A/N: This fic is available on FFN and Ao3.

"And that's about it," Annette concluded, withdrawing her hand from the spreadsheet in front of her. Sitting at the other end of the table was Dustin, who stared down at the many charts and graphs spread across its surface with wide-eyed wonder.

"Wow," he breathed. "I knew you guys had a lot of research done on the Legion, but I didn't realize it was this much." He leaned over to study a pie chart in the far corner. "I mean, some of these things I already knew from the academy, but now I realize they really only taught us the basics."

"Well, a lot of this stuff is more 'fun fact' than anything," Annette admitted. "You probably already know everything you need to know in order to actually fight the Legion. We're just here hoping that one of these little bits of info will lead to a breakthrough–a real countermeasure." She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "Nothing so far, though."

"Still, it's amazing you were able to put all this together and explain it to a layman like me." Dustin grinned, then frowned. "…Although I don't see what any of this has to do with what you want for lunch later."

Annette winced, clicking her tongue. "You did ask that, didn't you?"

He awkwardly drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "Yeah. And, um, this is all really interesting, but it's already been half an hour, so…"

Only then did Annette look at the clock on the far wall, realizing with a start that it had indeed been thirty minutes since he'd first walked into her office. Had she really been talking his ear off for that long? "I'm sorry," she sighed, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "I guess I didn't really notice the time." Annette gave a light chuckle. "You know, you got off pretty lightly, Dustin. I used to go on for hours like this with The–" Her throat caught awkwardly on the word, and Annette went quiet without finishing her sentence.

The result was a billowing silence that seemed to fill every corner of the room, invisible yet thick to the point of being palpable. The half-spoken name remained on her tongue, unable to be spit out nor swallowed. It was just…there. In limbo. Like everything else between them.

And unfortunately, while Dustin was nice enough to humor Annette's impromptu lecture, he was not so courteous as to pretend he didn't notice the slip-up. He laced his fingers together, his expression one of concern. "Are you still ignoring him?"

"I'm not ignoring anyone," Annette shot back. "I'm just doing what I should've done in the first place and focusing on my actual job." She brought her hands down onto the table, albeit with more force than she intended. Dustin winced at the resounding smack, but Annette pushed on before he could speak. "It's been months since I came to Giad, and years since I started as a researcher, and I'm still no closer to finding a cure for whatever made the Legion the way they are. Not one single lead!"

Then, as if the fire that had flared up suddenly died down again, she slumped forward, hands on her temples. "We need some good news, Dustin. We need proof that this war can be won. Something. Anything." This was not a new sentiment. Dustin looked quite startled by her sudden change in mood, but in truth, Annette had already said as much to Theo. There had been several occasions where she'd worked tirelessly through the night, only for her research to yield no results.

She would confide in him, confess to him the hopelessness of the situation. And he would listen, sometimes with jokes, sometimes with reassurance. Now that she didn't have those conversations to relieve her stress, Annette's nerves were starting to fray. Slowly but surely, it began to show, until it became nigh-impossible to keep it in check.

Even when her workload seemed insurmountable, unbearable, she hid her feelings from everyone. Everyone but him. He had always been there to lend an ear, or a shoulder, or sometimes–though they kept it strictly between the two of them–a fuzzy head to lay her hand on. Thinking about those memories only made the pain worse, and Annette closed her eyes.

But apparently it's my fault for getting the wrong idea about us, she thought irritably. She had been so furious with him before, but now she would give anything to take it all back, for things to go back to the way they were.

She missed him.

Lost in her own head, Annette had all but forgotten about Dustin.

When he spoke, she looked up, and his eyes held nothing but sympathy. "…This isn't something you can figure out on your own, Annette," he told her gently. Most likely, he was talking about the Legion, but she had a feeling he knew more than he let on. "I get it. You probably don't believe me, but I do." There was something almost melancholic in his expression, which she wasn't expecting.

He was always so positive, and she never once saw him upset or angry. But here, she caught a glimpse of something in him she never even knew existed. Something quiet, and sad. Now it was Annette who didn't know what to say.

"Anyway," Dustin murmured, "what I'm trying to say is, trying to take on every single problem all by yourself is just gonna pull you apart from the inside. You have people you can lean on, you know? …I think you should talk to him."

Annette bit her lip, a new wave of fear and uncertainty washing over her. Whenever she passed him by, Theo always had such a sour look on his face…no doubt he was still blaming her for what happened. "What do I even say at this point?" Was there anything to say? Even now, her mind hasn't changed. Her feelings haven't changed. She would never try and force him into a relationship, but how could they possibly go back to being friends now? Especially when Annette herself wished for something more?

"I wish Lena were here," Annette grumbled. Seeing the hurt look on Dustin's face, she hastily backtracked. "I mean, you're good company too, Dustin, and I appreciate the advice, but–"

"This is a girl thing?" he guessed with a wry smile.

"More like a 'best friend' thing," Annette mumbled. Truly, Lena would know just what to say in this situation. And if she just ended up saying the same thing as Dustin, then at least Annette would have a second opinion. Although, come to think of it… "Where is Lena? I haven't seen her all morning."

"I…don't know," Dustin admitted after a brief pause. "But, well, I'm sure her schedule's gotten pretty tight lately. And it's still early; I bet she's just out doing, you know, colonel things." It made sense; both he and Annette have been given much to do the past few days in preparation for the next dispatch. Lena outranked the both of them, so it was only natural that she would have even more on her plate.

Annette gave a small nod, though she still looked puzzled. "Yeah," she mused, "but the cat's not around, either…"

–––––––––

"Not to question your methods, Colonel," Marcel began, no small amount of impatience in his voice, "but I think I remember saying something about time being of the essence here. So do you mind telling me what the deal is–" He spread his arms, gesturing to the many shops and stores that lined the streets on either side of him, "–with all these pit stops?"

Lena didn't respond immediately. She was busy helping Thomas into a brand new pair of sneakers, the boy's hands occupied by a sandwich and a pastry. The worn and threadbare clothes he had have all been replaced by stylish yet comfortable attire, and while he was still on the lean side, he at least looked well-kempt. His hair no longer fell into his eyes, having been trimmed down to a more reasonable length, though it was still unruly.

All in all, he looked no different from any of the other citizens walking about. Indeed, some had even stopped to coo at the "cute little kid", though Marcel thought the boy was much too old for that. He also didn't care for the smug, catlike grin he sported whenever something like that happened.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Lena finally said, standing up and admiring her handiwork. "We can't take Thomas to your friend–or through this city–with the way he looked before. People will think he's been neglected, or some kind of runaway."

"He is a runaway," Marcel snorted. Thomas still refused to divulge much about his time at the orphanage, but made it clear that he didn't want to return under any circumstances. "And what about the snacks, then? You even made me take him to the bathhouse after we left!"

"All for the same reason," Lena replied smoothly. "Clean clothes don't make any difference if the person himself is not. Besides," she gave the boy a smile of understanding. "Thomas was hungry. Weren't you?"

Thomas nodded eagerly, and made a point of taking a large bite out of his pastry.

"Hungry?" Marcel echoed in disbelief as he followed the pair down the street. "We literally caught him stealing from the pantry earlier!"

"Not like I got to eat any of it," Thomas grumbled, giving him a sour look.

Marcel could only look at the sky, exasperated. Despite the fact that he was the one making the arrangements, and he had gotten Lena to agree to keep Thomas' true identity a secret, the boy clearly cared for him less than he did for her.

"I'm sure there will be plenty for you to eat when we get to where we're going," Lena assured Thomas, gently ruffling his hair.

"Stop spoiling him," Marcel growled. "He's not your cat anymore."

His colonel promptly ignored him. "I'm sure you're excited, aren't you?" she went on. Apparently, she was over him essentially lying to her for a week. After all, Thomas might look different, but his personality was still very much the same. "Marcel says it's a safe place, and his friend is nice, so you won't have anything to worry about from here on." When Thomas looked uncertain, she gave the man in question a meaningful look. "Right?"

"Yes," Marcel sighed, deciding to leave the two of them to their little act. "She normally doesn't like surprise visits, but it's around the time of the month I usually go to her place anyway, so I don't think she'll mind too much. The tricky part," he added, almost to himself, "is convincing her to let him stay."

"'Surprise visits'? She doesn't know we're coming?" Lena asked, her brow furrowing.

"No. How can she? We just left the base this morning."

"I figured you might have reached out while Thomas and I were making our rounds," Lena insisted. At least, that was what she would have done. How would they be able to convince this friend of his to accept a child into her home without any prior notice? "You really haven't said a word to her? Not one phone call?"

Marcel simply shrugged. "She's not big on technology."

Before Lena could inquire any further, Thomas piped up. "You don't have to worry, Lena! I'll be the best houseguest she's ever had, so she'll never want to get rid of me."

To Marcel's annoyance, she patted his head again. "I'm sure you will."

Marcel was on the verge of telling them both off when he heard a soft chuckle. Three heads turned to look at an elderly woman standing outside of a convenience store, smiling at them.

"Such a sweet little boy," she cooed. It seemed she hadn't quite picked up on the subject matter. The senior's squinted gaze traveled from Lena to Marcel. "You take good care of your younger brother now, understand?"

Marcel drew the line at that. "He's not–"

"We will," Lena called. When he gave her a dubious look, she whispered, "It's better to blend in, right?" They both knew that wasn't her only reason for doing it, but Marcel decided to refrain from commenting. Once they were out of the bustling confines of the square, Lena placed her hands on her hips. "Now then, how do we get to this friend of yours, anyway?"

At this, Marcel's face took on a decidedly uncomfortable expression. Lena didn't know the reason for it, and tilted her head curiously as he scratched the back of his head. "Right…" he mumbled. "I guess there's no way around it." He motioned with his hand. "Follow me."

Lena allowed Marcel to take the lead, Thomas following closely behind. Eventually they reached the city outskirts, where nothing but open plains awaited them.

As she opened her mouth to ask what sort of transportation they would be taking, Marcel looked straight at Lena and asked, in a perfectly deadpan voice, "How much do you weigh?"

Lena stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Probably not a whole lot, but there's a limit to how much I can carry." He looked them both over. "Yeah, I think I can do it. The kid is going to have to turn back into a cat, though."

"You're going to carry us there?" Lena asked in disbelief. But then it clicked. "Your other form."

Marcel gave a single nod for confirmation. "I'm the only one who knows the way there, and like I said, she's not a huge fan of tech, including vehicles. So whenever I visit, I go on foot–so to speak. It hasn't really been an issue, though I've also never brought other people with me before."

"I see." Lena waited, suddenly quite curious as to what his animal form could be. There weren't many Animali who can transform into something large enough to carry humans. Why, the last time she'd seen one…Lena blinked, realizing that Marcel hadn't moved and was watching her with a somewhat guarded expression. "What's wrong?"

"Don't look." He sounded serious. "It feels weird enough as-is."

Perhaps "serious" wasn't the right word. He sounded more self-conscious than anything, and Lena had to fight a smile as she faced another direction. The werewolves had no issue transforming around her, nor did any of the other Animali she knew. And while he wasn't a field operative, Marcel was a soldier. To see him be so hesitant about something like this was fairly amusing. She would still honor his request, though, and instructed her smaller companion to do the same.

It took a little longer than she expected–and at one point she thought she heard something like a grunt–but finally… "…Alright." A familiar voice reached her from somewhere above her head. "Let's go."

Lena turned around, and gasped. She couldn't stop herself.

Standing where Marcel had been was a beautiful chestnut stallion. His glossy red coat was almost completely devoid of markings, save for a white blaze down the length of his long muzzle. A light breeze ruffled his mane, and he stamped a hoof, the powerful muscles in his shoulders visibly stretching and contracting with every movement.

He was exactly the kind of horse Lena would have begged her father to ride when she was little, and even now she had to fight the urge to run right up and stroke his neck. For better or worse, though, Thomas had no such inhibitions.

"Whoa!" he cried, running up and eagerly rubbing the horse's broad flank. "You're so cool-looking now!"

The stallion whinnied and danced away from the boy's outstretched hands. "Cut that out! We're still on a mission, remember?" He locked eyes with Lena, who was still rooted to the spot. He exhaled sharply, which sounded remarkably like a sigh. "Respectfully, Colonel…are you going to get on or not? We have a long way to go."

"Oh, right!" The horse approached, and Lena began to fidget, uncertain. "Um, is it really okay if I…?"

Another huff. "Yes. Otherwise it'll take all day." One of Marcel's ears swiveled back, and he slowly, reluctantly, lowered himself onto one knee.

Lena needed no further encouragement. She slid onto his back, and found that, once she'd gotten past the initial awkwardness, there really wasn't anything to be concerned about. In fact, something about this felt rather familiar.

Thomas walked over, but Marcel gave him a stern look. "I can't carry more than one person and still run at full speed, even if you are just a kid. Transform first."

Thomas looked to Lena, who nodded. A few moments later, a black-and-white cat bounded across the grass and leaped nimbly onto Marcel's back and settled between his shoulder blades. As soon as he did, the stallion stood up, and Lena took a moment to marvel at the view, realizing she hadn't been in this kind of position since she was a child.

"Hold on tight."

That was when she realized another thing. This horse had no reins, saddle, or anything else to hold on to. And he intended to run at full gallop.

"Wait–"

Cutting her off with a sharp bray–which Lena suspected might have been punishment for earlier–Marcel kicked the air with his front hooves and took off across the plains, picking up speed until he was nothing but a red streak on the horizon.

With no other way to keep herself from falling, Lena lurched forward and wrapped her arms around the horse's neck, nearly crushing Thomas in the process. Quickly apologizing to the cat, who yowled in protest, she worked to relax her posture and carefully push herself up. Marcel kept a swift but steady pace, and soon Lena had eased up enough to sit comfortably astride his back, the earlier nervousness having vanished entirely.

In fact, that familiar feeling of nostalgia came over her again, the whistle of the wind in her ears and the blur of the land as they went by lulling her into a strange sense of security, and comfort. Dim, hazy memories slowly pieced themselves together in the back of her mind, and Lena smiled.

"Odd," Marcel said suddenly.

"Hm? What is?" Lena asked. Thomas was in a crouch, eyes wide and in awe as he absorbed his surroundings.

"I didn't think you'd adjust to horseback riding so fast," the horse replied. Unless she was mistaken, he almost sounded impressed. "I thought for sure you'd ask for a saddle after a while. Which I'd never allow, but still."

Lena couldn't resist giggling at the thought. Her eyes found the distant horizon, and she felt a faint twinge of sadness in her heart as she answered. "It's been a long time, but I used to do this fairly often when I was little. I guess my body is starting to remember that feeling."

Marcel swerved around a tree, and Lena leaned slightly in the other direction to maintain balance. "I can see," he remarked. "Though I'm telling you now, if you want to get back into horseback riding, you should practice with normal horses. I don't particularly like letting people on my back."

Lena understood. He still had his dignity, after all. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun's rays, and noticed more trees dotting the landscape than before–a gradual transition from grassland to forest.

At this point, Marcel had slowed to a steady trot, expertly weaving between the trunks as he walked a path only he knew. "Getting close," he said.

Lena, meanwhile, took in the scenery. It was a fairly large forest, the trees becoming more densely packed the further they went.

Sunlight streamed down in thin beams, and the sound of Marcel's hooves were muffled by the carpet of fallen leaves that covered the ground. It was a quiet place, with only the occasional birdcall disrupting the stillness. Shrubs and bushes budding with flowers and fruit grew everywhere, and if she listened closely, she could hear the skitter of tiny claws in the undergrowth. While she didn't know much about Marcel's "friend", she could understand why someone would want to stay in a place like this.

It wasn't all that far from town, but it almost felt like another world entirely.

Caught up as she was with these notions, Lena was caught off-guard by Marcel's sudden stop.

"We're here," he announced.

Thomas braced his forepaws against the horse's neck in an effort to peer over his head, and even Lena had to crane her own neck to see where they'd arrived.

She'd expected some sort of secret cottage, or possibly a wooden lodge of some sort. What stood before her was neither. It was more foliage–much, much denser than before, all barred by a tall, rusted iron gate split into two doors. The gate itself was so thickly tangled with vines that she couldn't even see between the gaps in the bars.

There were no other buildings or structures that she could see; it all just seemed like one large patch of frighteningly overgrown greenery that hadn't been tended by human hands in months, if not years.

"Weird," Thomas said, which mirrored Lena's thoughts.

She looked questioningly down at Marcel, but he simply lowered himself to the ground, a clear indication to dismount. Both girl and cat slid down obediently, the movement making the former realize just how sore she was. She had forgotten how difficult it was to ride without a saddle. But knowing he wouldn't take kindly to the suggestion, she simply straightened up and told herself to deal with the pain. What mattered most was their goal, and it was nearing completion. In fact, there was really only one thing left to do.

Marcel, still in horse form, walked up to the gate. He carefully raised a hoof and tapped the bars, and a clear ringing sound echoed through the forest. "It's me," he called. "I brought…" he glanced at Lena, "…some friends." He retreated a few steps, and the three waited in tense silence for someone to appear. A minute passed. Then two. Finally…

Creakkkk.

Slowly, gratingly, the rightmost door was pushed open a fraction. A head poked out from the other side, and Lena gasped aloud for the second time that day.

Short, light-brown hair. Large green eyes set within a round, freckled face.

It was the face of someone who'd all but faded from her memory, but returned in full detail now. Those same eyes found Lena's, and grew even wider than before. That was when she knew for sure.

"You!"