Rating: M
Warning(s): Heavy spoilers, brief use of alcohol, cursing, and sexual situations (non-graphic).
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mentions of Roland/Lilith, Lilith/Mordecai. All in Mordecai's point of view.
Setting: Takes place before the game when Lilith became the Firehawk and started hiding out in Frostburn Canyon. Then a time lapse to the end of the game after the mission Talon of God. Lots of spoilers, don't read if you don't want to get pissed.
Notes: Took forever to write this because all of the angsty feels and how I feel kinda guilty because my fics are supposed to be funny. That and I'm STILL trying to wrap my mind around how I'm supposed to make a Sal & Ellie fic work. It might take a bit, but I'mma try. Roland and Tannis? That's a riot planning to happen. I feel like Dr Zed creating freaks of nature... a little bit of this here, sew this limb to this... mmmf. Lovely. Love it, flame it – I don't mind. Enjoy.
Mordecai likes to sit back and watch. It's just what he does. Some people can't stand the stillness. The slow passage of time inching by. Nothing but your thoughts buzzing around your head. He thinks that's what gets to them the most; being alone with just their thoughts. Most people he guesses, unknowingly build a hive of doubts and worries and fears until it escalates into such a high drone, they have to do something – anything – to silence it and get away from themselves.
Deep in the Frostburn Canyon, he watches Lilith try to get away for the better part of the year.
He wants to tell himself that he's here this time for an exchange of information they can't chance having the Hyperion network listen to over the ECHOnet, but he'll only be lying to himself. He hadn't told Roland he was dropping by, and he's willing to bet Lilith has done the same. They've met like this more times than he can count and sometimes, he's not sure if the Solider is completely as oblivious as he lets on. He'd like to think Roland should have seen this coming, but then not many people actually watch as closely as Mordecai does.
The wind whistles coolly from the cliff face as he steps into her makeshift living quarters and somewhere, he thinks he hears the deranged laughter of some psycho down below. It's quiet here, he thinks. He wouldn't mind the silence much, but Lilith... he could only imagine the boredom she must be going through. Mordecai's sure Roland has legitimate reasons for situating Lilith here. It was best for all of them to keep the Siren hidden, let them keep thinking she's dead. But sometimes, he's not convinced if that's the only reason. Maybe Roland needed to get away from himself too.
Bloodwing takes flight, cawing her goodbye as she soars outside and he finds Lilith waiting for him sitting on her couch, feet propped up on a beat up box. She looks at him and he looks at her. There's not much going on. She can look at him with an expression that says she doesn't expect him to say anything and he's grown to expect the same. They don't speak much at these moments. Maybe because she doesn't want to feel guilty and he doesn't want to try to hear the reasons why. Both of them have their own reasons for doing what they do and they understand each other too well to pretend otherwise.
He sits down at her side and she sits back on her end of the couch with a sigh, legs draping over his lap. Without saying a word, he starts to undo her boots; the zipper loud in the silence. She helps kick them off and he gently massages her calves, working his way down to her feet. He wants to ask her how she's doing, but he's not much for small talk. Besides, he's got a good idea already. Roland officially broke it off between them and her mind must be screaming like varkids on fire, stuck in here with too much time devoted to her thoughts and too little time doing anything else besides. He's surprised they lasted as long as they did.
"I tried," she breaks the silence, fingers knotting absently until she stills them on her stomach, and he knows. She's always tried. "I can't fucking do right for doing wrong and I... I just can't be what he wants me to be. And he, he is so good. You know how good he is... I can't –"
"I know," he says because that's all she needs to hear and that's all he's willing to listen to.
Before all this, before New Haven burned... things were different. She was in love and maybe that occupied her thoughts instead. They were busy in their own way, trying to make a home, trying to adjust to living without a Vault and the addictive danger that came with it. Mordecai broke the monotony by drinking and watched them, watched her, and how much effort she went through to domesticate herself. Not for herself, but for Roland, and Mordecai has always been able to see right through it.
When you watch people enough, it gets easier and easier to see how things will turn out. And so, he wasn't at all surprised when Lilith would occasionally call him over like this. And if they sit in silence for a while, it wouldn't keep her from wrapping her legs around his waist. Or making her cry out his name instead of Roland's. Or keep him from coming back more often than he should because she doesn't love him. All she wants is to keep her thoughts at bay. But for a few hours, she'll belong to him and later, he'll drink to forget he ever had her in the first place.
Briefly, he thinks of Moxxi and how he's starting to make a pattern of wanting women he can't keep. He's glad he's never truly alone, Bloodwing always his side.
Mordecai works his fingers in deeper, inching higher up to her thighs and she sighs into his touch, legs parting gently. Slowly, she peels off her top and he loves the things her skin does to him. The sharp contrast of milky white against blue marbling her body, the only graceful and feminine thing about her and he wouldn't have her any other way. He finds her zipper, gives it a tug, and leans down to give her a lingering kiss on the skin exposed there.
"Got any advice?" She says at length and a part of him wishes she'd drop it.
He's not here to talk about Roland. It's been nearly a month or so since he's last been here and he's not sure how long she'll let him stay this time. When his eyes catch hers, he wants to tell her to fuck all and forget Hyperion, forget the Crimson Raiders – forget Roland – and just spend the rest of their days making love on this couch. But he doesn't. He never does. Instead, he tugs down her pants past her hips and makes do with the slice of heaven between her thighs.
"Play hard to get," he says, and she gives a doubtful little laugh that's more like a tired sigh. "Nah, really. It works on me."
The HQ was empty except for the two them, everyone out at the bar celebrating, and Mordecai feels strange without the comforting weight of Bloodwing at his shoulder. Raw. Uneasy. He takes another swig from the bottle never far from his hand these days to help take the edge off. Sometimes, he thinks she's just off hunting until he remembers she's not coming back. His thoughts haven't been quiet as of late and it's getting harder and harder to sit back and let things play out like before. It feels like he's on the wrong end of a scope and he's waiting for the bullet to pierce his skull.
Lilith lays her hand gently on his shoulder, and briefly, he likens the feeling to Bloodwing's comforting weight. Wordlessly, he pulls her in because for the first time in a long while, the hours have been dragging on forever and he's spent far too long thinking and there's nothing to stop them now. No guilt because the dead don't care. No one here to bring them back to reality. Just the two of them in this silence after the storm.
"I tried," she says, and her voice breaks with an eerie silent kind of sob, where the tears are falling but she's stoic and almost calm. "I fucked up. I should have listened and now he's dead. He's dead because of me."
"I know," he says, because he can't lie to her. If she had never shown up, Handsome Jack would've probably never tried such a desperate move to replace his catalyst. Sucks, but it only proves what he's always known. Shit just happens. Lilith never meant for Roland to die.
Since Roland's death, he's wanted to ask her sometimes if everything they've done since they stepped off that bus was worth it. If maybe... they should've just got off at the next station and said fuck all to any would be angels. If everything they worked so hard for really outweighed all the shit they just kept stepping in. Seems like that's all they ever did. But he doesn't ask. He thinks about it and keeps it to himself. They would've all just turned bandit anyway. Maybe it's better this way. This way... Roland died a hero. It suits him. He's always been the best out of all of them.
He wants to tell her he loves her, but he knows he never will. She'd probably just laugh because Lilith's not the kind of girl you'd bring home to mom and he knows she'll never settle for a white picket fence. Roland found that out the hard way. Instead, he puts down the bottle, the first time in weeks, and picks her up. Her legs automatically wrap around his waist and he hoists her onto the table Roland poured over for so many nights. The light casts her skin into a ghostly glow, and he thinks she's the most beautiful she's ever been.
"It'll be alright, Lil," he says, because it's what she needs to hear and he wants it to be true too.
Right now, he doesn't want to talk about Roland, or how they're guilty of so much worse shit in their lives. Instead, he kisses her collarbone and slowly makes his way to her lips. Most people... himself included now... just have to do anything and everything to keep from going crazy and get away from themselves. So when he traces his lips against hers, he get's lost in them in what feels like the first time in long while. They're wet and salty from tears, but when she makes a soft little sound of pleasure in the back of her throat, he doesn't mind at all. Her thighs tighten around his waist and she pulls him in impossibly further as her fingers bury themselves into his hair.
"I'll uh... try not to screw this up," she says with a soft little laugh, and he tries not too expect much. "Hell only knows you and Brick are all I've got left."
"You got me no matter what you do," he slips her fleece jacket past her shoulders and kisses the shell of her ear.
"Gee, thanks for that vote of confidence," she huffs but he can tell by now she's not all that annoyed.
"We're all fuck ups, babe," he murmurs against her lips and she smiles. It's small and cynical, just a little tilt of her lips, but it's there. "Just what we do."
And so, they get away for a few hours. And if Mordecai twists the cap off another bottle of booze and if Lilith still thinks of Roland the next day... it's alright. They're all fuck ups. Just proves what he's always known.
Notes: I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS SO ANGSTY. I'm just gonna blame this on my lack of nicotine at the moment since I'm trying to quit and chain smoking while writing makes everything so much easier. Don't worry, this chapter won't be the only chapter that'll feature these characters. Since they're all one-shots, I can try my hand at pairings multiple times. I shall write a funny and fluffy one yet! Might update... next week-ish. Maybe.