Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Resurfacing	By : dreamsofcrows Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 686 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Four o’clock rolled into seven o’clock in the blink of an eye, and Cid sat up with a groan as the alarm clock went off right by his head. With a slap of the off button he stretched out, rolling out from under the sheets to rest his feet on the floor. The sun was breaking over the sky while he stood up and walked over to the closet to get changed. Reeve said he was supposed to call Cid that morning when he was ready to be picked up, but his PHS lay on the night stand, silent for the moment. The usual clothes were donned: his blue shirt, his khaki pants and hiking boots, and the jacket he tossed over the top of the kitchen chair as he walked to the fridge to pull out the carton of milk. It was cold in the Highwind house, and the sounds of the wakening hills and grasslands crept into it. With a sigh Cid opened the front door, stepping out into the mist of the early morning with milk carton in hand. Somewhere off to his right, a bob-white quail whistled, and Cid whistled back before he took a swig of the milk.
Rocket Town, in fact, was not built in the grasslands until after the rocket launch of Shinra 26 had failed. When the rocket had settled into an a leaning position that shifted over the years, the workers on the project had no where to go and nothing more to do. Some left, most didn’t. The grasslands around the support seemed like an ideal place to build a town, and so it happened. The new town, having no named, named itself after the rocket in the distance. Cid’s house was built next to the rocket, and though the launch DID fail Cid never resented where he lived. The new town, having no mayor, decided to make him one since he was the official Captain of the rocket. When he was young, the town was too. Only a few houses made it up, and as Cid aged so too, did it. More and more people moved in, more and more houses and trade stores went up. The town grew over time, and in his own way, so did Cid. Now, at 37 going on 38 years old, he stood on his front porch, looking through the mist into the town. HIS town. Vaguely he wondered if Shera and Vincent were awake yet.
Vince...now there was a man who confused him to no end. That man was as enigmatic as always, and even though the red mantle had long been abandoned, he still hid behind a cloak. Cid -thought- he was doing a good job of getting the man to open up- to live a little. He stepped off from the front porch and walked around the side of his house towards the back where the new and improved Tiny Bronco was, the backyard as misty as the rest. High above him the old rocket supports rested, small early morning birds twittering and fluttering to and fro on them. Cid thought he was doing so, SO well. The stiff demeanor was slowly being replaced by if not a happy, care free one then certainly a relaxed one, and smiles actually reached his eyes, if not his lips, now. He’d gotten him to go out, have fun, get him in a country bar for Gaia’s sake, and last night everything between the two of them had changed, all because Cid couldn’t mind his own business.
He walked out past the rocket supports, shivering slightly at the chill of the mist surrounding him. What was even more confusing was Cid and what he was feeling about the tall, beautiful gun man. When Cid had first met him, Vincent was nothing more than a back ground drop- something to look at when everyone else got boring. He was the tall, silent member of the party, his presence always known only when it needed to be. He was a pillar of intelligence who never needed to say anything to get his point across. When he spoke it was always something important, and he always said things with such eloquence. As beautiful as a painting and as deadly as a rattler, that’s how Cid would describe Vincent if he had to. The pilot thought he had everything worked out in his head about Vincent and how he felt about him. He was a friend, a buddy, a comrade, a person to talk to when he needed some sanity among an insane group, but nothing more than that. Not until a confusing recently. A swift movement in the grasses beyond his sight caused him to raise his head, eyes darting around through the mist. He thought he was alone, but obviously wasn’t. As he walked ahead a few steps, he could make out something dark flashing in the mist. He narrowed his eyes as he walked forward even more just enough to make out what it was. He realized that the flash of black he saw was actually a long black flag of hair, swishing as the person it belonged to moved in the mist. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vincent was glad to be alone so early in the morning. Mornings in Rocket Town, especially close to autumn he’d been told, were especially misty. He could hide in the mist; he could hide and think. He slowly moved his arm out, hand flat as the right arm gently came around, folding towards the left. He remained perfectly balanced on his feet, never moving from the same spot. It was an art from Wutai his mother had taught him at an early age, one that required a certain amount of grace to do properly. Grace, he found, came with time and a lot of practice. It was an art designed to channel energy in the body, to help a being come to a certain state of harmony inside themselves. He knew it as a Turk, and had practiced it every morning before a mission, and it had always worked to ease him into the day. Essentially, it was a calming agent that had yet to work for him .
He couldn’t stop thinking about his fight with Cid that morning, how he’d yelled and accused him and pushed him away, just like all of the other times he’d pushed people away before he’d come to work and live here. With a sigh he stopped and stood there, staring blankly out into the gray of the morning. It reminded him of mornings in Nibelhiem, the fog from the mountains rolling in, blanketing everything in gray and the cold. Even growing up in Wutai, he could remember nothing but gray mornings and gray nights from the mountains around the town. Suddenly he wanted color more than anything- he wanted green and gold grass, tall brown buildings....sky blue skies and sky blue eyes. He wasn't sure how he could face Cid after the previous night, but he had to sooner or later, and rather sooner than later. He turned where he stood to walk back to the house when he stopped, his body still in the mist.
Cid stood there, as if thinking about the pilot brought him here, blocking his way, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his khakis as he just watched the gunman. His face, normally bright and grinning, was placid and half lidded. The small smile he seemed to reserve only for Vincent wasn't on his face, replaced instead by another intense, studious look. How long had he been standing there? “...Highwind?”
"Morning."
“What are you doing out here?”
“Decided to take a walk around ‘til Reeve called me.” His smiled, lifting an eyebrow. “What’re YOU doing out here?”
“Tai-Chi.”
“Bless you.” Vincent ignored that small amount of humor, but was grateful for it. It meant not everything was ruined. “Why would Reeve be calling you?”
“I’m taking him to Edge, remember? For work for the W.R.O. He’ll probably be calling in the next five, an' if he doesn't his ass is walkin' .” The remark brought a temporary smile to his face.
“Oh.” Vincent had completely forgotten that Cid was leaving that day. He hadn't even thought about that, just the fight from that morning. “When will you come back?”
Cid shrugged. “Tonight, tomorrow, next week. Who knows? I just have to wait until he gets done with what he has to do. But I’ll call, every once in a while to how you an’ Shera are doing.” He was about to say something else when the phone he’d slipped into his pocket rang, and he pulled it out with an annoyed flick of his wrist. “Highwind....yeah, hey Reeve...alright, I’ll be on my way in five...gotcha. I’ll call ya when I’m in port.” With that he flicked the phone closed and stuck it back in his cargo pocket. “Gotta go. Walk with me?”
"Sure." Vincent shrugged, walking along with the pilot back towards the house. He was only vaguely aware of the distance Cid was keeping between them, the grass soft against his bare feet. Cid was leaving, and for an indefinite amount of time as well. He kept staring over at the pilot, wondering if he should say something but failing to come up with something TO say. They’d reached the house and Cid had disappeared inside of it, coming back out with a duffel bag around his shoulder minutes later.
“Taking the Highwind?”
"Yep."
“Oh. Well, remember that fuel gauge.”
Cid smiled a bit, shuffling on his feet once before he cleared his throat. “Well, gotta go, Vince. See ya when I get back.” He gave the briefest of smiles before he slipped by the gunman, shoulders bumping slightly before Cid disappeared back into the mist. Vincent couldn’t SEE him anymore but he could hear him, the way his footsteps crunched on the grass. It must have been a good half an hour before Vincent could hear the roaring of the plane engines coming to life, the plane running down the run way before the yell of the engines filled his ears during the ship’s take off. The wind settled down around the house, and Vincent stood there, still staring out into the gray mist surrounding the house. Just like that, in half an hour Cid was gone, and Vincent was standing there on the porch, all alone as the sun rose in all the colors he wanted to see behind the gray in front of him, and all of his blue and the words he wanted to say gone.
Cid left Monday, the 23rd. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday all drug by in a horrible negative five miles per hour speed. It was now Saturday, the 28th when the phone rang, Shera picking it up on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey baby! How’s everything in the sticks?”
Shera smiled, cradling the phone on her shoulder as she sorted through the laundry. “Heya Cid, we’re doin- well, I’M doing fine over here. How’s everything in Junon?”
“Fine. What do you mean YOU’RE fine over there? What’s wrong with Vince?” Over the phone the happy voice dropped to one of sheer annoyance mixed with concern.
Shera leaned out of the laundry room, looking into the kitchen where Vincent sat at the table. His eyes were half lidded and glazed over, slumped over with his head on his arm as with the other one he flicked a small rubber ball he'd found towards the wall, catching it flawlessly as it came back to him. Shera watched him do it over and over in a bored stare. She ducked back into the laundry room, shaking her head. “Well, there’s nothing WRONG with him, per say, he’s just....” she looked back out of the room an then back in the room, sighing. “He’s bored out of his mind without you here.”
“What the hell is he doing every day?”
“That depends on how bored he is. Like yesterday he went through the entire tool shed and rearranged everything by the tool brand. I swear, he could be a librarian if he wanted to. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is back in place before you get home. The day before that he disassembled and put back together his gun five times, convinced he'd 'missed something 'the time before.”
“ He would...no, don’t worry about the tools, he’d just redo it over again. That’s just how he is. Well..I just wanted to call and tell you I should actually be home tomorrow, but no promises.”
“Why not?” She lifted a brow, tilting her head slightly to the side. “
"I don’t wanna get hopes up and be delayed tomorrow and get you all disappointed.”
"Mmm, alright. Well, you wanna talk to him?”
“....sure.” Cid waited over the phone while he heard Shera hand the phone over, a sigh coming from what must be Vincent.
. “Hello?”
“Heya Vince.”
Vincent’s eyes snapped open as the ball bounced against the wall and hit the floor when he didn’t catch it. “Highwind, how's everything?"
“Whoa whoa whoa! One question at a time! I’m fine, Junon’s fine, Reeve’s fine, yeah I’m in Edge and I did meet up with the rest of the gang. I heard from Shera you were bored out of your skull over there.”
“She let me in the tool shed the other day and I think I made her mad by messing with all the wrenches.”
“She’ll get over it. Hey listen...I gotta go, Reeve needs to talk to me ‘bout something, alright?” Cid paused over the phone, ignoring the confused look Reeve was giving him from across the side of the room.
"Alright." Vincent held back a sigh as his lifted expression dropped, replaced with the same disappointed and bored look from before. “I guess....I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”
“Right. See ya round Vince.” With that the phone went dead, and Vincent stood there, staring down at a ringtone. ~~
"I'd like it if you would stop using me as an excuse to not talk to your wife." Reeve's voice was meant to be serious, though the small smile on his face ruined the effect.
"It's not that. Just talkin' to Vince." He stuffed the PHS in his jacket pocket, laying his hand back on the ships wheel.
"I thought you would want to talk to Vincent." Reeve lifted an eyebrow.
"I do, and I did. S'just I've got some thinking to do before I land."
"About what, if I can ask?" Reeve crossed his arms, watching his friend and pilot with fixed curiousity.
"Roads."
"Building some new ones in town?"
Cid blinked in confusion at Reeve before he finally caught on to what the President had said. "Oh oh oh, yeah. A few. But they might be rough, kinda...bumpy."
"Well, as long as you choose the right place to lay them you should be f- what?" Reeve stopped as Cid started laughing.
Cid could see the sleepy town below him growing closer and closer as the Highwind neared the ground. The sun hung high in the sky and the dust cloud from the engines clouded the area around the bridge, settling down only after the engines were turned off. He glanced down at his watch- noon on the dot. If the whole town, including Vincent, wasn’t aware that the ship and the crew was back, he didn’t know when it would. The sunlight was blinding as the cargo hatch opened, the wind ripping through the town and tossing open his jacket, his shirt pressed against his chest. It felt good to be back here, back in his town, HIS town, where he belonged. From the stretch of the runway he could see his house, Shera standing in the back yard hanging up clothes. It seemed she was always doing laundry. The sun beat down on his back as he walked towards the house, waving back at Shera as she waved to him. “Hey mister.” She smiled, leaning into the kiss on her cheek. “How was the trip?”
“Long, and boring. Where’s...?”
“He’s in the kitchen, arranging dishes.” Shera tilted her head towards the back door, shaking her head. “Waiting for you to get back.”
Cid smirked, lifting an eyebrow down at her. “If I’m not back in five, Vince’s killed me and chopped me up into tiny pieces and stuck me in the bread drawer.” He reached for the handle, Shera shaking her head. As he stepped inside, he shut the door softly, stepping on tip toes towards the kitchen. A smile crept onto his face as he saw Vincent intensely staring down at an old and chipped plate that had different colors of blue. Maybe he was trying to figure out which pile to put it on in the cabinet. Cid shook his head, and snuck up behind the man to whisper into his ear. "Bored?”
It was with some satisfaction on his part that he saw Vincent fumble with the plate, nearly dropping it on the ground as he turned to face Cid. "Highwind! When did you get back?"
"About five minutes ago." He leaned over to peer into the cabinet, laughing as he saw the small amount of plates, bowls and cups they owned neatly stacked according to color and size. "Shera was right, you have been restless."
"Somewhat." Vincent sat the plate down on a pile inside the cabinet and shut the door softly.
"Well, leave that alone and come help me take care of the ship. Later tonight, we need to talk."
Vincent looked at Cid, really looked at him for the first time. His face was as serious as it had ever been, and there was a small crease between his eyes. Reluctantly he followed Cid out of the back door and towards the hanger. This was either going to make things better, he decided, or much, much worse.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Resurfacing