Juliet
AKA: Someone Smack Me, I'm Writing ROMANCE!
Notes: I wanted to try seriously writing romance. But most other fandom and couples I like... they have plenty of fics. And this section has barely any, of romance or anything. So I chose a fairly canon couple I rather like, and fashioned a vague plot.
But other characters will have spotlight time, not just N/M.
---
Noyze hugged her knees to her chest. Tears streaked her cheeks, and stained her pants. Her chest was tight, and breathing was painful. She hiccuped and tried not to start crying again.
She found it almost amazing that she still could cry. She was a survivor, after all. An orphan. A Remnant. Her parents were dead. Her friends on Earth, her grandparents were dead. All she had left was Dr. Cohen.
Had being the key word.
It was her fault. All her fault. She had insisted on going, trying to make peace with the Blue Meanies. She thought it was stupid of Mo'Steel and the others to continue referring to them as that. And disrespectful. The Children would have never agreed to peace if they knew that's what the Remnants thought of them as.
Not that they would agree to peace anyway.
Her foolishness, her naivete, had gotten her friend killed.
She felt like hell.
***
"God, I hope she feels better soon," Olga said worriedly.
Tate sipped at her tea. Strong, scented herbal tea. Maybe it was good that Violet was so femme it should have been illegal. There was no way she could make such good tea. And she needed that tea to soothe her nerves.
Tate admired Noyze. Noyze was a brave girl. Not many had the guts to stand up to 2Face. Male or female, kid or adult. 2Face was intimidating. Bossy, harsh, ruthless and generally a self-preservationist. She would only care about you if you served her purposes.
Kind Tate was not overly fond of her.
"I'm not sure she'll ever be fine," Tate ventured. She, Olga and Violet were sitting vigil in the house Noyze used to share with Angelique Cohen, the latest among the Remnants' dead. The list was long, and still growing.
Violet pulled her long, pretty blonde hair back into a ponytail, and tied it with a ribbon. "Someone needs to talk to her, but..." she trailed off.
"What do we say?" Olga finished. "Yes, I know. I miss Angelique, too. I thought we were becoming friends." The second-oldest of the Remnants sighed. "She's the only other woman to interact with. You girls are great company, but..."
"Age gap," Tate finished. "I know. The people around my age are Yago, Anamull and Kubrick."
"I certainly don't envy you," Violet said. "At least Jobs is almost social."
The three females turned as they heard the front door open. Mo'Steel's voice called, "Mom? Violet, Tate, anybody?"
"We're in the kitchen, Mo," Tate called back. "Come join us. Have some of Violet's tea, it's good."
Violet flushed slightly at the compliment. Tate wasn't exactly in the habit of praising her. The older girl was ultra-feminist, and believed the sexes were interchangeable. Violet was more old-fashioned. No longer quite a Jane, and she knew she was just as smart or brave as Mo or anyone, but Violet still believed there were some things girls were just not meant to do.
Mo'Steel stepped into the kitchen. He was nervous. He hated walking in on femmes when they were talking. Never smart. They were always talking, and if you walked in, probably about you. That was the way the universe worked, be it on Earth or Mother.
But atleast these were good femmes. His mom, his best friend's girlfriend, and possibly the most down-to-Earth (so to speak) of the Remnants. They weren't plotting anything. Yeah. Olga hadn't been telling Violet and Tate what color diapers he wore or his teddy bear's name. It was cool.
Violet motioned for him to sit beside her. He obliged, sitting on the hard oak chairs Dr. Cohen had chosen for her home. It was kind of creepy being here. Dr. Cohen had often invited him and his mother over for dinner. They had sat right here, and Olga and Dr. Cohen would be talking rapidly in Spanish, all about everything under Billyville's artificial sun. Noyze would be amazed at how fast they talked, so fast that Mo'Steel couldn't provide a translation. He doubted he could have been able to, anyway. He knew the basics, a few scattered words and phrases, but he wasn't fluent in his mother's native language.
Looking around, Mo couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Cohen's ghost was floating around, just waiting for him to slip...
Bull, he told himself. If Dr. Cohen was floating around, she'd be with Noyze, trying to comfort her. The good doc was like that.
Speaking of Noyze... "How is she?"
Violet smiled wryly. "Think of any word that means 'bad.' Multiply that to the forty-eighth power. Multiply that by a googolplex."
Mo winced. "That bad, huh?"
Tate sighed. "Worse. Much, much worse."
Olga set down her cup. "We've been wanting to talk to her, but we can't think of anything to say." She followed Tate's example and sighed. "Poor girl."
That was the understatement of all time. Poor Noyze. She had no one. Mo atleast had his mother, and his best friend.
But Noyze... Kind, sweet, observent, brave, delicate Noyze... was alone.
Whoa, Mo'Steel thought. That was way to many adjectives, 'migo. She's just a kid.
Still, she needed someone, and he might as well be that someone. The girls all meant well, but they were stumped. Mo'Steel would just use his irresistable charm to cheer Noyze up.
"Uh..." he began, hesitantly. "I could, um, you know, talk to her?"
His mother smiled. "Oh, Romeo, would you?"
"We'd appreciate it," Tate added. "We'd just screw things up. But you have the magic touch, Mo." She took another sip of her tea. Damn, it was good tea. And so calming. Tate wondered vaguely if Violet had somehow added some alchohol. "No one ever takes what you say the wrong way." Pause. "Except maybe 2Face."
Mo'Steel chuckled and knocked on Noyze's door. Tate's words had boosted his confidence somewhat. But still... Calm and gentle wasn't his thing. Mo'Steel was a man of action, a Man of Steel.
Strap it up, he told himself firmly. It's just Noyze. Just Noyze. Just Noyze...
Mentally, he repeated that to himself. A sort of mantra. It calmed him. Slightly.
Verbally, he called softly, "Noyze? Noyze, it's Mo'Steel. Hello?"
Noyze's reply was faint. "Mo?"
"Yeah," the teenaged boy said. "Can... Can I come in, talk to you maybe?"
Noyze considered. Mo'Steel was nice. And funny. And she desperately needed cheer. She was feeling depressed, and that feeling scared her. "Come in," she said.
Mo'Steel slowly opened the door. Noyze was curled into a ball, on the far wall. Her dark eyes peeked up at him, trying to to smile. And failing miserably.
Looking closer, Mo could see the torture in Noyze's eyes. He could see the dark trails the tears had left on her small face, like two demonic snakes. He could practically feel the angst, the pain, and sorrow radiating from her body. Her fists, almost tiny compared to his own, clenched her jeans.
In layman's terms, Noyze was a wreck.
God, and I thought she was just a kid... Not anymore. No kid's gone through this.
Mo's heart was breaking so badly he thought he might need a new, titanium one to match his other artificial parts.
"Hi," the girl whispered. Her voice was so weak. So feeble. Mo'Steel wanted to hug her, or hold her hand. Give her his own strength, pour it into her, make her the vibrant Noyze he knew.
The vibrant Noyze he had barely begun to care for.
"Hi," Mo'Steel whispered back. Awkwardly, he moved to sit by her. He plunked himself down about an inch to her left. He felt her shrink away, just the barest bit. Almost unnoticeable. And as if she feared him... It hurt Mo'Steel a little too much for comfort.
"Are..." Mo'Steel trailed off. Duh, stupid. He'd been about to ask if she was okay. Like hell she was. Damn cliches were creeping into his mind.
Noyze understood the question Mo didn't want to ask. "No," she whispered. "I'm not, I'm not, I never will be..." A dry sob wracked her small body. Her stomach sucked in and her chest heaved, as she tried not to cry. No, no, she pleaded silently, Not in front of Mo'Steel.
Mo'Steel didn't think, but just wrapped his arms around the girl, drew her to him. Pressed her face against his shoulder. Patted her back. Whispered that it was okay too cry. He would never tell, and even if he would, she was entitled. She was justified to cry, Mo'Steel believed. To have lost everything, gained one more friend, and lose it all again... Mo was again shocked at how he had ever imagined Noyze was a simple girl, just a kid.
It was easy for Mo'Steel to be strong. He had to be. He had to give Olga and Jobs strength. And even if he didn't feel strong, he would always have Olga and Jobs to pretend to feel strong to perk him up. Maybe not always, The self-proclaimed Man of Steel thought morbidly, but hell. That wasn't the point.
Noyze had survived capture. She had been strong. She was the only one who had learned the Meanies' hand-signs, and proceeded to teach Violet, Tate, D-Caf and the kids. All she'd had then was herself and Dr. Cohen. Dr. Cohen was almost like a mother or sister to Noyze. Family. All she had.
Mo'Steel hugged her tighter. Not all she had. Mo had made up his mind, here and now. He would be here for her. Help her when/if she needed it.
Care for her. Maybe even.... he dreaded the word coming into his mind... love her?
Love. There was no love in Mother's World, he had believed. For Jobs and Violet, maybe, but not Mo'Steel.
But maybe... In a few years, if they lived that long. If she could stand him.
Either way, even if she never got over Dr. Cohen's death, she'd would have him to be strong for, and him to be strong for her.
Noyze jarred Mo'Steel out of his thoughts by pushing him back. She smiled, sadly but thoughtfully. Mo'Steel watched as she drew her sleeve across her tear-streaked cheeks. She spoke. "Your given name... it's Romeo, right?"
Mo'Steel nodded mutely, wondering where this was going... And feeling strangely mellow, and almost happy, at what his brain was coming up with.
Noyze's dark eyes drilled into his. "Then, maybe I should change mine to Juliet."
--END--
AKA: Someone Smack Me, I'm Writing ROMANCE!
Notes: I wanted to try seriously writing romance. But most other fandom and couples I like... they have plenty of fics. And this section has barely any, of romance or anything. So I chose a fairly canon couple I rather like, and fashioned a vague plot.
But other characters will have spotlight time, not just N/M.
---
Noyze hugged her knees to her chest. Tears streaked her cheeks, and stained her pants. Her chest was tight, and breathing was painful. She hiccuped and tried not to start crying again.
She found it almost amazing that she still could cry. She was a survivor, after all. An orphan. A Remnant. Her parents were dead. Her friends on Earth, her grandparents were dead. All she had left was Dr. Cohen.
Had being the key word.
It was her fault. All her fault. She had insisted on going, trying to make peace with the Blue Meanies. She thought it was stupid of Mo'Steel and the others to continue referring to them as that. And disrespectful. The Children would have never agreed to peace if they knew that's what the Remnants thought of them as.
Not that they would agree to peace anyway.
Her foolishness, her naivete, had gotten her friend killed.
She felt like hell.
***
"God, I hope she feels better soon," Olga said worriedly.
Tate sipped at her tea. Strong, scented herbal tea. Maybe it was good that Violet was so femme it should have been illegal. There was no way she could make such good tea. And she needed that tea to soothe her nerves.
Tate admired Noyze. Noyze was a brave girl. Not many had the guts to stand up to 2Face. Male or female, kid or adult. 2Face was intimidating. Bossy, harsh, ruthless and generally a self-preservationist. She would only care about you if you served her purposes.
Kind Tate was not overly fond of her.
"I'm not sure she'll ever be fine," Tate ventured. She, Olga and Violet were sitting vigil in the house Noyze used to share with Angelique Cohen, the latest among the Remnants' dead. The list was long, and still growing.
Violet pulled her long, pretty blonde hair back into a ponytail, and tied it with a ribbon. "Someone needs to talk to her, but..." she trailed off.
"What do we say?" Olga finished. "Yes, I know. I miss Angelique, too. I thought we were becoming friends." The second-oldest of the Remnants sighed. "She's the only other woman to interact with. You girls are great company, but..."
"Age gap," Tate finished. "I know. The people around my age are Yago, Anamull and Kubrick."
"I certainly don't envy you," Violet said. "At least Jobs is almost social."
The three females turned as they heard the front door open. Mo'Steel's voice called, "Mom? Violet, Tate, anybody?"
"We're in the kitchen, Mo," Tate called back. "Come join us. Have some of Violet's tea, it's good."
Violet flushed slightly at the compliment. Tate wasn't exactly in the habit of praising her. The older girl was ultra-feminist, and believed the sexes were interchangeable. Violet was more old-fashioned. No longer quite a Jane, and she knew she was just as smart or brave as Mo or anyone, but Violet still believed there were some things girls were just not meant to do.
Mo'Steel stepped into the kitchen. He was nervous. He hated walking in on femmes when they were talking. Never smart. They were always talking, and if you walked in, probably about you. That was the way the universe worked, be it on Earth or Mother.
But atleast these were good femmes. His mom, his best friend's girlfriend, and possibly the most down-to-Earth (so to speak) of the Remnants. They weren't plotting anything. Yeah. Olga hadn't been telling Violet and Tate what color diapers he wore or his teddy bear's name. It was cool.
Violet motioned for him to sit beside her. He obliged, sitting on the hard oak chairs Dr. Cohen had chosen for her home. It was kind of creepy being here. Dr. Cohen had often invited him and his mother over for dinner. They had sat right here, and Olga and Dr. Cohen would be talking rapidly in Spanish, all about everything under Billyville's artificial sun. Noyze would be amazed at how fast they talked, so fast that Mo'Steel couldn't provide a translation. He doubted he could have been able to, anyway. He knew the basics, a few scattered words and phrases, but he wasn't fluent in his mother's native language.
Looking around, Mo couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Cohen's ghost was floating around, just waiting for him to slip...
Bull, he told himself. If Dr. Cohen was floating around, she'd be with Noyze, trying to comfort her. The good doc was like that.
Speaking of Noyze... "How is she?"
Violet smiled wryly. "Think of any word that means 'bad.' Multiply that to the forty-eighth power. Multiply that by a googolplex."
Mo winced. "That bad, huh?"
Tate sighed. "Worse. Much, much worse."
Olga set down her cup. "We've been wanting to talk to her, but we can't think of anything to say." She followed Tate's example and sighed. "Poor girl."
That was the understatement of all time. Poor Noyze. She had no one. Mo atleast had his mother, and his best friend.
But Noyze... Kind, sweet, observent, brave, delicate Noyze... was alone.
Whoa, Mo'Steel thought. That was way to many adjectives, 'migo. She's just a kid.
Still, she needed someone, and he might as well be that someone. The girls all meant well, but they were stumped. Mo'Steel would just use his irresistable charm to cheer Noyze up.
"Uh..." he began, hesitantly. "I could, um, you know, talk to her?"
His mother smiled. "Oh, Romeo, would you?"
"We'd appreciate it," Tate added. "We'd just screw things up. But you have the magic touch, Mo." She took another sip of her tea. Damn, it was good tea. And so calming. Tate wondered vaguely if Violet had somehow added some alchohol. "No one ever takes what you say the wrong way." Pause. "Except maybe 2Face."
Mo'Steel chuckled and knocked on Noyze's door. Tate's words had boosted his confidence somewhat. But still... Calm and gentle wasn't his thing. Mo'Steel was a man of action, a Man of Steel.
Strap it up, he told himself firmly. It's just Noyze. Just Noyze. Just Noyze...
Mentally, he repeated that to himself. A sort of mantra. It calmed him. Slightly.
Verbally, he called softly, "Noyze? Noyze, it's Mo'Steel. Hello?"
Noyze's reply was faint. "Mo?"
"Yeah," the teenaged boy said. "Can... Can I come in, talk to you maybe?"
Noyze considered. Mo'Steel was nice. And funny. And she desperately needed cheer. She was feeling depressed, and that feeling scared her. "Come in," she said.
Mo'Steel slowly opened the door. Noyze was curled into a ball, on the far wall. Her dark eyes peeked up at him, trying to to smile. And failing miserably.
Looking closer, Mo could see the torture in Noyze's eyes. He could see the dark trails the tears had left on her small face, like two demonic snakes. He could practically feel the angst, the pain, and sorrow radiating from her body. Her fists, almost tiny compared to his own, clenched her jeans.
In layman's terms, Noyze was a wreck.
God, and I thought she was just a kid... Not anymore. No kid's gone through this.
Mo's heart was breaking so badly he thought he might need a new, titanium one to match his other artificial parts.
"Hi," the girl whispered. Her voice was so weak. So feeble. Mo'Steel wanted to hug her, or hold her hand. Give her his own strength, pour it into her, make her the vibrant Noyze he knew.
The vibrant Noyze he had barely begun to care for.
"Hi," Mo'Steel whispered back. Awkwardly, he moved to sit by her. He plunked himself down about an inch to her left. He felt her shrink away, just the barest bit. Almost unnoticeable. And as if she feared him... It hurt Mo'Steel a little too much for comfort.
"Are..." Mo'Steel trailed off. Duh, stupid. He'd been about to ask if she was okay. Like hell she was. Damn cliches were creeping into his mind.
Noyze understood the question Mo didn't want to ask. "No," she whispered. "I'm not, I'm not, I never will be..." A dry sob wracked her small body. Her stomach sucked in and her chest heaved, as she tried not to cry. No, no, she pleaded silently, Not in front of Mo'Steel.
Mo'Steel didn't think, but just wrapped his arms around the girl, drew her to him. Pressed her face against his shoulder. Patted her back. Whispered that it was okay too cry. He would never tell, and even if he would, she was entitled. She was justified to cry, Mo'Steel believed. To have lost everything, gained one more friend, and lose it all again... Mo was again shocked at how he had ever imagined Noyze was a simple girl, just a kid.
It was easy for Mo'Steel to be strong. He had to be. He had to give Olga and Jobs strength. And even if he didn't feel strong, he would always have Olga and Jobs to pretend to feel strong to perk him up. Maybe not always, The self-proclaimed Man of Steel thought morbidly, but hell. That wasn't the point.
Noyze had survived capture. She had been strong. She was the only one who had learned the Meanies' hand-signs, and proceeded to teach Violet, Tate, D-Caf and the kids. All she'd had then was herself and Dr. Cohen. Dr. Cohen was almost like a mother or sister to Noyze. Family. All she had.
Mo'Steel hugged her tighter. Not all she had. Mo had made up his mind, here and now. He would be here for her. Help her when/if she needed it.
Care for her. Maybe even.... he dreaded the word coming into his mind... love her?
Love. There was no love in Mother's World, he had believed. For Jobs and Violet, maybe, but not Mo'Steel.
But maybe... In a few years, if they lived that long. If she could stand him.
Either way, even if she never got over Dr. Cohen's death, she'd would have him to be strong for, and him to be strong for her.
Noyze jarred Mo'Steel out of his thoughts by pushing him back. She smiled, sadly but thoughtfully. Mo'Steel watched as she drew her sleeve across her tear-streaked cheeks. She spoke. "Your given name... it's Romeo, right?"
Mo'Steel nodded mutely, wondering where this was going... And feeling strangely mellow, and almost happy, at what his brain was coming up with.
Noyze's dark eyes drilled into his. "Then, maybe I should change mine to Juliet."
--END--