Episode 7 "Deuce". Or for those who don't remember numbers and titles: The airplane episode. Twelve's POV.

Enjoy~

The last thing they needed in their life was Five. All the distance they had built between them and the past, all the work they had been doing for a better future, all of that was suddenly on the edge of worthlessness. Because everything about Five was connected to the institute, as if her whole life was just a lengthening of it. Every move she made revolved around it, and even worse, around Nine. Her obsession was clear as daylight. Emotions were unknown to her, nor did she wish to experience them. And Twelve couldn't understand that. She defiantly held onto that insanity. To her, the most important thing in the world was to ruin not just her life, but theirs as well.

He glanced at Lisa, at her neatly combed hair that he remembered smelled like cherry blossom. A day or two ago he had bought her the orange top she now wore, because she had been running out of clothes. Admittedly, his fashion tastes weren't of outstanding quality, but he had yet to come across an outfit in which she didn't look beautiful. Maybe he would soon convince Nine to go shopping. Such trivial matters to think about, he knew. And yet he thought about them, as if pretending they were the most important matters would eventually make them so.

Lisa was no opponent for Five, but he smiled a little wider at the thought. Her humanity and weakness were just what made her the perfect addition to their team. The complete opposite of Five. She could finally become a real Sphinx member.

But Nine was panicking. Twelve realised how badly Nine was doing when the latter showed Lisa the aftermath of the train bombing, in an attempt to shoo her away. Of course, it was the truth and it was rather unappealing, but this move was in vain. Lisa had been there at their very first bombing and had accepted becoming an accomplice. Moreover, she had never truly seen them as terrorists. He recalled her saying very clearly that she wasn't afraid of them, and he held onto those words with religious devotion.

Her fiddling fingers curled into fists. "I want to become a part of your team."

He didn't give away his excitement as well as his concern for her engagement. First Five's attack, now Lisa's involvement. The second major change to their course in one day. The important things in life depended on fractions of seconds after all, didn't they?

Whilst travelling plans were already being made, Twelve turned his head to the opened window. The sky was filled with a bright and spotless blue. A hot breeze stroked his cheeks. All noises in the room merged into a fog.

Falling was a downward motion caused by an instability. When he had to describe those feathers, he would always say they were doing that, even though they were not going down and not instable. If he stood there and just gazed at them for long enough, he started believing that he was the one falling. Slowly and serenely. As if he had been falling all along. Yesterday too, he had seen them. They rose from an endless source, reflecting the sharp sunlight on their softness. And as peaceful and harmless as they seemed, he could feel them running over his back coldly. They filled up his body, made it thin and weak.

White feathers had never been a good sign.

Now was not the time for omens or hallucinations however, he thought, ignoring the ominousness settling down on his thoughts like a growing layer of dust. But things like that were easily said, weren't they? Perhaps he wasn't really within himself. Like a ghost, he lingered around his own body, where feathers had taken his place. He watched himself turn to Lisa. He listened to the words that rolled casually over his lips as he explained to her what she would be expected to do. Upon hearing the plan the colours were stripped off her face, and his invisible fingertips sunk into her pale complexion. Her hands shook, and when he tried to steady them their sweaty coldness tugged at him, gently trying to pull him back into himself. He told her it would be fine and watched his words fade into cool blues, swept away by feathers he tried not to see.

A chessboard appeared on the screens in the airport. All Twelve could think of was Five. That little child with dim eyes that sat with her knees pulled up. He remembered how she had once given him the impression that she shut down her body except for her brains in order to mentally unify with those little pawns and those silly squares of blacks and whites. Admittedly, Nine was scarily good at that as well, but at least Nine was more aware that right now they were playing on an airport with actual people.

They split up.

Twelve couldn't help but grin as he ran. He felt them. He felt the camera's focus catching him, those cold eyes that absorbed his every move. And then he disappeared. He knew the exact position of every one of those mechanical eyes and could tell the exact second they lost him. Their frustration, even though invisible to him at that moment, was without a doubt growing with every second that passed without him in their vision. It added a sprung to his step and cheekiness to his grin. He too, loved playing games.

But blind spots were the easy part. The fun started when the first police officer spotted him. A short chase, because within less than three minutes he passed that same policeman smoothly, dressed in exactly the same uniform. It was hard to keep a straight face when being so amused.

It was time for the third player to enter the game, he thought to himself as he plucked his phone out of his pocket. Nine confirmed that things were going according to plan, but Lisa sounded horribly stressed. The question was not so much whether she was capable of doing it, but whether she wanted to. So he asked, because it was her choice still. A choice that could possibly make her an actual accomplice to something rather ugly. The silence that ensued did not concern him because he knew her answer. But he didn't know why he held his breath.

"I'm alright," She finally said, "I'll do my best."

He wanted to tell her she was truly a lot stronger than she had ever allowed herself to believe, but the game was rolling. Sentiments were edgy when lives were at risk. Though he parted his lips, sticky words on his tongue, and impatiently tapped the back of the phone he held to his ear. He wanted to tell her something encouraging, or even just some advice like "stay calm" or "don't think too much about it" or "inhale deeply because everything hurts more when you hold your breath".

But he hung up, closing his mouth and inhaling the silence sharply. Sentiments would be reserved for after their victory. He promised himself he would just say all of that next time they spoke, after winning the game. He put his phone away and shivered unwillingly. He slipped into a dark room with plenty of cables and smirked. Soon, a certain somebody would learn not to take them lightly.

On his knees in front of the flickering lights and blue cables, he waited motionlessly. His finger was raised in mid-air, almost touching a bright button. Seconds passed in a silence that only added to his excitement. From his arms to his back to his legs, everything about his position was uncomfortable, but he didn't move an inch. He just listened closely. There it was. Faraway. The fire alarm. His finger had tapped the button in merely a split second. Lisa had done it. His heart skipped a beat. If he could have gone to her now he would have hugged on her and cried out in joy. But he sat still and watch the master plan unfold completely.

No bomb. No bomb. No bomb. The words echoed meaninglessly in his head. No bomb. No bomb. No bomb. Where could it be? Why couldn't they find it? The plan had succeeded. They had done everything that had been necessary exactly according to plan. Everything had gone fine. Then why weren't they winning? Nobombnobombnobomb.

Nine came and the two faced the puzzle with exactly the same sickening twist in their gut. Where did they go wrong? What clue had they missed? How could not one but two genies feel so blinded by an enemy they had nearly crushed just moments ago?

His phone buzzed. Lisa. Before answering he already knew that with a slide of his finger the terrifying answer to their problem would be revealed.

"Help me! I can't get out! The plane is moving!" White words. White. White. White. Light as feathers.

"Plane?" He uttered. He couldn't process it. He didn't want to. "Why are you on a plane?"

The light the back of his head made him cringe inwardly. He inhaled deeply, realising he had been holding his breath again. He told her to calm down. They would do something. Anything.

Nine had quickly understood just what was happening. That the airplane in which Lisa was, together with the bomb she had mentioned, was heading towards them, towards the main building, Gate 601. Thousands of people. One bomb. Lisa.

"That bitch." He could practically see that heartless infant in front of him. Hot anguish pumped through his veins. He turned to face the only person who could help him, the person who only he could help. Nine clenched his jaw. This day was going to leave its marks on both of them.

"If we cause a commotion here, the civilians will be evacuated from the airport."

Black words. Twelve thought he hadn't understood them. But he couldn't deceive himself. "What are you saying?" He breathed. That darkness. His mind was truly changing into a chess board of black and white strokes that bored into his chest like long, rusty nails. "What about Lisa?" He clenched his fists again. To beat a monster you did not have to become one yourself. Nine could not become like her. He wouldn't allow for that to happen. He would rather consider punching that idea out of Nine's head. "She's on the plane too, you know!" He spat, fists shaking and a long stinging ache in his ribs.

"Twelve." There was no place for ignorance between them anymore. Nine saw a cry for justice. One that Twelve hadn't ever shown before. But also one that Nine, no matter how painful, couldn't ignore. Because justice was what they were willing to die for. "There is one thing we could do."

Just as Nine finished his first direct conversation with the detective he was so particularly fond of, Twelve stopped behind him with their transportation. A part of him was ceaselessly grateful for Nine's flawless loyalty and support, in which he had switch to a much more dangerous plan that was much more prone to fail. But they were two bodies of one core, and would take on the world for each other.

Telling from the subtle smirk on Nine's lips, the first baby step to their grandiose victory had been made. The detective was working with them. He clung onto this bit of positive news as they drove off. That hint of a smile on Nine's lips burned in his memory, released him from that undeniable little peck of guilt for pushing Nine further to his boundaries. But they couldn't allow Lisa to die. Neither of them could've handled that death.

"Lisa, do you hear me?" He calmly said, "Do exactly as I tell you." While he explained what she had to do, he remembered their previous conversation. The idea of having to wait with tiny sentiments until he could speak face to face with her unsettled him. "It's going to be alright." He said, before he could convince himself again that he should trust the plan to go well. "Calm down." And then: "I'm sure you can do it."

She was there. She really was. Her head appeared through the opening. For a moment he had still wondered whether all of it wasn't a bad joke. But their eyes met and all he wanted to do was reach out for her and bring her to safety. Though, with the shaking vehicle underneath his own feet and its sharp noises, he wasn't sure whether safety was already within reach. The obstacles in their way didn't make it any easier, and when Lisa was thrown out of the plane he thanked the heavens she had tied the blankets so well. They neared her again as she dangled from the plane.

"I can't untie it!" White.

"We don't have time! Hurry up!" Black.

He shouted for her to jump when finally the cloth gave in and she was released from the claws of death. She landed right in his arms and the two of them fell back, crashing into the metal. The force with which they landed made him flinch and more than bruises were made. Without wasting another second they crawled back inside where Nine had carefully divided all his attention between steering and watching the airplane. Quickly all of their eyes were pinned on the giant bomb-holding machine. It was not that far away yet. Actually, it was still really close. Only a split second before the explosion did Twelve notice that it had been moving away from Gate 601 and the detective had indeed succeeded in his part as well.

The fire was gigantic and spewed smoking objects in all directions. After a few minutes in which the whole world seemed to hold its breath, they could finally allow themselves thoughts of a safe return.

Lisa dug her nails into his skin and pressed her face against his chest. She was trembling all over her body. Or was he? He wanted to pat her back and laugh but somehow his hands were wrapped tightly around her and they wouldn't let go. They embraced each other until it strained their already tired muscles, but that ache was hardly strong enough to draw any attention. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, wanting to drown himself in not just her touch but also her scent and her quick breath and most of all her warmth in his arms.

"Twelve," She smiled, "You're pretty good at catching, indeed."

The strings of gold that were interlocked with her words took him by surprise. With her forehead in the crook of his neck she laughed in relief. And like that she set off her very own bomb in his chest. One of butterflies with golden wings that cut sharply between his ribs, and a pain so sweet it was hard to breath between their laughter.

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