Just a heads up - this is a chapter preview! I've had this much of chapter 15 typed up and waiting for a week now and I haven't managed to get back to it, but I decided that uploading it might motivate me to finish it (sorry, I really am trying to make some progress with this story but I recently realized the direction I had planned would put me into a much bigger logistical plot-quagmire than I have the mental capacity to navigate atm - that and this fic was supposed to be light(er)~ish plotwise). So now I'm basically... scrabbling for dear life. I have thoughts percolating, but finding the time and inspiration to turn them into something you can read is proving difficult. I WILL get there, just continue to humour me, I beg of you.

Grovelling aside - here's an itty bit of Fred.

Cocking his head, Fred approached the red fabric conspicuously stirring in the breeze and paused to stare up at the statue in the square. He recognized the addition as Lyra's jacket, but what reason she might have had for hanging it off the replica Mark V was not apparent to him. She didn't seem to be in the immediate area, which was where he'd thought would be the most obvious place they might rendezvous. Maybe this was a signal for him to wait for her?

After several minutes passed by and still there was no sign of her, he reached up and plucked the jacket down. It was intact and the pockets, which he deliberated searching as a moral quandary, ultimately proved empty apart from a few crumpled tissues and the key card to her hotel room. Surely she didn't mean for him to go there to find her, did she?

He puzzled over the possibilities before deciding to check the gates, but found she wasn't there either. The two sentries straightened and snapped to attention when they noted him heading in their direction.

"Did Miss Ashton leave already? I found her jacket." Not a lie.

One shook his head while the other answered. "Sir, no, sir. She hasn't been by yet."

Fred turned back and retraced a path to the ground vehicle hangar, wondering if he'd misunderstood her intentions earlier or if there'd been some kind of miscommunication. When a walk of the perimeter of said building proved fruitless, he returned instead to the square, the last location he knew her to have been in.

Illogical concern was creeping in at this point. This was a secure base. Nothing untoward could have happened to her. He spiraled out from the statues, his senses stretched to their fullest capacity as he searched for anything unusual which might explain where she could be. A partial footprint on the asphalt caught his eye, obscured by being half dried, but the tread pattern did not match that of any fleet issued footwear he was familiar with. Lyra was one of only a handful of civilians with clearance to work on the premises. It was a good enough lead for him.

Forming a likely destination based on the trajectory of the track, he moved on with careful analysis of his surroundings. Perhaps she'd forgotten something somewhere and gone to retrieve it? Naples had not been present for the exercise, but neither could he see the doctor requiring a report at nearly 0400 hours, so it likely wasn't that. He almost convinced himself to return to the square to wait, but worst case scenario he would encounter her on her way back.

The flower petals might not have drawn his notice if not for the irregularity of seeing so many of them scattered on the asphalt. And in such a poignant symbol, he mused while pausing to crouch and study the blatant arrow. Was this supposed to be some sort of… message? Test? He couldn't imagine what the purpose might be in directing him around the base in such a manner, but he followed along in the indicated direction nonetheless. His gut was less unsettled with the seeming reassurance whatever was going on was a product of Lyra's free will and not a sign she was in any danger or had come to harm.

Scanning the exterior of the mess hall as he circled around to the northeast side, he wondered what had prompted this excursion. He'd assumed she had meant for them to meet somewhere obvious, but recalled her last words to have been 'find me'. When followed more literally as instructions and coupled with the jacket and flower petal arrangement, the intention became clearer - and his pulse thrummed in response.

She was hiding. She wanted him to locate her.

Not a test, precisely, but… a game? Fred had considerably more experience with the former than the latter. He was confident he could rise to her challenge, however, and continued his pursuit with renewed interest and eagerness.