A/N: Have you ever planned an entire chapter only to write it completely different afterward? That's what happened here. Three chapters then!


STITCHES

( chapter two: reading your names )

.

Here was the place I chose to stand.
Just when I think I'm going under,
I... remain.
(Brian Eno, Under)

- - -

Robin was ecstatic beyond control when she heard Jay finally gave him an official position on the team. The Sky Knight beckoned him this morning when the boy was doing chores in the hangar bay, scrubbing and mopping up the explosive remains of a mouldy melon from last night. The guys must have been extremely bored and decided to raid the garbage bins for something gross and sticky and extremely amusing. Well, going to bed after several bottles of beer and leaving the mess to the new guy wasn't so amusing to the Academy graduate.

"Ace." The Sky Knight signaled to him.

"Yeah?" He dropped the rag he was using into the soapy bucket on the floor and thought twice about wiping his hands on his blue flight suit.

"Come with me."

He had gotten used to hearing his name called out repeatedly by the rest of the Storm Hawks. It happened often. Whether it was part of a strange and subvert initiation process to test his patience or they were just lazy, he was always in demand by one of the crew members; at least, during the day.

Most of the time he spent in the cockpit with The Condor's androgynous pilot, Pitta. The first few times they were alone it was awkward. He wasn't the type to open up and start a conversation unless it was to extract information for his journal, and Pitta was content to sit back and give him a turn at the helm.

Some members of the team needed him more than others, such as Jay and Ibis. When he wasn't steering the airship or doing chores around the deck, he was training in the hangar bay or in the sky. They didn't carry swords. They had no double-blades similar to their Sky Knight's, but used quarterstaves both as their offense and defense.

It was practical, the warrior woman reasoned, to learn how to use the equipment effectively. Once upon a time, before the Atmos became a world of rivets and crystals, the people made weapons out of the trees. Quarterstaves used to be made out of Oak or Hawthorne. These days, all weapons were made out of lightweight metal – the ends of their weapons were specially capped with a contraption to hold various crystals for additional power.

His days at the Academy taught him how to ride a bike both on ground and in the air, but for all their technique, they didn't teach him how to fight realistically. He knew the formations, how they looked from one standing on the ground or up in the air, and he knew how to flow from one pattern into the next, but the sky was a much bigger place than the self-contained playing grounds of school.

"Pull up!" His leader commanded. His voice was stern as he yanked on the controls and executed a backwards somersault spontaneously as if he had just decided to take a breath. He followed suit and ended up a little wobbly once his vestibular system readjusted to the quick change.

It was different and he liked it. Here, there were no instructors who were concerned with the health and safety risks of their students; he was part of a squadron now. Injury was imminent but preventable, and as new as he was, he felt the exhilaration of going into battle knowing he was doing something of value. He was protecting people.

They were well into their third hour of training when Jay called him back to The Condor for a break. They would be continuing in the afternoon. It was his third month following recruitment, and the past two weeks had been slow. Not that he wanted the skies to be filled with Sky Pirates and bounty hunters, but he wanted to know what was happening with the world outside of the airship. They traveled from place to place, he noticed, unlike other squadrons who remained close to their terras of origin. Once he asked his captain about this anomaly and Jay turned his face down at the boy with a silencing look. He didn't mention it again.

It was lunchtime. The good doctor also happened to be their regular cook and prepared carefully crafted meals for the team to consume. Truth be told, he was getting sick of chicken salad and longed for something less healthy and juicier, like spaghetti and meatballs or saucy barbecued hamburgers.

Many of them didn't bother cleaning up for mealtimes. They came in from wherever they worked from, although the doctor would make sure everyone had clean hands and faces and emphasized the importance of rolling up their sleeves lest bacteria gather on their plates.

"Give it a rest, Manny," one of the women groaned. She pressed a hand to her forehead to emphasize her tiredness from the constant nagging.

"Where's Robin?"

"In the engine room," was Ibis's automatic reply. Sure enough, the woman in question appeared with her auburn hair tied back from her head. Her greasy monkey suit was zipped down to the waist and wrapped around her middle.

"How's the hot water tank?" Jay inquired and motioned for her to sit at the table. Noticing there weren't enough seats, she made a motion to grab the missing chair from the adjacent galley but the redhead offered up his position in lieu of the extra work. As he disappeared into the other room and clattered about searching for the seventh chair, Robin sat down next to Ace and sighed.

"We're gonna need new engine crystals for the gas burner. And better ones this time. The last batch was starting to burn a hole through the electrical crystal unit." Here she cranked up the volume of her voice to make sure a certain captain would hear.

"We need higher-grade engine crystals if everyone's going to keep taking showers in the morning!"

"I heard!"

Talk at the table ranged from delegating household chores to what they heard on the radio. A lot of the in-house complaints came from Manakin and Ibis, who sometimes sat beside each other five days in a row, then ignored the other person's presence for the following three consecutively.

By this time he knew where each of his teammates had studied and which Sky Knight academy they graduated from. Most of them came from the northern quadrants, with the exception of Hihi who hailed from the southwest. Many of them did not know each other until they met their future leader and heard his proposal to form a new squadron to replace the one his home terra had lost. All he had to offer was an outdated license and his grandfather's airship, The Condor.

"What made you join?"

"Adventure," admitted the pilot. "Definitely not the pay, not the way the Sky Council kept cutting back on our salaries twice during the first year I was here."

Thus began the Storm Hawks, a new team of graduates from differing years. They were lucky enough to find each other in a breaking world where everyone was accusing everyone else of skimping on supplies and money. It was normal to meet up with a fellow squadron and discover someone was replaced. Unhappy graduates left for something better and left public service for private hire.

The boiling ground underneath the skyline was acting up again, and citizens were worried another natural disaster like the earthquake from seven years ago would come to pass once more. Less terras were drifting apart, perhaps due to the crystal advancements from Cyclonia to ensure the Atmos remained together. It was technology Master Cyclonis shared, but there were some groups who accused him of conspiring against the other lands. Did he know large quantities of crystals helped secure a terra's geographical location? How long had he kept this knowledge? He was hoarding the mines for himself.

Back at home, the Storm Hawks tried not to talk about politics too much since Jay told them their youngest and newest recruit was born Cyclonian. Not that it mattered, he reassured them, he was a good kid and Jay was a good judge of character.

"You have family back at home?" inquired the doctor.

"My mother and my father."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"I'm an only child."

Manny chuckled and let out a silent bark of amusement. With the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, he leaned back in his chair with the remains of raspberry vinaigrette on his plate. He inhaled deeply through his nose and pursed his mouth into a ring. The mannerism almost made the boy wonder if he had been a chain smoker before becoming a doctor. He certainly didn't smoke now.

"I've got a cousin who moved there just recently. Says it isn't as bad as everyone thinks it is."

"It isn't."

"I know," he continued. "But my aunt and uncle weren't too proud of her for moving away. Neither was my mom."

Afternoon came and went. Jay gave him the promotion and once they were back on the solid floors of The Condor they went straight to the engine room and told the mechanic about Ace's new position as co-pilot. The squealing hurt his ears. She hastily wiped her greasy hands on an oily rag and stalked them all the way down the main galley with mirth twinkling in her green eyes. When the Sky Knight excused himself and headed for the bathroom the woman threw her arms up in the air and tackled him in a well-meaning hug. The boy looked down at his suit and knew he'd have to wash it right away.

He was used to her antics by now, but it was still embarrassing. Robin was one of the few individuals who could get away with this only because she was harmless. However, he still needed his dignity and was slowly suffocating under her small but tight hold. Before any of the other crew members saw them together and decided to take a potshot at his expense, he wiggled his shoulders and they broke apart.

"I'm so proud of you!" she squealed. She raised her hands to her face and marked her cheeks black. "I just knew you would get the job!"

"You knew I would be co-pilot?"

"Oh, that's not what I meant! Congratulations!"

He meant to write to his family that night and tell them the good news; however, he was detained from his usual evening routine when they were all called to the cockpit for some celebration time in the form of white pound cake and some fresh fruit. No alcohol for this party, they reasoned. Although he was of age, they still thought the new co-pilot was too young to experience the emotional disaster of getting smashed.

They celebrated every chance they got, no matter how small. It was a way to forget about all the financial and political trouble. He was already instigated as a member and now they were celebrating such a small promotion. It was the equivalent of presenting the squadron with a new type of quarterstaff. The reality of life as a Storm Hawk struck him, and it almost hurt.

The hours past six o'clock on the ship indicated the start of the night shift. Since they usually flew in the daytime, they had the natural light of the sky to illuminate the rooms of The Condor to conserve energy and minimize crystal usage. But when the sun set the carrier pilot docked the ship at the closest available terra and turned on the lights. Without the sun to shine through the windows, most areas of the ship were submerged in darkness save for the small red lights that outlined the bridge and the doorways. Home became a different world altogether, and the bright pastel colours flipped over like the opposite side of a pillow and became softer, darker, and silent.

Gathered around the table with all the lights turned down low, the silence surrounded them like a bubble where all conversation bounced off each person as if they were a wall.

Pitta caught his eye and with a crooked finger, quietly motioned for him to come over. Wiping cake crumbs off his face with his index finger, he tapped the box underneath the pilot's seat.

"They say you're too young – I think you're mature enough to know when to stop. Do you want one?"

"No."

"Your loss." Shrugging his shoulders, he snapped open the latch and grabbed the neck of a green bottle; discreetly hid it within the folds of his black vest.

"Is that a cooler under there?"

"Don't tell anyone about it, alright?"

"Yeah, sure."


He learned the secrets of human nature from watching his companions. There was no doubt which individual was the quiet one, who liked to stay up at night to watch the stars while the rest of the squadron snored away in their bunks. The Condor became more of a home to him than any other place had, more than the Academy, more than Cyclonia.

The Sky Knight made them jump from terra to terra, always searching for a place to go and a new mission to complete. While he knew the layout of the underground trade, his leader knew the connections between squadrons and could pinpoint which terras held the most influence over the Sky Council. One of their favourite visiting spots was Terra Rex, homeland of the Rex Guardians. One of his best school mates from long ago was stationed there.

Everyone on board had family somewhere. They had parents, brothers and sisters, close friends – but none of them had children or lasting partners. It was hard subject to address, to be a team with no land to call their own, and therefore no place to settle. They might even be called exiles. However, he wasn't surprised during the party when Ibis and the Doctor disappeared together. Ace raised an inquiring eyebrow and the carrier pilot shrugged and told him to let it go. Everyone dealt with the situation in their own way, and sometimes it was better to turn a blind eye to whatever happened behind closed doors.

On some nights he didn't sleep as well as the others, but he was always the early riser. When they docked as guests on another terra, he felt safer on this ship than sleeping in some strange room. He knew it was all about the network, the mesh of fabric that held the people of Atmos together. The Sky Knights were more than just protectors; they were upholders of the law. They established the familiar relations between the government and the public that would otherwise been left to spoil. He was a mediator.

History can be dry. Historians tacked on the names and places that shook up the foundation of the known world. They wrote what they thought was better for everyone. Words in a textbook easily became just as important as scripture. Back in the Academy, he memorized all the subsequent Sky Council policies implemented to secure the economic security of the Atmos. He also noticed there was no mention of aid for Cyclonia. That part was true. But wasn't true was voice of authority inside his head who drilled him. His pre-teen years hammered the clear disadvantages of terra Cyclonia. The monarchy was outdated and primitive. No one needed a king anymore. The people had to change.

Little things like that; little cracks in the books lifted off the paper and entered the unknowing heart. Up until now, he had been a closet Cyclonian and referenced his land of birth only in times of requirement. He knew this peace wouldn't last for long.


There were too many voices in the hallway. They whispered in urgent tones to make sure no one else heard.

One morning it sounded like Hihi and the carrier pilot. They discussed something they read in the newspaper they picked up on Terra Pax during their stay with the Interceptors. Crystal prices were rising again and they'd have to cut down on something in order to maintain the shipment of engine crystals Robin needed to keep the ship running adequately. Next week it was Ibis's new boyfriend who made clandestine visits in the night, but failed to completely smother the squeaking and the groaning that came through the walls at four in the morning. Everyone pretended they slept right through the hour-long sessions, but the bags under their eyes said otherwise.

And there was shouting. Mainly in the gray area between romance and sex and what every squadron should follow according to the Guidebook but no one paid attention to. Ibis never kept them for long, it wasn't in her nature, but it was always one person she went back to regarding of his obvious hate for her that morning.

The longer he stayed, the more he noticed the separation between friends. He felt invisible and noticeable when the calendar crept closer to holidays and various team members took sky ride and left for a day or two only to return with their saddlebags full of presents. Ace never went home - it wasn't for the lack of a passport but for the potential blemish that might char his image amongst the crew. Instead he wrote letters and took pictures; photographs either taken by Robin or Jay to showcase how much the Cyclonian-born son had grown. He was an experienced traveler, a hard worker, and a good kid.

Six months as a Storm Hawk he got into a fight with the carrier pilot of another squadron whom he graduated with back in the Academy. The boy was angry, looking for blood, and screamed at Ace for the loss of his older sister. A public airship was shot down by Sky Pirates within Cyclonian territory and the Talons did nothing but watch. Inhumane bastards. They only looked after their own people.

A bloodied nose and multiple lacerations later, the Rebel Duck conceded defeat and lay on the dirt ground, weeping. The captains of both squadrons appeared a little too late with the entire company in tow and separated the boys. Ace had not planned to hurt his former classmate any further, but he was out of control and wouldn't stop.

Back in the kitchen, Ibis placed some ice cubes in a slightly damp washcloth and handed it to him. With her olive complexion and dark hair, the bruises on his skin seemed to match her natural tones. "Hey, it's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault." He retorted and grabbed a handful of his pants just above the knee and simulated the sensation of killing something.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. He sobered.

"Don't do that again."

"I won't."

She sent him to see the resident doctor. He went to his bunk instead.


Robin lied down on the couch, grabbed a seat cushion and used it as a pillow as she curled her legs underneath her. He noticed she did that often, walked around on deck with her face and arms covered in grease and used the furniture as if she were in her own room. Well, it wasn't. They were in the galley and she watched him with a rather amused smile on her rosy face.

"Are you happy here?"

"I guess."

She laughed and said that wasn't a real answer. From the moment she first smiled at him, he knew she took an immediate liking to his character. It made him feel like a novelty toy, something others could play with. Later she admitted it was the combination of his boyish charm melded with his advanced maturity that made him rather attractive.

"How old are you now? I'm thinking seventeen… eighteen?" Keeping track of ages wasn't her forte, but she was all right with numbers. She wasn't a navigator, but she was the easiest to get along with.

He set his water glass down on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees and positioned his body so the light from the windows fell over his jet black hair and face, casting half of him in shadow.

"Eighteen."

She squinted when she laughed.

"I was always bad at that kind of thing."

"Don't worry about it," Ace teased her. "People always mistake you for my little sister all the time."

He raised an eyebrow when his conversation partner spluttered from the jab, whipped out the cushion underneath her head and chucked it at him.

"Hey!" He threw it back at her.

"Jerk."

Jay was right; it was easy to get a rise out of her. Grinning, he turned the question on her. "Say, and how old are you?"

Settling back down, she reclined on the couch and pretended to take a nap. The adult kid playing the older sister bit. Robin had a twin sister back at home – his teammate was older. He was aware she hailed from Terra Edmontonia.

"Guess."

Ah, trying to snare him with a trick question. Too bad, he's already got the card up his sleeve.

"You act like you're fifteen, but you look twenty-seven. I don't think you're my age. How about twenty-three?"

Laughter filled up the empty living room. It was unusually clean for the home movie Jay planned for tonight. He took Robin's vocal answer as a sign he was very close, but not accurate.

"Twenty-two."

"You're old."

"Not compared to our fearless leader."

"So, how old is he?"

"Guess."


When he was eleven he hitched a ride back to Cyclonia on a cargo ship carrying livestock and became well acquainted with the cows and chickens for the sheltered farms. It was painful to fly back home because he knew how much his parents looked forward to seeing him. As an only child, they gave him the best present he could have wished for – a chance to join a squadron. They didn't ask how he got home or when his next visit would be, but allowed him the freedom he needed. He realized it was their way of showing affection but that did not stop their worrying. He made sure to take good care of himself at school.

"Your grandfather's sick."

"How is he?"

"Not good. We're going to visit him tomorrow at the hospital."

The retired soldier looked sickly and pale in the bed, but his spirit remained the same. After the greetings and the well wishes, the older man requested to speak alone to his sole grandchild while his son and daughter-in-law remained outside. Ace wasn't afraid of dying, he knew he had to conquer the fear of death if he attended the Academy, but it was disease and sickness he abhorred. One couldn't fight a battle against yourself – in his eyes, it was the biggest betrayal of all. He couldn't imagine having one's immune system turn on you.

"How are you, Ace?" His grandfather had christened him with that nickname, said his grandmother had been blessed with some kind of seeing gift. He was grateful for it.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Tired."

A few more beats to allow the elderly a breath of oxygenated air, and he spoke about the Sky Council. It was an honour to be knighted, to have that responsibility and respect on your shoulders, but he had to be wary of outsiders. One day Ace would travel the world, no doubt he was starting to now, but gave a word to the wise. Trust no one but a Cyclonian. It all came down to blood; he revealed to his grandson, it was all about the history between their people. Compared to the young ideals of the free Atmos, a Cyclonian was royalty. There was a reason the monarchy held on for so long.

When the holidays were almost over and the new semester approached, his parents opened another secret; he was supposed to have a younger sister. His mother was pregnant one year after he was born, but there were complications and she lost the fetus in less than five months. It was hard, but expected. Miscarriages were commonplace considering the air quality in Cyclonia failed in comparison to the general Atmos. It was the biological accumulation of generations who partook in crystal mining. It was the lava flows underneath the terra. But despite all adversity, they survived.

That night when he went to bed, he took out his book on Ornithology. With a fresh Solaris Crystal inserted into the table lamp, he stayed at his desk and absorbed the pages, studied and memorized the life cycle of different species. Some of them were endangered while others were extinct.

He wondered what his sister's name might have been had she survived.