I never really shipped them before, but I've written so much with them now and my sister has done so many adorable doodles of them hanging out that now I kinda do...I still don't see their relationship as being anything typical though.
They never actually dated.
When they were at Sarif, she was his pilot. That was how they met.
Megan walked briskly down the stairs, talking animatedly about the company and the facilities, and Adam followed her, hands in his pockets because even though this was work and he was a professional the CEO had let his girlfriend not only weigh in on the hiring process but give him the tour. Adam had a good feeling about David, about this whole place.
"This is the airfield," Megan said, stopping to the side and gesturing. "David has factories and business all over the world, so if he needs you to go with him this is where you'll be. The VTOL is a lot faster than it looks, trust me."
"She's my baby," another voice came from the side, and Adam turned to look at the small woman jogging up the steps. She was wearing an orange flight suit and her short, dark hair was windblown. She grinned and held out her hand. "Faridah Malik, think of me as your personal wings."
"Good to meet you Malik," Adam said, smiling back and shaking her hand. "My name is Adam. Jensen."
"Ahh, Sarif's new security chief," Malik nodded, winking at Megan. "Your reputation precedes you. Megan says you're the best."
Adam snorted and crossed his arms, side-eyeing his girlfriend.
"I haven't said anything that wasn't warranted," Megan defended. "Adam is a very special guy."
"Well, spy boy, we'll just have to see how good you are. I look forward to flying with you soon," Malik said, turning with a wave and heading towards her craft.
When Adam went through hell, Malik was his support.
"Adam! Hey, Adam it's okay!"
Adam shuddered, scrambling back until his shoulder hit with a jarring clank against the bed rail, lungs still healing feeling ragged and clogged as he tried to breathe. He blinked rapidly, the cold sweat running under his bandages and making them feel even more constricting than usual. He'd been dreaming. Of what he didn't know, didn't really want to know. The lowlights of the medical ward were not as harsh as usual and he buried his eyes in a shaking hand, wondering how metal could quiver the way his heart was.
A warm, flesh hand closed around his forearm and he looked up, meeting red eyes with Malik's dark, concerned ones. "Hey spy boy," she said softly, rubbing her thumb against the sleek edge like it was normal. The sensors in his arm easily picked up the sensation, but the sight of the black against her healthy skin unnerved him and he tried to pull away.
"No," Malik said, gripping his arm and keeping it there. "No," she said again, gentler this time, keeping her hand on his forearm and lifting her other to cup his cheek, running her knuckle gently across his cheekbone. She didn't touch his metal any differently than she touched his flesh, and that was one of the only things that helped him accept his prosthesis as part of him, rather than something tacked on.
She was his support, and he was hers.
"Malik?" Adam leaned his shoulder against her door, cocking his head as he tried to listen. She'd been out of work for a week, and while he knew she had her own life and plenty of paid vacation after being with Sarif for so long there was something off about the situation. He just wanted to be sure she was okay. "Hey, I'm coming in okay?" he said, letting the door scan his code. They'd programmed their doors for each other some time the year previous when they'd started going out for drinks after work and hadn't really cared which apartment they crashed at afterwards for games of poker where everyone cheated before holding marathons of old science fiction movies.
He looked around her apartment, his brow furrowed. She was never one to keep it spotless, but there was an air of desertion to the room. Like she not only didn't notice, she didn't care to. His heart beat a little harder and he resisted using his X-ray augment to search the apartment, though one hand rest on the gun at his hip. "Faridah, you here?"
He was about to draw his weapon just in case when she finally answered.
"Bedroom," she said, though her voice sounded stuffy and the word was a little apathetic. He was relieved and more worried all at the same time and he took his hand off his weapon, going into the next room over where Malik's bed was lofted near the window. Unlike his which was settled on the ground and as far away from the window as possible, hers was lifted on several antique looking flight crates that he'd never asked about where the gold city could cast a glow over her at all hours.
Her back was turned to the window, and she was curled on her side, a pillow hugged to her chest and her eyes red. Adam frowned and knelt next to the bed, reaching out a hand to brush some of her hair back. It was getting strangely long for her. "Hey," he said softly, glancing her over for a hint as to what was wrong. "What's going on?"
She sniffed and tried a smile, shrugging a little and rolling her eyes. "You know, stuff happens. It's just life."
"Malik, talk to me," Adam coaxed.
She drew an unsteady breath and rubbed a hand over her eyes, pushing the pillow away and sitting up. She stared listlessly into the sheets for a while, picking at a lose thread on her faded college sweatpants. "I-" She cleared her throat, her brow furrowing. When she spoke again he could hear the tears she was holding back. "I got some news..."
"What happened?"
She blinked miserably and looked like she was going to try and speak, but eventually she just reached across the sheets to the ledge where her communicator was charging. She flipped it on and handed it to Adam, waiting with her hand supporting her forehead while he read.
We regret to inform you that as of March 21, at 5:09 in the morning your mother, Safiya Malik, passed away in her sleep after her battle with cancer...
Adam didn't need to read more. He set the communicator quietly aside, reaching out a hand to clasp Faridah's. "I'm so sorry, Malik."
She tried to smile but her expression faltered and she squeezed his hand back. "I knew she had cancer but I didn't know how bad it was...she didn't tell me. I talked to her almost every week and she didn't tell me..."
"She didn't want you to worry about her."
"But if I'd know it was this bad I could have come to see her one more time!"
Adam got up slowly and sat next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe she didn't realize how bad it was either. I'm sure she didn't keep you away on purpose."
"Or maybe she did know," Malik said softly, sniffing and leaning against Adam's shoulder. "And she didn't want me to see her like that. So she died alone. Half way across the world."
Adam rubbed his thumb against her shoulder, his heart aching for her. "Where was she?"
"She went back home to Egypt for treatment. I was born here but mom was born just south of the Nile. When dad died she raised me until flight school and then went back when she got sick." Her expression crumpled and she tried in vain to speak without crying. "I can't even go get her body."
He frowned. "Hold on, why not?"
"There's been a lot of conflict out that way, like there always is, and air travel is almost impossible to clear right now. I'd need an international escort. And someone who could sign for her body to be released and let me be the one to transport it. She would have to come all the way back to Detroit—she wanted to be buried with dad."
Adam considered, thinking laws and borders over in his head for a moment. "I have a degree in criminal justice and while I was with SWAT I got certified international clearance to deal with some stuff that went down near an embassy, just in case my crew had to go in. I get Sarif to renew my passport I could go with you."
She pulled away and looked at him, surprise and hope clear in her expression. "You'd do that?"
"Of course I would."
More than any of that though, they were friends.
"You punched him." Adam was trying his best to keep a straight face, standing in the workshop hanger where he'd been summoned after a 'mild altercation' had been spotted on the security cameras. Malik had been working with Franklin Phillips on the VTOL when they'd started arguing. The security guard that had pulled Adam down to check it out was trying his best not to crack up when he explained the situation he'd seen on the screen.
It was well known and even better documented that Franklin thought he was king of the airfield. He also tended to think men were superior, especially augmented ones. Frankly Adam was impressed with Malik for not hitting him sooner.
"She did! She punched me right in the jaw!" Franklin was pointing, his split lip puffy and making him look like he was pouting even more than usual.
"Right in your augmented jaw," Adam repeated, still fighting to keep a straight face. He cleared his throat behind his fist to hide a laugh when Malik held up her fist and to show him the split knuckles. She had one raised eyebrow and she was leaning against her VTOL without a hint of apology in her pose. Franklin didn't see the gesture, he was busy staring at Adam like a kicked puppy wanting retribution.
"Well, Faridah, was it?" Adam said, pretending ignorance and flipping through both of their employee files. "This seems to be your first offense and the...altercation...was partially obstructed on camera by the wing of the VTOL so I'll let you off with a warning."
Franklin gaped, his bruised jaw lopsided. "A warning? Your guys were right there—they saw everything!"
Adam glanced over his shoulder at the two female guards on duty in the hanger, raising his eyebrow. "Simmons and Martin were getting coffee during the incident," he said mildly. "They aren't reliable witnesses."
"Then I demand an investigation into your policies!" Franklin fumed, jabbing a finger into Adam's chest. "I don't feel safe at all, Mr. Head of Securty!"
Jensen tucked the employee files under his arm and stared levelly at the irate man, folding his arms. "There were security cameras present and my guards are permitted to refresh themselves every three hours of duty without waiting for a replacement as long as the area in question is not considered high security or at high risk of a security breach. I do understand your concern though, and apologize." He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, and Malik raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going to need a full description of how Faridah Malik, listed in her file as 5'10' and 155 pounds, female and only cerebrally augmented, assaulted and severely injured you dangerously close to your augmented site."
Franklin worked his jaw and his tongue darted out nervously to dab at his bleeding lip. He glanced back at Malik, who was looking at him innocently while Adam could hear his guards trying to stifle their chuckles.
When Sarif dissolved and the crew split across the world, somehow Malik and Adam didn't.
Flygirl: Hey, how's Prague?
Spyboy: Sucks. New boss thinks I'm the terminator.
Flygirl: Tell him naked time travel doesn't look good on anyone.
Spyboy: Believe me, I tried.
Flygirl: How's the new pilot?
Spyboy: You could teach him a thing or two, but he keeps us in the air.
Flygirl: You should ditch both of them and meet me in Berlin.
Spyboy: And what's in Berlin?
Flygirl: A thing or two.
She proposed in Australia.
"I can't believe you had the chance to blow that entire factory sky high and you didn't take it," she commented, watching Adam sprint the last hundred meters and leap into the VTOL.3.
He slipped as he climbed in and half fell into his seat, panting as he spoke "Fly now, criticize later. Besides, the rafters were full of kookaburra nests, you really want me to blow up your feathered buddies?"
Malik chuckled. "Nah, let them and the kangaroos put that place to good use. Somebody should." She flipped switches and tossed a water bottle over her shoulder without looking. She heard Adam catch it as she took off.
That evening, her in a glittering red cocktail dress, him in a three-piece tuxedo, they clinked glasses of champagne, drank them and laughed about how it was terrible, and ordered a bottle of whiskey to go with their crab bisque. Adam had split from his organization and Malik from hers, and they freelanced themselves out to helping ARC and anyone else who needed it for a good reason. Adam had made more than enough money with his years as a merc, so whether or not their clients could pay them rarely mattered.
It was the year 2033. Adam Jensen was 40. Faridah Malik was 34. They had known each other for eight years. She wiped tears after Adam finished telling her about the look on the factory head's face when he just dropped out of the ceiling, and Adam sat back, feeling full and warm and happy. The lights over the patio restaurant were soft, the air was warm and Malik's dress caught the gold and kept it. She rest her cheek on her fist, turned her wine glass half full of whiskey, and said it.
"We should get married."
Adam chuckled and leaned on his own palm, looking into her eyes. Then he threw a piece of starfruit at her and got it down the front of her dress and she laughed between bouts of cussing him out.
Adam didn't forget what she'd said.
He proposed in Italy.
"I told you, the moon always looks like that in Italy. Always."
Malik made a pfft sound with her lips and smacked his chest. "You're such a liar. The moon is not always full in Italy.
"It is!" he insisted, laughing as they walked arm and arm through a vineyard. To their left Vesuvius rose against a sky absolutely pierced with starlight, and Adam wondered if the whole world would look like that if only they turned the cities off for a night.
"Oh?" she said, turning on her heel and catching both his hands. "And how would you know that, Mr. I never left Detroit until David made me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes I did."
"Yeah, you walked four feet outside the city to get vodka where it was cheaper."
He pointed a finger at her. "That was a good deal."
She laughed and turned away from him, bending to pluck a grape off the vine.
"I don't think those are supposed to be eaten. Not for another twenty five years or so."
She shrugged and picked another one for him.
Their mission went smoothly and afterwards they rented a hotel and played in the restricted part of the ocean way after dark, dodging jellyfish and seeing how many starfish Malik could find and stick to Adam's arms. Around two in the morning they had to hide between splits of rock just past where it was easy to touch because a guard was walking down the beach, and in between stifled chuckling they pressed against the rock and tried not to swallow too much seawater. Adam had braced his foot against the rock and Malik was standing on his shin because she was too short to touch.
Dawn was breaking as she picked the last of the starfish off of him, the sun turning the sky silvery and the waves gold. They lay on their backs and looked at each other, and Malik reached over to peel the last starfish off of his arm. The face he made as the creature finally let go made her laugh, and before she got up to return the poor creature to the ocean she leaned in and kissed him quick and lightly. She smiled when she broke it, getting up and brushing sand off her skirt as she jogged down the beach and waded in enough to let the starfish free.
When she turned back around Adam had followed her, a bunch of grapes they'd stolen from the vineyard the day before held in his hand. They stood knee deep in the ocean with the sun bleeding over the horizon, and he thought about how beautiful she looked with her hair all a mess around the flowers she'd twisted like a crown and how this woman was the best friend he'd ever had and ever wanted to have. She looked back at him and thought that in any day and any time of his life he was beautiful, and she reached up to stroke an affectionate thumb along the scar in his jaw where his beard wouldn't grow.
He settled a hand on her hip and draped the grapes over her head, brushing them to the side and arranging them with her flowers until it was just silly enough to be beautiful. She laughed but she left them there, keeping her eyes on his face as he dipped to lace their fingers. He raised their clasped hands to where he could look at them, at her fingers twined with his, how the metal and flesh had never seemed so natural before. He looked at her.
"We should get married," he said softly.
She smiled. "Yes," she said softly back. "We should."