#mwrites

He smirked. “That stuck, huh?”

She shrugged. The little hexagon where the tiles met remained interesting.

He shook his head at his clipboard.

“General Drakon is so cavalier about that sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone thought that was your actual name if he was the one to introduce you. Still though, surviving this long?” He let out a little laugh. “That’s a lifelong nickname now, I’m sure.” 

He looked at her as if he were going to wait for acknowledgement, but then continued. 

“I’m not much of the nickname sort myself but, hey, I think I’m willing to make an exception for you.” He scratched something onto the clipboard.

“Okay.”

He tucked the clipboard back under his side and lopped himself down on the office stool. Its momentum gently wheeled him into the range of Fledge’s downturned line of sight.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

She let him slide his way into her vision and then quickly found another spot on the floor to look at. She shook her head.

“That’s fine.” He waved a hand. “I’m Dr. Alcess Alaska. I conducted your entry psionic evaluation a few sweeps ago. Couldn’t have been more than an hour or two.”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m here with you today to talk about a project proposal.”

Fledge nodded.

“So, you’re aware how even though you’re stationed here, you’re actually a member of the Imperial Psionic Corps, yes?”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m aware you’ve had some training, but do you know much about what they do?”

“A little.”

“What do you know?” he asked, in an attempt to coax a more-than-two-word response from her.

“They’re…” it felt exhausting for Fledge to even think of saying a full sentence. She breathed out. “They’re all psionics, and they do stuff for the fleet.”

“That’s the jist of it, yes.” 

“But,” he raised a finger, “They’re all very specialized psionics, not helmsmen or telekinetics or simple mind-readers. They receive individual training for their abilities.”

She knew that, of course. It was the whole reason she was a part of it. Still, she nodded.

“There’s a standard timeline for progression through the IPC’s induction, but after doing your entry evaluation I found that there’s a lot of potential with your abilities that I think deserve more unique attention.”

He started to say something else, but then cut himself off. He studied her floorlocked gaze, how her fingers crushed the paper between them.

“Fledge, do you know much about psionics? Your psionics? How they work, I mean.”

Fledge shook her head.

He drummed his fingers on the clipboard for a moment before scooting across the room to grab his bag from the counter. He opened it on his lap and set a couple things on the counter as he rooted through it, then wheeled back over to Fledge. He then reached back in and pulled out a colorful plastic brain and a small container containing a few plastic lobes. He removed the lid from the container and set it on the examination table next to Fledge, then set the bag on the floor and lifted the brain from his lap.

“Alright, so, stop me if I say anything you already know. Okay?” He waited for her acknowledgement this time, a barely perceptible nod, and then removed a blue lobe from the back of the brain, that Fledge could now see was held on with a magnet.

“This is the cucular lobe. All trolls have one, but in psionics, it’s a little larger. The shape and the other lobes it has contact with can affect the sort of abilities a psionic has and how they might control them.” Fledge watched keenly as he set the small, normal lobe on the table, and picked up a larger piece of the same color from beside her. “This one is more like yours.” The strong magnet clicked the lobe into place at the rear of the brain.

“See how it curls up past this,” his finger dragged along the brain, along marigold yellow and crimson red plastic; “the occipital lobe, and over to this one? The parietal? This is why your abilities are affected by touch, why you can ‘feel’ electromagnetic energy the way you do.” He offered her the brain. She let him pass it to her and immediately began picking off the other lobes and letting them snap back into place.

“You have what we call a material-responsive M-Type ability,” he continued, watching her play idly. “You can manipulate, but your abilities are moreso characterized by their sensitivity, your extrasensory perception, rather than their ability to make drastic physical changes. More typical of ceruleans, but yours have a certain versatility, and there’s a lot of potential I believe could be accessed through some implants and, of course, appropriate training.”

He took another piece from the container, a long, thin, curved, grey piece. He held it up.

“This is a type of foci. There’s several different kinds; you may have seen other IPC members with the foci behind their ears; those are the most common. This one is an implant and mostly invisible once installed. They allow for the observation of lobe activity, enable additional cerebral pathways, and can be used to enhance psionic ability in a number of ways.” 

He gestured for the brain. She held it out to him and he snapped on the piece, which curled from the front left of the organ back and over the cucular lobe. He withdrew his hands.

“I believe that, by using enhancements to magnify your psychic perception of electromagnetic energy, you can better control the ability. Instead of blowing up televisions and feeling static, you could…. turn the lights on and off, you could…”

---

A shot fired through the skull of the troll in front of her, spattering green viscera across the dry ground at Fledge’s feet.

She hadn’t been paying attention when the olive stepped forward and raised her weapon. Some fleet officer had been talking to whoever these trolls were about whatever they were doing-- a mutiny, maybe? -- whatever. It wasn’t Fledge’s turn. Fledge knew what the signal was, she knew how aggressive these trolls were allowed to get, and she knew what she was meant to do when either of those conditions were met. She just hadn’t done it without her gloves before. The thought had distracted her. Her hands dropped from rubbing at the nodes embedded in her wrist as the body thwapped to the ground. She didn’t need to look to know the sniper's barrel was already shoved down into the dirt, the more experienced soldier berating them— Stop, that’s what she’s for.

C’mon fledgling. Pay attention. Be here.

One pulse. Forward, 170 degree arc. This will dispel incoming psionics and ballistics, but will dissipate after about three metres.

A strong enough magnetic field through the brain is enough to disrupt regular synapse operation and cause seizures. One at the door, two on the balcony. Close the circuit, an invisible spherical tie around their head, and then release. Her fingers twitched about in front of her. It was a shot of air through her nerves, crawling down behind her eyes and across her body like a cool drink of water. Her eyes hunted around for another to show themselves. When none did, her fingers ground into her palms, deaf to her surroundings until a hand met her shoulder.

“That was good. Quicker on the pickup next time, maybe,” the officer quipped while she examined the damage, then started walking, letting her hand slip from Fledge’s shoulder. “Let’s see if whoever is inside is more reasonable,” she hummed.

Fledge followed as the others behind her dealt the finishing blow to the incapacitated troll near the door, another that fell from the balcony. Her mind began to warm again. She lifted the edge of her jacket, touching the bit of green flecked onto the edges. Would that wash out?

---

Alaska waved a hand as if to catch an answer from the air “...move ferromagnetic material. Just… apply magnetic fields and induce current more deliberately, precisely.”

She turned the brain gently in her hands, her thumb ran over the implant. A piece of metal in her head?

“We wouldn’t start with the foci, since your brain is still developing, but it would definitely be a part of this at some point. For now, I think it’d be best to do more research first. Like, where and how exactly do you feel electromagnetic energy?”

He raised a hand as her mouth opened. Ah, one of those not-question questions.

“I’m sure it’s hard to explain,” he continued, “but we can observe it. Before we can enhance, we would get you some peripherals, external gear to gauge what we can.” He gestured over his arms, his clipboard now set beside her on the table. “That will allow us to finely examine the activity of your culural lobe and its relationship to your movements and nerves. I theorize that down the line it might end up being beneficial to install internal receivers in other places too, since your perception is very likely beyond what’s processed by your CL, but that can wait.”

“I have some reading for you here…” he bent down from the stool and pulled out a packet from the side of the bag. She set the brain in her lap to take it from him. “One of the documents goes over the details of this specific project, but I also included some information on focii and some articles on other MRM psionics.”

“And this—” he reached over and tapped the corner of the packet, where a small, stiff card was paper-clipped to the front. “—is my contact information, so you can message me for any follow-up questions you might have.” He smiled and his hands returned to his lap.

“Of course, if you have any questions for me now I’d be more than happy to answer them.”

She nodded slowly as she thumbed through the pages. Diagrams of brains, titles containing words she knew, others she didn’t. She had questions, she was sure, but she didn’t know what they were or how to ask them.

“None right now?”

She shook her head, not looking up from the packet in her hands.

“Alright, well if anything comes to mind, you reach out, okay? Then, when I’m back next perigee, we can go over everything again, and make a decision.”

“I’ll do it.” It seemed so obvious to her. This was why she was here. Whatever doubt she had could be addressed later.

“I like the enthusiasm,” he chuckled, “but I won’t have time to start until next perigee anyways. I’ll be ready then if you’re still on board, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You can keep the brain, if you want. I have another.” She didn’t know if she wanted it or not, but he decided for her as he lifted his bag from the floor and wheeled his chair over to the counter to put the rest of his things away.

She followed suit with her new belongings and clicked the lid back onto the container of spare lobes. The clear box fit nicely into her jacket pocket, and she tucked the packet under her arm as Alaska had done with his clipboard. The brain stayed in her hands.

She hopped off of the examination table. Her thumb ran over the implant that curled around the organ. A fleeting thought, or maybe one of those questions she didn’t know how to verbalize, tried to etch its way to the surface, to piece itself together in her mouth, but got cut off by the doctor’s voice as he opened the door for her.

It’s not like Lucy has ever been one to mince words. She’s called him out on his own bullshit time and time again, challenging him and reminding him that there are people who care about whether or not he makes it home alive. Her honesty was one of the first things that impressed him in that fated interview. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t back down. Truth be told it has saved them all in so many ways since then, even if it may drive him and George mad from time to time.

Looking at her now, Lockwood is once again captivated by her. In her pajamas, curled up with a quilt nestled around her and a steaming cup of tea in her hand she looks so comfortable, so relaxed. She looks radiant. It makes his heart pang with adoration. He wants to capture this moment and keep reliving it for the rest of time.

Because for every moment like this that they get, there are three more where his heart is hammering in his chest with worry or panic that something bad is going to happen to the beautiful, brave, incredible girl cozied up across from him. Too many of their firsts have happened in or been born from those moments when their lives are on the line and he aches a bit to give them both some softer memories.

Lucy chuckles lightly to herself at the other end of the couch, clearly having read something of note in that book of hers. She then takes a massive bite of the biscuit in her hand and finally looks up, meeting his eyes.

“What?” Lucy asks, “I got crumbs on my jumper or something?”

Lockwood laughs, “No, nothing like that. I just…I love you, that’s all.”

“Oh is that all?” She sits up and puts her book down next to her, a grin splitting across her face but also a hint of exasperation in her voice.

He feels himself blushing slightly, and looks down at his hands before glancing back up at her.

“Yes, well I know that sometimes I’m not the best at…articulating what I’m feeling. But I wanted to get it on the record and all that.”

“Lockwood I — “ she starts, scooting close and reaching out to take his hands in hers.

But he’s already on a roll. “I just realized I had never actually said it out loud and, well, we’ve put off a lot of other things until we’re in the thick of it and I wanted to make sure I told you now and not when we’re, you know, fighting for our lives. Point being, I don’t want that to be one more thing I’ve left unsaid.”

He’s really started rambling now, because her eyes have gone wide with something bordering on disbelief. Lucy is giving him a look that tells him she had absolutely no idea he’s been head over heels for her for…shit he doesn’t even know how long. Long enough that loving her feels as natural as breathing.

“Oh come off it Luce, you know I’ve been in love with you for a damn long time now.”

Her response comes out as a half laugh, half shout, and she smacks him with a throw pillow, “I did not, you idiot!”

Lockwood suddenly turns deadly serious, desperately needing her to understand how much he means this. How he is truly deeply, irrevocably in love. “Lucy, you make me feel seen and cared for in a way that for a long time, I didn’t think would ever be possible again. Even when everything is hard and frankly terrifying, I am still so glad you stormed into my life. I love you.”

At this, Lucy moves one hand to his face, rubbing her thumb softly along his cheekbone and looking at him with such longing and tenderness that he feels like he might just fall in love with her all over again. Lockwood slowly closes the distance between the two of them and kisses her like he’s drowning and she’s a breath of fresh air.

Inej took a deep breath and stretched her limbs and mind before turning to the mussed hair and ruffled clothes of the boy next to her. There was a time when this scene would have been as startling as it had been to first see his hands bare against his cane. Long ago, she thought she would never know him like this. Never see him restful and relaxed. Kaz always started nights laying on his back, hands clasped on his chest, eyes on the ceiling. She assumed it was habit from years of resting without sleeping or sleeping with his guard up. But morning Kaz revealed the beautiful boy beneath the armor.

A few years ago she stopped staying at the Van Eck mansion and had started staying with Kaz. In the beginning, it was a lot of sleepless nights. It was both of them learning how to share a bed with someone and learning how to take down this piece of their armor. But now...she grinned at the sight. Every morning now, and for a while, she found Kaz asleep on his chest, limbs sprawling and face soft. On one occasion, although she wouldn’t dare mention it to another soul, he was drooling. On these mornings Kaz Brekker, the bastard of the barrel, was replaced by a sleepy boy in total comfort.

She reached out and gently brushed a few tufts of hair away from his face. He stirred and released a deep sigh.

“What time is it?” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Just after 5 bells.”

“I see the sun has rudely decided to awake, I could use a few more hours of sleep.” He turned on his side to face her, one hand tucked beneath the pillow and the other carefully placed between them.

She hummed and reached for him slowly, gently brushing his knuckles with her fingertips. “You should rest then.”

“Does the captain have anything pressing today?”

“No more than the Barrell Boss.”

“Stay here with me today, I can get Pim to send a runner to get us waffles.”

The morning sun glowed golden on the miracle before her. Kaz looked...at ease, open...hopeful. It made her heart flutter in her chest.

“For you, I would stay even without the promise of waffles. But I will appreciate and enjoy them nonetheless.”