There was a knock on my door that prompted a scramble to get some used clothes, a dirty dish that I'd used for a quick bite, and some disorderly papers a little less unsightly. I wasn't exactly in uniform but, considering I'd already seen Howe in nothing but a nightgown and she'd seen me in trunks, I wasn't too concerned about the white shirt/dark gray shorts motif I had going.

At last opening the door, Howe had dressed in a similarly casual manner, though at least it wasn't just a nightgown this time. Instead, she wore a pastel shirt that had charming text on it reading, 'Keep your head full of dreams!,' very comfortable-looking pajama pants, and teal-and-pink striped socks. She had a laptop clutched under her left arm, along with her mobile.

"Good evening, Howe," I greeted, gesturing into the room.

"Good evening, James," she replied happily as ever. "What will our working situation be like?" She looked around the room and the way it was laid out.

"Well, I suppose I'll be at my desk. You can sit wherever you like," I said. "It is your ship."

"Well, it may be my ship, but technically speaking, it's also yours," she pointed out. "Ooh! Interesting question. Does that make me yours?" She wondered aloud before plopping herself onto the bed and getting nestled up, flipping her computer open as she set her phone on the side.

I looked at her with a frozen expression as my brain felt like it had just been put out of commission, cheeks flaring up. "W-what?"

"It's called a joke, C3PO," she tittered playfully.

At least there was my first opening. "You've watched Star Wars," I asked while recovering from the 'joke' and sitting back down at my desk.

"Mhm," she hummed. "It was a great film, and since I was bored without much to do until very recently, I watched through the episodes at my leisure." My brow raised and we looked at each other. A smirk creased my lips when I noticed a faint blush start to color her cheeks. "Okay, I binged all nine of them in less than a week. But it was really entertaining the whole way through! I have no regrets and you can't blame me," she said defensively.

I chuckled fondly at her and held my hands up in a disarming fashion. "I'm not blaming you for anything," I reassured. "I love those movies, too. Really good fun. Which one's your favorite?"

"The second one."

What?

"Well, technically, it's Episode Five, isn't it," she added. "But, either way, that one's my favorite. The Empire Strikes Back! Simply thrilling. My eyes were glued to the screen every second of it."

She had me in the first half there, not going to lie. "Alright, alright," I nodded. "I thought you meant Attack of the Clones."

"Oh!" She laughed knowingly. "No, no. But I don't understand the hate it gets regardless. I still had fun watching that, too!"

"I respect that," I replied with a hint of playful chiding. "I wouldn't say I agree, but I respect it. What was your favorite part from Empire?"

To my relief, Howe had the good sense to dodge that Prequels versus Originals debate entirely. "It may sound a little cliché, but the opening battle sequence with the massive walking tanks was everything," she twittered.

"The AT-ATs? That's what they're called," I asked, another grin starting to show itself.

"Yeah, those!" She nodded enthusiastically. "I know they belong to the bad guys, but I think that makes them even cooler. The sound that their guns make, too?"

"Exquisite," I said, answering her prompt. "Everything about those things is just designed to be as aesthetically wizard as possible. Maybe not the most practical walkers from the universe, but they are the most iconic for sure."

She giggled lightly. "I didn't expect you to be a Star Wars fan."

"I didn't expect you to be one either," I countered. "Now, as much as I'd like to chatter on about that, I believe we are convened for professional purposes."

Her expression took on a sense of seriousness and she sat up, fingers working her keyboard. "Right we are," she said. "Where do we start?"


Though we were making much better progress than if I were working completely on my own, perhaps it was only inevitable that chattering on about small talk and, eventually, little tidbits from our personal lives would crop up again. As it so happened, when I figured the first two reports were about completed and leaned back in my seat to take a breather, Howe had just the question in mind to kick us off.

"What are things like with your brother," she asked. Her computer had been propped up on a pillow in her lap when we were working. In the meantime, though, she'd put it aside in favor of leaning back on the headboard with her legs tucked, hugging the pillow to her body and waiting expectantly for my answer.

I swiveled my chair around to face the bed and shrugged. "What is there to say? I think we're pretty close. We have been ever since, really," I said. "We hang around with each other when we can, catch up, support one another, and the like. Of course, you know music was a big thing for us before other stuff started keeping us preoccupied."

"Oh," she replied, sitting up a little. "That's nice!"

"Sure," I nodded. "I actually do feel rather blessed to be part of such a tight-knit family. I hear people say their parents are boring, or they can't really engage with their siblings, or what have you. But I say that viewpoint only came about either because of the culture that surrounded them, or simply a laxer approach to really trying to be with each other."

"Interesting you should say that," she said. "I mean, I get the whole lax approach thing. What do you mean about the culture?"

"Well," I said hesitantly, inclining my head back and forth before deciding casual chatter with Howe about my past wouldn't do any harm. "I was born and raised until I was twelve years old in the Philippines."

That piqued her interest. She set the pillow aside and returned to her sitting position, scooching closer on top of the bed for a more engaged conversation. "Really? What was that like?"

"As I alluded to," I began, "the culture there is quite different from places in the west. My mum is part Filipina, so that might say something. My dad moved there for his job and that's how they met. Really hospitable bunch, the lot of them. I think some of that rubbed off on our family."

"Fascinating," Howe mused.

"They had my brother five years before I came along," I continued. "Apparently, even then, mum's side of the family was very close to us and each other."

"And do you still keep in touch with your mum's side of the family?" She asked.

"I do," I replied. "Mainly some of the cousins and an aunt and uncle of mine. Some of the nicest people I've ever known," I said a little wistfully.

"They sound lovely," she said with bright approval. "Then when did you come over to England?"

"Mum and Dad decided there were better opportunities for Rendall and me here. They also figured it would be easier in the long run if we received the rest of our education here," I replied. "That decision, I am quite thankful for. Not to knock the Philippines, of course. I consider England my home, but the Philippines is undeniably a part of my roots. Either way, unfortunately, there weren't many good professional prospects there at the time. I hear it might be a little better now, though, their prime export is still people."

"I see," she said, very much invested in my life story. "And how'd you end up in the Royal Navy?"

"My brother joined because he figured it might be interesting," I said. "I followed suit because I figured I might as well. Not a very theatrical reason, I know," I joked. "Then, he eventually left in favor of civilian life. That was probably two years before the first waves of bullshittery happened."

"Ironic," Howe quipped, catching onto the dry humor. "What persuaded you to stay?"

"Well, aside from the hassle of getting papers and such in," I began, "it was decent work, and I felt I could handle the job for a good few years. Plus, with Sirens starting to run amok, I had the same reasoning my brother had for joining in the first place. This time, it definitely got very interesting. So I went, making my rounds. People started to take notice of my, and I quote, aptitude for the battlefield. Before I knew it, I was made Captain."

"That is an incredibly fast rise through the ranks," she replied with a hint of skepticism.

"Well, apparently, they think I'm just that good," I said with sprinklings of pride I rarely allowed myself to indulge in. Perhaps I could a smidge with Howe. "Or maybe it was the...massive vacuum that happened when the Siren took out some very important folk that one time."

Howe inhaled through her teeth and shook her head at the mention of that one time. She let the silence hang for a bit before redirecting back on track. "So, you were so good that you sped through what should've taken you a decade in…how many years?"

"Five or some such timespan," I said trying to remember while also brushing off the heavy alternative topic.

"You did it twice as fast as anyone should have been able to," she shook her head. "No way. I think all this is just your world and we're stuck living in it!"

I laughed. "Some world." Her peppy demeanor always seems to suck the darkness out of a room. I love that about her.

She chuckled along with me and sighed. "Tell me about it. I sometimes wonder why that was my motto."

"'God's will be done,'" I quoted from memory. "What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It's like it tells me to shape the world the way God would want it. But that doesn't make sense! Others have been following that motto, yet there's still so much war and suffering. If He's out there, then why is any of this happening? Surely, His vision of the world can't be a messy system like this one."

Inwardly, I grinned. All of us certainly pondered those questions one way or another throughout our lives, and it was admittedly a pleasant surprise to find that Howe, too, had them in her head. "That's a great thought," I nodded. "I've been looking for an answer to that, too."

"Have you found one," she asked, a genuine curiosity in her voice that was a breath of fresh air that stood in stark contrast to what fiery breakdowns would usually happen in discussions of faith and religion.

"No," I confessed. "I am sure of something, though."

"That is?"

"He's out there. Somewhere," I replied.

"What makes you say that?"

I looked at her and smirked, wondering how she'd respond if I answered her now. After some evaluation, I decided it would be best to save it. "We can talk about that at a later time. How are things with your sisters?"

Seemingly jarred by the change in subject, she recoiled subtly in her place. "Wait, what? What d'you mean a later time?"

I shrugged and gave her an earnest look. "I'll be honest here, Howe. A journey in faith is something deeply personal. Others find themselves detached from it if they follow one path. Others find themselves so deeply involved that they unwittingly become zealots. I think a measured, logical approach is the best way to go about it."

She furrowed a brow. "Your point being? Sorry if that sounded a little rude," she added hastily.

"No, it's alright," I grinned. "My point is, I'm taking my time with it, and you should, too. I'm sure we'll find our answers eventually, but not because we try to force it out of our own overthinking or confirmation biases. That's just unhealthy."

"Fair," she said. "I guess we can discuss it at a later time."

"Sure," I nodded. "Until then, though, perhaps my question will be more immediately answerable."

"Guess so," she said. "I've been lucky enough to be somewhat like you and Rendall in that regard. I've been on good terms with all four of them from the start, just with varying degrees of closeness. George has always been very caring for me, but sometimes I can't help but feel she treats me like a child."

I snickered as a little joke slipped out. "You may not be a child, but I can certainly see why she might feel that way."

"What?" Howe tilted her head.

Realizing what I'd just said and ramping my sentence construction alertness up, I replied, "Well, she's your elder sister, let alone being the eldest out of all of you. At least, if I'm referencing the launch dates correctly. Am I?"

"You are," she affirmed before quipping, "Surprising, all things considered."

"I know," I played along. "Anyway, I think she might just be doting on you because you're effectively the baby of the family," I laughed.

"But I'm not a baby!" She protested, very much emulating a distressed young girl. "I have an adult form and an adult thinking process just like the rest of them...although Wales and Duke of York do still confuse me sometimes," her tone lost its conviction for a second. "But still! If anything, Monarch's the baby."

"I believe you," I said.

"Thanks," she replied, not having noticed the sly grin that was, against my best efforts, creasing itself on my lips. When she did, though, her face took on a slight pout. "Wait. Oh, come on! Not you, too!"

I held my hands up and giggled for what felt like the first time in far, far too long. "Okay, okay! I mean no disrespect," I reassured her. "You just have a very sweet personality. I think that's lovely! You shouldn't be so perturbed if someone sees you as a generally wholesome person to be with. That's a good thing," I said.

"Well, yeah, but sometimes it just…I don't know," she floundered and shrugged.

"Look, there's a difference between being childish and childlike. One of those can light up a room while the other doesn't help anyone. You tend more towards the latter, whether you're conscious of it or not. I can personally guarantee you everyone sees that, George being a doting older sister included."

Howe nodded slowly, seeming to consider my points, tossing and turning them in her head. "Do...you speak from experience?"

"I do speak from a little bit," I replied. "Though I think the dynamics between brothers and sisters can differ in some ways."

"Surely," she replied.

"What's that dynamic like with the five of you," I asked.

"Well, as I've hinted at, I'd consider myself closest to George. Monarch comes in second, followed by Wales and then Yorkie," she replied. "Those last two tend to stick to themselves most of the time or have other associates to hang around with."

"Do York and Vampire 'hang around' often," I said with an undertone of humor.

Howe caught on instantly. "Oh, bugger off. That was an awful pun." Despite her admonishing, a grin started folding itself on her lips. "Seriously, that was terrible. Take that back."

"I will not yield," I replied ceremoniously. "Anyway, you call her Yorkie, do you?"

She shook her head and chuckled my pun off. "Yes, to avoid confusion with the cruiser York. Exeter's sister?"

"They sound familiar," I narrowed my eyes, trying to pull the names out of stored memory. "Regardless, I think I'll stick to York or Duke until she grants me permission to refer to her the same way you do."

Howe inclined her head. "Might have to wait a while, then. At least, until we get back."

I shrugged. "It's two weeks. Barely any time." We paused briefly and sat in the atmosphere of the other's company before I piped up again. "Back to work?"

She nodded and cracked her knuckles, moving back up to her working position against the headboard and sliding the computer onto her lap. "Back to work."


After going through the checklists for the next hour and a half, I decided to finally call it when we hit a snag that couldn't immediately be cleared before moving forward. Pushing my chair back from the desk and stretching my arms up, yawning, I said, "Looks like we're all good."

"Yes," Howe said, the sleepiness in her voice now fully apparent. I could tell she was slowly starting to lose her cheery energy some two hours in, but she insisted that if I felt we needed to stop only at a certain point, she'd help me get there. "How long have we been at it for?"

"Since our last break," I flapped my lips and looked at the time, "An hour and a half. Since we started after supper, four hours."

Her eyes widened momentarily. "So, it's eleven o'clock?"

"Yep," I said.

"And in that time we got through your first three mission logs and filled out a majority of the fourth which was when the ambush happened," she said. "Minus the individual reports which we need to collect by the morning of the day after tomorrow if we don't want this backlogged."

"Yep," I laughed. "Two are better than one after all."

She grinned and continued, "Then, we need to log today's events, though that should just be an easy c-and-p. That, plus the compilation of the IRs can be done tomorrow, plus the log for tomorrow as well," she paused for dramatic effect, "which finally clears us of any backlogs and overlapping work."

We both slumped in our places in unison, tired from the slog. Yet, I noted to myself, that there is a distinction between this tiredness and the tiredness I used to feel. It isn't tiredness that culminated in me hating myself or beating myself up for not working everything I needed to completion. It was tiredness that patted me on the back and told me that I—no, that we had done a good job.

"Thank you so much for doing this," I piped up, turning the chair to face her. "Seriously, it means the world to me."

Howe smiled at me through her fatigue, giving me a fuzzy feeling in my chest. "Don't worry, James. We're all here for you so long as you're our friend."

Not your commanding officer, I mused to myself, but your friend. Something about that caressed my heart in a way that made it purr serenely. "Thank you for that, too. That means a whole lot more."

Grinning, she shut her computer off and got up off the bed. "Right! I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

"Sure thing," I replied, following her with my eyes on her way out. "Oh, which one of us is collecting the IRs? I can do it since you'll be—"

She held a hand up, silencing me in an instant. "No, no. I'll worry about that, and then we can work together to compile it."

I evaluated the proposition in my head before deciding that it made more sense. It opened up timeslots to properly oversee the task force without some dark premonitions about professional incompetence clouding my mind. That also allowed me to do one other thing.

Without protest, I nodded. "Alright, that works. As a matter of fact, that's perfect, since I've been meaning to have a few words with U1206 before we hit Norway. I get the feeling we're going to need to get creative out there, and she'll be instrumental to getting us out of it."

"You're the strategist here, James," Howe replied as she opened the door gently. "There's no doubt about that among any of us. Just tell us where to go when you need us there."

We locked eyes as she stepped over the threshold. I couldn't help a grin of my own. "Thank you for a third time for the trust. I hope I don't disappoint."

"You haven't until now," she yawned before pointing at me. "And you won't. Good evening, James! I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you too!"


A/N: I have officially graduated high school. Onwards to uni! Thanks a lot for reading this far and for the support. 'Till next time!

Cheers, Jarvis.