Roland worked his thumbs into the arch of Lilith's foot and she gave a small hum of contentment. After the day they'd had, they both collapsed onto the couch together - any thoughts of passion far removed from their minds. Instead, the two had kicked off their boots and Lilith made a convenient foot rest out of his lap. Not that he minded. Rubbing her feet gave him something to do other than reliving the past twelve hours. Not that it did him much good.
Lilith's toes curled with a drawn out stretch as she drawled, "What's on your mind, Big Guy?"
"Everything."
"I meant specifically," she insisted. "I can't help if you won't talk to me."
What wasn't he thinking about? There were so many thoughts crashing around in his head that it was hard to keep them all straight. Their entire lives had changed in a day. They'd lost their safety, they'd lost their home, and they all nearly lost their lives. The fear he'd felt when that bot exploded had been all too real. For a moment, he'd been afraid that he lost her. Lilith's powers made her practically unstoppable, a proverbial goddess of the battlefield. There had seldom been reason to worry about her safety before, but as he struggled to find her through the cloud of dust, he'd never felt so helpless. Now that the Pandora's Box had been opened, he couldn't shake that feeling of dread. And Lilith had lived; others weren't so lucky.
"Just thinkin' about Helena," he admitted. "Don't know what we're gonna to do without her."
"We'll get by," she gave him something of sad smile. "You can get us through this."
Roland wasn't so sure about that. Helena had been a leader; he was just a soldier. Leading his friends in battle was one thing, trying to lead an entire town was something else entirely.
"Don't think I even want the job," he quietly confided. "More people are gonna die before the end of this. You know that, I know that. I'm not sure I want that on my hands."
Lilith considered him silently for a moment before she scooted down the couch and onto his lap. His hands came to rest on her hips as she crossed her hands behind his neck, gently turning him to look into her eyes. "Do you really think these people have a better chance without you?"
She was right. Roland knew they needed someone to lead them and, like it or not, he was the best qualified. "And if I screw up? You heard Angel. Hyperion had no problem with killing everyone in New Haven. We might not be so lucky next time."
"So we all die," she shrugged. "No different than if we don't try. Besides, after Angel's little trick I doubt they'll be dropping in to say hi again any time soon. We have time to get ready."
"She said she won't do it again," Roland reminded her. Angel's reluctance to aid them in battle again could be their undoing. While he couldn't fault her for having a conscience, it wasn't doing them any favors. Sooner or later, she was going to have to realise that morality didn't matter on Pandora.
"Sure, but Hyperion doesn't know that," she smirked before leaning in for a kiss. "Stop worrying about what you can't change. We'll figure out the rest."
"So, what do you think about her?"
Lilith's breathed out a sigh as she slid off his lap and plopped back onto the couch. For a long moment, she stared up at the water stained ceiling as she contemplated an answer. "I dunno," she said at last. "I mean, I don't trust her. She did use us to help Jack with his little schemes. But, look at her, she doesn't exactly look like the evil mastermind type. She just seems like this… this kid in over her head. I kinda feel bad for her."
"And the fact that she's a Siren doesn't mean anything to you?"
"Don't get me started on that one," she huffed. "It's weird. I came here looking for answers, and I thought the Vault would have them, but after all this time I just kinda accepted that it wasn't gonna happen. I mean, Steele wasn't about to sit down for some girl-time, right? So, it's just strange to finally have this catch up with me now. I guess I'm… curious."
"Then go have girl-time with her," Roland grinned and she just laughed.
"Yeah, I don't think she likes me."
I wonder why. "You don't make the best first impressions - unless it's with your fists."
She kicked him playfully before he captured her foot in his hands once more, "Sorry I can't be the stoic professional all the time; that's your job. Besides, I think I'd have a hard time getting her away from her new 'stepfather' anyway."
Roland sucked his teeth, "That's uh… yeah, that's weird. They seem to get along a bit too well considering he killed her dad. It doesn't make sense." He recalled Timothy's attitude towards her and how he often acted more like a partner than a guardian. "There's something between them I can't figure out."
Lilith made a face, "Ew, I hope not."
"Not what I meant," he chided. "But he's very protective of her and I'm curious why."
She arched a brow, "Do you trust him?"
"I think so," he hesitated. "So far, he hasn't given us a reason not to. He did kill Jack and I have a hard time believing he did it for selfish reasons. You don't bite the hand that feeds you." Or chop it off in this case.
"Sure, but he still worked for the guy," she snorted. "I can't imagine him being a saint."
"Neither are we," Roland pointed out. "I guess we'll just have to see."
If she wasn't thrilled about working with Timothy, she'd be even less thrilled to hear about Roland's idea for reinforcements. He'd been planning to tell the others after the funeral, but it couldn't hurt to bounce the idea off Lilith first. Bracing himself for another kick, he decided there was no easy way to break it to her.
"I want to contact The Lance," he spoke directly to her feet and gripped tightly.
Lilith immediately tensed in his hands. "Are we gonna start working with everyone we've fought against 'cause I can get a shovel and start on Knoxx's corpse."
He'd expected resistance, but the sarcasm wasn't helping. "Where else are we going to find an army on Pandora? We don't have the luxury of putting one together from scratch. They have the training and gear we need."
"Yeah, three years ago - and I seem to remember being on the other side of it," Lilith sat up cross-legged and shot him a look of disbelief. "I mean, what makes you think they'll forget the fact that we killed both their commanding officers and marooned them on this planet?"
"Atlas marooned them," Roland corrected. "And that's the point: they're stuck here just like the rest of us. Hyperion's their problem too."
"So what's stopping them from taking Tassiter's offer and getting off-planet?"
"Tassiter's not running a taxi service," he explained. "Especially not a pro-bono one. Something tells me that anyone that takes him up on his offer ain't getting a trip to the Eden Systems. Better the hellhole you know than the one you don't."
It wasn't really uncommon for soldiers to get left behind on the Borderworlds. Interstellar travel wasn't cheap and sometimes it was far easier to replace things than to ship them elsewhere - people included. Dahl may have started the trend on Pandora, but Atlas had continued it and Hyperion probably wouldn't be any different. It was part of the job description when you signed up: go interesting places, kill interesting people, and sometimes get left behind. Luckily for Roland, he'd seen where shit was going before it could happen to him. Not that it stopped him from ending up on Pandora anyway, but at least he'd chosen to be here.
"Okay, let's say we walk into their camp waving a white flag," Lilith twirled a finger in emphasis. "What makes you think we'll get anything other than a bullet to the face?"
"Oh, I didn't say anything about a 'we'."
The look Lilith gave him told him otherwise. "We," she pressed.
"Alright - we," Roland gave in. "We just need to give them a cause to fight for."
"You're such a boyscout," she scoffed. "So what happens: we join hands around the fire and suddenly everyone's friends?"
Roland loved Lilith, but there were some things she just couldn't understand. "Lil', these are soldiers. You give them an enemy, you give them orders, and they'll follow you. It's what they know. Hyperion's already gonna be their enemy regardless; all we need to do is point them in the right direction."
"I still don't think they'll jump at the chance to join the cause of the people that nearly wiped them out," she sighed, but he could tell that she was already considering the idea. And if he could get Lilith to consider it, that meant Brick and Mordecai could be sold pretty easily. After all, what choice did they have?
"Well, war makes for strange bedfellows." He could speak from personal experience; the four of them were a good enough example of that. "Just think it over. We'll talk to the others about it tomorrow."
The door creaked open and a somber looking Brick filled up the doorway. "Crowds gathered 'round back. You guys ready?"
Roland didn't think that burying a friend was something he could ever be ready for, but he'd do it all the same. The crowd would expect him to say something poignant. Something comforting and hopeful. The reality: he didn't know what he was doing any more than they did.
The last rays of sunshine slipped slowly below the horizon as the townspeople dispersed from Helena's grave. The ceremony had been one of few words, but then so was Helena. A simple slab of rough stone overlooking the ravine served as her headstone. It would have been better to bury her in the town she had helped make, but somehow Angel didn't think she would've minded. After all, Helena had been nothing if not pragmatic.
The crowd had long since thinned out and only she, Timothy, and the Vault Hunters remained. Despite burying a friend, Angel didn't get the impression that they were particularly affected by it. The atmosphere was subdued, yet warm. No tears were shed, nor sadness apparent. Instead, Mordecai took a long pull from a bottle before pouring out the remainder over the freshly dug earth.
"She always did enjoy a strong drink," he chuckled. "My kinda girl."
"Her idea of alcohol abuse was watering it down," Lilith snorted.
"Yeah, she always could drink me under the table," Roland agreed.
"Anyone can drink you under the table," Brick corrected, and the group's soft laughter carried on the twilight's warm breeze.
Angel found it hard to believe that they could make jokes at a time like this. Not that she was expecting them to break down and sob over it, but something about the scene just felt… wrong. Of course, everything felt wrong right now. Angel had single-handedly murdered a small army, and Hyperion's real estate war was threatening to turn the planet into a bloodbath. New Haven was just the beginning.
But as Angel watched the Vault Hunters reminisce over Helena's grave, she remembered the final words of Roland's eulogy. Say not in grief: she is no more, but live in thankfulness that she was. A quote from somewhere Angel assumed, but still well chosen. She wondered over their meaning and couldn't imagine becoming so numb to death that she wouldn't grieve a loss. Then again, the Vault Hunters dealt in death with a regularity she found frightening.
Angel wondered if she would be the same before long and hoped that wouldn't be the case.
"Let's get some sleep," Angel nudged Timothy to follow and he fell into step at her side.
They made their way through the square towards one of the less dilapidated looking buildings in town. They'd officially been upgraded to sleeping in the same building as the Vault Hunters themselves, though whether this was for their achievements or because of trust issues it was hard to say. Of course, it could also just be an issue of space. With so many new people in town and space at a premium, they had been forced to start doubling up their rooms. She and Timothy hadn't put up a fight; they'd practically been sharing rooms for the whole journey anyway.
Angel swung open the door to their room and switched on a small, flickering light. The scene was exactly as she'd come to expect: a couple of cots that had seen nicer days, and the closest thing they had to running water was a lime encrusted sink with a cracked mirror hanging above. Of course, there was the ever present customary open toilet - sans seat. Angel suppressed a shudder as Timothy closed the door behind them.
"Swanky," Timothy observed before walking over to the closest cot and collapsing into it. "Oh how I've missed thee…"
Angel wanted to follow suit, but knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep with the gritty feeling that covered her body. Water was another one of those things at a premium right now and so a full shower was out of the question. The more time she spent on Pandora, the more she was starting to realise that being truly clean was a luxury she would seldom get. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the next best thing.
Angel digistructed her duffle bag into existence at the foot of her cot and lament for the upteenth time that Timothy had never bothered to fold anything during their escape on Helios. Given the circumstances, she couldn't really blame him. Still, her supply of clean clothing was beginning to dwindle - though it wasn't like Pandora lacked for washing machines. Of course, how many of those actually worked was up for debate. Putting off that problem for later, she dug out the remnants of the shirt she had used to bandage her arms and decided that she'd have to make do.
Apprehensively approaching the sink, Angel turned the knob and hoped for the best. The pipes gave a groan in complaint, but eventually clear water rumbled out. And now for the awkward part.
"Hey, um… could you just um…" Angel tried to find the right words but he seemed to understand her meaning.
"Yes - right! I'll just - the wall," he said before swiveling on his cot to face the other way.
Angel mumbled a thanks before stripping out of the sweaty, blood encrusted wreck that was her shirt. Tossing it over to her duffle bag, she decided to keep on her bra. It wasn't that she didn't trust Timothy; it was more for her own comfort than anything else. Peeling off the soiled bandages she'd been wearing on her arms since the crash, she was relieved to find that only light scabing remained. Her torso was another matter. The dark purpling of her bruises had faded to a sickly yellow that made her wince, but at least they didn't hurt anymore. Substituting the ripped shirt as a washrag, Angel dipped it into the cool water and started wiping away at the grime covering her skin.
"Sooo, how are you feelin'?" Timothy's voice tried to sound casual. "I mean, like, are you okay?"
Was he really about to try to make conversation right now? "I… I don't know," she decided at last. "I guess I'm okay and I'm happy to be alive, but after everything that's happened, I don't know if this is the kind of life I want to live. Running, fearing for my life, having to kill…"
She waited for Timothy for respond, but only the sound of the water met her ears. With nothing forthcoming, she wrung the rag out and ran it under her arms as she tried to give voice to the thoughts that had been bothering her all evening. "I suppose there's a part of me that wishes I hadn't told you to turn around back there. If I hadn't, the two of us wouldn't be part of this and we'd be trying to figure out a way back to your family. That sounds really nice right about now."
Timothy was silent for a few more moments at her confession before he finally responded, "If you hadn't made me turn around, everyone in New Haven would be dead right now."
There was no judgement in Timothy's voice, he'd only stated the facts, but it still pained her to hear that - to know that there was a part of her that just wanted to run away. Maybe she really could understand why Timothy always wanted to run. "I know that, but if we had left, I wouldn't have killed all those soldiers." As she wiped off her face, she wished she could wash away everything that had happened. "They were people too..."
Timothy's cot creaked lightly before he said, "You didn't kill all those soldiers, those bots did."
"I made them," she countered. "It's not like they would have otherwise; we both know that." Angel paused as she strained the dirty water out of the rag once more. "And you know what's worse? Helena's death bothers me more than the deaths of all those people I killed."
Figuring this was as clean as she was going to get, Angel shut off the water before bending down to fish out another shirt from her duffel bag. She hadn't done her legs, but there was no way she would ever feel comfortable stripping down that far with Timothy in the room. Combing her fingers through her hair as much as she cared, she was in the process of redoing her hair-tie when Timothy finally turned away from the wall.
He met her eyes as he settled back onto the cot, "That doesn't make you a bad person, just human. Of course you'd feel worse about her death. I'd be surprised if you didn't. You knew Helena. You didn't know any of the soldiers at New Haven, or the ones on those ships for that matter."
Angel knew Timothy was trying to comfort her, but it wasn't helping her any. He hadn't slaughtered a whole company of soldiers. And besides, Timothy had chosen to put himself in danger when he decided to be a body-double. It wasn't a choice she had been given.
"Hey - you mind if I uhhh..." Timothy gestured vaguely at the sink.
"Sure, I left the washrag over there to dry," Angel made to turn around and give him privacy as well, but Timothy just laughed.
"I don't think that's necessary," he said as he began divest himself his many layers.
Maybe not for propriety's sake, but it was still strange considering that she hadn't seen her dad's body sans clothing in years. Personality aside, Timothy was still too much like her father for comfort, at least in this case. She resolutely faced the wall and listened as Timothy turned on the water.
"By the way, what was that thing you did in the car?" came Timothy's voice over the trickling of water.
"I already explained it to everyone," Angel said. "I don't know what happened."
"That's the version you gave our new friends," he snorted. "I want the real story."
Angel frowned at a vulgar drawing that had been etched into the metal of the wall - along with someone's ECHO contact number. "What makes you think that there's more to it?"
"Well, for one: actor, remember? Body language is kinda our thing," he began. "And two: I've been around you for three weeks now. Give me some credit here. I don't think you were lying per se, but I don't think you were telling the whole truth either. What'd you call it… 'a lie by omission?'"
Angel had to admit that he had a point. She'd been getting good at reading Timothy's moods as well. Of course it would go both ways. But was she really comfortable with telling him? After all the years she'd spent trying to master her abilities, that fact that there was still a part she couldn't control frightened her. It was the part responsible for the death of her mother and those scientists; of course she didn't want to talk about it. Then again, he'd been nothing but honest to her lately. If they were going to be stuck together, maybe she could try trusting him some more.
"Remember when I said I could talk to machines?" she began. "Well, there's more to it than that. I can dump my own energy into them and even run them without an outside power source. It's just… unstable. They'd eventually overload and that's how people died, how my mother died. There are still aspects of my abilities that I can't control, but at least I don't do it on accident anymore. I just don't use them. That's what you saw me do back there… and you saw the result."
Timothy plopped the wet rag into the sink and shut off the water. "So, what you're saying is that you could've blown us all up back there?"
Angel internally winced, "Yeees - but I didn't hear anyone else coming up with a plan to save us."
"Wow," came his stunned response. "Not judgin' or anything, but ah… it's a lot to think about."
Despite his words, Angel couldn't help feeling a wave of discomfort radiating from him. She remembered the way he'd spoken to her after she had turned Hyperion's bots against them. 'What did you do,' he had said, and she had felt the fear and accusation in this tone even then. His words had mirrored her father's all those years ago when he had come home to find Angel weeping over the body of her mother.
"Does it bother you… what I can do?" she asked quietly, and Timothy remained quiet for so long that she eventually turned around to face him, only to find him looking back at her.
"No… yes - well, I mean, a little bit?" he admitted uncertainty. His hand reached up to comb through his auburn hair while the other one waved around for emphasis, "It's not really that you killed those people that bothers me. It's how you did it. I mean, here I am bunking with someone who's got some demigod level of space magic bullshit going on and I don't know what to make of it. I'm just a - well, look at me - I'm a little out of my element here. It's all kinda hard to take in." He dropped his hands finally and shrugged weakly, "Sorry if that's not a very good answer or anything."
Timothy's answer actually made a lot more sense than he thought it did. Angel had taken it for granted that her abilities would seem strange to anybody that hadn't been around them their whole lives. She'd always known that her father was afraid of her capabilities, but he dealt with it the only way he knew how: to dissect it; understand it; and ultimately, to control it. Maybe if he had spent a little more time talking to her rather than 'helping' her, things wouldn't have felt so strained between them. It made her sad to think that stumbling through all these awkward conversations with Timothy still felt more intimate than any of the talks she'd had with her own father.
Timothy seemed more hurt about his confession than she was, so she grabbed his shirt out of his bag and threw it at him. "You're not going to freak out are you?"
He removed the shirt from his face and his usual grin was back in place; it felt wrong to see him without it. "Nah, I think I'm good now. So, you ready for bed?"
Angel nodded and tried her best to get comfortable on the narrow cot. Lacking a pillow, she grabbed her jacket and bunched it under her head. There were no blankets around, but with clothing on, she hardly needed one. Timothy crossed the room to switch off the light and, as the room was plunged into darkness, she could hear the creak of his cot as he settled down. After allowing her eyes to slowly adjust to the shadows, Angel could just make him out lying on his back, arms folded behind his head.
After a while, sleep continued to elude her despite her exhaustion. From the sound of Timothy's breathing, he didn't seem any closer than she was. "Hey Timothy," she called out quietly just in case she was wrong.
She wasn't.
"Sup," came his reply.
Angel hadn't really thought about what to say next. "You know… I didn't ask how you were doing," she realized. Now that she thought about it, Angel had never asked him how he was doing. She'd actually spent most of their journey not wanting to talk to him, but it's wasn't like that was an issue anymore. "So, how are you doing?"
"You mean like, in general or today?"
"Either, I guess?"
Timothy let out a long breath, "Whew, well let's see: I killed my meal ticket; kidnapped his daughter; ran away from a pretentious asshole trying to kill me; crashed on a planet where everything is trying to kill me; almost got killed by bandits; almost got killed by my meal ticket's ex-girlfriend; almost got killed by a fascist mega-corporation; and now I've been roped into a resistance against said fascist mega-corporation where even more things will probably try to kill me. But hey, at least the company's nice."
"Well, when you put it that way…" she laughed.
"I know it's just a grab-bag of excitement, right?" he chuckled back. "Y'know, when they offered me a chance to pay off my college debt, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Angel stared dumbfounded into the darkness. "Wait, so you changed your entire body and practically erased your identity... over college debt?"
"It was a lot of debt," he insisted.
"That's… ridiculous. There had to be better options than selling yourself."
"You don't get it, it wasn't just about paying off my debt," he sighed. "I wanted to be somebody. Nobody cared who I was, but your dad… well, he had it all. Looks, money, women, power - I mean this guy was the whole package. People respected Jack. I guess I wanted some of that too."
"But what about your family - your life. Didn't you think they would miss you?"
"Pfft, they didn't care that much," he admitted. "When I took the job, Hyperion told everyone that I died. Y'know what their reaction was? Nothing. Straight… apathy. No one cared."
In spite of everything her father had done, at least he cared about her. Angel couldn't imagine just being ignored. That almost sounded worse. So why did Timothy want to back home at all? "So, no puzzles with mom?"
"Wishful thinking I guess…" he trailed off. "You're not the only one with nowhere to go."
"We don't have to go there if you don't want to," Angel quietly offered. "We could go somewhere else; make a new life on some other planet. Maybe we can go to Aquator, stay there for a while. I'd like to see the beach again... "
"Yeah, that would be nice," he agreed wistfully. "Of course, we could never afford it. I don't think there's much of a market for Handsome Jack doubles these days."
"You let me handle that," she laughed.
His cot creaked and she imagined that he was looking her way in the darkness. "What happened to your whole 'I'm not a thief' thing?"
"It would hardly be the worst thing I've done lately," Angel snorted. "Besides, I've always wanted to live on a beach. We'll laze about all day, build sandcastles and have drinks out of coconuts with little umbrellas. It'll be... perfect."
"I dunno, I'm starting to get a little sick of sand," he said. "The rest sounds pretty good though."
"We could be happy," she hummed. "What about you? Where would you want to go?"
Timothy was quiet for a long moment and Angel almost thought he had fallen asleep before he finally replied, "I don't know," he sighed. "When I got this gig, it was a twenty year contract. Doesn't really give you much of a chance to think about what comes after. Always thought about going home, but that's just because I didn't have anywhere else. Not really the adventurous type, I guess."
"You seem to be handling it pretty well." She had trouble finishing the sentence through a yawn, but there was still one more thing she wanted to know. "Hey, if you had the chance to do it again, would you still take the job?"
"Ask me when again when this is over."
A/N: Alright, we're finally getting back into the swing of things with our updates. Between scheduling and a general burnout, we definitely slowed down for a while there. Hopefully things will pick up in the coming months.
So, we've gotten into a little more detail about the full range Angel's powers and we think we've covered them all. Not much else to address here other than to celebrate the fact that the ship is finally ready to set sail. Not that it's going to be a quick voyage or anything, so sit tight people.
On one final awesome and completely unrelated note: the two of us have started collaborating on yet another story in a drastically different fandom… Zootopia. If you haven't seen the movie, go see it - you owe it to yourself. If you have, then click the link on either of our profiles to check it out. If you're interested in a noir mystery, furries, and our tongue-in-cheek style of humor, you'll love it. Hopefully.
Okay, thanks for reading and we'll catch you next time.