7

Los Angeles, Terra

2019

"Terra changes drastically," Eden observes. Her eyes trace a line between the smog visible in the rolling summer heat above the city and the bustle of human traffic they are squeezing through, connected by Orion's firm grip around her elbow. In her time, the population is great but it is no longer as taxing on the planet thanks to the Terran colonies and superior renewable technology. And she would certainly never be so at-risk of touching another being in a dense crowd - all beings tend to avoid brushing past a Giidas, if they can. Now, in this past version of a world where she has made a life for herself, the density is choking - both the constant low-level sense of the emotions around her, now so strangely loud as if her own shielding has been compromised, and in the toxic vapor in the air.

Eden does not like it. But she says nothing to Orion, taking in the stiff line of his back.

He has not stopped moving since they arrived in the 21st century, his posture tense and alert, gaze intent. She has watched more than one human avert their eyes from him, edging out of his way by sheer instinct. She has benefited from this by proxy as only a few humans have been close enough to touch her bare skin.

"It is better in the future," she continues, ignoring the look a pedestrian sends her after overhearing her comment. "Cleaner."

Her observation is met with silence from her companion. Having grown accustomed to Orion's many moods, she expected nothing else.

He has a singular focus as the sun sets on this hot city. Upon arriving just off the main street, a bypasser had made a comment about their drenched clothing, the salt-soak scent ripe even to weak human senses. Their attire is, for lack of a better word, rather outlandish. On top of being bizarrely wet, some humans seem to think they have come from some sort of "convention". Eden, who has lived on Terra for several years in her own time, understands the concept of these "conventions" but finds it rather jarring that pedestrian humans would be so bold as to make any audible comments. The nearly visible weight of pollution hanging like a shroud over the city is not the only thing that has changed about Terra. Eden thinks humans are more restrained in her time. There is a sense of wildness that sets her on edge here - or she is still reeling from the direct contact with Orion's skin back on New Neptune.

He had given her the breath of life. He had also given her full access to the complexity of his mind and her immutable memory is ruminating over everything she had absorbed in those few seconds. He is -

Eden's gaze settles briefly on the firm, yet gentle grip he has around her clothed elbow. Always so balanced, she thinks. He tries very hard.

But he has taken something from her. Energy of some sort. She had been in his mind - she had watched his synapses bloom like flowers deprived of water. He is a Xianian, she has learned, and Xianians require psionic sustenance. Usually, this sustenance is taken from the various energy fields in the environment, such as the now-destroyed Xianian home planet, which was rich in a magnetic field that helped its people evolve into energy-manipulators. But away from the home planet, and as one of the last of his kind, Orion has been feeding his biology with the barest traces of similar energies from his environment. He has also been half-starved, unable to come across anyone who has a large enough reserve of psionic energy to supplement this aspect of his biology.

That is, he had not come across anyone until her. Eden's first theory is that the genetic manipulation of her family line has increased the natural storage of her energy, or perhaps it is simply the fact that she is largely Giidas. Perhaps Giidas are not as intensely populated three thousand years from her own time and so Xianians like Orion have not been exposed to another potential source of energy.

She supposes it doesn't matter. In this time, in this moment, it so happens that she is a source of nutrients for the one that is protecting her from assassination - and the brief brush of their skin as he breathed life back into her body was exposure enough to partially fill his half-starved reserves. For the sake of practicality, he should essentially "feed" from her more often. After all, the more energy he can sustain himself with, the better protected she will be.

She will have to bring it up. Particularly because she does feel rather tired. Aside from nearly drowning, Orion siphoning energy must also cause a physical drain. How interesting. She has many questions…

Orion manages to take them off the main road once he spots a machine tucked into the nook of a brick building. Eden only recognizes the machine from older Terran texts, so she understands that Orion is using some advanced technology to confuse the ATM into spitting out Terran paper money. She observes over his shoulder, curious despite the theft. But she supposes there is a rather pressing need. It's hard to stay undercover anywhere when they visibly stand out from the locals.

Much to her resignation, Orion then scours the street until he comes to a store full of thrifted clothing. Inside, a young human lounges behind a glass counter and grumbles a greeting, eyes locked on a rather clunky, flat device Eden identifies as a smartphone. She drifts along after Orion, who is conducting a perfunctory scan of the available clothing. When Eden comes across a white, long-sleeved blouse, he sighs deeply. His own selection, she notes, is just as black as his usual uniform. She does not know why he takes umbrage with her own selections, although she does note he makes a point of including more clothing items than strictly necessary. A good idea so they will have supplies in the future. They have not been very prepared for this adventure.

The young human who manually processes their transaction raises a brow at their drenched appearance. "What did you do, jump in the ocean?"

Eden blinks. "Yes."

The human shoots her an odd look with a drawn-out, "Okay. There's a laundry mat two blocks south, right across from a cheap hotel. You want change?" they ask Orion, who nods and receives several nosy coins in exchange.

Orion pockets the coins, takes the bags of clothing, and hustles them out of the shop. They indeed go to the laundry mat, where they push the coins into washers to launder their soaked clothing after changing into the thrifted goods. Eden, who has been surrounded by superior technology for her entire life, is torn between fascination and distaste. The entire process is so inefficient. Sonic cleaners are much better, but they will not be invented for at least another three hundred years.

To her dismay, the state of technology is not the only thing that is antiquated. As they are watching their clothes spin in sudsy water, a tall human enters the laundry mat, his sunburned skin covered with a graphic reading Flat Earth Society. Eden is unable to stop herself from staring and her attention eventually catches the human's attention. He looks her up and down, somewhat cocky as he says, "Can I help you?"

"This shirt," Eden starts, tilting her head. Beside her, Orion stiffens. "Flat Earth Society. What does it mean?"

The human laughs. "Means the Earth is flat, baby, what else?"

"Ridiculous," Eden says sharply, straightening in her hard plastic seat. She hears a sigh at her side, which she ignores in favor of staring the human down with a furrowed brow. "The curvature of the Earth is an established fact-"

The human snorts. "It's a liberal hoax, just like vaccines and global warming," he says, his gaze now as rude as his tone.

"Inoculation is one of the greatest advancements medical science has ever made," she retorts. "The first vaccinations date back to-"

"Look, lib, I'm not about to let the government microchip me. It's my body, my choice! Vaccines make people sicker! Look at all the kids with autism!"

It's very rare that Eden ever feels true frustration but she can sense heat in her eyes and knows that their color must have flashed red, even just briefly. It's enough that the human stumbles back, banging his elbow into a machine in alarm.

"Illogical! Where is the proof of such baseless-"

"Eden," Orion cuts in firmly. His hand is high on her shoulder, thumb pressing into her collarbone through the thin cotton of her Terran clothing.

"This human believes the Earth is flat," she says to him with urgency. "He says the global warming is a hoax, despite the Great Heat of 2032, and that vaccines cause sickness, in spite of the pandemic that will-"

"Eden," Orion says again, his hand tightening ever so slightly, even as he stands. He holds eye contact, expression utterly serious. "You can't change his mind. You are forbidden from trying to change his mind. His ilk doesn't bear out from what I recall of Terran history. Saying anything more may draw attention here."

Eden falls silent. She's appalled by her lack of control - but then, she does not feel quite herself at the moment. Tired and wrought out. Stressed. The situation of continual danger is getting to her, despite the fact that her mental training as a Giidas should allow her emotional control. And yet this behavior, it's uncharacteristic of herself -

It must be because of Orion -

Her energy is depleted. She is, at the moment, unmoored. Perhaps this is understandable, but not excusable. For the first time since very early childhood, Eden presses her lips together and gathers her hands into her lap, fingers curled protectively into her palms.

She watches mutely as Orion approaches the human and uses a device that shines a light into the human's eyes. The device causes the human to blink rapidly, and then stare around in confusion. The human scratches his head, mutters about his laundry, and leaves the laundry mat.

"You have to be more careful in the past," Orion says, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face. She can clearly see the signs of stress on him, too.

How long have they been traveling together? Jumping through time has created flaws even in Eden's prodigious memory. She knows it has been several weeks, maybe longer. It seems Orion's mission wears on him, as well, even if he is ostensibly accustomed to this type of stress. He has not been able to rest and she has not made it easy for him. She knows that very well.

"I understand," she tells him, gathering her emotions together. She will need to meditate later, rebuild the walls in her mind. Eden cannot and will not tolerate these...outbursts. If she intends to assist Orion later, and she does, then she will need a strategy to handle the - aftereffects.

Eden does not allow her mind to stray to the strange sights of 21st century humans living on polluted Terra as Orion arranges accommodations for them. She keeps her gaze carefully locked onto his back, studying the strong shape of his shoulders and tapered waist. She hasn't spent too much time noticing it before, but there are dozens of tiny flecks against his pale skin - moles, almost, but more regular in size and shape and even pattern. She has seen these markings flutter with iridescent color not unlike Orion's eyes. She wonders what they mean.

Eden is so caught up in theories - either the markings are made by the Alliance, which she finds unlikely given she has seen, even briefly, other Alliance assassins in Orion's rank who were decidedly unmarked, or the markings are related to his Xianian heritage. That they can glow under specific circumstances, to which she has not detected a set pattern, is very interesting. She wonders -

"You should wash up first," Orion says after he surveys the room, checking the sole, slightly-grimy window, pulling the heavy curtains closed tightly, locking the door. He is looking at her with an expectant expression. "I'll arrange for food. Do not go anywhere."

Eden tilts her head at the warning in his tone, then nods as she parses the plan. She doesn't imagine that he will stray very far and, from what she has glimpsed of Xianian senses, he would be able to hear if she were in danger from a reasonable distance. And that says nothing of his instincts, which have been honed to sense and predict danger. She imagines he would not leave her unprotected unless he was reasonably sure she would be, for the moment, safe left alone.

"We must speak when you return," she says as he passes by, his arm just barely brushing her shoulder.

Orion pauses and turns, looking down at her with a deep furrow in his brow. The scent of ocean still clings to him, but there is a natural musk beneath that that draws her senses up. He stands so close due to the smallness of the space and his body radiates heat, just as it always does. Orion's light-colored eyes flit around her face and his jaw ticks, just once, before he nods seriously. He leaves Eden in the motel room with its faint scent of dampness and acrid cigarette smoke, but it is not without some hesitation.

Eden attributes the singular skip in her heartbeat to more lingering effects from their - closeness. It could be nothing else.

You bit me.

You bit me.

You bit me-

Orion hates that it's the only thing running through his head, a constant loop of a whispered phrase, the intonation utterly flat except for a mild hint of what might have been disbelief. But he's kidding himself. If she was shocked, then he would never know it. She's probably already forgotten about it - their lips pressed together, the salt of the water seeping between the seal of their skin, her taste beyond that - her energy -

You bit me.

Orion wants to punch something. But he can't, and since he can't, he sticks to his task of buying food - hopefully sustainable, preservable food. He's quickly growing tired of jumping around time without any preparation or supplies. Anything he had on him at the start of this mission has either been used or left behind. What they can carry in quantum spaces, they should. Now that the Alliance has found them, whether by accident or not, it's important to be prepared for the inevitable.

He enters the first store he finds that sells food and heads straight toward the first aisle. He isn't sure what to buy. In his own time and as an assassin, most of his sustenance is delivered in nutrient rations or water pods, although he knows the rich do source their own true-food meals and other divisions are known to eat replicated food still. Faced with crinkling bags of raw, dried, and processed food, Orion isn't sure what to choose.

Quantity must matter more than anything. Bags of dried meat, nuts, and fruits are piled into his arms. He doubles up on the fruit after a moment, remembering that Giidas are not typically meat-eaters and to date, he has not seen Eden partake any food with meat. Satisfied with those selections, he browses through a section of prepared food packed in plastic squares. This would be food for now, he decides, piling sandwiches, salads, and cold pasta into his arms. When he goes to purchase his items, he ignores the perplexed expression on the human's face. For one person, the amount of food he plans to purchase is a lot; for two, it's more than they will need for several weeks. Buying this amount of food from what a convenience store is admittedly excessive. The human's expression is still irritating.

What Eden said to that human at the laundry mat was dangerous, but she wasn't wrong. Humans of the 21st century are a different breed. He much prefers humans closer to his own time; they, at the very least, tend to reserve their visible or vocal judgment, perhaps taking after the aliens in their midst.

Weighed down with his food purchases, Orion walks briskly back to the motel. He spares a thought for why Eden had acted so unrestrained herself - he'd even seen a flash of red in her eyes, the first color he's seen from her in all their time together. Red for frustration, irritation? He has no idea and he has even less of a clue of why that human, of all the things they have experienced, caused that reaction in her.

You bit me.

Orion is still scowling, both preoccupied with his thoughts and hypervigilant of any signs of danger his newly-enriched senses can detect, as he enters the motel room. The bathroom door is closed and beyond it, he can hear running water. It's not the first time Eden has bathed while he was in an adjoining room; he will not have any feelings about it.

You bit me.

"Fuck," he sighs, dropping the bags and rubbing his face, tired of himself and the situation and the Alliance and everything.

He stares down at the bags of food for a minute, gathers himself, and then goes about sorting everything out. It would be stupid to be the only one carrying food, so he separates items into two sections for the preserved food, then puts his share into his personal storage, which is already loaded with his favored weapons. Leaving the rest for Eden to pack away, Orion then pops open a plastic square containing a sandwich and rips into it, aggressive even in this.

It's then that Eden exits the bathroom, steam billowing around her head. Orion stares for just long enough to process that her Terran clothes are sticking to damp curves before he forces his eyes away and catches her muted gaze. Her eyes are back to tepid grey, her face as blank as ever when she approaches him.

"You should eat," he says, shoving another bite of sandwich into his mouth.

Eden hums, eying the food for a moment. "Not yet. We must speak."

You bit me.

Orion doesn't really want to talk. He wants to eat, shower, and sleep while he can, and hopefully between all of that, he can forget what her body felt like in his arms, what her lips felt like against his, and what her energy feels like as it courses through his core.

"You were hungry," Eden observes, sitting on the bed gracefully. Why is it that everything she does is so damn graceful?

Orion grunts. "The food isn't bad."

Eden's brows lift. "That is not the hunger I was referring to," she says. Then, blunt as ever, she continues. "Xianian's require secondary sustenance to sustain themselves. You have been nearly starving for several years because you can no longer access an adequate resource to feed your reserves of energy. This is causing a straing on your health, particularly your mood, your ability to heal, and your reflexes. I would assume your energy-related abilities have also been stunted, which is why you seem to rely so heavily on physical defense when it must surely be more instinctive to use -"

Orion struggles not to outright gape at his scientist as she continues to rattle off her assessment of his health and other facets of his Xianian biology she seems to have deduced. She knows an astounding number of details, and even though he has no intention of confirming any of her suppositions, it's still -

Does she care?

He hastens to cut her off. "How do you know - any of this?"

"Giidas are touch-telepaths," she says, as if reminding him. "Although I am only part Giidas, I have inherited a sensitivity to the absorption of thoughts and emotions of others when I come into contact with them. All I have learned about you has come from our recent exchange."

If he's honest, Orion feels a bit horrified by this knowledge. It doesn't match up with the little he knows about Giidas, either. "I thought only your hands…?"

"Perhaps for others," she acknowledges. "My family is unique in our abilities. While my brother and parents have psi-sensitivity in their hands, my sensitivity extends to all of my skin. I also do not require any contact with traditional psi-points to access surface thoughts and feelings."

That's right. Both her parents were lab rats. Makes sense that she would reflect that in her own way. Makes sense why she covers up all of her skin usually, too. He's been careful about not having direct contact with her hands, but it seems his efforts are moot. The first time he had any sustained contact with any of her skin was only a few hours ago and she effortlessly learned about things about his health he has been actively hiding for the last ten years.

"Right," he mutters. "Well, it won't happen again."

"Touching me?" she asks.

Orion stares. "Siphoning your energy," he clarifies. Avoiding any touch at all would be preferable, of course, but he's realistic enough to realize that wouldn't be possible in their situation. And Orion won't imply promises he won't be able to keep.

"Foolish."

He throws her a look. "What?"

"That's a foolish decision," she tells him, sitting so primly on the bed, looking up at him with the faintest determined furrow on her brow. "You are tasked with protecting me. You can't provide full protection when you are starving yourself- "

"I've been protecting you just fine," he fires back.

"I have energy that is compatible with your needs," she continues, heedless to the warning glare he levels at her. "It's in our best interest to ensure all of your needs are being met. If I can supply the sustenance you require, then I should."

Orion almost can't believe what he's hearing. But considering the source, it isn't that absurd. Eden is approaching this from a rational view, and of course it all makes sense logically. But that isn't -

Xianian's don't -

You bit me.

Logic has no place here. Not for this.

"Not possible," he denies swiftly. He firms his jaw, arms crossed over his chest. He can't look at her when he says, "There isn't any...intimacy."

Eden is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. "I do not understand," she says. "If it is intimacy that is required, then this plan still has merit."

Orion snaps his gaze toward her, shock obvious in his tone. "What?"

Eden appears as calm as ever. "You find me attractive," she explains placidly, as if she weren't revealing something he was fully comfortable with never vocalizing. Damn telepath. "I find you attractive," she continues candidly, still without any inflection. "If a physical connection is-"

Oh, fuck. She's talking about sex. She's talking about sex the way people talk about the weather or the way Vo'ongi talks about ammunition recharges. She's just offering -

Orion shuts the thought down before his damn mind can run away with him. If he doesn't acknowledge it, then he doesn't need to feel bad about that fantasy buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, a by-and-by thought any male attracted to a female might have -

"No," he interrupts, his ears hot. "Not just physical. It wouldn't work."

Eden tilts her head at him. He might be imagining the flash of orange in the grey of her gaze. "Xianians prize emotional connection," she states.

Orion grimaces. He's going to have to explain and he truly doesn't want to - but he knows well enough by now that Eden wouldn't be dropping the subject unless there were some kind of reason. And even then, it's a gamble between whether or not his reason was logically or, apparently, morally sound, since these two factors are what seemed to drive her own actions.

Very firmly repressing the urge to leave the room just so he doesn't have to discuss this topic, Orion settles at the other end of the bed. Fuck this motel for only having one bed. He'd be sleeping on the floor, especially after Eden's helpful suggestion just now.

"It's not right to share energy with someone unless there is a bond," he replies reluctantly.

He refuses to acknowledge the thought that his emotional connection to her likely wouldn't be a fucking problem at this point. He also refuses to acknowledge that, having already successfully siphoned her energy, his feelings must not be entirely one-sided - even if she doesn't realize it, there must be something... But then, even if Orion can take her energy, even if she's offering, he wasn't raised to share energy without a bond. If that's the only value of his parents that he can hold onto after all these years, then he'll die before he parts with it.

"Not unless it was an emergency," he tacks on, thinking about the salt on his skin and the echo of her plush lips against his. "Some circumstances make it easier."

Eden blinks at him. "You do not consider the danger we are in to be an emergency."

He snorts rather rudely. "I have been in danger for over ten years. I've been in more dangerous situations than this," he tells her bluntly. "So, no, I don't consider this an emergency."

Eden seems to consider this for the briefest moment. "I see. But it is your choice," she says. "We have more pressing concerns at the moment."

"Oh, do we?" he asks sardonically, his ears still hot. The markings on his skin flicker with interest and more energy than he is used to having.

You bit me.

Fuck, he needs sleep. Space. Something.

"Yes," she answers very seriously. "The Alliance found us on New Neptune. How is that possible?"

Orion releases an empty laugh, rubbing his hands through his hair. She moves on so quickly. It's as if she hadn't just boldly, blithely offered to have sex with him so he could feed on her rather generous energy. With his denial, she seems to have immediately shelved the thought and moved on to the next problem. He can't even fathom it, but he does his best to keep up. Lingering on the thought of sharing her bed, of nestling between her thighs as easily as he could nestle into her energy, won't do anyone any good.

"How are they finding us?" he repeats, shaking his head. "Honestly, it's amazing they've taken this long. The supercomputers built by the Alliance to keep track of the flow of time are incredibly, damnably precise. Every movement we make leaves a mark, particularly you since you're a walking singularity. Now that they've successfully tracked down suspicious blips in the time stream, they can easily lock onto our signal. They probably started to track us as soon as you disappeared from your time. The chase is inevitable."

Eden appears mildly thoughtful. Her eyes come to rest on the jumper strapped to his arm. "Is your device not untraceable?" she asks, although her tone suggests that he would be very dumb to admit to using traceable technology in this situation.

Orion lifts a brow. "It's been scrubbed by Matthis, one of my group, but there's only so much he can do. And no," he says quickly, catching the sudden fixed attention Eden gives the jumper. "You aren't touching it."

At this, Eden appears somewhat affronted. "I'm the foremost expert on developing advanced technology in my time," she points out bluntly. "Given the projects I was working on at the time of my assassination, I likely created the building blocks of the technology you use. It is rather similar to quantum travel -"

Orion scoffs. "Oh, so you were such an expert then that nobody could surpass you?"

Eden is quick to answer, evidently not catching his sarcasm. "Precisely. Given the likelihood that the Alliance would be able to work with someone of my capabilities or beyond my capabilities, it seems obvious that my inventions are still the foundational blocks of your technology."

Orion shakes his head, torn between amazement and irritation. "Your arrogance is astounding," he tells her.

Eden doesn't have the grace to appear insulted. "Is it arrogance if it's supported by statistical probability?"

Orion doesn't even bother to answer that. Like so many other things, ignoring what Eden says seems like the best course of action. He stands up from the bed and moves to the cramped bathroom. "Look, we should rest here for a while, a couple of days if we can. After that, we need to move on," he announces briskly. "Eat some food and sleep while you can. And store the rest of that, will you?"

Eden watches him silently. He's been in too many combat situations to be unnerved by that stare - and yet -

"Hn."

Orion carefully filters the other parts of their conversation - her suggestion - out of his head. He has to focus. He can't get distracted.

Terra is unseasonably hot for the time of year, but given when they are, this is not shocking to Eden. The Great Heat destroyed countless fields of produce and created a threat of global famine that lasted for more than a generation before the ozone healed itself to reverse the worst of climate change - and then, for the next five centuries, the entire planet was thrust into the opposite end of the climate spectrum with an ice age that forced rapid technological growth so Terrans could sustain themselves. Naturally, none of these 21st century Terrans truly recognize the consequences of their actions or the backlash the planet would undergo while trying to return to homeostasis. But they are not, of course, the only people to harm their planet and have regret; they are, however, guilty of the most unchecked harm.

Eden is both fascinated to be a witness to this and also disturbed by the continued ignorance. She watches another vehicle pass, its tail releasing heavy carbon that visibly smokes the air, and feels her lips twitch into a frown. Unlike other planets, there is no action she could take at the moment that would be of any help. She can only bear witness as she walks by Orion's side, dutifully keeping within arms reach as they venture outside of the motel they have stayed in for the past two days.

Orion is insistent that they remain moving. Staying in 21st century Terra for a while seems acceptable to him, but their specific location should be transient. Eden has no problem with this. Her curiosity is forever active, and she would like to see more of this old Terra, even if the inhabitants are rather baffling.

When she asks where they will go, Orion cuts his eyes to the side, ever watchful, and says, "We'll see."

Given what happens only hours later, this statement is ironic. For Eden, seeing is a challenge she will need to learn to overcome.

Later, Orion will cast his mind back and strain to think about what went wrong - what mistake did he make that gave them away, that made them easy targets. He won't be able to pinpoint any one thing, any single moment. And did it even matter anyway? With the Alliance on their tail, it would have happened sooner or later. The Alliance, Orion knows, will always catch up. That's what happens when a beast learns to manipulate the playing field - the prey can scarcely win.

Orion hates feeling like prey. He'd grown comfortable these last several years, fooling himself into thinking he was the hunter after Vo'ongi recruited him. But now he can very clearly recall that feeling of being too young, of looking at that red-star blast that killed his parents, of seeing Alliance ships raining hell onto his planet. It's not the exact same now, of course, but as Orion hears the blaster fire, sees the jet of vivid red plasma shoot over his shoulder, just barely grazing his cheeks, the feeling returns anew.

The shot crashes into old Terran brick and from far off, there's a scream of alarm. The assassins sent after them this time are hasty, sloppy. It's part of their job to ensure that the past never meets the future, and by firing in such a clear view and with a weapon clearly not from the time, these assassins are jeopardizing the very timeline. If it was Orion - and it has been Orion in those shoes, too many times to count - he would use a weapon from the period. A Glock, perhaps.

None of this matters. His mind is fixating on the wrong things.

Blindly, Orion grasps at Eden's elbow and shoves her ahead of him, even as he pushes into a run. She stumbles briefly, but her biology is responsive and she is soon running at his side. He does his best to lead them away from the public. Guided by the scent of pungent oil and sharp ocean, they arrive at a port of docks just as the sun starts to set. The path isn't too far off course - he had already been leading them out of Los Angeles when they were found.

An assassin materializes only feet ahead of them, jumping right into their way with blaster fire already sweeping into the air. Orion bodily tackles Eden and rolls, the lasers skimming over their head. If he were alone, if he wasn't planning on running and hiding, Orion might have used his own jumper to get the drop on the assassins after them - but Orion is not alone, and he needs to keep the charge in his jumper full so he can shake these bastards off their trail later.

Orion does have an ace in his pocket, though. For the first time in years, his reserves of energy are abundant and he can feel the skills he had incrementally cultivated over the years at his fingertips. His energy manipulation is much more versatile than Eden's telekinesis. Where hers is a hammer, his is a multitool.

He stretches his palm out, fingers splayed open and glowing a dim iridescent blue, and abruptly twists his wrist - the blaster and the assassin go in two different directions, the blaster melted and smoking, the assassin's skin bubbling and burnt.

That's one down. But he knows he put too much energy into it - having so much for the first time in so long, he forgot to check himself, and now he won't have a similar punch a second time. Rookie mistake, but he did buy them time.

Knowing another assassin or two is close behind, Orion drags himself and Eden off the ground, already pushing them to a location more easily defensible. Being out in the open is stupid, but if they can get something behind their back, something that assassins can't jump behind, then they'll be better off. The plan is simple: kill the assassins, do multiple jumps, and rethink his fucking mission for the fifth time.

Orion barely has any time to pin Eden's back against a massive metal crate and spit out directions to "stay behind me" before the other two assassins show up, materializing into view just seconds after each other. He doesn't recognize either of them, likely because they haven't made it into the elite squad like him, or because they've been recruited from another division. It doesn't matter.

The one on the left is quicker to the draw, firing off shot after shot, seemingly aiming for Eden through Orion's very body. The other one is smaller and appears to be more thoughtful. This is why Orion can't avoid getting dragged into close combat with that one. It's a gamble either way; with the assassin so close, they are putting themselves within range of Orion's deadly grappling skills, but at the same time, they are also getting close enough that Orion will have to choose between limiting himself to protect Eden, or take a chance to brawl and hope that Eden can look after herself.

At that point, everything that happens after is inevitable. There's no other way forward. All choices and actions lead to consequences.

From behind him as he fights hand-to-hand with the smaller assassin, Orion feels a swell of energy right before there is a hard psychic shove that sends Orion and the two assassins to the ground. Eden's telekinetic attack is artless, but it gives Orion the opportunity to swiftly snap the neck of his opponent. He turns on his knee and tries to do the same trick to the remaining assassin as he had done to the very first. It works, partly; the blaster melts and fuses itself to the assassin's hand, who screams in agony for several seconds before Orion can end him, too.

Then the dock is quiet, except for seagulls in the distance and the lapping of waves and the thundering of Orion's heart. He takes a beat to catch his breath, then stands, dusting his hands off. He turns to Eden and -

Blood. So much purple blood on her pretty face, starting from somewhere near her forehead and seeping down, dripping off the jut of her fine-boned chin. Eden has one hand pressed over half her face, the faintest grimace marring her lips.

When had -?

The blaster fire had never stopped during Orion's tussle with the smaller assassin. It had been less than a minute, maybe even less than thirty seconds, but all that time it was - blast - blast - blast - blast. There is evidence on the metal crate that Eden had done her best to dodge, but somehow -

That telekinetic shove wasn't the untutored attempt to help that he thought it was. It was a reaction to pain.

"You need a medic," he realizes, rushing toward her.

Eden closes the eye he can see and takes a deep, deep breath. Her shoulders relax and, even as she holds pressure against her face, she appears completely unbothered by her gruesome injury. "I am fine," she says. "The pain has been muted, for now. We need to be in a safe location before I can receive medical attention."

He doesn't know what that means, muting the pain - but hadn't her mother had something like that? An inability to feel pain? Or was this a Giidas trait where they could voluntarily block their pain receptors?

Doesn't matter. Eden is right. Safety first, then treatment.

A/N: Oh, my my my. So that is developing nicely I think! Except, oh no, Eden is very hurt! What will Orion do next?

Sorry about being so late on these last few chapters! My RL is a MESS right now and it's hard to find time to write! If I miss a monthly update, then I've been too busy to finish the chapter. I'll try for January but you might not see me again until February!

As always, be honest. I can take it!

~Rae