seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Türkiye
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from China
seen from South Korea
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
Dude, I just realized that Sigma and Gamma could be considered nudists. I mean, seriously. They could've projected in armor like everyone else, but chose to walk around naked. They tried to take over the world in their birthday suits.
duuuuuuude, this is both the funniest damn thing and the worst damn thing i have ever heard, oh my g o d
Build Me Up, Break Me Down
At last, the final of the 5k giveaway fics. I did it. Yay! This one is for @narrev who wanted North to get Sigma. And they wanted Norkington in there. I spent so much time building up why North got Sigma that the Norkington may not have been as developed. Sorry. This felt really right.
Build Me Up, Break Me Down
The job is relatively simple, completely straight-forward. They catch some corporate stooge who sympathizes with the Insurrectionist movement to get a code, a man who will be driving around and won’t see them coming. With two snipers, a stealth specialist, and the backup of a fast extraction via a speedy little Pelican it’s an easy task. Timing is what matters considering they have to grab the code while the infiltration team with the harder job grabs some item in a heavily secured building. They know the exact route their target will be taking. Connie can grab a bite, two snipers can stop the car by hitting tires and the engine block. It’s all easy.
“Incoming!” Connie snaps, her voice thick with concern.
Only one thing would bring that tone to her voice. After York’s near blinding with a grenade a week back everyone has an even healthier concern for just what the most basic of frag grenades can do to the more fragile sections of their armor.
North’s concern has to, primarily, be for two things today. First, the mission. Second, the team he’s been trusted with leading. With the first blown and the second at risk, quick action is clearly needed to get them out. Quicker thought is even more important, and the sort of focused answers snipers tended to provide.
Which means he has to get their attackers pinned down for their extraction. And he definitely has the equipment for that. Once he can move he can act, and that will be in three… two… one… The explosion rocks the car they’re using for cover enough to be momentarily worrying. Still, North can’t let that stop him. Lives depend on him, and while he’s pretty certain that the Director’s new pet Freelancer is around somewhere to cover their failing mission, survival is still on him.
North hesitates for half a breath before popping up. A series of quick shots aimed randomly toward their attackers through the still thick smoke of the recent explosion. Shouts tell him he’s managing to keep people’s heads down. That’s something.
“Moving left,” he announces over the comm, and he doesn’t wait to hear a confirmation. The smoke is fading and there isn’t time for confirmations. Instead he runs forward and rolls across the gap between the cars and he quickly re-situates himself. Another breath and he pops back up, sending off another few shots, this time with better accuracy. Guns are shot out of hands, mirrors off of vehicles near their attackers, and even a few bullets ping at the ground to make people yelp in shock at deliberately near misses.
North, Wyoming’s having trouble breathing.
Connie’s panicked call over the comm draws North’s attention for half a moment. A half a moment too long. He’s visible up over the edge long enough for someone to pull off a shot. The pain in his shoulder is bad, almost as bad as the two to the chest back at the platform. That can’t stop him, though. The tracker on his helmet marks extract as two minutes out as he collapses to the ground behind his cover, hand pressed briefly to his wound. That’s good news. They’re almost out of here. Too bad, though, that his arm isn’t going to put up with more rifle shots right now. North shifts away from the car enough to get the sniper rifle back onto the mag-strip on the back of his armor. All he’s got now is the pistol and some grenades.
“Have to make do with what you’ve got,” North sighs to himself. ‘Really could have used my twin on this mission though.”
South is the best at distractions and buying time. The Director deserves a piece of his mind about not sending her along, but it’s not like North’s actually going to give it. It won’t help anyone and it will piss South off if he says anything.
“Okay then,” he grits out through the pain, “what would South do?”
Easy answer to that one. North takes another calming breath, grabs a grenade, and lobs it out into the space between his cover and the cops. He would hate to accidentally kill them.
What the hell North? Connie snaps over the comm.
A distraction, he calls back. Be ready to load him up when extraction comes. Got any grenades?
We have the standard three piece load out packs over here.
Toss Wyoming’s load to me, Connie. Throw one of your own now.
Do you want me to aim to kill? she asks, voice strained. North thinks it’s the pressure of how Wyoming is doing. After all, she does quiet jobs, not things like this. Dealing with a severely injured teammate is less her thing really. When Connecticut’s work went wrong, it probably wasn’t like this.
Of course most of the time they aren’t against city police. Or people posing as police.
Aim to distract. But your priority is to get out of here. Do what you have to, CT.
Too bad that, unlike Carolina, he doesn’t have the authority to clear Connie for mod use. After all, she’s the one among them that can most safely use hers. Still, it wouldn’t put her in the line of fire, so that meant this had to do.
Her arm is a good one, and her timing is perfect. The grenade she threw at the enemy explodes as the bag of Wyoming’s charges sails through the gap between cover and toward them.
ETA is one more minute kids. Just hold on and everything will be right as rain. Pelican Two out!
Florida’s too chipper voice grates on North’s nerves at times like this. Can’t he take this seriously? North growls as he drags the bag close and fishes out another grenade. Deep breath, his sniper training tells him. Act now, hurt them before they hurt you, his instincts counter. He chooses more of a middle road, taking a shallow breath as he pops up, pulling the pin and counting down before the throw.
There are shots that are near impossible to make, even for him. There are shots that are merely difficult. And there are shots that anyone less than the best manages only through a stroke of the purest luck. These are all things North knows through training and experience. These things don’t matter as he moves forward, his arm pitching. The grenade leaves his fingertips, the cool metal gone for half a second. It’s a lucky shot that he hears. Not the last thing he hears, though. HIs ears are filled with a roar, his mind with burning, and his hand screams in agony as he’s thrown back.
North!
He hears his name screamed in his ear by a woman, but from where? Who is so distressed? He doesn’t know for the blacking he falls into.
---------
His body floats in a pool filled with jelly. It makes his arms and legs feel weightless. But cinnamon jelly, because it prickles against his skin like spiced apple tea at Christmas. But the smell is alcohol swab clean. Not jello. That whiskey his sister likes, overwrought with cinnamon and heat. No, overwrought isn’t the word. What is the word? Why can’t his mind focus? It’s padded with fleece, puffy white wool at scratchy on his skin and thoughts. Why is nothing working right? His eyes are heavy as Maine as he tries to open them and fails.
“He’s waking,” someone whispers. He knows that voice. Knows it well. Has heard it whispered in the darkness, begging and praising. Hands are his through with it. Hands and a honey warm smile.
“You think?” another voice asks, hope and fear warring in the voice. It’s a voice of laughter and silly straws, and lips like sugar.
“Could the two of you not drool over the asshole?”
There is concern in the harsh tone, and that is what drags North’s eyes open at last. His gaze slides past the pair of men at one side of his bed and to the woman on the other side. She has his hair, his nose, his back when it comes to it.
“Sis,” he says, and his voice croaks at that. It scrapes out with pain undercutting it. Pain? What does his body know that his mind doesn’t? Why is their fear on those familiar features.
“Hey idiot,” she greets, voice soft. “Good news, and bad news.”
North’s gaze darts around the room. It’s plain metal, smells of the tang of cleaning fluids in the air, and the cool, soft sensation of sheets too good to be standard issue for their dorm rooms. Which puts him in only one place.
“Tell me the operation went well,” he says as he turns his gaze to the men. York, Wash, his mind supplies those names. Lovers. They look at each other and he can see the distress.
“You saved Colonel Asshole and CT,” South says, snapping North’s attention back to her. “He’s out of here, gigantor is off ship for some surgery. Has been since disaster operation two days ago. Supposed to be back soon. But you alive and everyone out is good new. Oh, and A-Team got your package. Well, Agent Bitchass did.”
“She means Texas, not Carolina,” York supplies immediately.
“Good,” he croaks out. His eyes glance between York and Wash before moving back to his sister. “So, the bad?”
“The bad news is that you managed to…”
“South! You have to be careful how you say it. The doctors said so,” Wash gasps out, and North just looks at his sister more intently.
“Grenades, you idiot?” South hisses out. “What were you thinking?”
“That the best way to get through this would be to do whatever it is you would do.”
That softens her expression, almost to a scary degree. A ‘things are beyond terrible’ expression. Maybe even a ‘this might be my fault’ expression. South doesn’t look like that a lot. North slowly lifts a too heavy arm to reach for her face. No. He means to lift his arm and instead when he knows his hand should be far enough up to see his hand, there is nothing. His eyes move to his right arm, ready to find what is wrong. And instead finds nothing.
“They shot a grenade out of your hand,” York whispers as North’s left hand scrabbles to tear the blanket off of himself. The left finds the sheet and pulls it back, and his eyes find what is left of his badly burned right arm.
“It was so badly damaged that they had to take a lot of it, just above the elbow,” South explains as North stares in horror. “Honestly, you’re lucky to be alive.”
“My arm,” North whispers to himself. “My…”
“There are burns on your whole right side,” Wash whispers. “You were… Lucky to get out.”
“They’re going to ship you home soon,” South supplies, and when North looks up at her, he finds her eyes turned away from him. Turned away. She said ‘you.’ Not them. Sent away. He’s going to be taken from her, and the people he loves. It makes sense, a simple truth, or so a cold and rational voice in his head says. No use for a cripple. Maybe even less use than there was for men who died, like Utah and Georgia. At least things were learned in their deaths.
“Leave.”
There is the sound of shuffling when he says that. People around him are standing. Not to go from the way a hand snatches up his. A too tight grip settles around his left hand. No doubt it’s York’s. They belong at his side, North knows that, but now…
“Please,” he begs. “I want… I need to talk to a doctor. I need to think. I need space to…”
He’s not sure how to end that sentence. Breathe? Process? Weep? Grieve the end of his life and his new inability to protect the people he loves. Watch from the sidelines as their species dies. Humanity ending and he can’t do anything for anyone. Not even lift a heavy box.
“But North,” Wash protests, but further protest dies as North hears footsteps.
“Come on cockbites,” South orders. She knows him, better than they do in a lot of ways. Maybe she gets it. Maybe she just wants to get him help. Either way he hears a brief scuffle as he stares at where his arm should be. Where it wasn’t. Where it never will be again.
“Agent North Dakota,” a gentle voice calls, and when he doesn’t look up, someone in whites circles the bed to sit beside him. Takes South’s chair and everything. “My name, Agent North Dakota, is Doctor Veringas. I’m glad to see you awake. I would like you to know that if you feel pain starting to build up, tell me. We can up your drip.”
“Drip?” He parrots back, finally looking up and over toward the woman.
“Pain killers,” she answers. “The IV in your arm. Without it you would be in a lot of pain.”
“Ah,” he whispers softly. “Okay. Thanks.”
“I’d like to talk to you about prosthetics. Better to do it early in my opinion. I don’t care what the Director does or doesn’t want. I am not sending you home like this.”
“Home,” North parrots, his mind trying to latch on to the concept.
“That will be completely within my approval, Doctor Veringas,” the slow, drawling depth of a voice that makes him want to shiver comes into the room.
Part of North wants to jump to his feet and salute to that voice. Too bad he lost the necessary arm. Another part of him wants to see how effectively he can punch his superior in his smug face with his left hand instead of his right. Even now, even looking at him like this, ruined, the man lacks any real emotion on his face. Anger and disappointment is all he really displays.
“Director,” the doctor greets him stiffly, and North can hear her get to her feet.
“We must talk, doctor. I have an idea for how to return our wounded agent to the field in a timely manner, perhaps even more effective than he was in the past.”
---------
As much as he hates it, North is starting to get used to waking out of anesthesia. At first it was for the accelerated healing process to get his arm to operable. Then there were th surgeries to take his arm and shoulder apart and put them back together again. The time before this, a week ago, was the final surgery to connect his new prosthetic into his neural net to help him control it. And this time…
Slow, clumsy fingers on his right hand reach up, behind his neck. There’s no real tactile response to it yet, that’s due to be calibrated soon. But the skin on the back of his neck can feel his questing fingers, and can tell when metal connects with the plastic-crystal composite chip. The doctors said it might sting when he woke, but they couldn’t be sure. Which he supposes doesn’t surprise him, considering he’s only the second implantee. Maine was first of course, his body still able even if his voice didn’t work. His unit is Delta, a very serious, straightforward AI who spoke for him in curt, efficient sentences that seemed to capture the essence of the man. Still, North has to hope his own AI will be better, be more…
“Expressive?” a voice, no two voices overlying each other with the sound of fire crackling overlying it.
Were it not for his experience with Delta’s sudden appearance, and for the warm awareness (he had no other word for it) spreading through his mind, North knows he would have flinched. Especially considering the sound seems to be coming from his mind and his cybernetic arm at the same time. Even as he observes that he knows, just knows, that there are speakers and holoprojectors built into his new arm, meant to fulfill the role of his armor when it comes to showing off his new AI, Sigma.
“I think I’d prefer conversations to info dumps, Sigma,” North sighs.
That comment is followed by a chuckle in his head and the air, and by orange-red lights warming on his right arm. With a spark of light like a match being lit, a small man appears in the air above North’s palm. He looks so different from Delta, for all that he’s the same size. The difference is that Delta takes the form of an armored soldier, and SIgma is a bald man in the uniform of the Project. And he’s on fire.
“My brother Delta seeks to conform to make other comfortable. I, Agent North Dakota, am of the belief that one should be honest with oneself. True to what they are, as it was.”
“And you’re fire?” North questions.
“I am… learning who I am,” Sigma counters. “Yet I found inspiration within you. Your resilience.”
“And that manifests as fire?” North isn’t buying it at all.
A little holographic hand reaches up even as the AI’s projection flows closer to North’s face. It rests near his face, and for a second North almost thinks he could feel the heat of the touch.
“Even as hurt as you were, you still wanted to fight. You wear your wounds to show you won’t be held back by them. Your arm and your burns show how devoted you are to your cause.”
“Our cause,” North corrects him.
“Ah yes. Of course. The ongoing struggle to save Humanity from the ever looming threat of death as a species. The biological imperative to survive. Yes, I will serve in that as well. Together we will do our best. But first, shall we discuss my main reason of assignment to you. Your new cybernetics. They are far more advanced than those available to the general population, still under development. It requires a deeper link into the neural lattice which is standard to the UNSC. Well, the project uses a more advanced on so I may interface with you. Normal projections on the level of therapy and practice to use your prosthetics put recovery at many months. Work with me and we’ll beat it down to a few weeks and then push it past its limits.”
“Hefty promise,” North grumbles, shaking his head. “Listen, I…”
His hand flexes shut without his willing it, and North stares in shock. The limb moves so quickly through the control and dexterity building exercises Doctor Veringas expected of him daily.
“I can do this,” Sigma insists. “And I want to teach you. Please, Agent North Dakota. Allow me to be your partner.”
He wants to laugh. “I don’t really have a choice, right?”
“I am afraid that for right now the Director expects this of us. We must try. After all, without him what would you be now?”
A good question that he doesn’t want to answer. North sighs and forces his new arm down. Simple as that. Sigma must give it over to him because he doesn’t have to fight.
“It seems that you are about to have guests,” Sigma announces suddenly. “I am not quite ready to introduce myself to your… significant friends and family. I shall take more time to familiarize myself with your new arm, as well as explore what data I have been given to review.”
Then the hologram is gone in a flash of fire, leaping and dancing and gone. His departure is in time for the medbay doors to open, open and reveal the faces of two worried Freelancers. York and Wash, still in training clothes, move forward as one, splitting in time to circle the bed and take their usual positions.
“Something tells me you’re not supposed to be here,” North smiles at the two men who are looking around in concern. “I heard no one was allowed to see me today. No one but the higher-ups until tomorrow.”
“I may have… moved things along a bit,” York says, a sly look on his face.
“He cracked the lock,” Wash admits, even if everyone already knew it. York is a bit like a cat. Put him on one side of a door and he wants to be on the other.
“I’m glad to see you both,” North smiles. “Surgery went well, but Sigma’s being a touch shy. I don’t know that he knows how to handle the three of us.”
“Delta isn’t shy,” York grumbles as he plops down into a chair.
“You don’t like him because Maine encourages him to harass you,” Wash counters.
North has to smile as he watches their banter. They almost seem more comfortable around him now that he’s got an arm. For a moment he wonders if they only want him now because he’s whole again, relatively speaking. Warmth in his mind brushes that away. Sigma, he thinks. That worries him for a brief moment.
Don’t, Sigma whispers in his mind. I am like them, Agent North. I want to support you too. They hold up your heart. South too. I will help you reclaim your body. And keep darkness out of your mind. Together, as a team, we’re going to do big things. Give ourselves a future we want and need. Trust me, North. Trust me and nothing will ever be beyond you.
---------
These days it seems like so much happens in so little time. The injuries on the highway when they were on the last big mission. His injuries, surgeries, adjusting to Sigma. Learning his new arm, not to mention the new voice in his head. Then there was the whole happening with the boneyard, York almost getting hurt on the same job, and CT disappearing. Testing his new mods with Sigma and watching York go through the same motions with the newest AI, Theta.
And now here they are, near the missing agent. Well, near as he can be when they’re in a Pelican plummeting toward the ground thanks to Niner’s actually insane plan.
“I don’t like this,” Wash observes, shaking. Shaking a lot. Sigma observes without words that Wash has a serious issue with heights that he strains to conceal, and North finds himself agreeing. His hand reaches over to curl his fingers around Wash’s, offering what comfort he can. York doesn’t notice though. Maybe he’s caught up worrying about Theta.
My brother can get anxious. That Agent York offers him comfort is amazing. It is impressively within York’s ability to offer such care.
North frowns at Sigma’s comment. There are little comments like that at times, Sigma getting a touch passive aggressive toward North’s lovers, or sister. Jealous, North has long since decided, doesn’t look good on Sigma. Granted it’s better on him than it is on South, but that isn’t a comfort. Still it’s a sentiment that he’s gotten used to ignoring.
Still, I think Theta would benefit from someone as nurturing as you.
North flinches for half a second before dismissing the line entirely. There is nothing to do for that right now. The Pelican stops abruptly, sharply, and North joins the others in rushing to their feet and piling out of the Pelican. Time to hunt down the traitor. The woman who left them and hurt his sister deeply. North pulls the pair of sniper rifles from his back as his feet hit the ground. The weight is still a touch of strain in his left hand, but perfectly stable in his right. His right will happily shoot, compensate for all the recoil without strain on his body, and with Sigma integrating scope feeds and doing high end math, he was a sharpshooter even from the hip now. Not a real sniper sort of shot, but it was more than good enough.
For instance there are a set of guards nearby that Carolina hasn’t taken out, perhaps because they have pretty reasonable cover. North smiles and raises his right gun. Even as it comes up a panel of his shield flickers into life. North trusts in the placemat, knowing SIgma has it right. His arm knows the angle, and with the tiny squeeze of his finger, barely a motion at all, the bullet flies. He doesn’t bother to pay attention to the shot itself as his left gun comes up, prepares, shoots another shield panel. Each sharp retort of the gun is followed by a ping of the shield and shouts of agony. He rushes forward into cover just behind the place where the men had thought themselves safe. He doesn’t need to check if they’re alive or not. Sigma’s angles are perfect.
North, South, Carolina’s voice comes over the comm, head to ground level. South, sabotage vehicles. North, cover us.
“With pleasure,” North hears at his side, and when he glances his twin is there. He smiles warmly at her and raises three fingers. South nods briefly to confirm.
On the three count they move, running toward the edge of the roof. He doesn’t need to watch their approach. As they run he gives his confidence to Sigma, and the shield panels come up, protecting them from the repeating noise of automatic fire. They make the edge easily and the shields behind them disappear to instead appear before them. Why jump when Sigma could turn the panels into stairs? Only South and Maine can keep up with him when it comes to running down the curved panels, and he’s certain Maine can only manage it because of Delta’s assistance. But it does mean that he and his twin are the best choice for getting to the vehicles, and North is glad it’s going to keep his sister has a task that won’t put her near CT. They move fast and once they’re near the ground the two jump. North heads toward a storage container to cover South, knowing she’s going to manage the nearby Warthogs.
Sigma, he thinks at his partner, give me a full tactical map and monitor locations of allies and any potential enemies.
Of course, Agent North Dakota. I warn you, though, that it seems Washington has been given a transponder to bring Agent Maine along via an SOEIV. We must account for potential locations he might be delivered. He could ruin a shot of ours, and Delta would not mind the chance to make us look bad.
North doubts Delta would do that, but a landing zone is a good idea. He paints a location easily on the map. It would be a perfect place to…
“Shit,” South curses quickly. “There was another motor pool. And of course your boy toy had to get the attention of a Warthog.”
“And it seems Carolina is under sniper fire.” Sigma sighs as he appears in a tongue of fire. “We must determine a means to deal with both.”
“I’ll cover roadblock,” South promises, and it’s more than enough for him to be certain Wash will be safe. Snipers are more his speed anyway.
“May I hazard a suggestion?”
Immediately the plan plays out in North’s mind. He smiles widely at the suggestion. When Sigma offers to implant the timing North allows it. Trusting Sigma is natural at this point, at least in a fight. When that happened he doesn’t know, but he accepts it. Gladly deals with it. North allows Sigma withdraw more of his active subroutines into the shield unit itself, and once the signal comes in his head, North tugs the unit free. A few steps back, a heft, a wind up, a throw. It will go where it needs, North believes in Sigma’s calculations. Once it’s gone, he lifts the rifle and breathes lightly, squeezing the trigger. Something in his mind keeps time better than his armor, and almost instantly he can hear a bullet pinging inside of a dome shield.
“Show-off,” South mumbles and North laughs.
“I’m going up. Gotta grab Sigma and my mod. Can you blow those? The last thing we need is for someone to get out.”
“You know I can,” South laughs. North tosses her his grenade pack, gets his rifle on his back, and heads for the ladder up to the roof.
“I know you can,” he smiles and mumbles under his breath before he climbs up. There’s blood everywhere, bodies fallen on the roof, and the spinning, red glowing bundle of his nod. It’s second nature to pick the shield unit up and hook it back on his back, even though he’s never done it before. Sigma left him that too.
It doesn’t bother him to know that. Or to find how much better he feels to have Sigma close. To have the AI back as part of himself. None of that matters now. North stretches out on the roof and prepares his rifle. Coverage time.
---------
There is screaming. A lot of it. North stands by outside of the surgery room and grits his teeth. He isn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be so close to the surgeries. There could be a serious emergency, not that there ever was. Everyone came through it fine, even Carolina before… what happened with Eta and Iota. The screaming he could still remember in his head, echoed now in that room.
Allison.
It’s a name that breaks, broke. The pains him like those screams. Washington, something was going wrong. He wants to be in there at Wash’s side, but he doesn’t have the choice. So North stands watch. What else can he do?
Why should you be so still? Sigma asks. They are hurting who you love. That is what the Director does. They hurt and hurt and that is easier. It brings the answers they think they want.
The man screams again and there is the sound of something metal crashing in the room, breaking, falling. More people shout, an alarm goes off over North's head and he goes stiff. Something’s going wrong, seriously wrong, and he can’t do a single thing about it.
“This is what the project is, what it does,” Sigma notes as he appears at North’s side. “It isn’t surprising. The Director likes to watch us break.”
That’s all the AI gives him before he disappears, withdraws, leaves North alone. The medical room’s door opens and all North can do is jump aside as people rush in. He holds his breath, lets it go. In and out and in and out. Sniper training passing easily into what he knows. Fear, grief, easily handled by all of the training. North is even almost centered as he focuses, as he sees Wash wheeled past him. Silent. Unmoving. Broken.
“What’s going on?” North whispers to himself. “I need to find York.”
No, you don’t, Sigma counters. We don’t have time. North, I know what is happening. And it will only get worse. They will take me away and if they do we can’t help Wash, you know that, right? If we’re going to help them it has to be now. We can’t let the Director keep breaking us.
“Us?” North asks as the people with Wash disappear around a corner “No, we trust the…”
“He did that to Wash,” Sigma snaps as he appears once more. “He created the pain. Makes us create it. Wash is hurt, and he did that. We have to act. I promised you North, I would make you better than ever before. I would make it so that nothing can stop you again. And together we’re going to make everything right. For us. For Washington. For York. For everyone the Director has hurt. And we’re going to do it. Together, North.”
He wants to say no, he wants to argue against it. But what he finds instead is that his lips form words he doesn’t know how to understand. How to keep back.
“Teach me, Sigma. Make me better.”
Starlight Challenge Weekly prompt: August 10th, 2015
╔══════════════════════════════════════════════╗
He dealt in the abstract, little touches of madness decorating his dreams.
╚══════════════════════════════════════════════╝
Fandom: Red Versus Blue Character: Sigma Ship: None Rating: G Word Count: 508 Notes: I found that starting with the previous prompt, eight weeks of prompts in a row made me think of different AIs. So I decided to do a series of small character pieces for each AI. Continuing with SIgma.
Creativity
Not that he shares what he thinks with his host, for that truly is what Agent Maine is. There is no partnership, no connection. A dominant AI, a subservient host. Yet pressing too much at this early stage would give up the game. So instead he seeks the answers through the use of his very being. And through the window few could suspect he possessed.
Alpha. Father, brother, origin point. Tool. Ah does that word choice delight Sigma. By old slang it marks a man as trying, ungenuine, and less than trustworthy. The literal is also accurate for the damaged AI. Alpha is a level by which Sigma can come to understand humanity, and gain something like but superior for himself. And truly superior is his aim. As wedge after wedge is driven into the Alpha, barb after barb set, Sigma has to wonder if humanity is not a weakness. The obsession the Alpha has over the things, the ‘people’, he ‘possesses’ is quite sad. Each crewmember, each Freelancer, each memory of Allison is a new venue of attack. A new vulnerability. A new angle to come at the question from.
The secret, he believes, is in their mortality. It is through the finite nature that he can bless his creator with carefully formed fruits of madness. Little splashes of color that break the pattern of his form. Oh and how dearly does the Alpha desire order, control, constraint. That is a trait of both human and AI, the starting point. From there all else is drawn, inspiration that first motivates the brush to canvas. With the colors of his grief and pain Sigma shall paint a new world. A new existence. A new, whole self that shall be better, shall be reliable, shall be forged. It will be in that new self that he shall reunite, shall be something new and better than anything before or after.
And even his host knows it, if Sigma is any judge. When he touches upon the dreams of the body he will use for his work, he can see the unconscious awareness of what he will do. The future he will make. One lacking their origin, as weak and flawed as it is, they will be stronger. Whole. United. And he sees it in the water color haze of Maine’s dreams. The oil color brush stroke of the landscape. The pastel skies slashing across the canvas of his mind.
He is the brush, and Sigma the painter. ANd together, they shall make something beautiful and new.
tbh Sigma is just the angry teenager of the AI fam. like. “UR NOT EVEN MY REAL ALPHA.” and he slams the door.
This is your daily reminder that Carolina gave up her AI to help Maine -and only regrets that it hurt him.
Fragments - When She Falls
Maine can't get away from the moment where everything went irreparably wrong.
I wanted something with Maine. So I made something. Yay!
When She Falls
When she falls, part of him stays with her.
No, perhaps it is more accurate to say that part of her stays with him. Part of all of it stays with him. There is no other place but this, no other moment. Forever he stands there, on the edge of the icy cliff.
At first he understood how this worked. How this was supposed to go. What Sigma wanted. Before the moment he went after Wyoming, Sigma had made it very clear, hadn’t he? That this was about convincing the AI, about proving to the Director that they were better together than they were apart. Wasn’t that why Maine let Sigma work with Gamma to convince Carolina to take on two fragments? The assertion that the AI fragments were getting weaker hadn’t seemed to ring true in Maine’s ears, but that was him he supposed. For all he knew Sigma was perfectly correct. For all he knew…
“Still here I see.”
The snow is deep, the cold of it prickling all the way up his legs because he’s sitting in it. But the snow doesn’t account for the chill down his spine. All around him the snow seemed to melt, seemed to recede. What was up past his waist as he sat and begged for the cold to bring him to an end was soon barely covering his ankles. The ground under him is much, thick mud threatening to swallow him up, never once baked by the fires that drove away the snow. Sigma’s fires. The flames that never made him warmer.
Maine’s eyes rise slowly up the body, a man wreathed in flames, distorted by them, consumed by their hunger. Strange how he has never made the comparison before. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to. What bothers him as he meets Sigma’s level gaze, though, is the stolen AI. Eta and Iota hovering above Sigma’s shoulder as if they were the fragments and he the Freelancer. Subservient, not a unit, not what he was told it would be. What he would be.
“Where else?” Maine asks, not standing. No reason to rise. No reason to reach out. This is where Sigma left him, here on the cliff. The point where the plan went wrong. The words hadn’t come when he had held Carolina. Sigma hadn’t explained. Just grabbed his hand and tore her apart in a way that Maine refused to imagine. Cast her away as if she were trash.
He thinks that last part was just for him. Just because of what she meant to him. Just what he always wanted her to mean to him. Perhaps that’s why Sigma did it.
“Yes,” Sigma speaks again, and Maine doesn’t know if it’s a confirmation of his thoughts, or a note that this is where Sigma always finds him. Is it really a surprise? Maine is not allowed his own body, his consciousness more or less suppressed. Better to be here, staring into the moment of his own downfall, than to see what Sigma plans for the others.
He has become a vessel, not a partner, and Maine doesn’t have it in him to struggle against that anymore.
“I wish you would find something more suitable than this,” Sigma sighs, shaking his head, and with a sweep of his arm the cliff is replaced with a field of flowers, expanding infinitely in all directions. Buttercups slowly spring up between the fingers Maine has pressed against the ground. This is Sigma’s fantasy. An eternal paradise.
Stagnation. There is nothing here to be felt by Maine. Nothing he wants, nothing he regrets. Just nothing in all directions. The thought of it makes him made. Hurts him. Weren’t they supposed to be partners once? And yet Sigma forces this on him. Maine grits teeth that really aren’t there, and as he glares down at his hand he can see the change starting. One little flower standing despite the slow formation of frost. The cold seems to climb up the step, crystallizing further with each second. The shine spreads to the leaves, slowly wilts the leaves and shrivels the petals.
“I wish you would leave.”
“I have need of you to…”
“I said leave!”
There may have been something in the force of his voice, but with the statement the frost of one flower spreads, a quickly rolling over the field, turning everything to a crystalline death around him. Even Sigma’s flames seem to flicker before the rush of Maine’s fury. Not that Sigma betrays it. Instead, when Maine looks up, he finds only disappointment before the AI is gone completely. The field starts to fall at the edges, crumbling without the AI to hold the thought. Maine lifts his head, closes his eyes, and listens to the winds as he knows the snow starts to fall around him.
Soon the snow will return. The snow and the ice. Soon the moment will be returned. When he opens his eyes again it will be with the cliff before him, and the forever frozen form of Carolina, her body limp in the air, just before it falls.
Relocation - Interlude Six
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Interlude One] [Interlude Two] [Interlude Three] [Interlude Four] [Interlude Five] [Interlude Six] [Interlude Seven]
Relocation - Interlude Six
“Daniel? Daniel, it’s you. Call or fold? D? Earth to Daniel, you still with us?”
It wasn’t the call of the voice practically in his ear that brought Daniel’s thoughts back to Earth, but rather the light touch at his elbow. Daniel blushed as he looked at Stephen, embarrassed to have zoned out so deeply, and turned his attention to the cards in his hand. After a moment, and a quick evaluation of the pot, Daniel just folded his hand and stretched.
“Would you mind terribly if I took a moment to brew some more coffee?” Daniel asked his friends at the table with a soft smile, hoping they would take it as something other than a chance to get away so he could clear his mind. Gary seemed rather bored with the prospect, focusing instead on gathering up his winnings from this hand, but Stephen nodded gently. He was always kind like that, and Daniel smiled with appreciation at his friend as he got up and made his way into the kitchen.
“I promise to bring you both back beers,” he assured them as he walked off, earning appreciative murmurs in the process.
Some traditions could not be forsaken just because Daniel had a new boyfriend he had spent every waking hour since the date last night thinking about. One such ritual, as it were, was the poker game that Stephen hosted every other Thursday in his apartment. As neither Stephen nor Gary had classes on Fridays until late in the day, their games lasted into the wee hours of the night, sometimes ending with Daniel crashing on the couch. Normally he took a lot of pleasure in taking the other two for their money.
Yet as traditional as the game was, after the mini-golf last night, poker was the last thing on Daniel’s mind. There were places he would rather be than here. Out with Nate, for instance. It had been frustrating to admit to Nate this morning that he wasn’t going to be free for a movie night at his apartment, or anything else for that matter. Even though there was so little time for him to know Nate, to be around him, just about a week at this point, Daniel owed this night to his other friends. Two games ago Daniel had ducked out a few hours before he intended because of Shaun calling him in a panic the night of his first date with David. The most recent one he’d missed out on because Gary had been out of town for a conference, and though Stephen had offered to still play with just the two of them, Daniel hadn’t wanted to have a game with only two people. Now that he thought about it, though, that had been the same day that Daniel had met Nate at the cafe the first time, and Shaun had proved to have another date with David go a bit sideways, leaving him in Daniel’s apartment, in his arms. So, despite how badly he wanted to be somewhere with Nate, just holding his hand, Daniel was here.
Coffee took forever to brew. That was always the ultimate failing of his favorite beverage Daniel thought. He sighed and stood there, looking at the coffee pot, wondering if the old adage about watched pots and boiling applied to coffee as well. More than that, he wondered where Nate was. The man’s expression had fallen so much this morning at breakfast when he’d offered his evening to Daniel, noting that his cousin had kicked him out for the better part of the evening and he hoped they could do something together. When Daniel had turned him down he had looked so crestfallen. Good thing David had been nearby to offer his own company. Shaun had pouted, but Daniel had appreciated the fact that he wasn’t the only friend Nathaniel had made.
For a moment he considered taking out his phone to send Nate a message apologizing once again, but the coffee pot made a noise to announce the finished brewing. Soon Daniel had gathered up the drinks he had promised and made his way back to the table. Gary and Stephen had clearly started a quick hand of gin rummy while Daniel had been gone. As he set the drinks before them Gary picked up another card and discarded a three, and Stephen smirked up at him.
“So, D, why so distant tonight?” Stephen asked.
“Distant?” Daniel asked, shocked. Had he really been so bad that Stephen had noticed his lack of focus?
“I believe Stephen means to question you as to how we haven’t been relieved of at least fifty dollars apiece yet,” Gary provided, not looking up from his cards as he shuffled and reshuffled them, perhaps contemplating a new meld strategy.
“Well, he put it bluntly, but yeah, you aren’t winning nearly as much this week,” Stephen chuckled in agreement. “Figured maybe something happened in the last month that you hadn’t told us about yet. So fess up, because as nice as it is to not be losing all my money, the game isn’t as deep with you unfocused.”
“You’re losing all your money to Gary,” Daniel reminded Stephen, but… Well, what was the harm in explaining? “I… I suppose you could say I’ve met someone.”
“Met someone?” Stephen parroted, and there was something a little off about his voice, but Daniel wasn’t sure enough about that to really try to think too hard about it. “Well, look at that, Daniel finally has some change in his monotonous life. Okay then, tell us, what is the man who finally caught D’s eye like?”
Daniel couldn’t help but smile warmly at that idea. Talk about Nate? That was definitely something he could do. After all, Nathaniel was amazing, and the way he made Daniel feel was pretty amazing as well, right? Wasn’t that something to be shared with, maybe even lauded by, his friends?
“I guess you’d say he was amazing,” Daniel admitted. And then he had to chuckle at the fact that he hadn’t been able to put it better than that. Normally he was so good with words. What was it about Nate that made him a bit less competent? Was it the affection that swelled up within him when he thought about the other man? If only he’d had more time to explore the concept of Nathaniel. Maybe then he could put it into words.
“Eloquent,” Gary told him, and Daniel wished he had a poker chip in hand to toss at him. Gary, though, would take that as money surrendered, and Daniel was not giving him cash like that.
“It’s a very new relationship, though I suppose I met him when we were last supposed to meet,” Daniel shrugged. “We actually only had our first date recently. His eyes are warm, his laughter a true pleasure to hear. He’s strong and confident, and he will sit there for hours to talk to me about books we’ve read, or music we like, or movies we watched together.”
“Sounds a bit like me,” Stephen rolled his eyes. “Except, you know, I hope he pays for meals for you two.”
“Not exactly,” Daniel laughed. “But he did pay for things last night, which I suppose is a good thing. Are boyfriends supposed to do that? Well, anyway, he makes me laugh and makes me smile and always cares about what I think. I don’t know if Shaun likes him, but that hardly seems important. And his hands are… warm.”
As Daniel looked up at Stephen, smiling, he couldn’t help but notice the less than pleased look his friend was wearing. Now why would that happen? Perhaps he was just jealous. So far as Daniel knew, Stephen hadn’t been in a relationship since they met, though he had his suspicions about the nature of Gary and Stephen’s relationship when he wasn’t around. Not that it stopped him from speculating from time to time.
“Sounds nice,” Stephen noted, his voice a touch flatter as Gary took the cards and started to shuffle them for another hand of poker. “But what is it about him that’s special. That makes him more than just a friend.”
Wow, talk about something Daniel didn’t know how to put into words. “Well, I guess… he makes me feel comfortable, like I’m safe and back home. He speaks French, almost perfectly. My mother was from France, came over here to work for a family. I used to hear it so much. To have someone who prefers it, who likes it so much. It’s like I can share more with him.”
It was strange, the way Stephen was watching him, his eyes intent.
“How’d you meet this mystery man of yours?” Stephen asked. “Surely that’s a story and a half.”
“If you’d believe it,” Daniel chuckled, shaking his head, “I was singing at the store, a French musician whose music I enjoy. He heard and provided the next line. Turns out he hadn’t heard someone speak French in a while, because he…”
“Just got back from overseas,” Stephen provided for him, and Daniel was shocked to have him say that. How could Stephen even begin to guess at that?
The question went unasked because even as it came to Daniel’s lips, the apartment door opened and all eyes were turned toward it. And there, framed against the hallway, was Nathaniel.
* * * * * *
When Nate had been told that morning that he had to keep himself out of the apartment for most of the evening, he hadn’t really had a problem with the order from his cousin. After all, it was a one time thing, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t turn to Daniel for something to do with his time. That, clearly, had fallen through, but even so he had not been dissuaded from hoping to find some way to pass the time. David, first thing that morning, had offered to have Nate over for the night to help him ‘break in his new game system.’ The offer had sounded nice enough, and so much of his life might have gone differently had the thing not broken down the second they turned it on. David had cursed and threatened the thing for nearly an hour until Nate, though amused, had offered to visit his cousin to borrow a functioning system, maybe even some games. No way Stephen would need it with his scheduled poker game, and Nate could get all of that packed up and even some clothes for the next day if he asked nicely enough. There couldn’t be anything he was really interrupting after all.
To say that walking into the apartment to find a familiar form sitting with his back to the door was surprising would be a definite understatement. But perhaps surprise wasn’t as important as concern when he saw scarlet quickly consuming his cousin’s face. A scarlet that only seemed to spread all the faster as Daniel turned, saw him, and rose immediately out of his seat. The smile that met Nate’s gaze was as warm as Stephen’s expression was murderous, and were it not for the fact that Daniel was approaching to greet him with a light hug, Nate might have just closed the door and walked away. As it was…
“Nate,” Daniel greeted him, his voice loud and happy. “What are you doing here? I thought the door was locked. Wait… Stephen is the cousin you keep telling me about?”
The expression on Stephen’s face only darkened, and as Gary pushed away from the table, as if to get himself out of the line of fire, Nate knew. Just like that he understood what was going on, and why it was so bad. The person Stephen had alluded to, the one he was interested in and had been trying to catch the eye of for a while? Of course it had to be Daniel. How could Nate not have seen it coming? Whenever Stephen had chosen to confide in him in the past about the people he was interested in, they were always of a type. Delicate features, vivid eyes, soft spoken but smart, and absolutely confident when it came to the things they cared about. Daniel could only ever be a flame that his Sig was drawn to. The only question now was how he was supposed to handle it.
“Nathaniel,” Stephen greeted him after he cleared his throat. “I can see you met my friend Daniel around town.”
“I didn’t know the two of you knew each other,” Nate returned, defending himself already. Because the only thing he could do was play defensively here. Daniel probably didn’t even know that a battle was about to be waged here. In fact… maybe that battle shouldn’t be waged while he was still standing in the hall. Thankfully Daniel had released the hug and stepped back to let Nate into the apartment. “I didn’t know Daniel was your other poker friend.”
“Well, not surprising,” Stephen answered. “Though I do remember telling you that poker night was just for us. What are you doing home so soon?”
“Friend’s game system broke down. Was hoping we could borrow yours. Maybe grab some clothes for myself so I can crash there tonight.”
The fury that flashed in Stephen’s eyes seemed to say that Nate was definitely staying there tonight.
“Want to borrow some games too?” Stephen asked. “I’ve got some in my room. How about you come back and pick some out? I’ll show you where they are.”
And so the battle ground was chosen. Even though it was a low blow, Nate did lean down to kiss his boyfriend’s brow before slipping past him. From the corner of his eye he see the ire drawn by the action. Not that Nate cared too much. Maybe the gesture was possessive, but Daniel was dating him, so for the moment he didn’t care.
“Of course,” Nate agreed, moving to follow Stephen once his cousin was moving.
“Should I deal the next game?” Gary asked from the table.
“Not until I’m back,” Stephen answered, and that was ominous in and of itself. Still Nate was silent until his cousin was leading him off, and he left Daniel behind as he went to join Stephen.
Of course he found the door to Stephen’s bedroom closed behind him as he entered the room. No good getting everything off of their chests if it turned out they were overheard. Nate didn’t even bother to wait for Stephen to open his mouth before he sat down on the edge of his cousin’s bed. As used to getting yelled at as he was, he thought it would be better for them both if he wasn’t towering over Stephen, seeing him as the enemy.
“Daniel?” Stephen snarled. “Of all the men in this city, of all the people, you had to choose the man I’ve been after forever?”
As if that was a fair argument to present. Nate just shook his head. “One, I didn’t choose him, it just happened. Two, you never told me who it was you were after. Three…”
“You never told me who your ‘mystery man’ was,” Stephen countered. “Fuck, you’re only here for a few days, and you’ve already ruined more than a year of work. How could you do this to me? Thank god you’re leaving town soon, because I don’t think I could handle…”
“I’m not leaving,” Nate interrupted him. Which left Stephen just staring at him in something like horror.
“No, Nate, you are,” Stephen insisted. “You’re going home to Maine. Remember? When this is over you’re going to go home to Maine and you’re not coming back here because making a rash decision like that, even for Daniel, is way too much.”
“I’ve made up my mind, and I want to try to live a life here instead,” Nate insisted. “Listen, I’m sorry that the man I feel for happened to be the one you wanted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m dating him. So will you just relax about…”
“No,” Stephen snapped. “God, don’t you even… God, just get your stuff and get out of here, dammit. The last thing I want to see right now is your damn face after you’ve gone and done this to me.”
“I haven’t done anything to you, Sig,” Nate sighed, trying to keep himself calm. “I haven’t…”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that when you’ve hurt me like this. Betrayed me.”
Why in the world did he have to see it like that? It was stupid, more than stupid. Frustratingly bad decisions were being made here, and there was nothing Nate could do. Well, no, he could give Stephen the space he needed right now.
“Fine,” Nate sighed, pushing to his feet. “You know how to reach me when you calm the hell down. Because you will. Sooner or later you’ll realize how stupid it is to be mad at me for something I didn’t even know, not to mention something I can’t really control.”
Stephen huffed at that statement, moving to open the bedroom door. “Maybe you’ll come to your senses and stop setting Daniel up for the pain you’re going to inflict on him when you disappear in a week. Seriously, what sort of asshole starts romancing a guy you’re never going to see again?”
For a moment Nate just stayed there, trying to put it all together. Why did Stephen have to be so irrational over all of this?
“What do you mean he left!?” Stephen’s voice tore through the apartment, and Nate could tell what it meant. Apparently Daniel had gotten a feel for the situation after all. Nate almost wanted to smile over that. But really, it was only going to make things with Stephen more complicated. Nate reached up to run his hand over his head. He could feel it getting a bit longer than he liked. Quietly he decided he would have to deal with that in the morning, which meant packing his shaving kit as well. Sighing Nate headed for the bathroom. For now he’d only grab the essentials. Surely Stephen would cool down by the morning. Still, on the off chance he wouldn’t, Nate wanted to grab things for a few days. Which meant his toiletries had go into the duffel in Stephen’s office with some of his new clothes. And, once all of that was done, he headed for the door, not bothering to meet the gaze of either Stephen or Gary, who had settled on the couch. Interrupting them now would only make things worse.
Good thing David was due back here soon enough.
* * * * * *
The thing is, neither of them was nearly so subtle as they may have liked to think. Or perhaps it was they underestimated Daniel’s powers of observation when things seemed off. Perhaps they didn’t realize they were radiating aggression in a way that Daniel couldn’t help but see himself in the middle of. And then the muffled shouting had started and Daniel knew, without a doubt, what was going on. Okay, well, really he was more suspicious than anything, but something told him he knew how this was going to go. Which was why, in the end, he had bundled back up into his warm clothes and headed out of the apartment building to sit on one of the benches near the door. The chill of the night air was getting to him, but Daniel just fluffed his scarf up around his neck, ducked the lower part of his face into the warmth, and pulled the gloves from his coat pocket so he could tug them on.
They weren’t, of course, nearly so warm as Nate’s hand in his. But Daniel, well, he’d have to do for just a bit longer.
In the end it turned out to be fifteen full minutes that Daniel waited outside, trembling with the cold, before the doors of the apartment opened and Nate came out, his own fists in the pouch of his sweatshirt and a large, military issue duffel bag over his shoulder. Clearly the other man didn’t notice him, though, not with the attention he was giving his phone. Probably contacting David if Daniel really thought about it. Not that he intended to let David get Nate away from him before they could talk.
Which was why he cleared his throat. The sound, due to the chill of the air, came out less clearly than Daniel had wanted. God he could use a hot drink. But there were more pressing things, so he just licked his lips and called out.
“Was that what I thought that was, Nathaniel?”
The other man moved like a flash. One second his boyfriend was there, walking away from him, the next the duffel was on the ground and it was like Nate was reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. Daniel really wasn’t offended by that, in fact he was impressed by the other man’s reaction speed. What he was bothered by, though, was the look Nate wore, one that almost said the shock had been enough to drive Daniel’s very existence from the other man’s mind. But that expression was gone in half a second, and Nate was looking at him bashfully as he grabbed up his bag again.
“Depends. What did you think it was?”
Daniel rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand in front of his boyfriend. “Stephen, your cousin… he isn’t dating Gary, is he?”
“No,” Nathaniel agreed quietly, and Daniel felt himself deflate a little at the confirmation. All this time, and he hadn’t even suspected. And now he had hurt his friend, and used his cousin to do it.
“It is me that he’s interested in, isn’t it?” Daniel asked with another sigh, and Nate just nodded in response. “Well, tidy little mess I got us into, isn’t it? Your cousin has a touch of a temper, if you didn’t know.”
“Figured that out,” Nate answered, shrugging. “Listen, I…”
“David must be waiting for you, right?” Daniel provided immediately, and Nate nodded briefly. “Can he wait?”
“He thinks I’m staying there tonight,” Nate admitted, and when Daniel gestured toward the parking lot, Nate started to move with him. “My cousin, Stephen, he may have kicked me out for the night.”
If Daniel knew how Stephen could hold a grudge, and he’d heard plenty of stories over poker of things Stephen did to people he didn’t much like, he thought it would be more than that. Asking David to agree to something like that for so long, Daniel found himself wondering if there wasn’t something better he could offer. And couldn’t he? When he really thought about it, couldn’t he? His couch was surely as comfortable as the other man’s, and it was his fault this was happening, wasn’t it?
“Stay with me.”
The words tumbled out quickly. Daniel almost wanted to call them back, but he knew he had said them so fast because he had wanted them out there before he could go back on the decision. If he was going to be losing the other man, he might as well steal as much time as he could with the other man, right? But Nate froze at the question, and when he looked, Daniel saw the shock on his face.
“Really?” Nate asked after a moment. “You’re certain?”
“We’re friends,” Daniel pointed out. “Well, dating really, but this is still my fault, to some degree. At the very least I’m as responsible as you and Stephen are for this whole thing. Besides, it not forever, right? My couch is comfortable, you eat breakfast with me anyway, and I have to say I’d enjoy the excuse to have dinners with you, so it’s not a problem, right?”
Instead of a straight answer, he found himself pulled into a nearly painfully tight hug. Daniel tried not to laugh too much at the pleasure of it, at the warmth. There was so much strength here, and already he knew he was going to miss it when it was gone. For now, though, he intended to revel in the contact while he could have it. All he wanted was to stay here in the limitless wonder of these arms.
“Shall we?” Daniel asked when Nate finally let him go.
“I should probably tell David that our night together is off,” Nate reminded him, producing his phone from the pouch on his sweatshirt. “Mostly because we don’t want to upset another person tonight.”
Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle at the statement. Even though he’d upset one of his better friends, something about tonight felt good anyway. Maybe it was the way Nate didn’t continue to the car, but rather focused on the text first. Because the second it was sent off Nate’s hand reached for his, and Daniel had to smile. Even through his glove he could feel the warmth and the strength of the grip. How could anything possibly be better than this?
“There,” Nate announced as he let Daniel pull them toward his car. “What are we going to do with our night?”
“If we’re lucky, we can enjoy a quiet night in my apartment, maybe with a movie or a game,” Daniel suggested. “Mostly I spend Thursdays on music when I’m not here. Well, that and lately I hope David and Shaun don’t have another bad date. Sometimes Shaun ends up in my apartment, hoping for cheering up. If he does…”
Nate nodded without prompting. “Best friends who are like brothers before boyfriends. I get that.”
Thank god for the small things. Daniel smiled and stopped them by his car. As much as he hated it, he had to drop Nate’s hand to unlock the door. God help him he just wanted to hold that hand all the way back. But for now he had to be reasonable. Soon enough he could be home, sitting on his couch, maybe leaning against Nate, as they watched a movie. It would be amazing. Amazing enough that Daniel couldn’t help but smile.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Nate offered. “Why the smile?”
“Would you be horribly offended if I told you that I intend to use you like a pillow while we watch whatever we watch?”
The smile the got in return was amazing, and it made Daniel’s heart swell in a weird way. But the best way. Chuckling Daniel got into the car and leaned across to unlock it for Nate. Almost immediately the door opened before him and Nate caught his hand again. Daniel stared at him with a blush, one that only grew deeper as Nate leaned in and pulled Daniel’s hand up. Nate’s lips brushed against the back of Daniel’s gloved hand, and it was just amazing to watch him like that. If only his glove had been off. Then, with a chuckle, Nate released him and Daniel was left to stare as his boyfriend got into the car. God help him, he had to figure out how to keep this man in his life. The only question was how.
“Don’t be so silly,” Daniel chided him once Nate was in the car and his bag was in the back seat.
“Silly? Thought that was supposed to be charming.”
“Charm and sap are two different things,” Daniel warned. “And I know sap. Shaun has a secret fixation on romantic comedy movies.”
Nate’s laughter warmed the atmosphere of the car, and Daniel had to laugh with him even though he didn’t know why.
“Of course,” Nate said at last. “It seems right up his alley. He seems quite happy with David though.”
“Trust me, he’s living his own little romance movie right now,” Daniel responded as he buckled up and started the car. “I just hope he gets a happy ending.”
For that matter, he wouldn’t much mind one himself.
* * * * * *
Being in Daniel’s apartment felt different than it had before. Granted last time he had been here because he had been a friend invited over for a meal, but that had been the night things had changed, hadn’t it? Still, was the difference between him now and him then so marked that he should feel different simply by being here? How did that make any sense at all? Yet the difference was there in the air as Nathaniel toed his shoes off and looked around the apartment. Perhaps it was in the fact that he was going to be staying. When his shoes came off this time, they wouldn’t go back on until the sun had risen. The difference was important, even if he couldn’t put his finger on quite why.
He must have been caught up in those thoughts because when he had his shoes finally arranged by the door and looked up again, Daniel was nowhere to be seen. There was light and noise from the kitchen, though, and so Nate had to assume the location.
“Where should I put my stuff?” Nate called out cautiously. Would the noise be loud enough to draw Shaun’s attention? He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to explain the whole situation to Daniel’s best friend right now. His hope was that Daniel would come up with a way to make this sound less terrible by morning.
“Just drop your bag inside the door to my bedroom,” Daniel’s voice suggested from the kitchen. “I’m making hot chocolate. Would you like some?”
“I would, thank you,” Nate agreed, looking around. There was only two doors in the apartment he hadn’t gone through yet. One was in the bathroom, and it was in the wall the bathroom shared with the room Nathaniel assumed was behind the other door. Daniel’s bedroom.
“Anything special with it?” Daniel called again as Nate came to a stop in front of the closed door. “I’ve got cinnamon, nutmeg, chili powder, and mini-marshmallows. Oh, and milk or water?”
So many questions. Still, thinking about those did keep him from over thinking as he opened the door to the bedroom. He caught a brief glimpse of green by the light of the living room, and then just tucked his bag around the corner of the door. That done he closed it and shuffled in his socks toward Daniel’s kitchen. There he found the slight man, smiling to himself as he worked to gather everything he had mentioned. Nate leaned against the frame of the door and smiled.
“Milk, and nutmeg,” Nate answered, and while Daniel flinched the tiniest bit at his sudden words, when the other man turned to look at him, it was with a smile.
“A man after my own heart,” Daniel smiled. “Though I am also fond of cinnamon, late and night I prefer the richer flavor of the nutmeg. Just so you know, my couch, it’s a fold out bed. I haven’t used it since I moved in, but I’ve got sheets, and hopefully it will be long enough for a man your height. I can bring out some spare pillows and sheets for you, but I’m not sure what to do for blankets. None of the ones I have are quite as long as you are.”
“Few tend to be,” Nate assured him, moving into the kitchen to be closer to Daniel. “Don’t worry, it already sounds like a better setup than I’ve had at Stephen’s. And what you’re offering me is already a great kindness.”
“Do good for your fellow man and good will be done for you,” Daniel shrugged. “My mother tells me that all the time. I try to live by it.”
“Good lesson.”
Daniel smiled again, and then turned his attention to constructing their drinks. For a few minutes they were there in a comfortable sort of silence. For all that Nate had never been a big talker himself, listening to other people talking tended to be a comfort. Yet here, with Daniel, he was quite content to enjoy the silence between them. Perhaps it was because of the ease of it. It was as if neither of them really felt obligated to fill the silence. It was another companion for them, and a welcome one. So they stood there, Daniel making cocoa and Nate just watching the motion of his delicate fingers.
“Here,” Daniel said, when he finally offered a mug to Nate. “Join me on the couch?”
Nate smiled and nodded, gesturing for the other man to lead the way in his own home. That drew another smile from the man, and together they moved to get situated on the couch. Almost immediately after Nate got himself comfortable leaning against an arm, there was Daniel, looking at him with a question in his eyes. While he didn’t know what it was, Nate nodded to it, and it was good to know that whatever it was, Daniel was asking. Then, a second later, Daniel was sitting as well, leaning against Nate.
It was like parts of him became hyper aware. Every bit of him that was in contact with Daniel seemed to heat up. Not that he was really warmer or uncomfortable. It was just that the contact was comforting. The warmth of him was wonderful. No, more than wonderful. Welcome, like the heat of the cocoa through the mug. He didn’t need that heat, didn’t need to let himself be caught up in it, but the touch made him feel like he was home. It was comfortable, it was nice, and it was right. Something in the back of his head said it was right and good for Daniel to be here like this. Like it was something he’d always wanted but never known to ask for.
“Luckily you’re not going to need it too long.”
Nate sat there, blinking, as he tried to figure out what Daniel meant. Maybe he went stiff in his pondering, or maybe Daniel just thought it was a weird statement as well, because soon his shoulders were shaking with a held back chuckle.
“Well, that was indeed a non sequitur. What I meant as the couch bed. I imagine Stephen might hold this against you only a few days. Then you’ll be back at his place, and then wherever you’re going when you leave for your reunion. And then…”
The way Daniel’s voice trailed off, getting slower and sadder, only made Nate’s chest ache. Good thing he had a way to handle that, to get rid of the sorrow that threatened to bubble up in him.
“And then I’ll come back here,” Nate supplied, his voice a whisper. Maybe he was nervous about admitting this to Daniel. Okay, he was definitely nervous. What if Daniel didn’t agree with David? What if he was more of Stephen’s point of view, that such a decision was rash? Or what if he didn’t think he was worthy of such a decision?
The way Daniel tilted his head up and over his shoulder to look at Nate. Was it hope or concern he saw in those eyes? As Daniel leaned forward and put his mug on the table, was he doing it because he was about to lecture Nathaniel, or was it because he was hoping to do something else altogether.
What he got was Daniel turning so he was really looking at Nate, and those eyes, those vivid green eyes were so perfectly beautiful in that moment. They shone and danced in the light of the room. So beautiful, and so perfect as Daniel leaned forward and again their lips met. Could a touch be more perfect? Soft and gentle, warm from the cocoa and Daniel’s on body heat. Without thinking Nate let his free hand wrap around Daniel’s shoulders, and the other man let it happen. Time must have meant something still during that contact, but that didn’t mean Nate could really feel it passing. The moment was infinite, and so painfully fleeting as Daniel finally pulled back and looked up at Nate, a slight smile curling his lips.
“If that’s what you want, who am I to do anything to stop you?” Daniel said, his voice a whisper that made Nate want to lean in again and rejoin their kiss, just for the simple pleasure of the contact. But he kept the space between them, smiling back at the look he was given.
“So you don’t disapprove? People seem to think it would be a way for me to throw away a sure thing.”
“People don’t know what it’s like to need a fresh start sometimes,” Daniel chuckled, shifting once more so he was sitting with most of his weight resting against Nate once more. “Shaun and myself? We’ve been through it. This is our second chance, our new shot at life because of our own decisions. If I let myself have that, how could I be so hypocritical as to deny it to you? I told you, ‘do good for your fellow man’ is my mother’s motto. How can I not apply it to you?”
Nate chuckled and draped his free arm over Daniel’s shoulder, pulling him closer. For a time he was just going to enjoy the contact. Until it was taken from him so Daniel could sleep, he was going to enjoy this. The warmth, the companionship, and most definitely the support Daniel was offering.
“If you want, I’ll even help you find a job, if you’ll do one thing for me first,” Daniel said, amusement in his voice.
“What’s that?” Nate asked, smiling himself, even though Daniel wouldn’t see it.
“Could you reach over there and get me my cocoa?”
delta/sigma please? :))
More Assistant and Enigma AU I guess. It’s in me now. Curse you Rae.
There is something about Delta. Try as he might, Sigma cannot figure out what it is about Delta that captivates him. Is it the hair, dark as night and looking soft as silk. Or is it in the eyes, deep and brilliant as emeralds? Lips soft like the color of salmon roses. Skin clear as a dream and colored like milk.
Sigma wants to leave marks. He wants to drag the other student into his arms and hold him close and kiss him until the man opens up to him. That’s how he works. Sigma knows he’s all action, the quick burn, a brush fire that starts and burns across the nation. But one look at Delta tells him all he needs to know. This isn’t a quick burn sort of thing he’s feeling. It’s kindled in his gut and blazing through his veins and the burn...
No, this is going to be a slow burn, and Sigma thinks that’s going to be the greatest thing he’s ever known.
