She especially likes his hands, and she isn't sure why.
They, like the rest of him, are nothing special. They're skilled in many ways: pulling triggers at the rate of a stenographer; manipulating the photons that aid them both; lifting her if she needs it; touching her when she wants it. But none of that really warrants the amount of attention she places on them.
They're calloused, much like her own. They aren't particularly attractive or gnarled. They spend a great deal of time covered with gloves, but she doesn't mind. It's still him underneath the heavy materials, and she can recognize that from under her own gloves just from the way he shifts the tendons and muscles.
He spent so much time earlier on refusing to hold her hand, despite the heated moments, that she memorized it on the rare occasion he'd cave. Well, it wasn't that he refused such an act. He refused in public and she didn't get around to asking while in private for a while. After she had, he'd been more than willing to let her explore and simply hold on as much as she liked. It was always warm and almost overwhelmingly comforting, and all the more after he had voiced that he also enjoyed the contact.
She found that the way he responded did in fact change over time. At first, he'd hesitate before firmly returning the grip and look at her questioningly when she'd give a squeeze. Now, his fingers immediately wrap around hers as if the interaction was choreographed and pauses before returning the squeezes. Instead of asking, he analyzes the reactions she makes since he knows them so well by now. After all of her doubts, she's pretty sure she knows his reactions by now, too.
And right now, she knows he's afraid.
His hand is trembling only slightly, just like it did only a few short months ago. Their weapons are sheathed but ready to be drawn the moment the signal is given; their recovery supplies have dwindled from the last several battles they faced a mere hour earlier; their heads are bowed while they clench their teeth or bite their own mouths and try their hardest to keep their breathing steady to pretend that they don't want to run away.
And for once, there's no physical warmth. Both of their extremities have lost heat from exhaustion, the malfunctioning climate control, the dampness left over from sweating, and the fear that had set in.
But she feels the warmth on the inside as they both grip a little tighter. The other ARKS ops standing in the teleporter go unheeded as they did when The Elder attacked. Nobody's eyes are on them, but he wouldn't care even if they had been.
They're both scared of what exactly they might face once mission control finishes the briefing.
They're both scared of not coming back.
They're both scared of the other not coming back.
They're both scared that this might be the last time they feel the familiar grip of each-other's hand.
During the short flight here, they both saw dreams where they felt the grip loosening until falling away entirely.
But they don't say so. They don't exchange any words before or after the briefing.
"Three..."
As the countdown begins, they look up for the first time and— his trembling lessens, he squeezes her hand and he smiles for her. It isn't his usual grin, it isn't weak, and it isn't confident—
"Two..."
—she can't describe it or begin to explain why, but it makes her feel incredibly assured. Not confident or safe, but assured. She herself isn't sure what that means, but her own hand stops trembling and she returns the smile and pressure.
"One..."
Their blood pumping properly again, they take a fresh breath, let go and ready their weapons.
"Go."
The teleporter activates and they're disoriented only a moment before the sound of a ticking clock echoes out.
Written: May 8th 2014
I didn't start this with that second half in mind. I just thought of her being very fixated on his hands. I don't think I could have portrayed a tender moment that gets it across very well anyway.
But I naturally go straight for darker places, and Draco Flux Rooster just came out recently. I wondered before how they might have faced Elder... Actually, I'd like to know how all ARKS fight Elder and Loser? Are ALL of us really jumping on them? Are there multiple clones of it? I don't get it... Maybe there's just so many people injured from the fights against the hands or Apos that there's hardly any ARKS left who can fight, so all of who's left face against the big boss.
Though, realistically, Sherri and Chroto probably wouldn't make it to the end if that's how it worked. They'd live, but they'd probably be entirely too worn out or injured to be of any use.
By the way, a bit of trivia, for those who don't keep up with the in-universe calendar:
You fight Loser only a little more than three months after you fight Elder. Time flies.
