A/N: Woo, took me a while to get this finished. You can blame Iron Banner though. I needed that rank 5 for the book progress lol. Btw if anyone plays on ps4 and wants to add me as a friend hit me up and I'll give you my username and we can do some stuff. Heh. Didn't get any feedback on the last chapter but I'm assuming it's due to the rating change and the fact that if your story isnt rated K-T people have to go looking and change the filters. No biggie, but I do love hearing from you all, and I love advice and critiquing. So please please review. :) I hope you enjoy!
"She's already applied for a transfer," Cayde informed Vincent as he stood before the Vanguards. "Just after you returned from your mission today, actually. Said you guys weren't a good fit."
Vincent couldn't agree more. Mirena and Sam were constantly at odds, their personalities clashing at every turn. Vincent had tried to mediate between the two, but eventually Mirena's continuously reckless behavior had given him enough grief as well. She would be happier with more like-minded Guardians than she ever would be with the two of them. He nodded, internally sighing with relief that Mirena had at least had the good sense to realize it was time for a change.
"As for your medical condition," Zavala started, "it will take some time to find a replacement Hunter for your team. A week to heal will give us plenty of time to scour up a Hunter with a temperament closer to yours and Sam's. Take the time to heal, Guardian, so that you can return to duty fit and ready for a fight."
Focusing back on the papers stacked on the table before him, Zavala effectively dismissed him. Relieved that he'd have a few days to heal and rest, Vincent was about to leave when an idea struck him. Asking Cayde for a moment of his time, they moved away from the table to speak more privately.
"I ran into a Hunter the other day, quite literally, and she nearly took my head off for it. But when I saw her again in the Infirmary tonight, she seemed totally different. Almost shy. She's just about your height, maybe a few inches shorter with brown hair and haz-"
"I know which hunter you're talking about," Cayde said, cutting him off. "If you're here to lodge a complaint about her behavior, get in line. She's pissed off just about every Guardian that's ever set foot in the Tower, but she's one of my best Hunters so she's not going anywhere."
Vincent shook his head. "I'm not here to complain, not at all. I'm actually here to find out a bit more about her. She sort of… passed out before I could really ask her about her change of heart."
"Hmm. Well, it's not really my place to give out any personal information," Cayde said resignedly. There was a gleam in his eye though, as if he knew something Vincent didn't. The look almost made Vincent turn tail and forget he ever mentioned the Hunter. "But, I can tell you that she's not very good with people so she just says things sometimes. Whatever comes to mind, really. Whether or not she actually means all the nasty things that fly out of her mouth, well, that's for her to know."
"What team is she on?" Vincent asked.
"She's not on any team. Bad with people, remember?" Cayde flicked him on the forehead. "She runs solo ops for me, lone wolf type missions. Intel gathering, carrying out hits, that kind of stuff. It's all very secret and Hunter-y stuff, you wouldn't understand. Don't hurt your brain trying to comprehend, just go with it. Now," he crossed his arms. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," Vincent said, letting the Hunter's teasing remarks roll off of him. "She seems different. I thought I'd ask the person who knows most about everything that goes on around here." He wasn't hiding his attempt at flattery at all. After learning how to navigate Cayde's unique personality, he'd quickly realized that compliments were the best way to win the Exo's cooperation.
"Talk to her," Cayde said after a moment's consideration. "She's like a wild animal though, you can't move too fast. Let her come to you. If she asks you a question, you've got her. But you have to keep everything open or she'll start to clam up on you."
Starting to think he was getting himself in over his head, Vincent asked one last question. "What happened to her to make her so wary?"
Cayde stood very still, a dark look crossing over his face. Vincent had never seen him like this before. "The answer to that question lies hidden deep, kid. I don't even know what the hell happened to her. I may never know." He sighed a mechanical sounding sigh. "I just hope she can find someone she trusts enough to open up to someday."
Thanking him for his time and cooperation, Vincent left the Hall of Guardians, heading for the mess hall. Thoughts of the strange Hunter occupied his mind as he walked through the plaza and down the stairs into the northern part of the tower. He passed the Speaker's strange space, heading right through the black doors under the stone archway and into the cafeteria style area.
Standing in line to wait for his tray of tasteless mush, he didn't realize Sam was beside him in the line until the Warlock snapped his fingers in front of Vincent's face. Jerking out of his thoughts, he faced Sam, an exasperated expression plastered across his face. Sam was grinning, obviously in better spirits than he had been before. Shaking his head, Vincent moved forward with the line.
"So? How'd it go with the Vanguards?"
"Mirena filed for a transfer right after our debriefing."
"Wow. What a bitch. She left before we could kick her out! That takes the fun out of everything." Vincent chuckled at the full on pout Sam was displaying. With his predatory amber eyes, the expression was nowhere near convincing. When the Frame dishing out food plopped a generous helping of protein loaded paste onto his plate, Vincent thanked he robot and went to find a table.
Sitting with his back to the wall, Sam sat in the seat across from him. At this time of day, the mess was nearly empty, with most of the other Guardians off on missions during the day. It had only taken him about an hour to get patched up, assist with the Hunter's surgery, and have the Vanguards tell him that Mirena was no longer a member of the team, so there were still a few hours left until most of the Guardians returned for the night.
Forking a mouthful of the paste into his mouth, he tried not to gag at both the taste and the texture. It contained all the nutrients he needed to keep moving, so he'd suffer through the terrible flavor. Sam had never seemed to understand his aversion, claiming that the Tower's protein paste was the best he'd ever had. Vincent always tried to just get it down as quickly as he could and get it over with.
"What'd Siobhan have to say about your ribs?"
Vincent laughed. "You know her. She never says much about anything. But she gave me some numbing paste to rub on it every six hours. I also got to hold up an unconscious Hunter while she stitched up the gaping hole in her leg. And you'll never guess which Hunter it was."
Sam gaped at him. "Crazy Emily?" Vincent frowned. After telling Sam about his near-death experience with the woman, he had informed Vincent that the Hunter treated everyone that way whether the behavior was provoked or not, thus earning her the nickname. He hated it. Seeing Vincent's expression, Sam instantly sobered, apologizing.
"She's not crazy, Sam. She's just… different. She apologized for the other day and introduced herself before she passed out on me. It wasn't the unpleasant experience I was expecting when I saw her walk in. It was…civil. She seemed embarrassed about it almost. It was really strange."
"Is that why you were so lost in thought standing in line over there?" Vincent nodded. He'd had a lot on his mind lately, and the lack of sleep wasn't helping. He was beyond ready to just crawl in bed and pass out for as long as he could before the nightmares caught him in their grasp. With seven days to recover, he knew he'd at least be able to catch up on some sleep. And maybe, just maybe, start trying to tame the wild Hunter.
O.o.O.o.O
"Vince… Vincent! Wake up."
Sam's voice pulled him from deep slumber, and he started awake, gasping for breath. He'd been dreaming again, nightmares darker than the deepest black and mind-numbingly terrifying. Sam's interruption couldn't have been more timely. Vincent pulled the blanket up some, covering the black bruises mapping his right side.
"What is it, Sam?" Sam was smirking. Vincent's face fell. He had learned fairly quickly that a smirking Sam always meant trouble. He almost didn't want to know, but curiosity got the better of him. "Spit it out, will you?"
The smirk widened, and his eyes narrowed mischievously. Definitely not good. "You have company, Vincent. Shall I invite the visitor in? I think I should." Before Vincent could even process the words and form a reply, Sam was turning to open the door. "Come in!" Sam said brightly, his lean form blocking the doorway for momentarily before he stepped aside.
Eyes on the floor and limping heavily, a very uncomfortable looking Hunter made her way into the small room. Sam gestured to the desk chair opposite the stacked beds, and she gingerly moved to it and lowered her weight until she was sitting in the cushioned chair, hands folded neatly in her lap. She glanced at Sam before focusing her eyes on her fingers.
Sitting up with his feet planted firmly on the floor, Vincent tried to keep as much of himself covered as he could. He knew she'd already seen the scar, but he still felt better with it hidden. It was an ugly reminder, and he'd rather not have any more attention drawn to it than necessary. Running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his face, he cleared his throat.
"Thank you," she blurted, as if she couldn't get the words out fast enough. She met his eyes, her hazel stare unwavering despite her nervous countenance. "Siobhan told me what you did, helping her stitch me up. I just wanted to say thank you."
Vincent's brow furrowed. Thank him? He'd barely done anything but stand there and let her lean on him. It wasn't as if the weighed much, so it wasn't difficult to hold her up for a spell. The doctor had done all the work. "You don't need to thank me," he stated. "I didn't really do much of anything." Sam snorted where he leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. Vincent shot him a glare and the Warlock did his best to smother his laughter.
Glancing between the two men, she seemed confused by Sam's obvious amusement. Vincent stood, turning his back to the nervous woman as nonchalantly but as quickly as he could. Keeping his right arm firmly at his side to minimize the discomfort of his battered ribs, he pilfered through his nearby stack of clothes in search of a shirt. Finding a hooded jacket and figuring it would do the job just as well as a t-shirt, he stuck his arms through the holes and prepared himself for the pain he knew was coming. Sucking in a deep breath, he did his best to get into the jacket as quickly and painlessly as possible. He was only somewhat successful.
Wincing at the burning sensation lifting his arm had caused, he pushed the sleeves of the jacket up to his elbows and resumed his sitting position on the side of the bed. He'd felt her eyes on him throughout the process, and he did his best to pretend like he hadn't noticed. She looked a little more relaxed now, but there was still a tautness in her muscles that spoke volumes of the tension she felt. "You really didn't need to come here and thank me. Anyone else would have done the same." Hoping his words would allow her to leave the room and find somewhere she could be more comfortable, he was mildly surprised when she didn't move.
Meeting his eyes again, but with a steely gaze this time, she pursed her pale lips before speaking. "No, they wouldn't have," she said quietly. "I should go," she said as she stood, using the chair and desk to help take the strain off her injured leg. As she moved towards the door, Sam reached out to help her, gently grasping her left arm just above her elbow. She stiffened at the contact and immediately shrugged his hand away, putting some distance between them. The fleeting look of fear on her face didn't escape Vincent's notice, but he kept quiet. Like a wild animal, indeed.
Halfway out the doorway, she paused, turning back and fixing her gaze upon Vincent once again. "Thank you," she said again. She limped away down the hallway, but Vincent's voice stopped her in her tracks before she turned the corner.
"You're welcome," he called after her. She paused, giving him a strange look, and then she was gone. Closing the door, Vincent put his back flat against it, his shoulder blades pressing against the painted wood. He gave Sam a look out of the corner of his eye, brows raised.
"That was weird," Sam said, bewildered. "I guess she doesn't like being touched?"
"I really don't know, Sam." Sitting in the chair the Hunter had previously occupied, the Warlock bent his head thoughtfully. "Don't stress yourself too much over it. It may just be that not all women swoon at the sight of you."
Sam chuckled, looking sheepish. Scratching the back of his head a few times, he gave Vincent a determined look. "I guess I'll just have to keep trying then, wont I?" Vincent shook his head, wondering why Cayde hadn't made a bid for the young Sam when he first arrived at the Tower fresh from training. He certainly seemed to have more Hunter qualities than he did any Warlock ones, but he supposed maybe the Vanguards had seen something in the young man that Vincent couldn't.
"Let's go get something to eat," Vincent suggested. "Hopefully the nutrient paste tastes a bit better than it has since I got here." Sam laughed before following his teammate, and friend, out the door.
O.o.O.o.O
The Authorities were coming. Those two idiots had gone off and made stupid comments-threats- and now came the admonition. His mother had fetched him from the woods where he'd been hunting, screaming about not having enough time, they were coming, he had to help get the children underground to safety.
Abandoning the hunt, he'd run home as fast as his legs would carry him. His father was ushering people to and fro, directing the flow of bodies like a stone directs the flow of a river. He tried not to notice the panicked expression his father's usually stern face wore, but there was no time for questions or disobedience.
They were coming.
He grabbed Sybil, her tiny legs unable to keep up with the frenzied pace of the people around her. His mother was shouting at him to hurry, hurry, hurry. There was no time. Taking one of the other younglings by the hand, he led them out of the house and to the storage shed, where he set Sybil down to uncover the trap door and open the way down into the bunker.
Ushering the gaggle of children down the steep stairs, he handed Sybil off to his younger sister, instructing her to keep the six year old close to her breast and to try and keep the little ones calm. His mother was hurrying across the open span of lawn between the main house and the shed, herding the remaining children towards him. He helped them down, and then his mother was pushing him, panic in her voice.
"You have to go with them," she was saying. "You have to protect them! You're only children, they won't hurt you when they find you."
He wanted to argue with her, to tell her that he was no longer a child, but a man grown, and that he could help fight if that's what it came down to. But she was pushing him, punching him, shoving him down the stairs. He could feel his own panic rising at her behavior. Still not fully understanding the situation, he wanted to ask questions. He wanted her to come down as well, even though it was a selfish desire. To have his mother close would be a reassurance for all the children, but even more so for him.
But she was lowering the trapdoor overhead, slowly pushing him further down the ladder, deeper into the earth. "Mum, please, tell me what's happening, come with me, please mum, please."
He begged, hot tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks, but it was to no avail. She closed the door over his head, leaving an image burned into his mind. His mother's face, her expression terrified but full of love, framed by the midafternoon sunlight.