Back By Morning

by No Holds

Marlene has been called many things. A monster, a great leader, a terrorist, a friend. But something that everyone agreed on was that she always kept her promises. She's always expected the same of others. Elsewhere, the newest firefly is breaking a promise that is the furthest thing from her mind. Run in parallel with Gone By Morning (/s/10154339/1)

6. The Fifth Morning (Chapter 5)

I wake up as the last of the stragglers make their way into camp, talking too-loud, all bravado and wild eyes, wandering in with the sunrise.

By the time the base has settled into a normal rhythm again, it's nearly noon, the nervous babble and disorganized wandering and quiet mourning dying down as adrenaline fades.

Most of the Fireflies made it back safe, but too many didn't- new recruits, all of them- and I can see the empty spaces they leave more then I ever saw them when they were here.

Not making it back safe has become something of a habit for new recruits, as of late.

The girl's duffel bag is still sitting on my bed where I'd thrown it the moment I got back, where I've been ignoring it ever since.

What little I have has been squared away, unpacked and folded neatly back into place.

But one look at Riley's duffel bag and my skin crawled and my hands itched, and I had to get out for a moment.

Was it immature and cowardly? Yes.

But I'm the leader of the Fireflies, and if I want to watch the newest recruits drill instead of throwing out a bag of clothing like I should be, I can damn well watch the newest recruits drill.

I watch them learn to shoot properly, erasing years of doing it wrong, of hard travel and self-taught survival, eyes bunched at the corners, too-stiff, over thinking, eager to please.

Unwanted and unexpected, pride swells in my chest, watching these street rats, lean and hard with the road.

The new recruits were all strays, living months or years on the road, and in shows in their scars, in the way they all wear their hair short, in the way they flinch at loud sounds.

And here they are. Here they are learning that fight-or-flight isn't one sided, they had come to me to fight, these lean-hungry people who have seen enough fighting to last a lifetime joined up- out of duty or desperation or idealism, I don't know- but here they are, all fighting for what I told them to believe in.

Watching them now is a reminder I don't want.

These people are relying on me to be the light they've been looking for, and if I can't even look at a duffel bag I have no place leading them.

I nod to their trainer, a hard man who snaps to attention like a wind-up-toy, and the new Fireflies all flinch or offer sloppy salutes, off-time and out-of-practice, and for the first time in five days I feel this hope.

They are why I'm doing this.

Somewhere around four Pm, I'm in the girl's room, duffel bag in hand, and I make the bed up neat, putting everything back just where it came from, packing clothes into drawers, stuffing the duffel bag back under her bed.

The dinner bell rings, and I stand up, following the crowd to the mess hall, listening to them talk and joke and I know.

For the first time since the girl left, I know why I'm doing this.

I can't give up on the Fireflies.

I won't give up.

Not yet.

Quick author's note- I'm sorry about the delays as of late. My motivation's been at rock bottom, and Marlene's hard for me to write (as I'm sure you can tell by my general sloppiness in this chapter), so I've been putting this off. But I'll get it done! Feel free to kick my ass if I haven't updated in a while.