood dissipates and everyone’s gaze slides to the coffee table. Steve looks at the ankle monitor like it’s a dead rat, even though it’s the price of keeping Bucky in the compound instead of a federal nuthouse. The wrongness of it all makes him want to hit something.

“He wears it and checks in with an officer until all the charges against the Winter Soldier are dropped. That’s the deal." Tony reminds him. “Trust me, I’m not happy about it, either.” And Steve believes him, especially since the monitoring devices did take a brief detour to his lab before making it up here. ‘Tamper-proof’, the CIA had said, and no doubt Tony took it as a challenge.

He must have hesitated a second too long because Tony grabs the anklet and snaps it open. “Alright, Barnes, bad guy coming your way,” he jokes half heartedly.

Bucky rolls his eyes and pulls up his pant leg to expose his ankle. “You ain't a bad guy."

#chibisquirt #then tony blushes #steve also blushes #they ask bucky to marry them #he does #and they fondue all night long #that's it the end #bymani

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