Sacred Elements
Lodi and Ikora find some time for a break at the Tower.
[ ao3 link | song title link ]
Everyone’s got their vices. Smoking is Lodi’s.
Not that he’s proud of it – even for as infrequently as he does it, it’s a habit he’s never quite been able to kick – but in a strange roundabout way, it doesn’t grate at him the way it used to. Something about it feels distinctly…human in a way that most other things don’t for him. Not anymore, at least.
Maybe that’s why the weeks of going without a light hit him especially hard after landing on Kepler. As it turns out, the stress of having your body ripped through time and space with no prior warning tends to wind you up a lot more than you’d think, nevermind all the brushes with the fourth dimension his mind’s been sent through. In any case, it’s one hell of an edge he needs taken off. Do cigarettes even exist in the future?
Thankfully, Drifter was the answer to this question. Lodi’d tossed out his curiosity in passing during one visit to the Derelict, and Drifter responded by disappearing behind one of the many piles of junk accumulating around the hull. When he reemerged, he tossed him a small box, clearly faded with age but still fairly intact.
“Saved that one for a rainy day,” Drifter had told him with a wink. “You look like you just got poured on.”
It’s not much – only half of the pack was remaining by the time it’d ended up in Lodi’s hands – but he’s grateful for it all the same. If nothing else, it’s been able to hold him over until things settle down. Returning to the City came nowhere close to meaning the work was over.
It’s been about a week since he’d arrived back on Earth with everyone. (Their Earth, he has to remind himself. He’s not sure how long it’ll take before he can start calling it his own. Maybe he never will.) Lodi’s spent most of his time running around the Tower, busy with introductions and offering his help wherever it’s needed. It’s not until one particularly rainy day where he’s able to finally find a spare moment to breathe.
He finds a place under the awning near Hawthorne’s setup (great gal – same goes for that bird friend of hers. Not every day you get to share a name with a falcon). The rain’s coming down in sheets, and judging by the darkened mid-afternoon sky, shows no sign of letting up anytime soon. Most of the people in the courtyard have receded indoors, save for the occasional group of Guardians that jog past with a purpose. Watching the world pass along, Lodi leans himself against one of the interior wooden supports, careful not to knock over the pile of pillows at his feet.
He pulls the weathered pack out of his belt pouch, fumbling for a moment before fishing his old lighter out after it. One of the few remaining things from his time, save for his old man’s watch nestled safely under his gauntlet. He already knows he’ll hang onto both of these things long after they outrun their use.
His brow furrows with mild annoyance as the sparkwheel flicks under his thumb. Tiny white sparks intermingle with the cerulean glow from his eye with no flame to show for it. He curses under his breath, turning his back to the rainy outside world in hopes of catching a successful light.
When he does, another flame meets him just below eye level. Blinking in surprise, he looks up to follow the source. Ikora’s standing behind him, pointer finger holding out a small mote of Solar Light like a candle wick.
She smiles politely. “I figured I’d save you the hassle.”
Lodi’s shoulders relax with a warm chuff, leaning forward to light his cigarette over her hand. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, words slightly clenched between his teeth as smoke puffs from his lips.
There’s some small talk exchanged under the dim light of the awning. They’d barely set foot back on Earth when Ikora was once again swept away by her Vanguard duties. With all the revelations they’d brought back with them from Kepler, it was she who shouldered most of the work that came after. Even before their arrival, Lodi doesn’t remember the last time they truly had a chance to talk like this.
Ikora pauses for a moment following a story recounting a recent Vanguard meeting. She shifts her posture against the wooden beam opposite Lodi, gaze falling to the pack still in his hand. After a moment of contemplation, she reaches forward, plucking the last cigarette from the box.
Lodi does a double-take. “You smoke?”
“Very rarely,” Ikora admits, ducking her head away from the rain to summon her Solar Light again. “Meditation is my preferred method of…decompression. But curiosity is a whim worth indulging every once in a while.”
She pauses, brow furrowed with a playful expression she throws Lodi’s way. “Don’t tell Zavala.”
To this, he says nothing. Lodi watches her light the cigarette between her lips, and when he blinks, everything is different.
It’s the 60s again. It’s cold and rainy, and Louis is muttering something under his breath about how much he hates Chicago autumns. He’s leaning against the concrete pillar of the parking garage across the drive from the office, and when he looks to his side he sees Nella across from him, telling him you chose this, Wisconsin, I don’t wanna hear it. She struggles with the lighter after Louis tosses it over to her, and he teases her when the damn thing refuses to light. Nella sneers at him. The flame finally ignites after a few botched attempts.
He blinks again. Ikora’s in her place, doing that little party trick with the tip of her finger. When she flicks her wrist the flame is gone. She takes a drag, and when she exhales, Nella does too, a thousand years away.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ikora catches Lodi staring. She turns to him, and the glint of Nella’s glasses in the cold Chicago evening feels like it’s piercing a hole right through his chest.
“Is something bothering you?”
It takes him a moment to snap out of it. Lodi’s free hand reaches up to adjust his glasses, sheepishly turning his gaze away to clear his vision. He takes another drag of his own cigarette, taking advantage of the pause to gather himself again. Come on now, both feet planted in the present.
When he looks back up at her, Nella is gone.
He lets the smoke seep through his lips with a soft sigh. Ikora follows his gaze out to the horizon, the lights of the Last City twinkling in the rain like stars.
“Nothing,” he finally says. “Just a little déjà vu.”
