Wednesday wouldn't be a good cult leader, but she knows who would be.
A slice of life for the couple and their friends.
***
The mundanity of everyday life, though often dull and repetitive, can occasionally prove to be entertaining.
“Babe, I’m hurt. Vampires are known for their thralls,” Yoko whined irritatingly. “I would absolutely make for a bad ass cult leader!”
Divina rolled her eyes and pecked her girlfriend on the cheek, “Sweetie, you’re the laziest person I know, except for Ajax. You wouldn’t even last a week before letting someone else take over because it would be too much work.”
“Delegating is an important life skill.” The vampire crossed her arms and huffed childishly. “So who do you think would be a better cult leader? You and Bianca don’t count since you can just siren everybody into following you.”
Both sirens and Enid looked up from their phones at each other before simultaneous turning to look at Wednesday.
Since entering an amorous relationship with my technicolored wolf, I find myself unwilling to part with Enid longer than necessary. As a result, I’m often among my peers, her friends, during our lunch hour. Though I don’t usually participate in their mindless conversations, today it seems unavoidable.
Enid grinned her radiant smile as she nudged Wednesday’s shoulder, “How would you feel about leading a cult? I bet you’d put Jim Jones to shame.”
“I’m flattered, but no I wouldn’t,” the seer looked up from her battered Old English copy of Beowulf and was momentarily blinded by her love’s beauty. “I . . . I daresay you’d be a much better candidate.”
An exaggerated cough that sounded suspiciously like simp came from across the table.
“For real, Addams?” Bianca teased in a grating voice. “Your girlfriend would be a better cult leader than you or Yoko?”
Everyone goes through phases as they age: in elementary school I was fascinated by medieval torture, in middle school it was serial killers, and most recently my guilty pleasure has been destructive cults. Enid’s podcast recommendations on the subject have been surprisingly enjoyable.
“What is the single most important trait of a non-siren cult leader?” Wednesday asked the table as she folded her hands on top of her closed AP lit reading assignment.
Divina cocked her head and frowned, “Charisma.”
The seer nodded shortly, grateful the siren had a few more brain cells than the vampire. “And do I or the parasite have any relevant amount of charisma?”
“I’m very charismatic-”
“Yoko, people are just afraid of you because you’re a vampire,” Bianca interrupted.
Enid giggled, the sound nearly as hypnotic as a siren’s song, and nudged her girlfriend again. “I think you can be charismatic when you want to be.”
“Which is never. You on the other hand possess the trait in excess,” Wednesday stated with confidence. “Your gift for befriending our peers is truly extraordinary.”
The wolf was nearly vibrating out of her seat as she leaned further into her girlfriend. “Wens, you’re literally the sweetest.”
“Okay, stop flirting for a sec. We just decided Yoko couldn’t be a cult leader because she’s too lazy,” Bianca pointed out, skepticism dripping from her tone. “Don’t you think your girlfriend is way too nice to manipulate anyone?”
“She is uncommonly kind and patient, yes,” Wednesday readily admitted. “But Enid also has a drive to be exceptional at what she cares about, something the vampire lacks. I believe that drive could overwhelm any perceived niceness.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment or-?” Bianca asked.
Wednesday slipped her book back into her bag. “Simply an observation and a theory.”
“I’m gonna take it as a compliment,” Enid justifiably preened.
Tongue loosened by Enid’s proximity, the seer continued, “Aside from her personality, I also believe Enid would be a master at love bombing.”
Yoko petulantly threw her straw wrapper at Wednesday. “We don’t need to hear about what you two get up to in your dorm.”
Why does Enid like this obnoxious tick? I would much rather be there with her than here with this lot.
“Love bombing is a popular method employed by cults to quickly incorporate new members.” Wednesday continued in a painfully even and measured tone, “Many individuals targeted by cults are social outcasts, those without families. These people tend to be starved for affection, thus giving them that affection in high concentrations at the beginning of a relationship will quickly overwhelm them leading to something akin to addiction. They’ll do nearly anything to continue receiving that love as a result.”
“So love can be a weapon?” Enid asked with a fang-filled smirk and a playful crinkle to her eyes.
Wednesday swallowed slowly, ignoring the blush trying to flood her face. “In the right hands, yes.”
Yoko sighed loudly while rolling her eyes, “Fine. Enid, when are you going to start your cult?”
“I think I wanna graduate first,” the wolf said after an adorable snort of laughter. “Maybe between sophomore and junior year of college? Oh, what should my angle be?”
With no hope of stopping the flow of adoration, Wednesday spoke up. “You are the personification of love and the moon incarnate.” The seer continued, ignoring Enid’s- the rest of their friends, taking her love’s hands in her own, staring intently into her eyes. “In a world filled with misery and pain, you would be an avatar of peace and acceptance. Those blessed by your presence would instantly fall victim to your aura and gladly adore such a divine being.”
Silence lingered for a moment after the seer’s speech.
Divina cleared her throat a bit awkwardly, “I know this is all hypothetical, but holy shit can Wednesday sell worshiping Enid, the cult leader. Where do I sign up?”
“Underneath all that monochrome anger beats the heart of a romantic,” Bianca cooed teasingly, insufferably more than anything.
Enid threw herself at her lover, purposely almost knocking Wednesday over on the bench seat. “Damn right it does,” she purred as she tried to hug the life out of the seer.
This is precisely why I don’t usually partake in these conversations. The urge to shower my wolf with approbation is hard enough to contain without speaking. There is no internal filter strong enough to resist the devotion begging to fall from my lips. I can only hope my wolf follows through and suffocates me with her embrace and puts me out of my misery.
Whatever fear and mystic my reputation once held has surely been replaced with soft romanticism. I fear I’m no longer as intimidating as I once was and perhaps never will be again. I mourn the loss, painfully at times, but will gladly sacrifice it all again for just a moment of my wolf’s attention and affection.
“How can someone so socially awkward have so much rizz?” Yoko groaned into her hands. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
Divina rubbed soothing circles over the leech’s back. “It’s not a competition, Sweetie.”
“If anyone here has pressure to up their romantic-ness, it’s me,” Enid muttered, squeezing the seer once more before finally releasing her. “I kid you not, she’s made me swoon before.”
Wednesday felt a wave of indignation crest upon her. “You are more than adequate with your affection and love. I doubt my sanity would remain intact if I were any more smitten with you.”
“Is no one gonna take that? Really?” Bianca asked before muttering, “Low hanging fruit.”
“Are you claiming you were sane to begin with?!” Yoko shouted belatedly.
“Your wit is truly something to behold.” The seer sighed and focused again on the only person worth her time at the table. “The torment you inflict upon me is like none I have encountered before and, more often than not, leaves me overwhelmed in the best possible way.”
“Okay, this is getting a little too PG-13. I’m gonna walk Yoko to her next class before she gets herself staked.” Divina stood and pulled her girlfriend up with her.
“Make sure you get your head on straight before fencing,” Bianca added to the seer as she too stood.
“Okay, see you all later!” Enid shouted and waved as the group left the cafeteria. She turned back to Wednesday and blinded her with a luminous smile. “I kind of wanna skip the rest of today’s classes and torment you into insanity.”
A/N: Is it too much to ask to have her new girlfriend to herself before announcing their relationship to the world?
Yes, it is.
Wednesday gets over herself much to Enid's amusement.
___
“Please tell me you didn’t actually- What am I saying? Of course you did,” Bianca muttered to herself. “You know it actually explains a few things.”
I wasn’t given the chance to ask what exactly the siren meant - I’d have to interrogate her later about how my childhood experience of being held captive and witnessing an aunt die by electrocution might have affected my young psyche.
“Hey, Enid! Do you have a minute?”
Since returning to school, Enid has endured many new solicitations for her attention. Ever the kind hearted monster, my wolf has been patient and kind to all . . . deserved or not.
“Sure.” The werewolf leaned into Wednesday with a comforting, slightly-clawed hand on her shoulder as Enid stood and stepped over the bench seat. The two steps she took from the table still allowed their conversation to be heard.
Many of these solicitors wouldn’t have given Enid the time of day six months ago, but feel entitled to her time now, as if they were doing her an honor by conversing with her. The other werewolves are easily the worst offenders, both in number and entitlement.
Wednesday raised her gaze from her meal and met Yoko’s unimpressed look from across the table. Both of them had similar feelings about Enid’s new found popularity. They had a loose agreement, that Enid of course was unaware of, to cover for one another if either decided to follow up with any of the would be suitors. . . Yoko unfortunately insisted on light maiming only.
“I was wondering if you had any plans for spring break,” the stocky, interloping wolf asked the blonde. The confidence in his purposely lowered voice made Wednesday almost cringe.
I can’t see either of them, which I suppose is some relief. I doubt I’d be able to remain seated otherwise. The last time one of them dared to touch my beloved - well, Enid was adamant I take the violence down several notches in the future.
“I do actually-” Enid started to say brightly.
“My pack is hosting the jamboree this year!” he practically shouted over her. “It’ll be a great way to network with the biggest clans . . . maybe even find a mate.”
At the beginning of the semester, I promised Enid I wouldn’t consciously act in a way that would put myself at risk of expulsion. I have never wanted to break that promise more in my life.
Keeping her cool, as always, Enid kept her voice light. “That sounds super fun, but I’m going to be spending the week with a friend.”
We haven’t exactly announced our relationship to the public. Her- our friends know, but Enid has yet to post it to her blog at my request. I know for a fact Pugsley follows her and I don’t plan on allowing my parents to know I have fallen victim to love’s nefarious clutches just yet. I need time to mentally prepare myself for their inevitable onslaught of affection and knowing smirks from my mother.
His tone was dismissive, “But you can see your friends anytime, the jamboree only happens once a year! You don’t want to miss out on a chance to-”
I have to tune the whining whelp out if I want to avoid violence. That was the crux of the problem, I’ve always solved my problems offensively - physically or verbally and I’ve yet to find a suitable alternative. Threats are my life blood and without them I feel lost.
Enid’s attempt to shake him off was starting to sound strained, “I appreciate the offer, really, but-”
This problem is my own making - if I’d just let go of my desire for privacy . . . The solution is laughably simple.
Yoko, who looked on the verge of interrupting the wolves, shot Wednesday a look of warning as the seer suddenly stood and stepped up to roommate.
“Enid,” Wednesday cut in, “I’ve forgotten something in our room and have to leave.”
“What? Wends-” Enid’s face was crestfallen, on the verge of distraught.
“I will make it up to you tonight, I promise.”
Looking up into her dejected eyes is near agony. I will absolutely keep that promise.
Before leaving, the seer reached up to cradle her wolf’s face between her hands, gently pulling her down just a bit into a kiss.
Enid’s gasp of surprise sends a jolt of confidence down my spine and is all the encouragement I need to pull her addictive body closer. For a moment, I feel like growling, as if I’m the wolf staking her claim on her mate. Enid’s hands tight on my hips are all the acceptance I crave.
Behind us, I hear the vampire coughing violently, likely from Yoko inhaling her meal. The rest of the lunchroom has gone quiet save for poorly concealed whispers, but the obnoxious mutt hounding Enid earlier has yet to move.
“Uh, the fuck?” he nearly demands with a hint of disgust.
If he refuses to take the hint, I have no qualms about continuing to prove my dominance over the self-important wolf. Losing myself in Enid is dangerously easy. It takes all of my self control not to let my hands wander from her flushed cheeks.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
I feel Enid snicker into the kiss which has turned into a rather pleasant makeout session.
“My dude,” Yoko says loud enough for most of the room to hear, “I think that’s your cue to leave.”
I let my hands slide down to either side of Enid’s neck as I nibble her bottom lip. I’m fighting a smile and about to lose.
“Bitch,” he muttered as he stomped off.
Oh, I will be having a thorough discussion with him in the near future about manners and how to accept rejection gracefully.
Stepping away slowly, Wednesday faced her stunned but amused girlfriend. “Until tonight, mi amor.”
Enid was nearly trembling with excitement as she rather obviously resisted the urge to pull Wednesday back into her arms. “Okay.”
Truthfully, I’m not able to remain in the cafeteria much longer. The feeling reminds me of the ceremony after the Poe Cup, so many people rudely staring.
“OMG! Did that really just happen?” Enid stage-whispered to the table as Wednesday walked away.
Yes, my chromatic wolf and I have plans for you this evening. May the torment of my family’s curse I endure ever leave you enthralled for I have no desire for relief.
Wednesday finds herself on the wrong side of Enid's ire over a "prank."
And for the record, she is NOT afraid of Tanaka.
___
When approaching a potentially dangerous situation, I prefer to face it head on - with at least three knives on my person and a garrote. Unfortunately, physical weapons will be of little use for this particular situation.
“I admit to ensuring Barclay’s dinner contained scombrotoxin, but I did it as an act of comradery,” Wednesday explained with the barest hint of earnestness.
“Wednesday, you gave her food poisoning! How does that relate even remotely to comradery?!” Enid demanded.
Their shared room felt as if it were filled with static, both from the dry winter air and Enid’s mostly misplaced rage. Wednesday stood from her desk and met Enid in the center of the room, enduring the taller girl’s nearly wolfish glare. “Friends tease and prank each other, do they not?”
“Not by poisoning their food, Wednesday! I know you do that kind of thing at home with Pugsly, but most people don’t!” Enid’s fists clenched and relaxed a few times to keep her claws sheathed - a bit of a shame really.
“I’m confused,” Wednesday admitted, “didn’t Bianca poison Yoko the first week I was here?”
Enid opened her mouth, but words didn’t come. She huffed out a low growl and let her shoulders sag. “Yes, she did.”
“Are Bianca and Yoko not friends?”
“I mean, they aren’t close, but they’re both in that secret society you failed to tell me about.”
“It was embarrassingly beneath both myself and you. Is it acceptable to poison acquaintances I’m not close friends with?” Wednesday asked patiently.
Enid brought her hands together in front of her nose and mouth as if in prayer. “Wednesday, is it against the law to poison people without their knowledge?”
“That depends-”
“No, this is a yes or no question. Is it against the law to poison other people without their knowledge?”
The seer hesitated a moment. “Yes.”
“Okay, at least I don’t have to explain that to you.” The werewolf unclasped her hands and laid them on Wednesday’s shoulders. “If you are ever in doubt about if something is okay to do to another person, friend or not, ask yourself, is what I’m about to do illegal?”
“So, I shouldn’t have given Bianca food poisoning as a prank?”
“No, Wednesday, you shouldn’t have and next time you see her I want you to apologize for making her sick.”
“Even though she poisoned Yoko last semester?”
Enid squeezed Wednesday’s shoulders, letting a bit of her claws dig into her roomie. “Bianca shouldn’t have poisoned Yoko and I’m still annoyed at her for it, but I wouldn’t stoop to her level.”
Wednesday couldn’t fight the tiny smirk clawing its way onto her face. “Given my shorter stature, stooping to her level was much easier for me.”
Dead silence filled the room as Enid’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What? Wait-” She pushed against Wednesday’s shoulder, making the shorter girl step back. “Did you seriously just-” Despite the werewolf’s monumental efforts to remain serious and angry, Enid snorted and began to laugh.
Out of immediate danger, Wednesday allowed herself a moment of triumph and patiently waited for her roommate to collect herself.
“Wends,” Enid finally managed, “this is serious.”
“I’m aware. I have accepted that my current height will not be increasing.”
“Wednesday!” Enid shrieked through giggles.
The seer watched her with subdued and silent glee.
“I know what you’re doing.” Enid stepped closer to Wednesday and poked a finger sharply between the seer’s clavicles. “You will apologize and you will promise not to do anything like this again.”
The werewolf’s claw may have pierced skin, but Wednesday wasn’t about to tell her that . . . for reasons. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you with my childish antics and swear I will speak to Barclay as soon as I see her.”
“And?”
“And I promise not to poison any of our classmates again.”
Enid squinted and frowned. “I feel like you could have just said anyone instead of our classmates.”
“As you pointed out earlier, Pugsly and I poison each other as an act of sibling bonding.”
“Fine.” The blond huffed before turning, striding to her bed, and collapsing onto her stomach on it in exasperation.
Wednesday remained standing, unsure if she’d adequately remedied the situation. She glanced at Thing who shooed her toward Enid’s side of the room.
I admit I don’t often find myself needing to make amends or rather, feel the need to. With Enid, it’s different - it’s always been distressingly different.
She approached the pastel colored bed slowly, stopping a foot away. “Enid, I am truly sorry for upsetting you. I know I can be challenging to exist with . . . I will try to consider how my actions will affect you in the future.”
Enid rolled over and looked at her in puzzlement. “Wends, I’m not mad at you - well maybe a little bit. I’m more upset with myself for not being more angry with you.”
The werewolf sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I was annoyed you’d do something so stupid that could get you expelled. I like having you as my roommate and I don’t want to have a rehash of last semester. . . that and I think Bianca absolutely deserves whatever discomfort she’s in for her stunt before the Poe Cup,” she finished with a scowl.
Affection has been such a foreign concept for me for so long that I’m momentarily confused why I feel warmth begin to spread from my chest to the rest of my body. I practically grow feverish as I stare down at Enid. She stares at her bedspread, not meeting my eyes and I feel an overwhelming urge to reassure her.
“Enid, may I sit?”
Still looking grumpy and annoyed, the werewolf nodded.
I’ve been trying these last several weeks to emulate Enid’s methods for comforting others . . . which has involved more physical contact than I’d thought myself capable of. Small things like a tap on the shoulder or the squeeze of a hand, and sometime after nightmares an embrace. Each attempt reminds me of plunging one’s hand into honey - odd, but not unpleasant, with the feeling clinging to my skin long afterwards.
“I have a confession to make.”
Enid raised her head and frowned. “It wasn’t a prank?”
Wednesday nearly blushed at how easily her roommate could read her. “I . . . A friend spoke with me and . . . I greatly appreciated what was said . . . I’m not well versed at showing others this appreciation so I thought this gesture would convey that.”
“You poisoned Bianca,” the werewolf said slowly, “to thank someone - who I just assume is Yoko - for advice?”
“An oversimplification, but, yes.”
Charged silence sparked between them as Enid mulled over the confession. “Yoko must have given you some pretty good advice.”
Wednesday sighed, hesitated a moment, and then placed a cool hand on her roommate’s knee. “It wasn’t revolutionary, more of an observation . . . and a threat.” She muttered while rubbing small circles with her thumb.
There was a time when emotions were easy to hide, to lock deep in my heart without a hope for escape. I miss those times occasionally, being about to think clinically in every situation. Enid didn’t pick my locks, she simply clawed through the walls of their prison.
“You didn’t threaten her back?” Enid asked.
The smallest of smirks twitched on her lips. “I was not opposed to the terms of the threat - that and I was raised with a healthy respect for the undead.”
“Ooooh, I get it.”
Wednesday cocked her head slightly. “Get what?”
Enid’s grin was back in full force. “You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?”
Painfully warm blood filled the seer’s cheeks. “I fear her as much as I do you.”
A look of worry melted her roomie’s mirth. “Oh Wednesday, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. She won’t get to you while-”
Face absolutely burning, Wednesday lunged at Enid.
“Wends!” The wolf’s cackling laughter filled the room as Wednesday tried to pin Enid to her own bed, both with her hands and the seer’s murderous glare.
I’ve never been overly concerned about my below average size, but while I use every trick and technique I know to best her, Enid is still gleefully consumed with my embarrassment and not breaking a sweat while keeping me at bay. Grappling has never been a strength of mine as Enid is very quickly learning.
With almost no effort, Enid hooked a leg around Wednesday’s and flipped them. A minute later, the seer admitted defeat with only a glare . . . and her arms pinned above her head.
“You are so cute when you pout,” Enid cooed from her position straddling Wednesday’s hips.
“Keep talking, Sinclair. Dig yourself a deeper hole.”
“My mini murdering-machine, who will protect you if I'm not around?”
“I’ll simply adopt a chihuahua - by my estimation, that would provide equal protection.”
It was Enid’s turn to pout. “Rude.” She then let all of her weight fall onto Wednesday.
Air was forced from her lungs as the seer adjusted to pressure on her chest. “Enid . . . if this is . . . y- attempt at . . . smothering me . . .”
“Oh Wednesday, be both know I wouldn’t dream of hurting you.” Enid’s lips caressed the shell of her roomie’s ear. “This is . . . exposure therapy! Overwhelm you with physical contact now so you can handle smaller contact!”
At least now I can attribute my flushed face to exertion.
Wednesday squirmed until Enid lifted some of her mass from her chest. “That’s not how exposure therapy works. And I don’t think this will work.”
Propped up on her elbows, Enid rolled her eyes. “And why not?”
I am not, nor have I ever been a coward. I will not become one now.
“Because I tolerate physical contact with you very well.” Her hands slipped down to Enid’s hips. “I may even find a miniscule amount of enjoyment from it.”
Enid’s lips parted, a slightly bewildered smile still gracing them. “Wednesday Addams, are you going soft on me?” she whispered in awe.
Maintaining eye contact was proving to be a monument endeavor. “Only for you,” she admitted tenderly.
If Wednesday was going soft, Enid had melted into the finest silk. “Wends, are you-” Her voice was almost reverent. “Can I-”
Wednesday nodded before the werewolf could finish forming her thoughts.
I’ve never fully understood the appeal of physical affection, but staring into Enid’s wonder-struck face is certainly providing much appreciated context. Surrendering to desire, to her, doesn’t feel like a loss.
I feel the tip of Enid’s nose against mine a moment before her warm breath ghosts over my lips. She’s hesitating . . . No, she’s prolonging my torment. She moves from my mouth to my cheek and I feel her lips for the first time as they press against my flushed skin. Her lips must be coated with capsaicin, that is the only explanation for the fire she leaves in her wake.
Enid continued her tour of my face, minus my lips of course. Feather-light touches to my nose, across my forehead, to the other cheek, it was all I could do just to continue breathing. How had I never suspected this pastel colored wolf capable of such cruelty?
“Wends?”
A moment passed before the seer realized she was expected to reply. “Enid?”
“Still with me?”
It took every ounce of will to open my eyes, but oh, was it worth it. Enid’s pink cheeks complemented the tips of her hair and her smile could have been used as a beacon for the lost.
“Very,” she whispered.
“Good.”
Her palm is somehow warmer than my flushed cheeks and her thumb gently cradles the line of my jaw.. I can’t deny that I tried to rise to meet her lips only to feel her chuckle in my chest and her hand gently lead me back down to the bed. At that moment I realized I had never craved anything in my life more.
“Enid, please-”
I don’t even finish my plea before it’s answered. Her kiss is grounding, electrifying. She is the sun scorching my black soul and I eagerly bask in her radiance.
***
Earlier that day:
“Shoot! I think I left it in the dorm. I’ll be right back!”
Wednesday and Yoko watched Enid race out of the cafeteria with amusement. “Do you think she’ll be late for Bio? Yoko asked, grinning.
“I put the odds at 50-50.” Wednesday finished her coffee and moved to stand.
“You got a sec, Wednesday?”
While Yoko and Wednesday were friendly-ish, their relationship very obviously existed because of Enid. After a moment’s hesitation, “Yes.”
The vampire removed her sunglasses and stared at the goth with blood red eyes. “You’re an observant person, Addams. You can scope out a room and find at least half of the occupants’ weaknesses with just a glance.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Who is Enid’s weakness?”
Wednesday frowned and refused to break the staring contest between the two. “Her mother.”
Yoko shook her head. “That’s who hurts her the most. Who would Enid do anything for? Who would she risk life and limb for, has risked life and limb for?”
Guts suddenly in knots, Wednesday knew Yoko could sense her heart rate spike.
“We’re on the same page, good. You mentioned her mom? Then you know the shit she’s gone through. She deserves to be happy and for some fucked up reason,” Yoko lowered her voice, “she chose you. You have two options. Option A: you let her down gently and if you don’t I’ll bleed you dry. Option B: you give her the same devotion she gives you or I’ll bleed you dry. Any questions?”
Normally when threatened, Wednesday wouldn’t hesitate to call someone’s bluff, but there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Yoko meant every word she said - as Enid liked to phrase it, Yoko had zero chill in that moment.
“No, questions.”
***
The next day:
“Morning, Yoko!”
The vampire looked up from her phone and yelled back, “About time you got here!” She watched Enid roll her eyes and head for the breakfast line. A dark shadow split from the werewolf and headed for her table. “Addams . . . I heard Barclay is in the infirmary this morning with food poisoning.”
The goth set her bag on the table. “Is she? How unfortunate.”
Her smirk grew. “Indeed. Enid looks pretty happy this morning.”
Wednesday glanced toward the werewolf, a faint blush spreading across her face. “As she deserves to be.”
Yoko grinned wide enough to bare her fangs. “I knew you were a smart one. Keep her that way.”
Enid thinks Wednesday might be into her, but needs to talk it out.
___
If someone had to describe me in one word, it would probably be something bland like “personable” or “friendly.” I mean, fine I guess that would be true, but it bothers me. And by someone I mean Ajax.
Not that I’m saying Ajax bothers me - it just kind of seems like he should know me better by this stage of our relationship. Sure, we’d only been dating for like two weeks before classes ended, but even after a month together since coming back from break it still feels like we’re no closer to each other than when we first started dating.
I know I could just bring it up to him and we could talk like mature adults, but with wolfing out and all of the new shit that comes with that, it just seems so insignificant. I want someone who knows me without me having to explain all of it to them. Someone who understands when I’m extra fidgety or irritated it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be near them, it’s just a week before the full moon and my brain is still adjusting to everything.
I’m being selfish, but it’s hard not to be when it feels like someone else understands me better and might be trying to get my attention in a “more than friendly” way.
***
Calculus technically had seven minutes left, but nearly everyone had given up on starting today’s homework, including Enid.
“Do you think Weems is really okay with being undead?” she asked Yoko as she scrolled through her phone.
“Once you get over the trauma of dying, it’s not that bad - although that would assume your roomie got everything right.”
A dry voice in the row ahead of them inquired, “Are you asking for a demonstration? I’m curious to know if the process would work on a vampire.”
“Wednesday, while I would love a chance to peek at your ancestor’s book of black magic, I’m not that interested.”
The seer turned back to her assignment with a shrug. “Your loss.”
Yoko eyed the back of Wednesday's head nervously. “Enid, do I need to be concerned about how quickly she dropped that?”
The werewolf rolled her eyes and huffed an exasperated sigh. “Wednesday has agreed not to try out anything in that book on her - or my - friends.”
“Well thank god you’re friends with nearly everyone.”
“It does make things significantly more difficult,” Wednesday muttered as she turned a page in her textbook.
The bell rang and a flurry of haphazardly shoving possessions into bags preceded a mass exodus.
Nearly half the class followed the same path to fencing, which was quickly becoming one of Enid’s favorites since wolfing out. With her slightly heightened senses, she could almost predict when an attack would come just from her opponent’s breathing and heart rate . . . unless she was dueling Wednesday. No one should be able to control themselves as well as the seer does.
Enid was midway through changing in the locker room when she felt a cool hand carefully touch her bare shoulder.
“Enid, you forgot your calculator.”
The werewolf turned to see her vertically challenged roommate holding said device.
“Oh, thanks Wends.”
As Wednesday left to find her own locker, Enid was left with a strangely warm feeling in her chest. This wasn’t the first time the seer had retrieved something the werewolf had forgotten, but this was one of the first times she’d initiated physical contact.
***
Okay, so that might not seem like a big deal, but this is Wednesday Addams! She doesn’t like being touched or touching other people so, yeah it kind of is a huge deal. She could have just said my name to get my attention, but she went further.
I’m not saying this is proof of some deep, romantic feelings, but it was the start of a trend. Nearly everyday since then, she’s voluntarily touched me, whether to get my attention or to express some emotion she can’t be bothered to voice. A nudge, standing closer than her personal space usually allows - it’s just novel enough to be noticeable.
It took every ounce of my nearly limitless supply of patience not to comment on it. It’s absolutely driving me insane not knowing exactly why Wednesday’s gotten more touchy-feely, but I’m trying to give her the social space she usually needs. I have theories, but . . .yeah.
***
Enid was running late, like “I might actually miss the beginning of class” late. It was her own fault for staying up late to argue with anons on reddit about the politics surrounding pack law, but sometimes you just gotta get shit off your chest.
Wednesday did try to get her moving forty-five minutes ago, but being the idiot Enid is, the werewolf made the mistake of laying back down once her roomie had left for breakfast. So here Enid was, jogging across the quad without breakfast to first period world history.
Technically walking into class as the bell is ringing, isn’t late, right? Either way, she muttered an apology to the professor as she hurried to her seat.
Dropping moodily into her seat, Enid didn’t miss Wednesday’s raised eyebrow. The taller girl mouthed “I know” and began pulling her notes from her bag. When she looked back up to her desk, Enid found a breakfast sandwich in front of her. “Did you?” she mouthed to Wednesday who simply nodded in return.
***
So like with the causal touches, that wasn’t a one off thing either. Whenever I was running late, she’d make sure to have something for me, usually one of my favorites, and she started getting dessert at lunch and dinner just to give to me because she knows I have a huge sweet tooth.
And then there’s the nights one of us has to wake the other from a nightmare-
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you there, Enid,” Bianca spat as she rubbed her temples.
Xavier sighed and let his face fall into his hands. “Why are you telling us this and not Yoko?” came his muffled voice.
Enid huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I already have, but like any good journalist, I’m seeking out multiple opinions on the situation.”
“By informing us of your conclusions before we can make our own?” the siren quipped.
“Well, I guess . . . shoot.” Enid copied Xavier and dropped her face into her hands. Maybe asking her fellow “Spring Fling!” planners wasn’t her smartest decision . . .especially since Xavier and Ajax were super tight.
“I’m confused about what you want from us,” Xavier stated as he sat up. “Do you like Wednesday? Are you breaking up with Ajax?”
“I don’t know,” Enid admitted. “I mean, I don’t want to misinterpret her intentions and make her feel like she’s done anything wrong, but I don’t want to ignore it either if she is trying to get my attention.”
“First thing you need to do is break up with Ajax,” Bianca stated.
“Wait, what?” Xavier demanded. “Enid said it herself he’s done nothing wrong.”
“True, but she already has one foot out the door. He deserves to be with someone as invested in the relationship as he is.”
Enid shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yeah, he does.”
“Second thing you need to do is tell Wednesday you’ve broken up with him.”
“You think she’s just going to admit to liking Enid once she finds out she’s single?”
Bianca glared at Xavier, “Our resident goth isn’t known for being shy.” Her face softened as she turned to Enid, “I’m not saying she’s going to spill her guts to you instantly, but if she is interested, she might up her game a bit.”
“Or you could just tell her you like her,” Xavier muttered with a scowl.
“Wednesday . . . is like a feral cat looking for a home,” Enid said slowly. “She’s spent most of her life surviving alone, but she’s realized there’s a better way to live. If I confront her suddenly, she might get spooked and bolt.”
“So the third thing you need to do . . . Sweetie, you need to flirt with her and make it kind of obvious,” Bianca explained patiently. “Though I have no idea where you’d even begin with that girl.”
“I have a few ideas,” Enid muttered with a faraway look. A moment later, she focused back on the group in front of her. “Thank you so much for listening. I’m so sorry for dumping this on you both out of nowhere. It’s just been going around in circles in my head for ages and - I’ll make it up to you! I volunteer to coordinate the food and drinks while you two get to do the music and decorations.”
Bianca nodded immediately. “Let’s just go with that and end things for tonight. I think we all have plenty to think about.”
“Sure,” Xavier pouted.
“Okay, thanks guys. You’re the best!”
Bianca and Xavier watched the werewolf rush from the room. “So, still nursing that crush I see?”
“No,” Xavier insisted. “I know she doesn’t like me that way. It’s just that it was easier to deal with before I found out she liked someone else.”
Bianca gave him the driest look the siren could manage.
“Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”
“Hurts doesn’t it?”
Xavier sighed tiredly. “At least it’s not Tyler this time.”
Wednesday tries basic communication. Enid is very confused.
___
To find something truly terrifying, enough so that it hunts one’s dreams and lurks just out of sight while awake, has been and will likely continue to be a life goal of mine.
Climate change and society’s inevitable collapse should provide an ample amount of impending horror but unless one is living through either in a noticeable way, they’re just abstract concepts, easily ignored and forgotten.
Being stabbed through the gut and feeling life slowly drain from my body was a type of terror for reasons I was not, and admittedly am still not, ready to confront. I have never feared death; the fear I felt was for those I’d failed by not preventing either three monsters from hurting the innocent.
I also endured a good deal of pain, more than I’d have preferred to be honest, but that wasn’t quite as debilitating as the feeling of failure.
With that in mind, it did not surprise me to find myself bolting up in bed, drenched in sweat in the small hours of the morning.
Sharp gasps hammered Wednesday’s ribs as she tried to coax enough air into her lungs. Trembling hands clenched at her scratchy wool blanket as her eyes scanned her childhood room. Half finished projects, most involving novel methods of execution, cast long and menacing shadows onto the walls and floor. An assortment of carnivorous plants her mother had grown from seedlings sat mostly motionless in front of her west-facing window. The new snood Enid had gifted her rested on her bedside table, neatly folded.
As her pulse slowed, images of bulging-eyed monsters and resurrected murders faded.
I adore this feeling, but not so much the dreams that cause them.
Wednesday blindly reached for the hand knitted . . . scarf, hood thing and wrapped it around her hand. She tried not to dwell too much on why the stupid snood soothed her tormented mind.
Enid had been on her mind an almost distressing amount since Wednesday had returned from San Francisco and met the werewolf’s family. The seer’s waking hours were often spent contemplating unique ways to torment her friend’s family, particularly the matriarch, while dreams forced Wednesday to watch her closest friend disemboweled or poisoned or shot or . . .
Things will be easier once we’re sleeping in the same room again. This separation shouldn’t be fraying my nerves. Enid is on the other side of the country from Nevermore and the danger there . There is nothing to worry about.
And just to prove this to herself, Wednesday unlocked her phone and opened Enid’s favorite ridiculously named social media app. As expected, a post not even thirty minutes old appeared on her feed.
Enid is fine and . . . lamenting about her mother. Hm, she is not in her usual peppy mood.
Wednesday switched apps.
WA: What happened?
Thirty seconds passed.
ES: y do u ask
Of course Enid was awake. WA: Your latest post seemed rather querulous.
ES: which 1
WA: The bird app.
ES: o
ES: yeah mom was needling me again
ES: like youd thing wolfing out would of made her happy
ES: but i guess not
ES: what if i dont wanta be head of my own pack like her
ES: god forbid im not her exact clone in every way
ES: sorry
ES: i might have raided our liquor cabinet
ES: yru up
ES: isnt it the asscrack of dawn there
WA: I couldn’t fall asleep. My offer still stands regarding your mother if you ever change your mind.
ES: its starting to grow on me
ES: to be clear i am NOT giving you permission to duel my mother in her wolf form
WA: That’s a shame. It’s on my bucket list.
ES: no it isnt
WA: It has been since meeting your family in California. I will not stomach anyone slandering you in such a way.
ES: thats actually kinda sweet
No, it’s protective and violent. WA: I’m going to bed. Don’t drink too much.
ES: ah u really do care
ES: good night bestie
Wednesday huffed and let herself fall back onto her pillow.
What is wrong with me?
***
I am not above recognizing my own deficiencies. Honest self-reflection has never bothered me in the past . . . nor does it now.
I’m just not sure I can reign in this particular deficiency.
Sitting at her centuries old desk in her childhood bedroom and not working on her next novel, Wednesday stared intently at the glossy screen of her smartphone.
Is it really a deficiency though? No, stop. I decided I’d try and if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. Enid will understand either way.
The seer wasn’t about to change herself for anyone; only the spineless and the cowardly would do such a thing and she was neither. Wednesday had conducted a thorough and unbiased examination of the last several months of her life and had come to several conclusions.
First, her refusal to trust anyone was proving to be a far greater hindrance than asset. Second, cultivating trust produced value allies, however grating the process was. And third, emotions of others, while usually unnecessary and easily exploited, mattered - acquaintances, allies . . . friends were not resources to carelessly use without expectation of providing something in return. It was the ‘something in return ’ part she was having the most trouble with.
I can respect the contributions of the people around me, that’s not difficult. What is difficult is providing them with adequate compensation for said contributions. What do people crave from interactions with others? Validation, companionship? Neither am I skilled at providing.
This is how Wednesday found herself falling deep into a Youtube rabbit hole. Too many people had advice to give to the socially . . . impaired . Some of it was inane drivel about boosting one’s self confidence. Some of them decried the need for human interaction - those videos usually devolved into rants endorsing toxic masculinity, nationalism, or severe antisocial behavior. The latter she didn’t mind, but wasn’t of any help with her problem.
Whether as a cruel twist of fate or as a sign of just how lost she truly was, the most useful advice came from the channels of therapists. So here Wednesday was, on her last night before heading back to Nevermore, learning how to communicate with other humans via the internet.
Enid deserves validation and companionship. And now that I know what she deals with at home, it’s even more imperative that I at least try.
San Francisco was warm, colorful, and full of life - just like Enid. It would have been borderline hellish if not for the almost constant drizzle of the approaching California winter. The werewolf’s insistence on showing Wednesday the wharf and its many tourist attractions was tedious, but well rewarded with a ferry ride to Alcatraz prison. Chinatown wasn’t too bad either.
Her . . . bestie’s home was outside of the massive city and its suburbs in the mountains. It was a massive stretch of wilderness shared by several other werewolf families with beautiful rustic homes built to withstand the elements and lycanthropes alike. It was like visiting an enormous, unfenced kennel.
Enid’s mother is the type of blunt I sometimes wish Mother would be, but it’s obvious it’s not what Enid wants or needs in her life. The werewolf’s cool demeanor towards her mother also gave me a sense of deja vu.
But where Wednesday’s mother was warm and supportive, ignoring any subterfuge that was likely beneath that surface , Enid’s mother was more akin to a tiresome hag. Her brothers and cousins were simply obnoxious, yippy dogs. Enid was treated as an outsider in her own pack, but not by her choice.
Enid is at least twice the wolf any of them are. She deserves to be treated as such.
***
“Wednesday!” came the shrill cry of Wednesday’s roommate across the quad.
So cheerful I feel the need to visit a cemetery. Don’t ever change, Enid. “Enid,” and after a moment’s hesitation, “how was the rest of your time at home?”
The question took her by surprise, but Enid recovered quickly, “Oh, you know, lots of runs in the woods between updating my blog and avoiding my mom. Hey, did you hear-”
No, Wednesday had not heard the latest gossip about . . . Shit, who are we talking about? It’s so hard to care about adolescent drama.
Fortunately the internet had prepared her for this. Wednesday muttered the appropriate exclamations of wonder when appropriate as they walked, but for some reason Enid shot her several confused glances. Perhaps I didn’t get that interaction quite right.
“Nevermind, what’s been going on with you?” Enid asked as they mounted the stairs to their room. “I haven’t heard from you for over a week. I almost thought you found another murder that needed solving.”
“If only that were the case, my life would have been far more interesting,” she said drily. “I was familiarizing myself with the internet.”
Enid stopped and let her jaw hang open for a moment. “Don’t tell me you were ghosting me to watch porn.”
“What? No, of course not.” Wednesday had admittedly stumbled across several pornographic videos, but found them tacky, unbelievable, and egotistical - not even slightly arousing.
Enid snickered and raced past Wednesday. “Are you sure? I’m surprised you even know what porn is.”
Don’t snap back. Be nice. “Pornography is likely as old as humanity itself.”
The wolf pushed through the door to their room. “You have me there. So what did you learn?” She dropped her bag on the floor by her bed before falling dramatically onto the stripped mattress.
“That the internet is populated by faceless cowards hiding behind anonymity in order to spew hateful garbage.” Wednesday set her things on her desk and began putting them away. “And that the internet loves cats.”
Enid snorted before rolling onto her stomach, watching Wednesday work. “Everyone loves tiny, cute, killing machines. Hm, I bet the internet would love you.”
Wednesday glanced over her shoulder to see her roommate’s playful smile. “Why would the internet love me?”
“Because you’re a tiny, cute killing machine,” she said, failing to hold back her laughter.
The glare the seer shot her would have killed a normie. “Hilarious.” Wednesday turned back around, hoping the warmth in her cheeks hadn’t been noticed. What the hell is wrong with me? Pull yourself together before-
“Hey, Wednesday? Is everything okay?” Wednesday heard Enid sit up on her bed. “You’ve been acting weird - weirder than normal.”
I suppose that is a pretty good indicator of how well my attempts at socializing are going. Wednesday stopped her obsessive organizing and walked to the line dividing their shared room. “I was trying something new. I’ve spent the last week learning how to be less . . . cold to the people in my life I value.”
Enid rose and walked to meet her at the center of the room. “You're trying to be less . . . you? ”
Wednesday felt her fists clench before relaxing them. “I’m trying to be aware of how I treat others.”
“But that’s not something you do.”
“I know.” Frustration with herself was rising from a simmer to a near boil. “Just because I have rejected emotions doesn’t mean I should disregard those of my friends.”
Enid frowned and rocked from one foot to the other. “And you’re doing that by not teasing me?”
“I -” Wednesday felt like she was missing something very obvious. “Is that not what I should be doing?”
The werewolf frowned while still managing to smile. “Wends, we work because we challenge each other. I’m not saying you shouldn’t think about other people’s feelings, but . . . I like the playfully mean side of you.”
“Who said I was playing?”
“Exactly!”
Wednesday sighed, glancing at the room’s massive window. “I admittedly still don’t care about other people’s feelings . . . just yours.”
“What?”
The urge to attribute her own emotions to Thing was nearly unbearable. “You have proven yourself time and again to be worth- You are important . . . to me. I value your contributions to our companionship, though I’m not at all skilled at expressing that. You deserve to be appreciated.”
Silence from the werewolf pulled Wednesday’s eyes from the window to Enid. Was her friend on the verge of tears? “Enid, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset-”
“Wends?”
She hesitated a moment, “Yes?”
“Can I hug you?” Enid’s watery eyes bore down on the seer like the crushing pressure at the bottom of the ocean.
And like the rusted metal walls of a sunken ship, Wednesday crumbled and nodded.
“You are so f-ing weird sometimes,” Enid muttered shakily. She pulled the seer to herself tightly. “I’m not upset, Wends. I’m overwhelmed. I think that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me and I know how brutally honest you are - that just . . . magnifies everything you said.”
Wednesday felt so far out of her depth, so lost for words, she simply held her tighter, hoping it would communicate . . . something positive to her roommate.
“Thank you, Wednesday.” Whatever Enid interpreted from the gesture must have been the right thing to do.
It was many moments later when they finally separated. Wednesday once again couldn’t meet Enid’s eyes. “I will try to balance being cruel to you and appreciating you better in the future.”
The werewolf snorted. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. But seriously Wends, you express yourself better than you give yourself credit for. I’ll let you know if you’re being too much of a jerk.”
“That would be acceptable,” Wednesday conceded.
Many hours later, as they were both settling into their respective beds for the night, Enid locked her phone and muttered just loud enough to be heard by her roommate, “You know, for someone who isn’t a hugger, you sure do give great hugs.”
Across the room, warmth spread from Wednesday’s neck up through her face. “Go to sleep, Enid.”
After a night of trauma induced dreams, Wednesday and Enid become each other's heroes.
Wednesday also confronts feelings for her bestie.
---
In the deepest, darkest hours of the night, when one’s subconscious is free to run amuck, horror often lurks. Waking in terror and confusion, cortisol and adrenaline flooding the body, elevating blood pressure and heart rate, no other feeling better encapsulates life, mortality. For obvious reasons, this is my favorite time of day . . . usually.
Tonight, not so much.
A sharp gasp reverberated through Wednesday’s shared bedroom as she shot up in bed.
My first therapist said my love of fear was a type of excitation transfer response - a type of physical and psychological excitement from fright; that hasn’t changed. I’m no stranger to night terrors or bad dreams, but I learned at an early age to embrace the feelings they caused and turn them into something almost pleasurable.
Dark eyes scanned the quiet room as sweat beaded at her hairline and lower back.
Over time, my hellish, night time visions became comforting, a constant I could rely on. Now, the dreams have changed into something else.
Flashes of her dream raced through Wednesday’s mind in the dark - Enid dying at Tyler’s feet, Enid poisoned by Gates, Enid stabbed through the gut by a psychotic ghost.
I will always love the feelings fear invokes - not so much the cause anymore.
Heart rate slowing, Wednesday sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest. A bit of PTSD seemed to be a small price to pay for remaining part of the living after the last few months.
It’s also in times like these that I can feel the other soul inhabiting my body. True to her word, Goody hasn’t reappeared, but that doesn’t mean she’s staying silent and in the shadows.
The familiar wave of post-terror dopamine crested and nearly drowned the seer. Eyes rolling back, goose-bumps rising on her flesh, Wednesday let her limbs relax and fell heavily back onto the bed. She . . . felt the other soul, not in a concrete way, but Wednesday knew Goody was there trying to comfort her anxious mind.
I’ve spent most of my life relying only on myself, not trusting anyone else. It’s been a bit of an adjustment learning to accept the spirit’s presence to say the least.
Wednesday looked to the other side of the room. Under the pastel colored sheets, Enid was little more than a small, quivering lump on the bed.
Unfortunately, I am not the only one plagued with nightmares.
Kicking off her blankets, Wednesday crept to her feet towards her nearly gently whimpering roommate.
Enid suffers because of what I put her through. Her dreams are the result of knowing me. I am toxic and hurt everyone I care for.
Wednesday stopped beside Enid’s bed and whispered, “Enid . . . Enid, it’s just a dream. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay, but that’s what people say when they comfort others, right? I can feel Goody coaxing me closer to my best friend, trying to smother my self-hatred with action.
A black nailed hand gently gripped Enid’s shoulder and shook it. “Enid, wake up.”
This isn’t the first time either of us has woken the other like this. Enid usually tosses a stuffed animal at me - I pulled a knife on her the first time she pulled me from a dream. I still approach Enid, much to her annoyance.
Enid’s claws weren’t fully extended when she took a swipe at Wednesday. It’s expected and the seer simply took a step out of range. “Enid, it’s just a dream. You’re safe.”
“Shit, sorry.” Enid breathed heavily for a moment and retracted. The bags under her eyes almost rivaled Wednesday’s. “You can’t keep doing this. One of these times I’m going to hurt you.”
It would be no less than I deserve.
Taking a step toward the bed, Wednesday placed a hand on Enid’s knee that the werewolf immediately clutched in both of hers. “That’s what makes it fun.”
The old me would never have initiated physical contact let alone wake someone from a nightmare. It’s still uncomfortable, foreign even, but I’m trying to think of Enid’s needs too.
Enid sighed and rolled her eyes, “Idiot.”
“Your idiot.”
I’m trying my best to distract her and some deep, dark part of me enjoys the sound of Enid’s laugh.
“My tiny, lethal idiot.”
I’m too tired to be insulted - weeks of interrupted sleep are making me sluggish.
Wednesday squeezed her hand. “Do you want to talk about the dream?”
That’s what people are supposed to ask, right?
Enid shook her head. “Nothing new. Did I wake you?”
I’m trying not to deflect, but the urge is strong.
“No, I was already awake.”
The look on Enid’s face tells me my half truth has been extrapolated into the full.
“Are you able to stay?”
I am convinced Enid is the single most patient person I’ve ever met. I will never ask to share a bed, but Enid knows it helps both of us on nights like this.
Though unable to meet her eyes, Wednesday nodded.
Shared trauma has a way of forging bonds deeper than I had ever expected - I don’t dread climbing into Enid’s bed and arms. She is safety and care personified and I fear I’ve become dependent.
Warm breath caressed Wednesday’s ear once she settled onto her back, “Still freezing, I see.”
I’m not afraid of many things, but the warmth that settles low in my guts at Enid’s nearness is damn near terrifying.
“Someone has to cool you down, you furry furnace,” Wednesday mutters as she wraps her arm around her roommate and pulls her closer until Enid is half laying on top of her.
“You love it.”
The small, fragile part of my psyche I’ve had under lock and key for so many years nearly escapes. It stains through the bars of its cell, reaching for Enid. I’m too exhausted to beat it back.
“I wouldn’t be here if I detested it,” Wednesday admits. She turns her head enough to bury her nose in Enid’s hair. “It must be some evolutionary response I have no hope of ignoring.”
I suspect Goody may be partly to blame for my emotional confession. She must be controlling the amount of dopamine I feel when I hold my ”bestie.”
Enid’s sigh isn’t without mirth. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’ve succumbed to something as pedestrian as cuddles .”
I’m horrified at how much I would readily “succumb” to in the name of Enid’s comfort and happiness. I am my father’s daughter and it sickens me enormously.
“I owe you a blood debt. Only you will ever receive my cuddles.” Wednesday’s arm around Enid’s back tightens before relaxing again. “You have until I’ve repaid my debt.”
I don’t tell her the truth of course - she will always receive whatever she wants from me, debt repaid or not.
“I better make the most of this then.” Enid exhales slowly and becomes boneless. “G’night, Wends.”
“Good night, Pup.”
Of all the different types of torment I’ve endured over my short life, Enid is easily the greatest. I will protect this woman with my life, but can’t ensure her happiness and it’s killing me. She loves another and I . . . am not fit for such a precious gift. Her companionship is more than I deserve and I accept it greedily. She is in my arms tonight and that is enough.
***
Wednesday wakes the next morning with a start. Not as violent as last night’s nightmare, but enough that she’s nearly high off the adrenaline. Wild eyes dart as she takes in the pressure on her chest and legs.
Enid has almost climbed on top of her in her sleep. The arm around Wednesday’s waist has drifted up and the werewolf’s hand now rests just below the startled girl’s breast. Twitching unconsciously, Enid’s thumb grazes the underside of Wednesday’s chest.
“ Shit,” Wednesday mouths wordlessly. Heat is flooding her face and chest and it’s taking all of her concentration to keep her respiration even.
I am undone by the slightest of touches.
A hand raises to cup the werewolf’s wandering hand, but hesitates, then falls back to Wednesday’s side. The smallest of smiles infects her lips.
Torture without malice - Enid is truly gifted. Who am I to end such exquisite torment?
Bonus:
Enid wakes to Thing tapping the back of head and opens her eyes to pale collar bones and a soft black shirt. She and Wednesday are sharing her bed again and Enid can't ignore the warm feeling of triumph. Distant, seemingly emotionless Wednesday Addams is cuddling with her.
Before she can revel too long, Enid realizes why Thing woke her - she's nearly copping a feel of her sleeping roommate. She freezes and does her best not to wake Wednesday.
What the f?! What the fuck?! Okay, stay calm- wow, this must be the only part of her that's warm. No, focus. Take it slow.
Moving at glacial speeds, Enid slides her hand to a much safer spot lower on Wednesday's rib cage. Thing slinks quietly into view by her roommate's shoulder as Enid feels her panic subside. He's smiling and rolling his non-existent eyes, she's pretty sure anyway. She fixes him with a glare and signs, "Not a word."
As Thing shrugs and hops off the bed, Enid closes her eyes and tries to drift off to sleep again - a bit of a challenge with the butterflies fluttering her stomach.
Burn it all down - A slow burn, Piltover's finest story set after the finale.
Chapter 1: Too Much Trauma for Two People
***
“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”
Vi tore her eyes from the memorial mural and turned to find Ekko glaring at her. “What did I do now?”
The Firelight rolled his eyes. “Get up, I need your help with something.”
Someone’s in a mood. She pushed herself up from her spot on the grass and followed his limping form across the yard toward a set of practice dummies and a group of pre-teens.
For the last two days, Ekko had let Vi sit in the grass in front of the giant tree staring at her lost family. She hadn’t felt much admittedly, mostly a numbing melancholy that left her apathetic to the world around her.
“I can’t help Scar with training so you’re going to fill in for me,” Ekko stated without looking back at Vi.
“I’m doing what now?”
Ekko stopped and turned to her. “Everyone earns their keep here. Not everyone has to fight, but those that want to need to be trained. These kids hopefully won’t see combat for at least another year, but with how many people we’ve lost this week alone . . . we need to prepare for the worst.”
This isn’t a good idea. Vi frowned and chose her words carefully. “Is this really what it’s come to? That kid by the heavy bag can’t be older than ten and you want me to teach him how to throw a punch?”
Ekko shrugged. “I was his age when I started learning from you.”
Vi stared down at her feet and clenched her fists. “That doesn’t make what I did then right.”
“Okay, what the hell?” Ekko demanded as he limped into her personal space. “You and Vander were all about being prepared for anything and now you’re what? A pacifist?”
“WHAT GOOD DID ANY OF IT DO!” Vi roared. Red-hot frustration clouded her mind as she turned and began to pace, her arms restlessly gesturing “Everything Vander did was for nothing! There’s no changing how things are! If you want to help these kids, keep them out of the Undercity streets, teach them something that can get them Topside. Who are they going to fight down here? Topside? The gangs? How’s that been going for you?”
The leader of the Firelights watched her, looking thoroughly unaffected by his friend’s rant. “So we should just lay down and die?”
“What? No, weren’t you listening?” Vi’s hand waving exaggerated. “Keep your head down and help who you can. What are you trying to accomplish by fighting everyone on all sides?” How could he not see how useless fighting was? It only ever gets people killed.
Ekko was still maddingly calm. “And how are we supposed to get the supplies to help people? Hope some naive Piltie stumbles across us?”
Vi rolled her eyes and sighed. “The way we always have, stealing from Pilties or has that changed too since I’ve been gone?”
A small grin slipped onto Ekko’s face. “Nah, that’s still the best. But Vi, we have a former councilor and the daughter of a councilor on our side now. It’d be idiotic to turn their help down. We’ve never had help from Topside like this.”
Vi shook her head with a scowl. “There’s always something in it for them. No one does anything for free up there.” She rolled her shoulders and let out a sigh. “How can we trust them to stay on our side now after what Pow-Jinx did? They’ll want blood-”
“Not all of them,” Ekko interjected. He stared at her carefully, his brows furrowed, before asking, “What did Caitlyn do to you that fucked this up? Two days ago you told me I could trust her - what’s changed?”
Vi looked away into the distance, a mist of guilt falling over her. The problem was never Cait, it’s the system. “She didn’t do anything wrong. I just finally remembered what life was really like. She did what she could, but it wasn’t enough to convince the council.” Vi ran her hands through her hair. “They didn’t give a damn what was going on in the Trenches unless it was killing enforcers.” She shook her head. “Cait was the first person in years to see me as a person and I guess I thought things could be different, that maybe to fix this mess we needed to work together. . . Caitlyn and the professor are just two good people in an entire city of apathetic assholes.”
Silence fell between them. The sun continued to shine, the insects kept chirping, and the hum of hoverboards surrounded them. Ekko placed a hand on Vi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you’ve been through so much. I’m sorry that . . . hope is something dangerous. You don’t have to be on your own anymore. I want you to stay. I want to help you adjust to life on the outside again. I just need you to give us and what we’re trying to do a chance. I don’t expect you to fight for us or become a Firelight. I just want to help my friend get her ass off the ground and remember what it’s like to live, not just survive”
His hand might as well have been in one of Vi’s gauntlets; it was so heavy and encompassing. Her every instinct told her to close up - trust no one - but fuck was it lonely being alone. Vi may have lost nearly everyone in her life, but she still had Ekko, still had a reason to keep going.
She blinked the tears from her eyes and pulled him into a hug. “Okay,” Vi muttered when they parted, “let’s hope these kids catch on faster than you.”
Ekko shoved her away. “Yeah, let’s hope they learn to block too, asshole.”
***
She truly is a parasite of a woman. Caitlyn reached for the tea cup on the coffee table around which she, her dad, and Ambessa Medarda sat.
“I’m sure you can see the benefits of my offer,” the older woman declared with an almost apathetic confidence. She relaxed in her chair as if it’d been hers for years. “It’s only a matter of time before there’s another attack and Piltover isn’t ready.”
As the acting matriarch of House Kiramman and her mother’s alternate on the council, Caitlyn suddenly found herself with all of the power and influence she’d desperately needed days ago. Now, it was like a tightening noose and the Noxian warlord was one of many pulling on the rope.
“Enforcers have lost staggering numbers in the last week alone,” Caitlyn conceded. “Simply cutting off access between the two cities is no longer enough to ensure Piltover’s safety.”
“By allowing my troops into the Undercity,” Medarda added, “you’ll have the resources needed to hunt down those responsible.”
“In exchange for our subservience.” Caitlyn sipped her tea without emotion. Over my dead body . . . maybe not an appropriate metaphor given the last few days.
“A colony of Noxus benefits from everything our empire has, including military protection.” Medarda lazily picked from the finger food tray Mary had laid out, finishing a sizable eclair in two bites.
Caitlyn continued to maintain eye contact as she had the entire meeting - a bit of a challenge with two black eyes caked in coverup. “The City of Progress, a colony of Noxus?” she mused to herself in a serious tone. “Can Noxus truly provide Piltover with more than Piltover can give Noxus?”
“Can you put a price on the safety of your citizens?” the warlord asked. She cocked her head and gave Caitlyn a grave look. “Can your city survive the civil war that has already started? How many more will die in the fighting?”
A corner of Caitlyn’s mouth twitched upward at this woman’s blatant hypocrisy. None of that has stopped you in the past obviously. “Access to the Hexgates in exchange for an army? Can you imagine the reach of Noxus?” the younger woman mused in slight wonder. “An army on another continent could be in Piltover in mere seconds.”
“A peacekeeping force ready to aid a colony at a moment’s notice,” Medarda agreed patiently.
“Having Piltover as a colony would exponentially increase the strength of Noxus’ military,” Caitlyn stated as she set her cup on the table, “A single peacekeeping force is hardly an even trade.” Nothing is worth empowering Noxus in any way.
To her credit, the warlord didn’t look dismayed. “An oversimplification of the benefits of belonging to the empire-”
“It is the only benefit useful to Piltover, Lady Medarda.” Caitlyn interjected, her patience paper-thin. “Were this simply about reopening trade between Noxus, that would be a different story. As the situation stands, I will not be voting in favor of the colonization of my city.” Caitlyn’s headache throbbed steadily, almost in time with that in her shrapnel wound. What I wouldn’t give to escort her out at the barrel of Dad’s repeater.
Undeterred, Medarda grinned wolfishly. “And if Noxus was offering military aid in exchange for a favorable trade agreement?”
Caitlyn’s smile was a bit more subdued as she folded her hands in her lap. “The answer would still be no, but I would perhaps give the offer a moment’s extra consideration.”
“I see.” The older woman stood, looking at the younger woman with an expression that hinted at pity. “I understand this is a difficult time for you, but remember your burden can be shared. We can bring your mother’s murderer to justice together should you have a change of heart.”
Caitlyn stood slowly, partly as a show of patience and partly due to her leg and ribs making themselves fucking nuisances. “Cassandra Kiramman is in a coma, Lady Medarda, and I’m afraid I am out of time for today.”
“Hmm. Should you wish to discuss either offer further, I can of course be found at House Medarda.” She led the way to the door where her guards were waiting. Medarda turned and addressed Caitlyn once more. “Anger and youth are a powerful combination, Caitlyn. Left unguided, they are useless, but with my help you could change Piltover for the better.”
The young councilor scoffed softly. Go fuck yourself. “Lady Medarda, the world knows what your help creates. Please enjoy the rest of this lovely day.”
With the Noxians finally gone, Caitlyn let out the frustrated sigh she’d been holding for over an hour. “Damn that woman.”
“You did well, darling,” Tobias said soothingly as he handed her the crutch. He’d been silent the entire meeting aside for pleasantries, but ready to act on his daughter’s behalf if needed. “Your mother would be proud.”
Would she? Mother would have made peace with a crime lord to save Piltover; is Noxus that different? “I’ve been a counselor for a day and I’m already sick of it.” Caitlyn hobbled back to her chair. “This is an entirely joyless job.”
It’d been three very long and numb days since she’d arrived home. When Caitlyn woke in a fog in her parents’ bed the first day, she nearly jumped to her feet in search of her mother. Her mother’s maid had caught Caitlyn before she collapsed from her injuries and put the younger woman back to bed. The second time Caitlyn woke, her father was there.
“Should we reschedule the rest of today’s meetings?” Tobias asked in light concern.
Caitlyn tried not to think about her visit with her mother. She tried not to think about how startling it was that she was still clinging to life given the extent of her injuries. Above all, she tried not to think about how broken her father had looked in the room with her, how he’d seemed to have given up hope yet wouldn’t squash Caitlyn’s.
Only if I can avoid these meetings forever. “No, I don’t think any of this can wait.”
Jayce had visited the second day. He was as despondent as after his trial all those years ago. They might have wept in each other’s arms - Caitlyn’s memories of that day were hazy with grief.
Today marked Caitlyn’s first official day as Counselor. One meeting down, several more to go. She avoided contemplating how long she’d have to fill that role. A part of her still felt like it was back in the undercity, that that was where she was really needed.
Or maybe she just missed one specific person, a person hellbent on avoiding Caitlyn, Piltover, and the council.
I wonder what Vi hates more, enforcers or councilors?
Burn it all down - a slow burn, Piltover's finest story. Set after the finale, these ladies have some trauma to work through.
Chapter 1: Too much trauma for two people
Chapter 2: Space
In the confines of his hospital office, Tobias felt like he could almost breathe. Nearly thirty-six hours had passed since- since the attack. His wife was still unconscious in the ICU, unlikely to ever wake, and his daughter was missing again. Surely she’s heard of what’s happened by now. Where the blazes is she?
He stared down at the paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t allowed to work directly with patients so soon after . . . He rubbed his eyes and refocused on the patient file. The patient is experiencing pain in the lower left quadrant of the abdomen, likely caused by- Caitlyn wouldn’t just leave so soon after her injury . . . She’s stubborn, but she knows how to take care of herself . . . But she already left home injured after Progress Day. What if something’s happened to her? What if she’s across the river and can’t get back because of the blockade?
Tobias leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his graying beard anxiously. Maybe she’s at home now and the staff have forgotten to tell me. Maybe she’s- she’s-
He stood, grabbed his empty tea cup, and made his way to the servery. Thirty-four of his last thirty-six hours had been spent at the hospital, waiting, worrying. He’d yet to finish reviewing any of the files on his desk and was only slightly more successful at catching a few hours of rest slumped over his desk.
“Dr. Kiramman, another cup?”
He was so lost in thought, Tobias hadn’t noticed he’d reached his destination. “Yes, please, Chris. Shift almost over?”
The young man behind the drink counter nodded. “It’s never been this consistently busy. Looks like every doctor and nurse here is pulling multiple shifts. Are you heading home soon?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, I hope you can get some rest soon.” He slid over the cup.
“Me, too. Good night, Chris.”
Tobias wandered over to the cafeteria windows and stared out into the darkened street. Enforcers patrolled the city in numbers he hadn’t seen in years, not since the rebellion more than fifteen years ago. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel any safer. If Marcus was working for the chem barons, then I doubt he was the only one. What if an enforcer- No, I can’t keep tormenting myself like this. Get a hold of yourself, man!
“Dr. Kiramman!”
The exhausted man turned as hurried footsteps echoed in the cavernous room. “Jonathan? Is Caitlyn-”
A balding man in a three piece suit strode toward the doctor. “Your daughter was sighted on Rockford Street accompanied by Professor Heimerdinger. She’s on her way home.”
Tobias nearly dropped his cup - he hastily set it down and pulled his valet into a firm hug. “Thank the gods! Let’s go.”
They made it out of the building before the valet spoke again. “Have you received any news about the missus?”
The doctor forced himself to breathe through his anxiety. “Nothing new. I’ve been nearly out of my mind with worry. Cassandra badly hurt and Caitlyn missing . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if my beard turned completely white by the end of the week.”
Once home, Jonathan rushed off to the kitchen to prepare a meal for the youngest Kiramman. Tobias paced the foyer, contemplating heading out on his own to meet Caitlyn. Where has she been and why is the former councilor with her? Was she with him this whole time? I should-
“Tobias!”
He stopped his pacing and rushed out the front door toward the guard’s shout. Illuminated by the lights at the gate stood two estate guards, Professor Heimerdinger, and his disheveled daughter. “Caitlyn!”
“Dad, is-” He watched her sway unsteadily on her feet.
He jogged up to the group, far more out of breath than the distance warranted. “Caitlyn, what’s hap- Let’s get you inside. Professor, could you-”
“Of course.” The yordle stepped to the side and held on to Caitlyn’s makeshift crutch as Tobias moved to scoop his daughter up in his arms.
“Dad, I’m fine,” she muttered weakly, though not pushing him away.
The doctor didn’t bother with replying, but did give her a stern frown. Caitlyn’s swollen eyes lowered as she whispered in an almost inaudible “Sorry” and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Miss Kiramman has been through quite the ordeal, I’m afraid,” the professor announced in a sagely voice as he followed them into the house. “I don’t think our trip topside did her injuries any favors.”
Frustration and then worry swirled in Tobias’s chest - of course his headstrong daughter pushed herself to greater injury. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I-” she tried to protest.
“Not now.”
Jonathan met them in the foyer with a tray of food. “Goodness, shall I-”
“I need my bag, water, rags-”
“Whiskey?” Caitlyn meekly asked as she was set on the sofa.
Tobias narrowed his eyes at her, but sighed. “Ice and whiskey.”
“Help yourself, Professor,” the doctor instructed distractedly, waving toward the tray of food, as he began examining his daughter.
Caitlyn was a mess. Her pristine uniform was rumpled and torn, her hair and face unwashed, and much of her visible skin was bruised or scabbed. If he didn’t know better, Tobias would be inclined to assume she’d been in a particularly violent bar fight. “How’s your head, darling?”
She scoffed softly and grimaced, still avoiding his eyes. “I’m concussed.”
“Nausea, confusion-”
“And headache, yes. It’s better than last night, but still there.”
Jonathan and Cassandra’s maid, Mary, arrived with what he’d asked for. “Water and food first, then alcohol,” he stated sternly to Caitlyn. He opened his bag and began laying out what he needed on the coffee table. “Professor, may I ask how you came across my daughter in such a state?”
“It’s a bit of a strange tale to be honest.” Heimerdinger set down his tea cup and clasped his hands in his lap. “I journeyed to the Undercity about two days ago to offer my aid and stumbled across a young man with a broken ankle. To make a long story short, I helped him get home to a small utopia where he leads a group of vigilantes fighting organized crime in the Undercity. Almost a day later, Miss Kiramman was brought to the same utopia in her injured state where she received what medical attention they could offer. We decided to make our way back to Piltover proper shortly after.”
Tobias turned to his daughter, watching her nibble at a sandwich, struggling to decide on his next question. Why was Caitlyn taken to this utopia? Who was this young man? How had she been inj-
“Did Mother survive?” Caitlyn was staring down at her sandwich, not daring to take a breath.
I suppose it’s good she at least knows of the attack. He wrapped a few ice cubes in a rag and held it to the bridge of Caitlyn’s nose, his other hand gently cradling her cheek. “Darling, the council was in session during the attack-”
“Did she die?” Her voice was rough from the tightness in her throat.
“No.” He felt her jaw relax under his hand. “She’s in a coma.” The tightness returned.
The breath his daughter released seemed to rob her of whatever strength Caitlyn had left. In a timid voice, she asked, “Will she wake?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but he and Cassandra had tried their best to shield Caitlyn from the horrors of the world - it wasn’t an easy habit to break. “Eat.”
“I’m so sorry, Doctor. Cassandra’s presence will surely be missed throughout all of Piltover.” Heimerdinger set aside his empty plate. “Do you have news of the other councilors?”
Tobias set the ice aside, picked up a fresh rag, and began wiping Caitlyn’s face. “Jayce and Mel survived with minor injuries. The others perished in the attack.” From the corner of his eye, Tobias saw the yordle bow his head.
The lofty room descended into silence. Tobias wasn’t ready to hear his daughter’s story, not yet. He cataloged her every flinch as he cleaned over every bruise and cut. She kept her eyes closed and left her sandwich only half eaten on its plate.
Heimerdinger slid off his chair and stood. “Thank you for your hospitality during this trying time, Tobias. I need to speak with Councilors Talis and Medarda and provide what aid I can to the city.”
“You’ll likely find Jayce at the hospital.” The doctor tore his eyes from his daughter reluctantly. “His partner, Viktor, was seriously injured in the attack as well. I’m not sure where Mel would be this early in the morning.”
Muttered thanks and farewells were exchanged and Tobias and Caitlyn were left alone. “Your injuries extend beyond what can be seen,” he stated.
She nodded, still avoiding his eyes.
“Let’s get you upstairs then.” Caitlyn didn’t object to being carried this time. “Jonathan, Mary - please bring everything up to Caitlyn’s roo-”
“No!”
He glanced down at his daughter, brows furrowed.
“I can’t- I don’t want to be in there,” she muttered quietly.
Ice formed in the pit of Tobias’ stomach. What has happened to you, darling? “To the master, then.”
The bedroom was exactly how he'd left it yesterday: the bed made, the cold hearth in front of the reading nook, Cassandra's mystery novel on her nightstand. . . “Place everything on the coffee table and start a fire,” Tobias instructed as he set his daughter on the sofa nearest the hearth.
Caitlyn reached for the bottle of whisky with trembling fingers. “When can I see Mother?”
“After you’ve slept at least six hours.” He wrapped his hand over hers and helped steady the bottle as she poured herself a generous glass. She didn’t argue. What I wouldn’t give to see that fire in her eyes instead of this timidness. Tobias let her take a gulp before sitting next to her on the sofa. “Darling, can you tell me what happened to you?”
Caitlyn swirled the remaining alcohol in her tumbler, staring at it intently. “I was abducted from my bathroom by an unstable teenager.” She took a sip. “I was psychologically and physically tortured for maybe an hour or so.” She finished her drink - Tobias refilled it without hesitation. “She bound me to a chair and left me in the ruins of a warehouse for most of yesterday before returning with two other hostages.” She closed her eyes and took a breath and a sip. “A conversation was had between the other hostages and the teenager - I was gagged, but was able to free myself and take the girl’s gun.”
Tobias waited for her to continue, but she was silent, sipping her drink. She needs a moment. “I’m going to clean up the wound on your leg and stitch it back up,” he gently stated. We both need a moment.
“I could have killed her - should have killed her.” The words were whispered, trembling.
Tobias froze, nearly dropping the bottle of antiseptic on the coffee table. He settled back against the couch.
His daughter’s face was anguished. “Instead, I tried to get her to surrender. She was still armed - I should have shot her! I gave her warning fire, but she still- still-”
He took the glass from her shaking hands and set aside before pulling her into a gentle hug. He felt her hands grip the front of his shirt.
Her words were slightly muffled as Caitlyn buried her face in his shoulder. “She was high on shimmer - moved so fast . . . I’m still not sure how I’m alive. I woke up on the floor sometime later. She was gone and one of the hostages was dead.”
Darling, I’m so sorry. I should have known something was wrong when I couldn’t find you.
“I freed the other hostage and- there was a light in the sky. We climbed to get a better view and- and we watched the rocket hit the council chambers.”
Tobias held her tighter.
“She made a hextech weapon and fired it. . . If I had just killed her when I had the chance-”
“Darling, taking someone’s life, whether intentionally or not, is not a simple burden. I remember every patient I’ve lost in surgery, wondering if I’d done something different, maybe they’d have survived.” He rubbed her back, noticing the frayed fabric. “Your humanity isn’t a weakness. You saw a mentally ill young woman and tried to avoid bloodshed. No one can predict the outcome of all of their actions.”
The sound of his daughter’s ragged breathing filled the silence as she tried to compose herself. When she did pull away from Tobias, Caitlyn looked utterly defeated. “She was Vi’s sister.”
“Sorry?”
She reached for her glass again. “The unstable woman who kidnapped me and fired the weapon . . . was Vi’s younger sister. . . That might have been why I couldn’t take the shot.”
He watched her sip her drink, avoiding his eyes. Darling, that isn't a reason for me to think any less of your decision. Tobias began undoing the buckles of her boots. “It sounds like there was never going to be an easy decision.”
Burn it all down - a slow burn, Piltover's finest story. Set after the finale, these ladies have some trauma to work through.
Chapter 1: Too much trauma for two people
The first time Caitlyn had donned her uniform a week before graduation would always live in the back of her mind. Looking into the mirror, she hadn’t seen a privileged daughter of a councilor, someone whose only claim to notoriety was her family’s wealth and status. She saw an enforcer, someone whose purpose was to help the community she served, not just the wealthy elite her family usually interacted with.
Wearing her uniform today, Caitlyn felt something very near shame. Knowing the truth about Marcus and his influence . . . Caitlyn couldn’t fault any of Ekko’s Firelights for shooting her suspicious or angry looks as she and Vi walked down the ramp around the tree.
“Good to see you two on your feet,” Ekko shouted up at the pair from the ground.
It was slow going making the trip. With the stitches in her thigh torn and her leg hastily bandaged, Caitlyn certainly wasn’t in any shape to move faster than a geriatric shuffle. Vi was at her side, a hand at the small of the enforcer’s back, ready to catch her if she stumbled. It was all Caitlyn could do to keep herself from reading too much into the gesture. She’s just being considerate; she doesn’t mean anything by it. I’m just one more responsibility to her, nothing more.
“After a night on that shitty cot, it’s a miracle either of us is able to move at all,” Vi teased once they made it to the grass.
Ekko grinned and leaned back in his patchwork folding chair, his injured leg propped upon a crate next to him. “That’s right, I forgot Stillwater was a five star resort. They had goose down pillows, right?”
The older trencher grinned and shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat. “Don’t get me started on the beds,” Vi chuckled. “The finest concrete money can buy.”
Feeling none of Vi’s confidence and because of having manners drilled into from the moment she could walk, Caitlyn interrupted, “Thank you for your hospitality, truly. I don’t know what would have happened to us otherwise. I owe you a very hefty debt.” She hoped Vi wouldn’t describe the luxury the enforcer lived in. She didn’t need to give Ekko another reason to dislike or distrust her.
Ekko smirked from his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Vi, take note - that is how you show your appreciation to someone who’s saved your ass multiple times.”
Vi’s eye-roll had started before Ekko had finished speaking. “Yeah, yeah. My hero.”
The two women took seats at the battered wooden table Ekko was using to go over scout reports. The sound of hoverboards and giggling children surrounded them as a faint breeze rustled the leaves of the tree. The vigilante cut to the chase. “No enforcers have been sighted beyond the bridge so far. It looks like they’re still trying to secure all access to Piltover. No word yet on the exact extent of damage Topside, but it seems like the council tower was the only structure that’s taken a hit.”
The enforcer’s leg throbbed at the thought of making the trip topside. I should have insisted we head topside last night. “It’s going to be tricky getting across the river then,” Caitlyn sighed.
A look of mild disinterest crossed Vi’s face. “You don’t think they’ll let you cross? You’re in uniform.”
A uniform that seems to mean less everyday. “I’m not exactly keen on being held at gunpoint again by more of my coworkers.” She had dreamt of Marcus last night, not a topic she was interested in delving into at the moment.
“She sees the truth,” Ekko snided. “And all it took was me getting shot.”
I deserved that. Caitlyn looked down at her hands before working up the nerve to meet Ekko’s cool stare. “I am, and will forever be, tremendously sorry for what Marcus did to you and the Firelights . . . and for not believing you earlier.”
Ekko rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Well, I guess you’re still my second favorite Piltie.”
That had Vi’s attention. “Who’s your favorite?”
“Professor Heimerdinger.”
“Why? Do you know him or do you just have a thing for yordles?”
“He’s here, asshole. I just sent for him. He has a boat and should be able to get you Topside.”
Caitlyn felt as if she was still suffering from the worst of her concussion confusion. Heimerdinger is here, of all places?! “You . . . sent for the head councilor?”
Ekko grinned and shrugged. “He said he’s not a councilor anymore and crossed the river to help out in the Undercity. He’s taking a look at our fritzy water purifier. With my leg busted, I can’t do the repairs myself.”
. . . Wha- “That’s- You know what? I’m just going to go with it,” Caitlyn mumbled mostly to herself. After the last four days she’d had, Heimerdinger helping the Firelights seemed absolutely plausible.
Vi leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “How is it that both of us have been running around the Undercity with councilors in the last twenty-four hours?”
“I guess you just bring trouble wherever you go.”
***
Vi was beginning to understand that Pilties really only came in one of two flavors: arrogantly superior or hopelessly naive. Like Caitlyn, the former councilor fell into the latter group. Anyone as chipper and optimistic as him didn’t belong in the Undercity.
Vi and Caitlyn sat on a patch of grass near the base of the tree while Heimerdinger and Ekko spoke. Grass was such a funny thing: it looked so soft, which Vi guessed was sort of true, but she never realized how itchy it was on bare skin or how easily it stained clothes. She’d seen grass before on trips topside, but never had the opportunity to thoroughly inspect it.
“Did you want to come topside with me?”
Vi looked over at the enforcer in confusion. Caitlyn was staring at a blade of grass between her fingers, her injured leg outstretched. The question felt loaded, a strange thing from someone as emotionally transparent, usually, as the enforcer. “I guess I just assumed I’d go with you and make sure you got home safely.”
The other woman nodded. A tense silence lingered for nearly a minute before Caitlyn spoke again, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to come with me - you’re injured too, you know.”
“I-” Vi took a moment. Does she not want me to go with her? “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before, Cupcake . . . but if you want to make the trip without me . . . I’m just worried. Shit’s hit the fan and you’re in the undercity in an enforcer’s uniform.”
Caitlyn began shredding the blade of grass. “I can’t, in good conscience, let you come with me if you intend to leave the moment I make it home. It took us hours going one way last time-”
“I can handle it.”
“You don’t like being topside. I can’t ask you to-”
“I’m offering.”
Vi!” Cait snapped. Her swollen eyes narrowed as her body tensed. The anger in her eyes almost immediately faded. “You can’t take care of anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.”
Anger was simmering under the brawler’s surface as she turned away. “I’ve never had the luxury. No one here has.”
“Bullshit.”
The fuck- Vi whipped her head back around fast enough to crack her neck. “What?”
The enforcer didn’t wither under the trencher’s glare. “Every moment of your life doesn’t have to be a fight for survival!” Caitlyn’s posture went lax with a tired sigh. “Even Ekko knows when to take a step back. Whatever responsibility you feel for my safety, I think I feel something like it for you - I won’t let you hurt yourself for my sake.”
That’s not your decision to make. Vi watched the enforcer push herself painfully to her feet, pause a moment as if reconsidering her actions, before squaring her shoulders and walking toward Ekko and Heimerdinger. Words the brawler wanted to throw at Caitlyn soured in Vi’s mouth as she remained silent. She doesn’t understand - she’s not getting what things are like, especially now that everything’s gone further to shit.
Vi huffed and stood, cringing as her ribs protested. She doesn’t want me with her, not that I can blame her.
***
These are the two most dramatic women I’ve ever met . . . Well, I guess Jinx still has them trumped. Ekko watched Caitlyn and Vi exchange excruciatingly stiff goodbyes as the group heading out assembled at the door. Definitely no hugging this time.
Vi must be really fucking out of practice. No other reason for her to be this oblivious. The Piltie, sure. No one ever says what they mean up there.
Ekko limped up to them as the women began to separate. “Stay safe, Piltie. I don’t want to have wasted those bandages for nothing.”
A small, bashful smile lit Caitlyn’s face. “I was serious about owing you a debt. That’s something we topsiders take very seriously.”
“No good deed goes unpunished, huh?”
“I’m afraid not.” Caitlyn adjusted the crutch the professor made for her. “Hopefully we’ll again under better circumstances.”
He nodded and watched the group file out the door. “You’re not going with her,” Ekko stated simply to Vi.
Her response was clipped. “She didn’t want me to come.”
“Yeah, that’s not the vibe I got.”
“That’s what she said to me.” Vi stalked off.
Those two are going to be a problem. Ekko shook his head and took a seat back at his table. Maybe some time apart will help. I’m sure as hell not putting up with Vi sulking until they fix whatever is going on between them.
***
Caitlyn spent many hours of her childhood listening to her mother drone on and on about the responsibilities Caitlyn would have to take on once she was the matriarch of house Kiraman. The importance of appearances, connections, and influence - how she’d need to know how to converse with the most important people in Piltover. Caitlyn just didn't expect to be faced with the role so soon.
“You did all of that investigating without the sheriff’s help or encouragement?” Heimerdinger asked. Once the group going topside made it to the river bank, Ekko’s escort turned back. Caitlyn and Heimerdinger crossed in the professor’s skiff, the enforcer continuing her story along the way. His many exclamations of wonder made her wonder if he was truly impressed or simply had low expectations for humans in general.
The enforcer hugged her uninjured knee to her chest. “I thought he was like the other enforcers, skeptical of whether a councilor’s daughter was really up for real policing. I thought if I could find enough evidence and form a solid enough lead, I’d finally be taken seriously.” She looked out into the fog covering the water around them and the boat. “I never imagined the reason he ignored my evidence was because he was complicit in the crimes I was investigating.”
“Betrayal is a painfully personal thing,” the yordle muttered sadly.
Yeah, it is, she thought, not thinking about Marcus. She sighed and scratched at the bandage around her thigh. “I understand why he did it. He was backed against a wall and was scared for his daughter’s safety. . . But he had me at gunpoint for so long . . . and he couldn’t do it. In the end, there was still enough good left in him- he tried so hard to pull the trigger, but didn’t.”
The gentle lapping of the water and hum of the boat’s engine filled the silence. Marcus tried to be a good man drowning in corruption. What did that say about the rest of the city’s enforcers? Caitlyn was so tired. Every part of her body still ached and recounting the trauma of the last few days wasn’t helping. She was only half way home.
The professor cleared his throat, “It appears there is much work to be done once we learn the fate of the council. I’ve spent far too much time in our gilded city to notice the harsh realities faced by those of the Undercity. We’ll need people with first hand knowledge of the situation - I know it’s a lot to ask after everything you’ve been through, but I’m certain your insights will be invaluable.”
The motor of the boat filled the silence. Can I really handle more of this? I’ve almost certainly lost my mother, can I really keep this up? Can I really put Dad through more worry? Caitlyn was quiet for a moment. “I’ll . . . I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
***
Thanks for reading! Gotta kill a few plot bunnies before letting these two get together.
It’s never really cold in the Fissures. At its worst, it was like wearing wet clothes in a drafty room. Enough to make you shiver, but not enough to be lethal - or at least it wasn’t usually.
“Cupcake, you need a break?”
“I . . . I’m fine.”
The Fissures were a lot like Stillwater in that way - never quite cold enough to be really dangerous, but never warm enough to be comfortable.
“ Whoa , I got you.”
“ Shit.”
There weren’t seasons in the Fissures - snow never fell in the Lanes. Sunlight never made it to the bottom of the trench, never warmed the Undercity’s dark streets.
“Hey, Cait? Caitlyn, I need you to keep your eyes open.”
“. . . Okay.”
The weak, the injured - they never lasted long in the Fissures . . . not without help.
“We’re almost there - I remember this section of tunnel.” Water pipes ran above them emitting a soft gurgle from the air that had gotten into the lines. A small hourglass was etched into the brick wall beside them.
“Mhmm.”
Vi jostled the enforcer in her arms. “Cait, I need you to tell me you’re okay in that posh topsider accent. ” You’re the only thing keeping me sane - please, don’t leave me.
For being so tall, Caitlyn seemed to shrink the more boneless she became in Vi’s arms. A small huff came from the enforcer, “I don’t have an accent . . . you do.”
“Whatever you say, Cupcake.” Vi’s footsteps echoed faintly through the tunnel. The air was stale, but not unpleasant. Come on - that door has to be around here somewhere.
“. . . I’m so cold, Vi.”
The pit in Vi’s stomach deepened. “I know. We’ll get you warmed up soon. Just stay awake for me, okay?” We’re almost there - just hold on a little longer.
They rounded a corner and were met with a dead-end. Finally! Vi shuffled as quickly as she could with her injuries and Caitlyn’s dead-weight to the Firelight’s metal door. Kicking at the slab, she tapped out the pattern Ekko had shown her when they left the day before. The door began to move.
Thank god. For a moment, the trencher’s exhaustion faded. “Cait, we made it! Cait?”
The enforcer’s freezing nose burrowed into Vi’s neck. “. . . G-good.”
The grinding stopped and Ekko’s second-in-command looked them up and down from the entrance. His eyes narrowed as they lingered on Caitlyn and her uniform.
“Is Ekko around? Is he- is he okay?” Vi stammered, making no move to enter. She didn’t bother trying to keep the desperation from her voice. “We saw the explosion on the bridge, but-”
“He’s here.”
Vi was hit with a wave of lightheadedness as the tension in her gut loosened. “Can we- can I talk to him? Get her warmed up?”
The hulking man’s silhouette moved aside.
***
It’s difficult to sense the world around you while going through the stages of hypothermia. Shooting trips to the forests outside the city included the basics of how to survive if Caitlyn was ever separated from her parents. Shelter, water, warmth, food - she’d been without any of those for nearly an entire day while wearing a damp uniform in the drafty wreckage of the warehouse.
A conversation was happening around her, but Caitlyn couldn’t seem to make sense of the words. Vi’s voice reminded the enforcer she was still in the trencher’s arms, leaning into her chest. Caitlyn sleepily hoped this wouldn’t be the last time either.
No- Something in the back of her mind tried to muffle the thought as if it was wrong or painful. How could a thought so comforting be bad?
“Wha-” Gone was Vi’s solid warmth. Why was opening her eyes so hard? “Vi?”
Staying conscious was like trying to run through mud. “Yeah, I’m . . . shit , I can’t-” the enforcer tried to blink the heaviness from her half closed eyes. “I-”
Vi’s anxious face came into focus. “It’s okay, Cupcake. Just stay awake.”
The warmth of Vi’s hands bled into Caitlyn’s cheeks, dragging her more firmly into consciousness. “We made it?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.” Some emotion Caitlyn’s sluggish mind couldn’t place flashed in Vi’s eyes. “Is Ekko okay?”
Vi nodded. “He should be here soon. Speak of the devil-” The door to the room opened.
“I see you listen about as well as you fight if your face is any indication. You look like shit, Vi.” His limping footsteps reverberated around the small room. “How’s Caitlyn?”
“It’s Piltie to you.” A wide grin stretched across Caitlyn’s stiff cheeks. Ha, yeah. Wait, where am I? Am I laying on a cot . . . with a blanket? When did that happen? Ekko’s soft chuckle brought her back to the conversation.
“Concussion?”
“Yeah,” Vi muttered heavily, “and she nearly froze on the way here. And then there’s the staples.”
What? “Staples?”
Vi wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Just work on getting warm.”
No, I want to know what’s going on. Sitting up was proving to be a colossal undertaking and certainly not helped by Vi’s hand on her shoulder pressing her back down on the cot.
“Rest.”
A dull burning sensation began crawling across Caitlyn’s skin, steadily growing as blood returned to her extremities. “You carried me here. I’ve rested enough.”
“Arguing is a good sign.”
Vi glared at Ekko before turning to Caitlyn. “Five minutes ago you couldn’t keep your eyes open or understand what I said to you.”
“That was five minutes ago.”
A knock at the door and Ekko let two Firelights in carrying food, water, and medical supplies. “You know, it might be kinder to start before she can really feel anything,” he muttered softly as he pulled up another chair beside Vi’s near the cot.
Irritation was enveloping Caitlyn’s brain in its fiery warmth. “Before I can feel what? ”
A defeated sign seemed to drain what little fight was left in Vi. Leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees, she took the enforcer’s nearest hand in hers. “What’s the last thing you remember before we got here?”
Why won’t she look me in the eye ? “I remember . . .” Grrr! Do your damn job, brain. Vi’s thumbs rubbed comforting circles over the back of the enforcer’s hand. “I remember you carrying me . . . through the tunnels.”
“Did I carry you the whole way?”
Caitlyn was momentarily distracted by the memory of being in Vi’s arms. I haven’t felt that content in ages. “Ye- No, you were helping me walk and my leg-” She reached down to the wound and flinched when she prodded it. “My leg gave out or my head hurt too much or something.”
Vi nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. Hesitation filled her voice, “Good, and before we reached the tunnels, where were we?”
Ekko interrupted and handed Vi a bent tin cup, “Here. The two of you need to eat. Play twenty questions after.”
A grateful smile washed over Vi’s face and this time she didn’t stop Caitlyn as the enforcer moved to sit up.
While her muscles cooperated, Caitlyn’s brain voiced its severe displeasure in the form of near blinding pain. “ Shit.” The world around her faded into static as her head throbbed in agony. The nausea certainly wasn’t doing her any favors - she was vaguely aware of the metal bucket shoved into her hands as bile made its way up her throat.
“-ait. Get it all out.”
Just as quickly as it came, the pain receded to a more manageable level. The enforcer dry heaved once more before taking a slow, shaky breath. “Shit.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Vi muttered sadly as she held Caitlyn’s hair away from her face and gently rubbed her back.
Eating proved to be a clash of opposing desires: Caitlyn hadn’t eaten in nearly a day and desperately needed something in her stomach, but the nausea didn’t let up as quickly as the pain. Caitlyn’s entire body shaking from the effort to remain upright wasn’t helping either. I can’t even feed myself.
“Don’t look so grumpy, Cupcake.” Vi’s tone didn’t quite reach the levity it was shooting for. “I don’t mind taking care of you.” She held a spoon of watery stew - or thick soup - to the enforcer’s mouth.
“Hmm.” The flavor was hard to pinpoint. It was a meat-based stock with an unidentifiable grain, but it could have been the slop from Jerico’s for all she cared. Even while nauseous, any food would have been heavenly.
Caitlyn was somewhat thankful Ekko had left to scramble his scouts now that the city was on the verge of war. Though it seemed like he didn’t hate her anymore, it was still a bit awkward accepting aid from someone who she knew disliked her - someone she’d almost gotten killed.
“Okay, that’s all of that.” Vi put down Caitlyn’s bowl and spoon before quickly finishing her own in three large gulps. “How are you feeling now?”
With sustenance, came more of her memories. Like I’m having the worst day of my life. Like I could have stopped all of this from happening if I’d sacrificed my morals to protect the people I love . . . like Marcus had. “Lovely,” she settled for instead. Caitlyn remembered the warehouse around half way through her bowl of soup . . . and the torrent of emotions that came with it. “I remember the tea party and watching the council chamber burn.”
Vi sighed and let her head hang as she stared at her hands. “I’m sorry, Caitl-”
“Stop. . . . Just stop.” Caitlyn hated how thin her own voice sounded. She was angry with Vi but not for what Jinx had done. “Your sister did this, not you.”
Fire flashed in Vi’s gray eyes. "I was all she had left. I wasn’t there for her.”
Irritation enveloped Caitlyn’s brain just as another wave of pain did. “She couldn’t handle the weight of her own decisions and put them on you!” Exhaustion was stifling any attempt at tact. “What you did was remind her of who she used to be, someone who knew right from wrong. You’ve both been terribly wronged by the world, Vi, but only one of you pulled that trigger.”
The trencher’s posture was tense as she struggled to find the right words. “It's on me what happened to Powder. Her actions happened because I wasn't able to take care of her!”
“Then blame Marcus,” Caitlyn sighed and slouched further over until her elbows rested on her knees. Her head just wouldn’t stop throbbing. “Or blame Silco or the council or the enforcers that killed your parents. You can even blame me for breaking you out of prison and letting you find your sister. We all contributed to the world you and your sister grew up in.”
A low, frustrated growl rumbled up from Vi’s chest before her face curled into a teary sneer. “You don’t get it. How could you? When all you have are the clothes on your back, things like family mean everything. They’re the only thing standing between you and a knife in the gut or starving. Being alone down here is . . . is a death sentence and those that survive don’t see good and evil, they only see life and death . . . and they’ll do anything to stay alive. That’s what Powder had to do because I wasn’t there, she survived . . . This isn’t Topside. The rules are different down here,” she ended quietly.
Heavy silence filled the small room. No arguments or rebuttals left the enforcer’s lips. I’m not going to get through to her - she wants her guilt, wants to be punished. But maybe Vi is right, I can’t understand. I was naive enough to think I could expose a criminal organization and expect the council to do something about it, to think I could make a difference in the Undercity. Maybe I was naive enough to think we could be anything but oil and water, too.
Ekko returned minutes or hours later - grief did funny things to a person’s perception of time. “Everything okay?”
Caitlyn pushed herself back up right and watched a mask of indifference slip onto Vi’s face. “Fine. Any news?”
“People are panicking and forming mobs,” he said as he began rummaging through the medical supplies. “Some want to storm Topside and others are running. There’s a lot of people in the streets.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see what Topside does," Vi said, rubbing her injured knuckles.
“I wouldn’t expect a swift response,” Caitlyn muttered with a wince. Fuck this headache. “With the council and the sheriff gone, there’s no one to give orders beyond keeping the peace.”
“I guess that’s gonna have to be our silver lining.” Ekko shrugged and started putting the supplies on the cot next to Caitlyn, missing the way her jaw clenched and her body tensed. “So the staples?”
Right, the staples. “I’ll be fine,” Caitlyn stated tightly. “I just want them out.” Maniacal laughter echoed around her skull, forcing a shudder down her spine.
“Okay, I think the best way to do this is having you sit in the chair backwards. Vi, could you give her a hand?”
You don’t have to. I can do it myself, Caitlyn tried to say to Vi with her eyes. I’m not your responsibility.
Vi either didn’t get the message or chose to ignore it. “Come on, Cupcake. Just a couple of steps.”
With all the grace of a newborn foal, Caitlyn, with Vi’s help, limped to the chair and sat.
‘With how much of my art you had in your colossal room, I’m starting to think it’s me you want, not my sister. I suppose I could make something special just for you.’
The antiseptic smell of alcohol brought the enforcer back. Breathe, you’re not back there anymore.
“Ready?” Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘You know, I think it needs a little pizzazz. Maybe something shiny. ’
No. “Yes.” She felt him grip the first staple with a pair of tweezers and slowly pull it from Caitlyn’s skin and uniform before dropping it in a bucket beside him.
Clink!
“How was that?”
Disturbing. “Fine, it hurts less coming out than going in.” Caitlyn took a deep breath, feeling the staples and uniform pull tight across her back. Her fingers tightened on the back of the chair.
‘Vi must have forgotten that you’re an enforcer.’
Clink!
‘There’s no way she’d ever help one, not after what they did to our family.’
Clink!
‘This way, you’ll have to keep your uniform on.’
Clink!
‘She’ll have to remember then.’
Clink!
‘If you keep squirming-’
Clink!
‘-I’ll have to use even more staples-’
Clink!
‘-and do you know how hard it is to get a steady supply of this stuff down here?
Clink!
‘Don’t be a rude guest.’
Clink!
‘Are you not having a good time?’
Clink!
‘Here, I’ll turn that frown upside down.’
Clink!
“Ekko, let’s give her a second to breathe.” Caitlyn was only vaguely aware of Vi stepping in front of her and crouching down so their faces were level. “Cupcake, I need you to take a breath. Can you do that for me?”
The enforcer shook her head slightly. I can’t move or the pain will never stop.
A frown crossed Vi’s face. “Caitlyn, whatever you think you’re feeling or wherever you think you are, you’re safe here. You need to breathe.”
Vi’s warm hands were back on Caitlyn’s face, trying to ground her. Vi shouldn’t be here. She ’ll hurt her. She needs to leave before it’s too late. “ She’ll be back any second. You need to go,” Caitlyn forced through clenched teeth.
“She can’t get you here.” Vi threaded her fingers through Caityn’s hair, gently dragging her nails across the enforcer’s scalp. “We’re with Ekko and the Firelights.”
What? Why- “Ekko?”
“Yeah, he’s taking the staples out of your back, remember?”
Blunt nails reached the base of the enforcer’s skull and a shiver of pleasure forced air deep into Caitlyn’s lungs. Each breath brought her back closer to the present. Fuck, that felt so real. “Shit.”
“You’re safe here, Caitlyn,” Ekko softly added with a pat on her shoulder.
Caitlyn raised her eyes to meet Vi’s, finding sincere concern there. The enforcer closed hers, afraid of the emotions they were giving away. Pull it together. “I told you, it’s Piltie. ”
“Yeah?” Ekko huffed out a chuckle. “Alright, Pilitie. Do you want to take a break?”
I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to think. “No, just . . . Vi?”
The other woman pulled her chair in front of Caitlyn’s and took one of the enforcer’s hands. “I’m gonna be right here, Cupcake.”
In the three days Vi had known Caitlyn, she’d pictured a moment like this a handful of times - helping the enforcer out of her clothes. None of those fantasies had involved Ekko, none of them had Caitlyn in such obvious discomfort, and none of them had Vi wishing the enforcer didn’t have to disrobe.
“Okay, I’m going to do this slowly. Let me know if it feels like I missed a staple,” Ekko muttered softly, still seated behind the enforcer.
Caitlyn’s nod was minute, a reflection of her exhaustion and lingering anxiety. She avoided Vi’s eyes as the enforcer pulled open her uniform coat and Ekko pulled it slowly from her shoulders and back. Vi kept her hands cradling Caitlyn’s cheek and buried in her hair. “Okay, Cupcake?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, meeting Vi’s concerned stare for just a moment. “I think the coat was too thick to get pulled in too deep by the staples.”
The skin around the enforcer’s eyes nearly matched the color of her hair Vi noticed. Hair that was stringy and tangled. Hair that Vi carefully began to card her fingers through. “You’re doing great, Cupcake.”
“Okay, I think we’re good,” Ekko announced. Caitlyn’s uniform coat was pooled around her waist, held in place by her belt. “The next one might be tricky though. Vi, hand me that pitcher of water.”
Caitlyn’s head dropped forward slightly as Vi removed her hands. She’s about to pass out in her chair. “Stay with us, Cupcake.“ Standing reminded Vi of her own injuries - her bruised ribs and stomach, her aching muscles.
Like everything in Zaun, the thin metal pitcher looked like it had been salvaged and repaired. She handed it over and stood behind Ekko to get a look at Caitlyn’s back and felt her stomach drop into her feet.
What had once been a pristine, white, sleeveless blouse was now speckled with crimson, sweat and blood adhering the shirt to the enforcer’s back. If Vi squinted, she could just make out the outline of Jinx’s drawing - a rough design of an enforcer’s helmet and gasmask.
“Give her the blanket,” Ekko ordered Vi as he poured water onto a clean rag. “She’s probably going to get cold.” He put a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “I’m going to get your shirt a little wet so it won’t hurt as much when we try to take it off, okay?”
Caitlyn nodded and took the offered blanket from Vi.
***
Four days ago, Caitlyn’s biggest worry had been her parents’ meddling in her professional and personal life. Today, it was whether her mother and Jayce were still alive. . . and the pending war between the Undercity and Piltover. In a way, the pain she was in now was a much needed distraction from the bigger picture of her life. All she had to do right now was sit still and grit her teeth.
It was like removing the jacket before, but twice as awkward. The woman in front of her held the blanket against Caitlyn’s shoulders as the enforcer undid the buttons of her blouse. Ekko was just as slow as last time, but the pain was much sharper. The thin material of her shirt had lodged itself deep into the wounds on her back.
Deep, shaky breaths did little to relax her over stimulated nerves. Caitlyn let her head fall forward onto Vi’s shoulder, letting the tears burning her eyes fall.
She must have dissociated again because the next thing she felt was the sharp sting of alcohol on the back of her shoulder. “ Shit. ”
“You back with us, Piltie?”
Not that I want to be. Caitlyn groaned and pulled herself upright. “I guess so, Bossman.”
The firelight let out a small snort. “ Bossman , I like it. Fits better than Little Man.”
“I don’t know. You’re still shorter than both of us,” Vi pointed out.
“Screw you.”
“I’ll pass.”
‘ Vi.” Caitlyn gave her an exhausted glare. “I’m too tired for this. What’s going on?”
Vi’s apologetic shrug seemed less than sincere. “Your shirt is off and Ekko’s picked most of the leftover fabric out of your wounds. There’s just the ones under your bra and disinfecting left.”
“Oh.” She felt the straps around her shoulders and chest. “Does it need to come off?”
“Just loosened,” Ekko stated. “We just wanted you to be aware for it.”
“Ah, thank you for that. You can undo the clasp - you can reach it better than I can at the moment.”
“Okay.”
Caitlyn felt the tension in the silky material release as Ekko pulled the fabric from her back. An absurd thought crossed her mind and, in her tired state, she voiced it without hesitation. “This is the first time I’ve ever let a man undress me.”
A moment of silence passed as Vi and Ekko froze - Ekko in worried confusion and Vi in shocked surprise. Vi’s laughter barked out before immediately wincing and clutching her ribs. “ Ow, ow, ow. ”
Ekko still seemed uneasy. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
Vi grinned through her pain. “She’s like me, Ekko. Prefers the fairer sex.”
His face relaxed into a sizable grin. “Ooooh, shit. I’m honored to be your first, Piltie,” Ekko chuckled.
I am the city’s biggest idiot. “I never told you I preferred women,” Caitlyn said to Vi in confusion.
“Didn’t have to, Cupcake.”
The enforcer huffed, but didn’t disagree with the other woman’s assessment. Nope, I’m the world’s most obvious idiot. Where the fuck is my filter?
“Okay, okay. Let’s get back to it. Piltie, I’m gonna disinfect and then bandage you up, okay?” Ekko asked.
Caitlyn felt herself tense up unconsciously. Not really. “Let’s get this over with.” She met Vi’s stare before burying her face in Vi’s shoulder. The alcohol had a piecing quality to it, able to strike through the enforcer’s exhausted body. She hissed and gasped as Ekko moved about her back, but Vi stayed constantly solid, the stability Caitlyn needed through a sea of pain.
***
Daylight filtered into the room around the thin door and the curtained windows. The voices of laughing children and the hum of hoverboards could be heard outside. Admittedly, it wasn’t a terrible thing to wake to.
Awake or not, Vi couldn’t move. Her aching ribs protested against the weight of the sleeping enforcer more than half laying on top of her. Caitlyn’s soft snores were enough of a counter-argument to keep the trencher still. The topsider had had a very long and painful night-slash-morning after all.
It’s the least I can do, Vi thought as she ran her fingers through the hair of the woman laying on her chest. I’ve brought nothing, but pain into Cait’s life. It would have been better if she had left me in that cell to rot. At least then, Jinx wouldn’t have gone after her.
Vi stared at the ceiling, trying to blink away the burning in her eyes. All I do is hurt the ones I care about. Maybe I was the jinx all along.
“ Vi?”
She took a shallow breath in an attempt to calm the emotions suffocating her.
“Vi.”
Why did Vi ever think she could change anything? The world and everyone in it had moved on while she was gone. She was the only one still stuck in the past.
“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe, okay?”
Why did Vander have to stop her from giving herself to the enforcers? At least then he would have been there for Powder and Mylo and Clagger would still be alive.
“Vi, I need you to breathe, please .”
It’s all my fault.
“No, it isn’t. You did everything you could. Without you, I’d have died.”
I’m the reason-
“Vi, look at me.”
Bleary, tear-filled eyes took in their surroundings for the first time. Her fog of guilt dissipated enough to realize Caitlyn was awake and staring down at her.
The enforcer brushed the hair from Vi’s face. “I chose to investigate your sister’s crimes. I chose to break you out of prison. I chose to put myself in danger because I was naive enough to think I could handle the risk. You aren’t responsible for my decisions.”
“I shouldn’t have-”
“You had no reason to trust me . . . nor I you. We did the best we could under the circumstances.”
It was hard to think of arguments while staring into Caitlyn’s soft, pleading, blue eyes. Eyes ringed in dark bruises caused by Vi’s sister. “Why don’t you hate me?” she whispered.
“Because you opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed.” Caitlyn admitted without meeting her eyes. “You shattered what I thought was reality. And even though it hurts like hell, I’m still grateful for it.”
Will you still be grateful once you reach Topside and find out what’s happened to your mom and Jayce? Vi let out a defeated sigh. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
A/N: Kuvira is on the run doing her thing, Riako is pressuring Korra to defeat the Empire single-handedly, Asami wants to throttle Varrik, and Mako and Bolin find out kids are being abducted from the refugee camps.
A canon compliant Korrasami story (the show, not the comics)
***
“So this is where she is and this is where she wants a ship to be waiting in seventy-two hours,” Korra stated as she put pins onto the map of the Earth Empire in Tenzin’s study.
“Kuvira’s still giving orders as if she’s in charge, I see,” Riako muttered. “And her plans for after this camp are?”
The avatar sighed with a frown. “She claims not to have one and it doesn’t seem like she wants to collaborate on camp liberations.”
“Hm, perhaps we can predict where the next camp she’ll target is,” Tenzin offered.
“Even if we figure it out, I don’t think she’d appreciate our help,” Korra said hopelessly. How am I supposed to help someone who very clearly doesn’t want any?
“We could use it to re-capture her,” Riako barked with his arms crossed across his chest.
Korra’s fists clenched. “And do what with her? She’ll be deep in enemy territory - it won’t exactly be easy bringing her back to Republic city.”
“None of this will be easy-” Riako tried to say snappishly.
“Of course it won’t be easy!” Korra roared as she snapped upright. “It wasn’t easy stopping her when she invaded - it wasn’t easy stopping her super weapon! What is easy, is telling people what to do and letting them deal with the details!”
“I think it’s time for a break,” Tenzin cut in before Riako could continue the shouting match. The President huffed and slammed the door as he left the room. “Your meeting with Kuvira went poorly,” he stated as he moved to stand next to Korra as she stared hard at the map, avoiding his eyes, “and you were hoping she had a plan we could assist with.”
“She just . . . just decided to attack the first camp she came across without thinking through the consequences!” Korra growled as she ran a hand through her hair. “She knows she needs to weaken the Empire’s supply of troops and materials before she goes to Ba Sing Se, but there’s no plan! How am I supposed to help her or come up with a plan for us if . . .”
Tenzin pointed to the map. “These are the most important camps and cities according to Baatar, correct?”
She frowned, “Yes. We could attack those closest to our border to keep heat off Kuvira, but we’d be risking the Fire Nation’s support. I don’t know how to plan an attack without losing the Fire Nation,” she exclaimed as she fell into a chair gracelessly.
“Then we should make our first target the most important one.”
“We can’t just attack Ba Sing Se next week, Tenzin,” Korra said dryly.
“That wasn’t what I was getting at,” he said patiently. “Attacking the Empire’s largest prison camp would liberate hundreds of people and could be framed as a humanitarian action rather than as an act of war - at least in the eyes of the fire lord.”
Korra scoffed, “I don’t buy Fire Lord Izumi believing that for a minute.”
“Maybe, but it could provide at least some political cover and if the liberation was carried out by you and a small group without ties to the military, she wouldn’t be able to claim Riako went on the offensive.”
Korra was silent for a minute as she thought over Tenzin’s idea. “I think it’s doable, but that means we can’t tell Riako.”
“No, we can’t,” he said with a small smile.
The avatar felt a grin spread across her face. “Good, everytime I have to talk to him, I want to smack that annoyed look off his face,” Korra admitted. “I’m just glad he didn’t-”
There was a knock at the door before Lin poked her head in. “We have a situation in the camps.”
---
“Well, that didn’t go as planned.”
Asami tore off her safety goggles and rounded on Varrik. “I told you we need to pressurize the-”
“That’s why we increased the voltage!” he shouted over the sound of the lab’s fire alarm. The floor was slick with water again as the room’s sprinklers rained down on the small team. “We need more coils on the-”
“Stop! Just stop,” Asami pleaded as she switched the alarm off for the fifth time in the last two hours. “Let’s look at the circuits and see if there’s a problem there before you add anything new to it.”
Varrik and Zhu Li pulled the smoldering tarp off their cargo-truck-sized experiment, their attempt to create a controllable field of plasma capable of absorbing small amounts of incoming spirit energy.
“We’ll need another tarp,” Zhu Li noted, holding up the burned sheet. They learned after the first failure to use drop cloths to funnel the firespression system’s water away from their electronics to the room’s drain.
“I should have just turned the water off to this part of the building,” Asami sighed. “Varrik, I said no adding to the circuit!”
“The problem is the voltage! We’re wasting time-”
“You’re going to get us and everyone else in the building killed!” Asami shouted through clenched teeth. “This is my lab and I get the final say. Inspect. The damn. Circuit.”
Varrik huffed, but got down off his ladder and put away the extra copper wire. Zhu Li mopped up the water nearest them while Asami tried to find where things went wrong yet again.
Working with Varrik again wasn’t quite as frustrating and migraine-inducing as Asami had thought it’d be, but not by much. Like with the hummingbird suits, they spent plenty of time sniping at each other, but this time they at least knew what to expect, when to push each other or not.
“Varrik, where are the diodes?” Asami asked, staring at the first connections in the massive circuit.
“What?” His face was inches from the newest soldered connections.
Teeth clenched, Asami expanded, “The diodes for converting the power from alternating to direct. The very important ones at the beginning of the circuit.”
He nearly slipped in his attempt to quickly get around the set up. “Huh, that’s weird. I know I put them in the last experiment we did. Zhu Li, where’s the thing?”
“Try the wet circuit board in the hallway, dear.”
“See, it’s in the hallway,” Varrik said triumphantly.
Asami pinched the bridge of her nose. I need a drink or Korra or both.
---
“Korra!” Bolin shouted.
She’d barely made it to the ground when he nearly tackled her in a crushing hug. “Long time no see, Bolin.”
“Ha, yeah. Things were so much simpler a few hours ago at breakfast.”
He let her go and she finished folding up her glider. “What do we know, Mako?”
The firebender held out the abduction letter, “The Triple Threats are kidnapping kids and taking them somewhere in the city. That combined with the weapon we found yesterday makes me think something big is about to happen.”
Her frown grew as she continued to read. “They sound like they’re doing the neighborhood a favor by kidnapping everyone’s kids. ‘In an effort to better secure Republic City’s streets, several of the most able-bodied youth have been recruited to patrol the streets, prevent looting, and help those they find in need.’ They make it sound like they’re the cops!”
Mako sighed and shook his head. “That’s exactly their goal. They’ve been undermining our work in the camps since day one and it’s working. The gangs have been providing people with more supplies and protection than the city could ever hope to. They’re trying to rebrand themselves as heroes instead of crooks.”
“Except that’s not going to work on the families of the kids they took hostage,” Korra huffed.
“A small number of people in the grand scheme of things. These letters were handed out to nearly everyone in the camps from what we can tell.”
Bolin piped up, “Yeah, and a lot of people are excited about it. Everyone is worried about their stuff getting stolen if it hasn’t been destroyed. The RCPD can’t spare anyone for that sort of thing.”
“There’s also a lot of talk about moving back to the city,” Mako added.
“But it’s still destroyed!” Korra almost shouted.
“They haven’t seen what we’ve seen,” Mako explained. He motioned for them to begin walking. “They don’t know how bad things are in the city and communication has been . . . poor at best between the department, the city, and Future Industries.”
Korra felt herself bristling at the slight to her partner’s company, but Mako noticed immediately.
“I’m not saying it’s Asami’s fault. I’m saying somewhere along the line the message isn’t getting to camps. RCPD and Asami are giving the city updates daily, but the camps get updates. . . maybe weekly . . . and they’re vague at best.”
Frustration was building to a near breaking point for Korra, but she did her best not to snap at Mako. “So you’re saying this whole situation with the gangs is largely due to a public relations failure?”
He was silent for a moment before addressing her with a frown, “That’s a bit of an over-simplification, but kind of.”
“I’m going to rip Riako a new one when I get back to the island,” she muttered darkly.
Bolin spoke up, “A new wha- Oh! Yeah, he should probably be told he’s not doing a very good job.”
“You can do whatever you want to Riako later,” Mako said shortly. “Right now we need to figure out where in the city they’ve taken the kids and what they’re going to actually do with them.”
“So they aren’t going to be patrolling the streets and protecting property and . . . and - what was the other thing?” Bolin asked.
“I doubt it,” Korra muttered. “A turf war?” she asked Mako.
He nodded, “That’s my guess, but we need hard evidence if we want Beifong to move cops to the city from the camps. Right now all we have is a bunch of missing kids and a lot of sketchy letters from the gangs.”
“Today keeps getting better and better. So what’s the plan, Detective?” Korra asked.
“We talk to known gang members and try to get some answers.”
Korra stopped in her tracks and waited for Mako to notice. “That’s the plan?”
Mako looked at her in confusion. “Yeah, why?”
“They aren’t going to tell us anything!”
Mako shrugged. “Maybe not on purpose, but it’s a good place to start. We’ve already talked to a dozen families of the kids that were taken. The next step is talking to the gang members.”
Korra shook her head and started walking again. “I guess I’m not cut out to be a cop.”
An incredulous snort escaped Mako that he hurriedly tried to pass off as a cough. “It’s not a job for everyone.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Bolin said. “I don’t know why I thought it’d be more exciting.”
Mako sighed loudly. “You’re both the only backup I have so please try to avoid breaking any laws during our investigation.”
Korra and Bolin smiled at each other. “We’ll try our best,” Korra promised.
“I’ll be the best partner you’ve ever had,” Bolin stated with his chest puffed out.
Mako pinched the bridge of his nose and led them down a narrow alley between lines of tents. “I miss Asami already.”
A/N: A canon Lara Croft story. Lara's beginning to wonder if there's more to her job than her employer let on and Sam runs into a bit of trouble.
***
Ibadan was warm and humid while the dry season transitioned to the wet. My first detour of the morning was a stop at my new favorite tea kiosk in the University’s Arts building. While I have no problem surviving on Lipton tea bags, I won’t pass up a chance to have an Earl Gray that would rival any back home, even that made by Winston.
My second detour was the student commissary a block away on the first floor of the university’s tallest office building. Another reason I enjoyed working in and around civilization: I never had to go very long without Jaffa Cakes. I bought breakfast too, but I had my priorities.
Unfortunately, sleep still wasn’t one of those priorities - though not for a lack of trying. I’d slept terribly again last night and felt just as exhausted as some of the groggy undergraduates shuffling past me, half-asleep to their first classes of the day. Unlike the undergrads, I wasn’t off to a lecture, but to a meeting with the head of the archaeology and ecotourism department.
I genuinely liked Dr. Odi Bolade. He’s kind and patient with me and the students I’d seen him interact with, but something about him was a bit of a mystery . . . mostly the reason he hired me to help with this dig. My specialty was east Asian and south pacific cultures - and Latin American cultures too after Paititi. He asked for me specifically, though he was hardly the only one head hunting me, and I walked into this job almost blind by archaeological standards. Dr. Bolade was more than happy to teach me everything I needed to know, but I freely admit I’d spent several of my sleepless nights researching many of the local tribes and states that make up south western Nigeria to feel less out of my depth.
I also had to admit, my almost complete lack of knowledge on sub-Saharan cultures was a major selling point for the job. Though I won’t ever divulge the locations of Paititi or Kitezh, I was still able to document many other finds, making a bit of a name for myself. I still get job offers weekly as a consultant or guest lecturer, but they usually end up being a veiled excuse to interrogate me about Yamatai. This job didn’t have that vibe. It was straightforward and to the point: help with an excavation and cataloging of finds with the end goal of public display to boost tourism in the area.
I’d developed a bit of a pattern of avoiding anything that made me think of where I’d been on my hunt for answers about my father’s death and Trinity. I don’t take interviews at all - I won’t accept jobs relating to Japanese, Byzantine, Mayan, or Incan cultures. Maybe a few years from now I’ll be able to, but now just feels too soon. The people I met, became attached to, and lost make it too hard to . . . discuss these cultures candidly.
Nok culture was safe. I had no prior knowledge beyond mentions in undergraduate courses and a couple of camping trips with Roth and Sam in various places on the continent. Nothing about this job had the potential to be emotionally draining or to bring up unwanted memories . . . only my subconscious’ increasingly infrequent nightmares. And talking to Sam. . . too much history there to contemplate at seven in the morning.
For the time being, or at least until noon, the windows and doors of the archaeology department were wide open - after noon, the air conditioning would kick on and the building would close up and would feel more like a typical college building. I followed a small group of students in the front doors, but diverted to the stairs instead of the lecture hall. Two floors later I found myself outside Dr. Bolade’s office. I’d almost emailed him to reschedule - I was dead on my feet, but I knew I needed to be professional enough to meet the minimum job requirements.
His office was dark and no one answered my knock so I sat on a bench and finished my breakfast. With the lecture hall on the first floor, the third was empty this early in the morning . . . until I heard the sound of shoes taking the stairs two at a time.
A panting grad student emerged from the top of the stairs wide eyed and out of breath. “Is Dr. Bolade in yet?”
“No,” I said curiously before taking a sip of tea. The grad student was familiar. “You were at the dig in Kaduna. Itoro, right?”
He took a moment to catch his breath, looking pained and distraught. “Yes, you . . . are the British woman, Lauren?”
“Lara. Is something wrong? I thought the dig was supposed to finish next week?” I patted the spot next to me on the bench. His distress was triggering my anxiety and my need to control stressful situations.
He hesitated for a moment before practically collapsing next to me. “Everything was fine until two nights ago,” he said with his head in his hands. “Bandits showed up as we were packing up for the night.” He rubbed his face roughly. “They wanted everything we’d found and took the rest of the team hostage. They sent me to give the university their demands.”
I stared at him vacantly for a moment as I digested his words. The team of college kids working at the site had been kidnapped. My first instinct was to ask where they were being held and rescue them, but I took a breath and tried to think about the stress the young man beside me was under. He’d been sent to deliver the kidnapper’s demands. “Are the artifacts the only things they want?” I asked softly.
Itoro took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked as though he’d driven through the night. “One million naira and whatever else we’ve found at the site and shipped to the university.” He let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “It was like they were watching us and knew when to strike. One minute we were joking about how we should brew our own rum since there weren’t any bars nearby, and the next there were guns in our faces and these bastards acting like we were trespassing on their dig site. I called Dr. Bolade yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything since then.”
Give a person a gun and they suddenly think they’re in charge. Dr. Bolade has known about this for a day and hasn’t mentioned this to me at all . . . why? “Have you gone to the police?”
He shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. “The police around the plateau have a reputation for being easy to pay-off and the police here are stretched too thin to worry about a problem in another state.” He paused and rubbed the stubble on his face tiredly, “People usually have to come up with the money if they ever want to see loved ones again.”
“That’s awful.”
Itoro nodded and closed his eyes. I wasn’t completely ignorant of the social and political situation in Nigeria. The economy was shite - jobs were hard to come by and as a result, gangs and general criminal behavior had become common in several states, including Kaduna. Boko Haram in northwestern and northeastern Nigeria certainly didn’t help the situation. Kidnappings were on the rise as were human trafficking and antiquities smuggling. I just didn’t expect to be exposed to these problems first hand.
Against my better judgement, my anxiety was still pushing me to spring into action. Maybe I could go back to the site and . . . NO. I’m not a bloody mercenary or a detective, I’m a bloody archaeologist, damn it. I never wanted to make a living off of killing people. . . But if I can help find the kidnappers and rescue the other grad students, shouldn’t I?
My internal debate was cut short by the man of the hour, Dr. Bolade, appearing at the top of the steps. “Dr. Croft, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, traffic was a mess this morning. Itoro . . . you made it back safely, good.”
We both stood. The doctor’s face fell as he ushered us both into his office.
“Of course the bastards would pick now to strike. Why did we even hire security?” Bolade asked himself sardonically.
“Is this a problem you’ve faced before?” I asked. I also wanted to know why I wasn’t informed of the situation until now.
He sat heavily in his chair. “Unfortunately, yes. Much of the Jos plateau has been plundered by criminals. Nok artifacts are a much sought after item on the black market.” Dr. Bolade opened and closed drawers until he placed three shot glasses on his desk and a bottle of whisky. He poured a finger for each of us and pushed the glasses toward us. “I’ve contacted the president of the university, but he’s hesitant to pay the ransom. If kidnappers realize the University is willing to work with them, we’ll see them targeting more of our students. There’s no easy solution to this.”
Itoro downed the shot instantly, I stared at mine intently. “What happens if the ransom isn’t paid?” I asked.
Bolade sighed and swallowed his shot. He muttered, “We never see any of these people again. They'll most likely be sold to traffickers.”
The grad student looked as heartbroken as I felt. My tea was long since finished and the banana I’d had for breakfast was sitting like a rock in my belly. I can fix this. I know how to track people and figure out where they’re hiding. If Dr. Bolade doesn’t think the university will pay, I need to do everything I can to find them and save them. I may not like some of the skills I’ve developed, but that shouldn’t stop me from using them. I took the shot glass and studied the brown liquid. I may not be a mercenary, but I can help. The whisky went down smooth; Dr. Bolade had good taste. I took a deep breath and then uttered the words that I’d been saying more and more frequently whenever something terrible happened to the people around me, “I think I can help.”
***
Sleep. Fucking glorious sleep. Six whole consecutive hours of it. I’m awake before Joe knocks on my door the next morning.
“Wazup?” I slur as I open the door to my tiny cabin. I’m awake, that doesn’t mean I’m coherent.
“Tour’s over. Get your bags packed, Sam. We’re heading to the safe house.”
He’s already halfway down the hallway when I give a halfhearted salute and close the door. Life as the videographer for investigative journalists is pretty shitty if I’m being honest. We’re always looking to get as close to the action as possible without getting seen, but inevitably we mess up. So far so good though.
I changed out of my oversize shirt and shorts into real clothes and started securing my laptop and camera. I wanted to do more for the people I filmed last night, but I’m not sure what more was. Was it telling the local authorities what was going on at this pier or was it pretending I’m Lara and going charging in Rambo style? Either way, it's out of my hands. The BBC’s legal department would contact the authorities and any fantasies of being a hero were just that, a fantasy.
In the months since Himiko, I’d made it a point to learn to be self sufficient. I’d learned to repair common engine issues in cars and trucks, I’d learned enough of the local languages to get by, and I’d learned to defend myself from assholes who might want to take advantage of me. I was done being a damsel in distress. I had no plans of ever needing rescuing in the future.
By the time I made it to the deck, our producer was in deep conversation with the captain of the tour boat and Joe was babysitting our gear. I liked Joe. He didn’t do small talk. If it’s not directly related to the job at hand, he kept his mouth shut. That’s the way I've been operating lately. The less people knew about me the better.
“Any shady people around the dock?” I inquired as I sipped my Red Bull.
“Always, but no one is paying us any mind,” he said with a small grin as he surveyed the shore. What little I did know about Joe was his love of sailing and being on the water. He’d pushed hard for this undercover operation.
“Fantastic.” I had no such appreciation for being on a boat, or not anymore anyway. At least the weather had been nice and we were less than a mile from shore.
I joined Joe at the railing and watched the coast slowly approach. Feeling the ocean breeze on my face was doing more to wake me than the Red Bull. In my pursuit to rebuild my life, I hadn’t left myself much down time like this. Just a peaceful morning to center myself before the heat and chaos of the day took over.
“Don’t go getting used to this,” our producer joked as he joined us.
“This has nothing on the un-airconditioned apartment we’ve been staying in,” Joe muttered wistfully.
I unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter.
“Well then you’re not going to like the news I’m about to give you. We’re leaving the city today. Our next lead is in Addis Ababa.”
I supposed we had what we came to the country for - on to the next location. “In the middle of Ethiopia? Please tell me we’re flying.” I muttered as I stifled a yawn.
He let out a bark of laughter. “Not a chance. This tour boat ate a big chunk out of our budget. We’re going road tripping!”
FML. I sighed and stared back out at the shore.
Joe suddenly tensed beside me and muttered quietly, “You see that blue sedan by the fishery?”
I lazily scanned the coast, trying not to look alarmed. “The one with at least four guys packed into it?”
“Yeah, they haven’t moved in over thirty minutes.”
“Maybe they’re waiting for the fishery to open.” I was already Googling the business’s hours.
“There’s been activity there since dawn.”
So much for my peaceful morning. “Well, shit.” I turned to our producer, “Boss-man, you have a plan B for getting off the ship and back to the safe-house, right?”
Our producer mumbled something about going to talk to the captain as he left.
“This is a bit too much excitement this early in the morning,” Joe muttered.
I leaned my back against the railing and faced him, sort of. He was at least a foot taller than me - I faced his bicep. “It’s better if they don’t think we know anything is up. Drop your shoulders a bit and peck me on the cheek. We should look like a couple just finishing a romantic evening.”
He let out a long breath as he slowly relaxed before leaning over and pressing his lips to my forehead. “You seem awfully calm.”
I shrugged, trying not to betray the way my heart had sped up at least twenty beats a minute at the thought of being followed by human traffickers. “We don’t know if those guys are waiting for us.”
“But they could be.”
“But they might not be.” I was fully aware of how difficult I was being.
Joe huffed shortly before stepping in front of me and placing his hands on either side of me on the railing. Even hunched over me, he could have easily rested his chin on the top of my head. “I don’t like not knowing,” he said while still watching the car.
“Panicking isn’t going to help,” I said calmly, for his sake and mine. It’s been a long time since I let another person this physically close to me. Part of me wanted to knee him in the groin and the other wanted to bury my face in his chest. “If you can’t control the situation, control how you react to it.”
“Now you sound like a shrink. They’re getting out of the car. At least one of them has a shoulder holster.”
Why do they have to be armed? I raised a hand to his cheek and pulled his eyes to mine. “I’m armed too. Let’s go find the boss and find out what our options are.”
Joe nodded and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we left the railing. “Have you ever shot at a person before?”
A chill ran down my spine. I’ve never hurt anyone, Himiko acting through me . . . that’s a different story. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
We entered the wheel house and spotted the captain and our producer. “What’s the good news?” Joe asked.
Our sweating, balding producer faced us. “Security is going to meet us at the docks. We’re going to make it look like you two are wealthy tourists trying to make it to your hotel.”
“That’s not going to be cheap,” I said with a frown. And this isn’t a touristy area either.
“No, but getting off of this boat alive is worth the money.”
“Well, honey, let’s sell this,” I said, giving Joe a salacious look. Even with his dark skin, I could still make out his blush.
“I’m not very good at acting,” Joe admitted, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.
I did feel a little bad for him as I took his hand. “I am. Just let me do the talking.” I led the way out of the wheel house and moved towards the bow, pretending to be as carefree as any foreign tourist on vacation. I spared a glance at the four men standing next to their sedan, but focused on the dock we were approaching. “Babe, do you think the hotel will still be serving breakfast?” I asked loud enough for the workers on the dock to hear.
I felt Joe embrace me from behind. “Worked up an appetite last night?”
“You should know, you were there.” I felt him chuckle and bury his face in my hair. “I see three police officers approaching the dock,” I whispered to him.
He looked up and spotted them. “Have our stalkers taken notice?”
I leaned back into him and let my gaze wander the coast. “I think so. They look annoyed - talking amongst themselves.”
“Good. Let’s hope they leave without making a scene.”
I’m having a difficult time concentrating with his lean body against my back and his arms around my shoulders. Maybe my self-imposed dry spell hadn’t been as good of an idea as I thought. “If not, the water looks very inviting. I could go for a swim.” Blue-green and crystal clear water, I wasn’t lying about the swim - and I could use the sobering effects of the cool sea.
He huffed into my ear. “I’d prefer not to.
I didn’t even have the hots for my coworker, but my body certainly didn’t have any issues with that. It just wanted another warm body and maybe an hour alone with said body. I’m either going to need to get laid soon or start taking cold showers daily. I waved to the men on the dock, the police and the dock workers to distract myself. “This was so much fun! I’d definitely recommend! Five stars!”
Some of the men shouted greetings and thanks as the boat was pulled securely against the dock. The captain and our producer joined us once the engine was quiet. “Back up is here, good. And I think I see our ride approaching,” the boss muttered nervously.
I looked over my shoulder and gave him a fake pout. “At least pretend not to be anxious. You’ll give us away.”
“And who am I supposed to be?”
Not someone who clearly thinks they’re about to be gunned down the moment we disembark. “My personal assistant, speaking of which, what’s a girl got to do to get a decent cup of coffee?”
“Get us out of here alive and the next one is on me.” He flagged down the driver and moved towards the dock.
I guess the promise of coffee is reason enough to survive the next few hours. “What a buzzkill. Well, let’s not leave anyone waiting,” I said to Joe who was still clinging to me . . . and still partly distracting me from our mission.
He took my hand and we followed our boss. I shook the hands of two of the deck hands while handing them tips from the cash I’d brought for emergencies. I spared a look towards the men by the sedan, but the car and the men were gone. “I think we scared them off. We’ll have to keep an eye out for tails on the way to the safe-house.”
“Good. I’ll leave that to you,” Joe muttered.
The taxi was cramped with three of us in the back seat - at least we had a police escort. Being the smallest, I was in the middle and mostly unable to see out any of the windows. Being seated so close to our producer had a wonderfully sobering effect on my libido. “You guys see anything?”
“Nothing aside from the police,” the boss-man said.
That did little to reassure me. A good tail was hard to spot and our producer wasn’t great at . . . well, noticing things. That’s why we had Joe.
“No sign of the sedan,” Joe said quietly.
Thank god. I shifted slightly in my seat and felt the holster for my Sig Suser on my lower back. Months of practice had left me formidable with it, but uneasy about utilizing it against another person. How was Lara able to adjust so quickly to aiming at and killing people? The thought alone makes me nauseous.
“Okay people, we’re almost there. Let’s not waste any time. Go in, pack up, and get back to the taxi in under ten minutes,” our producer said sternly.
I’d honestly forgotten his name. I always referred to him as boss or boss-man in my head. “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t about to admit that though.
The car stopped and all of us bolted for the apartment complex. That was being generous. It was a three story shack with running water sometimes. We ran up two flights of stairs and barreled through the door. Joe and the boss had shared a room while I got my own. Something about morality or proprietary. I practically jumped over my rock-hard mattress and grabbed at my extra clothes and Jaffa Cakes. There wasn’t much I’d left in my room, just non-essentials. Those fucking Jaffa Cakes . . .
I didn’t even like Jaffa Cakes that much. They were okay, but I’d take an Oreo over them any day, but, damn it, they reminded me of Lara so I bought them . . . whenever I saw them in a store.
“Ready to go?” I asked as I stepped out of my room.
Joe and the boss nodded and we took the stairs faster than advisable. It didn’t matter, our taxi was gone.
“God damn it!” boss-man shouted.
I scanned the area and spotted the sedan a block away. “We’ve been made. Get back inside.”
The men didn’t hesitate in following me back into the building. “What are we supposed to do without a ride?” the boss asked.
“Isn’t that your problem?” I asked as I unholsted my side arm.
He swore softly and dialed a number on his iPhone.
“So about my question earlier . . .” Joe tried to ask.
I am not ready for this. “The answer is no, but I’m not about to die here anymore than you are,” I answered. I thumbed the safety off and chambered a round. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The air around us was tense in the narrow stairwell of the building while the boss spoke urgently to . . . someone. Joe kept watch while I tried to prepare myself for what I might have to do. It’s us or them - we didn’t start this.
The boss finishes his call. “The captain of our tour boat has agreed to pick us up on the coast. We just have to get there.”
We were five blocks from the coast. Our tail was six blocks from the coast. If they didn’t see us leave from the back entrance, we might be able to pull this off.
Stowing my pistol and shouldering my gear, I followed the men out the back door and down a long set of stairs. Our safe-house may have been without many modern luxuries like air conditioning, but it had made up for it with the views. We’d been on the steep, northernmost part of the coast overlooking the water. On clear days we could see Yemen across the Red Sea.
Our tour boat was docked on the southern side of the city - it’d take them maybe ten minutes to reach our side of the city by sea. We needed to book it.
The stairs ended and we jogged along a road. “Do either of you know where you’re going?” I panted. I was in fantastic shape, but under the weight of my camera, laptop, and personal effects, I was carrying an extra fifty-ish pounds.
“I didn’t have time to plan a route,” the boss barked out. He was nearly the shade of a ripe tomato. He wasn’t out of shape, that’s just what his face did when under any sort of physical exertion.
“Fair enough.”
Though Assab was on the coast of the Red Sea, it wasn’t particularly lush with vegetation. As a result, the dusty road made it difficult to take the corners at speed. Joe learned that the hard way.
“Shit!” he muttered as he slipped and fell to one knee.
I slowed to a stop to avoid tripping over him and glanced over my shoulder. In the distance, three men were descending the steps we’d just taken. “They’re following us, guys. We need to pick up the pace.”
“I don’t want you to fall behind-” the boss-man said with an anxious frown. Apparently being shorter than both men and being a woman were handicaps I should have realized.
“Then let me lead and try to keep up!” I sped around Joe and past our producer. I only saw three guys on the stairs. That means the other one must be driving the car.
I led the way down the switchback road perpendicular to the coast out of the residential area to a business district. Early risers gave us confused looks as we jogged past them. My lungs were burning as I slowed enough to take a sharp left at the next corner. “Where exactly on the coast are we meeting our ride?”
“There’s a dock the locals use for fishing,” boss-man shouted.
We’re not locals, so that’s where? “Just tell me if I’m leading us the wrong way then.”
What I wouldn’t give for the streets to be busier. The three of us jogging down the road were drawing more than a few people to us, some actually shouting questions as we passed. Fucking traffickers and their menacingness scaring off our taxi. I didn’t want to go for a jog this morning - I wanted to go for a goddamn swim!
“No! Take a left here!” the boss shouted at me.
I skidded to a stop and took a breath before chasing after the other two. There was no sign of the three men chasing us on foot or the other by BMW. Maybe we’ll pull this off after all.
Joe and boss-man took a right and we were at the coast. The beautiful colors of the Red Sea were lost on us as we pushed ourselves towards the dock - fear was a hell of a stimulant.
Boss-man bordered first. Joe slowed and stopped at the ramp. “Almost there! Go, go, go!”
I shot past him and almost collided with our producer. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me. “Are you alright?” he panted.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” I dropped my bags unceremoniously and bent over trying to catch my breath.
Joe threw his bags on board and helped the crew with the ramp before heaving himself onto the deck. “Any sign of them?”
I shook my head as I gripped the railing and scanned the coast. That was too close. Assuming they were the traffickers, but if they weren’t, they were sketchy as fuck.
We pulled away from the dock and the three of us finally began to relax. “We really made it,” Joe laughed a bit hysterically.
I patted him on the shoulder and began picking up my bags. “I’m gonna go lay down and pretend we never left the boat. Let me know when’s lunch.”
Boss-man gave me a once over anxiously, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I shrugged, “I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to run from scary men with guns. Joe looks like he could use a hug though.”
Joe just laughs uneasily and the boss wraps an arm around his shoulders.
Once I’m in my room with the door locked, I drop my bags and sit on the edge of my bed . . . and proceed to have a panic attack.
Twenty minutes later, when I can breathe again, I pass out thinking about disheveled cultists and a battle-hardened brunette.
***
I'm basing my locations and the conflicts there on real events from the last six-ish years, but it's not gonna be completely realistic (I think Assab at that time was a military base and Yemen was/is in the midst of a war - it's fiction so I'm taking a few liberties). If there's anything bugging you about the story or you just want to say hi, drop me a comment. I might reply someday.
Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day or don't - it's really up to you, I guess.
PS: Sam isn't gonna bang Joe, she's just a bit lonely
A/N: A canon Tomb Raider story. Lara tries to move on with her life after Paititi and reconnect with Sam. Sam tries to rebuild her life after Himiko.
***
‘My Nok friend, you’re almost finished, but you’ll have to wait for the morning,’ I thought, brushing loose dirt from the lower eyelid of the terracotta statue I’d been restoring for the last four hours. With his elongated face and topknot, the football-sized Nok man was nearly two thousand years old. He was a relic of a long dead culture with unknown significance - was this statue part of a religious rite, an omen of good fortune, or simply a pretty knick-knack?
‘Sam would say-’ I stopped myself with a scowl. ‘You just spent the last four hours working to avoid thinking about her. Good to see it paid off.’ I sighed and gave in to my treacherous mind’s musings. ‘Sam would say he looks like an alien - like the ones in that arse-backward program Ancient Aliens she’d play to get a rise out of me at university - assuming the episode’s atrocious production and editing didn’t annoy her more.’
I rolled my eyes at myself and put the sculpture back in its plastic container. Of the five weeks I’ve been in Nigeria, the last three days have been at the University of Ibadan’s archaeology department restoring the many terracotta sculptures I and the university’s team had found at the Jos Plateau. Many of the artifacts predated Christianity . . . and yet they weren’t enough to distract me from thinking about my former (or not-so-former) best friend.
Tools put away and bag in hand, I headed down the stairs and out of the building into the warm, humid evening. I hadn’t intended on contacting Sam after the fall of Trinity - what if the remaining agents around the world wanted revenge for the organization’s collapse? It just sort of happened . . . with some help from the Kawaq Yaku cantina.
The grounds of the university were alive with the sounds of insects and the scent of the freshly trimmed and well watered grass on either side of the concrete path I walked between the major buildings on the block. I thought back to the week after the eclipse, after Jonah and Abby had left for the coast. I had traveled back to Kawaq Yaku to quietly obtain supplies for Paititi and utilize the nearby cell tower to check my email and phone. One of my many messages was from Sam. Short and sweet and to the point. I still had the damn thing memorized.
‘Hey, Lara! I hope you’re doing well. Jonah mentioned the two of you would be heading to a new location soon, but couldn’t tell me where. I hope you find what you’re looking for - or at least some cute boys! Anyway, I guess I’m writing because I hate how things are between us. I miss you and I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but you never gave me a say in the matter. This will be my last message. If it ever becomes safe enough, send me a text and maybe we can try again. Or if the mess with Himiko trying to kill you through me was too much, then I will understand if I never hear from you again. Keep an eye on Jonah and try to stay safe for his sake. Love, Sam’
The University dormitory I was staying at had been built in the nineties and featured primary colors and outdated amenities, but it was more than good enough for me. The off-white tile floors probably could have used a new coat of wax, though. I began to climb the three stores to my room.
I remembered feeling the world begin to spin after reading Sam’s email - I was thankful to be sitting at the bar nursing my first beer at the time. I was racked with guilt and shame and just a dash of defiance. The beer was quickly finished and a fresh one was uncapped for me . . . and then a third and fourth. By then I was a moody mess, but I kept over-paying for my drinks as an apology to the bartender. I was on the seventh page of the response I was writing to Sam when I stopped and stared vacantly at the flying bugs circling the outdoor lighting for a time. I then looked back at my email with a scowl and deleted the whole thing before taking Sam’s approach and keeping it short.
‘Sam, I’m sorry. I do want to try again. I’ll let you know when I make it home and have a reliable phone signal. Until then, know that Jonah and I are okay and I think the danger has finally passed. Lara’
I dropped my bag on the small desk and kicked off my shoes by the door. I was dead tired, but hadn’t been able to sleep well in a week.
After returning to the UK, Sam and I began exchanging messages, neither working up the courage to call the other. I learned that Sam’s legal troubles had been solved by a good lawyer and my exposure of the psychiatric hospital’s torture and experiments they put her through. I told Sam a bit of the lengths Jonah and I had gone through to stop Trinity. We developed an unspoken schedule of emails, but as of a week ago the schedule had been broken - Sam hadn’t messaged me as usual and still hadn’t seven days later.
‘I’m being a tosser. I knew she was heading out to Eritrea two weeks ago to film for a BBC documentary and that she might be too busy to write. I need to get a grip - was this what it was like for her when I was away?’
Mostly to appease my anxious mind, I sent Sam a short email detailing the work I’d done since we last spoke and wished her safety and health. I was getting worried enough I was even contemplating calling her for the first time in over a year. I missed her voice, I missed her laugh, I missed the way my name rolled off her tongue. . .
‘No, don’t go there. Sam is very likely straight. Don’t go hoping for something that isn’t possible.’
I stripped and crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling dejectedly. ‘But is it really so impossible? I’ve watched the dead rise and held the power of a god in my hands. By comparison, confessing my long repressed feelings and having Sam return them is statistically much more likely. . . Damn Antarctica and its hallucinogenic flora. Life was so much easier when I just thought I really missed my best friend.’
I rolled onto my side and practiced the deep breathing technique the Paititian healer taught me and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.
***
‘Lara is going to kill me,’ I thought as I continued filming the scene before me. I and two other crew members had spent the day staking out a very specific spot on the pier from the luxury tour boat we’d rented. It hadn’t been cheap, but it proved to have been worth it.
“Sam, I’ve got a guy going into the warehouse,” my spotter, Joe, mumbled beside me.
I panned the Canon XH-A1S to the left away from the men I had been filming talking and smoking on the dock next to the cutter. This was the warehouse we’d been most interested in seeing the inside of. Ten days of bribing and inquiring hadn’t gotten us anywhere, so we hired a ship for the night.
A garage door opened and a man sporting what looked to be an M16 stepped out and stood beside the door. A moment later, a line of somber women and children exited the warehouse walking toward the cutter, flanked on either side by more armed men.
“We hit pay dirt, gentleman,” I whispered as I zoomed in as far as I could on the faces of prisoners.
“Those bastards. It’s fantastic to get this on film, but it still kills me that that’s all we can do,” my producer lamented.
‘If Lara were here-’ I mentally shook my head and refocused. The head of the line was being ushered onto the cutter. We already had a positive ID on the ship from the day before and knew who owned it.
‘If Lara were here, she’d jump from the boat, swim to the pier and quietly execute everyone,’ I thought as the last prisoner disappeared below deck. ‘She’d be a one woman army and rescue everyone on board that ship without a second thought - without a moment to consider the risks to herself or the prisoners if the worst happened.’
‘If Lara were here she’d also rip me a new one for lying about the documentary I was filming. Although, I guess this is just an unpleasant side of Eritrea culture. How was I supposed to say I was part of a crew investigating human trafficking out of eastern Africa?’
“The guards are heading inside and closing shop for the night,” Joe stated.
“Good work people. Sam, did you get all that?”
I stopped recording and checked the latest video file. “Yep, I’ll get this edited and encrypted before sending this to the bosses.”
The three of us quietly retired to our tiny cabins and went to work. I made a copy of the file for Joe who would inspect the footage for the best views of the prisoners’ faces to send to our legal department to forward to the local authorities while our producer wrote a script to narrate the segment.
After the whole Himiko thing, no one had wanted to hire a formerly mental disturbed camera operator, no matter my pedigree or experience. I had to take the work no one else wanted - the dangerous, uncomfortable jobs. This was my third job like that, my second for BBC. It was frustrating and embarrassing to no end when someone recognized my face or name from when Himiko terrorized England and formed a murderous cult using my body. I couldn’t correct people and say it wasn’t me, it was the soul of a murderous, centuries old queen who could control minds and the weather. That just wouldn’t be a good way to prove my sanity.
So that’s how I found myself sifting through hours of footage in a twenty-five square foot cabin at three in the morning just off the coast of the port city Assab.
‘Part of me wishes Lara were here. She was always so good at listening to me ramble while I worked. She always knew the right questions to ask to get me to look at a scene at just the right way.’
By six, the editing was finished to my standards and given to my producer to review before we sent it to the BBC. I practically collapsed onto my bunk and groaned tiredly. I hadn’t had a consistent sleep schedule since I’d arrived in Eritrea and didn’t expect to get more than three hours before we’d be on the move again. We found where the smugglers sent people before leaving the country, now we needed to find where they were kept before Assab.
‘If Lara could save me from an island full of cultists and Himiko, I can survive another few days with minimal sleep. As long as there isn’t any supernatural shit, I’ll be fine. People I can do, spirits - fuck that. I’m booking it at the first sign of unexplained phenomenon.’
I was too tired to think about how my phone had been off and the battery removed to avoid being tracked by the people we were looking to film and the fact I hadn’t spoken to Lara in over a week. Instead I dreamed of the days after leaving Yamatai when I cared for Lara while she battled sepsis aboard a freighter bound for Osaka, when I was so scared her fever would never break and I’d lose her forever to that fucking island. Fuck that fucking island and how much it fucked all of us up and fuck these dreams of watching Lara slowly die and not being able to save her.
Summary: Because I hated the ending of the third Mass Effect game so much, I made my own with black jack and hookers. FemShep x Liara with damn near every character is the third game making an appearance.
Chapter 1
***
“How long until communications can reach beyond Sol?”
“It’s unclear,” the asari comm technician said hesitantly; the hum of the ship's electronics seemed to grow in the silence. “Quantum communication seems to be unsalvageable. That just leaves the Sol relay, but our latest reports indicate it sustained damage from the firing of the crucible.”
Sparatus sighed heavily and closed his eyes; this was a hollow victory until he knew the fate of Palaven. “Is there anyone working on it now?”
“No, sir. Those reports only came in minutes ago.”
“What about the team working on the crucible?” Tevos asked. “The brightest minds in the galaxy would have the best chance of fixing it – the sooner the better.” The asari councilor paced around a circular display in the middle of the CIC of the Destiny Ascension looking every bit as impatient as her turian colleague.
“They may be able to, but there is another group we would be foolish to ignore,” Valern muttered quietly, staring at the three dimensional screen, watching the number of surviving ships increase slowly as communication was reestablished ship-by-ship.
“What are you . . .” A look of alarm crossed Sparatus’ face. “No,” the turian said stiffly as he pushed himself away from the display.
“Is it really that terrifying of an idea? It’s only a matter of time before the geth come back online. If we act soon, we may be able to keep our alliance with them intact, maybe even strengthen it.” The salarian folded his arms across his chest and eyed Sparatus intently.
He narrowed his eyes. “Or they may turn on us the moment they realize they have nothing more to gain from our alliance. It’s one thing to cooperate when there is no choice, but what would be their incentive now?”
Valern shook his head condescendingly. “The geth are not as shortsighted as you think.” He brought up the pre-fight fleet numbers. “If even a fraction of their troops survived, it would be in their best interest to repair the relays,” he stated firmly, pointing at the image. “They value knowledge above all else and what better source is there than the relays?”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve come in contact with an AI species. There is too much at risk,” Tevos said quietly from across the room. “If we act quickly-”
“We’ll what? Destroy all of the units in Sol?” Valern shouted over the asari councilor. “How many more do you think are out there? We’d be risking another war - one we are ill prepared for.”
“And you want to send them to work on the relay?! What happens when they acquire the knowledge they seek? What’s to stop them from using it against the rest of the galaxy?” Sparatus marched back to the display and brought up images of the Citadel attack nearly four years earlier. “This is what will happen. They have no use for organics. They made that abundantly clear!”
The salarian councilor shook his head in frustration. “We know how persuasive the Reapers can be and yet even after being attacked by the quarians and being on the verge of annihilating them, they agreed to a truce. These are not simple machines, Sparatus!”
“Why are you so convinced?” Tevos asked suspiciously. She walked slowly around the display toward him. “You were vocally against curing the genophage, why is this different?” She fixed on him with a penetrating stare. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Valern scoffed at the accusation. “I see I’m alone in my conviction. What more can I say to either of you?” With a last impatient glare at his colleagues, the salarian turned and strode from the room. “If not as an act of the Council, then as an act of the salarian people, the geth will be brought back online!” he called back as the door closed behind him.
A tense silence followed Valern and lingered long after he left. “Do we even know if any of the science team is still in Sol?” Sparatus asked quietly while bracing himself on the terminal in front of him.
“No, but we will know soon enough,” she said before sending out the call for help.
***
Spirits, it’s a miracle she survived, the head nurse thought as he wheeled the patient out of surgery. At least it’s a bit of good news . . . Sure could use a bit more, though.
A sea of medics split to allow the turian and human through the bustling ward. Endless lines of beds on either side of the walkway were filled with too many injured, too many that would not last the next twenty-four hours. That’s not- No, I can’t think like that. There’s too much to do to focus on something so trivial. You’re in charge of this ward, damn it! You have lives to save. . .
He squeezed the gurney between two others and began setting up IVs and monitoring equipment. I need to make my rounds soon. We should be getting another shipment of refugees from the Citadel soon- He froze and stared at the patient. She’s not supposed to be waking up yet! “Ma’am, can you hear me?” he asked, staring down at her.
The woman drowsily blinked for a moment before lifting her eyes and focusing on the turian . . . and letting out a sudden, terrified scream. “AHHHH!!!”
Damn it, not again. “Ma’am, it’s okay. You’re aboard the Destiny Ascension.” Another blood-curdling scream. “Ma’am, you’re safe! You were injured-”
“Hey! That’s enough!” Both quickly looked over to the next bed and saw the occupant giving them a stern glare. “I know turians are ugly, but you’re going to make the guy self-conscious if you keep up the screaming.”
The woman stared, gaping at the other patient, long enough for the nurse to inject a sedative into her IV. “There you go, ma’am. Just relax.” They watched tensely as the woman quickly sank bonelessly back into her pillow. Finally. I’m not going to live this down any time soon, he thought as other orderlies snickered as they passed.
“So, who do I need to talk to to get out of here?” the other patient asked after a moment.
“Myself,” he said as he finished setting up the sleeping woman’s monitoring equipment. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”
“I figured you could use another empty bed.”
“What I need is for my patients to recover sufficiently, regardless of how much they think otherwise.” He walked over to the patient and looked at her chart. Human female, numerous serious burns, deep puncture wound to the right side, three fractured ribs – well this just goes on and on. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”
“Fantastic,” she said dryly inspecting the bandages on her hands and arms. “The pain meds wore off a while ago – No! No, I’m not asking for more.”
“If you need them-”
The patient shook her head. “I’m okay. I just,” she paused for a moment and chose her words carefully, “I need to be doing something. I can’t just lay here and – and think. Just give me a once over before you make me stay . . . please.”
He recognized the quiet desperation in her voice and the pleading in her eyes. “Fine.” With a healthy amount of skepticism, the turian gently unwrapped the bandages on her left arm. That can’t be right- He checked the chart again. How the hell? Humans aren’t supposed to heal this quickly. This is more in line with a krogan . . . maybe even faster.
“It’s not pretty, but it’s still better than it was before,” she said quietly, examining the slightly inflamed skin.
“Remarkable is what it is.” He unbandaged the other arm and stared in numb disbelief. “There has to be some sort of mistake in your chart-”
“I think you’ll find my side is sufficiently healed as well.”
The nurse met her piercing stare before pulling back the blanket and lifting her hospital gown. Spirits . . . this is incredible, he thought after removing the gauze. “How is this possible? Even if you spent the last six hours in a vat of medi-gel, you wouldn’t be able to heal this quickly.”
“I’m not exactly a normal human.” The ward around them moved on, unaware of the medical anomaly the head nurse was observing. “So what do you think?” she asked hesitantly.
I think the galaxy needs to study you, but . . . you don’t belong in the ICU. “I can see no justification for keeping you here, but we’re going to need to get you fed and cleaned up before you can go anywhere.” He noted the change in her status in her chart, shaking his head in disbelief as he did. “I’ll send someone over with a meal.”
“Thank you.”
He turned to leave but stopped, hesitating a moment. “Ma’am . . . everything you’ve done – everyone you’ve saved . . . there aren’t words strong enough to convey the gratitude we – I feel toward you. Thank you, Commander.”
The soldier nodded numbly, not meeting his eyes.
But it never feels like enough, he thought sadly. Stay strong, Shepard. I fear we may need you now more than ever.
***
“-he’s going-”
“No, it’s-”
“Where-”
A sharp radiating pain drilled between the exhausted asari’s eyes as distant voices became clear. “It all looks fine, no permanent damage. You are cleared for duty.”
Dr. Chakwas, the med bay. . . the crash. . . Shepard. . .
“Liara? Can you hear me?”
With an enormous effort, she opened her eyes. “Yes,” she rasped out. Her throat was so dry.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not at all well.” She rolled onto her side trying to lessen the pain.
“This should help.”
Something wonderful flowed through her veins, dulling the agony. “Where are we?” she asked tentatively.
“Armstrong nebula, but beyond that no one is sure. They say the planet is habitable though, with a breathable atmosphere and a comfortable gravity.” She helped Liara sit up and handed her a bottle of water. “Finish this and then get some rest.”
She gulped it down gratefully as worry began to sink in. “Do you know what happened to us?”
“Not really,” the doctor admitted. “Whatever that energy field was, it left no physical trace other than several cases of acute epistaxis – nosebleed.” She handed Liara another bottle of water. “Your case was a bit worse, likely due to trying to help the engineers restart the core for over an hour with your biotics.”
Liara sighed tiredly, staring at the bottle, “Not that it did any good. Have we been able to reach anyone back in Sol?”
“I’m afraid not. Specialist Traynor thinks the quantum communication network is beyond repair. We will have to rely on the relays and hope someone is out there to hear us.” The doctor let her cheery façade slip for a moment, long enough to hint at the extent of the worry she was trying to hide. It slid back into place as Chakwas laid a hand on Liara’s shoulder. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you if anything changes.”
But will it ever? she thought as she stared up at the ceiling, feeling the numbing darkness pull her back under.
***
“This has got to be the most confusing hell-hole I’ve ever been to.”
“What’s so confusing about it, Mr. Vega?” Steve Cortez asked as he finished his lukewarm MRE.
“It’s not the layout or anything like that – it’s the people.” Vega pushed himself gingerly off the cot on the floor of a mostly intact office building and pulled the bottle of water from the shuttle pilot’s hands. “Thanks, Estaban. It’s like no one can tell what they’re supposed to be feeling,” he muttered, flexing his injured leg.
Cortez took back his water and scanned the area. Roughly five miles from where the beam had been in central London, a small outpost had been hastily established to tend to the injured. Understaffed and undersupplied, it was not a place of miraculous medical operations, but a last-ditch effort to save as many survivors as possible – including James Vega. “After months of hopelessness, there is plenty to be thankful for . . . and just as much to mourn for.”
“It just feels – shit, I don’t know. Maybe it’s all of that blood I lost on the trek over here, but this just feels wrong. Javik, what’s your read on the situation?”
The prothean did not move from his meditative stance across the room. “Your species celebrates prematurely and mourns before the heaviest of losses are counted.” He paused for a moment before bowing his head slightly, “But even with these flaws, it is your cycle that stopped the Reapers – whether for good or just temporarily. That is more than what can be said of my cycle.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Vega said tiredly. “Do you think – what set off the crucible?”
A sad smile pulled at Cortez’s lips, “Until I hear otherwise, I’m going to believe Shepard did.”
“I’m okay with that,” the lieutenant said as he laid back down. He was out within minutes.
“How is the human krogan?” Javik asked without moving.
Cortez rubbed his face roughly as he tried to shake the melancholy brought on by the thought of Shepard. “The medics think he’ll make it.”
“Good, our efforts dragging him here were not in vain,” the prothean said sternly. “Do not lose your determination – the fight may be over, but your people will need you and Vega.”
“That goes for you too, Javik. You’re one of us now. We aren’t about to forget what you’ve done to help us.”
Javik bowed his head in acknowledgement, but remained silent.
We’re going to need everyone, Cortez thought as he stared around the room at the other cots filled with injured soldiers. I just hope there’s enough of a galaxy left worth rebuilding.
***
“So what you’re saying is we’re screwed.”
“Not entirely,” Tali said hesitantly as Garrus and Williams stared up at the motionless mass effect core in despair. “What we’re saying is that it will take a while, a few weeks at least.”
“Assuming it’s fixable at all,” Williams said skeptically.
“I’m not saying it will be easy, Commander,” Adams said calmly, “but I think we’ll be able to get it up and running again.”
“That’s better than nothing,” Garrus offered.
Williams took a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll inform the crew,” she said before heading to the elevator.
“How is she doing?” Daniels asked as they all stared back at the core.
“She’s managing,” Garrus said quietly. “She still doesn’t know if she can fill the void Shepard left, but she knows she has to.”
“No one can replace Shepard, but that wasn’t ever the plan was it?” Tali asked.
“No, but it’s going to feel that way for a while – at least until we get a rhythm going,” Donnelly said. “Any luck with EDI?”
“Not yet.” Garrus headed toward the elevator. “I’ll let you know if we make contact with anyone. Let us know if there’s anything we can do topside.”
***
“Watch the right flank!” Grunt roared over the gunfire. He and his men were deep in the wards flushing out and dispatching Cerberus troops. “Take out that engineer!”
It was slow, grueling work. Street by street, building by building, the enemy was steadily falling back. They’d even managed to save a few civilians. It wasn’t their primary goal, but it did give him a sense of pride knowing he prevented someone’s death by causing another’s.
“Move up!” They were meeting fewer and fewer troops until recently, not that it bothered him. What worried him was the number of engineers they’d come across in this neighborhood. Something was brewing.
“Keep an eye out for explosives and turrets,” he growled as the last enemy fell. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
The squad moved carefully from the courtyard to the building interior. No resistance, no one at all. What are we missing? Cowards, where are you hiding?
“Let’s get out of here,” he ordered before they’d finished securing the building. “Double-time it!” This smells like a trap.
“What was that?!” one of his men yelled as the building shook violently.
Shooting out a window, Grunt bellowed, “Get out of the building NOW!” His men leaped from the window three stories up. The krogan commander followed and landed hard on the walkway below just as the building collapsed. “Those damn cowards,” he growled. “They’ll have to do better than that!”
***
I can’t wait to get off of this fucking ship. At least the food is decent – I am beyond sick of MREs. Jack checked her omni-tool for the fourth time in five minutes. What the hell is taking so long?
After arriving with an unconscious Shepard, she watched uneasily as her friend was wheeled away to surgery. The next hour was a blur of confusion, exhaustion, and anxiety. At some point she’d managed to sleep for a few hours. Now she was an irritable and short tempered ball of energy, desperate to get back to Earth and her kids.
“Keep that up and people will think you’re unbalanced,” a soft voice said behind her.
“Fuck you,” Jack said with a hint of relief. “I can’t believe they let you out. I mean – you still look like shit.”
“Thank you, Jack. You always know how to cheer me up.” Shepard sat next to the biotic with her protein bar and electrolyte drink. “What’s going on?”
“Who the fuck knows?” She stared at the table in front of her. “No communication outside of the system, Grunt is still securing the Citadel, still no word on my kids or the Normandy.”
“Earth?”
“Bits and pieces. Nothing yet on your boys in London.” She watched Shepard eat mechanically, stoic to the lack of information.
“I have to meet with the council and then after that, hopefully we can catch a shuttle back to London.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“Whenever I feel like it.”
About damn time you started telling those spineless fuckers where they can shove it. She stared at the softly glowing scars on her face and neck. Someone hasn’t been thinking happy thoughts. “So are we going to dick around here for a while to piss them off?”
She shook her head after she finished the last of the meal. “There are a few things I need to say before they start another victory tour. I’m going to need you there to keep me in check.”
A small snort of laughter escaped Jack, “You’re shitting me, right?”
Shepard stood and gave her a tight smile. “Let’s just say I’m a little short on patience at the moment.”
“Well, shit. I might have to film this.” She followed the commander with a sinister grin. “Let’s go make some councilors cry.”
***
“I don’t know what else there is to try,” Traynor said tiredly. “My expertise is on a smaller scale. I don’t know how to fix a comm problem on a galactic scale!”
Williams leaned on the terminal that had been Shepard’s in the CIC. “A galactic scale? What does that mean?”
The comms specialist ran her hands through her hair. “There are a couple of possibilities. First, we are the only survivors and that is why we haven’t reached anyone-”
“Let’s not go with that possibility.”
“Okay. Second, something is actively blocking our communications – natural or otherwise.”
“Reapers blocking communication,” the lieutenant commander said stoically.
“Or third, the mass relays are not functioning properly, due to damage or complete destruction.”
“From the crucible firing.” The CIC was silent as Williams contemplated the scenarios. “And none of these can be fixed while we’re stuck here.”
“No, ma’am.”
What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?! Damn you, Shepard. It should be you here not me. “Let’s focus on the small scale then. What can we do to get the Normandy space worthy again?”
Traynor stared at the nonfunctional galaxy map as she bit her lip. “There are still several systems that haven’t come online that should have by now. There’s the exterior damage and then there’s EDI.”
“What’s the status of EDI?”
“Completely unresponsive.”
“Shit,” Williams muttered. “Do we have any idea how to get her back up?”
Traynor was silent for a moment. “I have a few ideas, but I’m not sure if they’d do any good. When Dr. T’Soni feels up to it, I’d like to get her input.”
“She was still passed out in the med bay last I checked.” She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Do what you can to bring up the other systems – keep me updated.”
***
“How are you holding up?”
Joker looked away from the foliage surrounding the cockpit and saw Garrus approaching. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Crashed the ship, cracked four ribs, and my girlfriend might be dead. How about you?”
“I’m alive, that’s more than I expected to be honest.” He dropped into the seat next to the pilot. “In large part thanks to you.”
The pilot looked away. “Yeah don’t get too gushy yet. We may have to start calling this place home even if we can get the Normandy off the ground.”
“If that’s the case,” Williams said as she approached, “then I think our first priority should be finding something growing out there that can be distilled before we run out of liquor.”
“Good to know we’re on the same page,” Garrus chuckled. “I don’t suppose we know if what’s growing out there is levo- or dextro-amino based.”
“If we distill it enough it shouldn’t matter,” Joker said, staring back out at the jungle. “No protein in pure ethanol.”
Williams shared a concerned look with Garrus before speaking behind the pilot’s chair. “I’ve been talking to Traynor – she has some ideas on how to bring EDI back. Once Liara is up and about she and Traynor can start working on her.”
Joker continued staring out of the window as if he didn’t hear her. “Okay,” he finally said quietly.
***
Finally, Tevos thought as Shepard stepped through the open door. She looks much better, but are her scars glowing? “Shepard, we were beginning to worry. Who is your companion?”
The Spectre stood at parade rest in front of the asari while her comrade remained near the door. “Jack, this is the council. Councilors Tevos and Sparatus, meet Jack – a teacher at Grissom Academy. She’s here to . . . keep an eye on me while I’m recovering.”
A snort of laughter escaped the other human as she folded her arms across her chest. Shepard always did keep strange company.
“May I inquire where the salarian councilor is?” Shepard asked soberly.
“Valern has decided he would be more comfortable aboard a salarian ship,” Sparatus said stiffly. “That is part of why we needed to speak with you.”
Tevos activated the display at the center of the room showing an image of the Sol relay, it’s rings fractured and stationary. “It would seem the relays were damaged when the crucible fired. We have many of the crucible scientists working to repair it, but there’s been discussion about whether other groups should be recruited to help.”
“Why would we not ask everyone to fix it?” Shepard asked with a slight edge to her voice.
“This is the most advanced technology in the galaxy,” the turian said briskly. “In the wrong hands, this knowledge could endanger all of us.”
“So who hasn’t been invited to the party, the salarians?”
“No, the geth.”
Shepard frowned as she mauled over the information. “The geth are still alive?”
“They were never alive to begin with, Shepard. At the moment all units are offline,” Sparatus said, staring at the display. “Valern thinks they can be activated and recruited to help with repairs.”
Shepard fought to keep her face neutral. “Why not ask for their help? From where I’m standing, it looks like we could use all the help we can get. Don’t forget the rachni, they’ve also been proven to be very capable and intelligent.”
How does she not see the risks associated with her ideas? “Are you listening to a word you’re saying, Shepard? With the galaxy weakened as it is, it would take very little to change the balance of power and throw us all into another war.” Tevos turned and began to pace. “Caution is needed now more than ever,” she said as she stopped in front of the Spectre.
Shepard closed her eyes and let out a slow breath – her scars seeming to brighten as she did. “Are you suggesting we sever the alliances that we – no, what am I saying? – that I forged to win this war-”
“There’s a difference between having an alliance and handing out loaded weapons that could be pointed back at us,” Sparatus interrupted.
Despite remaining still, the marine radiated anger, enough to make the armed guards perk up. “If you intend on backstabbing your allies, then yes you will have something to worry about.”
“Commander, your vision of the galaxy is naïve,” Tevos stated impatiently. “You of all people should know what the risks associated with-”
Shepard barked out a laugh, breaking her immobile stance. She shook her head in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Councilor, but I can’t buy into the idea that I’m the naïve one. How long do you think it will take for the galaxy to find out your people have been hiding the best preserved prothean beacon in existence? Do you honestly think you will be able to remain the superior race? If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you will have to worry about the rest of the galaxy, I think your own people will be the ones to tear down your species. How many thousands of years have the asari been lied to, Councilor? Was that a risk worth taking?”
Tevos clenched her jaw as she fought her own anger. “And do you honestly think the galaxy will be better off without our guidance? Will the geth lead the way to the future or will it be the humans?” she asked acidly.
“I’d like to see what the galaxy can do together,” she said evenly. “But we can’t do that if we start severing alliances without just cause.”
Sparatus leaned over the galaxy map. “Shepard, what you’re saying is inspiring, but you can’t protect the galaxy with idealism,” he said standing beside Tevos. “The asari government will have to answer for their crimes, but what the galaxy needs now is stability . . . and someone they can stand behind-”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shepard spat. Behind her, Jack was muttering loudly about spineless politicians. “I’m not about to smile and assure the galaxy everything is fine,” she explained as she also leaned over the map, “while you screw them over when they’re not looking.” Shepard glared at Sparatus. “If that’s what’s expected of me as a Spectre then you’ll have to accept my resignation.”
“This isn’t a matter of right or wrong, Shepard!” he said with fire in his eyes. “This is about saving our galaxy and preventing a complete collapse of the community!”
Shepard took a step back and shook her head again. “A little honesty and accountability could go a long way, Councilor. We are all vulnerable, but we have an opportunity to make all of us stronger than we were before this war!” Shepard turned back to Tevos, “The galaxy will stand behind me regardless of if you want them to or not. The question is whether you’ll be standing with us or on your own.”
The drone of the ventilation system filled the room as Shepard turned and headed to the door. “How many billions died because of the decisions you’ve made?” she asked as she paused at the door. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to-” She turned to face them. “You had four years to prepare, but none of you did a damn thing. But this guilt doesn’t just belong to either of you, though. It’s just as much mine for not doing more, for not – for not-”
“Shepard, let’s go,” Jack said quietly.
“For the sake of the galaxy, I do hope there will be a change in the balance of power.” She followed Jack out of the room without a second glance.
“That went well,” the turian muttered tiredly. “If there’s nothing else, I too would like to be with my people.” He left without waiting for a reply.
The asari councilor remained unmoving long after they left, contemplating Shepard’s words and the fate of her race. Things will never be the same again . . .
***
“They have hundreds of civilians in the buildings ahead,” the krogan scout reported to Grunt.
The commander and his men were camped out in a maintenance tunnel roughly fifteen blocks away from the Cerberus stronghold. “What defenses will we face?”
“Portable barriers and too many turrets to count. A direct approach will be nearly impossible.”
Grunt narrowed his eyes and contemplated his next move. “It looks like we’ll be needing stealth then.” Several of his men shook their heads and growled impatiently. “Complain all you want, but I can promise you we’ll kill more of them this way. These tunnels run right under them. They’ll be dead before they know we’re there. Pack it up and move out!”
The tunnels, unfortunately, were never meant to fit a krogan. Crawling on their bellies single file, the soldiers pushed the lifeless bodies of keepers from their path. The tight space was making his men agitated, something Grunt struggled with just as much. Damn those Cerberus cowards. . .
As they progressed further, voices could be heard above them. “Get those turrets up now! We’ve lost sight of the Krogans and spotted a turian cruiser near the shopping center. Where are those mechs?!”
I’m going to enjoy this. Soon voices multiplied and words became blurred – the sound of dozens of footsteps echoed down the tunnel. We must be getting close. . .
The scout signaled and the squad branched off down the numerous side passages and waited. Time to finish this.
With an angry roar the krogans sprang from the tunnels. Cerberus troops too stunned to move were quickly cut down. “No more hiding!” Grunt followed after those fleeing from the chaos.
Thick clouds of smoke flooded the building he entered, blinding him. I can still hear you, still smell your fear. Staying low, he let out an angry growl and sprinted through the fog into the nearest shooting enemy, crushing him against the wall behind him. “Who’s next?!”
As he cleared the lobby of the building more gunfire was heard outside. Those aren’t my men . . .
Turians, and lots of them, were flooding the walkways, pushing Cerberus forces back faster. Grunt growled in annoyance as he moved to the next floor. Bastards are going to have this fight finished before it gets good!
***
“That is out of the question.”
“But, Dr. Chakwas-”
“Absolutely not.”
Traynor and Liara sighed in defeat under the doctor’s stern gaze. “Can we at least inspect Glyph to see if he can be brought online?” Liara asked impatiently.
“Only if you plan on doing it here in the med bay so I can keep an eye on you,” she said shortly. “I am completely serious about not using your biotics. Twenty-four hours and not a minute less.”
“Okay then,” Traynor said hesitantly, “we can at least brainstorm about what that energy wave was.”
Chakwas shook her head tiredly, “All of the symptoms were very mild and nearly identical: loss of consciousness, headaches, and nosebleeds.”
“All electronics were rendered useless, but chemical and biological systems remained mostly unaffected,” Liara muttered thinking of the glow stick Donnelly lit in engineering before the crash landing.
“It would have to have been something mostly inert to have passed through the entire ship, but leave little damage,” the comms specialist said thoughtfully as she pulled up a chair opposite Chakwas and T’Soni.
“But everything affected by it seems to be salvageable,” Chakwas said as she examined the crew’s medical logs since the crash.
“If it is inert, then there would have to have been a lot of it.” Liara shared a look with Traynor. “You’re thinking about a wave of dark matter, aren’t you? Like a dark matter EMP?”
“Neutrinos to be specific. Dark matter alone can account for ninety-five percent of a system’s mass. Neutrinos are only formed when something expending a lot of energy happens like a supernova or a nuclear reaction-”
“Or a relay firing?”
“It would seem like a logical jump,” Traynor said with some hesitation. “It’s been observed in very low levels after a ship has used a relay.”
“So, if that’s what it was then how did it drain nearly everything of potential energy?” Liara asked, letting her head fall into her hands.
“Liara?”
“I’m fine, it’s just a headache.”
“We’re stepping well past my area of expertise.”
The bay was silent for a moment as the women thought. “I do have one rather unsettling question,” Chakwas said calmly as she put down her notes. “If we can restore function to our omni-tools and maybe even EDI, could the Reapers also be restored – assuming of course that they were affected at all? Are they simply in a state of inactivation?”
The room fell silent.
“That would also be a logical leap,” Traynor said quietly.
***
Jack glared as their shuttle veered away from their intended destination. “Shepard, this doesn’t look like Earth.”
“No, it does not. Apparently we’re having a layover at the dreadnought up ahead.” Shepard felt a chill run down her spine as the small shuttle entered the cavernous hanger. I don’t think we’ll be leaving any time soon.
“That’s one hell of a welcoming party,” Jack muttered, eying the scores of armed soldiers assembling at the landing zone. “This normal procedure or are we just special?”
“We are special,” she sighed. The shuttle door opened with a hiss as Shepard exited. Immediately the soldiers came to attention and held a salute. I am not ready to be back to this.
A lone soldier marched briskly through the ranks of the others and stopped in front of Shepard with a crisp salute. “Welcome aboard, Staff Commander Shepard.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Shepard tried not to think about how much she didn’t want to be there as she returned the salute. “I asked to be taken back down to Earth. I’m a bit confused why I’m here.”
“If you’ll follow me, ma’am, Admiral Ahern will be able to answer all of your questions.”
Shepard came to a sudden stop. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you referring to Admiral Tadius Ahern of Pinnacle Station?”
“Yes, ma’am, I believe that was his previous assignment,” he said stoically as he turned and led them across the hanger.
“You want to fill me in on who this guy is?” Jack asked quietly as they neared the elevator.
“I may have . . . won the admiral’s apartment on Intai’sei in a bet a few years back.”
Jack shook her head a few times before finally saying, “Queen of the fucking girl scouts . . . Have you even set foot in the place?”
“Once,” she admitted as they entered the spacious lift. “I was a bit preoccupied with stopping a rogue spectre and his army of geth from wiping out the galaxy.” Shepard found herself syncing back up with the strict protocols usually practiced on larger ships, a long way from the casual atmosphere of the Normandy. What I wouldn’t give to be back there. . .
“Commander Shepard, it’s been a while,” the gruff admiral said as the group entered the combat information center.
“Yes it has, sir,” she said, saluting. “I see you still haven’t retired.”
“Can’t do that without a retirement home, now can I?” Ahern waited for his men to disembark before continuing. “This your protégé?”
Jack frowned, looking mildly insulted. “Hell, no.”
“She’s a friend,” Shepard said with a grin. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Ahern, but why the hell am I here?”
The older man chuckled and motioned them to follow him. “With Admiral Hackett beyond Sol and Admiral Anderson deceased – a great man, the galaxy is a worse place without him – I am the highest ranking officer. It’s my job to make the big decisions.”
Shepard nodded silently, her throat suddenly unbearably tight.
“I’ve been contacted by the salarian councilor,” he continued. “It seems he wants our help with a project.”
“I’m guessing it has to do with the geth,” Jack said dryly.
“That it does. Not long after the crucible fired and we restarted the systems on the ship, we began sending ships out to retrieve as many alliance fighters as we could before the poor bastards suffocated. Some of our ships also brought back geth fighters. I’m thinking we must have over a hundred of them in the hangar wherever we could find room.”
“Are any of them online?” Shepard asked. They came to a platform overlooking the entire CIC as well as one hell of a view of Earth from the enormous widows ahead of them.
“They weren’t initially,” he said leaning on the railing. “I had some of our techs try to jump start them, but it’s a slow process. We are able to bring up basic processes, though.” He paused, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “The problem is what happens if we can’t bring them back online completely. And now I’ve got the salarians breathing down my neck demanding access to them, but I’m not entirely sure if their interest in them is honorable.”
Shepard stared out the windows at Earth, feeling a wave of grief washing over her. “You want to help them, but don’t trust the salarians.”
“Organic or not, they came to our aid. Hell, I’m thinking of commissioning a memorial for them in London,” he said wearily with a bit of humor.
“And that’s why I always liked you, sir.”
“That’s touching, but I was hoping for a bit more feedback than that.”
She closed her eyes and took a long breath before answering. “What I know is that the turians and asari would rather leave the geth as they are.” Shepard shook her head sadly. “I haven’t spoken with the salarian councilor since shortly after firing the crucible, but I think you have good reason to hesitate.”
“I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance,” Jack muttered. “The prick wouldn’t stop going on about how saving Shepard’s life was a waste of time.”
“What stopped you?” Ahern asked, grinning.
“I was too busy fixing his and everyone else’s fucking omni-tools.”
“Shame. So what is your official recommendation, Commander?”
“For now,” she said after a moment, “allow them hands-off access. Be open to consultations, but have your men continue to take the lead on this. I’ve never known Councilor Valern to offer assistance out of the kindness of his heart.”
“That is as good of a plan as any.” He signaled one of his men to meet them. “Lieutenant Riley will show you to the armory and also get you fitted for a set of armor. There’s no telling what the situation down there is like with most of the comms down. It was good seeing you, Shepard, and meeting your protégé. Stay safe.”
Jack flipped him off before following Shepard.
***
Notes: Thanks for reading! I planned on adding more, but I forgot this existed for a few years and then lost the second half of this chapter. I'll see if I can track it down. :P
