Rose Celeste

A pale-skinned woman entered the room. Her bright white glowing irises landed on her new roommate that she didn’t know to expect. Soft purple hair swept across her face and was pulled into a bun on the right side of her head. She was covered in armour and robes, much like the woman he saw at the table with Commander Zavala. Her armour was a beautiful mix of white, purple and gold. The design made her look like a mediaeval knight. Her purple lips parted in shock.

(beautiful image of my warlock, Aurora, created by @smileyrhi717)

“Oh…” she paused as she looked at the door number to check that she hadn’t walked into the wrong room. After discovering that she was in fact in the correct room, she hesitantly closed the door and kept her gaze on the newcomer.

“I wasn’t expecting to gain a roommate,” she finally said, almost coldly as she approached her bed. Her armoured boots softly thudded across the floor as she walked.

The guardian kept his eyes on her, trying to gauge her attitude.

“I’m new to this - uh - guardian business,” he began. “I hope me being here is going to be okay?” His voice sounded slightly anxious.

The woman’s back was now facing her new roommate.

“Depends,” she replied curtly as she picked up the casual clothes.

“On what?” the guardian asked, his voice carried a less friendly tone to it.

The woman turned to face him again carrying the bundle of clothing from her bed in her arms.

“Titans are noisy and clumsy,” she said dismissively as she made her way to the ensuite, feeling slightly indignant that she could no longer change out of her armour in her room.

“Well, this one isn’t,” he retorted with a huff, but his roommate’s retaliation was simply shutting herself in the ensuite. Moments later he could hear water running. It sounded like she was having a shower and was going to be there for a while.

“Daddy!” a young girl’s voice cried out. The guardian felt her weight in his arms. He was running. Running as fast as he could. Fear and anxiousness filled his mind as he looked down at her. He was desperately trying to save her. Her eyes welled with tears as she was scared of what was happening around the two of them: people ran screaming, until they weren’t - they had faded into nothing, like they glitched and ceased to exist.

Much to the guardian’s horror, the little girl began to do the same. His heart ached as his chest felt like it had taken a devastating blow when he could no longer feel her presence. She too had vanished…

The guardian was now in a new place. He stood upon a platform glaring down at two teenagers, a boy and a girl in skin-tight full-body suits, bearing a spider motif on the front. He was angry beyond words and had just hurled a bin at the teenage boy in a fit of rage.

He was pissed at the boy specifically.

After yelling at the two, another man arrived, walking upside down on the ceiling wearing a pink dressing gown. After flipping and landing on the floor, he patted the boy on his shoulders and spoke to him. “Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel, he just looks scary - he’s got no bite.”

Things started to get a little hazy. The last thing he saw was a small hologram of a woman with strawberry-blonde hair wearing pink heart-shaped glasses. She was sassy which stirred a strange feeling of nostalgia within him. His eyes opened wide as he sat up. He was in his bed, surrounded by darkness. The first thing he heard was the soft snores of his roommate, reminding him where he was. Those strange visions were a dream. A haunting dream to say the least. He could still hear that little girl. Who was she? Why was she calling him Daddy? And the name that man spoke of… Miguel…

Later that morning, the guardian got out of bed feeling groggy and sore from the day before. His roommate had already left the room - she certainly was a mystery. He still didn’t know her name. However, with the way she treated him, he didn’t think he really wanted to know.

The books on her bedside table had caught his eye. Slowly, he ambled over and picked them up. All three of them looked and smelled old, the pages had turned brown with age. His fingers ran over the leather covers with gold-leaf for lettering. One book was titled: The Iron Lords. Another was: Rasputin - The Warmind’s Victories. And the last: Osiris - Timeline Theories.

“I bet she’s great fun to be around…” he mumbled sarcastically to himself, however his ghost fizzled into existence.

“She’s a warlock. They’re all bookworms,” it replied, “useful to have around though, for healing purposes.”

“Hmm…” the guardian hummed absentmindedly as he put the books back down how he found them. He could imagine her berating him for going through her things. Then, he turned his gaze to his companion and held out his large hand, palm-side-up. The ghost’s singular eye fixed on his hand briefly. Its moveable parts flexed slightly with curiosity.

“Sit,” he said softly but there was a slight hint of authority.

Reluctantly, his companion landed gently on the palm of the man’s hand. Its eye trained on his face.

“What are you doing, Guardian?” it asked, sounding slightly concerned.

He smirked. “Making some changes - Ghost; open your command console,” he ordered.

“Yes, Guardian,” it responded in a monotonous tone.

“Is there a setting to change your eye colour?” the man asked with intrigue.

“Yes, Guardian,” the ghost repeated.

“Good. Change it to pink,” the guardian commanded.

The blue of his companion’s eye changed to the requested colour, making his smirk grow wider. “Que maravilla (how wonderful)… Next, are there any personality settings?” He wanted to change his ghost even further.

“Yes Guardian,” it replied, still in its monotone voice.

“I want something compliant but not bland. Try upping your sass to a fairly moderate level. Can you do that?”

There was a moment's silence as if the ghost was trying to compute the request. “Done.”

“Good; much better, Lyla,” he replied, his smirk still growing.

His companion twitched slightly before floating off of his hand. Slowly, it drew close to the guardian’s face. “Lyla? You’ve given me a name?” it asked flatly.

“I refuse to call you Ghost. It’s - stupid. So I choose Lyla instead,” he cooed happily.

“Can I name you then?” the ghost asked in a sly tone. Its tetrahedral segments flexed playfully as it spoke.

The man frowned. “No,” he replied flatly. “I’ve chosen my own name.”

Lyla’s shell separated slightly in surprise. “Oh? Do tell.” Circling around her guardian, she wondered what name he was going to give himself.

“The name came to me in my dream. I think what I dreamt about were memories,” the man paused momentarily. “Someone called me Miguel, so I’m going with that.”

“Okay, Miggy it is,” the ghost replied.

The guardian double-took at the little machine with a glare. “Mig-uel!” he repeated, pronouncing each syllable more strongly.

“Nah, I prefer Miggy…” she replied cheekily. Perhaps the sass level was a little too high…

Shaking his head, Miguel decided to drop the argument. He wasn’t going to rise to it.

“What’s the plan for today then?” he huffed in a bid to change the subject.

Lyla had been rolling playfully mid-air when Miguel asked her what the agenda was. She stopped and turned to face him.

“We need to pay Amanda Holliday a visit and see if we can get a part for the ship to make it break orbit.”

Casting his mind back to the day before, he remembered the laughing blonde woman in the hangar of the Tower. A stark contrast to his cold, warlock roommate.

The hangar was once again hectic. Airships came and went, and if they weren’t flying, they were in for repair.

Miguel and Lyla passed by several mechanics using drills or blow torches as they stood under or on top of these flying machines suspended on their supports.

All they had to do to find Amanda was follow the sound of her loud, friendly voice.

The jolly blonde woman saw the new guardian approach. His new face and his height caught her attention.

“Hey there! I’m Amanda Holliday, the tower’s shipwright. Can I help you with somethin’?” Her accent sounded as though she came from Texas.

Holding out his hand, Miguel introduced himself to Amanda and also gave Lyla’s name. The shipwright’s eyes widened when she noticed the pink light on the ghost instead of the usual blue.

“How did you… do that?” she asked, her eyes flitting between the two newcomers with curiosity.

“You just ask it to,” he replied simply, feeling stunned that this was at least the tenth time someone had asked him that morning.

“Oh - well, I’m just a regular human so I don’t even have one! So, d’you need somethin or ya here to chat?”

“We’re looking for a part that will get our jump ship to break orbit. We picked one up from the Cosmodrome in Old Russia yesterday.”

“Eeesh… uhhh… I don’t think I have,” Amanada replied, scratching the back of her head. “I don’t usually have many parts from that side of the world. Sorry.”

Miguel could see that she looked pretty disappointed that she couldn’t help and noticed her eyes kept wandering up and down his big frame.

“You’re rather… tall for a titan aren’t ya? Never seen one as tall as you before.”

Lyla rolled in the air playfully. “He may be a giant but he screams major titan vibes. Underneath all that armour is pure muscle!”

“Lyla!” the guardian snapped as he watched Amanda’s face blush, her gaze locked onto his chest, abs and hips. She was probably imagining what lay underneath all that protective gear he was wearing.

Miguel’s stomach growled as he entered his room. He was delighted - not really - to see the grumpy warlock had returned. His eyes fell on her as she sat on her bed, cross-legged while slurping noodles with chopsticks. Her eyes fixed intently on the book she was reading, however, to the guardian’s surprise it was floating in front of her, held by nothing.

The temptation to ask her how she did that rose, his interest was piqued; but her now unimpressed glare at him stopped his curiosity dead in its tracks.

Lyla appeared beside him, fizzling into view. She sensed Miguel wanted to talk to her.

“Where’s the noodle place? I’m starving.”

“I think it’s near the Speaker’s place in the tower,” she answered, her movable pieces rotating as she spoke.

The sound of chopsticks clattering in an empty bowl got both of their attention. It appeared the warlock had noticed something. Getting off the bed, she ambled over to the guardian and his ghost.

“How did you do that?” the moody woman asked, her stunning white irises locked onto the little machine floating in the air. Even her own ghost fizzled into existence to have a look.

“Ay, Dios - you just ask it to!” That was now the eleventh time. “Does no one ever think about customisation settings?” Miguel sounded frustrated and his patience was wearing thin.

The warlock and her ghost looked at each other, almost stunned. Firstly by the guardian’s outburst and secondly by his answer.

“You can do that?” she asked her own ghost.

The small parts of its shell moved, imitating some kind of shrug-like gesture.

Lyla’s pink light flitted between the two warriors. “I think he’s hangry, we should probably go in search of some food.”

Brushing past the warlock, Miguel strode to the door and left the room, hiding a wince with each stride. The armour he was wearing was uncomfortable and rubbing awkwardly over his bruises and cuts.

Sunset cast a golden-orange glow over the Last City. The shadow of the tower and surrounding mountains stretched over the cramped buildings the lower the sun went.

A now recently-fed Miguel re-entered his and the warlock’s room but his mood was no better.

His gauntlets clattered loudly as he tossed them aside on his bed, disturbing his roommate from reading yet another book; this time it was in her hands and not floating. A disapproving tut clicked from her mouth as her glare fixated on the grumpy titan.

“Don’t even say it,” the guardian barked as he felt her stare burning into the back of his head.

She watched as he yanked off his chest plate, the back of his armour came away too. Large red and purple marks littered his tanned skin. Her brows furrowed slightly at the sight. The warlock stood up from her bed.

“I said - don’t even-“ His words were interrupted by a strange whooshing sound followed by a gentle hum. Spinning around to see what was going on, his eyes locked onto a bright circle of light on the floor between their beds. Slowly rising up from the perimeter were little white ember-like particles.

“What’s this?” he asked, feeling slightly bad for snapping.

“A healing rift,” the warlock simply answered.

She’s a warlock. They’re all bookworms; useful to have around though, for healing purposes. His ghost's voice from earlier echoed in his mind.

“Step in. It’ll mend those aches and pains for you.”

With a tentative step forward, Miguel felt the light touch him, cloaking him in a warm, fuzzy embrace. Looking over his arms, and perfectly defined chest, his sores and bruises started to vanish. The pain accompanying them faded away. A sigh of relief left his parted lips as he watched his body heal in awe.

Once every marking on his body had gone, the rift dissipated into nothingness. The warmth left him as if the Traveller itself had let go of him from its embrace. Okay, warlocks are cool, he thought to himself.

Awestruck red eyes peered into calm snow-white. “Thanks…”

“You’ll need better armour than that before going back out in the field again.”

The guardian grumbled slightly, annoyed at her unhelpful comment. “Well, if you can conjure up some armour too…” he began with a sarcastic response as he turned to fetch his comfortable clothes from his bed.

“Wait…” she called out after him.

Miguel stopped and turned back.

The warlock’s ghost had materialised again and projected some bizarre looking items onto her bed. Five dodecahedron shaped crystals tumbled and rolled after fizzling into existence.

“What are those?” Miguel asked in awe once again. There was still so much to learn about this world that he was in.

“Encrypted engrams,” she began to explain, “these can be decrypted by Master Rahool, a Cryptarch in the tower.” Such strange words and names... This warlock might as well be speaking in an entirely different language to him.

“Okay… but what do they do? Once they’re decrypted,” the guardian asked, his interest was piqued.

“Engrams are essentially code in a physical form. Once decrypted, they can be converted into items such as armour and weaponry.” She picked one of the bright green crystals up, gleaming as she cupped it in her palm. “I’ve collected these during missions but I have no use for them. They may be of more benefit to you?”

Taking the crystal, Miguel had a closer look. Its glow pulsed in his hand.

“And, a man here can unlock what’s inside?”

The warlock nodded her head in response. “Put your armour back on and I’ll show you.”

The tower plaza looked beautiful at night. One side of the open space looked over the Last City. Its lights blinked and twinkled in the distance. On the other side, a spire stood in the middle, with two other buildings on either side of it. Inside the spire was where the vanguard operated. Various vendor stalls stood in the middle, however they were closed for the night. On the perimeter of the plaza, underneath a dark, red velvet tent, adorned with gold embroidered symbols stood a robed man.

His skin was a light bluey-grey colour, yellow irises pierced out from underneath his white and black hood. Miguel suspected Master Rahool was part of the same race as his warlock roommate and Commander Zavala.

One by one, each encrypted engram was handed over to the cryptarch who worked on revealing the data inside. Before Miguel’s eyes, the green glowing crystals transformed into pieces of armour. Each piece was bulkier than the ones he was already wearing, offering him far better protection.

Now back in their sleeping quarters, the guardian inspected his new armour more closely while resting on his bed. “Thank you for these… uh…” he wanted to call her by her name, but was still oblivious to what it was.

“Aurora,” the purple haired warlock answered, “and you are?” 

“Miguel.”

She nodded at his response and sat down on her own bed, watching him look over his armour, built specifically for titans.

“Pretty name,” he complimented her, trying to be friendly but his words were met with a chuckle.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, guardian…”

A pink hue spread across the titan’s face, that wasn’t what he meant. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with or flatter her, he was just merely passing a positive comment. An awkward silence fell between the two. Feeling slightly responsible for killing the conversation, Aurora perked up a little and moved to sit on the edge of her bed, her feet resting on the floor.

“What’s your alignment?”

Miguel stared blankly at the warlock. Was he supposed to know what she was referring to? The purple haired woman sighed as she thought of another way of explaining things. She had forgotten this man was as dead as a dodo yesterday.

“There’s three alignments with the light gifted to us by the Traveller. Guardians can swap between them when they wish so it’s never set in stone.” She held out her hand, palm-side-up. To Miguel’s surprise, a bright purple orb grew over her hand. Stars swirled within it, then eventually elongated and disappeared into the centre. “My favoured alignment is the void, but guardians can also choose between solar and arc.”

Like a moth to flame, the titan got off of his bed and ambled over. His gaze fixated on the beautiful orb of dancing stars. Raising his hand tentatively, he considered touching it. But as his fingers drew nearer to the orb, he felt a pulling sensation. It was when he thought his hand was being stretched, like it was sucked or pulled towards the orb that he pulled it away quickly. Aurora’s open palm closed, and with that, the stunning purple entity vanished.

“I can do something like that?” he asked, sounding slightly in disbelief. “How do I know what my alignment is?” The guardian’s mind was abuzz with questions.

The warlock nodded her head to answer his first question and promptly stood up to face him.

“Let’s find out - just don’t destroy the room in the process, okay?”

Miguel’s brow furrowed as he frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “And how are we going to find out?” He couldn’t deny that he was curious to learn more.

With a straight, no nonsense expression, Aurora replied. “I’m going to provoke you. And when you feel like retaliating, I’m sure you’ll know by then.”

This all sounded very interesting. He couldn’t help but smirk for a moment. The thought of a small warlock trying to provoke him almost seemed comical. “Alright, we can give it a go.”

Without warning, the purple haired woman vanished in a blink of an eye. What the? The titan’s eyes widened in surprise before he got shoved hard from behind. Spinning around on the spot, he caught a glimpse of her just as she disappeared once more. 

Another shove came from Aurora in a different direction.

Frustration began to build within Miguel, all he could do was watch helplessly as she blinked in and out of existence. He made a mental note not to underestimate other guardians, size clearly isn’t everything.

On the odd occasion when he spotted her face, he could see her wearing a dark expression, one side of her mouth curled up into what looked like a cruel smirk. Perhaps she enjoyed playing games with him.

The abrupt shoves kept coming, between lightning fast blinks. The titan was locked in an awkward dance of being thrown left, right, back and forth. A low growl rumbled within his chest. The provocation was starting to work.

Miguel could take no more. As he clenched his fist, the room lit up with a brilliant electric-blue. A loud grunt filled the air as he swung for the irritating guardian. The hairs on his head began to stand on end as Aurora ducked away. To his surprise, his fist represented a tight ball of electricity. He froze as he watched the electric energy fizzle away.

“Holy shit...” his voice was barely above a whisper as he stared at his hand.

A pale hand reached out and seized his. The warlock wasn’t fussed by the electricity that surrounded his fist just a moment ago. Her attention was fixed on the talons that were now protruding from his fingertips.

“What are these?” she mused as her hands inspected each of his fingers, even gave a claw a quick prod to see how sharp they were. “Ow!”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “What did you expect?”

Before things got weird by holding his hands too long, Aurora relinquished them. “That’s not normal human behaviour,” she looked up at him in a half-intrigued, half-scrutinising manner. “What are you?”

White eyes roamed over his face, taking in every detail before she forgot herself and started physically inspecting his features.

Elegant but strong hands more-or-less manhandled him—

“Hey! Cut that out!” Miguel began as he tried to pull her hands away, but she swatted at him before continuing running her thumbs across his cheekbones - a rather forward gesture, he thought.

“You have red eyes which isn’t a typical genetic outcome, but everything else about you is… positively human…” the warlock took her hands away, much to his relief.

“Still working out a few things,” the titan retorted. “In case you didn’t know, I was brought back to life yesterday and still have questions of my own that need answering.”

A sympathetic look flashed across Aurora’s pale features. She could remember the time she was found and resurrected by her ghost.

As a warlock, she spent her free time reading up on things, doing research to answer questions that her ghost or anyone in the tower couldn’t answer.

She stood back and took a seat on the edge of her bed and she gestured for him to do the same. “Ask away. What do you want to know?”

Where to start? He thought to himself as he perched his towering form on his bed, totally forgetting that he is sitting with just his lower armour on. His now bruise-free chest out on full display - not that Aurora noticed either.

“Okay; so, ‘arc’, I’m guessing?” he gestured with his clenched fist. That was what he and Aurora were trying to discover before she caught sight of his ‘non-human’ claws.

Aurora nodded. “Yes, you seem to be aligned with arc currently. But over time, you will discover the different energies that your light can provide,” she answered.

“And your alignment is void, right?” Miguel asked, thinking about the purple ball that hovered over her palm.

“Void is an interesting energy, it can devour whatever is nearby. Maybe similar to that of a black hole, perhaps?” She offered a method for him to understand. “Void titans are typically defenders. They can generate a defensive bubble that protects all that stands inside. Very useful on missions.”

Miguel nodded as he listened. Finally, some useful information was being fed to him. “And, solar?” he probed further.

“Fire, essentially. Or fires that burn as hot as the sun,” Aurora answered. “Solar titans wield a flaming hammer. Just the sound of it can reduce an enemy to a quaking, shivering mess.”

It took a fair bit of control for Miguel not to guffaw with the idea of running amok with a flaming hammer in hand, so an intrigued smirk grew across his lips instead.

“You make titans sound intimidating,” he commented, perhaps his ego was starting to feel lucky and excited over being part of a discipline that seemed fearsome.

Aurora shrugged. “Titans can be. They certainly provide more brawn than the others.”

“Others?” Miguel raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he leaned back against his hands on his bed and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “So there’s other disciplines than titans and warlocks?”

“There are hunters, too. And each of us brings something unique to the table. Titans aren’t the only intimidating class.”

His ego deflated slightly.

“Titans may be big and can take more damage, but they are slow and loud due to their heavy weight. 

“Warlocks are the middle class, faster and lighter. While titans can offer help with offence and defence, warlocks can heal and empower.

“And Hunters are the fastest and quietest. Stealth is their forte, sneaking past those defences and destroying from the inside.”

Miguel wasn’t too sure if her explanation wasn’t a way to dunk on him after she built him up explaining about titan abilities. But at least he managed to learn more from her about the people he had unexpectedly been surrounded by after yesterday’s events.

“And, what are you, exactly?” he asked, seeing as she was so forward with him earlier. At least he wasn’t poking and prodding her…

It seemed as though Aurora knew this question was coming at some point and didn’t look offended. “There are two other races that have been chosen by the Traveller and gifted the light by it: the Awoken,” she pointed to herself, “and Exo - a kind of humanoid-cyborg invented by Clovis Bray and his company ‘Bray-Tech’.”

Miguel was now fascinated and fully invested. He ended up having yet even more questions when his previous ones were answered, but it was interesting information to learn. “What are the Awoken, then? Aside from the different skin-tones and eye colours, you seem mostly human.”

Aurora hadn’t moved much after sitting on the edge of her bed, she sat up straight, knees pinned together and hands resting on her lap, holding the other. “We are essentially a more evolved species of humanity. My understanding is, the original Awoken were born as a result of human colonies leaving earth getting caught in some kind of space storm.

“Not all Awoken are guardians. The ones in the Reef are ruled by their queen, Mara Sov. I don’t answer to her, however, my calling as a guardian takes priority.”

Queens, space colonies, this was such a diverse story, and yet he felt he was merely scratching the surface.

“And, Exos? You mentioned a company called Bray-Tech?”

Aurora nodded again. “A long time ago, a brilliant inventor named Clovis Bray started a new form of life.

“Human intelligence could be downloaded into a unit. They act like humans, communicate like them too, but they are just robots.”

Miguel still had many questions, but it looked as though Aurora was in need of some sleep.

With a new set of armour, Miguel should probably be ready to enter the fray again tomorrow and return to the Cosmodrome. Perhaps some sleep would do him some good too.

At least he no longer seemed quite so deep in the darkness of ignorance.

In the privacy of the bathroom, Miguel clambered himself out of the remainder of his armour and slipped into something more comfortable.

Reentering the shared bedroom, Aurora was already in bed, her back was facing him. Her purple hair that was usually in a bun cascaded freely over her pillow.

She was not that bad, he thought to himself, his expression softened slightly as he observed her sleeping peacefully.

Eventually, he too got into bed and turned out the light.

I hope you enjoyed the third chapter of this fic. I will post up part 4 once it is out of early access on Patreon.

Find part 4 on Patreon here >

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Flying fast over snow-covered peaks and through storm clouds as lightning leaped between them, the Last City finally came into view.

There was an awkward silence in the cockpit the entire time while the guardian stared idly out of the window as the ghost took control of the ship. Countless questions circled his mind. There was so much to process. It was a struggle to know where to begin.

Looking at the Last City, even more questions filled his mind. Eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.

A tower stood at the edge of a city; dwarfing almost everything inside the large defence walls that protected its civilians. It was a wide building that had almost constant airship traffic. Some coming in to land, others leaving and blasting off into space.

The only other thing that was bigger than the tower was what pushed a more urgent question to the front of his mind.

“What the hell is that?!” he asked, his voice finally breaking the long silence in the cockpit of the ship. Shocked eyes were locked onto the thing in question. A giant white sphere loomed over the city. However, something within him knew it wasn’t a threat. He felt at peace in its presence.

“That is the Traveller, Guardian,” the ghost began to explain. “The very thing responsible for my existence, and your second chance in life.”

As one question was answered, even more filled his mind. His hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose to ease some tension, but his index finger and thumb bonked into the helmet he forgot he was wearing. There was an indignant sigh followed by a dull thud as the guardian leaned his head against his seat in the airship’s cockpit.

The Tower’s hangar was bustling with activity. Airships coming and going. Large pallets loaded with supplies being driven around to be stored away. A jovial woman with short blonde hair laughed loudly as she patted a man wearing overalls on his back. She wore a black sleeveless shirt, black trousers with big pockets and a large, red neckerchief. Her arms were covered in tattoos and her hands wore brown gloves. She carried a spanner in her other hand. Her goggles caught the light and gleamed brightly, catching the newcomer's eye. Triggering a strange memory, or image in his mind of a man with reddish-brown hair, a cheeky face and mechanic goggles strapped to his head. His heart pounded at the thought.

The companion noticed its guardian’s attention was drawn to the woman. “That’s Amanda Holliday. She’s the Tower’s shipwright. If you want to get an upgrade for your ship or sparrow, she’s your girl,” it explained. “Actually, we should speak to her at some point. But first, I need to take you to Commander Zavala.”

In a quieter, less busy part of the Tower, a grand table sat in the middle of a large room. A wide window at the other end overlooked rolling hills leading up into tall, rocky mountains. People and robots stood at screens or walked around with tablets, monitoring many of the tower’s systems.

Around the large table were three people who stood out from the rest. One was a bald woman dressed in long purple robes. She stood tall, in a relaxed manner, her arms behind her back as she faced away from the room’s entrance.

On the left-hand side of the table was someone with a cloak draped over them and their hood was up. They casually flipped their blade as if they were bored and wanted to pass the time.

At the far end was a heavily armoured man, leaning on the table with both of his hands. His skin was a pale grey colour and there were shimmering blue highlights running down the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. The armour he wore was bulky, designed to provide heavy protection. He looked up as the new guardian and his companion approached.

“Greetings, Guardian - welcome to the Tower.” He stood up tall as he spoke in a deep but warm voice.

The newcomer stood in silence as he was still processing everything. He was thankful his ghost was doing all the talking.

“Commander; we have arrived from the Cosmodrome in Old Russia. It’s concerning to see just how much of it is Fallen territory now.”

The heavily armoured man nodded silently as he listened. “I would like you to return at your earliest convenience. See if you can loosen their grip there.” The authoritative man began. “But first you should rest up, get better equipment and understand the role you now play here and for humanity.”

“Thank you,” the ghost spoke softly and with gratitude, while the guardian felt rather indignant. He didn’t ask for any of this. Earlier today he was dead, resting in some semblance of peace; and now, thrown into the deep end of a war for humankind’s survival.

The commander nodded as he tapped on a tablet screen. “I’ve assigned you a room for your sleeping quarters. You’ll have a roommate who’ll help you settle in, I'd expect.” His eyes wandered over the newcomer, taking in his build. “Do you know your discipline, Guardian?”

His patience was growing thin. “I don’t know what the fu-”

“Titan, Commander,” the companion interjected. “With his build and strength, Titan is the best bet.”

The guardian glared at his ghost through his helmet. None of this made sense to him and no one seemed to be forthcoming with an explanation.

A small smile formed on Commander Zavala’s face. “Very well. I’m the Titan Vanguard. I’m pleased to welcome you to my team of valiant, hard working people.” He gave a nod to the newcomer. “I’ve sent your ghost the details of your quarters.” The Titan Vanguard then turned towards the table and joined the other two in their work.

The Guardian’s sleeping quarters were small and simple. There were two single beds on opposite ends of the room. His roommate was out when he arrived. Their clothes were folded neatly on their pillow and there was a pile of books next to the bed.

On the way to the room, the newcomer was given a basic t-shirt and sweatpants for comfortable clothing when in his room. He couldn’t wait to get his armour off.

“So, are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” he grumbled to his ghost as he explored the room and found the ensuite, which was also basic. The guardian was pleased to find a mirror. With no idea who he was before he died, he also had no clue as to what he looked like.

“Yes, I guess I should explain a few things,” his companion replied sheepishly, its singular eye dipping low as if it was feeling slightly shameful.

While staring into the mirror, the weary man’s hands clasped around the base of his helmet and lifted it away. Before him in the mirror's reflection was a man with dark tanned skin, red eyes and messy dark brown hair which was stuck to the sides of his face from having the helmet on all day. His fingers ran slowly over his pronounced cheekbones.

“I’m listening…” he prompted his ghost as he began to find a way to unclip his shoulder pads.

The floating machine gave a contemplative sigh as if it was trying to work out where to begin. “Several hundred years ago, humanity found the Traveller had entered their solar system and settled near Mars. There was much excitement for humanity, a clear answer to the age-old question of whether they were alone in the universe…” It started as it watched the guardian remove more of his armour. A pile of padding gathered on the counter next to the sink.

“The United States of America, Russia and China sent an astronaut, cosmonaut and a taikonaut to Mars to investigate this strange anomaly hovering over the red planet. Upon their arrival, they were greeted with rain, which everyone knew back then wasn’t possible. They discovered that the Traveller had the power to terraform planets that were in its vicinity.”

The nearly naked man watched his ghost talk to him through the mirror’s reflection. He listened while his eyes glanced over his chest, arms and back occasionally, spotting several deep purple bruises.

“In the coming years, the Traveller relocated to Earth, beginning humanity’s Golden Age. With its power, the average human’s lifespan tripled. It was the dawn of new, exciting technology. Wars between nations stopped as every leader understood there was something far greater to achieve; colonising other planets and expanding the footprint of the human race across the universe.”

As the guardian listened, he began to put on his grey t-shirt. The material was stretched comfortably around his well defined muscles.

“Unfortunately, the Golden Age was brought to an end, beginning what is known as the ‘Collapse’. A warmind that was brought to life during the Golden Age detected an oncoming threat. The defence system that humanity called Rasputin understood the sheer power of what was coming. Power that rivalled the Traveller. The power we now refer to as the Darkness.”

The almost fully clothed man, now hopped about as he tried to get into his sweatpants. His legs were also covered in bruises and scorch marks from where he got hit.

“The Traveller successfully pushed the Darkness away and defended humanity from total annihilation. But it came at a heavy cost. The Traveller was weakened, and in its final moments, ghosts like me were born. A product of the Traveller’s light. We were tasked to search those who had long been dead and breathe life into them once more, if we deemed them capable and worthy to be guardian’s of humanity. Heroes who wield the Traveller’s light to defend Earth and humankind from the Darkness and other threats that have presented themselves since the Traveller came to this planet.”

That was a heavy story, the guardian thought to himself as he started to gather his armour in his arms. “And that’s what I am?” he paused as he picked up the final piece. “A hero?” he asked with a dubious smirk, stepping into the bedroom. But before the companion could answer, a piece of armour clipped the doorframe, disrupting the pile in his arms. A loud clattering sound filled the room as everything dropped onto the tiled flooring. The man double-took at his hands while the ghost gasped at the sight of his fingertips, sharp and deadly claws protruded from them. The sudden noise and his jumpiness must have caused them to unsheath.

“That’s new. I’ve never known a guardian to do that before,” the companion commented with intrigue before looking back up at the shocked man’s face. “That’s not a human thing…”

“No shit…” Crouching down, the guardian began to collect his things again, while his claws slowly retracted now that his shock had died down.

“So… Titans-” he began as he stood up but he was interrupted as the door to his room opened. His roommate had returned…

I hope you enjoyed the second chapter of this fic.

Next chapter >

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Howling, bone-chilling winds blew through the air. The sun was setting on what looked like a post-apocalyptic landscape. An endless sea of decaying, rusting cars left abandoned several hundreds of years ago. Bushes and trees had grown through the cracks of tarmac, swaying dramatically by the influence of the strong winds. One would assume it was a peaceful place, given the deserted appearance, however this area was home to something alien, and had been for centuries.

Large ships swooped in and out of the area, transporting the alien species and their collection of loot. Loot being scraps of machines, metal, and any kind of gadget they could use to upgrade their weaponry, armour and even themselves.

Amongst the sickly-orange and rusty cars, a tiny white object drifted between the warped hunks of metal, searching for something. Its central core, resembling an eye for the little machine, scanned places here and there as it continued its search.

Surrounding the eye was its shell, which consisted of several pieces that could detach and rotate freely around its central sphere.

The tiny white object scanned the contents of one of the cars. Inside it lay the bones of a human who had been long dead. A large hole in its skull as the remains lay slumped over the passenger seat.

“Ouch,” a feminine but mechanical voice rang out from the floating device before flying off; it had lost interest after the results of its scan.

Off in the distance, a squad of three aliens on a scouting mission spotted the tiny white speck, swooping from car wreckage to car wreckage.

Nestled amongst a large patch of foliage, more human remains lay undisturbed for centuries. The little machine almost flew right over it, but something caught its eye, like it could read something from it. It began to scan the collection of bones - long thin blue lines probe the remains as it scanned. All eight of its tetrahedral segments separate from its core almost like it was in shock. They reattached as it drew closer to the object it was inspecting.

“Is it possible?” the device spoke again, unsure whether to believe what it was seeing. It waited a few more seconds before it was absolutely sure.

“There you are.” The shell completely came apart as a ball of blue light emanated from its core.

It maintained its focus on the human remains. The white segments circle around the eye wider before drawing completely closed and a bright flash of light erupted from it.

What lay as human remains was now an actual full body of a tall, muscular man. His large frame was covered in armour, even his face was obscured from the floating device by a helmet. The resurrected man began to stir as he heard someone, or something talk to him for the first time in a very long while.

“Guardian… Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian!” the feminine mechanical voice snapped in an attempt to rouse the man quicker. His head lazily turned as he groaned slightly. His vision was blurry after he opened his eyes after being dead for so long.

“It worked… You’re alive!” the little machine cheered, almost in disbelief. Its tiny blue eye remained fixed on the man. “You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you.”

The man grunted as he tried to get up, his body felt stiff as a board after lying there for so long.

“What are you?” he began to ask, his voice was husky. Everything he was doing felt brand new to him - moving, looking, talking. “Who am I?” he started to realise he had no idea who he was. It was like he was just born as an adult, with no history or identification known to him.

The white flying device lowered itself to the man, as it noticed him looking down at his large hands, flexing his fingers. Knuckles and joints popped and clicked as he did so.

“I’m a Ghost,” the feminine voice paused momentarily. “Actually, now I’m your ghost. And you… Well, you’ve been dead a long time.” It watched as the human’s head turned up to look at the thing that called itself his ghost. “So, you’re going to see a lot of things you won’t understand.”

The nameless man was speechless and stunned. Being woken up or resurrected in a place like this and a floating machine talking to you is enough to make anyone struggle to find the appropriate words. As he tried to stand, a distant battle-cry rang out not too far away causing the Ghost to look around. Its blue eye flitted left and right, as it scanned the environment for immediate threats. It turned back a moment later, its detachable parts quivered slightly as if it was feeling fear.

“This is Fallen territory. We aren’t safe here.” The Ghost’s focus moved to a large building in the distance, opposite from where the battle cry came from. “I have to get you to the City.” With that, the little machine turned again to take one final look before returning. “Hold still,” it said softly before it fizzled out of existence. The small device wasn’t giving him much opportunity to ask questions. It seemed the little machine was in a hurry.

The man who the ghost called ‘Guardian’ focused on the building in front of him. It was as wide as far as he could see, like a large fortification encompassing a base. The walls were slanted and had missing panels. Despite it looking in disrepair, it had withstood the elements and time itself far better than the long line of cars outside had.

“I’m still with you,” the now disembodied voice assured the guardian. “But we need to move, fast.”

Up ahead, a pathway of grass and pebbles with a scattering of snow snaked through  the clusters of aged, abandoned cars. The man could see an entrance to the large building.

“We won’t survive long out in the open like this. We need to get inside the Wall,” the ghost said with a hint of urgency in her mechanical voice.

With weak and shaky legs, the guardian began to move. His footsteps thudded heavily on the pebbled ground. After a few moments, he picked up speed and began to run faster towards the giant fortification. Another screech came from behind - still at a distance, but whatever it was, it was getting closer. The man picked up the pace as he had gained more confidence on his feet.

Upon entering the building, the sunlight faded the deeper he went in. With a fizzle, the ghost reappeared, its eye lit brighter, acting as a hovering torch for him.

“Okay; I need to find you a weapon before the Fallen find us,” the feminine voice mumbled as if it was deep in thought.

Inside the building, doors had been ripped off of their hinges, wall panels were missing and ceilings had collapsed; exposing ventilation tubes and old insulation dangling from above.

His footsteps slowed slightly as he heard a scuttling sound on the floor above.

He wasn’t alone.

“Quiet. They’re right above us.” The guardian’s little companion warned him. His heart pounded hard. The sensation felt strange, as if he wasn’t used to having a heart at all. Approaching a set of stairs, something moved inside the wall in front of him. A fallen wall panel revealed the unknown being’s glowing electric blue eyes as it climbed upwards. His heart almost leapt out of his chest as he froze on the spot.

Thankfully, it was oblivious to the guardian’s presence.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly climbed the stairs, holding his breath each time the metal beneath him creaked and groaned under his weight.

Reaching the top, he entered a large open space, however, with no power, he could see nothing. His ghost rose above him as it began to speak quietly.

“Hang tight. Fallen thrive in the dark. We won’t. Let me see what I can do.”

His eyes followed his floating companion as it flew off across the cavernous room. Its light highlighted some support beams as it flew past, revealing a solitary creature he assumed was a member of the Fallen, crawling up a thick pipe.

As if speaking through a radio, the guardian heard his ghost talk to him from a distance. Its light disappeared round a corner when it discovered a way to turn the power on.

“Another one of these hardened military systems… And a few centuries of entropy working against me.” He heard his companion mumble.

Squinting through the darkness he tried to spot any sign of the glowing light that belonged to the ghost but suddenly, overhead, lights began to switch on as the hum of power flowed back into the building. The man guessed his companion was able to hack into the building’s systems. He smiled as he watched his little ball of light return to him. However the happy expression didn’t last long.

“They’re coming for us!” the panicked female voice yelled as the blue light sped back towards the guardian. Behind it, were other flying objects with ominous red glowing lights. More creatures scaled the pipes while others ran along walkways, navigating their way to him and his ball of light.

The ghost rushed to a shutter and hacked it to open up now the power was back on.

“Here! I found a rifle! Grab it,” it commanded as the doorway rattled its way up its runners. Behind it was a weapon that had been dropped on the ground. Who knows how long it had been lying there…

More questions began to run through his mind. Did he know how to shoot? Was there any ammunition? Was he going to be able to do what the ghost wanted him to do? He seemed to just be following this thing blindly, believing every word it said to him. Was he right to trust it?

At this point, the guardian had no choice in the matter, things were coming after him. There was no turning back now. Rushing forward, he grabbed the rifle that his ghost had discovered for him.

“I hope you know how to use that thing,” the ghost commented with an air of anxiousness.

“Yeah. So do I,” he mumbled to himself as he rushed around a corner, avoiding piles of rubble and debris on the corridor floor. Pipes ran along the walls, splitting off into different directions. His pounding feet echoed down the narrow passageway as he ran. A large shadow cast on the wall ahead of him at the end of the corridor. He was getting closer to the Fallen. Swallowing hard, he prepared himself for a fight.

“Eyes forward. Watch your tracker,” his companion instructed.

Before he could ask what on earth the ghost meant, he noticed a circle appear in the top-left of his vision inside his helmet. The shape was split into segments like an orange. The top edge of the circle glowed red, suggesting something was nearby at his twelve o’clock. A little blue pointer showed in the middle of the circle, he assumed that was meant to be himself.

As he continued to run, movement to his left caught his eye and the central part of his circle shone a deep, dangerous red. From a small opening in the wall to his left, a creature leapt out at him.

“Shit!” he yelled as he spied the creature carrying what looked like an electrically charged knife. In a panic, he stepped back and instinctively raised the weapon. Aiming down the sights, he pulled the trigger back. A spray of bullets shot out of the automatic rifle, striking the creature and taking him down.

“Good shot, Guardian,” the companion commented, sounding impressed if not slightly relieved.

The guardian continued to follow the corridor round a ninety degree corner. More debris and cables littered the floor, long lights hung low from the ceiling; their fixtures had come undone over an extended period of time without maintenance. Old yellow water tanks lined the wall opposite him.

Eventually he entered a large room. More of these Fallen creatures dropped down from the ceiling, or came out from their hiding places. There were plenty of spots for these things to hide. Support columns and supply crates to name a couple. The guardian’s eyes were wide, rarely blinking as he frantically looked about, watching for threats or aiming with his gun. Every time he cleared a room of the Fallen, he allowed himself a moment to blink and take a breath.

Another surprise attack as he rounded another corner. He had forgotten to reload. The weapon uselessly clicked as he pulled the trigger.

“Mierda!” he growled, totally unaware that he yelled a word in a different language. His mind was too preoccupied with the advancing creature. Having no time to reload, he did what came naturally to him. A swift devastating punch to the creature’s head stopped it dead in its tracks, falling to the metal floor in a heap.

“Definitely a titan…” A mumble came from the disembodied woman’s voice.

“What was that?” the guardian retorted as he reloaded his weapon. Strangely, he seemed to know what he was doing. He continued to make his way down another corridor, leading away from the large room he was in. The ghost didn’t respond, and the man didn’t bother to push for an answer. He could hear more scuttling, which occupied his attention.

Running past probably the thousandth box so far, the companion suddenly spoke out with interest.

“Oh; a cache! Open it up!”

With his heavy frame, the man skidded to a halt to turn back and inspect the crate. Inside, was another weapon along with scrapped bits of machine or computer parts. The gun had a long, narrow barrel and a large scope on top. It was a sniper rifle.

“Quick. Sling it over your shoulder and go,” the ghost instructed him.

Doing as he was told, he stood up and clipped the weapon to his back. He continued on his way, and rounded a corner to his left. The guardian was met with two angry-red beams spanning the entire width of the corridor, intersecting in the middle.

“Tripmines! Don’t touch them!” the companion instructed.

“Good to know…” the man retorted sarcastically as he ran forward, ducking low. Resting his left palm on the floor, he slid under the lasers before swiftly getting back onto his feet again. He was beginning to feel more confident with his body. His movements had become more swift and less taxing than they originally were.

In the distance, another couple of red beams caught his eye. As he approached, a Fallen creature jumped out from a gap in the wall brandishing a knife. It took a swipe at him, but with a hard punch, the alien stumbled backwards, disturbing the laser and tripping the mine.

A deafening boom filled the air and shook the corridor, causing the guardian to flinch and take cover. The Fallen creature was killed instantly from the blast.

Before he could move on, more enemies appeared, making their way to him from the opposite end of the corridor. Swapping weapons, the man aimed down the long scope at the head of one of the creatures. He held his breath for a moment to keep the gun still. Without any hesitation, his finger gripped the trigger and pulled. The entire weapon jolted backwards with its recoil as the heavy shot rang out, ripping through the air. His target fell to the floor, dead. Two more shots followed, picking off the last of the enemies.

After reloading, he entered yet another large room. Four support columns towered over him, holding the ceiling up. A large red flag hung from the top, displaying a strange motif that meant nothing to him. Bizarre symbols were displayed on the wall, which looked like words written in Russian.

The chamber was quiet - too quiet. Sharp eyes darted from column, to crate, to large piles of rubble. Striding into the room, his automatic rifle back in hand, his suspicions were confirmed quickly. The tracker in his helmet’s vision lit up completely red as he became surrounded.

These creatures were armed with more than just electric knives. Some carried guns of their own kind. He was hit numerous times by small blue balls of energy. His armour offered some form of protection, but it still stung when he was hit.

One by one, each enemy was taken down either by being shot or receiving a devastating blow to the head with his fist. He had understood very quickly this was a kill or be killed situation his ghost had got him in. He’d have to ask questions later; if he makes it out alive that is…

Once that room was cleared, he dashed out of an open door to the side. The guardian had been following a white arrow on his tracker, keeping it at the top of his circle meant he was going in the right direction.

The way out was through a wind tunnel. Thankfully, the gigantic fans were motionless; allowing him to walk between the oversized deadly blades. His booted feet splashed through puddles of water that had collected on the ground; over the many years, water had made its way from outside and partially flooded the vast chamber.

The guardian’s companion spoke up again, making him jump slightly. He had forgotten it was still there, watching.

“The Fallen have a tighter hold on this place than I thought. Just a little bit further. Let’s hope there’s something left out there.”

The man frowned under his helmet. He still had no idea what was going on and felt perturbed by it. Finding another door, he was immediately met with a breeze pushing against his suit.

Now armed, it was safer for him to go outside. The sky had darkened as the sun had set. An enormous, towering rocket stood proud, pointing up into the night sky. The guardian’s mouth dropped in awe at the sight.

“Just what exactly are you expecting me to do, Ghost?” he asked as he eyed the complex-looking vehicle, feeling anxious.

“We’re looking for a way to get out of here. This was an old Cosmodrome. There’s got to be something we can fly out of here,” his companion replied as it set new coordinates on the guardian’s tracker.

Following the arrow on his compass-like feature, he ran forward across a yard. A bright red flare shot up in the distance. The loud popping sound it made as it fired high into the air echoed between the buildings, turning the man’s attention to it.

A bright portal opened up in the sky. Two large ships travelled out of it. One considerably bigger than the other. The smaller of the two flew right over the path the guardian was going to take.

“Fallen ships! This close to the surface?!” the ghost exclaimed. “Move!” There was urgency in its voice.

The nameless man broke into a sprint, large powerful strides pushed him forward in a hope to get to the coordinates without running into any more trouble. Sadly, the Fallen had other ideas.

To the guardian’s annoyance, the airship stopped just ahead of him. More Fallen dropped out of the back of it, ready to interfere with his and the ghost’s escape plan.

After finding a good vantage point, he swapped weapons, taking the sniper rifle. With precise aim, he took out the entire squad that was sent to stop him. Deadly shots echoing through the air as each Fallen member collapsed in a heap on the ground.

With the coast now clear, he jumped down from his position and began to sprint across the desolate land.

A low humming noise indicated another ship was incoming.

More enemies dropped in front of him. The man growled with frustration as he raised his auto rifle taking aim at his first target.

The creature's screams and howls filled the air as he cut through them while taking several hits himself.

After crossing the large yard, he approached another building. Smaller flying enemies spilled out of the jammed-open double doors. He gritted his teeth and got hit again from oncoming fire. Taking aim, he retaliated and showered the small hovering machines with bullets making them explode, scattering their parts all over the ground. His heavy footfalls crushed certain pieces as he ran through the debris and into the building.

His ghost spoke again, to provide the guardian an update on the task at hand. “I’m picking up signs of an old jumpship. Could be our ticket out of here.”

With a nod, the frustrated man pressed on, following the new coordinates his companion had provided him. It was clear the Fallen had made this place one of their bases of operations. They set up their own lights in the otherwise dark, complex maze of corridors and rooms.

The twisting and turning halls finally opened up into a clearing where an old ship was held up precariously on its stand.

The guardian stood below it, gazing up at the old and worn-out engines. His companion materialised and drifted around it to inspect it in greater detail.

“It’s been here a while. Hasn’t made a jump in centuries. We’re lucky the Fallen haven’t completely picked it clean,” the ghost commented in surprise.

The man couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason why the Fallen hadn’t touched it. Anxiousness set in as he considered it may not work.

“Will it fly?” he asked, sounding tired and sore after being shot several times.

The companion scanned the ship, checking for the parts required to make the journey. It then turned to face the guardian giving him a nod.

“I can make it work,” the robotic woman’s voice replied confidently. A wave of relief washed over the man as he watched his companion disappear into the machinery. Several seconds passed, and the delightful sound of a whine was heard as lights blinked into life. The engines groaned, but eventually spluttered into action. Flames blasting out of the back was apparently a good sign, and a dim orange glow danced on the wall behind it.

It was a shaky start, but the ship began to lift. Its hull creaked, complaining of having to move after being deathly still for so long. The guardian found himself sympathising with the ship…

After dropping a couple of feet, it finally stabilised and hovered. Its powerful downdraft kicked up dust and disturbed the small body of water below it, sending ripples to the outer edge.

The ghost’s voice projected as though it came through a radio again after it successfully started the ship. “Okay… It’s not going to break orbit, but it just might get us to the City.”

If the guardian was honest, anywhere sounded better than the Cosmodrome. He stepped back slightly as he watched the ship turn above him. Now it was in the air, it suddenly seemed so much bigger. He looked around to see if there was an obvious way of getting in. 

There wasn’t.

“Now - about that transmat…” his companion said as though it was trying to work out how to do it–

A growl came from behind the guardian causing him to turn to see a towering Fallen creature, far bigger than himself crawl out of a large hole in the wall.

“Ugh - you’ve got to be fu-” he began to groan indignantly but his ghost interrupted.

“Bringing you in!” it called out as the guardian dissolved into bright blue embers, transporting him into the ship.

The steady whine of the ship grew louder as it rose higher. The large Fallen creature began to look puny as they continued to climb.

“Let’s get you home,” the companion said with a soothing voice. It could tell its guardian’s mood was rather frayed.

The ship hightailed it out of the Cosmodrome. Its engines became two bright burning orbs in the sky as a strange hooded figure stood on the rooftop and watched it leave.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this fic.

Next Chapter >

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Bright lights of green, red and white, paints an image of the runway of Nueva York airport at night. Miguel brings the Boeing-747 in to approach, nearing the end of a seven hour flight from Mexico. You’re not on his flight and he’s been away from you for a few days. To say that he’s missing you is an understatement.

Weather conditions are perfect, zero crosswinds, leading to a smooth landing.

After a short taxi to the terminal, Miguel begins his checklists with his co-pilot, Jessica Drew and updates the plane’s log book. Once everything is complete and switched off, he slides his phone out of his pocket and takes it out of airplane-mode.

There’s the usual routine of getting off the plane, ambling through the terminal to then join the queue of cabin crew to get through customs.

He ignores some admiring sideways glances at him from other cabin crew members as he minds his own business; staring ahead of him with a straight expression, thinking about you.

After handing over his passport to be checked, he’s given the all clear and is allowed to continue his way through the airport.

As he strides along the tiled flooring, pulling his small case behind him; his phone buzzes in his pocket a standard chiming ringtone pierces the air.

Sliding the phone out of his pocket again, he takes a look at the notification. It’s a text from you.

“It’s go time xx”

“Dios mio…” (my God) he mutters to himself as he hastily jabs in his reply to you.

“Just landed. On my way.”

His walking pace picks up dramatically as he stows his phone away again.

Miguel’s sleek white Tesla glides down the highway as he drives away from Nueva York airport. Instead of driving home however, he begins to follow signs for the hospital. His keen eyes dart left and right, driving as fast as he can without getting into trouble. Watching the flow of the traffic in front of him, making decisions on when’s best to change lanes to reduce having to slow down unnecessarily. He does however, make a quick pitstop to buy a couple of things from a store.

Thankfully at this time of night, the hospital's multi-storey car-park isn’t too busy and he’s able to find a space quickly enough. Shutting the trunk of his car, he carries in a bouquet of flowers and a bag of your favourite snacks and refreshments and a little something he’s had stashed in his boot for a while.

His heart is hammering in his chest. Your text scrolls up in his mind occasionally. It’s go time… he’s anxious and nervous, but most importantly, excited.

Signs hang from the ceiling of the hospital, his chocolate brown eyes scan each one, looking for directions for the maternity ward. You’re just about to have a baby. His baby…

He finds the right place and enters the private room he made sure you were going to get when it was time. Before even finding the room, he heard your groans and your well-practised breathing techniques to help cope with the contractions.

Your tired eyes widen and brighten up when you see your man enter the room. The beautiful bouquet of flowers in his arm catches your attention, before your gaze falls upon the bag of goodies.

Miguel beams down at you, pride swelling in his chest as he sees you being so brave. “I’m here now, mi amor,” he whispers to you and kisses you on your forehead before brushing some loose hair that is stuck to your face.

You already look tired and your contractions have only just started. The last three months of pregnancy have been hard. Your sweet, little bundle of joy has wriggled and rolled when you try sleeping. You know for sure they’ll have a future in soccer as they’ve kicked your bladder countless times and hard! Needless to say, you’re excited to meet them. Although your sleep might not be much better, at least you won’t be uncomfortable for much longer.

In the earlier stages of your pregnancy, it actually felt nice; having them roll about. Occasionally you’d give your baby bump a tiny little prod to reply to their movements. You’d giggle when Miguel would press his ear against your swollen belly and the baby would kick at him, making him pull away suddenly.

There were certainly fond memories of the both of you snuggling in bed as his large hand caresses your precious belly and smothering you with kisses.

And the sex… Oh boy… He fell apart every time he took you from behind and supported your baby bump. In fact, it drove you both wild.

Back in the present now, your hand squeezes his fingers as you ride out another wave of a contraction. Another pain-filled groan fills the air.

“That’s it (Y/N), you’re doing brilliantly,” a midwife tells you as she checks the monitor displaying the baby’s vitals.

Both you and Miguel decided you want it to be a surprise, another incentive to deliver your baby. Nine months of not knowing and trying to guess has been driving you nuts.

As the contractions come and go, Miguel is by your side. Mopping your brow, rubbing your back, and offering his sturdy hand for you to squeeze when you feel the undeniable pain coursing through you as you get closer to delivering your child.

He whispers soothing words of encouragement and praise, stroking your hair softly in those quiet times between contractions, wishing that he could take the pain away from you. It upset him watching you suffer, even though it was a lead-up to the momentous occasion of starting a little family.

You try different positions as you become more dilated, inching ever closer to meeting your special little one. In one instance, you stand as he supports you, allowing you to lean against him while you hold onto his broad shoulders. His hands rub soothingly over your back, holding you up while you let gravity assist you in delivery.

When it finally comes to pushing, Miguel’s support hasn’t wavered one bit. And when the first wails of a newborn baby fills the delivery room, he gives you a firm squeeze around your shoulders and a tender kiss on your forehead, praising you and worshipping you for being so brave and strong.

Peace descends upon your private room as your baby falls asleep in your arms with a belly full of milk. Such a perfect bundle of love wrapped up and cradled in your arms.

You feel Miguel’s eyes on you as he feels around inside the bag that he brought to the hospital, his fingers searching for something specific, but he can’t look away from you and the baby for one second.

“She’s got your cheekbones,” you say softly as you wiggle your finger while your daughter’s hand is wrapped firmly around it in her sleep. You never thought it was possible to feel this much love for such a tiny little thing, but there you are, feeling like your heart is going to burst as it is so full.

Miguel chuckles as his fingers finally find what they are looking for buried deep under energy bars, bottles of water and candy. “You think so?” he asks as he takes out the package. “Looks like we finally have a use for this now,” he says as he shows you what he brought to the hospital.

You gasp in surprise - quietly though, so as to not wake the baby.

Gleaming under the lights in your hospital room, is the clear plastic package holding the baby grow that Miguel bought all that time ago when you had your pregnancy scare. You’re not sure if it’s hormones or tiredness, but your eyes well up with happy tears and you cannot wait to see your little girl dressed in the cute suit with the wording ‘born to fly’ written on it.

The fact that he kept it and made sure he brought it with him on the day your little one arrived makes you love your man even more.

He sits beside you, making the mattress you’re lying on dip underneath his weight. “Thought of any names yet?” he asks as he places the baby clothes down on the bed between you two.

“Hmm,” you hum in contemplation as you think about any names that spring to mind. “Not yet. What about you?” you ask in return.

Miguel leans in closer, his index finger gently stroking his daughter’s little chubby cheek. “What about Gabriella?” he suggests. “Gabriel would love that, having a niece with a similar name. Might encourage him to visit the city a little more.”

A wider smile develops on your face as you think about it. “Yeah,” you reply. “I really like that. Gabriel would be the coolest uncle too, don’t you think?”

He chuckles warmly in response. “Oh, he sure would,” he replies as he nuzzles against the side of your head. “He’s been preparing for this day ever since I told him you were expecting.”

Miguel looks down at his little girl, his heart also bursting with pride and love. “The things that troublesome duo will get up to when she’s older. I’ll be having grey hairs before I’m supposed to.”

Now it is your turn to laugh, your little giggle makes baby Gabriella bob up and down in your arms, unfazed. “I’ll still love you, grey streaks and all, don’t worry.”

He leans in close again. “Good,” he says with a deep voice, vibrating in your ear before kissing your cheek.

The next day, you return home as a family of three. Throughout the day, you receive cards and phone calls from well-wishers and messages to congratulate you both. Some people even visit, dropping off food that they have prepared so you both can easily feed yourselves while you adjust to parenthood.

The flowers that Miguel bought you sit proudly in a glass vase in the living room. Their bright colours add to the homely atmosphere while you’re settled on your couch as you watch Miguel have his turn holding his daughter.

She is dressed in what you both agree on is your favourite baby grow of all time. She looks adorable cradled in his large arms, sound asleep, wrapped warmly in the little suit that he bought so long ago.

Miguel is absolutely besotted with her - and you. He always makes sure that you understand he appreciates you so wholeheartedly and values you both so very dearly.

You can tell that he is going to be the best father any daughter could ever ask for, and Gabriella is so lucky that she is the one who has him by her side, supporting her as she becomes her own person.

I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter of Pilot Miguel. It was small, but I thought it was sweet to write.