There was no rest for someone as wicked as the Commander. Least, that was what Eliza would snark to herself.
She was on her way to the Bridge, thanks to a summons from Bradford. He'd been upfront about wanting to discuss what their future plans for missions were. Eliza already knew she was going to insist on visiting the Warlock as soon as possible—and Bradford would go back and forth with her on it. Not that she begrudged him for doing so—if she was paying him, it would be what she paid him for. She valued that second opinion he brought, even if it was just to double-check everything she wanted to move forwards on. Besides, it wasn't like she could get mad at him outside of that; the man looked too good to be cross at. It was criminal.
Chuckling the thought off, she stepped through the door to the Bridge. It was around "morning" on the Avenger, so the Bridge was quiet and empty as everyone else caught breakfast. Eliza would be over there herself eventually—but Bradford was waiting for her at the Hologlobe. He nodded to her as she approached. "Commander." He squinted at her, and his mouth set. "You catch yourself in a mirror? The bags under your eyes look horrible."
Eliza gave a dramatic sigh. Truth be told... she'd woken up on her back in the middle of the night. Being on her back for twenty years tended to make the whole muscle memory, combined with sleep, freak her out. But Bradford didn't need to be saddled with her problems. He was just as taxed as she was in leading the resistance. Still, might as well joke with him. "Oh, please, Bradford. You know damn well how they got there. You run my schedule of managing the whole place, guiding missions, wrangling factions, and you see how hard it is to keep looking pretty." She grinned. "I still manage though, don't I?"
"'Managing' is a bit different than 'handling it well,' Eliza." He crossed his arms. "I know you've got a lot on your plate, but you need to look after yourself, too."
She gestured to him. "Did you and I not go to the same bootcamp? I know I don't hit the GTS every day but I do it at least three times a week. Plus, you know I'd strangle myself if I let my hygiene slip."
His shoulders slumped, and Eliza felt like he had something more to say. But instead of voicing his concerns... he moved on. "Well, I could stand here all day and lecture you on how you're not taking care of yourself, but we've got other things to handle." Bradford leaned over and tapped a few buttons on the display, bringing the Blacksite vial up. "You and I know Shen was able to pull some coordinates out of this damned thing, but recently I pulled one of the favors the Reapers owed us to get a more thorough scout of the location. Apparently it's a facility with a security detail to rival the force of the Blacksite—one of the scouts thinks they saw a Sectopod. No word on what's inside, but we do know that entry to the facility is ran through a checkpoint and two bridges."
She eyed the display of the Blacksite vial before turning to Bradford. "Are you suggesting we move on it as our next mission?"
"That's my thinking. We've left the Elders' plans alone long enough in the hunt for the Chosen. The Skirmishers have been good in keeping that Avatar project down, but we need to make moves of our own to make good on the effort they've been putting in."
Eliza clasped her hands in front of her. "About that." Bradford locked eyes with her, but motioned to indicate he was listening. Eliza continued. "I will very much concur that we need to be advancing on the Elders' project as soon as possible—but there's one other thing that must be handled before we do anything else." She levelled a calm gaze at him. "John. You saw Jax out there. I would think that what we heard over Fal-Mai's comms is more than enough to say that we need to mount the mission to get him away from the Elders."
Bradford opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, rubbing at his chin. The look on his face told of a sympathy going towards Jax battling with his duty as Central Officer. Eventually, one side won out. "As much as I hate to argue against that," he began, "you and I both know what's going on behind the Forge. We, at the very least, need to find out what's in there." He sighed. "Not to say that the Warlock can wait. Just..."
Eliza's expression softened. "Look. You're even having troubles justifying it. I know, we have to move immediately on it, which we can do. Mordenna and Fal-Mai can give me the location of Jax's Stronghold. After that, we can then turn tail and head over to the facility. The difference would be a day at most, and you and I both know we have enough soldiers for multiple squads. We shouldn't leave that situation going any longer."
Looking at her for a long moment, Bradford sighed again and looked to the side. "Not every day you're dealing with saving someone from a bad home life in war..."
"This war has been nothing but extraordinary situations, John." She walked closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But XCOM has always been about making a difference where it can. Jax needs that." She squeezed his shoulder. "And if you need me to run over all the non-emotional reasons, I can. Just to put your mind at ease."
Bradford settled a hand on hers, face becoming more gentle. He always seemed to unwind a bit more with her around. "—just one. Just so my worries aren't kicking my ass."
"The Warlock is a valuable asset to the Elders, considering his psionic prowess," Eliza began. "Taking him out, however we do it, will leave the Elders with no Chosen left to stand on, especially their strongest psion. Not to mention what the Templars will owe us."
After a moment, he nodded. "Knew you'd have a good one, Liz. You do know I just—"
"'Have to ask.' It's alright, John. I know you've got your worries, and I could always use a second opinion. God knows you've set me on the right path in the past, many times over." She could feel her gut starting to knot up. "Especially through First Contact..."
At that, Bradford moved his other hand to her shoulder. His shoulders squared and his face set. "Liz. Things were different back then. You were different."
Eliza fell into silence, though after a moment, she found what she wanted to say. "That woman was still me, John. Only at one point in time, but the fact that I could be like that..."
"First Contact was stressful on all of us. Plus, I'll be the first to admit that damn instructor of yours was shaping you into something nasty." Bradford looked her dead in the eye. "You were fighting for Earth. Trying to please countries who didn't give a damn about you. We were fighting a losing battle. Any lesser woman would've cracked under the pressure."
"Any better woman would've found another way."
Bradford straightened, looking up into her eyes. "Eliza. What happened then, happened. You're different now. It doesn't take someone who's known you like me to say you're a force of good. I know things weren't exactly... clandestine back then. But it's different now. You are, too. And I'll say that as many times as it takes to get it drilled into your head."
Eliza looked at him for a long moment, lidded eyes meeting his. Every time she thought on who she was, she had sworn never again. But it had happened, hadn't it? And what makes you so different to the Chosen you try to save? Don't you deserve redemption, too? It... was a matter of scale and power. The Chosen had the Elders dictating their actions. Eliza just had her. Her, a military budget, and six months of suffering.
Wordlessly, Eliza moved her hands and brought Bradford in for a hug. He didn't seem to have been expecting it—but even so, he adapted quickly and returned it. The reassuring squeeze calmed her heart a little and she closed her eyes. "... thank you, John. For everything. I know I'm not exactly the easiest to work with at times. I definitely wouldn't be here today without you."
It was a moment before Bradford responded. "—I wouldn't be here without you either, Liz. I'm doing what I can to return the favor. Someone's gotta make sure you're functioning, at the end of the day. And I'll always step up to the plate."
Eliza hugged him closer, relishing in the contact. She... definitely felt something for Bradford. But to ruin something like this by approaching a potential relationship? Though Eliza didn't doubt his ability to be impartial even afterwards... he probably didn't look at her like that. Bradford was a man set in the old world military standards. Falling in love with a "superior officer" like her was probably a thousand miles from his mind. Well, they could still be friends. "I'm glad to have someone like you. Never forget that."
"I won't. I promise."
It was a bit more of relaxing in the hug before Eliza was the first to break it off. She stepped back from him, setting a hand on his shoulder again. "Alright. So, Warlock's Stronghold as soon as I've got coordinates. Then, after that, Forge?"
A lot of tension seemed to have left Bradford. He looked as relaxed as Eliza had seen him in months. Maybe I should hug him more often. "Sounds about right. Anything... anything else you want to go over?"
"Maybe breakfast."
His chuckle made Eliza's heart lighter. "Of course, Commander."
Mordenna had seen a lot of different things across the planes with those eyes of his. Horrors that defied description. The true, decaying forms of the Elders. Other dimensions that, when the time and location were right, were easier for him to see than the reality he inhabited.
But a human fawning over a robot like this was relatively new.
Theoretically, Mordenna knew it was at least somewhat likely, given the right circumstances. Humans could be so hyper-empathetic sometimes. So for Rosa to be in the room with him, gently talking to SYN as he went through the final touches on his main datacore wasn't the weirdest thing he'd seen. Merely notable. The main problem he took with it was how it reminded him that he'd said something a little... off-kilter to them.
The mighty Mordenna, worrying that he might've hurt someone's feelings. Those kinds of thoughts were a little late, and Mordenna had to bite his lip to keep himself from saying them out loud. Rosa was fading into background noise for him and it was easy to feel like he was alone. She's practically talking to herself, there. Why not indulge? Easy; the things he was thinking about probably didn't need to be aired around her. Feelings, feelings, feelings. What's got you so soft?
"There's nothin' wrong with being soft," he muttered before he could stop himself. Rosa stopped in her murmuring, and something in him spurred him to continue. "Liz is soft. Too soft for her own good, maybe, but damn good for others. Don't gotta be a piece of shit, me. People out there have proven it's possible to not be a huge nuisance and still get the job done."
There was a bit of silence that Mordenna almost filled himself, if the chance wasn't swiftly taken away from him. "You talk to yourself? Or are you trying to strike up a conversation?"
"Eh. Little bit of column A... nothing of column B, come to think of it." Mordenna's fingers flew over a datapad as he worked. "Hate to interrupt your little chat. Can't help it, sometimes." Talking it out with himself was just so natural. Mordenna could point to a few reasons as to why, but the urge had always been with him. Even as a dog. He... didn't want to remember that time so much, but it was present during his early ADVENT years, yeah.
"Interesting topic, at least. To an untrained ear, it might sound like you're trying to get better." Rosa rested her hand on SYN's shoulder. "Definitely very interesting."
"A comet strikes the earth, the Great Winter comes, and lo, I beheld a pale horse and its rider's name was Death. Yadda yadda yadda." He leaned over and picked up SYN's core, turning it over to look at it. "Don't think I don't get what you're implying. If you want to accuse anyone of bringing on the apocalypse, it's Eliza. Without her, you lot would be—" All dead? Very helpful, Mordenna. "—undoubtedly in a far worse place. Thank whatever deity you bow to for her."
With her helmet off, Mordenna could watch as Rosa tossed her blond, mild shaved-undercut hair and chuckled gruffly. "Please. You say that like any of us don't. The woman's got her faults... but I trust her as a leader. Took me, put me where I belonged, and led me to SYN. I'm a happy woman."
At the mention of their relationship again, he grimaced. He... really needed to get around to saying something about that. He didn't want to repeat himself, though... so he'd save it for now. "Fair enough. One more minute and I'll have your Prince Charming online."
"Take the time you need." Rosa's voiced softened as quickly as she got confident. "I'd rather have him in one piece later than in subpar condition sooner."
Nodding, Mordenna went back to wholly focusing on his work. The sooner he could get this bot online, the sooner he could apologize, and the sooner he could go back to being... relatively guilt-free. Oh, Mordenna, a creature of guilt? Are you just feeling that because you knew Eliza heard that whole jab on your part? Maybe. But even if it just made Eliza happy, it had to be a good thing. God knows that, if nothing else, Mordenna was just trying to do right by Eliza now. Her little soldiers... eh. He'd work on that.
Was working on it, come to think of it. He didn't have to let Rosa in when she asked to see SYN. Could've just told her to pound sand as he worked. So you can work around her. Big whoop. It helped that she didn't hover. She seemed more concerned with the big guy than anything else. He could get that attachment. Though he wasn't like that with even his favorite guns, he could understand being like that with—
"Nope." Rosa turned her head towards him as he interrupted his thoughts. He shrugged it off, reinserting SYN's core, closing up his chassis, and tapping away on his pad. "Bad thought. Gone now. SYN's coming online in three... two... one... zero."
A mechanical hum sounded a few seconds after Mordenna pressed a final button. Lights on SYN's chassis smoothly kicked on, and the Hunter watched as startup data poured across his datapad. SYN's head raised, then he mechanically stood up and unfolded from his deactivated position, towering over Rosa and standing a bit under Mordenna. His head swiveled between the two of them.
Before he could speak, Mordenna's eyes flickered to the datapad. "SPARK SYN. Give me a last action report."
His systems hummed a touch louder before winding down again. "Last known action was receiving a second-hand debriefing from Chief Engineer Shen about upcoming mission 'Shadow Screech.' Judging by the way I am not at my charging station and you two have replaced her presence, I can reasonably estimate there has been some sort of an error."
"As much of an error as getting a sword shoved through your chest can be. Yeah, it's..." Mordenna trailed off. He was about to update SYN on the current day and what had gone down, but Rosa was now hugging the SPARK. The three of them lapsed into silence as SYN hugged his companion back.
Well. It was now or never. Mordenna anxiously cleared his throat. "Well! Now that the gang's back together, I think there's a thing or two I wanna say before I leave you two in peace. Firstly? Sorry for giving you an emergency restructuring, tin man. Part of the hunt, and all."
SYN's neuroptics turned towards him, then back down to Rosa. "This unit considers the blow it had administered earlier to you to be 'fair trade.' There is no lingering hostility."
"Hold your horses on that one," Mordenna muttered quickly before continuing. "And, to the two of you?" He set the datapad down, running a hand through the hair under his hood. "I'm... I'm sorry for making that jab at you two I did. Wasn't the best out of me. Maybe needlessly cruel even for me at that time. Probably didn't feel lovely." Empathy?! Out of you? The world really is ending. Well, then, let it! This felt nice. Settling things without murdering someone gave him a better feeling than the haze of sorrow and regret. If that was cause for everything to end, about damn time.
The two lovers exchanged a look, then Rosa laid her head against SYN's chest. "... it's. Alright. I get your apology. Even as weird as it sounds coming out of your mouth."
"Again, blame Eliza."
"Already did," Rosa shot back. "And, hey. I appreciate the meaning behind it. SYN?"
"The gesture is very much appreciated, Hunter Mordenna." His servos sounded out as SYN nodded. "You did not have to apologize—your noted work on bringing me back online would have been enough. As it goes, your goodwill shows. Thank you."
Mordenna cracked a smile, pointing a friendly finger-gun at him. "All good? All good. I'll leave you two to catch up. Just remind him of what he's missed, Fortuna. Rest is up to you."
With a wave from the two lovebirds, Mordenna departed from the Workshop, feeling a touch better about himself.
Sammy never did quite like walking alone in the ship.
Maybe it was something in him as a former ADVENT Medic that drove him to seek safety with others. Maybe it was something else. But being alone, even for just as long as it took to walk down to the Infirmary... Samhien kept his head down, focusing on his feet as he went on auto-pilot. It wouldn't take long. He'd be in there, he could check on Clint, and that would be someone. Maybe he could ask Sherry to walk him back to the Commons. Oh, but that would be interrupting her duties! He couldn't impose on her like that.
The sound of other footsteps down the hall made Sammy's head shoot up, and he was greeted with the sight of Vlad and Herod advancing towards him. Vlad... didn't particularly look like he wanted to be here, but Herod was pointedly walking behind him, as if he'd prod him onwards if he'd slow down. Judging by the way Vlad felt, he certainly didn't want to be here. The apprehension was pretty easy to read off of him. He had his helmet off too—revealing a scarred face with short, dark, curly hair on beige skin. Vlad wouldn't lock his brown eyes with Samhien.
But! It was more people. Sammy could feel his shoulders relax, and he smiled warmly. "Vlad! Herod! Good to find the both of you well."
Herod flashed him a smile. "Good to see you too, doc."
Vlad himself didn't say anything. Herod side-eyed him and nudged his foot. Muttering to himself, Vlad looked in Sammy's direction. Kind of. "Hey." Herod continued to glare at him, and eventually his apprehension gave way to resignation. Vlad sighed. "Look. Me, leaving you for dead out there, not good. Wasn't a good call. You're the medic, could've helped us two after." Looking to Herod for a moment, his mouth settled in a line. "I... I'm sorry you got nicked."
Samhien stood silently for a moment, face turning neutral as he studied Vlad. His apology... wasn't the most genuine, but there was a hint of effort in there that showed he was making some attempt to patch things up. Sammy understood that Vlad didn't have the best of views on him and Skirmishers. Still, the fact that he was going through with this? It made Samhien smile again. "Apology very much accepted, Vlad. I'm glad you came forward with it! I understand my kind may not be the easiest to accept, but to see you making an effort is good salve." He offered his hand.
Vlad stared at it for a bit. The pressure from Herod could be felt, but in the end, Vlad loosely took his hand and shook it once. "Well, glad that's clear." He was quick to withdraw, crossing his arms. "I almost thought this was going to have to be a whole thing—"
"Eliza chewed your ass out for a reason, V," Herod hissed, "Don't make me finish what she started." Turning back to regard Sammy, his face lifted again. "Vlad here will... need a bit more, I'd say, but he means well. Thanks for hearing him out, Sammy."
Samhien nodded. The genuineness from Herod always cheered him up. "Of course! Now, do either of you have anything more to impart? I would love to talk more..." His eyes scanned, and the door to the Infirmary was right behind the two of them. "... but I have patients to attend to in the Infirmary. Clint's state is tentative and I must insure he doesn't need any additional assistance."
"Sure thing!" Herod clapped a hand on Vlad's shoulder. "We'll get out of your way."
Vlad finally lifted his gaze to eye Samhien... and something in him shifted. His shoulders slumped and the unease Sammy could always feel directed at him waned a bit. "... good luck, doc. Clint needs it."
Sammy offered the both of them one more smile before they moved around each other. The two of them passed him, and Sammy made his way to the door, stepping in once he was granted access.
The sterility and relative quiet of the Infirmary always calmed Samhien. He felt right at home in the near soft edges of everything present—even if the new addition of one, soon to be two Chosen-sized beds in the back was something he would have to get used to. Fal-Mai had already been and gone through here for a checkup on her blast wounds—which had healed faster than Samhien gave the Chosen credit for. That left Clint on one of the far beds, EKG pulsing softly as the PsiOp weakly regarded him.
Sammy went to work cleaning his hands in the sink before approaching him, swiftly getting his gloves on, reaching Clint's bedside. "Clint Vonnet. Can you hear me?"
Clint groaned, rubbing at his eyes. "Y—yeah, Sam." He winced, probably catching the lights in the ceiling. "—got anymore painkillers? This headache's going to send me to hell."
Checking Clint's IV bag, Sammy nodded. "I can get you some more, yes, but we're going to have to meter out your doses." Taking the near-empty bag with him, he got a new one along with some painkillers and a cup of water, bringing them back and handing Clint the latter two while hooking up his new bag. "Take those, and then I would like to do another mental wellness check."
"Aye-aye, doc. God..." Clint popped the pills in his mouth and took a full swig of his water, sighing afterwards. Samhien took the cup as he was offered it, tossing it before coming back.
"Clint, please look to me." When he did, Sammy continued. "Do you know what year it is?"
"2035." He paused. "Unfortunately."
"Who is your Commander?"
"Eliza O'Leary."
"Do you now remember what you were last doing?"
Clint squinted, kneading his forehead with his hand. "—a little bit more than I did yesterday. I was... in a squad, Sherry, SYN, Rosa, Roland? Uh... Arsozu. Arsozu was our fifth. We were going through a building; I remember killing some ADVENT, but isn't that typical? Right." He hummed in thought. "I remember talking about hockey sticks—"
That... certainly wasn't correct. Samhien had gotten his hands on a recording of the fight from Eliza for when Clint woke up. He shook his head. "That wasn't you. Mordenna was the one who was talking about them, bantering with the Commander."
Clint regarded Samhien strangely. There was confusion bubbling up in his person, a lot of it. He shook his head, both hands on his temples. "No. I... I could swear that was me talking about that! I was—I was standing in front of the slab in my Inner Sanctum."
Worry was growing in Samhien. "Clint. You've never had an Inner Sanctum. It belonged to the Hunter."
The PsiOp lapsed into a minute of silence. His eyes flickered about, as if in thought, and his index finger was tapping his head. After that minute, it stopped, and he looked Samhien in the eye. "Sam... I—I wasn't a Reaper, was I?"
It took a moment for Samhien to shake his head slowly. "No. Not to my knowledge. You were picked up by Eliza in your Haven, initially deemed unfit for combat until the nonstandard exercise psionic training offered allowed you a way into her forces. From there, you have become one of her most talented soldiers."
Blinking a few more times, Clint muttered something under his breath before speaking up. "Alright. I... guess it was nothing."
Samhien's lips settled into a concerned frown. "I would believe your confusion leading up to asking that would provide a reason, yes? Please, tell me, Clint."
After a hesitant second, Clint began. "Well... I've. I've got these visions, I think. Winter trekking, trapping animals, laughing with folks that look a lot like Reapers. But..." Clint took his hands off of his head, staring at them. "My hands weren't ever that calloused, I don't think. And I remember before never leaving the boundaries of the Haven when it snowed. I was always helping people out in the Haven, helping budgeting, fine detail work, bringing in kill hauls—" He shook his head. "No. That one... I'm wearing fingerless gloves. I don't wear fingerless gloves."
"You prefer padded, full gloves in all of your armor."
"Right! But... there's a memory I've got, doc. I can remember a bit of it as clear as I'm talking to you." His hands flew about as he gestured. "I'm on my own, winter jacket on as I'm hunting. I've got my sights lined up on yet another rabbit. Standard fare, but it keeps the belly full if you kill enough of them—they're about the only thing that's survived the Chryssalids as well as they have. And then..." He shudders. "I just get this feeling—like all the hairs on my back are rising up. I can only pick out the purple glow shining down on the snow around me when it's too late—I'm getting scooped up by someone huge! He takes my rifle and crushes it in one of his gauntlets. I get a rush, like I'm falling, and..." Clint trailed off, arms lowering and hitting the blanket that covered his lower half. "That's it. It just... ends there, like I got knocked out then, too."
That whole recounting... deeply concerned Samhien. Judging by the things he had misremembered before, it sounded like he had picked up some of Mordenna's memories in his overload. Samhien took in a breath, bringing himself into a more measured calm. "... I can assure you, as far as we know, that memory is not yours. I... believe you have picked up thoughts and memories from the Hunter when you overpowered him."
"That..." Clint sighed. "That sounds likely. It's going to be one hell of a deal to sort through." He leaned back against the inclined part of the bed. "—anything else for me, doc? I want to get some good sleep. Think those painkillers are starting to work."
"Well..." There were a few more checks, but those were mostly centered around if Clint wanted to try to stay awake. He wound his hands together. "Just one other thing. Any residual pain or dizziness I should be aware of?"
"Outside of what's been going on? Nah. Feels like... well, as normal as this gets." Clint pulled up the blanket. "That's it?"
"That's it. Want the curtain drawn?"
"If you please. And—" He held up a hand. "I know where the call button is and where everything's at. I appreciate the intent behind the whole closing deal, but I know, doc."
Samhien nodded, grabbing a side of the privacy curtain. "If you understand, then I will refrain. Have a good rest, Clint."
"Thanks, Sam. I will."
Stepping into the Resistance Ring, Eliza's mind was already working away.
Datapad in hand as she entered, Eliza automatically took her usual spot. It wasn't nearly time to contact anyone—maybe Geist beforehand to assure him that they were about to handle the Warlock, but that was about it. "Can't help it," she muttered to herself, "it's my spot. I'll stand here and get shouted into the cold, cold ground with a smile on my face."
No, what she was here for was her monthly reports. It was getting closer and closer to the time Cato was going to contact her regarding her overall progress, and she wanted to be a step or two ahead at the meeting. "Not to mention figuring out if I want to ask the Resistance to do anything different. I think I'm still good with the gig I'm pulling with the Reapers... but I think the Skirmishers had something for me? Betos left me a message she wanted me to handle. Right, right, right..."
Opening up her datapad, she accessed the terminal in the room and checked through. Betos had, indeed, left her something. "Alright, talk to me, beautiful. 'Commander, we have had a development I believe you will find most welcome. A rather non-standard recruit came into our ranks, asking to be accepted. She calls herself Arachne and—' Sectoid?!" Eliza raised her eyebrows. According to the message, a Sectoid had come to the Skirmishers, seeking sanctum and the ability to fight back. Betos... tentatively accepted her, but admitted to Eliza that "while a hopeful sign, she is not the freed ADVENT we are used to." Knowing that Eliza had, and did take in the likes of the Chosen and Wiki into her ranks, she was asking if Eliza could take her in.
The Commander opened the field to respond. "I would most certainly love to take her into my ranks... show those bastards up top that they are failing everywhere. Should probably talk to Shen about getting more living spaces sorted out. I'd love to be optimistic and say trends are going to continue." Sending the message, Eliza straightened with a smile on her face. "Well! That brightens my day a bit."
"It is good to know that news finds you well, Commander."
Eliza could recognize the Assassin's husky voice anywhere, but she still jumped. Recovering quickly, she beamed at Fal-Mai, currently standing near one of the new couches in the room. "Fal-Mai! Scare the daylights out of me, why don't you. What do you need?"
Fal-Mai's eyes flitted away from Eliza's, and she slotted her fingers together in front of her, twiddling her thumbs. "... do you remember what you offered me, in my cell? I believe your words were 'a shoulder to cry on?'"
Eliza got the implication immediately, nodding. She set her datapad down on the table and walked over to the couches, sitting down on one. After a moment, the Assassin joined her, sitting on the same one. Eliza clasped her hands together on her lap, looking to Fal-Mai. "Alright, Fal-Mai. What's on your mind?"
Fal-Mai seemed to mimic Eliza's posture and hand position, though she did not look at the Commander. She looked like she was going to start—but shook her head. After that, she tried again. "I will be blunt, Commander. Though I had gambled on something... reprehensible being in my Ascension Facility files, I had not thought it would be so..." She splayed her hands out before bringing them together again. "So clear, of how inadequate she was. How inadequate I am."
Eliza shook her head. "You're certainly right about Helena, but definitely wrong about yourself. Calling yourself inadequate is implying you'll always have one role in life to fill. Everyone has different callings, sure, but that doesn't mean you can't have a place in yourself for more than one thing."
"I was meant as a perfect Assassin, Eliza." She closed her eyes. "A role I now know as impossible from the very beginning of my creation."
"Was, Fal-Mai." Eliza turned a bit more towards her and leaned forwards. "Under the Elders. Under 'gods' who didn't give a damn about you. You don't have to deal with their standards anymore."
"But won't I, Eliza?" Fal-Mai further squeezed her eyes shut. "I may not be with them now. But they have left an imprint on my very soul. I have been branded thanks to their cruelty. For as long as I live, I will have to deal with what she has done to me." Her voice dropped in volume. "Is that not what makes me inadequate? Having to struggle with that forevermore? How could I ever be acceptable again?"
Eliza could feel her chest soften at Fal-Mai's plight... as well as an anger for the Elders rise, but she shooed that off for now. Fal-Mai's own feelings were much more important. Eliza gently spread her arms out. "Fal-Mai."
Fal-Mai opened her eyes just enough to look to Eliza, and they widened a bitmore when she saw what the Commander was offering. She could see the Assassin's shoulders tense for a moment... but quickly after, she reached out and hugged Eliza, dragging her close. As Eliza wound her arms around her, her whole body seemed caught between relaxing and staying tense, like she didn't know what to do. At the same time, Eliza could feel the soft thudding of Fal-Mai's heart as she was pressed against her chest. In a word, Fal-Mai was likely nervous. Eliza could handle that just fine, and stroked her back.
She... was quite a touch stronger than Eliza gave her credit for, too. Mordenna hadn't squeezed her this hard. Eliza endured, however—it was clear Fal-Mai needed the outlet; something made even clearer by her next statement. "A-am I inadequate to you, C-Commander? Please, be truthful."
"No." Eliza said with conviction. "You are as far from inadequate as could be for me. I don't want perfection out of you, Fal-Mai—it's inherently impossible. Mistakes and accidents happen, and nobody should be punished that badly for them. There's a clear line between a deserved reprimand and abuse of power." She gave Fal-Mai a squeeze back. "I only ask that you put your best effort forth, and try to learn and grow. And trust me, I can see you're trying—and I'm proud."
Fal-Mai held Eliza closer, gently resting her head on her shoulder. "... I. I don't know if I can learn how to stop trying to be perfect," she murmured, voice shaking. "But I want to try. I just... don't want..."
She could feel Fal-Mai start to shake and she gently shushed her, patting her back. "Failing is ok. You wouldn't learn otherwise. You can learn a lot from a mistake. But let me make this clear—I will never, ever punish you like the Elders did. That just doesn't have a place on my ship. There's acceptable consequences and then there's that, which none of you deserved. You understand?"
Fal-Mai nodded beside her, but didn't verbally respond, opting instead to lean against the Commander. Eliza gladly supported her and kept running her hand across her back soothingly. The things the Elders did to the Chosen really cut at Eliza, and further reinforced the fact in her mind that she needed to go after Jax as soon as possible. This just wasn't right. Nobody should fear for messing up like this, and nobody should have had to go through that abuse. If she didn't have a strong desire to make the Elders suffer before...
"E-Eliza." Eliza nodded to show she was listening when Fal-Mai spoke up. "I... thank you. You didn't have to do any of this."
"Just because the Elders didn't care for you doesn't mean I won't, either. I want to see you get better and I'd be more than happy to help you get there."
Fal-Mai shook her head. "No. I very much think you do care. But... I would not imagine that a hug would be so calming..."
It really was—Eliza could feel that, over the course of the conversation, Fal-Mai had steadily decided on relaxing. She wasn't squeezing Eliza so much now as just holding her. Eliza smiled warmly. "A hug is a very powerful thing. You're free to them at any time from me, and I'll try to ask before I initiate them. I'm glad I was able to help." She paused for a moment. "Is there anything else on your mind?"
"Not for now, but." She felt Fal-Mai's head shift, as if she were looking over at something. "I believe I interrupted you when you were working. I will let you get back to your duties."
"Hey," Eliza interjected softly, "it's just paperwork. It can wait."
But Fal-Mai shook her head. "I do not have anything else for you, Eliza. Merely a 'shoulder to cry on' regarding the files." Slowly, almost reluctantly, Fal-Mai pulled away. There were no tear tracks on her face, but were her eyes a touch more orange? "Thank you, again, Eliza."
"Of course." Eliza beamed at her. "I'll say it again; I'm very proud of you. Coming to me to vent is a good action, and I'll always be happy to hear out your worries and comfort you. Got that?"
Nodding, Fal-Mai moved to stand. "I will remember that, Commander."
Eliza relaxed back into the chair... before starting upright. "Oh! One more thing. We're... heading over to get Jax, very shortly. Like, I'm handling these files and we're taking off as soon as I have a squad together, shortly. Would you...?"
It was a moment, but Fal-Mai responded after some brief consideration. "Yes. I would like to help my brother escape the Elders. It would be right, after the distress I caused him." She inclined her head towards the Commander. "If you require the coordinates to his Stronghold, I have them memorized."
"Grand! Tell them to Bradford—he's the one flying around here. Unfortunately." Eliza got up. "That's all I had. Bradford should be around here, most likely either at the Bar or the Bridge."
The Assassin nodded again. "I will be seeing you soon, Eliza." With that, Fal-Mai disappeared from sight, and the door to the Resistance Ring opened and then closed silently.
Now alone in the room again, Eliza got up and went back over to her spot, picking up her datapad. "Eliza, you are one outstanding woman, you know that?" She smiled fondly. "Not every day you get hugged by a tall, stealthy, attractive—"
She blinked, stopping in her spot. Well, that was a slip. But, the more Eliza thought on it? Fal-Mai had a very alluring charm to her. Far be it from her to give praise to the Elders, but Helena crafted something very beautiful. Fal-Mai's unnatural warmth still clung to Eliza and made her feel cold against the usual temperature of the room. Her heart was still pounding, too...
Eliza groaned. "'Letting your worldly attractions influence your choice of allies, Eliza?' We've been over this before with Mordenna. She's Chosen. Probably doesn't have eyes for you." She sighed. "Might even see you more as a mother compared to Helena, anyway. Let it be."
Her heart still ached, but Eliza shrugged it off. She was a real bleeding heart, this much was true. Trying her best to discard those thoughts, she thumbed through her datapad, mind now focusing on Jax. He was still out there, and god knows how he was feeling against everything.
Eliza lifted her eyes to the world map. "Hold on a little longer, Jax. We're coming."
