#reader x lodi

The Nine overwhelm him before he can resist, their voices a cacophony clamoring to be heard, in tones so high and low it can only be felt in the space between atoms; yet he still understands. When he screams, he collides with and splits from himself again and again and again.

PETULANT CHILD OF ZEPHYR AND MUD, YOU DARE TO DEMAND REPARATION?

What is done, cannot be undone without significant repercussion to the timeline.

Intervention is necessary - you cannot yet see - what we have

Connection = a gift from three = non-negotiable = temporary state = necessary for transition

a gift of good faith + revocation of appanage + do you desire release

K N O W Y O U R P L A C E A S A  W O R K E R I N T H E H I V E A C Q U I E S C E S T O D E S P O T O R D E R

WILL YOU COMPLY EMISSARY OR MUST JUDGEMENT REND WILL FROM BONE

Lodi grinds his teeth and presses his hands to his ears, but the noise is coming from within, vibrating his very electrons. Blood pours from his ears and down his jaw, catching in the hairs of his grown-out five-o’clock shadow before dripping onto his capelet, where it hisses and evaporates. He can barely handle all of them at once, it’s too much.

.SILENCE YOUR | GAPING MAWS. .This one|is doing us|a service. .Let us hear wha|t he has to say.

All versions of himself reassemble in a snap as the noise ceases, and the pressure in his head expands outward as his feet lift off the ground. Lodi floats up into the sky, weightless, cold, through the vacuum of Eternity, tumbling and flipping uncontrollably until his body jerks to a stop and freezes, strung up like a puppet on its strings. Above him in the distance, something unrecognizeable speaks in photons and coronal ejections. 

.what is it|starlight? .have we not adequately a|betted your adjustment?

Abetted? It’s so hard for him to remember what he wanted to say when all he can think about is how he can’t breathe but doesn’t need to. Is he still in his mind? Or is this really happening? Everything feels so real, but the laws of physics are clearly askance. He tries to straighten up but only writhes in his invisible bonds.

.come on now|out with it. .don’t|be shy.

“Orin was right then. You are allowing me to communicate with the past...? Why?”

.three surmised that|you would struggle to|adjust to your station with|out closure. .to ensure your tran|scendence we have|made allowances.

a transient agent = communication will cease

Transient? He furrows his brow. “So… it’s not permanent?”

.nothing lasts for|ever darling.

Lodi scoffs and seethes. “Then why bother letting me have this at all? You know how much I’ve already lost… how it’s affected me.” He pauses a beat and changes direction. “What good am I to you if I’m too broken to do what you need me for?”

There are other ways for us to get what we need, should you prove incapable of this task of your own accord.

His body tenses and his throat clenches. “… you mean like with Orin…”

.would you pref|er to relinquish|our gift to you?

“NO!” he shouts before they even finish the question. “… No… please… I’m not complaining, I just don’t understand… why would you allow me to get attached if you’re just going to take them away?”

we facilitated connection - in business only - it was you who decided to form an attachment

“Decided?” he laughs derisively. “Do you know nothing of humanity? People don’t decide who they get attached to, sometimes it just happens!”

irrational + inconsequential to purpose + observational query + why do you resist

“Because-“ His words catch in his throat and he waits for his nerves to settle. “… this isn’t what I signed up for and I know there’s no going back for me now, but for THEM…?” Lodi’s face drops and hardens before turning defiant eyes back to the stars. “No! You can’t do this, I won’t allow it.”

The next to speak to him lifts him higher still, presses phantom fingers into his throat. His vision darkens at the corners and starts to spin as his heart struggles to pump blood to his brain.

ALLOW? DOES THE WORM ALLOW THE MYCELLIUM TO CONSUME THAT WHICH NOURISHES THE LOAM? IT IS BEYOND YOUR ABILITY TO CONTROL.

.RELEASE|HIM FOUR. .CONTAIN|YOURSELF.

Lodi releases a cry of relief and hangs his head as his blood pressure stabilizes, feeling the need to catch his breath even though he hasn’t needed to take one since arriving.

.time is|not linear. .you see what|has already tran|spired. .past and|present. .this is p|retense. .you know you|r demand is im|possible. .you have se|en it with you|r own eyes.

He grimaces and shakes his head, unable to contain his vexation, and loosens his tongue. “So then delay it, I don’t care, do SOMETHING! Just- let them LIVE, for pete’s sake! They’ve been through ENOUGH!”

.all of whi|ch will be|forgotten.

“That doesn’t MATTER!” he sputters, voice cracking and tears in his eyes. “Human life is SACRED, you can’t just use us like pawns in your sadistic game!”

.sadis|tic? .what is one li|fe weighed again|st extinction? .this is th|e only way.

“I don’t believe you,” he insists with unflinching resolve. “Prove it.”

Lodi grits through a groan as the Nine fill his mind with what they have foreseen, in this timeline and all other potential branches, from the moments of your theoretical deaths. Millions of possibilities, splitting and entwining endlessly until they overwhelm the lucid path. He can see it all happening at once, your death is a fixed point, invariably tied to the survival of the human race- the crushed butterfly that sets off a ripple across time that cannot be stopped. Those where the Nine had left you alone, ended catastrophically for humanity, while others where they had orchestrated your death later, had ended still but without the distinct touch of horrors from the others. Systematically, these alternate timelines are pruned, until one truth remains: that humanity only survives if they intervene in your life where they already have. 

By the time the sideshow ends, tears stream down Lodi’s face, but he doesn’t cry or whinge. He understands there’s no point in tiring himself out by continuing to fight the current, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t devastated by the revelation. The Nine release him, and his body lowers in slow descent and comes to rest on his knees in the sand, where he sits onto his heels then collapses forward onto his elbows, clenching his hands into balled fists around the shifting grains. 

.we suggest you ma|ke the most of your|time while you can. 

“Wait .”

Lodi struggles to summon what little strength he has left, and pushes himself upright onto one wobbly hand so he can look up into the sky. “If you won’t change their fate, at least let me give them a proper send-off. Open the connection, all the way. Don’t hold back.” He wanted so badly to save you from befalling the same fate as he and Nella, but he knows now can’t save you anymore than he can save himself; but at the very least, he could give you a better end.

The delegate Nine lets out a low hum of approval, and a warm gust brushes across Lodi’s cheek.

.my littl|e martyr. .so eager to self|immolate to warm the|bosons of another. .we will gra|nt you this. .and only th|is request. .but do not neg|lect your dut|ies on Kepler. .or we will|rescind it.

He’s returned to the same moment from which he was stolen, and you’ve barely even finished saying your name when he comes back to his senses, a haunted look in his eyes.

Louis?

Lodi doesn’t know where to even start with what he’s just experienced. He’s still processing the trauma of seeing an endless epoch of humanity’s potential ends, and somehow at the center of it all, you ; he’s barely breathing, and what does leave his lungs is petrified with dread. It takes almost a minute for his eyes to focus, and when they do, all he can see is a ticking clock counting down how much time he has left before the Nine cut him off. What were you even talking about…? He can barely remember.

Oh, yes, your name.

He reaches out one hand, waits for you to take it, then clasps the other over the top and gives it a firm shake with a conflicted smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” Knowing what he does now, there’s no time to waste grieving what hasn’t yet happened. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

You smile and return the gesture. It seems silly shaking hands for the first time. I think we’re well past that by now.

He chuckles and leans back onto the grass on his elbows, gazing up at the starry sky as it comes into clearer view. At least the Nine are holding up their end of the bargain. “You know- this is the second time in the last week that that’s happened. My introductions aren’t usually so informal.”

Mine are, you say, laying down in the grass beside him and laying your hands over your belly. I prefer to skip pleasantries, something about forcing scripted conversation is just so… impersonal.

“I prefer to call it respectful,” he says, his thoughts drifting to how consistent he had to be with Nella to get her to even give him the time of day. “Not everyone you meet wants to get personal right away. You have to give them time to warm up.”

Unlike someone I know, you tease. So are you saying you’d rather I ask you questions that are a little less “personal”?

The space around you in your communal daydream continues to slowly reveal itself, and he realizes you’re lakeside in his memories. He only hopes you can see it too. Louis turns his head to look at you with a boyish grin. “I mean… that is how you get to know someone.”

Your eyes drift out of focus, then away and around as the daydream solidifies for you. Where are we…?

“Home,” he says with a hint of nostalgia. “My family used to spend a lot of time at this lake during the summer.”

It’s beautiful, you murmur, sitting upright and leaning over curled knees to get a better view. What was your favorite thing to do?

The words start to catch in his throat but he swallows them down. “I used to fish with my brother, the kids liked to swim and play tag with water balloons. My mama would make the best damn walleye ceviche you’ll ever have.”

That sounds so wonderful. You smile, radiant and comforting, and close your eyes. I used to deep-sea fish with my pop… fish tacos were more his thing but, he did make a pretty great shrimp ceviche.

There are tears in his eyes again, and he tries his best to hide the trembling in his breath. Lodi understands why it had to be you, but he wishes it didn’t. “You seem like you know a fair bit about chicanos.”

I mean… You shrug as your voice trails off, and you lean back with your hands behind your body. I’m not fluent in Spanish, and I’ve never been part of any Latino holiday celebrations- but I grew up two hours from the border, where the population was quite dense. And well, my first serious boyfriend—and girlfriend—both came from Mexican families.

His brows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

Yeah. She lived in Mexico, and his dad was white but his mom’s side was traditional- first gathering with his whole family was… overwhelming. It’s not my culture, but to say it hasn’t had an impact on my development would be a lie. You pause and twiddle your fingers timidly, before shifting your eyes away from him. I even took a Salsa and Swing class in college for fun… they taught us how to Cha-cha and Merengue too.

“So you know how to dance then?” he asks, eyes sparkling with interest.

You laugh. It’s been years, but yes.

“Did your partner ever dance with you?”

Some of the light leaves your eyes as you shake your head and lay back down in the grass. Only our first dance at our wedding… I could never get him to after that.

“Well that just won’t do,” he declares, offended on your behalf. “What kind of man won’t dance with their partner?”

Most men these days, you admit with a slight grimace. Unfortunately, the bar is in hell, so finding a man that is patient, kind, emotionally mature, and wants to dance is like finding a unicorn.

Lodi screams internally at his misfortune. It’s far too painful to think about what could have been, had you been born in the same time period, but he can’t help it because you’re just the kind of person he would have loved to bring home to meet his family. You would have fit in so naturally.

Louis?

You pull him from his thoughts, and when he looks at you again, you’ve rolled closer on your side, face inches from his. His heart leaps to his throat and he swallows it down but it just continues to race dizzying circles in his chest, which only worsens when you inch your hand over and graze his chin with the backs of your knuckles. Lodi takes in a small, sharp breath and closes his eyes, then relaxes on the exhale as you continue to trace them across the stubble of his beard. He’d never realized how touch-starved he was until now, how even the smallest gestures supported the weight of years of loneliness and the freshest grief. Despite being lost in his own thoughts, it doesn’t get past him how long the silence pervades.

“¿Que le preocupa? ”

You say nothing but he can hear you struggling to find the words, feel the quiver traveling up your arm from your body.

I would have really loved to date you properly.

Did he just hear you correctly?

When he opens his eyes you’re staring into them, raising his internal temperature. Fear warns against further attachment, but he’s more afraid of missing out on something good. Lodi rolls to fully face you, shifts and pulls the glove off one of his hands, then reaches up to curl it around yours.

“It's enough just to know you now.”

He threads his fingers, presses the warmth of his palm to the back of your hand, and looks back into your eyes fervently. The way your eyelids flutter and your eyes well up at this gesture embolden him, but he waits, out of courtesy. What you have is real enough, you said it yourself just a few days prior, and he knows you still believe it by the way you falter and inch closer. 

But this can’t last, you say after half a minute. We can’t have a life together, you’ll never meet my family or friends, and I’ll never meet yours- at some point, this will end, and we’ll have to go back to our real lives and move on.

“Of course,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your nose, your cheeks, your lips, then back up. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t make the best of the time we have.”

You withdraw slightly, and he can see the tension in your body language. He isn’t sure what he did, but his stomach knots and he backpedals nervously. “Sorry… too much?”

No, you assure, which does put him at ease, It’s not you, it’s just-… You pause for what feels like an eternity before saying what you want to say. I’m scared.

Louis can’t possibly fathom being married for that long and having to re-enter the dating pool again. It’s been years since he was even able to hold down a stable relationship between college and his job at the DEO, so he understands the need for taking time for yourself.

All I know right now is, you’re the kindest man I’ve met in a very long time, and it’s not just a mask, which is why I like you so much. You smile at him with adoration he’s only ever seen from a few women in his life, and it makes him want this even more. I’m healing but I’m still unhealed. The last thing I want is to jump into a relationship too soon and end up hurting you.

“I don’t think you will,” he says in a way that makes you think he knows something you don’t, “but remember what I said before?”

You sigh, though he can tell it’s just a self-soothing behavior. Leave it up to you to decide?

“That’s right,” he says in a gentle tone, and reaches up to brush the backs of his fingertips across your cheek. “You’ve said your piece, so now it’s up to me to decide whether or not you’re worth the risk.”

Your eyes flit away nervously despite trying to focus on him. Do you need time to form a conclusion or…?

Lodi tilts his head and gives into the quiet as he watches you wait with bated breath, but doesn’t make you wait too long for an answer. Just long enough that he doesn’t seem desperate. He returns the adoring grin you’d given him earlier.

“I think I would have loved to introduce you to my family, were it possible." There’s a profound sadness in his eyes as he admits this, and his voice falters when he adds, “They would have loved you.”

Your eyes well up as your cheeks flush, you return the smile, close your eyes, and lean your cheek heavily into his hand. You would have got on with my family really well too, you say, then laugh at the thought. I think my dad would have actually liked you.

“That’s high praise,” he grins.

It is, he’s really traditional.

Silence settles between you again, this time more comfortable, and so close your noses would touch if you just lifted your chin or craned your neck. Louis continues to stroke his fingertips across your forehead, over your cheek, and down your jawline. “So, dinner’s out of the question, but we could go to the record store.”

We could still share recipes… and watch movies.

“Y bailas conmigo.”

You sprout a big, bashful smile. Yes please, I’m really excited to.

“Well, it’s getting late for you,” he reminds, “You should get home before you fall asleep in your car.”

Ugh, thank you for reminding me… I don’t want to leave yet, but I should.

Lodi cracks an understanding smile. He doesn’t want you to leave either. “I’ll see you again in a few days.”

Hopefully sooner, you say as you hover above him, looking down, and reach to run your fingers through his hair. You’re the best part of my week right now.

His heart flutters again and he closes his eyes with a relaxed sigh. It’s been far too long since he’s felt so wanted. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Your nose brushes alongside his and before he has time to react, he feels your lips pressed to his in a soft, lingering kiss that draws out a quiet whimper and sets him alight from the inside out. 

Everything inside of him sings, your electrons harmonize with his across time. This moment is then but also now, and always is- not temporary, but eternal. He feels it now.

Lodi’s bare hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, just to let you know he wants more, but it’s your call. He expects you to break away but at this you lean in a little more and sigh against his lips. How badly he wishes he could call you his.

Your lips part but you stay like this, a breath away, for several moments more, until he finally opens his eyes and looks up into yours with newfound confidence curling at the corners of his lips.

“Hello to you too.”

You bite your lip and glance away. That was okay then?

Lodi sits up and pulls you onto his lap, leans forward and presses his forehead to yours as he gazes deep into your eyes. “¿Qué te parece?”

You blush again and stifle a little laugh. I should really get going.

He chuckles and squeezes his hands over your thighs. “!Orale! Before you get stuck here for good,” he teases as you feign an exasperated sigh, stand and brush yourself off.

Sí, Señor, ya me voy.

Louis can’t help but bawl at your flawless pronunciation. A big, goofy grin breaks across his face and his heart swells with pride. “¿Que fue eso? ¿Hablaste español? ¡Que buena pronunciación! Di ostra cosa, rapido-“

Sorry, you’re just going to have to wait, you chuckle and flick your fingertips under his chin to scratch at his beard, sending a shiver down his spine. It’s gonna take time to come back to me.

“We’ll have to practice then. For now, get home safely.” He knows you will, but he says it anyway.

I will, see you soon.

You disappear from his memory, leaving him alone by the lakefront, but not lonely. This time he sees his brother fishing by the shore, his niece and nephew chasing each other, their laughter echoing like they were here just yesterday. He smells the smoke from the grill, hears his mother chopping vegetables and sees his brother’s wife painting the sunset through the trees. 

And above it all, he can hear a song from one of his old records.

Por eso tú

Tú serás me baby

Solo tú, mi baby

Baby de mi alma, oh-uoh-uoh-uoh

At some point during your talks, your foster cat had taken up residence on your lap, curled up and gone to sleep. He’s such a sweet angel who always knows when you’re not okay, more so than anyone in your life ever has. While you love and appreciate him, it does make your heart ache for that kind of human connection.

Instead of completely moving him, you settle for little micro-movements and wiggle and shift your way into a slightly more comfortable position, then get to digging a little deeper into Agent Louis Yero’s disappearance, and what became of his family after he disappeared.

First, you find his obituary, which wasn’t officially published until 1969, several years after his disappearance.

Beloved Son, Uncle, and American Patriot. 

That sure didn’t sound like the obituary of someone whose family was angry with them, especially considering how long it had been published after he was first reported missing. 

You dig up a few more sparse articles, no more than a paragraph or two in length leading up to it, some “missing persons” columns with his picture (which looks SO different from the man you know, but you can still recognize him), and a UFO tabloid connecting his disappearance with that of one his coworkers’, by the name of Dr. Nella Davis. 

You take note of all this and save the pages, then move on to his family’s lives once they’d moved on and accepted his death.

Finding information on his family was easier said than done, even with online census records. All you can scrape together is a little more information about the nature of his mother’s death (passed in ‘93 of natural causes), and his brother’s wife’s death (cancer, ‘90). But when you dig a little deeper into some reddit discussions surrounding The Curious Case of Louis Yero, you strike gold.

Some enthusiasts (read: fanatics) had sifted through public records and found more specific information on his family. His nephew Phillip had followed in his footsteps and joined the Military, went to college when he got out, earned his degree in Aerospace Engineering, and landed a job working for NASA in the mid 80’s. The original poster insinuated that he’d never truly got over the loss of his Uncle Louis, and after watching Apollo 11 land on the moon for the first time, he knew he’d found his calling.

Benito had come out as gay in the early eighties, launching a career as a grunge artist and fashionista that was short-lived, but had continued to work in Chicago as a political activist fighting to protect LGBTQ Youth and Women’s rights until his retirement.

His niece, Betty, led a less glamorous, but a peaceful life in the suburbs of Des Plaines- she’d gotten married and had three kids of her own. His brother Ben had followed Betty and her family out of Chicago, and bought himself a small place in the woods close by to live out the rest of his days closer to his grandchildren.

You smile to yourself quietly, knowing that at least this—knowing the kids are doing fine, and that he was loved—would bring him some comfort.

By the next time he does make contact, you’ve almost lost track of the days. Life hasn’t exactly been easy, between work and your home life you’re being hammered on all sides by stress. Your partner is still out cheating, though this time doing even less to hide their affair. The very next weekend, they’d come home from work, packed an overnight bag for themselves AND their dogs, and took off for two days with them. It had taken everything you had not to confront them, but you managed to instead write it down in your logbook and go about your business. You know the more you let them do what they’re going to do, the more likely they are to screw up, and at this point that’s what it’s going to take to win a case against them.

Lodi shows up while you’re out with some friends and startles you as he collapses into the seat beside you, facing behind you, and faceplants into your shoulder. His energy feels off tonight, low and sad, and you wonder what could have happened to your sweet, sunny friend.

“Hey Louis,” you greet and cross an imaginary arm around his shoulders to run your fingers through his hair. “What’s wrong? ”

He doesn’t answer, but groans as you softly scratch his scalp with your nails. Something about the way he does this that tells you he’s going to need all of your attention, but luckily, the night is winding down and it’s an appropriate time to say your goodbyes. 

“Just give me ten minutes, and I’m all yours.”

He nods to signal he heard you, but doesn’t lift his head.

You finish the drink you’ve been nursing for the last hour, thank your friends for inviting you out, pay your tab, then head to your car, head on a swivel. With one last glance over your shoulder, you pop open the door, sit down in the driver’s seat, lock the doors, lean your chair all the way back and close your eyes, to give him your undivided attention. Lodi still hasn’t moved from where he landed in the daydream, so you ruffle his hair to get his attention. “Alright, what is it babygirl?”

Lodi forces a small smile as he lifts his head. You can tell by how red his face is that he’s been suppressing his cries, and you can’t help but wither at how downtrodden he is. Your hands drop to your lap and you turn to face him.

I just-… he pauses to swallow the rock forming in his throat. I did try to go back further… to find my mother.

Oh... So either he saw something that really hurt him, or he couldn’t do it. You place a hand over his and give it a soft squeeze. “And…?”

… I saw-… time scars… he struggles to explain, and turns his chin up to look at something above your head, and both of his eyes start to glow. Not- what happened when I was gone, but- memories of-… of times we had before? Like- holidays, and-and birthdays… Again, he gulps more audibly and groans, pushing down the sickness rising in his gut. I saw my old war buddies, my… room, my brother, I-… 

His form flickers in and out of solid state and you realize why it’s been so much longer since the last time you heard from him. He can hardly keep himself focused to stay in the moment.

You reach up to brace both hands on his destabilizing shoulders as his eyes flit around nervously, refusing to make eye contact. His form ripples under your touch, cool and half-gaseous, and you give him a gentle shake. You have no idea if it will work, but you assume the mental chaos has something to do with the way he’s projecting; luckily, you learned a lot in therapy about self-regulation. 

“Louis, stay focused. Don’t chase the rabbit.”

It’s an idiom he recognizes, and it helps to release him from his trance- his head tilts down, his eyes start to focus on you as they lose a little bit of their glow and settle back to their natural color. The light cracks in the skin around his left eye dim but remain. You’re worried about him, wondering if these changes are also manifesting physically and not just mentally, but you can’t help but find him beautiful in the ethereal sense.

“Good, keep breathing.”

Lodi’s body takes and keeps its shape after about a minute, he blinks heavily and releases the vapor from his lungs as everything solidifies. When you relax your arms, his head drops and he pitches forward, but you catch him before he falls out of his seat, and his shaking hands snap up to help. 

“Are you alright?”

Lodi groans and gags, blinks hard and nods, then finds his calm again after a few moments to catch his breath. He presses his glasses up his nose and glances at you timidly before focusing his attention over your shoulder at something he can’t see but desperately wants to.

… they won’t let me see them, he finally says after a long pause.

“Who won’t?”

The Nine.

You blank- he hasn’t mentioned any Nine, that you can remember. “… who-who is that? Is that who took you from your family and made you into their…”

Emissary… yeah, he says. 

Your shoulders drop and your stomach churns. You don’t even know who the Nine are, but you know you don’t like the way they’ve been jerking him around. “Why the hell not?”

They won’t say. His eyes lower even further and you can feel his disappointment, nipping at the back of your consciousness like tiny teeth. It has you seething and brimming with rage.

“You can’t just uproot someone from their life without their consent.”

There was… some consent, he admits.

“Some? What does that mean?”

Lodi’s eyes focus on you as he comes back to himself completely. They spoke to me, in my dreams.

“But did they ever tell you what they wanted?”

Louis shakes his head and lowers his eyes. Of course they didn’t.

“Then that’s  horseshit,” you snap, hoping he knows it’s not directed at him. “You can’t just take someone without telling them what they’re signing up for. That’s kidnapping and abuse!”

The Nine don’t live by our laws, nor do they care about my feelings, he says tiredly.

“Yeah well they should!”

You didn’t mean to shout and you immediately regret it. Your hands slide down his arms and retreat back to your lap, your chest and throat tighten, and you start to backpedal. “… I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I was just-“

It’s alright. Lodi stops you before you can get yourself too worked up, gently sets a hand on your shoulder and waits for you to look at him. I’ve already been down that train of thought, all it did was make me angry.

Your eyes start to well up as the pressure in your head builds. You’ve been in a relationship with a narcissist for more than ten years, and it kills you to see the similarities in his situation. 

I know it’s hard to understand.

“There’s not much to understand,” you reply, doing your best to monitor your tone. “They’re trying to take you for everything you have and give nothing back. I’ve been in a relationship like that for longer than I want to admit, and I know the signs, so I hate knowing that you’re stuck there… with your abusers…”

Waiting to be used. That’s what bothers you the most, you realize. Not only that he’d been taken from his family, that he was there alone, but that he was in an abusive power dynamic with these Nine, who only wanted him for his body.

Louis smiles sadly and squeezes your shoulder. I appreciate your concern, he says almost too familiarly, but there’s really nothing I can do except… make the best of what I’ve got.

You push down the pain you feel when he says it, because as much as you want him to fight it, it’s clear he’s resigned himself to his reality. “And what do you have?”

I have a small community of good people here… and a few Guardian-friends.

You tilt your head. “What's a Guardian?”

He stammers, It’s-… hard to explain, but long story short- they’re immortal, soldier-types, that protect humanity.

You ‘ahhh’ out loud even though you don’t really understand how it’s possible. “So like… they winter-soldiered people?”

He throws you a perplexed look, and you facepalm when you realize.

“Ah, sorry… Bucky Barnes- it was a Captain America plot-line, way after your time…“

His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning when you mention comic books and you grin wildly, knowing that you’ve read him right. “Oh Louis, you’ve missed out on so much. Comic books have entire movie and television shows based off of them now. I can’t wait to catch you up.”

Louis can’t hide the infectious grin spreading across his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it. I’m looking forward to it.

Your heart flutters again, and you can’t help but smile back.

I’m glad it was you, he says honestly after an extended silence.

You blush but stay with the thought. “What do you mean me?”

Louis shifts in his seat beside you and repeats himself. I’m glad it was you I found when I looked back in time.

“But you could have connected with anyone else, people so much more interesting than me, even your family,” you try to rationalize, so as to not get your hopes up. “What makes me so special?”

I think you’re their compromise, he says thoughtfully as he lays back with one hand under his head and the other over his belly. I think part of the problem is… I have so many questions that my mother couldn’t possibly have answered on her own, so they found someone who could.

“But why me?” you ask again. 

The time period maybe...? Lodi shakes his head and looks at you with an unreadable expression that doesn’t match what he says next. I couldn’t tell you… but the Nine don’t do anything that doesn't serve a purpose.

Your expression sours at the thought. For a moment you fix a hard look at the liminal space surrounding the two of you, wishing it could be more than just the ground beneath you. “Well, I refuse be a pawn in their game.”

He smiles quietly. If your life has already been altered by their meddling… which it has, you’re already being led by them.

You shake your head and lie down into the grass beside him. “I like to think I make my own fate… but hey, on another note- I did some research on your family while you were gone.”

Louis’ brows lift as he turns his head to regard you with interest. You did…?

You nod and pull out your phone. “I couldn’t find much with the limited records available online, but I found enough to tell you what their lives were like,” you say with a warm smile as his eyes start to shine again like glass. “Do you want to know?”

Louis nods excitedly, scrambles to sit upright and pulls out the same field notebook he took notes in last time, and listens intently to everything you have for him.

He huffs and puffs with pride when you tell him Phillip worked for NASA, when you tell him about Betty his lip quivers. When you tell him about his sister-in-law’s fight with cancer and his mother’s death just a few years later, he lifts a hand to claw over his heart in a self-soothing motion. And by the time you read his obituary, he’s taken off his glasses and pressed his fingers into his eyes, tears falling onto the pages of his notebook. 

You sit up and cup a hand over his elbow. “Are you alright?”

He fails to hold back his sobs, takes in a gasping breath and slaps a hand over his mouth, then releases the breath he didn't realize he's been holding and laughs through it with a relieved smile. Lodi presses his fingers into his brow harder to soothe the headache. 

I’m fine… I’m just-… he sits up straight and breathes deep, then lets it out slowly. … my family’s alright..! You have… no idea how much I needed to hear that.

“You’re right, I don’t, but I could tell that not knowing was eating you alive.” And you could tell, the same way you could tell this was what he needed to hear. Lodi was grieving—properly—now, not just repressing the resentment of not having said goodbye. “I know it’s not the same, but-… I hope it gives you closure, and comfort, knowing they loved you, and they lived the best they could in your absence.”

Yeah… yeah they did, they really, really did… When he turns to look at you his eyes twinkle with admiration, and before you know it he throws his arms around you and locks you in a big hug. 

I can’t believe you did this, it's is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me… I can’t thank you enough.

You return the gesture with a tight hug, and turn your cheek to brush his affectionately. “You deserve it, and so much more.”

Lodi tightens his hold and for a moment you think you can feel his heart beating just out-of-sync with yours. Gods, is this what love and consideration is supposed to feel like when both parties are committed to caring for each others’ well-being? 

He pulls back and takes in a deep, steadying breath, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand one more time and puts his glasses back on.

You know… you've done so much for me, and- I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m so embarrassed but-… I don’t even know your name.

You blink in surprise. You’ve no idea how you managed to go so long without exchanging proper pleasantries. “Yeah, I guess we skipped right over that part, didn’t we?” 

As you introduce yourself, formally, the same unreadable look from before flashes in his eyes again, like he’s meeting you for the first time, but not.

But, this is still different- he’s not even a person typing on the other end of a text chat or on the other end of a video call, he’s a voice in your head, a daydream, a Fantasy.

… with a mind and a life of his own. But what if he isn’t real? What if you are just making it all up because you’re so lonely? The last thing you need right now is to be sectioned, cut off from your friends, family, and animals. As weird as it is to say, you’d even hate to be cut off from work, because it’s been the most effective at keeping your mind off wherever your soon-to-be ex is (and with who).

You open your eyes and take in a deep breath before exhaling hard and annoyed at the thought as you do your best to push it aside, bringing your focus back to the man you were just speaking to. It’s strange but now that he’s gone, you can feel the empty space he occupied growing cold, like a temperature drop before an oncoming storm. You know that if you don’t fall asleep soon, while focusing on what you want to, you’ll start to ruminate again. It’s a silly coping mechanism that you’ve been using most of your life, but daydreaming as you fall asleep has helped you out more than enough times in your life that it’s at least reliable.

You try to focus on the sound of his voice, the warmth in his tone, the youthful curiosity, the familiar pain of loss that helps you feel less alone in your own grief. 

In your mind, he’s telling you you’re not alone. He’s telling you you’ll be okay. He’s telling you you’re still worthy to find the love you deserve.

You ask him how you could possibly find love in someone else when you can’t even love yourself.

And he goes quiet. He doesn’t know how to help you love yourself, because you need that validation to come from within.

It’s therapy-speak, so you know it’s your own mind processing through what you think you need to hear, but it helps to imagine it coming from someone whose opinion you value.

Why can’t you trust your own insight? 

Because if I blindly trust my own experience without validating others’, I become the narcissist.

And how do you know you’re not a narcissist that’s become so good at intellectualizing your own emotions, you’ve gaslit yourself into thinking you’re the victim?

Your eyes tear open, your heart beating so hard it palpates in your chest. Tears well up at the corners of your eyes, the pressure starts to build in your head. This isn’t the first time you’ve been down this path of self-reflection and it won’t be the last.

You hold in the overwhelming urge to cry, and try to remember that narcissists cannot self-reflect, and that what you’re experiencing now is the result of long-term exposure to emotional manipulation. Putting your abuser’s needs ahead of your own as a knee-jerk reaction to feeling too comfortable, and taking the blame for everything just to keep the peace.

You’ve done an admirable job deprogramming from years of conditioning, but you haven’t fully recovered and relapse is still part of the process. For too long your perception of reality has been turned upside down, but now you’re breaking free, you’re doing better at recognizing when you’re not being kind enough to yourself.

I’m proud of you, Cariño.

That thought is all it takes to turn tears of pain into tears of relief. When you close your eyes again, you push the tears out of them and settle down deep into your mattress. Maybe he will keep his promise, maybe he will come back for you.

To your surprise, a few days later, during your post-work siesta, you know he’s made good on it. You can tell by the way the roiling chaos in your mind opens up into peaceful clarity just before you hear his voice.

Hello? Are you there?

In your mind’s eye, you see a man with sideswept brown hair, vintage black horn-rimmed glasses, red and silver robes, and a five-o’clock shadow pacing in liminal space, hands above his head. Without opening your eyes, you break into a wide smile.

“Lodi?”

He stops pacing and looks toward you with mismatched brown and (glowing?) blue eyes, as wide and as bright as the sun. 

I did it…? I really did it! He laughs and throws his hands up with ecstatic flair, then takes a moment to simmer down and launches right into an apology. I’m so so so sorry about before, some things happened that I needed to work out immediately, and then I had a hard time figuring out how to find you again and at the right point in TIME, but- Lodi stops to catch his breath and grins crooked. I think I’ve got it now.

“Yeah you do,” you titter. “I can hear you much clearer this time. And, I can actually see you. Are those- choir robes?”

His reaction is delayed, conveying the extent of his surprise, but he laughs with his whole chest at the question and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. Ah… I know, fashion in the future- is not great.

“I mean, it could be a lot worse,” you say, thinking about futuristic ‘ring fashion’ and the post-apocalyptic urban styles you’ve seen in so many movies that make people look homeless. 

I don’t know… I mean, when you think of the future, is ‘altar boy space wizard’ the first thing that comes to mind? Cause, it isn’t for me.

Your smile reaches your eyes, and you laugh with all your heart for the first time in what feels like eons. You want to savor this moment, bottle it up and take a hit when you’re feeling desperately alone. 

His boyish grin relaxes into the kind of smile that could light up even the darkest room, and you let out a quiet, wistful sigh.

You sound like you’re in much better spirits than when I left you.

You weren’t, until now, but smother the urge to say it. “Well to be honest, I didn’t know if you were really coming back… so you just made my whole week.”

Really? he asks and rubs at the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. The only time anyone’s ever been that excited to see me is my brother’s kids at Christmas.

Your heart aches when you remember he’ll probably never see them again. You want to tell him your chance meeting was the best thing that’s happened to you in years, but you don’t want to be too forward.

“That’s a shame, you seem like a real catch,” you say instead, which flusters him enough to lose his balance.

He stumbles over his feet but catches himself and clears his throat. Th-thank you. 

Rather than laugh, your heart grows in fondness. “So Lodi’s an interesting name… is that a Codename, or…?”

He seems like he’s thankful for the change in topic, and shifts right back into casual conversation. Oh- no, that’s- not my real name… it’s just a nickname that stuck after grad school.

“Is that where you’re from?”

He hums an affirmative and chuckles. Yeah, Lodi Wisconsin.

“Huh, I would have guessed California, based on your ancestry.”

He grins. Close, but no cigar.

“So what is your real name then? If you don’t mind me asking?” You hope he doesn’t mind, small talk is usually so hard for you.

Agent-... He almost stops himself but finishes anyway. Agent Louis Yero.

“Yero?” That name triggers a recent memory. Where do you know it from? “Wait… I’ve heard about you.”

The look that paints his face isn’t just surprise, there’s concern and anxiety as well as he slowly asks, … how, is that possible?

You open your eyes, grab your phone and run a quick google search, and find the answer almost immediately. “That’s right… I watched a documentary last week about fringe extraterrestrial abduction cold cases. Did you work for the DEO?”

He gawks. H-How did you-?

You wave a passive hand through the air. “Your files are old enough to have been declassified, and the History Channel’s got a hard-on for aliens.” This new information, however, does only strengthen your I’m just hallucinating him theory. What were the odds you’d be speaking to him a week after learning about him? It was all too convenient.

The History Channel?

You chuckle. “I know, it doesn’t really make sense why they’d be airing documentaries about aliens.”

No, I mean… what’s- The History Channel?

Oh, shit, he really doesn’t know. You set your phone down, lay back and give him a good once-over again. “… you’re sure you’re not just a figment of my imagination?”

As sure as I am you’re not a figment of mine, he says evenly and shrugs.

You frown. “That’s not very comforting.” Though if he were, he would probably be using a lot more therapy-speak, like the version of him from a few nights prior you’d fallen asleep talking to. Louis seems as genuinely confused by these revelations as you are. 

So wait, let me get this straight, he lifts one hand, turns away and goes back to pacing. Does the DEO still exist in your time?

“They were absorbed by NASA in the eighties following the return of data from the Voyager II probe, after it picked up deep space radio waves discovered by the DEO in the sixties. But yeah, they’re still around. They found the first concrete evidence of extrasolar alien life, and NASA realized they needed their expertise,” you explain as he listens, enraptured. “In fact, they’re working on co-opting the Ares1 manned mission to Mars between the United States, China, and Russia. It’ll be years in the making, but it’s been all over the Astronomy news network lately.”

No way, no WAY-! He lets out an unrestrained holler of pure, unadulterated joy. Oh my god, that’s-that’s amazing! Man, I wish-… I could have been there to see it.

Louis is so unabashedly himself in this moment of revelation, your heart flutters and burns. He’s just so sweet, so opposite of your partner, you forgot what it felt like to like someone this much… which for you, is dangerous. Falling this hard, and this fast. You’ve told your therapist and yourself that the next time you fall for someone, you want it to be slow, you want to take your time getting to know them. This isn’t love, you try to tell yourself, it’s infatuation. 

But while you’re in your head about it, Louis has sobered up. You can see it in his thousand-yard stare as he turns and takes a few slow steps. 

“Is something on your mind?”

He nods and twists one hand over the other, then stops and turns to you. C-can you tell me… did this documentary mention anything, about what happened to my family?

You wish you could reach out and hug him, give him what he desperately needs, but instead you nod and scroll dutifully through the article recapping the documentary, to confirm you’ve remembered correctly. “Your brother and your nephew—Phillip—were the only ones available for comment. Your mother-…” Your voice trails off but he gets the idea.

You hear him take in a sharp, shaky breath, and let it out as calmly as he can muster, and you look over in time to see him shaking ever so slightly, the tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s okay. I know. It was a long-shot to think she was still alive.

“If you give me a few minutes, I can run a Google search of your name and see what else I can dig up on your family. Maybe even her obituary, and yours?”

He pauses long enough to compose himself and asks, What’s Google?

You sigh before you can stop yourself and chuckle. “Right… the internet is… way after your time. I guess there’s a lot to catch you up on.”

He lowers himself down onto a white picnic table chair and leans over the table before pulling out his logbook. Well, I have time now, he says as he scribbles down the information you’ve just given him.

“It could take weeks, maybe even months,” you caution, eyeing him warily.

I don’t care… how long it takes. Tell me everything you can. I need to know, I-…  he pauses mid-stroke with a small, whinging gasp that cuts him off.

Your shoulders drop and you nod in understanding. “Of course, I don’t mind, just tell me when you need a break, okay? It’s going to be a lot.”

I want to know, he says in a dropped tone, then adds after a brief hesitation, I just have-… one request.

“Shoot.”

I had an old record collection… that I’d really love to listen to again.

You smile. “Well, I don’t have a record player at home, or a vast vinyl collection, but I can still play you music. Media today is predominantly digital, and the internet is vast so- you name it, I’ll find it.”

I honestly don’t think I’d know the difference, he admits with a small grin, But I think it’ll help soften the blow of whatever you’re about to tell me.

“Fair enough. Where do you wanna start?”

Do you know ‘Moon River’ by-

“Audrey Hepburn?” you finish before he can with a beaming grin. “Of course I do, it’s a classic.”

Lodi’s brow knits together at this thought, the song ends and Across the Universe queues up with a slow fade-in.

When he’d asked Orin earlier that day why she thought the Nine would allow him to make a psychic connection to someone in the past, she’d stared at him like he’d grown a second head, then cautioned him against attempting to make the connection again. He didn’t understand why then, but now seeing the threads that become you, it gives him pause. How and why is it that your existence is so certain? To what purpose?

“No,” he says with a reserved smile after a long pause, “You were always meant to be here.” Even if the Nine may have had a hand in this, you’re salve on an open wound, and all he knows is he hurts less when you’re there.

Did your time-god tenant tell you that?

“Something like that.”

You may be able to see and hear him better, but you’re still a silhouette behind their veil, taunting him with the prospect of a real connection. It’s intentionally cruel and manipulative of them to dangle you just out of reach like this, but he knows that’s the point. If your knowledge—or maybe, your friendship—is his request in exchange for service to the Nine as their Emissary, Orin’s right to be wary on his behalf. They could cut the connection anytime they wanted, without warning and without fulfilling their end of the bargain, and he’d be left holding the bag, waiting to be used.

But then again, Orin had found a way to quit when she’d had enough, so maybe… maybe he could leverage what he needed.

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, It calls me on and on across the universe~

The way you softly hum and sing along draws him out of his thoughts back into the moment, like sunlight breaking over the horizon at dawn. His perception shifts, he sees you by the lake in his dream, lying in the grass beside him, fingers in his hair. He feels warmth flooding through him and around him- safe, almost home. A future he won’t have, but a lovely dream nonetheless.

He smiles sadly, because this—even if the cost of spending time with you is giving himself over to the Nine—it’s still worth the risk. 

Is everything alright?

You’ve somehow noticed the shift in his body language, and he wonders if you also have some sort of psychic sensitivity. “Yeah,” he huffs out a small sigh, “Just… thinking.”

About what?

Lodi wonders what the Nine will allow him to reveal and tamps down the urge to reply with That’s classified. “When I left you before, I went to talk with- a colleague, about why she thinks the… extradimensional beings that brought me here would allow me to make a connection with you.”

I’m going to ignore the part about aliens abducting you in favor of staying on topic, you say, at which he mimes a small laugh. What did she say?

He grinds his teeth and swallows, not mincing words with his reply. “She thinks they’ll use you against me in order to secure my service to them… and warned me against reaching out again.”

Oh. 

“Yeah…” 

… but here you are.

“Aqui esto,” he grins in spite of himself, glad you realized that he didn’t take her advice, even if he probably should have.

I know you’re still here because you want your answers, but I’m glad you came back, you say after a long pause.

Louis presses his lips together and his heart pounds in his chest a few times. He looks down at the ground between his legs and shifts in place, just trying to say the words that are ringing in his mind. “… I came back for more than answers,” he finally admits with a shy, blushing grin, and releases a nervous laugh. “I… had a promise to keep to a friend.”

So I’m a friend now? You sit up and lean on your elbows to look at him, a coy little grin plays at your cheeks.

“You’re certainly someone I’d like to know better,” he says, this time with a little more confidence. 

I don’t think I’m anyone special-

“Nonsense,” he says before you can finish the thought and levels a serious look over his glasses to you. “Of all the people in the entirety of time and space, I made a connection with you- that can’t just be a coincidence, so you leave it up to me to decide, alright?” He knows he’s won when you smile and roll your eyes, then sit upright.

Fair enough. What do you want to know?

“How about we just start small?” he asks as he shifts one leg out long and curls the other. “Where do you live?”

On the East coast, near Philly- but I grew up middle-class in the Southwest.

He smiles at this, it’s no wonder you thought of Lodi California first. “Do you like it there?”

It’s too humid for comfort, but I make do, you answer honestly. Having seasons sure is nice though, I didn’t see my first real fall until I moved out here. 

It’s still a fresh wound that he will never see his home again the way it was, but he wonders if Earth still experiences seasons the way it did half a millennium ago. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

It’s my favorite time of the year, you agree with a wistful warmth that he picks up on, and most folks here take it for granted.

“They’re fools,” he says with a knowing grin. “So is your family still..?”

My parents are still alive, where I left them, you reply, My brother and his wife and kids are there too, so they’re not alone.

Louis’ stomach backflips at how similar your family lives are. “You have a brother?”

Just the one, and I’m the oldest. I try to visit once a year, but… with everything that’s happened recently, it’s been difficult to travel.

He lowers his gaze and frowns. “You did mention that… is that- something you want to talk about?”

I mean- you start and hesitate to answer. …I do and I don’t. I’m just… going through a divorce.

OH. Divorce is still a rare concept to him. He’s never been there himself, or seen anyone go through it, so he can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through- losing so much after spending all that time trying to build a life with someone that was supposed to be forever… “I’m- really sorry to hear that… what happened?”

They cheated, then blamed me, among other things… emotional abuse, and sexual assault. As you explain your eyes start to glaze over to disconnect and not have to relive it. The only thing they haven’t done is hit me, which would be a hell of a lot easier to prove in court.

Lodi’s expression is haunted by what you’ve just admitted. He knows the unmistakable stare of a person with PTSD even through the blur of the veil, and a sympathetic ache sits with his loneliness in recognition of your pain. He reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder, not expecting to find… warmth? The veil parts around the connection of your bodies, your head turns and looks right at his hand, then up into his eyes. He can feel your aura now, and it screams at him from across time with the anger of a collapsing star, shame as heavy and thick as oil, and grief as crushing and dark as the deep. Your shape comes into focus, the veil continues to wither and curls away like a fog, until finally… finally, he can see your face. His chest tightens and he stops breathing, Lodi tries to resist the urge to stare but he can’t help himself as his eyes start to well up and his breath finds him again. You’re-… 

“… Whoever they are, they've lost someone special.”

Please… you protest, but he insists.

“No, really. I mean it,” he emphasizes, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

But… you barely know me, how can you say that with confidence?

“Because you clearly needed someone to talk to all this time and you still put my needs first.” People are generally selfish, especially when they don’t know someone. Hell- even he’d forgotten to check in with you because he was getting what he needed.

You sigh and hang your head. My therapist says I do that because I’m too terrified to let others help carry my burdens… because my inherent worth as a person is directly tied to how much of a burden I am, and how much I can handle alone. 

Your throat starts to tighten and your voice cracks toward the end, and his heart drops because he knows what you’re feeling all too well. All boys are taught from a young age to push their feelings deep down where no one would ever see them, and the behavior was only reinforced in him by his time in the military; the only person he’d ever been able to be vulnerable with was his mother, god rest her soul, sometimes his brother.

Not having the emotional maturity to reach out when he was struggling had resulted in him being cagey with strangers, despite his friendly facade, which in his current situation was eating him alive. He was finding it so hard to allow himself to lean on Ikora or Drifer or Orin for help, despite being wildly out of his depth, but maybe he could learn to let himself lean a little more.

He slides his hand around your shoulders and pulls you over onto his lap in a big bear hug, and your composure crumbles. It’s a strange sensation because he can feel it so completely down to what he assumes are his bosons, that when you start sobbing without warning and curl over to burrow into his embrace, shaking all over, it’s neon to him- so sharp and bright it burns, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Te entiendo, cariño, you don’t have to carry it alone,” he soothes as he wraps his other arm around you, places one hand over the back of your head and tucks it under his chin. “Just put it down for now, I’ve got you.”

It takes a few moments, but your arms reach around him and you press your fingers hard into his back and shoulders over his robes. Lodi relaxes at the pressure, falls forward into your embrace and ducks his head into your shoulder until you can feel his breath on your neck. He hadn’t realized he felt so lonely and fragile until he was trembling and curling his knees up behind you in his lap. 

it is alright, child. you are loved, you are safe here. rest.

You squeeze him harder as your sobs start to subside, reach up to run your fingers through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck, shushing him softly, and the tension causing the trembling unwinds with every passing second. But he doesn’t cry, he just feels it and sets it free.

Louis sits with you like this for what feels like hours, not wanting to let go, until you’re both sufficiently exhausted from release of the pain and stress you’ve been holding onto. His head finally lifts and leans back against the wall. You’re breathing so steadily now he could swear you’d fallen asleep, but when he moves a soft hand across your shoulders, you uncurl from him, move off his lap, and sit down next to him on the ground.

… it’s been so long since anyone just held me when I cried, you start to break the silence.

Louis looks over and down at you, every ounce of humor drained from his face, and simply sits with the feeling of being so completely bared on an emotional level. “I-… I think the only person who’s ever held me like that was my mother…”

You reach across his lap, find his hand and thread your fingers with his before leaning your head against his shoulder. It feels so natural now he doesn’t even flinch, just squeezes back and returns the gesture. Do you feel any better?

He takes a moment to take inventory of how he’s feeling before answering. “Well, my head hurts, but I do feel… lighter?” he replies, then glances down at you again, taking in every angle of your profile for the first time and committing it to memory. “Do you?”

You nod and let out a long, controlled breath. Yeah… I do, thank you.

He tries to think of something, anything to change the subject but words fail him- but if he’s being honest, the silence doesn’t bother him like it once did.

You know, if you really want to hear the difference between a record and digital… Vinyl’s still around, you offer, returning to your earlier conversation. In fact there are many who insist the sound quality of a record is still unmatched compared to digital, compact disc, and cassette tape medias.

Louis smiles and squeezes your hand again, lets his legs drop and scoffs in disbelief. “Cassette tapes were new technology just a year ago to me… to think the media's gone through three more iterations in sixty years is mind-boggling.”

Only because you weren’t around to witness it, you say. History moves a lot faster in hindsight.

“That’s the truth,” he chuckles.

… Maybe we can-… make a date of going to a record store one of these days… you stammer out without looking up.

He takes in a breath as his chest starts to burn. It’s a resounding yes from him, but he’s skeptical about the logistics. He can feel you, see you, but he can’t be there with you. “How would that… work, exactly? With you being so far away and all…”

Same as we’re doing now, you say. I go to the store, you pick the records, and we listen together.

He hums and nods, and pulls your hand further across his lap to clasp it between both of his hands, playing with your fingers and watching the way the time strands light up and reverberate when plucked.

Listen, Louis… I know it's hard to reconcile that I can’t be there with you, and you can’t be here with me- but regardless of that, what we feel, and what we get from this… is real. 

“I know,” he says with feeling, and he does know- because he feels it in the way he imagines the Guardians feel the light. Right now being able to see you is what’s holding him together, and giving him the strength to face the reality he’d been dropped into.

And it’ll stay with us, because we’re changing each other into something more that we’re meant to be.

Lodi couldn’t deny that fact if he tried. It angers him to an extent that the Nine have such a chokehold on his future that even in his found solace he can see their handiwork, but Nine be damned, he’s not going to let that stop him.

He brings your hand up to brush the backs of your fingers across his stubbled cheek and turns to look you in the eye. “If I can find a gap in my schedule between averting the expansion of the singularity that’s trying to eat Kepler and the entire Sol system, and being the Nine’s messenger… I’d really like that.”

“Lodi, come in!”

Ikora’s voice over the radio breaks up the moment, and the way he shifts back into business is almost jarring. 

“Sorry… one moment,” he tells you and taps a fingertip to the radio earbud in his right ear. “Yes Miss Rey?”

“We need you back at the Caldera."

“I’ll be right there.” He taps the earpiece one more time and glances over at you. “Duty calls,” he says with a small smile. “Will you be okay until I come back?”

You give his hand another squeeze and nod, uncertain at first, then more confidently, as you reaffirm for your own sake, Yeah, I will be. You’ve given me something to look forward to, it'll make the days more bearable.

“That’s right,” he beams back at you. “Whatever gets you through the day, just make sure you’re still here when I come back.”

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

It’s the most certain anyone’s been about him in years, and it has him all choked up inside. Before he can convince himself to stay, he lets go of your hand and breaks the connection as he stands up, feeling taller than before he’d sat down.