Hi guys, another really late updating time I know, I can only apologise, I'm sorry to keep people waiting again ^^" I certainly hope these chapters are worth the wait.

I've been loving the reviews, they've been an absolute pleasure to read and everyone single one gives me a smile, so thank you very much everyone who wrote one. From what I've read you guys seem glad that I'm writing this sequel, and as far as I can tell y'all are enjoying the story. All I can say is it's gonna get crazier and more emotional, so look forward to that I guess... and I'm sorry in advance for making you wait for more chapters XD

This is another chapter about the tall, the dark, the handsome, the Dark Ace so enjoy :P

I don't own storm hawks but I wish I did, god I wish I did... so many things would happen in that show if I owned it ._.

OoO.

26 days before Aerrow finds Dark Ace.

"Weather forecast; stormy - obviously. The advice column, we don't need that we've got our shit together, right? Sports, blah blah, some team won. Oh, ha! A ride on Terra Neon crashed and someone lost a leg. " Ravess folded the newspaper down so she could get a good eyeful of the unconscious Dark Ace, as if expecting to get a reaction from him.

Eleven thirty in the morning, and the violinist was right on time, perched neatly on the plastic seat by his bedside, giving him one sided company. She had the daily newspaper in her hands, as she always did, but this was a pretty dry routine to be honest. She wasn't a news reader, she didn't even know if he was, but this was all she could think of to kill time. She had been his nurse for twelve days now, but she still hadn't thought of anything more original to discuss whilst humouring his sleeping state.

However, it was difficult to decide if conversing with Dark Ace was going to be easier, after he wakes up. The commander was a severely anti social man, no one bothered to associate themselves with him, and he never invited anyone to try. Ravess failed to imagine herself having a fifteen minute break with him in between duties, slagging off some lower rank soldiers, a naughty grin exchanged between them, knowing they were being unfairly rude.

Evidently, Ravess wasn't the only one who had reached this conclusion, because soldiers came in here often to visit the injured, or sick. And as far as she knew, none wandered over to him, to drop him a word of grievance, or wish him better. And the most, embarrassing Ravess would say, was that there was a get well card by every bed, a random cute bear by some, and some chocolates for the odd, lucky Talon. Dark Ace had none of that. This was mainly due to the assumption that the commander wasn't the kind of man you did that for. Everyone figured he didn't need it.

She stayed by his side until twelve o'clock, that was all her busy schedule allowed. Before leaving she took one last look at his pathetic state; his nefarious face cloaked behind the breathing mask, body limp, breathing pitiful. She subtly kissed her fingertips, then planted them on his forehead.

Her hips swayed invitingly as she left the hospital wing, lower ranks saluting her as they stumbled past, unworthy of her glance. By the time she had yet again glimpsed at the cracked tile in the changing room, and swapped back into her Talon attire, the dinner siren howled through the Terra.

She entered the dining hall, with her head held high like royalty as it always was, hands swinging in sync with her legs, steps taken just right to give her breasts a bit of captivating movement.

After filling her plate with salad and pasta, her yellow eyes scanned the tables. She begrudgingly chose to seat herself beside the biggest oaf in the army, or as she was expected to call him; her younger brother, Snipe. She would subject herself to his mind numbing behaviour today, because he was playing poker with his squadron again. Her fresh lipstick glimmered as she grinned to herself, sauntering towards them. She found gambling with them to be a gloat worthy exercise, because her card skills were something to envy.

She captured the look of displeasure in their eyes when they saw her wandering over, and her brother openly groaned as she sat down. Perfect, her usual sharp expression was brightened with delight, as her reputation preceded her.

But Ravess' victorious smirk before even receiving her hand rubbed Snipe wrong, and he knew that mumbling abuse would only encourage her ego. Fortunately he had managed to scrape a bit of an IQ from the gene pool, so he managed to conjure some devious insult that would surely rile his sister. Seeing her just as pissed off as he now was would be more than satisfying.

"How was your date?" He asked after swallowing a sandwich, spicy with mustard, the yellow substance joining the other stains that had yet to be scrubbed off his uniform.

"Date?" She asked, distracted by her cards, her brows furrowed as she tried understand what he was talking about. She didn't date, well she had before, but had given it up years ago, finding that men slowed her career down. She did bed the odd Cyclonian, when working out didn't unkink her stress.

And then the lines of confusion faded from her face, Snipe wasn't being sincere, of course not. That meat headed shit. How insulting! Insinuating that the only man she could date was unconscious!

Ravess looked less than amused, glaring daggers at her little brother. It was his turn to smirk, his uncouth eating habits showing bits of food stuck in his teeth. Her eyes quickly darted from right to left, at all of the Talons who were looking expectantly, waiting for her to appropriately retort.

"I'm sensing sarcasm my dear brother, is it maybe because your sex life doesn't go beyond that of a tissue box?"

His confidence did not waver, "You can be as bitchy as you want, but everyone knows your cock socket wants him, you only took the nurse job because of that."

She couldn't deny it, not when she was surrounded by the Queen's soldiers; all snivelly ass kissers. Simply because, while she hated to admit it, the rumour that she was pining for Dark Ace was an ideal cover up. So for now, she would just have to huff and cope with all the filthy whispers... despite them being true.

His crude wording had put her off her lunch, and she was gritting her teeth because she couldn't seem to conjure a decent response.

If she hurried (in an orderly fashion), she could get a good half an hour practice before having to resume her duties. So she scowled at her idiot brother, "Give your head a tap, I think the wheels have stopped moving again." Then the slender archer got to her feet, tray of hardly touched food in her hand, "and if that doesn't work, trying using your mace instead." With that said, she casually knocked his drink over, drenching his pants, then prowled away as elegantly as possible, expecting them to watch her leave.

She had successfully won the argument in her eyes. They were all morons, so let them whisper, it only benefited her. So far no one had caught her sneaking around the doctor's office, and she would continue to skulk around the infirmary, until she gathered some understanding of what her majesty was plotting. She had grown suspicious shortly after Dark Ace had been found, running on a gut feeling mostly, but her instincts were never wrong.

OoO.

Twelve hours had passed. All the doctors and nurses had signed off for the day, the ward dimmed into darkness, with only the breaths of patients breaking up the silence.

The sick Cyclonians lay in their dingy little beds. Some coughing, some rolling around in pain, whether it was from an illness, a skimmer crash, or maybe they hadn't had as good a hold on that crate of donuts as they'd thought.

Dark Ace looked like a corpse in an open coffin, so still and neat, arms limp by his side, face unemotional. Crimson eyes draped closed, chest rising and falling calmly, the beeping of the machine was the only lively thing about him.

Unforeseen, with no signs at all, Dark Ace's blood red eyes suddenly snapped open, a gasp of air shattering the once steady breath. Immediate disorientation and fear creased his face, his black brows trembling, mouth gaped, eyes shifting nervously as he realised his whereabouts. Little beads of sweat were already forming, his body twitched as anxiety jarred him, his heart thundering.

Hospital. But why?

Shit. How did I get here? The lack of compassionate standards in this ward was an indication, that this was specifically Cyclonia's hospital wing. As he gasped for more air, he became uncomfortably aware of the mask clasped over his face. OK, this was spiralling into a nightmarish wake up call.

Seriously, why the fuck was he in a hospital ward?! There was a beeping sound was close by and gradually increasing with speed, it was unnerving, and he could only associate it with trouble. His breaths were jagged and heavy, and it was constantly reminding him of the mask. He felt claustrophobic, and petrified, and it was dark, and he was alone.

His mind, in it's panicked state, was screaming at him to get out of there. The only positive that he could think of, was that he had not awoken to doctors hovering over him, peering down with their menacing, beady eyes. All sorts of medical crap floating through their heads, as they dabbled in the business of his body, that was not theirs to investigate. No, he belonged far away from this nauseating place, with it's musty stench, and it's tools that picked at you with a chilling sting.

Who was he to disobey the demands of a full fledged panic attack? Not him, he wasn't rational enough for this shit, with the capability of calming himself down, assure himself that it would be alright, and do the deep breath thing. Besides, he had no positive experiences with hospitals in the past, why would this time be any different?

So, with no regards to any possible consequences, he pulled the breather off his face, the elastic snapping the back of his head as he hurried to do so. Then, he turned his attention to the tubes that were sticking in his arm, and his hand, oh fucking hell he felt sick thinking about them in him, he did not feel good. GET OUT. He tore them out of his body like a confused beast in a trap, the beeping turned into an awful humming.

He tossed the thin blankets off. Oh fucking hell, he was in a hospital gown. God dammit, he better not have been here long enough for a lot of people to see this. Anyway, back to more important matters - he swung his lower half over the side, his weak body bending to gravity's law, making his limbs feel like lead.

All the while through this struggle he had to keep quiet, no one could know he was doing this, because if they did, they would 'helpfully' put him back to bed. Well, they could bloody try anyway.

He didn't need to be back in that bed. He was conscious, not bleeding, not throwing up, his vision was perfect. If it was up to him he would presume duty tomorrow, because he was perfectly fine, that woozy sensation would surely fade in a matter of hours. Doctors just like to worry, it's a habit of theirs, after all, their paychecks rely on worrying, don't they?

The floor was cold. He needed slippers. Fuck. No, he doesn't wear slippers. What an ugly thought. Boots! He meant boots, he needed some boots to walk across this cold floor. In fact, fuck the boots. He could handle the chill, cold didn't bother him, he wasn't a pussy. His gown fluttered back down in place by his calves when he finally stood tall out of bed. Oh merciless lord, he needed to change out of this gown, immediately, because it was disgusting to say the least. If he walked past a mirror he would smash it before seeing himself wearing it. He was going to punch something when he felt energized enough.

He took some shaken steps forward, glancing constantly at the other patients, daring them to wake up and see him struggling like this. His eyes felt a bit strained, telling him they wanted to close again. His head was fuzzy, but he stubbornly marched forward, the exit already captured in his sight.

How did I even end up here? It doesn't make sense. And how long have I been unconscious? As he continued to tread slowly and uncertainly through the ward, he ran his fingers over his face; no stubble, so he could only assume he'd been here since this morning or close to. He was oblivious to the fact that Ravess prefered a clean shaven soldier, and refused to let him get rugged.

He was so close to his sweet escape, but somewhere to his left, he heard a muffled conversation, and in an urgent panic not to get caught, he almost dived down in between two beds. Almost. Thankfully he just managed to stop himself at the bending of the knees, that would have been a horrific landing in his condition, and gown.

He sought out where the muttering was coming from, it appeared to be behind a door that was connected to this room. He assumed it was an office, and while the Talon never liked to involve himself in the business of scientists and doctors, paranoia convinced him to listen, incase they were discussing him.

Dark Ace had no idea what to expect, certainly didn't really expect much, but as he took another step, he picked out a particular voice. Master Cyclonis herself. What on Atmos was she doing in a doctor's office after midnight? What was she doing in a doctor's office anyway? She never bothered herself with the weaker side of her empire.

He tentatively continued to creep over, and he began to feel very concerned for some vague reason. When the commander pressed his ear to the door, he instantly summised that she had to be here to talk about him, although there was a nasty ache in his stomach, as he prayed for some miracle that she wasn't.

"You promised me results, and you guaranteed that we would be moving forward by now. You confirmed the blood sample you took was a unique mutation, and wouldn't need to be tampered with."

"Yes, Master Cyclonis..."

"So, why are my plans delayed?"

"Well, if we had a more samples to work with."

"What's stopping you? Take more samples, stop wasting my time with these petty excuses."

"Well it's delicate you see Master, the last time we took samples from him, some nurse with pink hair started asking questions."

"Some nurse?... I see."

"Actually, Master Cyclonis, I have an enquiry about him, if I may?"

"Speak."

"Well you see, he has shown no signs of recovery, the chances of revival are thinning, which could actually benefit us. See, we have his DNA now, so making what you have asked is possible. But to further our research and ensure perfect results, it would be in our best interest to um, unhook the life support machine... let his heart stop. Then overcoming any future problems would be easy. But if I miscalculate, I might not be able to reanimate him."

"Mr Dexter, are you suggesting killing my right hand man?"

"Forgive me, I just-"

"Request granted. At this point, if he dies it won't matter, and even if you miscalculate, there will be no loss, he has failed me numerous times. If we succeed I will never have to rely on the insubordination of people ever again. "

Dark Ace pulled away from the door, eyes wide, ears pulsing hot with the beating of his frantic heart rate. His breathing was loud, but he couldn't hold it back.

He backed away helplessly, the beads of sweat rolling down his face, leaving specks on the tiled floor, his face was white with distraught torment. Then, he fled with frantic steps, his head pounding as this madness clashed with his faint state. The raven haired man wasn't too sure where he was escaping to, a plan was slowly forging in his mind, it was weak and adolescent, but right now it was all he could think of: Run to the apartment, gather things, and... fly away from here.

He sounded, and felt like a weak minded coward, fear had taken him hostage, his palms were clammy with sweat. But what could he do? The hospital was a friggin death trap, and his queen had just spoke of his life as if he were... one of the regular Talons. He refused to accept death, certainly not like this, he was better than dying like some trapped lab rat. He was going to die in battle one day, slowly and painfully with some bastard's sword sticking out of his body. Hell yeah, that was how it was going to end. Once upon a time he had assumed such a gallant death would be for Cyclonis, but now, he couldn't even imagine looking her in those violet eyes again.

Unfortunately he didn't get too far. The last thing Dark Ace remembered, was the sound of his bare feet patting against the metallic floor, as he raced through Cyclonia's corridors. And then his body gave up, he lost control and fell heavily to the ground, darkness eclipsing his vision and eradicating all thoughts.

What a find he was.

Two Talons, walking to their posts at 6 am in the morning, bagels in hand, coffee in the other. An average, early morning discussion on how they slept, and obviously it was shit because they slept in the barracks, and therefore, were not granted the comfortable perks of a commanding officer.

Woah - hang the fuck on! Speaking of commanding officer, there he was, the dark ace, ha! The actual dark ace, the man who once looked at a subordinate and made the guy faint. He was sprawled out on the floor, in a um, a hospital gown? Yeah... that was a gown.

They knew he had been in hospital obviously, but well, you don't dare imagine Dark Ace in such garments until you have no choice but to look, which is why it was such a shock to behold. They could only thank the gods that the gown had done it's duty and concealed certain areas.

At first they just gawped at the sight, it was minutes later when they realised they were actually looking at a collapsed patient. Stuttering, one offered to go get help, while the other dashed over, kneeling by his side and cautiously checked his pulse, nervous that his boss might rip his hand off. After all, if Dark Ace ever found out that they had seen him in such a vulnerable state, funeral arrangements would have to be made.

Not that it was going to stop them from whispering about it, because this was just too good a story not to pass on, for the good of the morale of the troops and all that.

When the news was exchanged as hasty whispers between soldiers in the dining hall that day, there were suppressed sniggers, as each soldier tried to maintain their respect for the commander, souly for the sake of their lives. Snipe's was the only who's laughter bellowed throughout the hall, cackling like a maniac.

Oblivious to it all, the Dark Ace woke up, back on that thin mattress in the hospital ward. The first thing he focused on was a worried nurse gazing down at him, there was a vague familiarity about those yellow eyes. Her face softened with relief when she noticed he was awake, something he wasn't used to experiencing first hand, when she saw that he was focusing on her, a blush tinted her cheeks and she hastily turned her back to him. An amused grin surfaced on his face, she was quite plain looking, but her bashful state would be something to tease at.

Rather abruptly, she said with a viperish tone, "You're a bloody moron do you know that?" And his crimson eyes widened with a shocking realisation.

"Ravess?" He wondered aloud, his voice currently lacking the authoritative strength that he carried for all the Talons, which made it difficult to mask the fact that he was happy to see her.

The lack of makeup made it impossible for the blush to be concealed, she managed to roll her eyes though. She distracted herself by straightening out her drab uniform whilst she spoke to him, "How are you feeling?"

The question caught him off guard, and why the hell was she here with him to begin with? He cocked a black eyebrow and suspiciously answered, "I'm not in pain."

Suddenly the archer smirked devilishly, "No I meant your pride, collapsing like that, must have done it some real damage."

And there it was, she was still a feisty bitch. Great. At least he knew where he stood with this version of her. His lips twisted up with mischief as he glared back at her, and scoffed sarcastically, "Nice uniform by the way."

Her glare burned into him, but she gathered her dignity, fighting off the urge to wring his neck. Surprisingly her face began to soften. There was a bewitching glint in her eyes as she scanned him up and down, her pale lips parting sensually. Oxygen escaped her as she began to close the distance between them. Crimson eyes dilated, and the Dark Ace swallowed as she slowly lowered herself closer to him, only when their noses brushed did she finally stop.

His eyes were magnetised to her lips as she seemed to be yearning to kiss him, she held herself there for a moment, surprised that he wanted to do this, but she didn't dare let it show.

And then, with her usual snidy voice, she whispered, "Nice gown." His face twisted into humiliated outrage, she chuckled cruelly, and straightened herself back up, the chuckle growing into something louder when she spied a bit of colour, just a smidge, forming on his cheeks.

"Bitch," was all he could think to growl. He snarled "Fuck off," and crossed his arms, sharply averting his gaze.

"Can't, I have a patient."

"Oh really, who?"

"You, you miserable bastard."

"Well... this is going to be interesting," he huffed sarcastically, still looking pissed off.

"Yeah," she put her hands on her hips, "so start talking Dark Ace, for the good of your own health. How in the hell did you end up in that abandoned temple, unconscious? Everyone is dying to know."

There was a distant expression on his face as the question struck him, his eyes met hers for a moment, then his pupils began to shift around thoughtfully. His brow furrowed with bewilderment, and he finally answered, "No idea. I don't remember anything."

OoO.

24 days before Aerrow finds Dark Ace.

Dark Ace was sat brooding in bed with a face as miserable as sin, he had 'convinced' the doctors to swap his ridiculous gown for another hospital attire that includes pants, but that wasn't reason enough to sit there in a good mood. On his lap was a crossword puzzle book, something he had discovered to be the dullest thing on the Atmos.

It was his only form of entertainment. He used to have a ball, but after startling other patients by hurling it against the wall, it had been confiscated while he slept last night. So now he had this bullshit, and he detested it so, that he wasn't even using it properly, just doodling little people with too many swords and spears jabbed through them.

An impatient cough informed him of Ravess' presence, he looked up to find her standing there with a hand on her hip, a sour expression on her face.

"I hear you had another nightmare," she remarked, and he wasn't sure if this was a general, (unwanted), conversation starter, or if she was using it as ammunition in their verbal war. "That's got to be embarrassing for you." His disgrace and discomfort was masked by a furious look on his face, mouth twisted bitterly.

He steered his narrow eyes from her, giving no excuses or comments on the matter, he didn't have to say anything to her about it.

"Are you going to say anything?"

"Fuck off Ravess," he hissed irritably. Trying to cover his tracks, he absent mindedly continued, "I didn't have a nightmare, bastard doctors don't know what they're talking about."

She didn't fuck off, she sat down, as tenacious as ever with his fiery temper. "So it wasn't you thrashing around in your sleep? All freaked out when you woke up?" She wasn't being malicious now, she was actually behaving like a nurse.

But Dark Ace had not noticed her genuine concern, all he knew was that people had noticed his night terrors. The commander violently flung the crossword book away as his only release, "What the fuck do they know?"

Ravess sighed, he never cooperated, and she couldn't be bothered with his bullshit hissy fits today. Already one of her squadron members had given her shit about the rehearsing time, Snipe had been breathing too loud, and Cyclonis was being as shifty as ever. So she got up and marched off, with the promise that she would be back again tomorrow.

He folded his arms like a grumpy teenager as she left him, his inner thoughts cursing and grumbling, reassuring himself that he didn't need or want her company.

"I'd rather be on my own anyway," he quietly remarked.

Moments later, a Talon, who was far too happy to be working in the Cyclonian profession, came in with a big, white, cardboard box in his hands. Instantly some of the patients and visitors perked up, and greeted him with equally enthusiastic smiles. Dark Ace watched his lower ranks with curiousity, what the hell was there to be happy about? Especially in a bloody hospital. Most miserable place in the world if you asked him.

The attention was brought to a Talon called Loch, who was in the ward with a broken leg, he appeared the most excited, which vexed the commander, he pondered why anyone would be optimistic when injured and immobilized? It just seemed stupid.

Loch was laughing, pursing his lips bashfully, mumbling something like, "God you didn't have to do this."

The guy holding the box said "What? You think a little busted leg is gonna stop you from celebrating with the guys? Piss off, we've been looking forward to this all week! So ta-da! Here's your cake, happy birthday Loch!"

There was a round of applause and cheers from everyone in the room, by anyone who was conscious. Except Dark Ace, who really couldn't see what all the fuss was about. He had birthdays every year, just like every other fucker in the Atmos, and no one ever bothered to make a big deal out of it for him. So why was there all this joy for just one guy, there was nothing special about him.

The guy holding the cake set it down, and pulled out a knife, cutting slice after slice. Cyclonians started closing in on him with plates, slices being handed out to everyone; visitors, workers and patients alike, even the ones who were asleep were saved a piece by their bedside.

From what the commander could tell, it was chocolate? At least he hoped that's why it was brown, although it would be hilarious to see everyone spit it out if it tasted burnt. Regardless, he felt a little enlightened, he hadn't had a sweet treat for ages, and he was partial to a bit of cake as much as the next guy. So he waited for his hand out, the only thing restraining him from barking at them to move quicker, was the thought that they might drop it with fright. Plus looking desperate for some chocolate wasn't a good image.

But the longer he waited, the longer it hurt, because reality was sinking in. It hit him hard like a fist through his stomach, when the apparently empty box was crushed up, and literally everyone else was scoffing their share.

They were all laughing, talking, and treating the room like a dinner party, caught up in their own pleasantries to notice him. His crimson eyes fell down to his bed sheets, looking disappointed and unable to hide it. To avoid the shame, he quickly lowered himself to a lying position, his back facing everyone.

He lay there sheepishly, isolated by social norms, he couldn't help but sigh with an emotional kind of defeat. He was aware of everyone's disliking towards him, it had always been like this, like a wound that won't heal. He usually relished the fearful power and superiority it gave him. But this situation had just made him conscious of it, and the wound was now stinging pretty bad.

Fuck. Nobody here liked him.

OoO.

If you were reading the last part and honestly thought the Talons would give dark ace a piece of cake, despite him being a violent sociopath to like everyone canonically, then you are too precious for this world and atmos bless you XD

If you enjoyed that chapter, or you're anxious to see where I'm going with this, or you wanna punch me in the face for making dark ace lonely then leave me a review I would be very grateful :)