This one is a little on the slower end, but still, I would like to think the rhythm of the story can have a variety of pace. Slow stories and fast stories. Please leave a review- they really do help with the writing process. Anyways...

Hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter 4

She coughed from the smoke. It was heavy. With an inhale, she could smell the burnt butter. The edges of the chicken thighs were black, a sign that it was heated too quickly and too soon. She pushed a button, and the kitchen hood begins to hum, louder and louder- almost uncomfortable to Natalie's ears. The visible smoke tracing the air begins to simmer around the top of the hood. Underneath the hood, there was what seemed to be an attempt at Coq Au Vin.

She lifts the pan and winces as she dumps the chicken in the trash filled with coffee filters, excess onion skin, and ripped papers. Natalie does a half-prayer to Papa, almost apologizing for what happened. She'll get it someday. She then sits down on her couch, leaning against the cushions and feeling the back support press against her. She exhales a sign, still tired from cooking without the reward.

She had to eat something. Tomorrow was a new day with a new game. It was tradition: before each game, she would have a meal that her father used to cook for her. Maybe it was something to remember him by. Something tangible to let her know that no matter what, he was there to support her.

But now, her priority was to feed herself with something sustainable. Another snack wouldn't do. She grimaced, regretting her rejection of Makoa's invitation for dinner with Anita and Ramya. They were nice, and she would always consider them family. But collectively, they were loud and tough and noisy. They were booze nights surrounded by tv screens and arm wrestling. Collectively, she did not fit in.

She sighed. Renee was busy with Elliott, and she did not wish to be... the 'third wheel'. Renee was sweet, but she was someone different with Elliott. She felt that Renee became someone more comfortable with Elliot, something Natalie could not provide.

There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in her heart. A sharp pain that spread throughout her body and out to the tips of her finger and toes. Natalie was never alone: Dr. Nox, Renee, even Pathfinder the Robot. She had a family thanks to the Apex game. And yet, she realized that never being alone didn't mean you were never lonely.

What good was being social when she didn't have anyone to turn to?

...

...

No... she did have him, right?

She got up. She didn't stop herself. There were multiple opportunities to have a second or third thought. At the doorway, in the middle of the hall, on the elevator. She remembered his number when he first invited her. She remembered his home. Would she be invited again?

She stood in front of his door now. She lifted her hand to knock. The sensation of the nervous awareness slowly and strongly pulsed through her body. She took a deep breath and tried to relieve her tense shoulders.

The knocks were in line with the beating of her heart.

For a very painful second, there was no answer. She wondered if this was the right decision, to begin with. But it was too late to go back, at least, that's what she decided for herself. She was here. And more importantly, she wanted to stay.

So she knocked again. This time, in a rhythm he should know. It was the way she tapped her fingers when they worked together during Loba's relic search. He asked her what she was tapping to, and she responded it was a French lullaby. He must know.

The door opened.

Natalie sucked in a breath. His hair was wet, drooping down like a mop, making Natalie want to run her hair over to fluff it up again. He removed his piercings and no longer had the black layover against his ears. He was wearing a black shirt with gray sweatpants. It wasn't Crypto at the front anymore.

She was staring at Tae-Joon.

He looked over her, surveying the floor. He took a step back and without a word invited her in. She realized she brought him out, a dangerous risk that would jeopardize his identity: for her. There was a flush of touching embarrassment on her part, a guilt that she might be taking advantage of his trust in her.

"Merci."

"별거 아니야," he said. He closed the door, crossing his arms and leaning against its frame. There was a flicker in his eyes. He said no problem, but the way it would dart around the room, his constant search mode she's seen before, and Natalie knew that he was scared. "What brings you here?"

The words were more difficult off her throat now. "I, I..." She should have practiced, or anticipated, or prepared something to make this more reasonable. She was embarrassed now because it felt like she was here for a nuisance and she was being an inconvenience. Still, she spoke through. "I was hoping if you had some food and that-" she shifted her weight across her legs- "we could have dinner together?"

There was a pause shocked through her like an earthquake, a sensation that was shaking through her core with anxiety and made her palms sweaty and shoulders tense. Was he going to say no?

Crypto, startled and spoke: "I... I'm making dinner right now."

Her eyes pleaded, Please say yes. Let me stay. A part of her wondered now if this was solely about nourishment and the nutrition from food.

"And... I don't mind making for two."

After the flush of relief settled and soothed her anxiety, a flutter of excitement and gratitude followed. She smiled, ecstatic about this opportunity, this chance. There was a warm swell in her heart that seeped across her body. She was on her tiptoes and back down, on her tiptoes and back down again.

He scrunched his eyebrows. "What are you doing?" Superficially, he was confused. But Natalie could see the edges of a smile tracing against his lips.

"It's nothing." She placed her hands together and fumbled with her thumb. She swiveled her body, the way that was engrained through her as a kid to contain her excitement. "I owe you one!"

He waved his hand. "Don't mention it. After all, friends stick together." He turned his back on her too quickly for her to register his face along with the kind words. She wanted to see his sincerity.

He walked to the kitchen, and she trailed behind. She peaked her head over his broad shoulders by the tips of her toes. The room was clean- both in terms of design and status. Marble walls with wooden slates against the stove and sink. There were stacks of pans in various shapes lined against the stovetop. The colors sheer white and silver from the marble rested with the wood. To his right, there was a bowl with dark red meat fermenting in black liquid.

She sniffed.

Soy sauce. There was a tangy smell to it with a vinegar twist. She caught the smell of sesame oil and sugar, mixing into the air to create something new.

"What are you making, chef de cuisine?"

He shrugged. "Nothing special. Just some 불고기 with some rice and a salad."

He continued to explain the dishes, switching the flow of English smoothly with his native tongue. Natalie's ears perked up, trying to catch his words spoken in Korean. There was an intonation shift with each word that caught her ears. The words were steady and systematic. It was steady progress of syllables stacking on top of another. She liked it when she heard him speak his language. It was a different Crypto from who she knew before. Someone more... authentic. Honest.

"You should speak Korean more," she said.

He gave her a look- that small tug of the lips when he was all witty with her. It made her feel all mushy and giddy to see it. She knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth, it was going to be funny.

"그려면 못 알아들걸?"

She blinked before registering what he was intending. He laughed, and it clicked for Natalie. He turned his attention to food as if nothing happened and the conversation was over. She laughed along, softly shoving his right shoulder. "Non! Tell me what you said."

He swayed against the touch of her hand before standing straight again to turn on the stovetop. "I said that then you wouldn't understand what I'm saying. Which..." There was a flicker with the turn of a dial, and blue flame erupted. "I stand corrected. Not to mention the obvious, but you don't speak my language."

She rolled her eyes. It was true. They were both bilingual, able to connect through the English language. But still, for him to speak Korean meant something more. "How about a compromise? A balance?"

He examined the marinated beef. "And what would that be?"

"That we both use our langue maternelle, but only a phrase here and there!" There was a small flutter of excitement. This contract, almost like the inside jokes with friends, made her feel connected to him. There would be an intimate promise they would make. "It'll be our little thing."

Tae-Joon hovered his hand over the pan before pouring oil. A swivel of a pan, and they watched the Olive oil slug through the pan at a patient pace. "좋아," he decided. "Sounds like a deal with me."

He picked up the marbled meat that was thinly sliced and glazed with a thick syrup. The sizzling sound of the meat cooking was followed by the sweetly salty smell of its marinade. A hiss of the heat clashed against the food. She didn't realize how hungry she was. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She leaned against a marbled slate with cabinets underneath. She was tapping her fingers, finding a rhythm that would soothe her back to the present and be mindful. It was the sight of Crypto that made her mind anchor back to reality. There was a soft smile, so small that she might have never caught it, etched onto his lips. It was something about the chopsticks and the air that carried the sound of food frying against the hot pan. Crypto was domestic, and it was now Tae-Joon who was making dinner.

She wished he were more comfortable. It took too long for her to see him so relaxed, so... meek. It came across to her that no one- not Loba, not Lifeline, not Mirage, not anyone- will get to see Crypto as she can. It made her sad to think about it: he doesn't feel comfortable or safe enough to be Tae-Joon.

She walked over and latches her arms around his broad shoulders.

"뭔대?" he asks. He didn't sound annoyed. She runs her thumb against his black shirt, feeling the firmness of his deltoid. Maybe a bit startled, but she was catching a sense that he didn't mind this physical approach.

She pressed her cheeks against him. "I'm hungry," she complained. He chuckled, and Natalie wondered about how correct her intuition was. The noise was something she was sensitive to. People's feelings? Less so.

She wondered if her intuition to what they are was more or less correct, that it was proper for her to approach him this casually or intimately. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe she was actually in the wrong and instead, Crypto is just amusing her. "Do you mind this?"

With chopsticks, he stirred the meat. The sound of the sizzling grew. "What do you mean?"

"Contact physique. You never let anyone approach you. Well, you almost broke Mirage's arm when he tried to pat you on the back with some... some..." she struggled to find the word, fearing that the word 'ninja' might be too insensitive.

"It's called yudo," Tae-Joon said. "I've had to pick it up over the years along with some other moves." He gave that sly grin of his. "Let's hope Witt doesn't come to find out what they are." Before Natalie could inquire about the what's and the why's and the how's, he continued. "And you're right. I'm not used to hands on me, I guess."

She stiffened her hold of him. There was a crash of fear, sweeping her off the feet. She was always scared of messing up, of being too much.

He added, "I don't mind if it's from you." He darted his eyes away, intent on making sure the meat wasn't raw or burnt to a crisp. "Dinner's ready."

Her face was flushed from his sudden confession, and she was a little too warm in the kitchen. She lets go of him and watches as he scoops portions of rice with white steam shimmering in and out of her vision. He holds two plates, one for each hand, and gestures to the room.

"Come on, you must be hungry."

Before the Ghost quest, Natalie always wondered how a conversation with Crypto would have worked out. Ever since the beginning, she found him aloof and wry, a bully that would exert power with his wit. Based on his banter with Mirage, it felt that way. You know what's funny, Witt? Your kill counts. Fix that.

He was intimidating. Not in the ways like Revenant or Caustic. Crypto seemed to be a person who expects intelligence expressed through language. She wasn't the best at communication or talking, and she'll be the first to admit it. She thought her puns would be seen as childish at best and thus, she would be someone not worth caring for.

Natalie took a bite out of the food. Bulgogi, that's what he called it. There was a savory, salty flavor to it. She relished in the bite and took another. She took another. And another. If only Wattson then could see her now, eating with the Crypto.

"Slow down," he said with amusement. "You'll choke and the food isn't going anywhere."

"c'est delicieux!"

"Try it with the rice. It's often too salty on its own."

She complied, jamming that primitive, ancient instinct to cram the food into her mouth. Slowing the pace down, she was able to stare at the cook. He was leaning against his hand, food untouched. There was a softness in his eyes that she never remembered in the games.

"What do you think?" he asked. There was a wistful intent behind his voice. She smiled. Even he was the person to care about approval and satisfaction.

"Je l'aime. I love it, Tae-Joon."

The smile became more visible now, more concrete. He shifted his chair to lean on his crossed arms now on the table. The black shirt would fold across his forearms and biceps, tightening around their circumference.

"It used to be my favorite food as a kid," he said. "When Mystik took me in, she tried her best to accommodate what I was used to." There was a glint in his eyes, a wistful journey back to a time that was hard, yet precious. "She had a tough time with some of the foods. There were quite different from the... American food."

Ever since the meeting, she was slowly able to understand Crypto. She was able to see who was behind the legend. She was able to see his fears, his hopes, his dreams, and his personality. She was able to see his story. Each off-comment he made was a wealth of information that led her to have a tunnel-vision focus. She wanted to ask more questions with each answer he gave.

"How is the food different?"

He took a piece of rice with chopsticks settled against his fingers. On top, the meat rested like a cherry on a sundae ice cream. "Back in Earth, Korea was geographically diverse compared to its size. You would have mountains, rivers, plains, forests, and ocean all within a day's worth of reach and that meant, all sorts of ingredients for food. The four distinct seasons meant all sorts of styles necessary for survival. Lots of fermentation. Lots of spices combined in a variety. And that complexity requires tradition. So, for someone like Mystic, it's like learning a new language. It just isn't possible without someone who already knows the ins and outs of it.

"But this?" he gestures to the food still resting between his metal chopsticks, "is rather easy. It's intuitive. Rice and sauce on thin beef. And it's good." He took a bite. "This became comforting for me. It reminded me back when I was taught my language. My religion. My culture."

"It reminded you of home," she said.

He nodded before taking another bite. "It's been a tradition of mine, you know. To have Korean food for the dinner before the game."

She smiled. "I do that as well. Until I tried something to today and," she shook her head, little spurts of torque straining against her neck, "it did not go as planned."

"Wait, what happened?" he asked, there was a glint of amused curiosity across his eyes. "Don't tell me you burned down the room."

"Non, nothing like that!" She was laughing. A sense of relief pooled within her and she was glad he did not think she was incapable after such confession and instead, it was something endearing. Something silly. "Making good food is really hard."

"Harder than the Ring?"

She wagged her chopsticks. "You'd be surprised, Tae-Joon. At least science follows rules."

"Is cooking not science?"

"Non, de l'art."

Time watched the two talk. It would gently make its way into the night in a rhythm that was only noticeable when you paid attention. A look away, and you would find it gone. The last time Natalie saw the time was when it was etched across the dials of the oven.

It's been three hours since.

There was a whiplash of awareness for Natalie. The time spent during dinner felt like a blur. A pleasant, thrilling sensation of a ride that dissolved the minutes into nothing. Then and there, together with Tae-Joon, there was no future. There was only now.

But a glance at the clock and she felt like she was crashing down on reality again.

The thumping noise above her was real again. The hum from his computers was real again. He was washing the dishes now, and the sound of tap water running against the metal pan was real again.

The question was, were they?

She approached him at the kitchen sink. Her arms hugged around his broad back. She pressed herself further into him and there was a soft, yet firm pressure that was naturally there. Muscles. They function for physical movement and structural support along with the skeletal system. She soon learned that they did well to be an attraction as well.

She had to leave soon and back to her apartment. There would be the Nessie doll waiting for her, along with towers of files and gears littered around her room. She decorated her room to match her liking. Colorful posters and colorful pictures across the walls. Plants that give her a sense of nature. And yet, there was a tinge of sadness knowing that there was nothing to greet her back. She would be alone, facing the anxious thoughts and nerves before the game to the death. She wondered if the smell of smoke would still linger around. So, she hugged him tighter, trying to bask in what they were sharing at the moment before it was over, doing whatever she could to make the most out of this company- out of his company, that is.

"I don't want to leave," she admitted. She was scared but also expected his response to be curt. You have to. We have to prepare for the games tomorrow. The games where they kill for sport. They would be enemies, and she would see him through the scope of a Spitfire or R-99.

Could she pull the trigger? Would he pull the trigger had it been her?

"But you have to," he said. Tae-Joon was drying his hands now with a towel hanging against the rack. There was a small crashing feeling inside Natalie's stomach. Was this how you describe crestfallen? She contemplated just saying a thank you and leaving, soured by the idea that their time together ending bitterly.

"I'm going to miss you."

She looked up. "What was that?"

"I said," Tae-Joon was facing away again. His ears were red, something odd because she was so used to seeing it coated dark gray. "I'm going to miss you. I... I know, it's silly and all. But I've..." he was scratching his head now, "I really enjoyed your company tonight."

A flutter of warmth and fondness melted her. Right there and then, she jumps to him, arms reaching out. "Tu es la meilleure, ma cherie."

The redness painted on his ears was seeping through his cheeks now. "I thought you said no sentences, only phrases."

She giggled. She lifted herself to be on top of her toes and reach out to kiss his cheek. There was a sharp spark that tingled her lips against the warm contact of his skin. She lingered her face around his. They were exchanging eye contact now and the fluttering sensation inside of her burned.

"Soon?" she said weakly.

He nodded. "Soon."

There was a moment of hesitation on both ends. She gradually departed, hoping for more, wishing she could do more. But she's done enough and for now, they would slowly burn against one another. She was at the door now, a turmoil that told her she's leaving with what she wanted but not with she needed. A step out and Natalie wrestled with the feelings inside of her.

"Wait."

She turned back, surprised to find his physique so close, so soon. He bent over and kissed her forehead. "Thanks for coming," he said. There was an air of determined confidence as if he psyched himself to communicate before it was too late. "I'll see you again at the games tomorrow."

See you again.

He was right: that's what they do. They were legends and that meant they were fighters in the ring. But most importantly, they would see each other again. This wasn't the last time. She liked that. She liked the idea of that.

He lingered, hoping for more, hoping to do more. But he rested his hand back at the door frame, and they knew: it was time to say goodbye for the night. It will take time but she knew that there was more to come between the two of them. This was just the start. And that made it okay. It made the walk back home okay. It made the doors open, revealing the space that was empty and hollow, okay.

It made her okay.

So, she went to bed, having the energy to wrestle against the anxious thoughts and feelings to win a good night's rest. They would see each other again soon, both as legends and as Natalie and Tae-Joon.

They'll be together and that's what made it okay.