A/N: Sorry it's been forever. The last half of last year really was difficult for me. But I promised I wouldn't let this fic die so here we are!


No one had slept. At least, no one had slept willingly. The injured were resting. The wounded were unconscious. And the dead...well, the dead would never wake again.

But the rest?

The civilians that had survived the Ganglion attack emerged from the shelter, many focusing their efforts on clearing debris from the streets. Though a few rushed to their homes instead to hide away from the terrifying reality that had come knocking mere hours ago.

Cowards.

The BLADE soldiers unharmed in the conflict were divided into teams to conduct damage assessments on the various sectors of the city, working at breakneck speed to deliver their reports so the BLADE council could best decide how to strategize and focus repairs and rebuilding efforts. Meaningful work. Necessary work. Especially given they would no doubt be confronted with the bodies of their comrades as they did so…

And sitting in this meeting, discussing the damage done to the city...well Dunban wanted to be anywhere but there. He wasn't even sure why he was there because he wasn't on the fucking BLADE council anymore. But Vandham had ordered him to join. Actually ordered him.

The fucker.

He wanted to be at the clinic to wait for Fiora to awaken. His sister had made it through surgery. She was stable. For now.

Yes, he should've been by her side. And instead, he was wasting his time in a meeting he had no business — or desire — to be in.

"Priority should be on repairing the blasted wall in the East Gate," Irina stated, studying the tablet in her hand. "Forget the Ganglion. A Tyrant Monster could run straight through that in the middle of the night and clobber us all if we don't fix it. It's too large a security risk to ignore."

"Agreed." Vandham nodded.

"How many casualties did we sustain?" Maurice demanded.

"Um...fifty or so, sir," Vera murmured in response, refusing to lift her head from the screen of her own tablet. "...from what we can gather at the moment. We'll have more updated numbers in the hour…"

Dunban nearly snorted. Not at the number, but at her response. Was she so meek she couldn't lift her head to look at the snake? Why would he think she could do any differently? She lacked the necessary backbone for this position. For war.

That was clear when she had gone to hide in the shelter instead of joining the BLADE ranks in fighting the Ganglion invaders.

"Our priority should be the mimeosome project. If we had pursued it before, we wouldn't have any casualties!" Maurice swept his eyes over the gathered parties, then his gaze flicked to Dunban purposefully.

Oh, was Maurice trying to blame him? For the attack? For the Ganglion ambush?

Not today.

The rage reared its sharp maws and he narrowed his eyes at the older man. His voice was hard. Raw. "Right. Because you have the entire scientific process worked out for transferring human souls from one mechanical body to the other. No problem at all, am I right? No losing any piece of consciousness, no one going crazy as soon as they download into a new body. Easy as fucking pie."

All eyes turned to him, a few horrified by the expletive. Others disapproving. One completely indifferent. Apparently, no one had really been expecting him to speak much less respond to the provocation.

Then why the fuck did they invite him?

Dunban saw the spark in Vandham's eyes. Well, it seemed one person had been expecting him to speak out.

"You don't even know the state of the program." Maurice spat. "You don't know what kind of developments we've made!"

"Then enlighten me, Mr. President." Dunban sneered. It wasn't too long ago he'd discovered Gadot. How much progress could the scientist have made in a mere few weeks with limited resources at his disposal?

"I'm going to step in here and stop this discussion." Nagi's voice boomed, silencing the imminent argument. His dark eyes flashed between Dunban and Maurice with a warning, then he turned his attention to the rest of the group. "Whether we need to readdress the timeline of the Mimesome program is up for discussion at a later date. For now, we need to focus on the immediate issues. As Irina said, the East wall is a security risk."

The conversation continued on, but the voices blended into a din of background noise, a humming that did not register the words being spoken in his brain. No, Dunban's focus remained on the subject of the mimeosome project. Because Nagi hadn't dismissed it. He had simply tabled the discussion.

He couldn't actually be considering implementing it…could he?


The sun broke through the clouds, bringing a morning that no one cared to greet. As the council members — and invited guest — stepped out onto the concourse to evaluate the state of affairs in NLA, they were greeted by another unexpected visitor.

A small airship had landed on the somewhat intact helipad. Aquamarine in color. Immediately recognizable given its unique markings and spherical structure.

Dunban narrowed his eyes. Could this day get any fucking worse?

Emperor Sorean strode across the platform, shoulders back, head held high. The wings from his brow extended, showcasing their length and magnificence.

What a time for showing off.

"Your Highness. We weren't expecting you." Nagi stepped forward and gave a small bow.

"I was informed of the attack by my daughter. I have come to offer aid and supplies if necessary." The Emperor stated, looking down at the collecting group of humans.

You're too late. Dunban thought.

He began to stride down the concourse, back to the clinic, back to Fiora.

"Dunban!"

What he'd hoped would be a clean getaway was just a dream. Dunban paused, clenching and unclenching his fist, and pivoted to face the High Entia. "Your Highness."

The Emperor's eyebrows raised. "I would like to speak with you."

"At a later time…if that suits." There was barely enough air in his lungs to force the cordial response. "I need to see my sister," Dunban stated through gritted teeth. "My sister was gravely injured and I need to see how she's doing."

"Of course. If there is anything my medics can do for her, let them know." The Emperor nodded.

Dunban didn't wait for further conversation to suck him in and took off. As he blazed down the concourse, his mind reeled. Melia had called for her father? After everything had happened? After what he said?

No, that didn't make sense. Melia was level-headed. She was careful and precise. Calculating. He was missing something. Though given how he'd left their previous conversation, he wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard from her through the night and into the morning.

As he walked into the clinic, he pulled out his communicator and wrote a message to her.

Your father is here.

He waited a minute, but no response came.

Fuck. He'd ruined it again earlier, hadn't he? He'd been too angry. Of course. He'd have to find her later and apologize. If she even wanted to talk to him. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

Everything was a mess.

Raking his hand through his hair, he took a breath and then strode over to the desk. "Fiora. How is she?"

The nurse looked up at him, then back to the computers, typing away on the console. His brow furrowed, and he looked up at Dunban. "Looks like she's out of surgery and stable. She's in room seven if you want to go in."

"Thanks." He said and rushed down the hall. Out of surgery, that was a blessing. But the Doctor had said the damage done to her body was extensive. Apparently, they'd gotten it under control, they'd managed to at least save her—

When he arrived at the room, his eyes looked through the window and he stopped, breath catching in his throat. Her body was wrapped in what looked like a full-body cast, though he couldn't quite see because her face was obscured by a huge ventilating type device…

"Dunban. I heard you were here."

He didn't turn to face Vanea, his eyes still locked on Fiora. "What…what's going on?"

The woman sighed as she slid into the empty space next to him, trying to find his eyes, though he refused to look away from his sister. "Fiora's alive. That's the important thing."

"What…what's happening? Why is she wrapped in that thing?"

"Dunban, do you want to sit down?"

"No, I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on," he snapped and looked at her.

Vanea narrowed her eyes. "It's been a hell of a long night for all of us. So I'm going to give you a pass because this is your sister, but you need to calm down."

"I'll be calm when you tell me what happened!"

"Dunban, get a hold of yourself!"

"Then get to the point, Vanea!"

"You can be such an asshole, you know?" Vanea retorted. "Your sister lost her left leg and right arm. She had extensive wounds throughout her torso. Broken ribs, a collapsed lung. Honestly, it's a miracle she's even alive." She took a breath and continued, "Right now we've put her in a medically induced coma so her body can recover. She's going to need extensive prosthetics. Organ repair. Lots of physical therapy."

"But she's alive." His voice was low and grim, the flagrant rage quiet as he listened to the diagnosis.

"Yes." Vanea sighed. "For now."

"...what does that mean?"

"Her body sustained significant trauma. There's always the chance she could get an infection that could spread. We're toeing a very fine line right now but we're keeping a careful eye on her."

"What can I do?"

"For starters, calm the fuck down." He glared but said nothing. She added, satisfied with the lack of retort, "Just be there for her. Go in and talk to her. Let her know you're here." Vanea asserted. "I need to get back to other patients, but if you have any questions, I'll be around."

"Thank you."

She nodded, hesitated, then walked down the hallway, stopping into a different patient room.

Looking back at Fiora, Dunban exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body. The anger was still there, but it was dulled to the touch. Just an ache now in the back of his heart, the concern and worry for his sister taking precedence over any negative emotion.

Vanea hadn't told him when they were going to wake Fiora up. If ever.

"Oh. Hello, Dunban."

The soft voice jolted him from his thoughts. His gaze met Melia's and a splash of relief rippled through him, though only for a second as he remembered his previous actions. Though it had only been five or six hours since they last saw one another, the High Entia looked decidedly more tired. He was ready to hazard a guess that she hadn't slept at all either.

"I sent you a message," he mumbled.

"Oh?" Her eyes lit in surprise and she pulled her communicator out of her pocket. "Ah yes. My father. He decided to come to NLA to offer aid. Right after I shared with him that I would no longer be condoning his decision to keep secrets from your people."

Her voice betrayed no emotion and there was a simple shrug on her shoulders, but he understood the gravity of what she had done. Melia had taken a stand against her father, against the Emperor. That was why Sorean had come.

"I…wow, Melia. That was brave."

"Perhaps. I see it only as necessary." She crossed her arms over her chest. "How is she?"

"She's…" His eyes flicked back to where the unconscious Fiora lay. "She's not doing well. Really not. I should've made her go to the shelter." The anger began to flare up within him, the burning rage that never went out. It flared to life, hot and scorching, and his jaw set.

Then he felt a cool touch on his fist — when had he rolled it into one? — and he snapped his attention back to the woman at his side.

"This isn't your fault, Dunban," Melia murmured. There was no gentleness in her voice, no soothing comfort. Rather, she was firm in contrast to the delicate touch of her hands around his. "Even if you had placed her in the shelter yourself, Fiora would have found a way to join the battle. She wanted to fight. To protect her people. It is, I'm certain, terrifying to see her there now, and I can barely imagine what it feels like, but had you tried to keep her from him, I fear she would not have survived at all."

With one hand, she reached out and with care, turned his face towards hers. "This war is bloody and harrowing. But you do not have to bear its weight on your own. You cannot protect everyone on your own, Dunban. There are others who can help ease your burden, who can carry it with you if you let them. But it is up to you to share. No one can take it from you, despite how they try."

The fiery rage within him fell quiet, its flames diminishing in size with each second he looked into her eyes. It wasn't enough to make it all go away. It wasn't enough to wash away the black hatred that he held for the Ganglion and whoever had destroyed Earth. But at this moment, it was enough to bring him back to his senses. To remind him of what was important now. That Fiora was alive. That he was alive. That he was with Melia.

Somehow she'd known how to reach him. Not with flowery words or optimistic promises that would always prove false, nothing about how things would turn out for the better, or that this was all meant to be and they would find their way through the darkness. None of that.

No, she had simply spoken to the weight he carried on his heart and soul. For discussion of anything else was futile for they didn't know what the future would bring. What chaos would upend their lives next.

Melia was logical. Calculated. But insightful in a way that no one else had been about him.

With his free hand, he lay it over Melia's that cupped his cheek. "I'm sorry about earlier. How I spoke to you. You didn't deserve that anger."

"Perhaps not, but I know it was not for me. Still, though, I accept your apology." Her eyes softened and a small smile graced her face.

Even in the wake of bloodshed, despite the long hours and the violence of battle, she still managed to be beautiful. Maybe in spite of it. The urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her to him grew, though he knew that they were technically in the middle of the corridor and anyone could see them.

Anyone could see them now. It was an intimate enough position.

But honestly, Dunban didn't care. He didn't want to keep secret his feelings for Melia, even if he understood the reason.

However, he was just one person, and a relationship was made of two. He didn't know how Melia felt on the matter, so he tempered the desire to do away with hiding. Though as a compromise, he leaned closer to her and whispered only for her to hear, "Thank you."

"I'm happy to help." She responded, giving the hand she held a squeeze. "In any way I can."

"Could I impose on your goodwill once more?" He offered a small, hopeful smile.

"I think I can make such an exception for you." Her tone turned posh and she fluttered her eyelashes at him. He laughed at the mocking display and she beamed up at him.

His heart flip-flopped in his chest as he stared into her eyes. For a moment, he found himself at a loss for words, then remembered what he was going to ask. "Will you come in with me?"

"Of course."

Leading the way into Fiora's room, Dunban realized there was no one else he would have felt comfortable with in that moment, approaching his sister, save for Melia. And what that meant…

…well, he'd wait for Fiora to wake up to help him decipher that.