amour plastique

apparently, taking care of it meant becoming the new team lead. 

imagine her surprise when introductions were being passed around, all attempts to keep a straight face hidden behind her coffee cup. still, he kept his word, and once again, he’s playing the role of mentor, helping her when she needs it most. “they won’t ever,” she replies firmly, out of both determination and fear. “i'm glad you're here, though. i mean, i don’t even know what i’m doing.” she gives a small laugh, slumping down in her chair. this path might just lead to the edge of a cliff, and she should be careful not to fall. “you know it, too. this is bigger than anything i've done before.”

“      don't   doubt   yourself.      not   even   i,      the   team      ...      we   had      ...      have   faith   in   you.      you   know   that,      ”      the   slight   nod   follows   a   knowing   look,      inching   forwards   for   a   moment   to   grab   a   few   stacks   of   paper   scattered   about   the   surface.      time   is   of   the   essence,      and   while   they've   both   had   their   fair   share   of   toppling   down   corruption      —      it   was   never   quite   at   the   scale   they   were   diving   head   first   into.      “      tell   me   everything   you   know   so   far   first.      we   can   start   from   there,      ”

“four minutes,” isaac presses his lips into a thin smile, placing the two cups of coffee in his hands onto his desk. ( and just why did his desk have to be so close to val’s office? )

“and i guess if we’re all being very technical, anyone under buchanan is replaceable. right?”

jj’s tirade is comforting, even if it’s one she’s heard a thousand times before. ( it’s not bad advice either—shame, then, that she’s not exactly following it. ) warmth fills her as they slip into their usual, easy exchange, the extended olive branch working its magic. not that the two would’ve been able to be mad at each other for long—no matter what comes between them, they’ll always find their way back to each other. “so, bad time to say he showed up at, like, 5 am?” she asks sheepishly, cheek still resting in her palm. “now, look, hear me out—” posture straightens, her hands now up in a gesture of feigned protest. “he was really hurt, and i couldn’t just leave him alone. you know i would never. and i don’t know what i’m gonna do yet, but we…talked a lot.” she sighs, leaning back in her seat. “anyway, abba concert, big yes—” 

there's   no   denying   that   they've   never   been   the   friendliest   sort.      especially   not   to   those   they've   always   suspected   to   be   a   little   too   good   to   be   true      ...      stepping   right   out   of   nowhere   and   telling   odessa   everything   she   wants   to   hear.      of   course,      she's   plenty   clever   enough   to   see   right   through   any   bullshit   but   still      :      no   one   is   immune   once   they've   gotten   comfortable   with   rose-tinted   glasses.      “      you   could.      yes,      you   could.      and   that's   exactly   what   you   should've   done,      god      ...      now   he   probably   thinks   like,      you   two   are   back   together   or   something      !!      ”      glass-cut   hands   circle   their   face   and   drags   down   as   a   groan   lifts,      already   dreading   where   this   unannouned   reunion   could   possibly   be   heading.      “      fuck   him,      and   his   tortured   artist,      indie   boy   bullshit.      the   smiths   are   a   red   flag,      des.      you   know   this,      ”      people   don't   change,      and   especially   not   people   like   him,      they're   sure   of   it.

Paperwork. The unforeseen tragedy of the Deputy Officer title. It’s late, and most of the personnel have retired for the night, leaving the facility quiet, and prone to echo. Tired blue eyes flicker back and forth across the screen, deciphering an encrypted update from the Kronos’ AI department. A dull headache threatens the base of her skull, and Eve is moment’s away from calling it a night when she hears a knock at the door. 

It doesn’t take much to imagine who it might be.

“Well, come in.”

they’re just pulling up emmy’s name on their phone when they hear him speak again, and their hands still. focus on something else, they remind themself, a dull ache in their heart as they remember eamon probably knows exactly what they’re thinking. care, he says. they’re not sure they believe him. 

“… you kind of have to,” they mutter, still staring down at their phone. “it’s your job — caring for us. making sure we don’t die. so.” 

“you’re just as likely to go,” she points out with none of the levity of before. they both know the risks that come with the job, their own mortality reflected back at them each time they take to the streets. she knows, too, how easy it is to take someone’s life, her brother’s face flashing in her mind. whether she’s chasing death or running away from it, she can’t be sure, but what other way does she know how to live? “can’t have you dying on me, either.” she doesn’t even want to consider it, the thought of losing him carving an ache in her chest. 

“as if you would. your little pr team would have a field day.” deflection wielded expertly, his insinuation of a proposal garners a roll of her eyes, though the weight of his gaze nearly makes her flinch. permanence is a concept unknown to her; everything has a time limit. sebastian has yet to prove to be the exception. ( hope, too, is a fragile thing. ) “or were you planning on eloping instead?” 

she hums in response to his reminiscing, a slanted smile drifting across her features. “we held up then, though, didn’t we?” so in sync, it was as if they were always meant to fight besides one another. a pity, then, that the odds are stacked against them, an invisible thread pulling her back from falling wholly and completely.

“      you   know   i   don't   care   about   what   they   think,      ”      not   if   it   means   i   get   to   wake   up   next   to   you   for   the   rest   of   my   life.      his   one   fantasy   that   he   probably   will   never   becomes   his   reality.      “      it   doesn't   matter   for   me   but   don't   you   want   a   wedding      ?      cliffside   at   sunset.      or   maybe   on   top   of   the   building   where   we   first   met.      just   the   two   of   us,      ”      there's   no   need   for   fanfare   when   he   would   be   marrying   the   one   love   of   his   life.      she's   everything   he's   ever   really   needed,      even   while   undeserving.      “      we   made   it   out   alive,      at   least.      i   just   hope   one   day   you   won't   have   to   kill   me,      ”      the   joke   in   his   words   ring   an   essence   of   truth   as   his   hues   continues   to   stay   on   her   wounds,      now   almost   completely   secured   by   the   bandages.      “      it's   like   that   song,      yeah      ?      super   old   one.      to   die   by   your   side      ...      es   una   forma   tan   celestial   de   morir,      ”

much   like   how   she   barrelled   into   his   life   all   those   years   ago,      the   knowing   smile   that   curls   up   his   brims   comes   without   warning.      he   knows   protests   would   be   futile   as   he   immediately   makes   work   to   unbutton   the   sullied   dress   shirt   for   suzume   to   catch   a   glimpse   of   his   wounds.      they   aren't   alarming,      but   could   be   if   left   unattended.      “      i   fancy   you   much   more   than   my   doctors   anyway,      ”

unbelieveable. yet there's a remembered rhythm she falls into as she bursts into a flurry of activity, pushing him towards her dining table and pointing for him to take a seat. the sight of her in an oversized shirt, retrieving a first aid kit from her cabinet should be a familiar one—it’s not the first time he’s showed up suddenly, injured from a fight she doesn’t know the details of. ( at least this time, she’s somewhat aware. ) nostalgia washes over her, and she shakes her head at the memory. pulling up a chair directly across from him, she sets out a bottle of disinfectant and a couple gauze pads before unwrapping the bandages. “it’s gonna sting,” she mutters as she presses soaked cloth to wound, briefly bringing her gaze back up to his. “well, we’ve got time. don’t skip a thing.”

despite   the   sting,      expression   remains   neutral      —      features   fixed   on   the   flat   purse   of   his   lips   and   the   ocassional   sigh   that   fills   the   silence   between   his   words.      sometimes   the   silence   speaks   for   itself.      “      m'powers   didn't   come   like   everyone   else's.      didn't   show   up   naturally   or   anythin'.      they   had   to      ...      force   it   out   of   me,      so   i   was   sent   to   russia,      ”      all   he   can   remember   was   piercing   wind   and   white   stretching   as   far   as   the   eye   can   see.      the   bible   said   that   hell   is   drenched   in   fire,      but   his   was   frozen   in   ice.      “      they   specialised   in   trainin'   soldiers   so   you'd   reckon   that   they   wouldn't   send   me,      an   eight   year   old,      there   but      ...      they   wanted   me   to   carry   on   their   work.      legacy.      whatever   it   is.      so   i   did,      ”      he   took   a   second   to   swallow   as   he   streches   out   his   hand   further   to   ease   her.      “      i   was   there   for   almost   ten   years.      they   did   everything   they   could   to   break   me   in   and   fuck,      did   they   do   absolutely   everything      ...      until   my   powers   came,      and,      'kinda   like   those   twins      —      ”      the   most   honest   truths   are   always   the   hardest.      “      i   drove   my   doctor   crazy   until   he      ...      jumped   off   the   building,      ”

"T-This isn't― I was just leaving," he stammers. Panicked eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at their face. Fuck. He fucked up. Suzu should've been here, she'd know what to do. The tense silence stretches on as Jax desperately racks his brain for an excuse, a lie, anything to say. A futile endeavor. "You're ―- you're, uhm, up late," he finishes weakly, paling, bracing for the worst.

they   have   two   options      :      turn   jax   in   now   and   have   tonight's   entertainment   be   him   overriding   the   robot   security,      or      —      “      tell   me,      what   are   you   really   here   for      ?      be   honest,      ”      a   hand   rises   and   points   towards   the   cctv   lining   the   buildings   halls.      “      or   ...      i   can   scream   and   trigger   the   alarm   for   the   actual   police   to   show   up.      trust   me   when   i   say,      they'll   be   way   less   fun   to   explain   shit   to   when   you're   behind   bars   for   trespassing,      ”

isaac sighs, wincing slightly as he begins to slowly pull his jacket off of his body. “. . . okay, fine,” he concedes, “i think there’s a first aid kit somewhere in the closet. top right corner, maybe."

“      you   really   should   get   someone   to   clean   up   your   place,      can't   find   anything   in   that   clos   —      ”      one   look   is   all   it   takes.      they   would   know   that   photograph   anywhere.      the   pair   of   them   from   even   more   than   a   decade   ago,      one   of   isaac's   arms   looped   around   their   own      ...      smiling   the   widest   smile   they've   seen   in   years.      (      they   don't   even   know   if   they   can   still   smile   that   big   anymore      ).      the   other   hand   stretched   out   to   face   the   camera   to   show   off   a   matching   pair   of   daisy   rings      ...      they've   always   felt   that   their   ring   finger   was   missing   a   piece   of   itself   ever   since   isaac   left.      “      ...      you   kept   all   of   this      ?         ”

DIEGO CALVA

in the split second it takes her eyes to meet jj’s in the cafeteria, she’s not sure whether to run or stay put. indecision doesn’t suit her, and she’s about to pull out her own olive branch when jj slides the bag of takis across the table. a laugh falls from her lips as her gaze lands on the sticky note, and she plops down into the chair next to them, handing over the box of macarons from their favorite place. there’s no note attached, but it contains each of their favorite flavors. like she did, they’ll get the message. fight not wholly forgotten, but forgiveness extended on both ends, the reason for the rift is to be dealt with later. 

for   the   first   time   that   day,      a   smile   overtakes   their   features.      the   ice   cracks,         frost   melting   over   the   missed   companion   of   their   best   friend,      hand   reaching   out   to   sneak   a   bite   out   of   their   gifted   pack   of   favourites.      “      i   don’t   either.      some   would   maybe   even   call   him      ...      toxic      ?      crazy,      i   know,      ”   disdain   isn’t   amiss      —      odessa   has   always   known   that   they’ve   never   been   the   biggest   fan   of   he-who-must-not-be-named.      emerald   hues   roll   at   the   thought   of   the   male’s   banality      —      having   known   one   other   instance   where   another   trusted   confidante’s   heart   has   been   tossed   aside   after   trusting   him   to   take   hold.      “      good   on   you   for   telling   him   to   fuck   off.      hope   he   stays   gone   this   time.      you   can   do,      and   deserve   better,      ”      nodding   approvingly,      they   poke   at   the   top   of   her   head   to   get   her   to   lift   her   gaze   away   from   the   tabletop.   

his touch is gentle, almost startlingly so, that it’s hard to believe those same hands wield fire on a whim’s notice. solo para ti, she imagines he’d say. “yeah, yeah, i knew something was going to happen, what else do you want from me?” she lets out a small, breathless laugh, still enough to make her ribs ache. from the start, something was bound to go wrong, though she couldn’t have predicted it being of this magnitude. “the opportunity to find out more was right there. of course i had to try.” it’s a half-hearted protest, an arch jest in response to his concern. “besides, you were there. we’ve been through worse. i’ve been through worse.” 

her   admittance   earns   her   a   snort   and   a   knowing   shake   of   his   head.      she’s   always   been   the   brains   to   his   brawns      —      and   he   wouldn’t   have   it   any   other   way.      “      and   what   would   we   do   if   they   decide   to   pop   your   head   next      ?      i’ll   be   mourning   a   headless   you,      "      while   he   knows   her   powers   would   easily   triumph   over   a   couple   novices,      whatever   madness   was   displayed   as   the   new   day   broke      —      was   a   work   of   pure   madness   than   a   needless   display   of   power.      (      he   would   know.      he’s   rather   familiar   with   the   theatrics   of   the   latter,      after   all      ).      “      we   can’t   have   you   dying   before   you   let   me   put   a   ring   on   your   finger,   can   we      ?      ”      the   chuckle   that   filters   houses   only   an   ounce   of   tease,      the   gaze   that   meets   her   own   hinting   at   the   seriousness   he’s   only   ever   displayed   for   the   one   who   he   holds   most   dear.