They get to the apartment, and Vaclav sees that it could only be called an apartment in the sense that its walls were connected to the buildings next to it. Beyond that, it was its own house, looking over the river. He wonders where she got this place from, figures he'll ask on the walk in. It has a large garden with high walls, and that can't have been in the original plans, because all of the other buildings don't. She steers the VTOL over the building and descends straight into the yard.
"I did have to do a little remodeling to make this a place I could use," she laughs, landing smoothly and reaching above to shut off the engines. She tilts her head, sends a command over her infolink, and just like she'd pressed a garage door button, the high walls of the garden start to move, closing over the plane. He realizes the analogy was more correct than initially expected – this was a garage, just one made for planes.
"Mal, what-" he's not even sure what he's going to ask. When did she build a garage? It doesn't quite make the place inconspicuous, but he supposes it is better than just leaving a VTOL on the lawn.
She grins at him, her eyes sparking delight, and he's glad at least to see her a little more herself. "I can't give you all my secrets. What would keep me interesting then?"
"The bad books, probably." He unclips his harness as the plane shuts down, standing. Notices that Icarus had not taken his eyes off her the whole time she'd been flying, as if he had been watching for her to pass out and preparing to take over. Could he fly a plane? Vaclav wouldn't put it past him.
Malik snorts, unclipping herself but remembering this time to not immediately try standing. She'd wait for one of them to bring the crutches they'd stolen from her. She turns halfway in her seat, careful not to shift her leg, and hears Vaclav standing. Before he can get over to her, Icarus walks past.
"Wait here," he rumbles softly and steps out of the plane soundlessly. Malik wonders if he'd seen something, noting his alert posture and careful movements, or if this was just his usual caution. Maybe he did this to any place he visited that hadn't been occupied in a while. It was a good instinct, she thought. One born out of needing it.
Vaclav steps up and hands her the crutches, looking out after Icarus as he moves from the garage toward the house. She tells the security system to unlock the door for him, nodding when his head whips back to check and see if she'd done it. Vaclav helps her stand and settle onto the support of the crutches, and she still has to focus on just that. She'd broken her leg many times riding horses in college, but at least then she'd still had the weight of it to swing around and keep her balanced. Now there was just…nothing. Temporary, she reminds herself. It won't be like this forever.
Icarus vanishes into the house and she and Vaclav exchange glances. He shrugs, and she makes a similar expression. She has to remember that she can't be standing and expressive with her hands or else she'll end up on the ground, and no one wanted that.
By the time Icarus returns, Vaclav's helped her out of the plane, and the assassin frowns like he's about to say something about it – perhaps something about how if there was a danger, she would've had a hard time getting back in the plane to escape – but keeps quiet. "All clear," he says instead.
"I'm so ready for my bed and a kitchen," she says eagerly, already starting to hobble towards the house. Vaclav is torn between the cargo and her for an instant, before running after her to be on standby, just in case. "Icarus, please tell me you can cook, because that one is useless," she teases, tossing a grin over her shoulder as she makes her slow way across the garage.
The assassin doesn't answer for a suspicious amount of time, and Vaclav raises an eyebrow at him.
"I get by," Icarus finally responds, and Vaclav laughs suddenly.
"Looks like he can't cook either, Mal! You're fresh out of luck," he's grinning, a hand on her back to help her remain stable. In the back of his mind, he thinks she was right – she did need to get out of his dungeon, maybe they all did. The site of almost losing her, and the reminder of how close he'd come to being alone again.
"Useless," she laughs. "I'll make something after I nap I guess." They'd need groceries, but she'd make one of them deal with it. Malik wasn't a star cook, but she could make something delicious out of whatever was in the kitchen, and she took pride in that skill.
Vaclav hops ahead of her to open the door and hold it to give her room to get through. "Give me a list and I'll go to the store," he offers, because he very much loves Malik's 'any-and-everything' omelettes. A specified list defied the purpose of her kitchen scrap breakfasts, but they would be here awhile, and she wouldn't make only omelettes for them. Vaclav also very much planned on ordering takeout for dinner – it might have been 3AM but he still hadn't eaten his third meal…or his second for that matter – once he got Malik situated. If he picked the right thing, it would make good breakfast leftovers too, so she could take it easy for a bit.
She gets in, and Vaclav holds the door for Icarus too, before moving to help her through the house. Though, if he was being honest, he had no idea where anything was, reaching blindly for a light switch in the dark and wondering why Icarus hadn't turned any of the lights on. He had those fancy aug eyes, sure, but once he was certain the house was empty he could have done them a favor. Vaclav finds it suddenly, with a quiet aha- and realizes he'd found Icarus' hand as the black alloy flicks up and the room is illuminated suddenly. The assassin has an eyebrow quirked in…amusement? Is that what that is?
"I want to take a shower. Or a bath. Whatever. Something." She wasn't sure what would be better for her leg – Vaclav most likely wouldn't want her to soak it, but she couldn't stand long enough to shower and manage to keep the leg out of water. She needed it, though, could still feel dried blood crust in her skin. Someone – Vaclav, probably – had wiped off the actual blood, but she felt it like it was just under her skin ,and the only thing that would help was hot water and soap.
"Mal-"
"I don't care if you need to find a showercap and rubberband it to my leg. I feel gross." And she sure as fuck didn't want to get into a clean bed with brand new sheets as she was now. Especially one she'd be spending a while in. Malik rarely stopped moving for more than a week – this was going to be rough, if only for missing flying. She'd done it for longer though, she reminds herself. Back in Hengsha, she didn't even go near a plane for a month. This would be fine.
"Alright, alright, we'll figure something out. Just gimme a sec," Vaclav placates, and helps Malik onto the couch. "Let me just find something and get a bath started, okay?" His hands up like he's surrendering, begging her to just give him a second. She laughs.
"Okayyy, fine. Thanks, kid," smiling up at him as she leans back against the couch.
Icarus makes no move to follow Vaclav or offer to help move those crates in, and he wonders if the assassin is looking for the best corner to put a chair in. He leaves him to it, not quite comfortable around him in any sense besides the ones when he comes in for a repair, and even that was treading on thin ice. He sure wasn't going to piss off a deadly weapon just for some help carrying in a few boxes, especially when he had strength augs of his own.
"You know, you don't have to be on guard all the time," Malik offers quietly once Vaclav is back outside. Adam turns to her, one eyebrow neatly curved over the top of his shades. She wonders if he'd practiced that in the mirror, making sure he conveys exactly how much he wants to. Which is, apparently, not a lot.
"That's the job," he explains, as if she didn't understand what a bodyguard was meant to do.
"I'm not going to die if you look away for a minute," she answers, a short laugh. He doesn't answer, which makes her think that he maybe doesn't agree with that sentiment. "I promise," a little more firm this time, "I'm already not paying you what your time is worth – just…take it a little easier."
His shoulders stiffen, and she thinks maybe she's offended him. Shit. He looks even less relaxed than before, which was the exact opposite response she wanted.
"That's not what I mean-" a huff of annoyance. She hated this. Hated being helpless. "I appreciate you being here but. I'm not going to wilt like some rose whose soil is just barely too acidic." She can't stop thinking about how adamant, how close, how ready he'd been to catch her the first time she tried to stand. Vaclav too, but she knew that was out of worry – she wasn't quite sure why Adam was so…invested, too. "You can relax, too."
Adam opens his mouth like he's about to disagree, and pauses.
"It would make it easier on me," she offers, hoping that giving him an out would help him loosen up a little. She might go crazy if he insists on sitting in her room while she sleeps and not using the third guest bedroom which most certainly exists in this house.
"You asked me to be your bodyguard, not to make your life easier." There's the slightest curl in the corner of his lips as he says that, and Malik snorts.
"Fair, you've got me there." She's smiling now, at least. "I would appreciate it, though." She leaves it at that. Any harder a push and it might be too much.
He lets out a short sigh, shoulders dropping, and she thinks that might be acquiescence. Either she's gotten good at getting things out of men, or both Adam and Vaclav are going easy on her.
Vaclav walks back in with an open box, dropping it by the door and looking like he was about to go somewhere before pausing. "Which way is your room, Mal?" he asks suddenly.
Malik laughs, and Icarus looks…well, a little less standoffish than he had earlier. Vaclav's not sure what changed.
"The one with the river view. Down the hall and to the left," she answers. Pointing helpfully. The house had two rooms on one side, and one on the other with a connected office, which just happened to have been converted into a mechanic's shop. She was just waiting for Vaclav to see it. He'd probably notice while she was in the bath, and she'd be able to hear him from across the house.
He flashes her a thumbs up and takes the box down that way.
She hears the sound of running water and reaches for the crutches. Adam is there before she can get to them, handing them to her and helping her stand. "Thanks," she smiles soft. No point in being sullen about it, and it wouldn't be like this for long. Especially if Adam blamed himself for the loss of her leg, which she thought he might.
By the time she gets to her room, the bath is full and Vaclav is waving a piece of…something that almost looks like a swimcap at her, and what could have been one of his suspenders in his other. She snorts, and reaches to take them. "Thanks, kid." Tucking the two items in the pocket of her shorts and heading for the bath. He looks like he's about to follow, but she just glances over her shoulder. "I've got this. You'll hear an undignified yelp if I don't," a short laugh and really, she just needs some time alone. A little bit to remember she was still the Phoenix, still a powerful player in the underground. And perhaps to start thinking about her return.
She closes the bathroom door – doesn't lock it, just in case one of them decide to force their way in, she'd rather still have a functioning door at the end of it – and sits on the edge of the bathtub to undress. It's a pain, but she focuses on the sweet reward at the end of it, covering the bandages on her leg and tightening the plastic over it with the strap Vaclav had given her.
She lowers herself into the warm water and nearly whimpers at how good it feels. Instantly relaxing and leaning her head back against the cushion on one end of the tub, and she doesn't even start scrubbing like she'd planned to. It feels too good, and she smells a sweet floral scent – Valcav must have found the bath salts. She's impressed he didn't overdo it.
Her leg aches, but it's soothed a little in the warm water, and she just relaxes with her eyes closed for a while. She could almost fall asleep, but she doubts Vaclav would let her get away with that. She'll take however long she gets, feeling the muscles in her back start to loosen from their tight soreness.
Idly, she thinks over her situation. No one knew she was alive, and once her mechanics stopped getting shipments, they'd start to think that the rumors they'd heard were true. New rumors would spring up of her death, and some groups might scramble to try and take over her areas. She'd have to recover faster than they could organize to do that, and she had to hope that her crews were loyal enough to not give up on her so easily, without any kind of proof.
Maybe the best way for her to come back would be the next Gala. She hadn't been to one yet this year, but the winter one was coming up in a few months, and she should be well enough adjusted by then, while not taking too long and leaving all those who relied on her high and dry. Not that three months was anywhere near enough to adjust to a new aug, but if Adam stayed like he said he would, she thinks she can manage it. And where else could she prove just how unkillable the Phoenix was? That they had better just give up.
She's smiling to herself, already itching for the day she'll walk again, and then when she can get back to work. Back to stealing and flying and helping people. She wonders if Adam will stay then, too. If he will continue working for her or if, as he'd said 'she looked like she needed the help now,' and he'd leave when she was back on her feet, literally.
That particular thought is interrupted by a distant shriek on the other end of the house and Malik snorts. Vaclav found the workshop, she's betting. She hears him calling and doesn't answer his questions, just laughing loud enough for him to hear that she was still awake. She hears Adam's gruff rumble too, and wonders if the assassin had been startled, had thought there was a threat. Somehow she wouldn't be surprised. Maybe the time she had to spend cooped up would pass faster than she thought.
It does take Malik a while to settle into this sedentary lifestyle, where she moves little – generally just walking from her room to the living room to sit in the bay window and drink in the sun over the river – and is never alone. Vaclav is constantly holed up in his room or the workshop when he's not checking on her, and Adam is always in the same room she is, save for when she sleeps and he takes the empty room. She'd nearly had to beg him to, but she put her foot down and started to drag the only chair in her room out when he'd made a move to sit in it. That had been too much, even for her. His expression had been an entertaining one, though, the panic as she threatened to hurt herself over this argument and his annoyance at being rebuffed so.
They had settled though, and Vaclav had started to learn how to cook, if only because the first few times she tried it she nearly fell with a cooking knife in her hands. So she directed while he did his best, and at least the food came out edible...mostly. Adam had even grumbled that engine oil would taste better once, and that was…that must have been a joke. Malik had laughed, surprised, and Vaclav couldn't help himself from joining in on that too. The steely reserved assassin had a sense of humor.
It's not until Malik's leg is nearly healed that Vaclav suddenly brings up a topic he hadn't mentioned in a while. "Mal, have you thought about what you want to do with your leg?" A glance over his shoulder to the cryotank in her room, as if she could have possibly forgotten which leg he was talking about.
She hums, looking out the window as he changes the bandages – she was perfectly capable of doing it, but she let him because he would do it again anyway after – and doesn't answer for a moment. "Well, we've gotta get rid of it, don't we?" She moved around too much for any one place to be safe for it, and even if there was one, she wouldn't quite be comfortable leaving it behind. Best to just be done with it, perhaps.
"You don't have to, it'll last in that tank for…basically forever if it's not broken, but that might be a good idea. You know DNA tech isn't anything new, and who knows what could be done with a whole limb? Who knows, they might even make a clone of you," he jests, eyebrows waggling, and Malik snorts.
"They're not that far along yet, kid. I guess we could incinerate it, but that's kind of boring." She's looking back down, now, at the empty spot where her leg should have been.
"Could always give it a Viking funeral," Vaclav laughs, pointing out at the water. Malik laughs, but a little less like she's along for the joke and maybe more like she's taking it seriously.
"But I don't have a bow or flaming arrows," she points out, leaning her cheek on her hand.
"Grenade launcher," Adam joins in from his usual perch, and Vaclav jerks in surprise, a startled laugh escaping him.
"You too?" he asks, letting go of Malik's leg, finished with checking it over.
"I don't have one of those either, Icarus," Malik points out.
"I do," the assassin answers, as if that should have been obvious. Well…to be fair, it really should have been. But where? Vaclav had never seen any kind of large weapons on the scale of a grenade launcher around. Just small firearms for the most part, and he knew that the assassin was weapon enough on his own, just based on his extensive augmentations.
"Are you two being serious?" Vaclav almost squeaks. He thought they were playing this undercover mostly, and setting fire to something in a river with a grenade launcher was just begging to be found out.
"Yeah why not?" Malik answers flippantly, but Vaclav can see the spark in her eyes that is just begging to do something, to go out and he'd call it itchy trigger fingers if she was more of the gun type.
The mechanic sighs, giving up. "As long as we don't do it right next to your house." Which only seems to make Malik look more eager, and he really should have realized that when he's known how much she wants to get out and go back to her smuggling career.
"We're going to need a little wooden boat, a grenade launcher, and a few grenades." Like hell if she was letting anyone but her blow up her leg, but she…also might miss once or twice.
Vaclav pinches the bridge of his nose, and Icarus rumbles out a laugh. Any stranger and Malik would start walking on a spectral leg. He throws his hands up in the air and goes back to his workshop, and his schematics for her new leg, where things made sense.
A few days later, Icarus comes home – he'd left? When had he left? – with a small boatin his hands, and Vaclav can't believe this is actually happening. Malik claps her hands with glee when she sees, setting down the book she'd been reading and grinning. If she was going to never see her leg again, it had better be in some flashy explosion, and what better way than losing it to the ocean? If she ever went, she'd want it to be flashy.
It was all symbolism, really. A phoenix burned by fire would only rise stronger and renewed, and she was going to do just that. No matter how many tried to kill her, she would keep doing what she did and helping augs who couldn't afford to survive without it. She wouldn't let greedy bastards like the ones in Bulgaria make money off the backs of those who just wanted to live.
The sun was setting, and she looks far too excited to even consider winding down for the day. "Are we going now?"
Icarus looks amused – he's started doing that more lately, and Vaclav wonders what's happening. What has happened. Is there something he's missing in the hours he spends in the workshop, starting to build her leg? Or is Icarus just settling into a long job and figuring he may as well seem more human to his client. Maybe it's both. Maybe neither. Vaclav gives up on the thought shortly after starting it – any train that involved trying to figure out Icarus wasn't worth its while, mainly because it always hit a dead end sooner or later.
"We can," the assassin answers, and Vaclav groans.
"And how, precisely, are we going to get there? We can't just fly in and out of here and expect to not be noticed again," he points out. Since when had Vaclav Koller become the voice of reason? Is this what Malik had done to him? Made herself so reckless that he had to step up so that she didn't get herself killed?
"Taxis exist," Malik responds, and he sighs. She's been looking forward to this for days, and he doesn't have it in him to keep it from her any longer, especially when he had brought it up in the first place.
"Alright, alright, I'll call one while you get ready. Icarus, you bring kerosene?" If they're going to do this, they're going to do it properly if Vaclav has any say over it. The assassin raises a single eyebrow at him, and Vaclav takes that to mean 'yes of course I do.'
Malik couldn't even wait to get her new leg to do this, but maybe it'll quell the itch to go out in her until he's able to finish the leg. He's been working at it constantly, barely sleeping, and it shows. Malik yelled at him once for it, but he wants to be done, wants her to have her leg back. And she couldn't stop him, anyway.
He grabs the cryotank with her leg in it while Icarus puts an actual, honest-to-god grenade launcher in the little boat, holding it to his chest in a way that concealed the weapon easily. Christ. Vaclav wants to ask where he got the weapon, but at the same time he thinks that maybe he doesn't want to actually know.
There's a taxi waiting for them when they get outside of the garage-hangar, and Icarus puts the items in the trunk before the cabby can think of reconsidering at the sight of so many augs. Vaclav puts the leg in too, and quickly climbs into the back seat to help Malik in. Adam gets in front, looking closely at the driver before instructing him to the docks nearby, where the river was widest. The driver looks worried, but doesn't say anything, just turning on the radio before driving where he was told.
-
The taxi leaves them by a quiet dock near where the river was widest, looking suspiciously but not saying anything once he was paid, eager to leave them behind for more naturalclients. Malik hobbled down the slope behind Adam, leaning on Vaclav to take the steps down to the water, and oh the fresh air is crisp in her lungs, sweet and sharp. She missed skydiving suddenly. The burn of night air against her cheeks, the lights of a city below.
This was a good taste, at least.
Adam lowers the little boat into the water soundlessly, and she wonders where he even got it. Maybe she'll ask him when they get back home. She reflects for a moment on how strange it is that she accustomed to him in her life daily so quickly. Faridah Malik, the Phoenix who took care of herself and always had, growing used to and more or less welcoming another person into her life? Unthinkable to any not in her circle, and bizarre even to Vaclav and Pritchard. Perhaps Pritchard less so. He'd gone mysteriously silent once Malik had stabilized, which wasn't all that unusual from him except that he'd actually warned them this time. Still, she knew he'd call if he needed her help. Hopefully, anyway.
Vaclav runs back up the steps to grab the leg once she's down by the water, and she lowers herself to sit on the dock, one foot trailing just a hair's breadth above the water. The assassin poured kerosene into the little wooden craft as he held it from drifting, and she had a moment of startled clarity, that they were really doing this. The fact that she paused to reflect on that was probably a little more telling than if she had just barged forward without stopping to think twice.
The mechanic hands her the tank, letting this be her choice. She knows there's no more fun way to do this, though, and pops the seal open, the hiss of freezing air meeting the chilly but far warmer night. She opens the hatch and dumps her leg right into the boat. She hefts the tank off to the side – if anything, that was an expensive item she'd taken from…whoever.
"Is this where I'm supposed to say a word of farewell? Or is that after the explosions?"
"Traditionally, there aren't explosions, Mal, just a long bonfire." Vaclav answers, holding the other end of the boat as Icarus hands Malik the weapon.
"Did you bring any duds?" she asks, looking up at him, his black coat blending in with the night, as dark as the sky above in such an illuminated city. "I mean, I might get it in one, but I'd rather not blow up the river if I don't." She also very much wanted to land it in one.
"you're asking me if I have any grenade-shaped rocks," Icarus deadpans back to her, and both Malik and Vaclav snort.
"Yeah, basically."
"No, 'Mal', I did not." There's that twist on her name again. She still hasn't quite figured out what that means just yet.
"Well, guess I'd better be perfect, then." She hefts the grenade launcher in her lap, looking at it a little bemusedly. She's fired guns before, not weapons on a scale like this.
Vaclav notices the front of the little boat start to drift and he realizes that's because Icarus has taken his hands off of it to drape over Malik and adjust her hold on the weapon, slide her right hand near the trigger, and brace it properly against her shoulder. Not that it had as much kick as some of his other weapons, but still. Vaclav watches in mild awe, that she's let someone so close, that the fearsome assassin who growled and rumbled could be so gentle. If the night got any more bizarre, he'd assume he was dreaming.
She hums her thanks, tucks her leg over the lip of the boat to pull it close, and shoves it off, leaning backwards sharply to counterbalance. Vaclav lets it go at just the right moment to let the little craft go sailing off, and Malik watches it for a little.
When it's just starting to drift closer to the river's current, she aims high and squeezes the trigger. That recognizable thonksounded as the projectile soared from her hands. If she did it right, the grenade would blow right over the boat and set it ablaze without breaking it apart. Half a second later, the night around them lit up as a relatively small explosion lit up the boat just underneath it, and the kerosene-soaked wood quickly caught alight.
Malik set the weapon aside, both her hands on the dock as she just watched the flames lick upward and consume the whole boat. Just like that, she'd lost a piece of herself. It had been gone in all senses of the word long before just now, but this was the final nail in the coffin that she drilled herself.
"She was a good leg," she starts, trying to sound somber, but the glint in her eyes probably gives her away, and both Adam and Vaclav make noises of amusements. "She took great care of me, despite all the abuse I put her through in college and in life. I'd say I'll miss her greatly, but I'm pretty sure my new one's gonna be way cooler, so." Vaclav laughs at that, and Malik smiles to herself. "Shit, I forgot my flask," she makes a show of digging around in her jacket, as if she'd ever had a flask of whiskey on her. "Who's going to pour one out for ol' leggy now?"
There's a cold metal object placed in her hand suddenly, and Malik looks down to it – an actual flask, and she looks up from her hand to the black alloy arm and up to Adam. Why is she surprised that he of all people carried alcohol on him at all times? She snorts, pops the top and takes a swig – strong scotch and she hadn't quite been ready, but she relishes the sudden warmth of fire down her throat. She pours the next sip onto the docks, and notices just the slightest furrowing of Adam's brows. The taste and that look both told her more than words could – that was some expensive whiskey.
"Mal, you shouldn't be drinking when you're on so many painkillers-" Vaclav protests, just a few moments too late. She shrugs helplessly, as if the decision had been out of her hands.
"Can't just let a friend go without drinking a toast," she replies teasingly, handing Adam back his flask. He immediately slides it into his coat, some dark pocket well-hidden, and she turns back to watching the flames. They're less intense than the first kerosene-filled moments, but still a pretty sight reflected on the dark waters, almost fitting into the reflected city skyline across the way.
A comfortable silence falls over them as they all watch the boat until the flames become embers, and there's a quiet crack as the boat breaks apart and is swept away. Malik watches a while longer, even when it's long gone. Something taken but not without a heavy price – they'd died for it and she would only come back stronger, more furious, with flames sharper and hotter than they had been before.
She shivers a little in the cold then, without something to fixate on, and almost doesn't notice it until Vaclav stands. "Well, guess we should get back home before it gets light." He bends down, offering her a hand up, and Icarus helps from the other side, the two of them lifting her and handing her crutches to put her weight back onto.
"Is this vampire-Vaclav? When did you switch out with normal Vaclav?" she prods, starting for the stairs, knowing they'd have more than enough time to catch up to her.
"That's my secret, Mal, I've always been a vampire." Just like those bad novels they read together, and Malik huffs at him.
"Right, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at noon."
Icarus says nothing, but he looks somewhat amused and not annoyed, so that was something.
Her leg aches a little less when she gets to bed that morning.