(Author's note: Thank you to Cendrillo for reminding me the number of the rocket. She wins. Also, the usual disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is not mine, I just like playing with its Legos.)
Sunset Over a Rocket
The setting sun's fading beams played hauntingly on the small town, reflecting from window panes in oranges and yellows while also casting the town's tall pines into silhouette. Shinra 026, a tilted testament to complete and utter failure was also cast into shadow, eerily looming above and slightly to the right. People passed by the launch-site, refusing to look up, to acknowledge that their years of hard work had lead only to a rocket that failed to lift off the ground. Looking at the rocket meant they would acknowledge the human failure that had caused the launch, they would accept that they made an error, they would be forced to decide if they too would scrap the entire project in order to save the life of a tech who had been more than willing to die so that the towns' wishes would come true. If they did not look at the rocket, they would never have to face responsibility.
Herbert Palmer, alone, stood on the rooftop of the chemical engineering building, staring at the rocket. The sight of it was emasculated and humiliated him, but even so he was mesmerized, thoughts tumbling through his head of the morning's launch failure, of his actions up to this point, what the failure meant for his future.
Engrossed in his torments, he failed to hear the roof door open, then shut, failed to hear the footsteps of his visitor. When a hand clasped his shoulder, Palmer jumped, and spun to face the owner of that hand, eyes wide.
Reeve stood before him, grinning. The mischievous curl to the man's lip reminded Palmer of their college days together and he allowed himself to relax slightly, relieved. He forced his own grin to mirror Reeve's, grateful to his friend for coming to try and cheer him.
Reeve walked to the edge of the one-story roof, staring at the rocket for a few moments. He laughed, a short bark of laughter and looked over his shoulder to Palmer again. "You're a bastard. I saw you sneak back into that rocket last night."
Palmer's face fell, and he chuckled nervously, shaking his head. He squinted, trying to see Reeve's expression despite the engineer's face being shrouded in shadow. He could tell that Reeve was grinning still, but somehow it looked predatory now, the grin of a snake looking down on a rat. But Reeve was an old friend. Maybe that hadn't spoken in years, but they were almost inseparable in college. The hissing smile was surely a trick of the light. A nervous giggle slipped out of Palmer's mouth. "I didn't know you were here for the launch."
"And miss my best friend fulfill his dream of reaching outer space?" Reeve turned to look at Shinra 026 again.
"You just wanted to see the rocket," Palmer accused, still grinning goofily and running pudgy fingers through his already thinning blond hair.
"It was a disappointment."
Palmer paused, frozen in place, staring at his friend's back for some indication of a joke, however Reeve seemed to be done speaking, did not seem to be willing to offer any humor to lighten the sting of that blow. Palmer cleared his throat and wrung his hands together. "They offered me a promotion."
"For failing?"
"Before the launch."
Silence descended between the two, and Palmer wondered why this reunion had to be so awkward. Was Reeve so disappointed that Palmer had failed? Was Palmer projecting his insecurities onto Reeve? It was a relief when Reeve began to speak again. "Offer's probably no good when they find out foul play was involved."
It was a short-lived relief. "There was no 'foul play,' Reeve." Palmer's voice was hot, he knew his face was flushed, and his fists clenched by their own volition.
"Are you sure? They're letting me look inside tomorrow. I'm not looking for anything, of course, but I'd recognize sabotage if I saw it." Reeve finally turned back to face Palmer, eyebrows arched. His eyes, shadowed, were completely black.
"Y-You're threatening me?" His voice tripped over itself, a shameful display and Palmer's stomach soured when Reeve smiled, a slick smile reserved only for the devil and used car salesmen. He had shown the other man weakness and Reeve advanced for the kill.
"I'm protecting you," came the soothing reply. "The idea that someone sabotaged the rocket's already come up." Reeve spread his arms wide, implying his was the only course of action that one could take.
"I heard," Palmer growled through grit teeth.
As casually as discussing one's favorite type of cheese, Reeve said, "Your name hasn't been mentioned, but I might not have been the only one to see you last night."
"I didn't do anything."
"Relax, Herb. I believe you. That's what friends are for, right?"
Palmer resisted the urge to punch that plastic, reassuring smile off of his former friend's face. He remembered how Reeve had made friends with Highwind after Palmer graduated, how the two had worked together, and how Reeve had introduced Shera to the pilot, and the anger faded, washed out of his system in a rush that left him light-headed. Palmer was afraid to even shift his weight, worried that it was not only the metaphorical ground beneath his feet that had crumbled. "Then why are you accusing me?" He knew his voice held a plaintive whine. Reeve's silhouette, next to the rocket drained all the strength from Palmer and jabbed him with the realization that he had always been a fool.
"I'm just pointing out you will be accused. And I can make that go away."
"What do you want?" Palmer's shoulders slumped, defeat wearied his voice.
"A promotion."
"I have no control over that sort of thing."
"No, but you have influence. And if I look into this for you, there'll be a reason for you to like me professionally. The position above me is opening up soon, and I want it. It's the perfect opportunity for you to put a good word in."
"Not that good a word." Palmer moved now, for the first time in what seemed like ages. He averted his gaze and stared at a pine tree in the distance. It swayed slightly in a breeze, mockingly.
"Mm. I'll keep that in mind if I ever have to put a word in on your behalf."
Palmer did not have to look at Reeve to know the man was grinning again, to know he'd given a shrug. And even without seeing it, Palmer felt the weight of responsibility shifted onto his shoulders. It was now his fault that Reeve was blackmailing him. Palmer's gaze returned to his friend's face. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, and all the eeriness caused by the setting sun was magnified tenfold. "Reeve..."
"No, no," Reeve waved a hand dismissively, "it's alright. I was only asking." He took a step toward Palmer, reached out and clasped the man's shoulder, offering a winning smile. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He let go, and walked toward the rooftop door.
Palmer stood, stunned, then spun, taking a few faltering steps after Reeve and called after him. "Don't leave just yet. Don't you want to know why...?"
Reeve did not even pause to call out, "Not really."
"He stole my place on the rocket. He took Shera from me." It had seemed like a good rationalization at the time, but it sounded flimsy now that he was trying to convince the devil he was pursuing the course of righteousness.
"I told you I don't care." Now Reeve did stop, half-turning so he could fix Palmer with another cold look. His eyebrows were raised again, coolly.
Palmer bit the inside of his lip after being fixed with that appraising stare. He shook his head and begged. "Please, don't tell the president that I..."
"Well, since you asked, I guess I won't." Palmer could see Reeve's teeth.
Torn between a sob and a laugh, Palmer produced a strangled sound. "You're a fucking bastard."
"Save that accusation for tomorrow," Reeve suggested, turning back to the metal door that lead back inside. He reached out and his hand rested on the doorknob when Palmer spoke again.
"I'll see what I can do about you getting a promotion." Reeve did not bother to turn around when Palmer spoke, but merely bowed his head in acceptance of Palmer's admission of defeat before slipping back into the building. As the door shut behind the bastard with a soft click, Palmer knew that that was just the first door of many that would be closed in his face.