A/N: Everyone give Madame Lady and .PhaerynTao a gigantic applause for their beta-ing skills! You gals are awesome.
Lady with the Lamp
( chapter two: to the edge of the earth )
The first thing she does after her trip to the hospital is sit at the kitchen table for vanilla cookies and apple juice with the rest of her teammates. For some reason, her neck is uncomfortably warm and her heart is racing fast. Outside, it's a perfect summer day, and the Condor is on autopilot, heading towards a small terra known for its picturesque scenic spots. A perfect place for an afternoon picnic.
They make small talk about the stringent cleanliness of the stone buildings, and Piper lectures them on the long history behind the hospital; it used to be a religious sanctuary. It is named Our Lady of Lourdes for a reason. She squints when the sunlight hits her directly in the eyes through the portholes, and asks Finn to close the blinds for Stork's sake. He breaks out in hives with too much exposure.
Junko asks if anyone is going to polish off the biscuits and when no one objects, he lifts the entire plate, places it in front of him, and promptly consumes the rest of the goodies with his bare hands. Lynn chuckles.
"So, that's the Dark Ace, huh?" Finn clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue in approval.
"That's right. That's the infamous right hand man of Master Cyclonis."
"He doesn't look all that scary to me." Stork gives their newest recruit a pointed look. Young, snarky, and fifteen – that was Lynn all right. Discovered during an undercover mission at a Talon academy, Aerrow kept his promise to create a reserve Storm Hawk squadron and eventually brought Lynn into the group, much to Piper's delight.
"Oh, but he is. They said that if you looked into his red eyes, you could see your death coming right at you." Stork stands behind the girl, waving his fingers on either side of her face and speaks in a manner befitting one telling a ghost story around a campfire.
"Rumours say that when he held the Aurora Stone in his hand against a battalion of sky knights, the monsters of the Wastelands rose up from the depths, ready to snatch their prey from the skies. Large, black monsters that preferred to feed upon young girls… " Lynn's eyes widen as Stork continues his tale. Behind the Merb, another shadow looms over him, his long fingers wiggling mischievously.
"Girls… just… like… YOU! " Stork screams when Finn jumps him and grabs the pilot around the waist, effectively scaring the daylights out of his pilot.
Lynn bursts out laughing. Piper is not amused.
"Finn!" She smacks the blonde in the arm. "That was mean!"
He shrugs. "Hey! I was just trying to lighten things up a bit! C'mon, Lynn here doesn't need to know all the gory details. And after a trip to the hospital, I'm definitely in a mood for some humour." He raises an eyebrow when Piper's jaw tightens and she leaves the table to refill her cup. He knows her long enough to recognize when something else is on her mind. She's been moody since their morning trip, and he wonders what really went on inside the ward.
Finn feels a little guilty that the crew left her to speak to the Cyclonian alone, but she was the only one capable to get through to him.
"Hey, want to tell us what's really on your mind, Piper?"
With her back facing her teammates, she pours the juice into her glass and listens, a waterfall of clear amber liquid, and drains it down with a long, noisy gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Junko voices his opinion on the matter.
"Yeah, Piper. What did the Dark Ace say?"
"He said to come back later."
"Do you think he'll take the offer?" That's Lynn now.
Piper repeats her words and stresses them more, hoping they'll get the picture without her having to explain further. Her body may be in the Condor, but her mind remains at the ward. "He said to come back later."
Stork sighs heavily and sits down on the table, looking morose as usual. Summer weather is bad, the heat affects everyone's minds. Finn runs a hand through his hair and squeezes himself between Lynn and the Merb, and points at Junko's chin.
"Dude, your face is still full of crumbs." The Wallop rubs the cookie remains off with a brown thumb. He scoots over a bit when Piper decides to plunk down beside him and props her elbows on the table in bad manner, cradling her head. Junko pats her back comfortingly.
"Headache, Piper?"
She sighs. "Yeah." Raising her head, she glares at Finn in a childlike manner for aggravating her situation. Blinking, she glances around the table and sees four pairs of eyes watching her as if she was ready to split open any moment like a burst burrito. When Stork asks her if she came in physical contact with the strange fronds gracing the hospital's lobby area she shakes her head and clutches her stomach. Stress. The apple juice loudly disagrees with the cookies.
"Ugh." And Piper excuses herself from the table, ready for a nap, but mostly, it's an excuse to think in solitude.
In her darkened bedroom, Finn knocks on her door and opens it without her permission. The girl looks pointedly at him and drops her head back on the cold sheets. Touching her head and neck, her skin is flush.
"Are you really sick, Piper? Or are you just playing hooky? C'mon, I know you long enough to know when something's on your mind – and I'm sorry if you take it the wrong way, but you're not very good at telling lies." It doesn't bother her when he sits on the edge of the mattress and prods her gently in the side. "Piper?"
"What if we don't find him?" Her voice is small and uncertain and Finn knows exactly what she is talking about. "What if they're gone for good?"
Glancing over at her table, he notes the particular layout of the heavy metal desk. There is a blueprint of the Condor tacked to the wall, the pathways marked in red felt showing all the emergency exits. Piper's goggles, the ones that make her look funny by exaggerating the size of her eyes, is next to a microscope and a four inch stack of paper. The marksman shudders. He hates to be bothered with paperwork. A well-worn brown notebook catches his eye. It's almost as thick as the paperwork.
"Hey, look. Here's your journal."
"Don't touch it, Finn." Piper's response is automatic. Huh, even with a headache she knows how to keep him in line. He doesn't touch the journal. Her thoughts interest him more.
"Want to tell me what really went on with Dark Ace?" Even with her head buried into the pillow, he hears a long-suffering sigh.
"Nothing. I don't think he's going to help us. I even pulled out the Cyclonian medallion and everything, told him Lark was still alive – but I don't think he'll take my offer."
"Aw, you're being too hard on yourself. Besides, you haven't even asked yet."
"No, Finn. I really mean it. He won't have anything to do with us. He just sat there, a grumpy middle-aged man, and stared at me like he could see through my lies. What makes you so sure that he'll help us find Aerrow?" Somewhere along their conversation, Piper changes her position, turning from her side onto her stomach and hugs the pillow with both her arms. Finn lies down on the bed beside her, and tucks his hands behind his head.
If they were younger, their position would have embarrassed the heck out of them both. But years have gone by, and they were more comfortable in their bodies, and in each other. You live with the same individuals for several years and you become familiar with some of their habits. They were both seventeen now and Piper learned long ago that Finn didn't understand the meaning of personal space very well.
She wonders how her teammates would react if they knew how chummy she and Finn could be. Junko wouldn't mind, the Wallop loved giving hugs anyway. Stork and Lynn would have heart attacks. Aerrow? Well, let's just say that the three of them didn't mind falling asleep in each other's laps, exhausted from picking their brains with military strategies and crystal enhancers. Those were back in the days of the war.
"For the record, Piper, you're not lying to him. We are. All of us."
"I just wish I don't have to be the one to tell him she's been alive all this time. It's horrible, what happened to Lark. And the Sky Council! They were going to execute him once he got those bandages off – without a proper hearing! Can you believe that? They were never going to give him a second chance."
Finn shrugs. "Hey, they make the rules, not us. We're just the enforcers, and I'm not even your sky knight, I'm just filling the role until we get Aerrow and Radarr back."
"Aerrow would never agree to this."
"Yeah, but Aerrow wasn't there to voice his opinion." The blonde sighs. Normally, he didn't give this much thought to politics, choosing to take the lighter side of life and follow directions, but there were some things even he couldn't ignore.
"A lot of people still think Ravess and Snipe should have been executed too. But their family's influential, and they have the money to work out a deal. Dark Ace has no one and Master Cyclonis's gone crazy. You're his best chance, Piper. You're the girl suited for the job. No offense or anything, but if Junko, Stork, or anyone else tried to talk to that guy, he'd probably gut us with a scalpel on sight." The blonde frowned. "Well, if he could see anyway."
"Finn."
"Don't get mad, I'm just telling it like it is. You're a girl, you like crystals – he'll talk to you." A long, deep breath indicates the end of his speech. Piper wiggles a bit and blinks in the darkness. It's nice to stay like this, to have a friend like Finn.
"That wasn't very inspiring you know."
"Hey, I'm not Aerrow."
"I know." The mood in the bedroom becomes more somber. Deciding it was time to end this little heart-to-heart chat, Finn uses his elbows to prop himself into a sitting position.
"Are you gonna sleep all afternoon? We were thinking of taking Lynn for a picnic and maybe take a dunk in the lake. Wanna come?"
"No, thanks. I'll stay behind and update the log book." Poking her in the shoulder persistently, she slaps his hand away and starts to giggle when Finn's fingers tickle her ribs. Drat. He's always like this, annoying one hour then cheering her up the next. A familiar thought flits through Piper's mind: was Finn always this reflective or was it a side effect from hanging around with Junko?
"Hey now. You can't be moody all the time. That's Stork's job." He winks at her roguishly and stands up, brushing the imaginary dust off his pants. "Anyways, I wanna see you in your new bathing suit." He grins when she rolls of the eyes.
"You're a pervert, Finn."
"Yeah, I know. But you still love me." The door creaks when he opens it.
"You want the lights on or off?"
"Off, please."
He leaves.
The clock reads 4:46 pm. Piper stays in bed and thinks.
There are a lot of things on her mind, and peace time did not guarantee the freedom she once yearned for. For example, during the war, she would dream of a peaceful Atmos and spend whole afternoons dedicated to her crystals instead of worrying about their next mission. She might have left the Condor.
But when the war ended and Master Cyclonis went down in a way nobody expected, the Sky Council seized control of Cyclonia and launched the remaining squadrons into the area for capturing. Everyone was so busy Piper hardly even looked at her lab anymore.
Things have settled down a little bit now. The Storm Hawks haven't been assigned to the Wastelands for several months now. Before Aerrow and Radarr disappeared, the sky knight believed the reprieve was the Council's way of thanking them for their war effort.
In the dark, Piper is feeling particularly nostalgic. Opening the door just a bit, she listens closely to the sound of her teammates and hears nothing. They must be on that picnic now and enjoying the sunshine – except Stork. He might still be on board. Padding softly in the hall, she makes her way to the main deck and is pleasantly surprised to find the pilot seat empty.
Selecting a thick beige volume from one of the shelves, she returns to her room with the ship's log book – volume seven. Piper removes her boots and places the log book as well as her brown notebook onto the bed. Snuggling between the sheets, she picks up the first journal and flips through the pages and waves of memories wash over her, bathing her senses of days past.
Piper is the keeper of the Condor's log books; she has been doing this for years. At first, she did it because no one else wanted to and mostly because Finn argued that she had the best handwriting out of all of them. She wrote down the details of their missions, how much gas they have saved, how many crates of unrefined crystals are in their stock, and how her teammates are getting along with each other. Over the months, she filled one book after another, all with different textures and colours. Most of the time her hand held the pen, sometimes it's someone else.
Pressed between the sheets are photographs of old friends and torn scraps of memorabilia – reminders of the squadron's adventures.
For some unexplainable reason, she keeps an old candybar wrapper in there. It's Junko's, she can tell by the faint chocolate smell on the golden aluminum foil, and the traces of cashews imprinted on the paper. She just found it one day, and the whiff of cocoa reminds her of home.
There is an imprint of a key on a thin clay block that belongs to Finn. Well, not quite. It's an exact replica of Burner's keys to his private locker, the hidden stash where he keeps all his precious oils and wax for his customized air skimmer. Finn swiped a copy after losing several bets to him during their time on Terra Saharr. Burner doesn't know about it.
Stork's contribution comes in the form of small triangular scraps taped into the journal. Upon first glance, they look like recipes consisting entirely of herbs and leaf stew, but she knows they are secret antidotes to strange diseases and illnesses that he is constantly wary of. Piper smiles widely, her nail runs across the slanted print as she reads instructions on how to detect if one suffers from an early onset of elbow leeches.
There is something from everyone in that book, even Radarr. To Piper's amusement, there are several pages dedicated to him, all covered in his paw prints. This was right after Aerrow and Radarr's adventures on Terra Zartacla. She remembers they were standing at the time, the redhead's hands flat against the table as he looked over her shoulders, making sure her words were correct. She was almost finished with the story when Radarr, covered in grease, fruit pulp, and god knows what else, decided to hop onto their heads and scared the daylights out of her. Furious at her spoiled work, she refused to speak to them for the rest of the afternoon.
The log book is more than just a journal now. It's the heart of the Storm Hawks.
She remembers when Junko flipped through the pages, holding a bottle of juice in one hand, and applauded Piper for her perseverance. He could never do something like this; it takes a lot of dedication to get everything down. In conclusion: Piper's awesome!
The girl's cheeks turn beet red at the memory. The Wallop is one of the sweetest individuals she's met.
Closing the volume, Piper places it gently on the floor of her room and opens her notebook. Like the previous journal, this one isn't the first of her diaries but her fifth. Her entries are personal, these are her memories and the guys all know about the book's existence but don't look in it. She scribbles in it, sketches in it, and hides little secrets between the pages so thin that you would have to blow on the edges of the paper to let it out.
Most of them are her thoughts. She talks a lot about crystals, how frustrated she is that she can't get a Floater to harmonize with a Froster, and ends up freezing her desk in the process. On occasion she likes to copy phrases from books she's read, and her pile of quotes continues to grow. Some of them are from Aerrow.
There are lengthy descriptions of various crystals, spontaneous mathematical calculations for the Condor's navigation, and pencil sketches of her teammates, mostly in profile.
There are two things she loves the most.
One is a bundle of letters, tied together with twine, evidence of Piper's past correspondence with a girl named Lark. Slender fingers remove the elastic from the journal and the stack of letters fall onto her lap. She sets it aside, bitter feelings start to encroach on her heart and since her visit to Dark Ace, and the girl is not in a mood to further reminisce about Cyclonians this sunny afternoon.
The second thing is a drawing of Starling, sketched during a surprise visit from her favourite sky knight.
The Interceptor was standing at the helm beside Stork, holding her elbows close to her body, and Piper was sitting on the couch, working through a particular problem with the Condor's fuel economy. It seemed Finn was sneaking midnight rides on his skimmer again. She had an inkling why and had half a mind to confront him about it, but not alone. This was a problem that concerned the rest of the team.
"Piper." Starling called out to her without looking back. The girl jumped in her seat and squeaked from the thrill of being addressed by her first name.
"What is it, Starling?"
"Stork tells me that you draw. Is it true?"
She blushed. "I can draw a little."
"Can I ask you a favor? Can you draw me?"
"Sure."
Piper stood up and started to fuss about her first art commission. Where would Starling sit? Did she even want to sit? What about the lighting - was it too bright on the deck or did she want to go somewhere a little bit darker? How about her pose? Piper didn't know a lot about position and she usually drew whatever came to mind. Sketching inanimate objects was more of her strength, and drawing people made her nervous.
What if the sky knight didn't like it? What if her drawing skills were completely exaggerated?
"Piper, I would like to you to draw just the way I am. Standing up like this, if you please."
A little frazzled, Piper nodded and excused herself to retrieve her drawing materials from her bedroom. Starling shook her head.
"No need to make it official. I'm just as happy if you drew on a piece of loose leaf paper and you gave me a copy afterwards." After several chuckles of reassurance from the sky knight, Piper settled on sketching in her notebook. Secretly, she was delighted with the prospect. Touching the tip of the pencil with her finger, she flipped to a new page and looked up at the Interceptor.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
Minutes ticked by and all Starling could hear was the drone of the Condor, the tick of the clocks, Stork's breathing, and the scratch of Piper's pencil. Out of the corner of her eye, the woman caught the Merb's gaze and they both looked over their shoulders at the young artist. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration and they could clearly see the bubble of intensity around her.
Every line had to be perfect. Every dot on the page had to convey the secret and the mystery that was Starling. Piper chewed at her bottom lip and hesitated marking a line that strengthened her subject's jaw. She didn't have that strong of a chin, did she? No, her hair was more important. And the eyes. Always the eyes.
A smile tugged at the edge of Starling's lips, and she winked at the pilot in secret. He chuckled silently.
When the sketch was finished Stork came over to check on the drawing before Starling did. Piper sat on the couch, her hands clasped in her lap as she fretted over the quality of her work. She tried her best, she really did. Did she still want the copy? She'd make it better of course, and add a little watercolour to it.
"It's really good. Thank you, Piper."
Her heart never fluttered so fast before. That night, she stayed up much later to create another copy of Starling's portrait. More confident this time, her soft B pencil touched up the dark shadows hidden in the sky knight's eyes before setting it aside and preparing her paints.
It was a happy memory.
In her room, she flips on the desk lamp, adjusts the brightness, and turns the head so the light falls upon the edge of her bed. She squints and flips through her notebook, exquisitely careful that her fingers do not accidentally smudge the lines of her sketches, and replaces the thin sheet of tracing paper over the page.
Three weeks later the Storm Hawks received word of Starling's death. Piper remembers that moment too, and her heart still hurts when she remembers how lonely the Interceptor must have been after losing her squadron and living undercover as a Cyclonian after so many years. It's hurting now.
Readjusting the blankets around her, she holds open the page with Starling's sketch with her thumb and forefinger, recalling the dark shade of her eyes. The strokes around her lips curved upwards a little. The Interceptor wore a smile that day.
Piper wonders why.
Starling.
She died before the war ended. Suzy-Lu and the Absolute Zeros were with her at the time; her squadron's past experience with the Raptors came in handy when the Interceptor finally confronted Repton. The Blizarrians said she fought fiercely, that she fought to kill. It wasn't just about justice anymore; it was about avenging her fallen comrades. It was the Raptors who murdered her squadron, and it was Repton who delivered the killing blow.
The woman severed Repton's right hand during battle. He busted her left kneecap in return. Locked in a deadly grip, they fell from their rides and fell into the Wastelands below. The Sky Council called it an unfortunate loss – a hero's death.
Aerrow called it suicide.
Sighing, the girl closes her eyes and takes a moment to calm herself. She recalls receiving the telegraph from the Council, and the unexpected visit from Suzy-Lu and Harrier. The latter was there because he knew about Starling's mission, and she had been staying on Terra Rex for the past several months in preparation. Besides, the Interceptor was one of their own, it was only proper to hold her funeral at the land of her birth.
Piper closes the notebook and shuts her eyes. Rolling her shoulders back, she gets up from the bed and flips the light switch. She leaves the journals exactly where they are, skips past the desk and pulls open the second drawer of her dresser. After some rummaging, she takes out a towel and her new bathing suit.
It's time to go outside.
"Hey look! I found something." The Wallop's voice catches everyone's attention and they all waddle their way over grass and sand and Junko waves the white object over his head. Piper gently pulls his arm down and inspects the fragile, circular shell.
"It's a sand dollar."
"A wha-?" To Lynn's amusement and nobody's surprise, Piper explains.
"A sand dollar. But this one's dead, what Junko's holding is just the shell. They're marine creatures that live in water, usually hidden under muddy or sandy areas like a beach. You see the marks here on the flat underside? That's where the spines are located; they can dig further into the banks or crawl around slowly. All sand dollars start out as free-floating larvae and a skeleton begins to form – that's what you're holding in your hand Junko."
Stork shudders at the mention of the word 'larvae.' Bugs, nature, water, dirt. They were all hazards to life, such as it was, the Merb never ventured into open water without thick, rubber fins on both of his feet. Too easy to cut your soles on the slippery rocks.
"Germs."
"Well, I think they're pretty neat."
"Thank you, Lynn."
Junko gives the sand dollar to Lynn and the girl tosses it onto her towel so she wouldn't forget. They play a game of Frisbee afterwards on the lush grass, everyone except Stork, and the game ends suddenly when Junko throws the plastic disc a little too hard and it lands within the top branches of a poplar tree.
"Hey, no problem. I'll get it!" Piper rolls her eyes, secretly crosses her fingers, and watches with the rest as Finn jumps onto the trunk and hauls himself over the nearest branch. Anticipating the future, the Merb raises a single finger in silence and stalks off towards the Condor to retrieve the first aid kit.
Several bruises, a twisted ankle, and a saved Frisbee later, Junko gives the team a group hug and his huge, Wallop muscles threaten to squeeze them to death.
With the Condor as their backdrop, Stork sets up the tripod and sets the timer for the camera to ten seconds. When he presses the button in his hand and eerily whispers 'ready' everyone scrambles to get into position, their faces grinning like mad while the pilot squeezes behind the navigator and the new girl, his face a melancholy melody, and blinks just when the flash goes off. Bright lights hurt his sensitive eyes.
Piper laughs when Lynn does a very accurate impression of Finn falling from the tree, and even gives the injured guy a hug when he starts to sulk and claims nobody appreciates his tree-climbing skills, sticking out his lower lip in an adorable pout. He tries to get Piper to kiss him to make the boo-boo all better and loudly accuses her of murder when she gets all flustered and playfully punches him in the arm, the idiot.
The sky is darkening as the evening clouds roll in and gradually block out the sun, and the Storm Hawks gather their towels and sandals and head back towards the Condor. Piper hangs back a little and watches her little family head home.
Finn. Junko. Stork. Lynn. Radarr. Aerrow.
They are all part of her family, they are her siblings. They are her teammates and her friends all rolled up into a sushi roll of love.
And Starling. She's part of the family too – the older sister, even if she did spend more time alone than with the team.
A genuine smile appears on Piper's face. She doesn't mind when the grey sky turns into storm clouds and the first droplet of rain splashes upon her nose. Clutching her towel closer to her chest, she makes a beeline for the airship and laughs when Stork waves his arms frantically and warns her about the incoming lightning bolts bound to come from the sky.
Piper loves her family, and she would do anything to get them all back.