wallwalker: A large man driving while a woman looks on. Text: "Are we there yet?" "NO." (maybe you should drive)
[personal profile] wallwalker posting in [community profile] personalapocalypse
Title: Burying His Mistakes
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Barret/Tifa, Dyne (sort of)
Warnings: Spoiler for Barret's storyline, but not much else. Mention of a burial.
Summary: Barret does right by his old friend.
Notes: I deleted this one, so here it is again. Written for [community profile] fic_promptly.

---

The flowers weren’t real; real flowers would dry up to dust in the desert, with no magic to keep them fresh and lovely. They were pretty though, white silk tied and sewn into spikes of blossoms, tipped with pink. Tifa thought that even Aeris would approve, especially in a place like this.

She and Barret had worked mostly in silence, digging the makeshift grave. There wasn’t much left of Dyne to bury; they’d found the tattered remnants of his old shirt, wrapped around a few scattered bones. The rest had probably been lost to scavengers, human or otherwise. So they had locked what little they’d had in a small box, and buried it as deeply as they could before setting up the gravestone.

It was a simple memorial. It had little more than the man’s name, and a few dates, and the white silk flowers laid in front of it.

Barret still didn’t say much. Tifa thought that he was out of words, after what he’d told her just after their escape from this place, when it had been a prison. “Dyne an’ me... we were close,” he’d told her. “We’d grown up together. I’d always figured we’d grow old together too, sitting outside, watching our kids grow up th’ same way...” And Tifa could see how hard his fist was clenched, knuckles straining under the rough skin. “I made a big mistake, Tifa. I shoulda looked for him as soon as I heard about him. If I had, maybe things wouldn’t have ended up like this. Maybe I could’ve helped him.”

She’d taken that to heart more than he’d known, she thought. Yes, maybe the Highwind had given her an unfair advantage, but there were a few times when no one had known anything about where Cloud might be, and she’d nearly given up. But when she thought about it she thought about Barret, staring off into the distance, hating what he’d had to do to stop his childhood friend from destroying everything she’d cared about. Cloud was her childhood friend, even if they hadn’t been as close as Barret and Dyne had been, and she had known she couldn’t let anything like that happen to him. Someday, she would thank Barret for reminding her of that.

Not then. This moment... it wasn’t about her.

Barret hung the dogtags over the simple monument. They didn’t know how long it would last; it was stone, but the desert was constantly shifting, and it might end up lost in a few years, just like Dyne’s remains. But it was something. And maybe they could come up with something better later, if they wanted. For now, though... the dogtags were safe, at least. Even if any of the prisoners came back, the respect they’d had for Dyne had been almost religious in its fervor. They wouldn’t dare disturb his grave. Barret and Tifa were both sure about that.

“Hey,” he started, then turned away. Tifa could see his face, the tears in his eyes.

She put one hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said softly.

“I know,” he answered, but gratefully, at least. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Dyne,” he finally managed again, and she saw him blinking back tears. “Sorry this took me so long.”
From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Profile

personalapocalypse: an alien sky on a quiet shore (Default)
Personal Apocalypse

June 2016

S M T W T F S
   1234
567 891011
1213141516 1718
19202122232425
2627282930  

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 22nd, 2017 10:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios