CONTAINS CONTENT:
– Warnings for an intimate, and disturbing murder during the SECOND flashback (italics) scene.
You can read a summary in the related trivia.
{{Unedited}}
When Marielle got to Valorant, everything felt distant, blurry, and wrong; like the world had tilted sideways.
She’d taken a few extra minutes to sob in Austin’s shower, collected her things, and went to the kitchen, where fresh coffee was waiting for her. She cried more as she stirred in her cream and sugar; he’d made her coffee and left it for her for when she woke up.
She managed her way into the building, up the elevator, and to her office door without seeing or hearing Austin.
That didn’t last long, however. The moment that she entered the room she was greeted with a soft, brown teddy staring at her from the desk with big, icy blue eyes. In its paws was a single daffodil. She went to it and picked it up. It was… egregiously cute.
Underneath it was a card with her name in Austin’s writing. She pulled it from the envelope – a single, blooming red rose on the front – opened it, and read.
Most perfect and lovely Masin,
It was enough. You are enough.
– Yours always, your Austin.
She rested against the wall where she knew that he was on the other side and cried silent tears, wondering if he was doing the same thing. He was. She could feel him. The pain was nearly unbearable, but he was being as composed as possible. His ability to keep together was about how he was trained, not about how he felt.
-I’ll fall apart later, dar-… Marielle.
She put her head back, knowing that they were touching through the wall as she held the teddy bear close.
-Thank you for my coffee this morning.
-Felt like the least I could do. I wanted to do about seventy other things… couldn’t. Didn’t. Didn’t have the time… hurt too badly.
She covered her mouth, trying to stop the crying. She knew that feeling well, she’d experienced it all morning before she left his house, taking one last glance over her shoulder at the living room and watching the ghosts that would haunt that space forever with sadness. -Do you have any appointments?
-Erik will be here any minute, and I’m filling out paperwork on him.
-Goodluck with that. She chuckled, but it was an empty, broken chuckle.
There was silence for a moment. Then he filled it. -God, I can’t stop myself. I’m in love with you, Marielle. I’m sorry. Maybe I won’t stop saying it. I won’t act on it outwardly… I’m just praying that you come with me at the end of the year. Maybe I’m a fool, but I have to keep my hope right now.
She squeezed the bear to her breast. -Thank you for my bear… and a beautiful weekend.
-Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. If I wanted anything to flash before my eyes before I met my maker… I’d choose this last thirty-six hours. She clenched her eyes shut. -I’m angry. I’m hurt. I have no idea how I’m going to get through this.
-I’m your best friend, Austin. I’m with you.
He went silent; she understood why.
She spotted her contract, lifted it, glanced over her signature, and clenched her teeth. She hated it; the words, and the visual of her own name in her own writing. She crumbled it up into a ball and tossed it into the trashcan.
She put the card into the drawer at her desk, thinking that she’d probably never look at it again for fear that she’d break down.
She lifted the bear, looking into his pleading blue eyes. “I’ll name you Chocolate,” she whispered.
-Chocolate’s a good name for a bear.
She smiled, softly. He could always hear her if he wanted to. -Are you always just going to be listening?
-I’ll try and give you your privacy. He replied sadly, and she felt something disconnect like hanging up a phone. Not more than a minute later, she heard the distant sound of a knock and knew that Austin was welcoming Erik in.
Austin’s tone was sad, but she knew that Erik didn’t even notice it. The swede was blunt to a fault, and expected others to be the same with him; consequently, he frequently missed cues and expressions on those around him.
She put Chocolate on the book shelf so that he was watching over her, and partially covered him with books and a few nick knacks so he wasn’t the first thing anyone saw if they scanned the room.
Her phone buzzed, and she unlocked it and looked down.
I’m coming home, Masin. The plane landed, and I’ll be there this afternoon. I feel that after how we parted the other day that we will probably have a lot to talk about. But I love you. Please remember that I love you. -Vincent.
She lifted the phone and typed. We will, yes. But I love you, too.
Her stomach churned, and she hugged herself around the middle. She could still faintly hear Austin and Erik, and she secretly wished to be there in the room with them.
This was one of the weirdest, and most difficult “break ups” that she’d ever experienced. She tried to compare it to one of them and none of them came to mind.
What came to her mind was Morgan.
***
He’d smiled at her warmly when he entered the coffee shop and came to sit across from her as he removed his scarf.
Christmas was just a few weeks away and while it was true that she couldn’t remember snow in this part of California in many years, it had been abnormally cold that year.
She smiled at him sadly as he ran his fingers through his dark hair a few times, and as her mind moved over this memory, she thought about how he did in fact look a little like Vincent. Tall, thin, less muscular on top, but still a bit – Morgan always liked to take care of his body – dark hair and eyes, earrings. Probably the biggest difference was the facial hair.
“I hope that I don’t seem presumptuous, I got you coffee,” Marielle said gesturing to his cup.
“Not at all, Marielle, that’s perfect,” he replied with genuine gratefulness as he sighed at the warmth coating his hands.
Something that she’d always loved about Morgan was that he was one of the most genuine people she’d ever met. It was almost too perfect. Some of it reminded her of Austin.
She cleared her throat. “So…” She wasn’t sure how to begin. She found there were no words on her lips.
“Let me start,” he helped. “It’s not working, and we both know that.”
She filled her lungs with air and breathed out slowly, they’d given one another the “we need to talk” earlier before they’d left for work; both knew what was coming. She leaned back in her chair and mindlessly swirled her coffee. He reached over and took her hand, “Marielle, I want to be really clear about something. You didn’t do anything, I actually love you, just…”
She understood, and was actually a bit relieved that he was admitting it, “just not like you love her,” she said distantly, and she smiled at him.
He looked down, the ghost of a smile moving over his lips. “Yeah…” He looked back up to her. “Marielle, I’ve done nothing to disrespect you. Sabine doesn’t even know.”
Marielle smiled warmly at him, “she knows… or at least… she hopes.”
Morgan’s eyes lit up a little. “Does she?”
Marielle nodded. “She loves you, too.” Morgan let out a deep, quick sigh and looked down into his lap. “I know that you haven’t cheated on me, Morgan. You’re too much of a gentleman for that,” she giggled. “But you have to be true to yourself,” she looked off out the window starting to feel the pang of realization as another relationship crumbled, but knowing that this was not only right, but that she was okay with it. She found a real smile on her mouth. “Actually,” she began, tilting her head thoughtfully, “I’m happy for you, and her.” She grinned, turning back to him. “I love you both, and I want you to be happy.” She chuckled, meeting eyes with him again. “I’ll never be anything but overjoyed for you both,” she explained as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
He shifted, obviously unsure whether to reach over and take her hand or it was inappropriate at this time. “Are you sure, Marielle?”
She scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll go home, have a good cry, drink my tea, and eat some chocolate ice cream with butterscotch syrup, and tomorrow? I’ll be just fine,” she explained, and she knew that she would be. She squeezed both of his hands in hers thinking it an odd gesture since he was slipping away from her. His eyes were starting to well also. “I do mean that, too. I’ve known for a few weeks now that this was where this was going, I just didn’t want to rush running away this time.” He nodded; he felt the same way. “I really do mean that I’ll be okay. I don’t want you to worry about me. We’ve had a great relationship, better than so many ever get to have… we never really fought, we loved each other well, we laughed a lot. It’s just… not there,” she said. She knew that he agreed.
With her words, both looked at one another for a moment as if they would ask ‘so why are we breaking up?’ But both knew that deep down this was what they wanted and more importantly, needed.
This relationship was loving, caring, and compassionate, but had little to no passion or excitement. Both Morgan and Marielle felt like they had been married for thirty years already, and Marielle knew in her spirit that Morgan would be more passionate and pleasing to Sabine.
She also knew that she was looking for something entirely different. She wanted to laugh more, and play more… she wanted to stare at the stars together, she wanted to go on adventures together, she wanted to go to fancy dinners, and travel, she wanted to be a goofball, she wanted to feel alive, she wanted to stand side by side with someone she could fire a gun with, not go to separate parts of the building as Morgan was in chemistry and research. She wanted to dance…
***
She wanted the man next door to her right now… all of him.
Exhaling her frustration, anxiety, and sadness, she decided to go down to the kitchen for something to drink; she didn’t even know what. Hopefully their minds would close a little to one another.
When she reached the ground floor, she was relieved and at the same time saddened to realize that yes, they were in fact far enough away not to hear one another. She strained and heard only static as she headed toward the kitchen.
On her way there, she brushed passed Hazal and gave her a friendly nod of acknowledgement. Hazal acknowledged her back, but only with her mismatched eyes. Marielle understood, that was Hazal after all; distant, aloof, frightening.
But, only a few feet from their passing, Hazal jerked to a stop and her jaw tensed, “you’re afraid,” she whispered. Marielle heard it and paused. They turned to one another, eyes searching. Hazal slowly approached her and Marielle shirked back a little.
Hazal raised her lovely hand as if to say ‘it’s okay, I won’t hurt you,’ and slowly came to her. “Let me feel it, I want to understand,” she said gently, and she gave Marielle a soft, forced smile. “If anyone would know fear… I would… give your fears to me.”
Marielle froze, trembling, as she remembered the last time that she encountered Hazal. While not her, Marielle knew firsthand what this particular person could do to her; she also remembered that the male Hazal gave up chasing her.
Hazal continued to advance to her, hand raised. “I won’t hurt you, Marielle. I don’t think it’s in my power,” she whispered with a soft, genuine smile that lit up both of her eyes; the red and the blue. “Neither will Nightmare.”
Marielle felt her eyes well and she looked down, leaning back against the wall. She started to see the world around her buzz as Hazal’s powers grew stronger and more intimate- closing around them. After a moment, she was at Marielle’s side and Marielle heard the swirling whispers – I’m in your head… Hazal’s elegant hand caressed the side of Marielle’s cheek, and she took in a sharp breath. “You are afraid, but not for you, and not of me,” she said, thoughtfully.
Marielle broke down. “I – I don’t know what’s going to happen to him.”
Hazal looked down as if trying to consider what Marielle was saying, and Marielle felt the familiar tingling running up her arms and neck that set her teeth on edge.
Hazal searched Marielle’s eyes, “it’s okay, it won’t do anything to you,” she whispered. She shook her head, “you’re so afraid,” she continued, distantly, then realization flicked across her gaze, “for Doctor Rancor.” Marielle’s face contorted in agony as she closed her eyes and pressed Hazal’s hand against her cheek, leaning into her palm a little. Hazal gave her a sad, broken smile. “I like you; you know? It’s hard for me… you know that.”
Marielle nodded speaking through her tears, “everyone’s afraid of you.”
“They’re afraid of Nightmare,” Hazal corrected. Marielle wasn’t going to argue with her, she understood well the way that Hazal’s abilities had scrambled her mind. “You never have been, have you?” Marielle shook her head. Hazal said something under her breath in Turkish, and met her gaze once more. “Let me have it, I can try to take it from you or ease it a little.”
Marielle cocked her head to the side, looking over the woman’s sweet face, the line of henna across her nose, the red and blue eye, curiously. “Won’t that hurt you more?”
Hazal nodded. “It always hurts.”
Marielle stared, distantly. “Why would you do that for me?” She asked brokenly.
“I can’t stand it on someone that I care about.”
Marielle’s face twisted in confusion and curiosity. “You care about me?”
Hazal gave her a compassionate nod. “Come,” she whispered, gesturing with her head to the elevators, and the two women went up to the guest rooms to be alone.
Once in one of the open guest rooms, Marielle shifted uncomfortably against the closed door. “How does this work? I- I’ve never done this before.”
“I’m going to have you come here,” Hazal explained gesturing to the bed, where Hazal knelt. “I cannot take this away permanently, or take it all. But I might be able to help you for a time while you learn to manage it.”
“Is that what you do? Learn to manage it? Is that why you take it away?” Marielle asked rubbing her left elbow, nervously. Her guns were starting to really bother her.
“Yes. I try and experience new fears to learn to conquer them,” she explained. She gestured to the bed. “Unfortunately, Nightmare and I have never quite come to the right place. Someday, perhaps, Allah willing.” She patted the mattress. “Come sit with me.” Hesitantly, Marielle went to it, and sat stiffly next to her. Hazal got on her knees and motioned for Marielle to do the same. “The bed might seem strange, but it’s to help if one of us faints.” She slowly put both of her manicured hands to the side of Marielle’s face and as if guided by an unknown force, the two locked eyes; Hazal’s becoming deeply serious as her red eye glowed brightly.
Marielle was unable to break her gaze and as the two stared deeply into one another, her eyes welled and tears began to stream down her face. She could feel Hazal pulling the information – the fear – out of her. She knew that Hazal was starting to see images in Marielle’s mind of Austin, then Tundra, and what he was.
When Marielle had moved into and through Tundra, she’d seen and experienced the murders… she kept pushing these thoughts and images aside, ignoring them over the last few days, and even using Austin to paint over the trauma in her mind. However, as she and Hazal were locked together, and Marielle could feel Hazal’s abilities working inside of her, she began to see each of them as they occurred, scraping her psyche raw.
Marielle’s mouth opened a little, and a sound came out that resembled anguish, but Hazal only gripped a bit more tightly. Then she closed her eyes as if watching all of them as well behind her closed eyelids.
Marielle tried in vain to push the first of these memories aside. It didn’t work and she melted into the first memory- the one that she’d repressed for over a week.
***
The prostitute took a slow, calculated step back.
Tundra looked like he knew from the way that she was looking at him that she’d seen men who were unhinged before, and she was trying to decide whether his type of unhinged was the kind that was going to lead to a crazy night, or one that ended with the police showing up and body bags.
He set the knife down on the bed next to him and shook his head, tears streaking down his face.
“Easy, baby,” she said calmly, trying to shift his mood.
“Sharon, P-please don’t call me baby?” He asked, shaking. He put his arms around himself and squeezed. “Please?” He met bloodshot, exhausted eyes with her.
“Okay.” She forced a soft smile at him as her eyes darted to the door, then back to him. “What should I call you?”
“D-darling,” he whispered, shakily. Then he reached his right hand up to her, beckoning her to him. “I- I’m sorry,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I know that I’m scaring you right now… I’m scared, too.” He squeezed himself around his middle again, and his face twisted in agony as tears filled his eyes. “I’m scared too… I’m so, so scared, Marielle,” he cried.
The prostitute– Sharon’s eyes softened a little and again she glanced at the hotel door. Her only way out. “Was that her name?”
He nodded. “I- I know you’re scared, but I- I -lost my wife,” he chuckled, distantly through his sobs and looked down. “In a lot of ways, actually. S-she died.” He shook his head, all his dark, sweat slicked hair falling into his eyes. “And I know what this looks like right now but I p-promise, I didn’t kill her,” he cried. “I didn’t kill her, I promise.”
“What happened?” She asked, her eyes now filling with compassion.
Tundra’s face twisted in agony again. “S-s-she left me… for this other guy we know. Then she got cancer and died?” He barely got out. She put her fingertips to her mouth, eyes watering. “I-I wanted to kill myself. I haven’t wanted to live for so long. I hate my life.” He was gently rocking himself, squeezing his middle as if longing for a hug.
She flicked her gaze to the knife, then to him, then to the door, and back. “Do you want a hug before I leave?”
“Please?”
“I won’t do this if you don’t put the knife away. I didn’t agree to knife play.”
“It wasn’t for you, it was for me,” he growled, his eyes giant wells of torture.
She sat down by him, gently taking the blade in her hand, and trembling, she put it in the drawer on the nightstand. “What was it that you said you wanted? Me to call you darling?” He nodded, vigorously. “Does that help?”
“A little,” he whispered, calming.
She took his face into her hands and turned it to look at her. He looked entirely broken… like a little boy whose puppy had just been run over. Her heart shattered. “Okay, darling,” she whispered, and she kissed him; first a sweet, soft kiss as his sobs stilled and the quiet of the room enveloped them like blackness itself.
He kissed her back, feeling the softness of her lips as he slipped her his tongue, his hands beginning to roam as his tears subsided. “Oh, Marielle,” he whispered. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I’m so, so sorry.”
They continued their make out, and he slowly lay her back on the bed, coming over her, and looking down into the woman’s eyes. “I just want you closer,” he cried.
“How close?” she asked, obviously trying to play whatever part he was trying to thrust upon her.
“Inside of me?” he said brokenly. Then he laughed at the words in a twisted, ironic chuckle before he shook his head. She had no idea what he meant, nor could he explain it to her. His desperation would always be left unmet and unsatisfied now.
“You can come inside of me, darling,” she breathed, giving him her seductive, doe eyes.
He smiled, and fingered the side of her mouth, then used his fingers to part her lips and again he kissed her, devouring her with his mouth.
She arched against him, groaning, and he pulled her against him, pressing. “Closer,” he breathed into her mouth.
Her seductive role play started to slip a little, and once again she looked like she might need to run. “This is as close as I can do, bab- darling…”
There was a pause and something flickered in Tundra’s eyes; the shift… the change. The moment that he went from thought to action. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, biting her shoulder.
Then he lifted a hand, and formed a large, pointed icicle, and wielding it like a knife, he plunged into her, piercing her skin just below her left breast. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone, and felt the tip of the knife as it broke her heart open. “You broke my heart,” he cried, tears streaming down his face. He twisted the knife, rage now filling his expression. “You broke my heart with that psychopath who called me his brother and then you died…” he raged. The woman in his arms was unable to speak, her lips parted, her eyes locked in a horrific stare as she realized what was happening to her. She gurgled, and blood sputtered from between her red lips. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.” He shook as he removed the blade and plunged it into her heart again. Then he held her body against him as he felt the life leave her. “Goodbye,” he whispered. “Goodbye… I love you.” He clung to her tightly, as her body went entirely limp; she’d stopped trying to cling to life and now lay dead in his arms.
He looked around at the mess he’d made, the blood, the beautiful red painting the bed and their skin as it stuck together.
For a moment, he drew her against him and tried to push her inside of him… that wouldn’t work. She couldn’t do that and she was dead now. The realization still hadn’t entirely hit him; what he’d done and how bad this was.
He pressed her against him again, holding tightly, and smashed her into his chest in a paled attempt at pushing her into his body as his mind fought itself. She couldn’t do this- but maybe she could. But she couldn’t! She was dead now. But she could if he just tried hard enough. He knew that he was insane, but he couldn’t stop the train of thought.
Somehow, a little of the anxiety alleviated as blood continued to pour from her, bathing him.
He sat back on the mattress on his knees, taking her with him. “Be a good girl, Marielle,” he whispered. “Just a little.” She couldn’t. How could he make her! “I need- I need you,” he pleaded.
He swallowed, waiting. “Nothing… of course nothing, she’s dead, stupid!” He scratched his head, then pulled his hand away looking at the blood caked there, now in his hair. He’d have to shower. He’d have to run. The confusion and the war obvious on his face. What had he done? What could he do?
He lifted a hand, watching it frost over. He could freeze her. Yeah. That’s what he’d do. He’d freeze her. She’d be easier to transport and the bleeding would stop… That’s how they preserved things, right? Ice? He’d have to freeze her first if he didn’t want to get caught.
How could he get her inside of him, though? Ice- it kept things from growing bacteria.
Things like meat…
***
After a moment, both Marielle and Hazal opened their mouths and cried out together – as if they were one – in fear and torment. This lasted for a few moments before Hazal removed her hands, and shook her head; silent tears streaming down both of their faces. She reached out and drew Marielle to her, holding her tightly. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so, so sorry.” Marielle sobbed into Hazal’s shoulder as she felt the fear that she had been experiencing slowly alleviate. “Let us see what Nightmare does with it,” she whispered, and she held onto Marielle for a long while.
Marielle lost herself for a few minutes as she sobbed in Hazal’s arms. The other woman’s tears fell into her hair. Marielle didn’t know what this meant for their relationship as friends, but she was grateful as she felt relief from the intense fear.
Both staggered back down to the kitchen for some water, utterly spent from the ordeal. Hazal forced a sad smile at Marielle. “I will try and rest. I won’t be able to, but I must try,” she explained excusing herself with a small bow.
Marielle followed after her, grabbed her wrist, and when Hazal turned to her, Marielle threw her arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I feel better.”
Hazal took in a deep breath and held her back…her friend.
***
“Tala will need some of this as well. Still, it’s nice to know you’re exactly as much of a prick as I thought you were,” Erik chided.
When Erik left, Austin was alone and he instinctively reached out for Marielle, finding that she wasn’t there.
That was when a familiar itch began to creep up his arm and spread across his chest and down into his body, filling him with an intense, insatiable need. He recognized this demon immediately, and knew it well.
-Marielle? Nothing.
He clicked around on his computer, closing windows from the files that he’d worked on for Erik. Then he paused, stroking his bottom lip for a moment in thought and glancing at his office door. It was closed, but not locked, and if she came back, she’d be able to hear him if she tried and if he went too deeply, here.
He was trying to resist, but as his hand began to tremble, the need was becoming too great. He opened a search engine and started putting familiar searches in, then deleting them as he attempted to mentally slay the dragon. Then he started again, and then deleted them. He finally hit the search button knowing exactly what he was doing with surrogacy… dark hair, green eyes, small frame.
The computer thought, and then gave him the instant access that he wanted to hundreds of beautiful look-alikes. He took in a deep breath and closed it all, shaking.
No, no, no, Austin don’t do this.
He tried reaching out again. –Marielle? Marielle? I just want to talk.
He exhaled. No, I don’t. I just want to coax you back into where we were ten hours ago even if only a little so I can be high as a kite again and stop feeling this way. I want to be with you, and hold you, and touch you, and kiss your mouth, and feel your tongue, and see your breasts again.
He stood away from his computer like it was on fire and started to pace. “How do I do this? How do I do this? Where are you, darling?” He shook his head. “Not darling,” he corrected himself. “Marielle. Marielle, are you not in your office? Where are you?” He started to feel the pit of his stomach open up with concern. Was she okay? What if she needed him? What if she were in danger? Suddenly, he couldn’t find air.
Beginning to pace, he took in several deep breaths before leaning against his door, his hand over his heart. His heart; he wished that she would have crushed it when she held it in her hands that day. He chuckled, ironically. She had, hadn’t she?
He forced himself to still his breathing. “I can beat this,” he whispered. “I can beat this… I just have to do something else.” He quickly left the office. He had time before he had to talk to Mateo anyways; an hour at least.
He found himself in the big training room, which seemed to echo with the voices and feelings from a few weeks ago when they had all been pushed to their limits by Vincent.
Lifting his voice, he started a session up and as his eyes rimmed with tears, he slaughtered and killed each and every bot with his game pistol long before it got anywhere near him. Then, breathing deeply, and taking a minute to let his heart calm, he reloaded the game and did it again. As the last bot came lumbering toward him, he let out a fierce, rage filled growl through clenched teeth as he put several bullets through its head before it ever got close.
He dropped his arm, breathing hard, and somewhere between insanity and being irate, a little chuckle emerged as he wandered to the wall, and slid down it, holding himself around the middle as he put his face to his knees. He felt weak, and small, and he wanted nothing more than to get back to his office, sit at his desk, search up some momentarily satisfying trash and use it to relieve the swirling and twisting occurring in the middle of his stomach.
He started to stand, maybe to do just this when he stopped dead in his tracks. Marielle was there, slowly walking toward him with her own game gun.
She stopped about ten feet from him and they both simply stared at one another. Strangely, nothing passed between them mentally, neither did actual vocalized words. This was the first time that they’d seen one another or looked into each other’s eyes since sometime last night. She’d fallen asleep long before he had, and when he’d left, she was still mostly out.
He had to leave quickly, or he knew that he’d be risking trying to force her to stay.
They both took one another in. It was obvious that both had spent a lot of time crying. His gorgeous blue eyes seemed bluer, as they were rimmed with red and irritation. Hers weren’t much different. He was in his gray suit with black shirt and tie, and he looked so handsome that she wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around his neck.
She was in black jeans, her boots, and a jade-colored t-shirt. There was no more red; no more lipstick. His gaze momentarily flicked to the inside of her wrist, where not fifteen hours ago, his name had been etched into her creamy white skin.
They both breathed in and let it out slowly; their link didn’t seem to be connecting mentally and it was making Austin nervous. Was she just quieting her thoughts? That seemed likely given several things, none of which he had any real understanding of. Still, even her presence seemed to give him a little bit of relief from the intense anxiety that was threatening to eat him alive.
She took a few more steps toward him, but stopped short. Internally, her reasoning was because she was starting to be able to smell him; her favorite scent on the planet, and in her mind if she could smell him, maybe she was too close.
She glanced around the room, and spoke upwards to the listening A.I. “Reset?” The bots all got up and went back into hiding. Her eyes found Autin’s again. “Let’s go again?” she asked.
He felt like it was a loaded question. Yes, again, Marielle. Again and again and again forever.
He didn’t say or even press this thought into her, he simply nodded, once.
They stood, back-to-back. “You get the right; I’ll take the left?” She asked.
He paused. All that he said was, “yeah.”
Then they were attacked from all sides, and each of them worked together, used their abilities and what they knew of each other to utterly demolish all of their attackers in a matter of moments without either of them saying a word to one another or inside of their heads.
Shaking as the adrenaline left his body, he froze and looked down. “They’re sending a new handler here… for me.” He sighed. “Yes, Liam, Wei Ling, and Sabine know.”
“Because Barbara’s… gone?”
He nodded. “They want me back on training again, too. Means drinking raw eggs, five mile runs at four in the morning, weights, and time with a trainer a few times a week.”
“Sounds very nineteen seventies boxer…” Austin chuckled silently. He understood the reference, and it reminded him of all the reasons that he loved her. “For China?” he nodded. “You said over the… you said that it’d be harder to find you.” She cocked her head. “Won’t you be Joe Bargs?”
“They’re renaming me,” he said quietly, glancing at her wrist. “I can’t tell you the new one.”
“Why aren’t they having you come back to New York for training?”
“I’m still on assignment here.”
She sighed and nodded as she glanced down at their hands, they were so close that all she’d have to do is lift a finger to touch him. He knew; he saw it. He could feel her heat radiating off her skin and he felt his fingertips flex with the need to touch her. He wanted to tell her to touch him; he didn’t. They said nothing else. “It was a good game,” she whispered and she left him alone again where he sat against the wall once more for a good ten minutes.
Now what.