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[FFXIII+DC Comics] Coming Into Focus
Title: Coming into Focus
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII (crossover with DC Comics)
Relationships: Tom Bronson/Maxine Hunkel, platonic Tom+Cid, platonic Tom+Rydgea (mention only)
Summary: Tom didn't question the Powers That Be when he got his request to go home! In retrospect, that may have not been the best idea.
Notes: Written for Azi! ♥ This was the result of us being silly and joking around, but the fic itself ended up being more serious in tone. idek how. As for the AU itself--most DCU people exist, but Tom's the only l'Cie--and obviously, no one is a superhero.
Every time he descended the Lindblum and took that first step into town, Tom couldn't help taking in a deep breath. Something about the smog of the railways and the luxury of the people seemed to scream 'welcome home' and casually embrace him in its own way. His peers back home thought him crazy for preferring the city life. Why should he return home, when those nasty Pulse l'Cie might rampage through town and kill people?
Tom usually ignored their (ridiculously ignorant) protests. If Raines allowed them to fly alongside them and fight beside them, then they surely weren't as bad as everyone claimed. Besides, he'd wanted this break for months. Timing had just been rough, between the Pulse l'Cie being branded and the Sanctum going batshit - his words, not Raine's - over the subsequent events. He didn't want to think about leaving then, especially since Raine's bosses might question the leave of one of their top statisicians and tacticians.
Somehow, Tom had thought about a short break, and for reasons beyond his comprehension, the Powers That Be had granted his request for a weekend visit in Palumporum. For the rest of the week, despite their losses, Tom couldn't help that ridiculous grin on his face. He was going home! He could see Maxine again, tell her how much he loved her, actually carress her with kisses in person instead of those awkward texts he had to send while he was away... Work was rewarding enough, but the mere thought of home - with Maxine waiting - tempted him to consider a life away from numbers and statistics and battlefield maps.
He had to remind himself, he was only on vacation. One short, sweet vacation where he could spend hours with Maxine and hours with his father in the Boxing arena and minutes saying hello to Mom in the graveyard and asking her how she's doing in Heaven. Tom just couldn't consider quitting now, not when he had more to lose than he had to gain.
Something about the city life made his shoulders lighter and his steps breezier. City people never had to worry about numbers of soldiers or the presentations made to Raines or the steps they had to take to ensure that they wouldn't cause someone else to die in the field. Sure, they had their own worries, but even Tom couldn't help noticing that theirs were the kind that alcohol and smoke could drown out. His? No matter how many cans of beer he downed in an hour, Tom still couldn't get drunk enough to forget. Some sorrows were just too deep to forget.
He shook his head, partially to shake the negativity from his mind, before waving good-bye to his colleagues and taking that final step into the "real world." Glancing down at his train ticket, he pocketed it and moved forward. If he continued his brisk pace, then he could probably make the next train in ten minutes... and then he'd be home. He licked his lips at the mere thought of Maxine's cooking.
What he wouldn't give for something home-cooked. He'd tried a couple of times, on the Lindblum, but his cooking was sub-par. Nothing to write home about, but it wasn't nothing that people complained about for weeks on end either. As Rydgea once put it, "Bronson, you just aren't meant to master some things."
That rather lengthy list had somehow expanded to include fighting - he could defend himself, sure, but actually hitting someone didn't register in his brain - as well as public speaking. For not the first time in his life, Tom had been incredibly grateful that the Sanctum hired him to work as a behind the scenes person. He could deal with numbers and graphs and charts much more than he could deal with people. As usual, Tom preferred to weave through the throngs of people rushing home rather than to chart his own path; he'd arrive home soon enough.
Casually passing by a tall, neatly-dressed black-haired man, Tom couldn't help glancing over his shoulder at the guy again before continuing to walk. That guy... Tom knew he couldn't be Commander Raines, but the similarities were jarring. Suddenly, memories flooded back to the surface, of that first awkward moment when he introduced himself to Commander Raines, Tom preferred to stay in the realm of small talk. Their worlds didn't collide in that perfect crash; rather, it felt like they were airships passing in the middle of the night. They weren't like small-town people who could find a conversation out of everything, nor were they like childhood friends who'd known each other for forever. Tom knew he might be kidding himself if he considered Raines a friend. As it was, Raines was his boss. They couldn't ever be equals.
And yet, some days, Tom wondered if he'd been kidding himself about everything. Separated from the Calvary life, everything came squarely into Focus. He could see his colleagues cheering him on after a rough game of billards or poker; he could see Rydgea trying to coerce him into starting bar fights, "just to liven things up,"; and he could even see Raines attempting to reach out, in his own way. Maybe Tom'd been a fool to try and keep the boss-employee barrier as high as he did.
Pushing his ticket into the turnstile, he passed through and studied the signs carefully. He had to make it to Platform 8 in order to reach home... and yet, the moment he found his platform, a "Out of Order" sign greeted him. Tom sighed, casually scratching the back of his head before pushing himself towards the train directory. Had the l'Cie been through town yet? Usually, they left miles of ruins and desctruction in their wake---almost immediately after the thought popped into his head, Tom mentally chided himself. What did he know about l'Cie?
They couldn't be responsible for train maintanence workers' douchebaggery and halting his visit home. Especially since the rest of the station looked as pristine as ever. Heaving a sigh, Tom turned and started to walk out. He had to think of another method to arrive home - especially since the train wouldn't be fixed for another week - but at the moment, he couldn't come up with anything. He might have to rent a taxi or just walk the rest of the way...
Or maybe the sewers were still open. No one really talked about the sewers and its underground passages, but locals like Tom could easily navigate through the passageways. Maxine might question it when he returned home - because seriously, the sewers stunk - but he had no other options awaiting him. Without hesitation, he turned and exited the station to find one of the more-accessible entrances. Glancing around once, then twice, to make sure that no one could see him, Tom then carefully knelt down and opened the door before jumping down.
Years of Boxing experience and parkour hadn't helped him as much as he thought it would. Instead, his childhood knowledge of each passageway and how to move from one end to the other became more useful. Memories of dragging Maxine, Courtney, and Billy through these passages rushed to the surface and nearly overwhelmed him. He could even smell Billy's ridiculous cologne - he thought lavender was manly - and Courtney's freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies as he passed by the sewer workers.
Casually waving to some of the monsters, they acknowledged him with a nod before allowing him to pass. If he kept his current pace up, he'd be home in no time! Of course, he'd have to take a shower first----
Tom paused in the middle of the road, glancing to the side at the nearby Fal'Cie. Had he ever passed by Carbuncle before? Now that he thought about it, he should've taken a left at that fork instead of a right... Still, he didn't bother to return back to the fork. Instead, he moved towards Carbuncle. For some reason, it felt like the Fal'Cie was calling him, that it wanted to talk to him... and he was just too tired to resist.
Then came the weird tentacles. What the hell---Tom immediately jumped back. Resistance ultimately proved futile; before he could even scream, it'd wrapped itself around him and then... the whole world turned black. Flashing lights pounded in his head; numbers ran through before he could even comprehend them...
What the hell just happened? Limply giving into the pounding, blinding sensations, he collasped onto the floor. He couldn't really feel anything... but the memories of lights and birthday candles and the number 'one thousand' and the scent of Courney's freshly-baked cookies lingered.
He slowly rose from his position, tried to battle with the comforter---
Wait. When did he get the chance to get back into bed? Tom furrowed his brows as he slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for everything to come back into Focus. First he could see Maxine's bright-red, curly hair and her arms tightly wrapped around him--- and then his father behind her and his stepmother and the rest of his motley family. He couldn't help that sinking feeling in his chest.
"How did I---"
Maxine cut him off with a kiss. Passionately running her hands through his hair, she let go and then gently pressed her forehead to his. "We don't know. One minute, you said you were coming in half an hour... and then you'd suddenly arrived on our doorstep, all passed out."
Tom frowned, gently running a hand through her hair. Casually twirling one of her curls, he sighed. "How long was I out?"
"A while," His father confessed. "We called your workplace, said you'd passed out... and they extended your leave."
Uh-oh. Extending a leave was never a good sign, especially on the Lindblum: it usually meant that you'd become mentally unstable, physically unstable, or that you were on the brink of getting fired. Tom didn't know which rumor he wanted to follow him--especially since all were ridiculously untrue.
"I..." Tom struggled to find words, especially when he saw the worried faces of his family, "I... didn't mean to worry you."
Maxine shook her head, firmly looking her fiance in the eye. "You're okay. That's all that matters to us." She paused for a moment, then motioning to his right shoulder. "But um... Tommy? Can I ask a question?"
Tom blinked. "Um, sure. What's up?"
Casually rolling up his sleeves, Maxine pointed to the bright-blue mark embedded in his shoulder. "When'd you get a tattoo?"
In that instant, everything - and Tom meant EVERYTHING - made sense: why Carbuncle called out to him, why he didn't resist Carbuncle's inappropriate behavior, and how he ended up home as if by magic. Carbuncle had... it had... it had chosen him. And it had given him a Focus. How his family had managed to not realize that it was the mark of a l'Cie, he would never know.
With a slow smile, Tom shrugged his shoulders. "... Yesterday?"
In vain hopes of distracting everyone, he leaned forward and kissed Maxine again. And again. "It was going to be a surprise," He quickly responded, lying badly on the spot. "I didn't mean to.."
She kissed him back. In-between kisses, they'd somehow managed to wrestle the comforters under them. Tom's father sighed, merely shaking his head before he turned to leave.
"You'd better give me grandkids," He laughed before shutting the door behind him.
Tom tried his best not to blush - how could Dad just say that so casually? - but in the end, decided against calling the old man out on his bad humor. Everything had come into Focus... but Tom bitterly knew that his life'd be better off if everything remained blurry. For not the first time in his life, he wished he were a city kid and that he wouldn't have to return to the Lindblum in the morning and make sense of his crazy new life.
Suppressing a sigh, he took a deep breath and sunk underneath the covers. Next time something weird happens, he's totally questioning the Powers That Be.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII (crossover with DC Comics)
Relationships: Tom Bronson/Maxine Hunkel, platonic Tom+Cid, platonic Tom+Rydgea (mention only)
Summary: Tom didn't question the Powers That Be when he got his request to go home! In retrospect, that may have not been the best idea.
Notes: Written for Azi! ♥ This was the result of us being silly and joking around, but the fic itself ended up being more serious in tone. idek how. As for the AU itself--most DCU people exist, but Tom's the only l'Cie--and obviously, no one is a superhero.
Every time he descended the Lindblum and took that first step into town, Tom couldn't help taking in a deep breath. Something about the smog of the railways and the luxury of the people seemed to scream 'welcome home' and casually embrace him in its own way. His peers back home thought him crazy for preferring the city life. Why should he return home, when those nasty Pulse l'Cie might rampage through town and kill people?
Tom usually ignored their (ridiculously ignorant) protests. If Raines allowed them to fly alongside them and fight beside them, then they surely weren't as bad as everyone claimed. Besides, he'd wanted this break for months. Timing had just been rough, between the Pulse l'Cie being branded and the Sanctum going batshit - his words, not Raine's - over the subsequent events. He didn't want to think about leaving then, especially since Raine's bosses might question the leave of one of their top statisicians and tacticians.
Somehow, Tom had thought about a short break, and for reasons beyond his comprehension, the Powers That Be had granted his request for a weekend visit in Palumporum. For the rest of the week, despite their losses, Tom couldn't help that ridiculous grin on his face. He was going home! He could see Maxine again, tell her how much he loved her, actually carress her with kisses in person instead of those awkward texts he had to send while he was away... Work was rewarding enough, but the mere thought of home - with Maxine waiting - tempted him to consider a life away from numbers and statistics and battlefield maps.
He had to remind himself, he was only on vacation. One short, sweet vacation where he could spend hours with Maxine and hours with his father in the Boxing arena and minutes saying hello to Mom in the graveyard and asking her how she's doing in Heaven. Tom just couldn't consider quitting now, not when he had more to lose than he had to gain.
Something about the city life made his shoulders lighter and his steps breezier. City people never had to worry about numbers of soldiers or the presentations made to Raines or the steps they had to take to ensure that they wouldn't cause someone else to die in the field. Sure, they had their own worries, but even Tom couldn't help noticing that theirs were the kind that alcohol and smoke could drown out. His? No matter how many cans of beer he downed in an hour, Tom still couldn't get drunk enough to forget. Some sorrows were just too deep to forget.
He shook his head, partially to shake the negativity from his mind, before waving good-bye to his colleagues and taking that final step into the "real world." Glancing down at his train ticket, he pocketed it and moved forward. If he continued his brisk pace, then he could probably make the next train in ten minutes... and then he'd be home. He licked his lips at the mere thought of Maxine's cooking.
What he wouldn't give for something home-cooked. He'd tried a couple of times, on the Lindblum, but his cooking was sub-par. Nothing to write home about, but it wasn't nothing that people complained about for weeks on end either. As Rydgea once put it, "Bronson, you just aren't meant to master some things."
That rather lengthy list had somehow expanded to include fighting - he could defend himself, sure, but actually hitting someone didn't register in his brain - as well as public speaking. For not the first time in his life, Tom had been incredibly grateful that the Sanctum hired him to work as a behind the scenes person. He could deal with numbers and graphs and charts much more than he could deal with people. As usual, Tom preferred to weave through the throngs of people rushing home rather than to chart his own path; he'd arrive home soon enough.
Casually passing by a tall, neatly-dressed black-haired man, Tom couldn't help glancing over his shoulder at the guy again before continuing to walk. That guy... Tom knew he couldn't be Commander Raines, but the similarities were jarring. Suddenly, memories flooded back to the surface, of that first awkward moment when he introduced himself to Commander Raines, Tom preferred to stay in the realm of small talk. Their worlds didn't collide in that perfect crash; rather, it felt like they were airships passing in the middle of the night. They weren't like small-town people who could find a conversation out of everything, nor were they like childhood friends who'd known each other for forever. Tom knew he might be kidding himself if he considered Raines a friend. As it was, Raines was his boss. They couldn't ever be equals.
And yet, some days, Tom wondered if he'd been kidding himself about everything. Separated from the Calvary life, everything came squarely into Focus. He could see his colleagues cheering him on after a rough game of billards or poker; he could see Rydgea trying to coerce him into starting bar fights, "just to liven things up,"; and he could even see Raines attempting to reach out, in his own way. Maybe Tom'd been a fool to try and keep the boss-employee barrier as high as he did.
Pushing his ticket into the turnstile, he passed through and studied the signs carefully. He had to make it to Platform 8 in order to reach home... and yet, the moment he found his platform, a "Out of Order" sign greeted him. Tom sighed, casually scratching the back of his head before pushing himself towards the train directory. Had the l'Cie been through town yet? Usually, they left miles of ruins and desctruction in their wake---almost immediately after the thought popped into his head, Tom mentally chided himself. What did he know about l'Cie?
They couldn't be responsible for train maintanence workers' douchebaggery and halting his visit home. Especially since the rest of the station looked as pristine as ever. Heaving a sigh, Tom turned and started to walk out. He had to think of another method to arrive home - especially since the train wouldn't be fixed for another week - but at the moment, he couldn't come up with anything. He might have to rent a taxi or just walk the rest of the way...
Or maybe the sewers were still open. No one really talked about the sewers and its underground passages, but locals like Tom could easily navigate through the passageways. Maxine might question it when he returned home - because seriously, the sewers stunk - but he had no other options awaiting him. Without hesitation, he turned and exited the station to find one of the more-accessible entrances. Glancing around once, then twice, to make sure that no one could see him, Tom then carefully knelt down and opened the door before jumping down.
Years of Boxing experience and parkour hadn't helped him as much as he thought it would. Instead, his childhood knowledge of each passageway and how to move from one end to the other became more useful. Memories of dragging Maxine, Courtney, and Billy through these passages rushed to the surface and nearly overwhelmed him. He could even smell Billy's ridiculous cologne - he thought lavender was manly - and Courtney's freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies as he passed by the sewer workers.
Casually waving to some of the monsters, they acknowledged him with a nod before allowing him to pass. If he kept his current pace up, he'd be home in no time! Of course, he'd have to take a shower first----
Tom paused in the middle of the road, glancing to the side at the nearby Fal'Cie. Had he ever passed by Carbuncle before? Now that he thought about it, he should've taken a left at that fork instead of a right... Still, he didn't bother to return back to the fork. Instead, he moved towards Carbuncle. For some reason, it felt like the Fal'Cie was calling him, that it wanted to talk to him... and he was just too tired to resist.
Then came the weird tentacles. What the hell---Tom immediately jumped back. Resistance ultimately proved futile; before he could even scream, it'd wrapped itself around him and then... the whole world turned black. Flashing lights pounded in his head; numbers ran through before he could even comprehend them...
What the hell just happened? Limply giving into the pounding, blinding sensations, he collasped onto the floor. He couldn't really feel anything... but the memories of lights and birthday candles and the number 'one thousand' and the scent of Courney's freshly-baked cookies lingered.
He slowly rose from his position, tried to battle with the comforter---
Wait. When did he get the chance to get back into bed? Tom furrowed his brows as he slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for everything to come back into Focus. First he could see Maxine's bright-red, curly hair and her arms tightly wrapped around him--- and then his father behind her and his stepmother and the rest of his motley family. He couldn't help that sinking feeling in his chest.
"How did I---"
Maxine cut him off with a kiss. Passionately running her hands through his hair, she let go and then gently pressed her forehead to his. "We don't know. One minute, you said you were coming in half an hour... and then you'd suddenly arrived on our doorstep, all passed out."
Tom frowned, gently running a hand through her hair. Casually twirling one of her curls, he sighed. "How long was I out?"
"A while," His father confessed. "We called your workplace, said you'd passed out... and they extended your leave."
Uh-oh. Extending a leave was never a good sign, especially on the Lindblum: it usually meant that you'd become mentally unstable, physically unstable, or that you were on the brink of getting fired. Tom didn't know which rumor he wanted to follow him--especially since all were ridiculously untrue.
"I..." Tom struggled to find words, especially when he saw the worried faces of his family, "I... didn't mean to worry you."
Maxine shook her head, firmly looking her fiance in the eye. "You're okay. That's all that matters to us." She paused for a moment, then motioning to his right shoulder. "But um... Tommy? Can I ask a question?"
Tom blinked. "Um, sure. What's up?"
Casually rolling up his sleeves, Maxine pointed to the bright-blue mark embedded in his shoulder. "When'd you get a tattoo?"
In that instant, everything - and Tom meant EVERYTHING - made sense: why Carbuncle called out to him, why he didn't resist Carbuncle's inappropriate behavior, and how he ended up home as if by magic. Carbuncle had... it had... it had chosen him. And it had given him a Focus. How his family had managed to not realize that it was the mark of a l'Cie, he would never know.
With a slow smile, Tom shrugged his shoulders. "... Yesterday?"
In vain hopes of distracting everyone, he leaned forward and kissed Maxine again. And again. "It was going to be a surprise," He quickly responded, lying badly on the spot. "I didn't mean to.."
She kissed him back. In-between kisses, they'd somehow managed to wrestle the comforters under them. Tom's father sighed, merely shaking his head before he turned to leave.
"You'd better give me grandkids," He laughed before shutting the door behind him.
Tom tried his best not to blush - how could Dad just say that so casually? - but in the end, decided against calling the old man out on his bad humor. Everything had come into Focus... but Tom bitterly knew that his life'd be better off if everything remained blurry. For not the first time in his life, he wished he were a city kid and that he wouldn't have to return to the Lindblum in the morning and make sense of his crazy new life.
Suppressing a sigh, he took a deep breath and sunk underneath the covers. Next time something weird happens, he's totally questioning the Powers That Be.