#* shiloh.

she only remembers flashes. the silence was too thick, the halls too quiet. there was the creeping realization, too late, that something was wrong. rounding the corner, catching sight of black noir, the overwhelming, strange sense of acceptance. she'd tried to put up a fight, but pathetically she'd lasted less than thirty seconds. after that it's just... pain. she remembers thinking that her blood would ruin the documents she'd tried to smuggle out underneath her jacket. she doesn't remember how or when it stopped. she doesn't remember being dragged out of vought. and she certainly doesn't remember how she got here, in the dimly lit cottage that smelled faintly of mold and dust and pines. she's been in and out of consciousness for what feels like days but, judging by the state of her wounds, can only have been hours.

she looks at shiloh's blurred figure through heavy-lidded eyes. is he the one who dragged her out? he must have been. she thinks she recalls seeing his broad figure hovering over her, but she's not sure. her muddled mind still can't distinguish between dreams and reality. " i messed up, didn't i? where are we? "

his eyes are dark and cold, staring down at her like a storm. there is no spark of amusement around his lips, no hint of any friendship or trust to be found in his gaze. elia slowly becomes conscious of the tight grip he has on her shoulders, one hand close enough to her neck that she feels her breathing become shallow in response. the concrete wall feels cold against her back. the way he looms over her might have intimidated her, had she not realized a fundamental truth: if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. this is just a warning. keep your damn mouth shut.

elia places her right hand over his. she does not avert her gaze as she moves his hand down to her heart, so he can feel the steady drum of her heart under his palm. months of working like a spider in her web to procure him information, providing him access to rooms and archives and people, months in which she had felt the walls around her heart slowly crumble. days, weeks, months... and yet after all this time, nearly every interaction still ended the same way: a dire warning or cold look, a threat if he was truly worried. " i don't know what happened that made you this way. but you need to start trusting me, adam. i want vought to end just as much as you. and you know i value my life enough to keep my mouth shut. trust me. "

every day i fight, i fight for all of us. elia scoffs and rolls her eyes, positively steaming in frustration. she paces through the room, throws her arms up in exasperation, disbelieving laugh ringing from her lips. “ oh please, adam. you fight for no one but yourself. yes, no need to argue that your actions are for the common good of the people, we both know it's because you need to have your vengeance. you're just too proud to admit it, just like you're too proud to let anyone help you. what were you thinking out there today, going after firecracker on your own, during a fundraiser no less, in front of half of vought ?! you can't do this on your own. there are too many of them and homelander is too strong. you are going to get yourself killed. ” she turns to face him again, seizes his hands in hers even though she knows he'll hate it. her grip is tight, nails digging into his skin, forcefully holding him in place. “ look at me. i know you think i'm stupid, that i'm useless, weak, a liability rather than an asset, but i'm not. you want to fight, then start fighting with me instead of for me. if you want to take down vought, to truly destroy them, adam, you're going to have to start trusting other people. you might as well start with me. ”

the lights are blinding, the music at the fundraiser deafeningly loud, the mix of sweat and expensive perfumes so heavy that it's enough to make anyone feel dizzy. still, elia keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the woman walking up the stage, waving and smiling at the crowd, ready to give her speech. firecracker. she might not be homelander, but she is certainly still responsible for enough misery. she clenches her fists, and is about to step forward when she feels a heavy, firm hand on her shoulder. before she can even turn around, adam's mouth is against the shell of her ear. keep your head down, he whispers.

elia freezes for a moment, then inclines her head slightly to look over her shoulder. as always his expression reveals no secrets. it is blank, almost relaxed, his gaze fixed on some invisible point on the horizon. he brushes past her as though they are strangers, shoulder purposely bumping her to the side. it is easy to track his broad, tall figure as it moves through the crowd, making his way to the very front. she barely registers the feedback of the microphone, the southern drawl, the polite, rehearsed laughs of the audience. he's going to do something. he's been planning something and he has kept her out of the loop, again. elia finds herself holding her breath in anticipation, pulse racing, eyes darting between adam and firecracker. she makes the snap decision to move forward, muttering apologies under her breath as she slips past several people. when she looks back up, the familiar mop of blonde hair is gone. a split second later, the lights go out. first awkward laughter sounds, followed by a loud bang, a scuffle and the thick, heavy smell of smoke. there is a moment of confused silence just before screams fill the pitch black darkness. something has happened. elia twists around, trying to see, trying to find adam but she is pushed and pulled in every direction by the panicked crowd. a warm, rough hand finds her wrist and yanks her to freedom. she follows blindly, stumbling over what she can only assume are bodies. a gruff voice sounds in her ear. - i told you to keep your head down.

" mhmm, " she hums, nursing the drink he's made for her. for once, they are in agreement. every person on this planet has their own version of an ideal world. the majority believe in some form of equality, justice, democracy, albeit prefer wildly different ways of achieving it. violence, voting, fraud, protests, negotiation, trade... war. humanity is fucked up, but they don't hold a candle to the worst of the supes. they could destroy the world. homelander would love nothing more to sit on top of a golden throne in some ivory tower, being worshiped by whatever was left of the world. even then it won't be enough.

ella's brows raise in surprise, a light laugh ringing from her lips. " sorry - am i hearing this right ? the great caretaker admitting that he was wrong ? about moi ? " oh, she is tempting a sarcastic retort from him and she knows it. but tease though she might, she is secretly touched by the reluctantly muttered sentiment. it is good to be seen, for once; to not be underestimated and dismissed. thus far, it has always worked to her advantage. it is exactly why he has taken the risk of trusting her ( to some extent, at least ): she, the ingenue tree hugger, can slip under the radar. no one would suspect her. but the danger is greater than ever now, with homelander spiraling increasingly out of control. they need each other if they wish to bring vought down.