R.F. Blanche

‘Brooke,’ I breathe, not bothering to take my own caution, to protect myself. Despite my best efforts, my gaze darts to the Countdown steadily ticking down above her head. The time is still too close, but it’s nowhere near as close as the too loud noise, the shuddering of the walls, had me fear.

Where most people would at least concede to a hug, a gentle hand of some reassuring contact, Brooke isn’t one of those people. I refuse to force it either, knowing she’d begrudgingly understand my need for it, however contrary to her own it might be.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, eyes narrowed as she skims my expression. Reading all the little nuances others might completely miss. Where my fear makes me seek Countdowns, Brooke’s makes her read the truth on faces if it’s somebody she knows. It’s something many people don’t appreciate about her because she doesn’t trust them enough.

I know better than to even bother trying to lie to Brooke.

‘Just thinking about Uni. Nobody’ll know about all this.’ I gesture above my own head, recalling Bettie’s occasional looks up at it. ‘It’s a fresh start, but like, what if I screw it up?’

Brooke’s scowl might have some people running, but I recognise it as thought. She’s chewing over her reply, refusing to give me words that mean nothing. That might be insignificant considering how jumpy the mere thought of it has made me.

‘You can’t screw it up because they’re part of you, Sly,’ she assures me gently. ‘So yeah, they’re not a thing you always like, but they’re there. A bit like you being a stupid height.’ She gently prods my shoulder as she says it.

‘I’m not tall, Brooke,’ I tease, resting my elbow on her shoulder and weathering the flash of mock annoyance icing her eyes. ‘You’re just too short.’

‘It might actually –’

A sharp burst of laughter; so much bitterness held behind the sound that for a moment Danny didn’t even recognise it as his own mouth making the noise. It was the look of mild horror, of slight anguish, on Atlas’s face that really proved to him that he was the one laughing.

‘Be good for me?’ Danny asked, echoing the words that others had muttered to each other, heads bowed close when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Forgetting just how much noise passed through the canvas of their tent walls. ‘Do you really believe that?’

Atlas let out a long breath, rested his elbows on his knees so the firelight put more of his face in shadow. But Danny had been around him long enough to recognise his body language, more so than his actual expressions.

‘I don’t know,’ Atlas admitted candidly. ‘But isn’t it worth a shot?’

‘I don’t want to go,’ Danny said, for once feeling like the child he was. He hated that his voice was so small, so filled with the betrayal that this all felt like. He’d hoped that rage might win out, that he would kick and scream and refute the decision. And yet that wasn’t the emotion that had won out in the end.

‘It might be different,’ Atlas said, though even Danny could tell he didn’t believe the words. ‘Simone might make an exception.’

Danny nodded, a hollow feeling settling in the bottom of his stomach. They both knew there was no way the professor would change anything for him; there’d be no special treatment because that wasn’t how The Centre worked. An equal footing, that was one of the things it claimed helped with everything.

‘It might not even happen,’ Atlas said, and Danny knew it was his last ditch attempt at making things better. It was a piss poor attempt, but Danny felt himself holding onto it desperately nonetheless. ‘Things might all get worked out before she comes back again, and all this talk would’ve been for nothing.’

‘You made it!’ Annie-Mae’s voice draws my attention away from moving aside for somebody, and towards her. Or at least, towards the shape I think is her before she collides with me in a tight hug.

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ I assure her, giving her a quick squeeze before pulling away. There’s a bright smile on her face, but if she hadn’t spoken, I doubt I would’ve recognised her. The blonde wig she’s wearing looks wrong; not like the department have done anything wrong, just because that’s not what my sister’s hair is meant to look like. The clothes are slightly too preppy as well. I know it’s all for the character, and yet it still feels slightly surreal seeing her like that.

Her brow furrows ever so slightly. ‘Shouldn’t you be taking your seat?’

I awkwardly run a hand through the back of my hair. ‘Ren’s there so nobody can try switching. Bertie’s trying to smother fires with your director, and Brooke’s probably causing issues with security.’

The smile on her face seems to brighten further, amusement obvious. No matter her protests growing up about my friends, their support tonight means something.

I place a quick kiss on the top of her head, careful of the microphone wire leading to her forehead. ‘But I wanted to let you know we were here. Break a leg, Annie.’

‘Thanks, Sly,’ she says, pulling me in for another hug. ‘Enjoy the show.’

You’re always taught never step in the path of an attacking animal. That you should either freeze or get as far away from them as possible. Unfortunately, I chose to ignore all that advice and instead move to wrap an arm around Brooke’s waist. A dangerous option, one normally only Bertie would be daft enough to pick. But I can’t let her do something she may regret.

Brooke goes to move, and stumbles because of my grip on her. For a brief moment, panic flashed in her eyes, before she looks back at me.

‘What’re you doing?’ she asks.

‘Is it worth it?’ I ask in a whisper, forcing myself not to look at the chuckling mother. Her comment had been throwaway in her eyes, nothing worth dwelling on. ‘Attack her, she threatens a law suit for assault, and then Dad’s left trying to get you out of it.’ Bringing my dad into the mix is a low blow, but the flicker of annoyance in her eyes assures me it’s the right call. I have a point, but she’s loathed to admit it right now.

‘Who said I was gonna attack her?’ she asks petulantly.

A little of the tension eases in her shoulders, and I make the executive decision to release her. Still, I move a little in front of her, partially blocking the woman from sight.

‘Just your general mother bear demeanour,’ I tease with a shrug.

Brooke sneers at me before folding her arms tightly across her chest and all but glaring at the door the twins should soon be tumbling out of.

When the letters had arrived, her curiosity had been piqued. There was nothing she could do about that, nothing she could do to stop the questions from bouncing around her head about the whole thing. The other thing she’d been able to control was who she told about the letters. For one brief moment she’d contemplated telling nobody about them. She’d contemplated going to the meetings alone; after all, it was simple enough to find out somebody’s name, even easier to get a physical description of them. What she couldn’t work out was how they’d gotten the letter to her. Sure, the camp was easy to spot, but nobody had seen anyone strange. There’d been no warning about an unknown stranger coming around.

Her moment of indecision hadn’t lasted long though. She knew telling the others was the best thing she could do. That was how she ended up with Lion being beside her, looking to all the world like some sort of bodyguard. Collie had wanted to come, Badger too, but the more people that turned up for this meeting, the harder it might be. Ruby had already been uncertain enough about Lion joining.

‘Are you sure about this, Fox?’ Lion asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder. ‘What if this meeting is nothing like the last one?’

‘Just makes it interesting,’ she said, carefully tucking the book she’d been idly flicking through back onto the shelf. ‘Can it really be any worse than what we’ve already faced?’

Lion’s attention slowly slid back to meet hers. She could practically see the argument bubbling up inside him, but he didn’t voice it. Something about her statement had eased a little of his own reservations.

After a moment, however, he nodded just behind her, and Fox stiffened. Slowly, she turned to face the young man walking towards them. He had longish dark hair that fell framing his face. His expression was set into something of a determined frown, eyes darting around the place as if he were trying to take everything in. His gaze shifted over the two of them, lingering only as he passed them.

Fox smirked, mentally counted to ten before turning around. The man had paused just a little past Lion.

‘Jonathan?’ she asked, waving her own letter so that it fluttered gently in the air.

Slowly, as if in something of a daze, he turned to face them. As with most people, his eyes went first to appraisingly look Lion over.

‘You didn’t really think I’d come alone to meet a stranger in a strange place, did you?’ Fox asked, tilting her head a little to the side.

Jonathan scoffed slightly, a small smile on his face. There was something that endeared him to Fox, but she knew better than to give into that feeling straight away. An air of suspicion was better than blind trust in her eyes.

‘I suppose not,’ he admitted. ‘Jonny, please though.’

Fox nodded once.

‘I’m Lion,’ he said, offering his hand out.

Jonny smiled, shook the proffered hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘So,’ Fox said, tucking the letter back into her pocket, ‘do we want to share stories or try working out why somebody thinks we should share our stories?’

Jonny ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. ‘A little investigation? Now you’re talking my language.’

As with most bookshops, I’d tucked myself away in the science section, trying to quieten my nerves about the whole thing. Sophia had been charming, even the quip about things changing had made sense while being slightly cutting about the whole thing. Looking back, she hadn’t really spoken much. She’d been willing to hear me out, to see what I knew. I’m not complaining, it’s nice to get thoughts out there sometimes, but… it was certainly one-sided, and I’m even more in the dark about the whole thing than I was before. At least before I didn’t have to worry about what somebody else was hiding.

I shake my head. Dwelling on that doesn’t matter right now. I need to think about what this next meeting might be about, what Ruby might actually be like and how much she could already know about the whole situation. Does she know Sophia? Should I perhaps have asked Brooke if she’d gotten any letters? Maybe we were meant to pool our information.

‘Hey,’ someone says brightly, forcing my attention away from the books I am staring blankly at, and instead towards a young woman with a warm smile. Her head is titled a little to the side, her ponytail still swinging slightly even though she is stationary.

‘Sorry,’ I say instinctively, moving aside in case she wants the books.

The smile brightens. She waves a piece of paper at me. ‘I could be wrong,’ she says, a boldness about her voice that reminds me oddly of Annie-Mae, ‘but did you get one of these?’

I mentally hit my head with my palm. ‘You’re Ruby.’

‘Got it in one,’ she says, tucking the letter into a pocket and offering out her other hand. ‘Sylvester?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, shaking her hand and being a little taken aback by hold meek the handshake itself is.

A slight furrow appears between Ruby’s eyes, but she shakes it off quickly.  ‘So, why’d you send me a letter with your description in?’

‘I – I didn’t. I don’t…’ My voice peters out as I notice the amusement glinting behind her eyes. ‘You guessed it wasn’t me, too?’

‘“Too”?’

‘Sophia,’ I say, and notice recognition flashing behind her eyes. ‘She thought it wasn’t me either.’

‘You met Sophia?’

I nod. ‘You know her?’

Ruby heaves a deep sigh, tightly folds her arms across her chest. ‘There might be more to her story than she told you.’

I scoff despite myself. ‘She barely said anything.’

‘Figures.’ Ruby glances around the bookshop. ‘C’mon,’ she says, motioning for me to follow her. ‘Looks like they’ve got a coffee shop. Let’s grab a drink, this could take a while.’

‘No?’ she echoed disbelievingly. ‘To the plan as a whole, or –?’

‘It’s dangerous, Fox.’

‘What in our lives isn’t right now?’ she snapped, not caring that they had an audience. The world around her seemed to fade into static, and Lion was the only person she could focus on.

‘Doesn’t have to be,’ he countered, though she read the doubt in his eyes. Even when he looked away from her.

‘I’m doing it,’ she said, finally forcing her attention to those around them. Daring them to argue the point.

‘While I admire the bravado,’ said Prue lightly, her piercing gaze holding Fox’s attention. ‘I do think this time it’s best if you don’t.’

Fox heard the sigh of relief from Lion, but ignored it.

‘You’re good,’ Prue admitted with a gentleness that forced Fox to keep her mouth shut. ‘But our guys are better. Atlas has done this before, and Moe knows the route better than anybody.’

‘Then it could be a learning opportunity,’ Fox suggested.

Prue was shaking her head before she’d even finished speaking. ‘Not this time. This time, you should rest.’

Fox wanted to argue. Wanted to remind them all that she needed to do something. When she was still, the thoughts came back. The accusations of people who laid blame squarely on her shoulders. Words she sometimes couldn’t help but agree with. With nothing to do, she still saw her father. Ox. Even the sneering face of Ignis. And she hated it.

‘Stand down, kid,’ Atlas offered kindly, a hand resting on her shoulder.

Fox sighed, let her shoulders sag as she glanced to Lion. There was something almost pleading in his eyes that tugged at her heart.

‘Got any plans for the day?’ she asked softly.

‘You are so smitten, Lion.’

Cameron’s teasing voice was almost a relief. He fell into easy step with Lion. Briefly he looked to the sleeping figure cradled against Lion’s chest.

‘It’s not like that,’ Lion said softly.

The young man made a sound of disbelief at the back of his throat.

‘It’s not mostly like that,’ Lion corrected, knowing there was no point in lying. Give Cameron a centimetre, and he’d go running to Badger for the full truth of the matter. ‘Everyone would’ve brought her in. She was outside camp.’

‘Again?’ Cameron stopped, and Lion hesitated a moment before stopping himself. Fox shifted slightly, but exhaustion meant she remained asleep.

‘Camp’s confining as well,’ Lion said, echoing her words. Part of him got it, the sentiment, and yet another part of him craved the protection camp offered. A protection they’d all agreed to.

He thought Cameron was going to fight him, but that was the before-Cameron view. The man had matured in ways he still didn’t know. Like he had for him.

‘At least she’ll get some kip in a bed this way,’ he offered, before heading back towards the centre of camp. Yet his words caught Lion’s thoughts, ignited a concern he knew he needed to talk to Badger about. To Collie. And, eventually, Fox herself.

‘Hey,’ says Brooke softly, her hand placed briefly on my back before she hastily retracts it. ‘Maybe call it an evening, Sly.’

Once again, my eyes find the sentence. The words are familiar, but without looking at them I couldn’t tell you what they say.

I sigh deeply, focusing on the lingering sense of Brooke’s rare physical contact like an anchor to the present. ‘All right. But tomorrow.’

‘That is not, technically, your decision to make,’ he reminded her, far more gently than he would have if it were anybody else. If he couldn’t tell how deeply she already cared about the man in question.

Slowly, he turned his attention towards Mathias. Physically, he could have been threatening if he so choose to utilise that imposing figure of his. And yet they all knew he never would. That even if he was willing to do this for them, it was as much a way to protect his brother as it was anything else. Perhaps that was why, deep down, Gabe had agreed to even meet the man. To hear his suggestion when Phia was so adamant against it.

‘I can get her to take me there,’ Mathias said, wilting ever so slightly beneath the look but keeping his attention adamantly away from Phia.

His words were in English, and so Gabe did him the curtesy of keeping it simple. ‘And you’re aware of the danger to everybody present?’

Mathias visibly swallowed, before nodding curtly.

Gabe shook his head, languidly closed the distance between the two of them and didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for the obvious unease growing inside Mathias.

‘I need your words.’

‘I’m aware,’ Mathias said softly, gaze darting briefly to Phia. Luckily, she understood the importance of the moment enough to remain quiet, even if Gabe knew she was seething nonetheless. ‘And I accept that.’

Gabe nodded once before shifting away once more, his attention fully on Phia. She looked sick, but he knew she was preparing to steel herself for what they were about to do.

For the action he knew she’d take.

‘You’re not coming, frangine,’ he ordered in gentle French.

‘Like fuck I’m not,’ she countered, forcing the words in Italian as she stalked closer to him.

Gabe merely glared at her, refusing to bow to her whims. ‘You’re not, because you’ll protect him over everything else and I can’t have that.’

She opened her mouth to argue, but Gabe put his hands firmly on her shoulders. Her eyes snapped to his. He saw the rage, the pain, burning behind them, and it only solidified his resolve to keep her out of it.

With one last wistful look at the kettle I head to the living room, figuring that it is my elder brother duty to at least check in on her; and because she’d probably skin me alive if I didn’t offer her tea as well.

Pages of scripts cover the floor along with numerous highlighters. The mess is an ordinary fixture in our lives when show season comes around. Annie-Mae is sitting in the armchair, tucked out of view in the bay window; curled in the chair, her forehead resting on her knees which are drawn in close to her. I can’t see her face, which somehow makes it all the worse.

‘Annie?’ I ask tentatively, crouching to pick up the nearest sheet of paper. It is some scene I’d heard her practicing a few days before. Her hurried handwriting covers the margins around her monologue; notes with too many lines scored under them for it to be positive. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing,’ she mumbles into her lap. ‘Everything’s just perfect. Can’t you tell?’

I heave a sigh, hear the kettle boil but ignore it as I perch on the arm of her seat.

‘You’ve spent too much time with Brooke,’ I tell her, gently rubbing her back. ‘You never used to be this snarky.’

She scoffs but doesn’t look up.

‘Seriously Annie, if I can help –’

Her movement to straighten has me jumping up in an instant, even if only so I don’t fall to the floor in a heap. Despite my concern there is a broad grin on her face.

‘Nailed it,’ she tells me.

‘Annie!’ I chastise, seeing the brightness behind her eyes and feeling a little of the tension that had formed a hard knot in my chest loosen considerably.

She has the decency to look at least a little apologetic. ‘Was that the kettle?’

I roll my eyes but leave the living room, calling over my shoulder, ‘You’re making dinner though.’

‘You’re not the only one who needs time out,’ he said, shifting a little on the rock so she could perch beside him.

‘Oh, I know that,’ she agreed, shaking her head at his offer. For once, she had the upper hand height wise, and Danny couldn’t help wonder if that was a conscious decision. ‘Just thought you were smarter.’

‘Smarter?’ Danny questioned, surprised by the small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

‘Yeah, but I’m not saying it again,’ she offered gently. ‘Still, everything alright?’

Danny heaved out a deep sigh, and glanced up once more. He still remembered them meaning nothing, the memory of Atlas’s lessons stolen from him. But no longer. He remembered the stories, the way others joined to listen every so often. Stories that had brightened too many dark nights.

‘I keep thinking none of it was even worth it,’ he admitted, knowing if he could be honest with anyone, it was her. ‘That we were on the wrong side of it.’

‘We had no choice,’ she reminded him, offering out a hand. ‘But we do now.’

‘I’m pretty sure you’ve missed the boat on that one,’ she countered, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

From their spot on a rickety old bench in some glade of the forest Atlas had cleared, they had a clear view of Fox and Lion. He was perched on a tree stump, yet still seemed to have a few centimetres of height on her. The fact his jacket swamped her, the hem practically reaching her knees and the arms flapping wildly as she gesticulated, did nothing to help matters.

‘I was gonna say long lost cousins,’ Badger pouted petulantly. ‘What were you talking about?’

Collie made a disbelieving noise before turning her attention back to him. There was an intensity about her look that always made him squirm. He loved it.

‘You’re almost as bad as Pigeon,’ she chastised.

Badger scoffed. ‘Nobody’s that bad.’

‘They’re just each other’s person.’

‘Ya do know –?’

‘If you remind me about his crush one more time, I’m puttin’ you on dishwasher duty for a month.’

Badger smirked at her. ‘Oh it is so almost worth it.’

‘With Swift.’

‘Ouch,’ Badger complained, a hand flying to rest over his heart. ‘Ya wound me.’

The smug little smirk that pulled on Collie’s lips almost made the threat bearable.

But Badger pulled his gaze away from her and back to the others.

‘D’ya reckon Lion’d even get an arm into one of Fox’s jackets?’

Collie’s scoff startled several birds from the trees. Lion was standing in an instant, and Fox’s attention was on them; panic and resolve both seemed obvious on her expression.

‘Sorry,’ Collie grumbled, colour flooding up her face as she jabbed an elbow into Badger’s ribs.

‘Ya know how it is,’ he joked, grinning as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

‘Perhaps we should save her,’ Fox noted, already moving towards them.

It took a moment for the tension to ebb out of Lion’s shoulders, before he finally followed. ‘Not sure Collie actually needs saving, or if Badger will.’

‘There’s no music,’ Fox noted, sliding her pencil into the messy bun of her hair. She didn’t really feel like dancing, instead wanting to get the portraits done before she forgot anything, but if it was what Lion needed then she was willing to do it with him.

‘Does it matter?’ There was a hint of uncertainty behind his voice; a note she hoped to ease as she gently placed her hand in his.

‘Well of course,’ she said, affecting a too snooty voice that had him smirking. ‘What if I’m dancing to something fast and you’re thinking slow?’

Lion hummed his assent to her point as he carefully took her other hand, creating an oval of space between them.

‘Fast then,’ he told her.

‘Practice,’ suggests Bertie from his place lounging across an armchair in Brooke’s somewhat cramped living room. ‘I don’t understand ‘ow ‘is Countdown isn’t flashing a warning all the time.’

Brooke freezes before slowly turning to face Bertie. Her green eyes are narrowed dangerously. A mother tiger prepared to attack.

‘I wonder too sometimes,’ I say, instantly earning a slightly softer look. The warning still dances behind her eyes though, a challenge to Bertie that he might yet take her up on one day.

‘You know I’m right here, don’t you?’ pipes up Darren with enough faux hurt behind his voice to garner a soft chuckle from me even before he pouts.

Brooke turns her attention to him slowly, appraisingly. It is a wonder that he doesn’t wither away from it. ‘All the more reason for this conversation,’ she says, dabbing another graze and causing him to wince.

‘I think you enjoy inflicting pain on me,’ Ren grumbles, but the smile dancing on his lips proves the comment is only meant in jest.

‘At least we know you’ll pull through, hey Sly?’

Another dangerous comment from Bertie. This time, Brooke doesn’t rise to the bait, but I notice the slight tensing of her shoulders.

‘Have you done that homework?’ Darren says, a diversionary comment that holds no ground between us given the differing lessons we were all in.

A yell. The familiar tone of Lion’s voice. Even with the cacophony around her, Fox heard him. He was easy to spot, standing taller than most around them. But a second later he was gone. Swallowed by the sea of others.

Fox was moving before she had time to take anything into consideration. Most people’s focus was on the task at hand. Nobody had time to notice her slipping between them, making a direct beeline for her best friend.

‘Fox,’ Lion breathed as she broke through the gathering Virused. He was collapsed on the floor, one hand grasping his leg and the other shakily on a rock.

‘Fox!’ Atlas’s voice barely dented the noise, and deep down she knew she should feel bad for abandoning her partner. But they had all been aware of this possibility when they separated them. An inevitable reunion if there was even a whisper of danger to the other.

She cast a very quick look over her best friend as he tried to push himself to his feet. Lion’s skin had a pallor to it that scared her for what other injuries he might be hiding. A scratch on his arm was almost too much.

And then she turned her back on him. There was nothing she could do with Virused at her back. No point patching him up if only to get overwhelmed.

‘Come on then,’ she whispered, tightening her grip on the knife she held. Her own immunity pack held some of the more nervous Virused at bay, but it wouldn’t last. She forced herself not to look at their faces, at the red eyes that still terrified her.

‘Fox, you need –’

‘No,’ she said through gritted teeth, refusing to look back at Lion. The shadow cast across the encroaching wall of Virused assured her he was on his feet. But she couldn’t lose anybody else to this, least of all Lion. ‘Go back to camp.’

‘Fox,’ he said firmly, warningly. A gentle harshness to his voice that almost undid her resolve. ‘Not without you.’

‘Someone has to stay,’ she reminded him, dodging forwards to scare a Virused back. Sometimes she understood why Danny said it was like dancing. ‘And there’s not that many left.’

‘Liar,’ he whispered, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Her heart stuttered. Was he injured enough he needed her to support him? She allowed a brief glance back at him, noticed the stoop of his back so he could talk to her quietly. A reminder that even if she stood directly in front of him, he could literally see over her head without any trouble.

‘Together, remember?’

Fox swallowed nervously. Part of her selfishly wanted him to stay, needed his solid presence for the simple comfort it brought. Yet part of her screamed to make him leave, to protect himself because that was so important to her. And a small sliver of logic forced her to acknowledge two things: Injured he was a liability to himself and the team, and also if he was injured she was of no help to Atlas.

‘Not this time, Lion,’ she told him firmly, trying to echo the command in her tone that she’d heard Prue using with the twins.

A beat of silence. Another Virused surged forwards. Lion’s hand fell away, allowing her to attack and protect him from a threat that terrified her. But one more bearable than the thought of losing him because she hadn’t done enough.