I own none of the characters in this oneshot.
Emerald.
Sapphire.
Amethyst.
Coral.
Ruby.
Spessartite.
Amber.
Waves upon waves upon waves of each pulsating color, ever shifting, ever moving. Never the same, never remaining still. Restless beauty in and of itself.
Thick fingers covered in pillowy white traced the constellations shying behind these iridescent curtains, shimmering against the navy ebony. Amazing to see the lights this far south of the Circle...even if the reason came about from less than benevolent intentions.
Steel-periwinkle lids clasped over aquamarine eyes as if to block out the reality hiding amongst the splendor, bidding time for the impending crash.
Velvety black lips let free a forlorn sigh.
How could one mission, one simple mission, have gone so out of hand?
Good luck, agents. You're gonna need it.
They knew all along. They lied to us, sir.
I was too drunk with pride to realize the truth, Skipper.
But if you guys protect us, who'll protect you?
My hate is all your organization has left me.
Why won't you let us help you, man?
I don't even know if there is a bright side anymore.
Suddenly the colors felt akin to a slap in the face.
Aquamarine resurfaced to the outside world, gleaming from encroaching tears, and a sharp sniff echoed.
Peter Breland, or Corporal as his teammates/friends knew him, held no qualm with crying. As long as it did not prevent you from moving on and resolving your problems, then by all means shed tears to your content. That was what his stepfather always told him, lovable gentle giant he was. And considering everything that'd happened so far, the polar bear felt this situation justified the need for release.
So release them he did, the saltwater droplets masterless and free as they carried away the pathos he'd buried beneath years of spy training, now undone by the tragedy of a few days. It did not matter to him if the others saw. Let them see, let them react as they wish. Crying made him feel better, helped him feel more liberated despite all the chaos, all the suffering.
Soon enough his emotions calmed and his breath eased out without rush. 'Ah there, I feel much, much better.'
At least now he will be less liable to pop.
Warm firmness descended on his grand tummy, strong ivory fingers kneading and massaging the soft pudge with practiced ease and gentleness, sending a pleasant shiver up the arctic ursine's spine. Without hesitation, Peter laid one massive paw over the smaller one rubbing circles into him, not once taking his eyes off of the heavens.
"It's a lovely night out, Ben."
"That's Classified to you, Corporal," a familiar London-accented voice retorted in faux offense. The snow-capped paw slipped free from its captor as its owner lay down beside Peter, near enough so the fur of their arms brushed against one another, bodies flush with the imminent promise of a slumber not spent alone in this cold-enough-yet-not-cold-enough wilderness.
Peter smiled at the familiar scent of apple cinnamon (his favorite) as he tried his best to suppress a chuckle when the gray wolf wiped away the sweat from his forehead and let out a petulant groan of, "Ugh, I don't understand how the denizens here can stand all this hellish humidity."
The polar bear had to give his fellow mammal that. Their natural builds suited arctic regions best, and even though the agents were no strangers to differing climates thanks to their missions, they never had to stay in those conditions for such extended periods of time before.
As far as first times went, this could have been better, the constant moistness in the air only exacerbating the discomfort, especially when the sweat kicked in.
'At least the hemisphere where we are is in winter right now.' Peter sighed in relief at a cool breeze caressing his face. 'Otherwise we would have been in real trouble.'
All the same, this place wasn't so bad. The animals living here proved their hospitality through their willingness to let the two stranded mammals and their group camp out in this forest for the night.
Peter only hoped the same fate that befell Circus Zaragoza would not repeat itself here. Being the herald of one home's destruction, even only inadvertently, shoved enough guilt on the bear's shoulders.
' Which reminds me.'
Peter lifted his head to gaze at the three shadowy figures talking in hushed tones around green shafts of light lined near the inactive fire-pit. There'd been an argument earlier over having a fire—the light and smoke would give the group away to incoming enemies—yet no one could disagree that staying in the darkness offered little comfort.
So Private offered the glowsticks he salvaged from yesterday's fiasco in Vegas as a compromise—an effective one at that, Peter noted with a proud smile.
That cute little penguin never ceased to amaze.
"Where is that mind of yours this time, Corporal?"
'Oh,' Peter realized with a blush, 'Caught red-pawed.'
No point in hiding the truth. The wolf excelled in sniffing out deception, not to mention that Peter lacked the heart to lie in the first place, so it'd be best to come clean. With mustered will, he faced the patiently waiting lupine, the bear's face solemn and worried.
"My apologies, sir. I was only thinking of...," for all his training, the ursine could not hide the vulnerability that streaked across his eyes like a shooting star when he shrugged his shoulders and murmured, "events."
Events.
Yeah. That word would have to do. Not that any others could better describe the trauma conga line the North Wind inadvertently stepped into days ago.
The OAW, the North Wind, its sister teams, and now Circus Zaragoza—they were all gone. Irreplaceably and undeniably gone, lost to a ruthless and ingenuous criminal mastermind who orchestrated the perfect array of subterfuge and divide-and-conquer down to the last period, her assistant not only a world-renown genius but a heartbroken father stripped of his child long ago because of a mistake on the OAW's part.
And the machine that helped them accomplish this: a device once intended to project soothing music now warped into a tool of brainwashing. Almost as if Kate Bush's "Experiment IV" had been rendered a reality, now claiming as many lives as it pleased—or rather as its masters pleased.
Their fellow agents, the aye-aye that defended his king and their little friend, that tiger that pushed the zebra and jaguar out of harm's way...Eva and Short Fuse.
What's worse, this was only the beginning. The 'evil music' (as the funny-looking squirrel king once called it) merely set the stage.
Constricted heartbeats resounded in Peter's chest at what all these developments would lead to. Could lead to.
He did not want to face his teammates again, not after the way the owl and baby seal alternated between their glass-eyed hypnosis and real selves, struggling to choke out what hints about the master plan's flaws they could before finally succumbing to the alpha waves. Facing them again, no doubt even fighting them, would prove inevitable if there'd be any chance of undoing this mess.
He did not want the animals that had reached out to help—Alex, Marty, Gloria, Melman, Gia, Stefano, even Julien to name a few—fall to the same fate in vain. Because God knew those brave souls would do everything they could to help put a stop to this madness after the losses they'd incurred.
Most of all, he did not want to lose B—Classified, Peter reminded himself. Out of commission or not, the two of them were still spies and needed to keep all personal feelings and matters on the backburner until this nightmare met its resolution. That would prove taxing on their emotions, Peter knew, but it was for the best. They could not afford to lose their judgment to feeling, not with the world in its current state.
"You're free to hold my hand, just so you know."
Did Peter hear him right? His wide-eyed gaze shifted to the gray wolf. "Sir?"
"Tomorrow may not come. Perhaps the fact we still breathe now is a miracle in itself. But if we are to fade, not merely die, but fade from memory from the minds of our colleagues and friends who are lost, I'd rather it be together with you." At last the wolf turned his head to face the bear, countenance a mix of softness and vulnerability Peter had not seen from Ben since their containment by Dave. "So don't be afraid to touch me, Peter. I want you to."
He could not believe his ears—nor his wolf's boldness. Ben had shown such fierce aversion to physical contact at the start of their relationship, Peter never dared even a pat on the shoulder without asking the canine permission first.
To hear such open consent rattled him so much, he almost backed out. But oh, those eyes. Those breathtaking, soul-stealing eyes...
Resistance meant nothing. Before Peter knew, his hands moved on autopilot, their landing site a place of muscle and bravado and kindness.
God, Ben was so soft, so wonderfully soft, Peter wanted nothing more than to bury his face against his leader's cloud-white chest and sleep to that beautiful lullaby of a heartbeat. Alas there were witnesses yet spies were known for improvisation. With a wry grin, Peter drew Ben into his plushy form instead, arms snug around the wolf's body without crushing him, and fluttered at the feel of a smaller head nuzzling his broad chest.
"You know, the lights ain't so bad once you look up."
Four eyes of aqua regarded the serene-smiling zebra, half with pleasant surprise; the other, halfhearted chagrin.
Marty.
Though they had not known him long, Peter quickly grew to appreciate the monochrome New Yorker and his cordial personality in the past couple of days. After all, he had been among the few to welcome the North Wind into their home with open arms after Skipper explained the team's situation.
Ben, on the other hand, did not seem to share the polar bear's opinion. That was not to say the wolf despised or even disliked Marty, oh no. Much to Peter and everyone else's relief, the secret agent treated the older mammal with nothing less with genuine respect.
It was just—and this was more of a guess on Peter's end than anything else—that the lupine struggled getting around the zebra for some reason.
At first, Peter assumed Marty's incessant optimism was what set the wolf on edge, but Ben's growing fondness for Private disproved that notion in a heartbeat.
Only when the polar bear recognized the jealous stare he caught the wolf giving Marty from time to time did he realize the truth: the fact that Marty was among the eldest of his fellow circus animals, old enough to have been Ben's father, and still looked at the world with no less hope and goodwill than Private—that, Ben failed to comprehend.
In truth, that was no grand surprise. It disappointed Peter all the same.
"No. They aren't," the bear responded with a grin faint yet honest. There was no need to bog Marty down with reality. "Did you need anything, friend?"
"Nah, just comin' over ta see how you two lovebirds are doin'."
"We're fine," Ben responded in a steady voice that sounded borderline curt, belied by the guilt Peter noticed in those icy blue eyes.
To his own credit, Marty sat down on his haunches and held his front hooves in playful defense, "Hey man, I believe you", before laying down on his stomach beside the arctic pair. "Private and Gia have been wound up lately—not that I blame them—so I suggested they get some sleep for tomorrow."
Good thinking. Best the young ones don't overexert themselves from agitation, not with the possible madness in store for them the next day. Their current plan was to go to Nacogdoches and find a possible lead on the enemies' movements and hopefully a way to take them down for good; no need of technology or holograms to illustrate the enemies that will come looking for them.
Peter glanced past Marty to see Private nestled near the fire pit, the penguin's demure features illuminated by the glowstick in his flippers.
' Poor little one, he must be so worried for his brothers.'
Gia, on the other hand, remained awake as evidenced by her still wagging tail despite her supine position.
'And I do not even want to know what's weighing her thoughts down.'
Suddenly, much to Peter's confusion and slight hurt, Ben gently pried his arms off and moved from the bear's body onto the ground. Now seated between the two other mammals, the wolf fixed upon Marty a serious frown, making sure to keep his voice low lest Private and Gia overheard.
"Listen Martin, as a civilian, you need to understand-"
"That I could possibly get blown up, brainwashed, mutilated, and Lord knows what else because the villains got no problem with shootin' up little ol' me," though Marty spoke at the same volume as Classified, one could hear the eye-roll in his words, "yeah, I kinda got the picture after the last—oh let's see—two dozen explosions we've lived through."
Ben could already feel a headache coming on. "Martin—"
"An' that's anotha' thing, Classy. When I hear 'Martin' I look over my shoulder for either Martin Lawrence or Steve Martin. C'mon man, you're off the clock! I told ya back at the circus and I'll tell ya again: ain't gonna hurt to be friends with the rest of us, 'specially since we're stuck together for who knows how long."
Ben's face contorted, brows furrowing and frown deepening, that Peter feared the wolf's professional pride would lash out...until he shook his head and released a deep sigh, features not so much as relaxing as much as sagging in defeat.
Uncharacteristic, much to Peter's concern. The bear's worry only grew when instead of a verbal response like he and Marty anticipated, the lupine collapsed back on the grass spread-eagled.
"Quite the mess we've been dragged into, hmm gentlemen?" A harsh huff popped from the wolf's lips. God, he had no idea what to feel right now.
"I've been through worse," Marty quipped. A sideways glance at Ben and Pete's incredulous stares and the equine shrugged with a wry grin. "Well considerin' my best friend nearly ate me once upon a time and me and friends once went on the run through Europe from a psycho animal-control lady with Terminator tendencies..."
Ben held a paw out to stop him, pointedly ignoring the faint chuckles coming from both his companions at his reaction...as well as his own traitorous smile. The wolf rubbed his eyes in genuine exhaustion. "Thank you but no thank you. I'd rather sleep without more nightmares."
"Oh, did I hear a bit of humor from the ever so straight-laced Classified himself? The world must be ending."
Angular ears perked up. Ben undid the rubbing to scoff at the smug zebra. "Please, Martin, if you heard even a third of my puns, you'd know why my sister calls me a certain dog's long-lost brother."
"Now are we talkin' half-brother or full-brother cuz the funny bone's been scientifically proven to be acquired rather than inherent."
Oh, Ben was smiling this time. "Well then, whichever so-called scientists 'proved' that obviously need to get their facts straight because I'm quite known among the ladies for my sparkling sense of—" Only to freeze right there, eyes going wide in realization and amazement. "I don't understand how you do it."
"How I do what?"
"That." Ben spread his arms out as if the 'what' were too vast to describe. "All that optimism, even when your life is in shambles..." The wolf knew better than to be direct about what and who the zebra might have lost. "How do you do it?"
All throughout the conversation, Peter remained silent and listened, paying close attention to the faces the wolf and zebra made...and for the first time, the polar bear witnessed a weariness take over the green in Marty's eyes like an eclipse casting itself upon a forest, a gloom that weighed down the corners of that dark grey smile.
Marty let out a sigh burdened with long-forgotten stares at painted murals and returned his sight to the rivers of light above, front hooves crossed against his snow-white chest, the one place the stripes did not touch.
"I just do. Just like how Private just hopes and Gia just hangs on. We ain't spies like you and Corp, Classy. Gotta make do with what we got. Otherwise we'd be stuck feelin' sorry for ourselves."
Just like the penguins.
Taking life as it was, one day at a time, one moment at a time. Every moment spent alive was an adventure to these animals, never knowing what comes tomorrow yet never letting that keep them from enjoying the here and now.
Peter understood now, he understood perfectly, and may all forces of nature strike him down if he did not feel small as a result. 'No wonder you feel so out of place around him.'
"Ben."
Spoken terse and unadorned and still managed to floor the zebra and bear—metaphorically, that is, they were already on the ground but you get the idea.
"What?" Marty and Peter balked in unison, blunt confusion in one; pleasant surprise in the other.
Ben tossed his striped compatriot an abashed frown. "My real name. It's against protocol for higher-level agents to reveal their identities but considering our present situation, I doubt it'll hurt to bend the rules just this once. Consider it a sign of my respect...," he broke eye contact for a moment as if in conflict, "Marty."
At the equine's flattered growing grin, the wolf hemmed to divert the attention from his sentimental admittance. "Of course, you already know Corporal's real name since he told you back at Zaragoza and he's not as high up in rank as I."
No words could do justice for the pride Peter felt towards the incredible wolf beside him. One look past his mate affirmed Marty felt the same.
"So, Benny, what series of high-defying explosions are we pulling off tomorrow?"
The wolf chuckled. "None, if tomorrow goes well like we all know it won't."
"Mm hmm, by the way, Gia may or may not have been listening."
All three mammals tossed a glance to the shadowy lean figure near Private. One didn't need spy skills to tell she only just started sleeping on her side, facing away from the others.
Ben executed the perfect facepalm. "Oh...brilliant."
A soft elbow in the ribs drew his attention to Peter. "She is resourceful, though. Do not forget how she saved you back in Vegas, Ben."
As if the wolf could ever forget. He almost felt guilty for arguing with her earlier. A strong gentle hand scratched behind his ears and it felt exquisite. Already Ben found himself leaning into the welcoming warmth, eyes closed and lips smiling, without thinking nor caring that someone else could see.
His bear's strong voice nudged him out of his reverie, if only barely. "She is strong. I do not know her as well as Marty does but I can tell she is. Just like Private. We only need to have faith in her."
Ben's eyes eased back open.
With a look back, Ben found Marty smiling in that never-say-die hope of his—and half wondered if his own face reflected it. The fact did not bother him at all.
Have faith in them.
Private's word, now Corporal's and Marty's as well. Faith: perhaps all they needed.
And with friends like these, maybe they still stood a chance.
No, they did stand a chance.
We may be down but we are far from out.