Hello! This is kind of out there but I was wondering if you could do a post apocolypse au? With tons of Barret but not very shippy. With lots of found family though! Thanks
“I know you didn't list Barret as one of the character you write, but you also said that the list was only a sort of guideline and not actually hard rules. If that's the case could you maybe do a prompt for some Dad!Barret and Marlene fluff? Thank you 💞💕” - Anon
Filling two prompts at once here, so I hope this fits the bill for both! Also I got really into this prompt so I’m honestly probably going to continue it? If so, it’ll on ao3, but here’s what I’ve written so far. Sort of the start of the fic/a prologue. A five + 1 type premise, beginning with Tifa XD
-UPDATE! The fic is now finished - PART 2 - PART 3 - ALL PARTS ON AO3
-If you want to send in a prompt, the guidelines are HERE and HERE!
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His daughter makes him a crown of dead flowers.
Barricaded inside of some long abandoned home, the only pieces of nature still visible are the wilted remains of a bouquet once gathered neatly in a vase. They’re faded, of course. Neglected and passed over for more urgent necessities; victims to the cruel fate of the merciless virus. Just as humans had been.
Just like every other living thing on the planet.
Yet Marlene doesn’t seem to mind. As soon as they’re both settled in for the night she takes the flowers up, small fingers clutching ever so delicately at the crumbling stems, and weaves him a crown. Kicking her feet on an old dusty couch and humming away, she even appears almost happy and content, though he knows she’s not.
He knows she’s afraid. Sees it every day in her frightened tears and hears it every night in the tiny, terrified whimpers of her nightmares.
These things - these small, innocuous pieces of joy she seems to find at the strangest of moments, are the only pieces of innocence she has left. Her only protection from the monsters inside of her head.
Barret can’t rob her of that; he never could. Even if the flowers she plays with are dead and the couch she sits on once belonged to someone else. So when she looks up at him with wide brown eyes and that big, loving smile, presenting his crown like the glittering tiara she imagines it is, he can’t do anything else but kneel to accept it.
Can’t do anything else but return the smile and play pretend, heart aching with the loss of something he knows she’ll never get back.
Sometimes, he thinks of what his life would be like without her. Thinks of the kids out on the streets and the parents he’s met along the roads. Shell shocked, blank faced victims, waiting for the infected to end it all, and he knows he’s lucky. Lucky to have her at all in this destructive world, and the loss of her innocence isn’t so horrifying in the face of her simply being here with him. Safe and cared for and alive.
Because Marlene is the only thing he has left in the world - she’s the only one who matters - and he knows he’d do just about anything to keep her safe.
More importantly, though. More than anything else. He’d do anything to keep her happy.
So he plays pretend.
He wears the crown made from dead people’s things and cooks in their kitchen. Ignores the plundered and violated remains of their home to search through his own bag for some food, and hopes that his little girl doesn’t go looking upstairs to see the empty baby’s nursery.
Dinner is small again. It’s been beans and carrots for the past week, and it’ll be beans and carrots again today. Considering their circumstances, it isn’t exactly surprising. Watching over Marlene means making certain sacrifices, and raiding the bigger places for better supplies is simply too difficult with a child in tow.
Impossibly difficult.
But it may soon be necessary, if things keep going the way they are. The thought that he might have to expose Marlene to the atrocities of their new world doesn’t sit well with him, but he might have to start doing so if he wants to keep them both alive and fed. Especially if he wants any tools of a high enough quality to maintain his arm.
Right now it works, but the thing is too slow to be useful for anything except shooting, and he relegates it to hanging limp and useless beside him on most days. Though even when his arm had been working at it’s finest, it was never useful for cooking.
Mechanized gun arms tend to be like that.
“Daddy?”
He hums, pots and pans banging, relieved when the stove starts without problem. “Yes, honey?”
“Where do you think the people who lived here moved away to?”
That warrants a glance backwards, and Barret turns to see Marlene still on the couch. She’s got a large photo album opened up on her lap now, flipping through it with a childlike curiosity. Her feet are still kicking off the edge of her seat, and after a beat of silence she looks up at him questioningly.
He pushes back the urge to snatch the book away from her - to protect her from the darkness only he can see hiding between the pages.
Alive or dead, those are happy photos. Moments of a better life and a better time, and Marlene’s touch can only make them brighter. So he leaves her to it and returns to his cooking.
“They could be anywhere,” he still tells her, hoping to give her whatever small shred of hope he can, “maybe they’re hiding somewhere safer.”
“Like a Camp?”
“Maybe.” The nearest Camp isn’t for miles, but he knows the army and fast formed neighborhood watches had been evacuating people to safe sites. A lot of those had been transformed into Camps or eventually transferred to other Camps. For anybody living near the city, it isn’t exactly a stretch to imagine.
More of a stretch than Barret can muster, though.
“What if they Clustered?” Marlene asks after a moment of thought.
Barret isn’t at all expecting the words, and he barely manages to bite back an unsavory comment upon hearing them. What Marlene refers to as Clusters, most call Mobs, and he’d rather jump off a damn cliff than ever even look at one again. He doesn’t want to scare her, though. So instead he clears his throat and focuses on making their plates to distract himself, lips tightening.
“Then at least they’d be safe,” he offers mildly.
“Well then why aren’t we in one? If it’s safe, I mean.”
“Because it’s only safe for certain people, baby.” When she opens her mouth he cuts her off, raising the plates in an apology. “You just have to trust me, okay? Let’s talk about something else.”
At her huff of reluctant acceptance he moves back to the couch, sitting close and pulling away the photo album.
He closes it and tosses it aside immediately, but in the half second his gaze finds the photos, he notices they’re all of a happy old couple. Thin and frail and paler than porcelain from a distinct lack of sun.
Dead, he realizes.
There’s no way they would have made it.
“Daddy? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. Let’s eat, huh? We gotta finish up soon if we want you in bed on time.”
Marlene pouts at that, suitably distracted, and they both dig into their food with gusto.
Speculating about strangers will get in him nowhere, he knows. Especially when it comes to the dead ones.
There’ll be time for mourning later.
Much, much later.
So he sits and he eats and talks about ponies and princesses, the crown still adorning his head, and he doesn’t think about anything except his daughter.
Doesn’t think about a thing except how he’s going to keep her alive.
They finish their meal in record time. Soon enough, Barret is tucking a fussy Marlene into bed. She’s curled up in her cot near the living room heater, bundled beneath some extra blankets he found in the linen closet, and she’s out like a light as soon as her head hits the pillow.
Barret sits and keeps watch while she sleeps. Through the slivers of space between boards, he watches dusk pass peacefully by. The infected begin to meander away once his and Marlene’s disturbance becomes old news to them, and a silence befalls their cozy sanctuary as the sky gradually darkens.
Then shit goes horribly, explosively sideways.
It happens in the middle of the night: a deafening boom that rocks the world and instantly has Barret on high alert. The air around them erupts in a blaze of fire and screams, upper level catching like dry tinder before he can so much as blink.
Barret jumps to his feet with a yell, turning to grab Marlene as the ceiling crumbles around them. She’s glossy eyed and confused, but he doesn’t have the time to explain it to her. Doesn’t have the time to do a thing as beams pop around them, tires screeching in the near distance. Then the sound of shattering windows rends the silence of the night, a sadistic chorus of hoots and hollers following right at its heels.
The approaching thunder of footsteps is what pushes Barret into motion. Quickly, with the rise of voices goading him to move faster than he ever has before, Barret pulls their bags onto one shoulder, hefting his little girl over the other, and races to the crooked backdoor. He kicks it down amidst a cascade of red hot cinders, ducking underneath the doorway without hesitation, and looks up to see dewy grass stretching out cold and exposed before them.
Another explosion sounds out from the house, the footsteps beginning to get closer as the war cries rise, and he has no time to waste anymore - no time for second thoughts.
Barret takes Marlene and he runs.
------
After that night, their situation only gets worse. The Mob isn’t tracking Barret down, but it’s clear they’ve set up shop in the surrounding buildings and aren’t planning to move anytime soon.
As a result, Barret gives the city a wide berth. Skirting past the outermost houses and heading into the open fields, he eventually leads them into the surrounding forests. He’s hoping for some modicum of safety within the boughs, but greenery is scarce and the leaves are falling. Winter’s chill becomes more prominent with every passing night to exacerbate the issue, and it drives home their need for four walls and a roof like nothing else ever could.
Yet for now, it’s better than nothing. Better than being left so vulnerable again, defenseless in another family’s home.
The added protection of the trees brings other problems, however. They’re isolated from civilization and traders out here, with no friendly faces to be seen for miles, and the subsequent dip in their supplies is severe.
By the end of their first week camping out in the forests, Barret finds himself staring at his and Marlene’s very last can of beans, and knows without a doubt that they’ve finally hit the breaking point.
They’re going to have to go looting again if they want some food.
And it is that thought that finds Barret and Marlene outside the remains of an empty, half hidden store just a few too many paces off the main road. With not a single infected in sight, it looks like the perfect mark.
Marlene huffs into the chill beside him, breath fogging. “What if there are monsters inside?”
“Daddy will take care of them! Don’t you worry a bit about that.”
Marlene shuffles her feet and ducks her head. She has a death grip on his fingers, body closed off and fearful, and he already regrets making the decision to come out here. All around them, the silence of the abandoned store echoes with a warning.
“I’m scared,” she whispers at the ground, and Barret squeezes her hand lightly in reassurance.
“It’ll be real quick, baby, I promise,” he says, voice strong even as he eyes the flickering store lights with trepidation, “we’ve just gotta run in and out. Grab all the food we can carry and haul ass, huh?”
“But I can’t carry lots,” Marlene replies mournfully.
“That’s no problem! I’ll do most of the carrying. Your job is just to stay on my shoulder and make me feel better.”
“Like a cheerleader?”
“Exactly like a cheerleader. You’re my hype crew!”
Her giggle lights up the dark parking lot, and he kneels to give her a gentle hug. When her small hands come up to wrap around his neck he gets an arm under her, lifting her up with exaggerated force until she’s clutching at his fingers and giggling wildy.
Shifting her to his shoulder is almost easy after that. She’s distracted and pleased, beginning to hum her little happy song again as she kicks her legs in the air, and Barret hates himself for having to make it go away.
“Now you gotta hold on real tight, remember? Cause I need both hands free for this.” He looks up to see her nod and frown seriously, heart aching at the maturity in her expression.
“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll be quiet, too.”
“Good. Just like we practiced.”
“Mhm!”
Then it’s go time.
They move towards the store slowly and enter with care. Barret’s desperate but he’s not going to act the fool. There could be any number of threats inside, and he isn’t going to risk his daughter because he acted rashly - made too much noise or stepped too loudly. Isn’t going to give the infected the satisfaction of seeing him fall.
Marlene is careful, too. She’s got a death grip on his shoulder and his hair the entire time he walks. Yet the pain is nothing compared to knowing she’s safe, so he stays silent as they creep past the threshold.
As soon as he steps foot in the building he sees the checkout. It’s right beside the door, as he’d known it would be, but it’s holding way more registers and lanes than he’d planned on seeing. Immediately, Barret takes a longer look at the aisles spreading out a fair distance in front of them, and realizes with dread that this store is a lot bigger than he’d given it credit for.
The CVS sign in the far corner blares accusingly from its place above another, smaller checkout.
Medicine is his first thought - his only thought - for a long time after seeing it. And of course it is. Medicine is indescribably valuable during catastrophes such as this. It’s priceless.
And he’s staring at a whole roomful of it.
This store hasn’t been looted, he realizes blankly, and that’s when the second thought hits. Harsh and brutal as if he’s been hit by a truck.
Threat, his mind blares, and he’s instantly tensing as he readies for a battle or a confrontation - anything.
This is no longer a simple search for remaining loot. Any Mob or Camp worth a damn would be on this shit in seconds if they knew it was here, and they wouldn’t shy away from using any means necessary to obtain the supplies.
Hell, if a Syndicate finds this place they might as well give up on life right now.
His heart skips a beat, hand coming up for just a brief moment to squeeze tightly at his little girl’s leg, and she hugs him from above. She doesn’t say anything, though. Merely patting the top of his head in an attempt at comfort.
Smart girl, he thinks, moving to grab one of the shopping carts lying about. It’s completely intact, and even the mere presence of a fully functioning shopping cart at the entrance of the store lets him know nobody has set foot in this place since shit hit the fan.
They’re loud but they’re handy, and Barret plans on filling the entire thing to brimming. With this whole basket full they’ll be able to eat well for weeks.
An insistent hand tugs at his hair. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, honey.” He begins to wheel the cart around, but Marlene’s next words stop him dead.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” He demands, but he’s already tensing, gun charged up and free hand coming to steady his little girl.
He whirls around to face the back rooms just as she yells out a “that!”, and as if on cue a crash rings out, several voices rising in the sounds of a fight. Barret barely has the time to raise his gun and take a step back before the doors are bursting open, a long haired woman flying through to skid painfully across the white tiles.
Marlene gasps. “Daddy, it’s a girl!”
“Marlene baby, don’t-”
Then the doors burst open a second time with a reverberating thud. It’s loud enough to wake any infected in the nearby vicinity, and though Barret doesn’t hear any cries rise up from the surrounding forest, he knows it’s only a matter of time before some creature comes looking.
“Hey!” He snaps at the people coming through the doors. They’re all white men, though two are big and burly while the other is slighter, only coming up to their shoulders.
All three look pissed as hell.
“Who the hell is that?” One of them hisses, gesturing with a bloodied wooden bat in Barret’s direction, and Barret wastes no time in directing his gun straight at the man’s ugly mug.
“I’m your worst damn nightmare unless you back the fuck down, boy!” He growls menacingly, and though his chest tightens at Marlene’s fearful whimper, he doesn’t let the stony facade fade.
The smaller man scoffs. “You and what army? The seven year old on your shoulder? I hate to break it to you big guy, but that we could take you both down within seconds.” The cocky shit brandishes a pistol as he speaks, finger pressed so tightly to the trigger Barret’s half afraid he’ll fire wide without meaning to.
Subtly, he tightens his hold of Marlene, about to speak again when the woman on the ground coughs and rises to her hands and knees.
“No!” She protests loudly, to both Barret and the smaller man’s surprise. Her voice is scratchy yet strong with heated conviction, eyes burning a brilliant red as they come up to glare accusingly at the other. “She’s only a little girl, don’t-”
“Any fool stupid enough to carry around a brat during the apocalypse deserves to have her ripped from his fingers.” It’s one of the larger man that speaks this time around, and Barret has to grit his teeth through the rush of anger that sears through his veins, seconds away from putting thirty fucking bullets through the man’s worthless smirking face.
“What the hell did you just say?!” He demands.
“I said we’re going to kill you and your little brat, and then after that we’re going to kill this stupid whore for thinking she could steal from us!”
“No!” Barret’s heart almost stops at Marlene’s shout. The way every eye in the room is drawn to her. The way the gun points straight at her head - “You can’t hurt her! She’s ours, now. Tell them, Daddy!”
Barret turns to break the gunman’s line of sight, but surprisingly it’s the woman who speaks again, shaking her head wildly as she struggles to get to her feet. “Please! Please don’t get involved. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”
Stunned, all Barret can do for a moment is stand frozen, staring down at her. Her face is bruised and swollen, lip split and bleeding where she’s biting it aggressively to fight back the pain, and her arm curls around her ribs in a way that indicates they’re at least bruised, if not broken. Yet still she tries to rise up in their defense - in his daughter’s defense - despite her injured and unarmed state.
“Daddy-”
“I know, honey.” He can’t risk Marlene but he can’t just stand idly by as someone else gets hurt.
Before he knows it and before anybody can do a thing to react, he’s stepping forward and placing himself firmly between the woman and the three twitchy men. They all buck back like frightened horses at his rapid approach, making harsh, surprised noises that instantly tell Barret what he needs to know.
So he grins and bars his teeth, massive gun swinging around to aim at each of them for a second. Lingering until every last one is skittering uncomfortably, shifty eyed and sweating.
“I ain’t gon’ let you touch this girl and I am sure as hell not gonna let you so much as look or think about my daughter again! Now scram!” Bullets ring through the air, battering the concrete by the group’s heads and making them scream with terror, scattering like ants. Even the gunman forgets his own weapon and fragile bravado to turn tail and flee right behind his friends.
Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, the men are gone; glass doors sliding closed behind them as they stumble and stagger their way through the entire length of the parking lot and disappear into the trees.
Barret doubts they’ll last long with the infected in their current states, so he doesn’t bother chasing them. Instead, heart racing and mouth dry, he falls to his knees beside the woman. Though he pays her no heed as he sweeps his daughter from his shoulders and tucks her close to his chest.
“Are you alright?” He gasps into her hair. “Are you okay? Did they-did they-”
Marlene giggles, squirming against his hold until he’s forced to let her go. She twists her dirty pink shoes against the floor and holds her hands behind her back, smiling up at him so widely her eyes crease with the force of it. “I’m fine, Daddy!”
He sighs and checks her over with his eyes. Nobody had attacked them, of course, but he just can’t shake the fear that she could have died. One stray bullet or unfortunate ricochet. If the men had been any braver or the woman any more willing to use her proximity against them. If…
“You promise?”
“I promise!”
He gives her another quick hug, because she’s his daughter and she’s alive and he can, and then pulls away again to take a look at the woman behind them.
She’s dead to the world, eyes closed and completely limp. So still that if it wasn’t for her breathing, Barret would be hard pressed to think she was dead.
“Is she our friend now?” Marlene asks, going to her tip-toes to peer around his large bulk curiously.
Barret snorts. “What did I tell you about strangers?”
“To never talk to them or trust them and to always stay away from them!” Marlene recites proudly.
“That’s right! That’s very good, Marlene. If you meet a stranger you come straight to me, okay?”
He pats her on the head, but that doesn’t stop her from huffing with agitation and clenching her hands into fists, glaring up at him stubbornly. “But you are here. And she helped us!”
“I know-” Barret begins, but Marlene cuts him off.
“We can’t leave her behind, Daddy. She’s hurt and it’s our duty to help people. You always say that.”
“No, it’s my duty to always help people. It’s your duty to stay out of danger so Daddy doesn’t worry about you.”
She doesn’t respond this time around, bringing out the full force of her puppy dog eyes as she pouts, and Barret shakes his head, circling the woman’s battered form. Her breathing is heavy and steady, so at least she doesn’t seem to have a lung problem, and when he runs his fingers along her ribs he’s relieved to note that they’re only bruised and not broken. Painful but manageable. She should be up and about soon.
If they take her back.
Barret sighs, glancing over to Marlene’s wide, pleading eyes. “Who the hell am I kidding?” he grumbles to himself, moving the woman to a more secure position.
“So we’re keeping her?” Marlene asks, solemnity instantly turning to excitement at whatever she’s gleaned from his actions.
“Only until she’s better.”
“Okay!” Marlene squeals. She holds her arms up expectantly until Barret leans down and scoops her onto his shoulder. “We can bring her back with us!”
“After we get the food, sweetheart. You know we need the supplies.”
“‘Kay. Supplies first, then her, then home!”
“Yeah...home.”
And that’s how it begins. With one person - one chance encounter - and in a second their family has grown.
Tifa Lockhart, she later tells them her name is, while still laid up in the cot they’d prepared for her beneath the swaying boughs of the tallest tree.
She won’t stay for long, is all Barret can think in response, watching his chipper daughter chatter happily into her ear. She’ll leave before the night is out, and we’ll never see her again.
And only later - five more people and two years later - will he realize that he was gloriously, beautifully wrong.