A/N: Currently, all chapter names are titles from "The Piano" soundtrack. Today, a short chapter for a short song.
Lady with the Lamp
( chapter six: a bed of ferns )
Piper loves Finn – really she does. But on some days he is so annoying she wants to wrap her fingers around his throat and strangle him until he turns black and blue.
"So, what did the nurse teach the nurse?" he chided, looking over her shoulder while she is trying to work out the coordinates for their next trip. Her new patient, the Dark Ace, will be released from Our Lady of Lourdes tomorrow, most likely in the morning. Her goal for today is to send a messenger crystal to the Sky Council defining which two terras he will be permitted to visit. Fortunately for everyone, the piece of floating land the Condor is currently docking on is not included in the deal, leaving extra room for travel.
"Did Nurse What's-Her-Name give you one of those white outfits all the ladies wear?" The blond giggles and tries to imagine Piper wearing a pill hat to match her button-up uniform. To complete the ensemble she is wearing white standard flats. Always a man of appreciation, the sharpshooter strokes his chin and thinks Piper's legs look especially lovely when exposed.
"Finn, you're a pervert."
He laughs; blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "So? Did she –huh? Huh?"
"I'm not a nurse, Finn." Tapping a finger against her lips, the blue-haired woman traces the pencil line marked from the hospital all the way to Terra Edmontonia before deciding to erase it. No, that wasn't a good place for a recovering soldier to reside, not enough mountains and too many plains. The air was open there and the Cyclonian, although blind, might feel anxious about the sudden change from enclosed spaces to wide open ones.
"C'mon Piper. You spend all day at that place while the rest of us just hang around here with nothing to do." To exaggerate his point, he drapes his arms over her shoulders and knocks his forehead against the back of her skull.
"Finn! I almost crossed out Terra Lyn because of your carelessness!" Sighing, she tilts her head back and glares at her teammate upside-down. Holding one hand up to prevent personal physical injury, the person in question takes a step backwards but not before snagging her orange headband and tossing it up into the air. Piper screws her eyes shut and wishes – desperately wishes – the boy would grow up a little.
"That's not funny. Give it back." She is no mood for his antics today. The sooner she gets her work done here, the sooner the Sky Council can receive her Messenger Crystal and tomorrow Stork can take this metal bird flying again. Being grounded for so long is starting to affect the blond's head, she decides, he's too restless to keep both feet on the earth.
"You gotta lighten up, Miss Nurse."
Piper rolls her eyes and makes a point to correct him about her 'name.' It isn't Nurse, or Nurse Piper, and it certainly isn't Miss Piper – that moniker will never have a chance with her. Everyone, including her best friends, should simply address her by her first name.
At that moment another Storm Hawk decides to make her presence. Grinning casually, Lynn goes up to Finn and elbows him in the ribs. Formerly in the galley munching on a snack before Junko raids the fridge entirely, she heard voices coming from the cockpit and recognizes the other girl's high-pitched screams of frustration.
"So, who's calling my name?"
"No one," the navigator mumbles and stares helplessly at the two troublemakers when Finn passes her favourite orange headband to the younger girl who then twirls it around her finger. Digging her nails into her scalp, her blue hair is already getting out of hand as her bangs fall over her eyes and tickle her ears.
To her dismay, Lynn leaves Finn's side to stand in front of her. Running her small hands through the older girl's hair, she pushes back the wayward bangs and smiles worriedly.
"Hey, you've been pretty stressed lately." That much is true. Between learning how to care for a patient, dealing with a former enemy and trying not to get caught up in the red tape, the First Officer's senses are working on overdrive when everything starts crashing down tomorrow.
Which two terras to choose? For the first week or so, the Dark Ace has to check-in with a physician regarding his eyes. That part isn't so bad to plan. But after that week the real search for Aerrow begins. And don't forget Lark. The Storm Hawks made a promise to visit her often, to help her get better so she can leave the mental health facility and start a new life – hopefully with a reformed Dark Ace.
With so many problems in her head in addition to everyday headaches named Finn, Piper feels as if she has reached her limit when the journey has just begun.
"Hey," someone calls out to her and places a hand on her shoulder when she buries her flushed face between her palms. "Go to your bunk and get some rest. We'll handle the navigation from here, Piper." The blue-haired girl stares at Lynn in confusion.
"What?" The petite teenager cocks her head to the side and strikes a post. "Just because you taught me how to navigate doesn't mean you get a break? I can do the job just as well as you, and don't even think just because you're the nurse makes you better than the rest of us. The Sky Council handed over guardianship to the Storm Hawks, not you. So – get some sleep and we'll figure out what to do."
In her bunk, Piper sleeps and dreams of a home she left a long time ago. A small house surrounded by a square patch of garden. White stucco walls that looked pink in the sunrise and two windows that faced east. She knows this place that once belonged to her mother's sister, a childhood home for several years before they packed their bags and moved once more. They were always moving back then.
There are good memories embedded in those walls, music and laughing and dancing to fill her curious heart where there are no parents to block in the void. She remembers making wind chimes out of pieces of coloured glass and hanging them out of her window to catch the sunlight, marveling in the way the beams shot through the fragments and lit up her room with the brilliant hues of the rainbow.
Piper's hand reaches towards her throat and fingers the missing necklace.
During his last night at the hospital a man lies awake. His duffel bag is on the floor next to the guest chair. The zipper is closed but there is nothing inside, all his clothes and belonging are still tucked away within the bedside dresser or in storage.
He is glad to leave this place and yet he is afraid to go outside. In here, he can mope and whine and complain all he wants, ready to drag anyone into his personal bubble of angry hell over the loss of his mistress and eyesight. But then she came and turned everything around.
Seventy-three percent of his being is grateful towards her and her team's incessant meddling into his affairs, thankful he is no longer slated for execution but on a different sort of parole with the Storm Hawks as his guardians and the girl Piper as his caretaker. He is right to assume she is the most responsible judging from her position as his rival's First Officer and resident Crystal Specialist. Those kids give him another opportunity – another purpose in this new life.
But he is still unsure whether he wants it.
Patting the skin around his eyes, the Talon frowns when his finger pads come in contact with the raised ridges on his face and he makes a promise to commit the scars to memory. The man has an excellent mental archive – this ability is incredibly helpful in his profession when dealing with Sky Knights and Talons, allowing him to imitate battle moves and sky formations with a bit of practice and use those same techniques borrowed from one rival squadron leader to another.
In the morning he doesn't have to see Piper to know she is exhausted. The girl drags her feet and tries to stifle multiple yawns with the back of her hand, causing her to halt suddenly in the middle of her sentences when she pulls back his curtains and tells him it's time to go.
"Good morning," he says. She yawns yet again.
"Mornin'." He hears her reach down for the duffel bag and the small squeak of surprise to find it so light. Laying it down on the mattress, slender fingers pull the zipper and Piper lets out a heavy sigh of discontent once she confirms it is empty. The Cyclonian can feel her orange eyes pierce him thoroughly.
"Long night?"
The tone of her voice is low and unhappy. He must be on her bad side; perhaps she woke up this morning on her bad side. "Why didn't you pack your things last night?"
"I thought you would do it for me."
She lets out a sound similar to that of a disgruntled lioness and ushers him off the bed so she can get to work. Piper doesn't expect Abigail to be here this morning since the older woman is buried under a cabinet full of last minute office work, but hopefully they will see her several times this coming week during the man's checkups.
The patient slides off the bed dressed in dark greens and sits down in the chair. Asking him what he's doing, he points in the direction of the dresser as if to indicate the task of packing his belonging is all hers. After all, he is a blind man getting used lack of bandages across his closed eyes and it's not as if he can sign any release papers now, can he? To her chagrin he takes a hand towel and covers his face with it; a sign of disrespect towards her as well as a blatant tactic to cover his scarred face. His new caretaker snorts – he silently tacks on the label 'incredibly cranky' in his mind and images taping it to her back.
Dark Ace snorts.
"What's so funny?" First, she makes his bed. The sounds of his toiletry bag as she handles it roughly echoes in his perfect ears. Carelessly she tosses it to the side and rubs her eyes to push back the nagging urge to take a nap. Next, she takes out all his shirts, socks, and pants from the drawers and lays it out on the sheets with little regard. Her mouth emits small bursts of feminine mumbles as a pair of jogging pants keeps sliding off silk pajamas, and she holds her breath when she finally reaches his drawers. Piper really doesn't want to touch those.
The irritation only grows as the silence continues.
Without warning, Piper starts swearing a little louder than she ought to. She chews on her bottom lip as the small folded piles of clothes slip and slide all over the place. He is no longer leaning back in the chair in amusement but leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees with the hand towel dangling from his fingers.
"I can do those." He says at long last, expecting a sigh of relief from the girl but receives an angry snort instead.
Well, good for him. He's finally getting off his lazy bum to help her with his belongings. Stepping to the side, she forgoes the chair he previously sat in; the temptation to rest and close her eyes is not in her favour, and rolls up his socks as the Talon empties the last of his possessions in the dresser. Asking if he has any other material property in the hospital, he shakes his head and says everything else of major importance such as his sword and Switchblade is in the hands of the Sky Council. Piper nods in understanding and keeps her face down to avoid face-to-face contact.
"So, what's the plan?" He hands her the thickest of his sweaters to place in the bottom of the bag, closely followed by his pants. She follows his lead without question; her aura less tense with one less trouble on her mind, and in the privacy of his soon-to-be-empty hospital bed, Piper discloses a small segment of her grand scheme in progress.
"Since you're only allowed to visit two terras at any one time, we've already decided one of them." He raises a thick, black eyebrow and tilts his head to the side when she doesn't reveal any more on the subject. "Stork and I decided for the first week we'd have to stay on the terra for your check-ups but after that we're going to make a visit."
"And the other terra?"
The Storm Hawk lifts her head and gives him a little smile. "It's still in progress."
Leaving the hospital is a mundane affair. Sign the papers waiting for them at the front desk, have Piper place a pen in your hand while she guides your fingers to the place where X marks the spot – nod at the unfamiliar secretaries as they stare at the fresh bandages over your eyes. Yes, you're wearing bandages again because you hate their pity and their disdain and the unspoken judgments in their minds. But you don't have to worry about them; they've been all paid off by the Sky Council not to say a word about the black-haired man leaving with a young lady half his age, and you have no doubt that part of that money came out of your pockets.
You wonder how little sleep she gets when she leads you towards her Heliscooter. Yawns again. As she lets out an inaudible sigh and rubs her eyes for what must be the umpteenth time during the past forty-five minutes, you wonder if it is safe to ride the skies with such a sleepy pilot. Flying vehicles are toys for adults and she is sighing far too much for it to be a coincidence.
You wonder what time it is.
"Okay," Piper says and brings the back of her hand to her mouth, "I've got your bag secured in the back and I radioed the Condor so they know we're going to be there soon." The girl hesitates and you know she wished Abigail was at the front door to bade her farewell with a few parting words of good luck.
Good luck is the first thing on your mind when you settle down on the seat and wrap your arms around her to avoid falling off.
She keeps postponing the flight. First she checks the speedometer, the gas gauge, then pats her clothes to make sure there is nothing foreign on her person. Did she lose a key hidden away in her pockets? Your hands are starting to go numb just staying still – hovering one centimeter above her waist. You won't touch her unless you're finally in the air.
Unexpectedly, she whips her head around to make sure you're behind her. Remembering the dark hues of her midnight blue hair, you spit out a few strands of hair in your mouth and make a face.
"Is the bandage too tight?"
You roll your eyes. No, it is not too tight but thanks for putting one on anyway. It's not necessary since the wounds are healed and I'm becoming familiar without something covering the top half of my face, but I can't stand people looking at me without fear.
And that includes you.
Pudgy-aunt figure must have taught you well, you were able to wrap the gauze around my eyes without much fuss but far too many sighs, and you were quick about it. Aside from aerial fighting and getting myself almost killed, I'm excellent at mathematics. Silently I counted all the way up to two hundred and twenty eight from the moment you started fixing me up. Most nurses I know take up to three hundred and one. In theory, they should be quicker from all the experience but I personally believe it's my nationality that makes them falter.
Maybe I'm the first Talon to walk in and out of those doors. I don't care to ask.
I'm just glad to get out of there.
This is my second time riding with her. She must be keeping count. Finally, with a few soundless prayers of my own, Piper starts the engine and we take to the air. The Heliscooter is louder than my Switchblade and if I continue to ride with her in the future I'm going to have to acquaint myself with the constant movement over my head. If I could see I wouldn't be so worried, but since I'm blind I wonder how much space there is between the top of my head and the rotating blades. I am a tall guy after all.
How short are you, Piper?
This is crazy, talking to myself inside my head like this, exactly like a madman. But it keeps me sane in a roundabout kind of way, with no fellow Talons or Cyclonians to converse with, all I have is myself. Something in this girl's tone of voice tells me I should be prepared to meet my mistress again. Not Lark, but Master Cyclonis. I wonder how she is and if she's grateful for breaking her crystal necklace. It was a beautiful work of art, a dark violet colour that matched the shade of her cunning eyes, a silver collar embedded with jewels and engraved with ancient runes similar to old texts found on Terra Xoam.
Hands around her waist, the second ride makes your stomach lurch and tumble with the sloppy way this girl is flying. Up and down, she jerks her vehicle sharply to the left to avoid something you can see and once or twice you swear you felt raindrops on your cheeks. But this machine is not under your control so you can do nothing about it.
Her body is surprisingly soft and now you think a washboard stomach is impossible as you test the boundaries with your fingers. You are holding on to her, after all. She smells like the Condor, like dirt and tiredness and worry. You haven't had a bath this morning either, thinking there wasn't enough time between the girl's arrival and your departure, not that you wanted one anyway. Unlike the gauze wrapping, the idea of a young woman touching your bare back is unsettling; especially when it's this young woman you had in mind.
You remember her face; her dark skin and blue hair. The way she always hung around Aerrow whenever the two of you met in battle, the way Master Cyclonis's eyes widened whenever you mentioned her name. It felt as if a lance had been thrown at you when you discovered the two women were corresponding with each other through letters over the months instead of Messenger Crystals. Paper and pen were archaic in a world becoming increasingly dependant on crystals, but it was a safer and more discreet method of communication. Crystals are sparkly and catch your eye whereas a single envelope snuck inside someone's pocket can pass by unnoticed by crystal detectors.
As you hear the girl exclaim "There's the Condor!"into your sensitive ears, the bottom of your stomach drops out and falls below. Once you called this airship home. Over the years, you've seen it from the outside – the new paint job, the rust on her underside. And now, more than a decade since you left, you're coming back again. You can almost hear them, the voices of your old squadron as they pat you on the back and congratulate you on your new position as co-pilot.
Only this time you won't be able to see her.
And as Piper pulls into the hangar bay and you detach your fingers from her anorexic waist, you have to wonder which crew member now sleeps in your old bed.