Chapter Sixty-Two: Fractures

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Selatapura, Usea.
October 31st, 2019.
1800hrs.

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"Trigger, can you hear me?" Count's voice brought Naomi out of her thoughts as she circled around the carrier, waiting to hear his voice again. They hadn't talked much on the way over, which was fine, since Naomi didn't really have the energy to say anything. She wouldn't even know what to say. So up until they reached the ship it was quiet, then Naomi tried to help Count land however she could, but given she was in the air that wasn't easy. Once he'd finally touched down safely on the deck, that left Naomi in the air alone. But she'd be down there with him soon enough.

"I hear you loud and clear," Naomi replied. It felt a bit weird to say something again after being quiet for so long, but that never stopped her before. "You made it down okay, right?"

"Somehow, yeah. I think I managed alright…been a while since I had to make a carrier landing," Count told her, taking a breath. He sounded a lot better than he had in the air, at least as far as she could tell, now that his nerves had settled down. "The plane's still in one piece, so that's a win."

Naomi swallowed, her mouth and throat dry. She was trying to keep from sputtering or slurring. "I wasn't asking about the plane, I was asking about you."

"Well, I'm talking to you and I'm not dead, so all things considered I think I'm fine," Count replied, sounding like he was smirking. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood, she wasn't sure and she didn't have the energy to think about it too hard. Besides, with how low she was on fuel they both had better things to worry about. "Anyway, it's your turn now. I'll try and guide you down, but I'd trust your eyes a lot more than mine right now."

"Alright. I'm coming around now," Naomi said, pretty sure there wasn't any way that she could stall. She wanted to get out of the cockpit after being in the air all day, sweating like a dog and miserable, and give her body a break before she had to get back in the air. But she didn't want to be stuck on a ship. And she also wasn't sure she was ready to face Count or anyone or anything else she'd have to deal with once she landed. "Whatever you do, just please don't let me crash…"

Although carrier landings weren't completely foreign to them, not when the OADF and OMDF were regularly working alongside one another. Early on in their history, about as often as aerial warfare had been around, the navy had made accommodations for the air force. This carried through in every ship the navy commissioned and every plane the air force had in service. The pilots were trained accordingly. That being said, Naomi was out of practice, and she didn't like anything to do with ships. Being on one at all was bad enough, landing on one was something else.

She'd just have to suck it up. Unless she wanted to crash right into the ocean. She banked to circle back around, at least remembering what end of the ship she was supposed to land on. Actually, she knew for a fact she could remember what she was supposed to do, but actually doing it was a different story with how nervous it had always made her. Still, she slowed her speed and lowered her landing gear, and said as much to Count. "Dropping landing gear now. Let's get this over with."

"Relax, you'll be fine. After all the crazy shit you've pulled off, this oughta be a piece of cake for you," Count told her with a short laugh. As she made her approach, he did what he could to guide her down. He was surprisingly good at keeping calm and calming her down, being direct and to the point. He wasn't like any LSO she'd ever worked with, even though that list wasn't very long, but he managed to get her down alright. Naomi actually thought she was doing well, and he gave her minor directions all the way up to the end. "No wire for you to catch, because I'm one guy and I have no clue what to do. And no net. So…this is gonna be tricky."

"Guess you really should add this to the list of craziest things I've had to do," Naomi said with a sigh. She was practically already on the deck. She'd have to brake instead of going full throttle, but as long as she acted fast she didn't see herself failing too badly. Worst case scenario she did a nosedive into the ocean and completely trashed her plane. "Does everything look okay?"

"You're on course and looking good," Count told her. "Just take it nice and easy."

Naomi slowed her speed as she reached the edge of the deck, trying to treat it like any other landing and ignore the fact that it was not in fact 'any other landing'. She touched down and braked hard, the initial jolt from the landing something that she was used to and able to quickly recover from. Her heart started pounding though as her plane moved further and further down the deck, and she only came to a full stop once she was a little past where Count's F-15 was parked.

Once she had actually gotten through the landing, she breathed a sigh of relief, her arms shaking against her will. She had a pretty good feeling that once she touched the ground her legs were going to feel like jelly, but at least she was alive. She let out a sigh of relief and relaxed in her seat, leaning her head back as she unhooked the mask over her face. Not the most comfortable, but she'd take it. Just a moment to close her eyes and breathe while she waited for her nerves to calm down again.

"That's what I'm talking about, Trigger," Count praised her as soon as she came to a stop, some energy returning to his voice. "Not one scratch. I knew I could get you down safe."

Naomi managed a snort, but she hardly had the energy for a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not dead at least," she said. She took another few breaths, desperate to get some fresh air. "I'll see you in a minute, just…let me move this thing so the others can land."

"Roger that, I'll see you in a minute."

And she went about doing exactly what she said she would. It wasn't easy, but by the time Count was there to help she was already done, with her plane lined up next to his. From there she numbly went about everything else, unhooking herself, opening the canopy and dropping to the ground by the time Count even reached the plane. Unsteady as she felt once she was out, and as heavy as her flight gear felt, she just let her legs give out underneath her, falling back on her butt and pulling a knee up to rest her arm and forehead against after she wiped some sweat from her face.

Naomi didn't really care how pathetic she looked. She felt horrible. Without an actual task at hand and adrenaline to numb the physical pain it was a lot harder to keep her emotions together. She thought she had felt overwhelmed and hopeless after what happened at Farbanti, and before that there were a billion other times she'd felt like the world just came crashing down at her…but she was by far at a new low. And she hated it. They had 'won' as far as destroying the Arsenal Bird and taking back the space elevator, but she didn't feel like celebrating. Because for all she knew her father or any of her friends could be dying. Or dead. And she'd let her wingman take a missile. A missile that was meant for her. She was angry and upset over practically everything.

She heard Count approach her, but she could only glance up at him for a second before she turned her head down again and closed her eyes. The change in her demeanor from talking to just crashing was a lot, even she could tell that, but it wasn't the first time she'd felt like this…it was just the first time in the last two months that she was willing to give in to it, and that was only because it was Count that was with her. No one else was around to see her like this. He was one of the only people under her command she was willing to let watch her crash, even if it made her feel terrible.

Count paused when he first reached her, and she could feel him staring at her. When he finally broke the silence, the concern and confusion was clear in his voice. "Trigger? You feeling alright down there?"

"No." Naomi took a breath and forced herself back to her feet, trying one last time to just shove her emotions down. She didn't look at him, fiddling with her flight gear to start and get herself free of it. She'd rather carry it over wear it. Unfortunately for her, she ended up taking out the pent up frustration on the various clips and straps, which meant she wasn't hiding things nearly as well as she had hoped. She gritted her teeth, feeling herself start to tear up over a task that was supposed to be simple, and chose to get angry over cry. "I'm just…sick and tired of this…dammit."

"The war? We're all sick and tired of it, that's not new," Count said, confused at first before he sounded like he was suspicious that the war was her only problem. To be fair it was just a convenient blanket. Sure enough, though, he was spot on as he went on, pausing only long enough to think about what he was saying. "But I've seen you act like this before and something tells me that's not the only thing that's got you upset."

Naomi let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, what gave it away?"

Count seemed taken aback, looking a bit annoyed. She hadn't meant to snap at him, but it wasn't like it was some big secret that she was stressed about a lot of things. He was almost immediately defensive, though, not that she could blame him. "Then just tell me what your deal is before you blow up at me," he told her with a light scoff. "You seemed fine on the flight over, now you're angry. I think I'm allowed to be worried about you."

"I wasn't fine on the way over and I'm not fine now," Naomi replied with a huff. She could feel a light headache forming, so she pulled the already slipping hair tie out of her hair completely, running a hand from her forehead across her scalp. That only did so much. And it didn't make her feel any better. "I'm not trying to worry you, but how do you expect me to be after all of this? Like that stunt with those stupid drones! I mean, do you have any idea what a goddamn idiot you are?!"

"I was trying to look out for you," Count argued. "What do you expect me to do, just let you die?"

"I wouldn't have died! You could have, though," Naomi snapped back at him, gesturing over towards his Eagle. "That could have just as easily been the engine, or the cockpit, or whatever else! You could have crashed or died, all because you're trying to play hero or some shit!"

Count almost rolled his eyes, looking over at his plane with a glare and then back at her. "It's called keeping my flight leader safe, not 'playing hero'!" He raised his voice a bit. "This whole thing goes to shit if we lose you! You're the only thing keeping all of us together and alive, but somebody's gotta keep you alive and you know damn well you aren't invincible! Do you have any idea how important you are to us?!"

"Do you have any idea how important you are to me?!" Naomi raised her voice to match his, breaking slightly as she started to tear up. She hadn't meant for it to sound…like that. She didn't think she did anyways. The look on his face was like she had just slapped him right across it. She shook it off, quickly recovering, keeping the anger even though she could hear her own voice starting to shake, "How important you are to all of us? How important all of you are to me?!"

That was the truth. She cared about all of them. They were her friends, her allies, her wingmen, the people that she wanted nothing more than to be able to send them home in one piece…and they risked everything for her, on her orders, without complaining. She asked a lot of them. She didn't know what she was doing half the time. But they always followed her. The least she could do was be willing to lay her life on the line for them. Their safety was more important to her than her own.

"You can't seriously expect us all to just roll over and let you die just because you have a savior complex." Count let out another scoff, and for some reason the tone just made her more frustrated. He wasn't wrong, though.

"You've been in the same war I've been in, you know exactly how many people we've lost," Naomi told him, trying to calm herself down. It wasn't working very well. She could either yell or she could start crying, and she had been trying to avoid the second option as long as possible. She raised her voice again. "I'm trying to keep from adding to that list, and I'm sick and tired of screwing up! If you had died today it would have been my fault! And then…" She trailed off, glancing out towards the sea, towards the space elevator. She could barely make it out in the distance, but it was there. As soon as her brain figured out where she was going, her grief finally took over. "And then I don't even know if my…stupid father is alive or not because he…he –"

Naomi cut herself off. He could be dead or dying and it would be her fault. She couldn't get to him, she couldn't save him, and the only reason he was even there was because of her. She couldn't think of anything but how to tell her family what had happened. Why her father was dead because he'd gotten involved to help her, then gone and sacrificed himself for a bunch of people he barely knew. She couldn't even forgive herself for not saving Brownie or Wiseman, how was she supposed to forgive herself for not saving her father?

She took in a shaky breath, trying as hard as she could not to break. It wasn't easy. She let out a frustrated sigh, and gestured half-heartedly in the direction of the elevator. "And the rest of my men are out there fighting against those…stupid monster drones they sicced on me," she said, wiping away the tears under her eyes. Maybe they'd go away. "And I'm stuck waiting here because I let my stupid ass wingman eat a missile."

Count looked at her, his anger from before fading a little. He still looked annoyed, but when he spoke he didn't sound as angry as before. He was definitely still a bit hurt and frustrated, but he wasn't shouting. "You're the one that's a dumbass if you think you let me or anyone else do anything," he said. "You may be our flight lead, but we chose to follow you. I thought that was clear when I gave you and Fencer the lead, but I guess not. And if your father died…well, it wouldn't be your fault."

"I can't lose anyone else, Count," Naomi snapped at him again. She didn't mean to. "You have no idea how angry I've been since the start of this entire damn war. I'm stuck. I'm trying to do my job and…I'm angry. I'm angry about people and things that shouldn't even matter anymore." She paused, glaring at him, and raised her voice a bit. "I'm angry at you. I'm angry at my father, at the Princess, at Erusea, Osea, I'm angry at everyone that's gone and died on me and I don't know why!"

"So what? You wanna scream at me? Hit me?" Count asked her, straightening up and holding his arms out like he was trying to provoke her into a fight. "Go on. Best shot. Whatever you've gotta do, just do it, and get it over with."

"That's not gonna fix anything," Naomi said, tempted to roll her eyes.

"Maybe, maybe not, but if it makes you feel better then I don't care," Count said. She didn't have an answer to that, and as angry as she was she wasn't sure if she could actually hit him. As much as she'd like to. There was a brief silence between them, the only sounds being the typical ocean noises that were mostly white noise to her. Count sighed. "How long have you been bottling everything up, Trigger?"

Naomi blinked, trying to back track. The start of the war was only a few months ago, but it felt like ages, and although she could recall it all she wasn't sure how much she'd been holding back all that time. "Since…I got convicted, I guess, I just…up until I yelled at the Princess. Then after that."

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing to think for a moment. "I thought I told you to stop doing that."

"What am I supposed to do, Count?" Naomi asked him with a scoff. "I get sent to a prison where I'd have been eaten alive if anyone saw me break, then I get put in charge of a squadron, then an entire group, so tell me at what point was I supposed to process any of the shit that's been happening?" She grabbed a fistful of her own hair, not trying to sound so angry with him. "The anger is fine. I can yell, I can blow shit to pieces, whatever I'm supposed to do, but I…can't fall apart. But now everything has gone to hell for the millionth time and…I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Why didn't you just come and tell me?" Count asked her, his voice surprisingly soft now. She looked at him, confused, not sure why she hadn't expected that. Maybe she wanted him to tell her to shut up and suck it up, but hearing that just made her hurt more. "If you've been struggling this long just to seem…I dunno, like a good leader or whatever, then why didn't you tell me? Or your father? Or someone?"

"I didn't…I…that's my problem, not yours…" Naomi looked away from him. She didn't have a good excuse.

"You've been there for me when I hit rock bottom," Count pointed out. Bluntly. Like that should have been obvious. She remembered it, but only when he brought it up. She didn't keep score of what she'd done for other people, she just did whatever it was, but she didn't expect them to do the same thing. Or at the very least she didn't want to ask for them to do the same thing. He took a step towards her. "I have no idea how weird this is going to sound, but…if you need to cry then you can cry. Or if you want a verbal punching back, I'm right here." He put on a small smirk. "And the offer to hit me is still on the table, too, but that's a one and done deal."

Naomi managed a small breathy laugh, but felt tears forming as soon as she did, and she looked away from him with a mix between a laugh and a short sob. Completely against her will, she gave in to her sadness for the first time in months. Tears fell completely against her will and she brought a hand up to her face in a feeble, last ditch effort to stop herself but before she knew it her whole body was shaking with sobs. And a moment later Count stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug, letting her bury her face against his shoulder as she let herself break for good. The only act of protest was lightly hitting her fist harmlessly against the life vest he had on, like that was any kind of real punch. But for whatever reason that was what she did before she let him close the gap between them.

She returned Count's embrace, desperately gripping at the back of his shoulders and holding herself as tightly to him as she possibly could. She felt him lean his head against hers, his arms wrapping around her shoulder almost as tightly as she was holding onto him, and for the first time in a long time she felt something close to safe. Even though she was getting tears and likely snot all over him he didn't seem to mind. He just let her stand there and cry and let out all of the grief she had pent up almost since the war began and the grief that had hit her full force only hours earlier. She was crying until her chest and throat and eyes all burned and she couldn't even breathe without gasping for air.

About the only thing she had to hold onto at that moment was that Count wasn't dead. He was still there. And she was going to be apologizing to no end for bawling her eyes out and using his shoulder as a tissue. They held onto each other until Naomi could breathe properly again, though she was still sniffling. She might have stayed there forever if not for the fact she heard the familiar sounds of an F-15's engine and a helicopter over the sound of her sniffling and Count's breathing.

The two of them both broke apart, both looking towards the sound and then at each other before they jogged around their aircraft to get a clear view of the sky. In the distance, a few dark specks could be made out against the sky and clouds, coming from the space elevator. As they got closer it became obvious it was a medevac helicopter, likely an Erusean one that they had commandeered, flanked by a pair of Eagles either belonging to the rest of Strider Squadron or some of Cyclops Squadron.

They kept out of the way, standing beside their own aircraft as the pilot of the helicopter began to touch down on the deck, not even waiting for either of them to try sprinting to the platform to guide them down. The only thing they could do was stand there and tolerate the deafening sound and try not to be blown away. The two fighters on the other hand, closed the space between them once the helicopter had landed and began to circle the carrier, probably waiting for an opportunity to land themselves.

Naomi took off running as soon as she recognized Avril and Bandog aboard it, a moment later spotting Genette and Georg as a group of medics quickly exited the helicopter with a stretcher in tow. She didn't wait for Count to follow her or for any permission from the crew on the helicopter, too anxious to see who the patient was. When she finally reached them, she felt her whole body go cold and her throat tighten, able to recognize her father the second she saw him. Even with an oxygen mask over his face. Even though he was covered in dirt and blood.

Another medic leapt out of the helicopter, immediately shouting orders to the ones carrying the stretcher. "Get him down to the sick bay ICU and prep him now!" he yelled over the sounds of the blades overhead, then reached for Georg as he made an attempt to get out, supporting his weight on his shoulder. It was then that Naomi noticed the bloodied, bandaged mess one of his legs was, missing it after being more concerned about her father. The soldier encouraged Georg as he hit the ground and winced, calling out some encouragement for him. "We'll get you settled ASAP, Fitzgerald, just hang in there."

Naomi kept out of the way of the stretcher carrying her father, marching up to the medics filing out of the helicopter behind her friends. The medics noticed her, but barely paid her any attention until she managed to catch up to them and grab one by the arm. He didn't look like he was in a rush compared to the others, and there was a whole team with her father, so she didn't have to worry about it.

"Hey!" she said, also forced to raise her voice over the helicopter blades as the aircraft began to lift to the sky again. She jerked her free hand towards the group heading towards the island of the carrier. "Prep him for what?"

"What?" the medic asked her, blinking like she'd asked him something ridiculous. Or maybe he just didn't hear her. He looked all of twelve, but she knew he was probably around her age, no more than a couple of years younger.

"What are they prepping him for?!" Naomi repeated, trying not to let her voice crack. The helicopter was already heading back out from the looks of things, though that was hardly safe with those drones buzzing around and an air battle presumably still going on but she guessed they didn't have much of a choice. "Tell me what happened to him!"

The medic blinked again, then his expression hardened and he tried to pull his arm back, glancing towards his companions and patients. "Look, I can't just tell you –"

"He's my father and I'm your ranking officer dammit! Take your confidentiality and shove it!" Naomi snapped at him, yanking him back before she released his arm. The medic froze and she let out a sigh, trying to calm herself as the others raced over to her. She put a hand over her forehead, lowering her voice now that she didn't have to compete with anything but the periodic sound of jet engines as her wingmen circled overhead. "I'm sorry, Corporal."

"Trigger!" Count called out to her as he jogged over, Avril and Bandog hobbling towards her from the other side with Genette trailing behind. Count's footsteps came to an abrupt halt beside her as he brushed a hand over hers before pulling back. "Hey, ease up on the guy. You alright?"

"I'm fine," Naomi replied. She nodded to the terrified corporal standing in front of her and then looked away. "Not so sure he is, though."

"You good, kid?" Count asked him, turning his attention to the soldier.

"Yes, sir." Naomi heard the medic shift, apparently moving to stand at some kind of attention. He swallowed, practically gulped actually, and quickly added, "Sorry, sir. Ma'am. If I could just go and ask my superior, then I could –"

To Naomi's surprise, it was Bandog that came to the rescue, his voice commanding in a way it hadn't been since they'd been transferred out of Zapland. He sounded much more like the old Bandog as he said, "She already told you she's your ranking officer. Or did you miss that part?" Naomi and Count both looked at him with shock, and Naomi's heart broke even more as she noticed Sarge being held in his arms. Thankfully, aside from a bandage wrapped around her leg and side, she seemed okay. Bandog did, too. Aside from how angry he looked at the poor medic they were ganging up on. "Your ranking officer and your patient's damn daughter!"

"I –" The corporal glanced at Bandog, noting the sergeant's rank he was wearing, then back at Naomi. If Naomi hadn't been so stressed out and scared she never would have tried to pull rank, and she definitely didn't want others reinforcing it for her, but there wasn't any way around it anymore. And it worked. The medic let out a sigh. "He's alive, but we could barely stabilize him in the field. And the force of that debris hitting him…he's lucky he wasn't dead when we got to him. I can fill you in, but you'll have to come with me."

Naomi nodded on instinct, still trying to process what she'd just been told and the fact that it wasn't even scratching the surgery. But as the corporal took off running, Naomi only took a couple of steps before she turned back to face the others. She was pretty sure she was talking about a mile a minute, her mouth moving as fast as she could think. "Hang on, is there anything I need to do to help with the aircraft or landing or –"

"No." Avril cut her off almost immediately, her voice firm. Her eyes looked like they were watery, though, and it was the closest she had ever looked to crying. Her expression and posture were as rigid as usual though. "You need to be with your father, end of story."

"But –" Naomi started, not wanting to leave them to fend for themselves.

"I'll get everyone taken care of, Trigger, just go," Count cut in this time with an almost exasperated sigh, his voice urgent. "We're all gonna be fine, just go look after your dad."

Naomi gave them all a grateful smile, or as much of one as she was able to muster, before she nodded and took off sprinting towards the island after the medic. The others would be taken care of, she reassured herself to find some way to convince herself she wasn't just ditching them in favor of her father. And on the bright side of things, if nothing else, at least they were all still alive.

1830hrs.

The first thing Rosa was aware of when she finally came to was a pounding in her head. It was a headache like she'd never experienced in her life, worsened by the ringing in her ears and the light in her face. And the absolutely awful sound she awoke to that was drowning out the faint conversations around her. The next thing she heard was someone shout her name and the memories of what had happened prior to her blacking out came flooding back, causing her to startle to full consciousness as her brain and body seemed to think she was still falling.

Although she let out a frantic, frightened gasp and tried to jump up, she felt herself held in place, and, once she stopped squinting against the light, she realized there were several uniformed men and women hovering over her. They weren't familiar to her, their uniforms mostly that of the IUN, but they looked concerned and she could barely make out multiple attempts to soothe her. Then she felt a cold hand on her forehead and she tilted her head towards it, getting dizzy even though she hadn't moved it that fast.

She recognized Henri, looking relieved as soon as she turned to look at him, settling down a bit. He was the only person there she recognized, his hair a mess and face and hands covered in dirt and sweat, but aside from obvious fatigue he looked unharmed. She had a good feeling the patches of blood on his sleeves weren't his, and judging from the insignia several of the soldiers were wearing…she had a sneaking suspicion it might have been hers. The brief calm that had spread over her turned to fear.

Rosa opened her mouth, and although it felt like she was saying something her voice was drowned out. Trying to get a good look at her surroundings, unable to move her head far without everything around her spinning and making her feel nauseous, she was able to figure out that she was on a helicopter. That explained…a lot of things. But it also left her with more questions than before. Trying to raise her voice over the sound, praying someone could hear her even with all the extra noise, she managed to choke out, "What…what happened?"

"Say that again, Princess?" one of the Osean medics asked her, having to raise his voice as well. But at least this time she could actually hear him a bit better.

"What happened?" Rosa repeated the question, then promptly tried to sit herself up on her elbows. Again, she was forced back down to the stretcher she was laying on.

"Whoah, whoah, take it easy. You shouldn't be moving around, especially since we can't get a brace for you," the medic said quickly. Rosa blinked, staring at him wide eyed. He glanced at Henri, and Rosa, now terrified to move her head, did the same out of the corner of her eyes. Henri gave the medic an exasperated look and the poor soldier gave an apologetic smile to Rosa and explained himself. "I'm not trying to freak you out or anything. But considering how close you were to the blast from that missile, and the fact it blew off your helmet, chances are you've gone through some pretty nasty head trauma."

Rosa swallowed and glanced at Henri again. She glanced at his arm as best she could, then back up to his face, and he quickly pulled at his sleeve to cover it. She took a breath. "Is that…" she started, collecting herself and raising her voice as best she could. "Is that my blood, then?"

She couldn't see Henri's reaction, fixing her eyes straight up to hopefully curb the pain and dizziness, but he didn't answer her right away. She could see him shifting from her peripheral vision, then he finally cleared his throat and answered her. "Yes, Your Highness, I'm afraid it is. It seems to have stopped, though, once the medics were able to bandage it."

Her fingers curled around the side of the stretcher, though she tried not to tense, and she realized the pressurized suit was gone. She was back in the jacket and clothes she'd been wearing, giving her more freedom of movement. Reaching up with her other hand, she carefully ran her hands from her ear down to the back of her neck, stopping short when she realized another of the soldiers was holding her head steady. On the back of her neck there was what felt like a gauze bandage, and from her ears down her jaw and neck was the damp stickiness of drying blood. Tears began to form, burning against how dry her eyes were, and she immediately closed them before she pulled her hand back.

Letting her other arm go limp, only her fingers picking at the metal side of the stretcher, she placed her other arm across her abdomen and took a few breaths to calm herself. Opening her eyes again, though it hurt to do every time, Rosa then repeated her question from before. "What happened to me?"

"Well, you're incredibly lucky to be alive," the medic said, pulling out a small, portable flashlight and clicking it on. "Do you mind if I check your pupils, Princess?" Rosa was scared to nod, so she just responded by staring straight ahead and murmuring a yes. He talked while he worked, shining the light into her eyes. It made her head hurt even more, but she tolerated it and tried not to wince away. "Your parachute was shredded, but what was left of it caught on a tree. Thank God for landscaping, am I right?" He forced a crooked smile, clearly trying to ease the tension, but a blank stare from both Rosa and Henri had him awkwardly clearing his throat. He pulled the flashlight back and clicked it off. "Tough crowd…anyways, pupils are still dilated. Bleeding from the ears has stopped…how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," Rosa replied. She began to run down a list of everything, not having the energy to beat around the bush. "And everything's spinning…and loud. I'm tired."

"I'll bet. Just try and stay awake until we can get you to the carrier," the medic told her. Then he disappeared from her line of sight, and she couldn't hear what he was doing. He came back into view with a serious look on his face. "I have to ask this, considering you aren't screaming in agony or anything. What's your pain on a scale of one to ten?"

Rosa had to think for a moment. She was a perfectly healthy person. She hadn't really been in much pain before, living a relatively comfortable life. The only time before this war she'd been in actual, real, debilitating pain was catching the flu once or twice when she was younger…but that had been years ago and incredibly rare. Thinking back, the headache and muscle aches she had now were a lot like what she'd experienced back then. She decided that although this pain was something entirely new to her, she probably could be worse off, so she settled on an in between. "Maybe…a five or six?"

The medic nodded slowly, reaching over to grab something. "Alright, I'm gonna give you something for the pain," he said, and he gestured to a syringe in his hands. "You'll feel a prick, but it should at least bring it down some, at least until we figure out the severity…I'm assuming you aren't allergic to any medications, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Please, go ahead," Rosa replied, closing her eyes and letting him administer the shot as soon as he'd located a vein on her arm and wiped off the immediate area on the skin. She took a deep breath, never a fan of needles but tolerating it anyways and telling herself the headache was going to go away now.

After that, the rest of the flight was mostly a blur. She couldn't remember it well, only knowing that she was awake and the pain became a bit more tolerable, but for the most part her head still hurt and her body still ached. If anything was said to her, she hardly remembered answering, but given what she'd heard about stronger painkillers she was expecting a lot more relief from it. The flight was a blur, but she was pretty sure that was because she was purposefully letting herself zone out…or maybe it was the effects of the medicine, she wasn't actually all that sure.

When they finally landed, she was lifted up by the medics and carefully carried out of the helicopter, completely at the mercy of the people around her. It was already almost completely dark out, and there was the faint sound of jet engines in the distance, and underneath that and the sounds of the helicopter she could hear what sounded like the ocean. There were a few lights atop a large tower she was being taken towards, and it wasn't hard to guess that they were aboard a ship. She took a breath as they finally ducked inside, met now by dull lights as she was taken down a flight of loud, metallic sounding steps. Definitely a ship.

That's right, he said we were heading for a carrier, didn't he…? If she had a problem with it she didn't care to protest, but they could have left her out on the deck and she would have preferred it over the stuffy interior of the ship. But instead they took her down to sick bay, which was better lit than wherever they were before. She took in the silence of the brief trip, still forced to listen to the ringing in her ears and having no way to drown it out but thankfully not having to put up with any extra sounds making her headache any worse. As soon as they reached the sick bay, however, there was a rush of sound from soldiers shouting back and forth and conversing with whatever conscious patients they had.

Rosa was pretty sure everyone was giving them a wide berth, since they stayed on a pretty straight course as they made their way down the halls. They stopped only once to ask for directions and information, only to receive conflicting answers, which made Rosa realize that not one of the soldiers she saw was wearing the uniform of Osea's navy. Most of them were wearing Osean or IUN uniforms, and the few she saw that were Erusean definitely wouldn't know their way around the carrier and definitely weren't navy.

"You'd think with all the damn marines and naval officers we had one of 'em would be doctors or medics or something, but no," the medic that had been talking to her on the helicopter griped after they finally ended up on the right track, everyone focusing on reading the signs to make sure they were going the right way. He took a look around. "No CT, but an MRI is probably better anyways…" He looked down at Rosa and gave her a smile. "You're lucky I worked as a tech in a big military hospital for a while, or else we'd be SOL. Between you and me, you're probably safer in our hands than some bigshot army doctor, though."

"Somehow I doubt that," Henri commented dryly under his breath, his expression blank and his tone not giving away any kind of scorn. "But it isn't like we have any other options."

The medic – Rosa still couldn't get a clear view of his name tag – let out a quiet chuckle, clearly not bothered by the remark. Maybe he'd gotten that a lot, or maybe he wasn't being serious to begin with, Rosa didn't know nor did she really care at that moment. She wasn't worried about her current caregiver's credentials, since he'd probably seen worse things than your average doctor might see, she just wanted to get whatever needed to be done over with so she could go to bed.

Thankfully, that moment would come soon enough.

The MRI was a new experience for her, but not as anxiety inducing as she would have expected. All she had to do was lie still, and the scan only lasted a few minutes before they were carting her off to an exam room as soon as one freed up. She stayed there, staring up at the ceiling while Henri paced in a small circle in the corner. It was quiet, or she thought it was, though everything sounded faint to her unless people were raising their voices. She blamed that on the tinnitus she was experiencing, but part of her wondered if she was losing her hearing.

The whole time she was thinking about the state of those out in the in-patient ward, which, judging from the back and forth she heard, had been overwhelmed quickly since the only ICU rooms were occupied and the ward had become the only place to treat anyone. She wondered how many people had died in the field, and how many would die before the night was up, and how many of them were the same Osean pilots she had gotten to know.

Three Strikes wasn't dead, surely, but what about the others? Who had taken that missile? She could remember seeing one of them chased down by those drones, but everything had happened so fast she couldn't find anyone's names under the cockpit. She wondered if James had made it. Or Three Strikes' wingman, the one she seemed so close to. Or even her father, who had been on the ground. When she'd destroyed those location markers, beating them in with the pistol she'd had, she didn't think the drones were going to drop out of the sky the way they had. Then the other two drones showed up…there wasn't anything to be done about that, but maybe if she'd been faster they'd have had better luck. If anything had happened to any of them, she felt responsible for it.

Rosa wasn't sure how much time had gone by before the door opened, and her current 'doctor' stepped in, a few scans in his hands. He shut the door and she could hear him shuffling said scans, but she was trying to keep her hands steady. She noticed Henri stop, able to see his movement out of the corner of his eye and his shadow on the wall. He must have said something, but she had no idea what he had asked. All she heard was the medic's response to it.

"The opposite, actually. You're one lucky lady, Princess," the medic said with a short whistle. Rosa wasn't sure she'd heard him right until he reached the bedside and told her, "You can sit up if you'd like. At the very least look around. You're definitely suffering from a concussion, but I was expecting to find bleeding or some kind of spinal fracture, but…unless I'm reading these wrong, you're all clear as far as that's concerned."

"Really?" Rosa said up, though maybe a bit too quickly since the room started to spin. She placed a hand on her forehead and gripped tightly to the edge of the exam table with the other. "So…what about everything else? I'm still dizzy."

"Well, like I said, you do still have a concussion, so that's to be expected," he told her, holding out the scans for her to look at. She had no clue what any of it was supposed to look like, so it just looked like a bunch of pictures to her. He explained what she was looking at. "If there was a bleed, you'd be seeing a dark splotch in here somewhere, but as you can see it's perfectly fine."

Rosa noticed the medic looking over at Henri suddenly, and she followed his gaze, and was confused for a moment before she felt a sinking feeling in her chest. Henri's mouth was moving, but it sounded like he was talking under his breath. She furrowed her brow and cut off whatever he was saying. "Henri, why are you being so quiet?" She looked to the medic again. "Is there something I'm not supposed to hear?"

The medic blinked, looking over at her, and he looked almost startled. "Shit…earlier I just thought you were just having to readjust from the helicopter but…" His mouth kept moving, but he sounded distant as he moved away from her, beginning to quietly dig through the drawers and cabinets of the exam room. He must not have found what he was looking for. He got closer to her and she could hear him better again, "...kind of doctor doesn't have an otoscope. Whatever, that wouldn't help me much anyways. Princess, are you still experiencing that ringing in your ears?"

"Yes." Rosa swallowed, preparing for the worst. "And I couldn't hear you clearly from across the room."

"Shit." The repeated expletives didn't spark any kind of confidence. He sighed, reaching up and rubbing behind his head. He glanced over at Henri, then back at her, pausing to think before he continued.. "Well, I'm not going to alarm you yet, so just pay attention to how you feel. If that ringing doesn't subside any and you still can't hear clearly, and the concussion symptoms don't ease up…consider seeing an ENT. It could be temporary, or permanent damage, but I don't have the means or the training to tell you that and it's too soon to anyways. About all I can do is advise you…can't overstep or the 'real' physicians will throw a fit."

"I see," she said, trying to ignore the bit of fear and grief coming up. Was she allowed to feel afraid? They were talking about a change that could affect the rest of her life, after all. Maybe it would go away, though. No one could just instantly be better after what she'd been through…but surely people had recovered faster from worse? She tried not to think about that. "What should I do for now?"

"Rest. I'd suggest hanging out here, until we figure out who we can treat as out-patient. I have to admit, though, you're one of the luckier ones. Best patient I've seen all day," the medic gave her a laugh, trying to ease the tension. "Anyways, sleep. Get enough water. If you're still hurting, let someone know and we can try and rustle up some Tylenol or something for you. Sound like a good plan?"

Rosa nodded slowly, though that alone was exhausting and nauseating, but she brushed it off. The medic smiled and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulders before he bid them both goodbye and hurried off to help his comrades with other patients. She wished she could do more, but she doubted they needed or wanted her help. She would only get in the way. She had wanted nothing more than to rest, but now that she was being told to do just that she wanted to be up and about and pitching in. Especially when she was holding herself responsible for all of this, whether that was true or not, putting the blame on herself was hardwired into her by now.

Reluctantly, she laid back down on the exam table, rolling over onto her side. It was cold and uncomfortable without a real pillow or any blankets. She'd have preferred the cot she was sleeping on back at Tyler Island, and she'd been thinking that was uncomfortable. Quite a few things were making her reevaluate the way she had viewed life and service members, and moving from one uncomfortable place to another was one of those things. She may have come from a humble background but once you knew real comfort and safety it was painful to leave it all behind. But compared to others, she'd had it easy, hadn't she?

A few minutes of silence went by, during which Rosa had rested her eyes while Henri sat down on the rolling stool in the room and tried to make himself comfortable with the countertop as a pillow. The light overhead made it hard for her to want any real kind of sleep, but even with it off she wouldn't be able to shut her thoughts down. And many things were still nagging at her, making the uncomfortable sleeping situation even more unpleasant.

After several minutes of quiet, she sighed and began absentmindedly picking at the exam table paper before she broke the silence, mainly curious if Henri had actually been fortunate enough to doze off. If not, then she wanted to talk to him about something. "Henri?"

He quickly lifted his head, shaking off any signs of sleepiness, completely alert. In fact, she doubted he'd even let his guard down. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"I wanted to apologize," Rosa told him, trying to keep her voice clear and level instead of lowering it and shrinking away.

"Apologize for…what, Your Highness?" Henri asked her, looking genuinely confused.

"For…not being able to shoot General Parrish," Rosa told him, not letting herself get shaky or choked up. She began to scrape her nails across the paper she was laying on top of, making sure she didn't start tearing it because of her nerves. She was a bit nervous to look at Henri, but she made herself make eye contact. He didn't look confused anymore, not once he'd processed what she'd said.

He didn't answer her right away, but eventually he let out a sigh and his expression softened. "You have nothing to apologize for, Your Highness," he told her. "Believe me, it was probably for the better. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I should have been stronger. Like you and like a soldier," Rosa said, certain she sounded like a child. She swallowed a knot in her throat. "He wasn't a good man, and he hurt so many people and…and he killed my parents, and…hurt you…and I couldn't shoot him. I thought it was going to be easy if I knew who and what I'd be doing it for, but…I caved when people were relying on me."

"It's not an easy thing to do. We probably should have told you that, but believing it's for the right reason is what helps us make peace with it," Henri said, straightening up in his seat. "That being said, you don't owe me an apology. I did my job, and that job is keeping you safe, and respectfully, Your Highness, that will remain my job until this war is over." He paused, cracking a small smile. "Unless you'd like to fire me."

"No. I couldn't do that," Rosa said, managing a breathy chuckle. As quickly as she laughed, the smile faded just as quickly. They went quiet again, and considered just leaving it alone, but she had to know or else she wasn't going to be able to think about anything else. She stopped scraping at the paper. "You don't think less of me because I couldn't kill him, do you? And I want an honest answer, Henri…consider it an order, if you must."

Henri blew out a breath through his nose, almost looking amused over any kind of hesitancy. He drummed his fingers lightly on the edge of the counter, never breaking eye contact, then he shoved himself from the counter and slowly inched the stool he was sitting on towards her. She didn't know why until he stopped a foot or so from the table, and his voice was soft when he spoke. Or as soft as he could sound and still be audible to her, which he wouldn't have been if he'd stayed where he was. "I would never think less of you, Your Highness. What you did was a show of mercy and bravery, and if anything I admire you for it. I would expect nothing else from you."

"I said an honest answer, not flattery," Rosa said, feeling herself starting to tear up. She reached up to wipe them away. "But regardless, thank you, Henri."

"I gave you the most honest answer I could," Henri told her, and had he not been a more refined gentleman he probably would have rolled his eyes. But even though he gave her a reassuring smile, he sounded completely serious. He shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, carefully rolling up the sleeve with the bloodstain, and carefully threw it over her as he said, "Now, please get some rest, Your Highness."

Rosa pulled the jacket over her, giving him a grateful look, and nodded. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing until she finally drifted off to sleep.

1930hrs.

Avril wasn't a miracle worker, regardless of what everyone seemed to think. If there was a way she could have just snapped her fingers and made a plane she would, but she couldn't. And she hated that. They needed one…more than one, actually, they needed several if the states of their squadrons was any indication. If she could just materialize a plane out of thin air it would have solved at least one of their problems.

Somehow she'd found her way up to the deck of the ship, occupying her time watching the aircraft come and go. Most of the ones leaving and coming back were helicopters getting their injured ground troops away from the battle, accompanied only by a few fighters offering cover. Anyone with a damaged plane was promptly grounded and sent down to sick bay, while they asked for a few of the ones that could still fly to help cover their withdrawal, and of course Tabloid volunteered to help out as soon as he found out Trigger wasn't going to be any good to them. The way she heard it, though, those two drones lost interest not long after Trigger left, so having people covering the medevacs was mostly a precaution.

So far, they hadn't had any pilot casualties. Aircraft was a different story, and when you considered their material losses they were down quite a few pilots. They were all alive, but their planes would need some work, and physically she was thinking they'd taken a bit of a beating. Count's plane probably looked the worst off, though physically he seemed alright, which was a lucky break. Avril was starting to become more and more convinced Tabloid was right about Trigger's luck…everyone in the air was still alive, albeit scraped up.

The same couldn't be said for the guys on the ground, and definitely not for Trigger's father. Avril had wished she had been able to do more for them all. Georg's leg was practically crushed, and it'd be a miracle if they could set it without surgery…it would be even more of a miracle if he didn't have a limp for the rest of his life. Then there was Foulke. She wasn't sure if she had cared that much as a person, but she definitely cared about him as her friend's father, and seeing what happened to him and not being able to do anything about it was something she hadn't expected to hurt so much. She had told Trigger he was fine. Whether or not that was a lie remained to be seen.

Trigger had looked like a mess when Avril had seen her. Her eyes and her face had been red and she had a sneaking suspicion she'd been crying before they showed up. Even when Avril first met her she was…an odd person. She smiled every chance she could, she made stupid jokes and laughed at them, she was a complete and total dumbass, so to see her reach any kind of breaking point was hard. It started with her going ballistic on that brigadier general, then blowing up on the Princess, and now, finally, going off the edge over what had happened to her father. And probably over Count nearly getting himself killed, too, judging from the way he had dodged it when Avril had asked how she was. Avril couldn't blame her. Losing a parent was awful.

She had thought about going down and checking on her, but she'd never been good at handling medical stuff. Watching so many of her grandfather's buddies go in and out of the hospital for the last years of their life before her grandfather started down the same way had made a lasting impact. Besides, Count had that covered as soon as they'd found someone else to take over on the radio for him. And Trigger would bounce back in no time. Or at least, that's what she told herself to keep from worrying. So Avril was content to wait for Tabloid to come back while she tried to figure out what to do.

The deck was actually pretty quiet, most everyone gathering to try and find some food to eat or somewhere to rest if they weren't working, but Avril was pretty sure they weren't gonna find much. Which is why she hadn't gone trying to poke around the place. She wanted to wait on her friend, for one, and she was pretty sure that none of the planes down in that hangar were going to do her any good. She wasn't the only one up there for fresh air, though, since a few of the pilots and ground troops had come up for some fresh air as well. One person in particular, the only one that Avril was actually familiar with, was Kathryn.

She'd been there since before Avril decided to come up, just staring out at the ocean the whole time. There wasn't any kind of expression on the woman's face. She just stared blankly out at it, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers and giving no indication that she was content or miserable…she might have looked a bit tired, but that was it. Avril looked her way every so often, when she decided to take her eyes off the sky. For the last thirty minutes the two hadn't said a word, and Kathryn acted like she didn't even notice her. Then she turned around and gave her a tired smile.

"Something on your mind?" Kathryn asked her, raising her voice a bit so that Avril could hear her from where she stood. Avril blinked, a bit surprised she'd said something, and Kathryn gave her a bit of a sheepish look. "Sorry. Just noticed that you've been standing out here for a while.

Avril sighed, pulling her crossed arms closer to her chest as a chilly breeze blew past. "I'm waiting for the rest of them to get back."

"Ah, right." Kathryn turned around so she was facing the runway part of the deck, squinting a bit at the darkening sky. "I forgot that Tabloid had gone back out there."

Avril shifted a bit, swallowing and hoping she didn't look as embarrassed by the comment as she felt. Instead, she quickly changed the subject. "Why didn't you go back up?"

"We volunteered to go up, but they said to stay here. Last line of defense for the carrier, I guess, since most of us are here," Kathryn said, shrugging a bit. She shoved her hands into the pocket of her flight jacket, stretching out her back and taking a breath of the sea air in. "I don't really mind, I guess. We were pretty beat. I mean, not all of us are young like Naomi and most of her wingmen." She let out a light chuckle. "Hell, I'm only a few years older than you. Bet that sounds ridiculous."

"Nah, not really. My dad was about your age when he died and he'd started slowing down before that," Avril said. It was true, though. A lot of people had the idea that pilots just sat there and moved a stick around, maybe pressed a few buttons, but there was a reason there were so many physical requirements for being a pilot. She might have considered herself a pilot before all of this went down, but flying as a hobby to forget your problems was a far cry from fighting in combat. Especially on the scale these guys were fighting on. Before Kathryn could ask her some deeply personal question, Avril again changed the subject. "You've been fighting since the last war, right? What was that like?"

"Honestly? Nothing compared to this," Kathryn said, blowing out a breath. Her expression had gone blank again. She sounded almost sad when she spoke. "You probably don't know this, but it felt like the world was gonna come to an end back then, too. This is something else, though." She sighed. "The space elevator was supposed to be a symbol of hope and unity, but it's probably the opposite by now, huh?"

Avril paused for a moment. She thought back to the murals she'd seen, including the one the Princess had been looking at before bolting into the maintenance area. 'Skies Unknown' was the title of it, and like the one back at the support facility it had a bunch of space elevators painted in the background. A vision of what it should have been, if not a bit idealistic. It had made Avril think a bit, though. She hadn't really cared much about it, mainly because she hadn't really cared much about Harling, and maybe she still didn't care. But it was clear it had been twisted by people looking for a fight. It was also what brought them all together again.

"I don't think so," Avril said at last, and Kathryn gave her a surprised and curious look. She went on. "The space elevator is the whole reason that we're here. It may have started the war, but…it brought us pretty close to ending it, too." She snorted, but nothing about the situation was funny. "Still, now we're stuck here and running out of time. I don't even know how I'm gonna get some of these guys flying again…unless you've got some naval aviators hiding around here somewhere."

"No, I don't. Not technically, anyways." Kathryn went quiet for a few minutes, and Avril didn't have anything else to say, so they were both standing in silence for a while. Once they'd finally settled back into that, though, Kathryn spoke up again. "Do you know about the guy that this ship was named after?"

Avril hadn't really expected that. "The Admiral Andersen?" She raised a brow, the question mostly rhetorical, and Kathryn nodded. She'd read about the ship in the military magazines she'd kept up to date on, but she'd only skimmed the article. Still, she remembered the name when she saw it on the ship earlier. "It was the name of an old sailor, right?"

"Yup. Well, he's a bit more than that, but yeah. Osea wanted their newest line of carriers to be named after naval heroes, and they christened the first one after him once they'd heard he passed," Kathryn said, seeming even more sad than when she'd brought up the last war. "Did you ever hear about the guy?"

"Just that he was the captain of the Kestrel during the last war," Avril said with a small shrug. "And that his ship managed to launch off some fighters before it sank, or something like that. Why?"

"The squadron he launched were the ones that ended the war. Even though his ship was sinking he was bound and determined to get them in the air, no matter what it took," Kathryn explained, taking in a shaky breath. Avril was too far away to tell, but she might have been tearing up a little. She put on a faint smile, though. "I'm pretty sure the deck was slipping so bad the last plane barely made it off, but he got them in the air. And quoted saying that their safety was his victory, whether he lost his ship or not." She sighed and shook her head a bit. "Up till he died he never considered himself a hero or a mighty sailor, though."

Avril couldn't help but smile a bit at the story, but it was only the hint of one. She narrowed her eyes on Kathryn. "You talk about it like you were there."

Kathryn looked at her with a bit of a glint in her eyes, though again that might have been from her tearing up. She chuckled, but carefully dodged the question. "Point is, things looked bad but it all worked out in the end," she said. "They ended the war…granted, they were up against real people, not killer drones…"

"But it's still a hopeful story," Avril pointed out. The mental image alone was enough to give her chills. She let out a small laugh. "The odds were stacked against them, too, I guess."

"And we've got a few good things going for us," Kathryn said with a shrug of her own, making her way over to the door to go back inside. At first Avril thought she was talking about Trigger and the others, but there was something…cheeky to the way she'd said it that made Avril stop her once she reached her. She opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, but Kathryn answered her before she could say anything. "Go check out the hangar bays when your friend comes back. If memory serves me, they loaded this thing to the rafters with planes."

"Wait, are you serious?" Avril asked her. "Not just navy fighters, right?"

"From my understanding they were trying to deliver them to allied bases," Kathryn said. How or why she knew this, Avril didn't know. Maybe she just kept up to date about the news, maybe she'd heard it second hand, or maybe she'd gone down and looked for herself, but she seemed confident. "That didn't happen, but…it makes your job a little easier, doesn't it? Guess it worked out that way for a reason."

Avril watched her give a smile and a two finger salute before she continued on her way. She was arguably just as weird as Trigger was, just in a completely different way, but Avril wasn't about to complain. She actually started to think it had been silly to give up and assume there wasn't anything down there. Spare parts or anything else. The air force may work with the navy often, but that didn't mean they made it a habit of having extra planes lying around, at least not the way Avril saw it. Kathryn evidently knew better.

No changing that now, though. She shook her head as Kathryn disappeared from view, turning her attention back out towards the skies. Knowing there was something for her to work with made things a lot easier for her, and the story gave her a bit of hope. One way or another, they'd get out of it. As long as she could get Trigger and the others in the air, then they stood a fair chance. Like it or not, they were stuck together. They had to do what they had to do.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of jet engines over the sound of helicopter rotors, and the roar became deafening as the aircraft shot past the carrier. Avril watched them go, the few people on deck running to get out of the way or do whatever else they were tasked to do. After the helicopters made their landing, out of anyone's way and shutting down one by one after the people aboard were moved off, the fighters made their landing. The Su-30s of Sol Squadron followed by Tabloid's F-15C. They all landed without incident.

Slowly, Avril began to limp across the deck, heading for where Tabloid's plane was taxiing. She waited as the Eagle was parked alongside the rest of the damaged aircraft from Cyclops Squadron, the only plane still in commission out of the four of them. The plane was unharmed, and thankfully, from the look of things, so was Tabloid. She waited, watching as he clambered out of his plane, slowly dropping himself to the ground with his helmet in hand. He looked exhausted, probably the closest to depressed she'd seen him in a while, but as soon as he saw her he put on his usual dumb smile and made his way towards her. Avril began to limp towards him as well.

Once they were a few steps away and within earshot, Tabloid greeted her. "Hey." He sounded horrible, his voice a bit scratchy. Avril hadn't actually been able to see him before he'd taken off again, which meant she hadn't seen him since she left Tyler Island. He looked like a mess, covered in sweat and looking more disheveled than she'd seen him in a while. But he was alive, and acting like he was fine. His smile turned up a bit more. "Long time no see, eh?"

Avril finally reached him, giving him a smirk and rolling her eyes before she took a breath and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. The abrupt hug knocked the breath out of him, and although she squeezed him tightly he didn't return it right away, instead gently placing his free arm around her and letting out a nervous laugh. "Hey, are you alright?"

She squeezed him a bit tighter, not wanting to let him go. "I'm glad you're back."

The next thing she heard was his helmet fall to the ground as he wrapped both arms around her, returning the hug.

Author's Note: OKAY so I split this chapter in half because otherwise it would have been a 24k monstrosity and I'm trying to calm down a little. So new plan! There's now three chapters (including this one) before Dark Blue/Hush. But still four overall left to write and publish...goodness that still doesn't feel real. It's gonna make the story cut off at kind of a funky number but I'll live with it so I don't feel like the chapters are being bogged down because I crammed a billion scenes together.

And y'all get two new chapters instead of one terrifyingly large one. Win-win!