Here is the long-awaited Chapter 4! Really sorry for keeping you guys waiting- COVID-19 has been kicking my ass at work and home, so I've had to use my time sparingly on this, but seeing all your comments and support has REALLY inspired me to just crack on, so I thank all of you for that! I'll try and get the next chapter out to you as soon as possible.
Enjoy the read!
Prologue
Chapter IV - 'Choices'
~ Benik
Suicide.
That was the word to perfectly sum up Hoffman's Hivebuster programme. It was one thing having to play an infiltrator with high stakes, but to willingly get abducted by the Swarm just for a slim chance to turn their hive into a charnel house seemed like a mission nigh-impossible. But as Benik listened more and more, he began to ponder...Hadley's Gorge was his home turf; his family homestead only a handful of miles away from the old mine.
He'd heard rumours of how those that were podded found themselves wired into the Swarm hivemind- kinda like plugging a device into a router via ethernet. Benik's lip twinged, cursing himself for such a ridiculous comparison, but he understood his own point of thought regardless. If it was true, they were able to glimpse into the eyes of the Swarm, access their memories; an ugly bleed into their own mind from the enemy. It was a long shot. Most likely to be a misfire.
But maybe, just maybe...he could finally get the answers he so painfully sought.
But was this really a choice he found himself willing to make? He didn't have much less to lose; no family; no home; no squad of brothers...all he had left was the Lancer in his hands, clothes on his back and his beating heart. Usually such a fleeting concept of a life with nothing of possession within it wouldn't stop him from making any kind of decision, but for some reason, he couldn't find himself the energy to step forward and make the choice.
From the silence in the assembly...even after the magic rousing speech of Hoffman, Benik wasn't so sure this programme was going to even take off. Hope was beginning to sound more and more like a pipe dream as the silence reigned on, the grim resignation of the hundred other Gears spelling just how well and truly fucked the situation had become. He looked over his shoulder faintly to see his eyes meet Gorchev's; the ostri Gear gave him a sombre nod, his folded lips and heavy stare painting a thousand pictures without a word needing to be said.
'Fuck. And here I thought the old Indie bastard was unshakeable.' He morosely thought. He didn't need to look at Alvarez- he could practically feel her building up a sweat in apprehension. But the one person he dared not look at was Carmine...she'd been looking for some source of hope for weeks, now. And whilst Alvarez and Gorchev were able to be rocks for her in her time of need, he couldn't bear to see how much this sad scene was weighing down on her. She needed something to hold out for...not a hero or a saviour,- god, he knew that much about her,- but she wanted a future to fight for.
Yet that future seemed to be uncertain, and he could see her looking around in the corner of his eye. Benik felt the urge to place a hand upon her shoulder, yet again, only this time, the idea didn't seem too cringey or ludicrous.
But then, a noise broke the silence. The familiar footfalls of COG-issue combat boots drummed on the deck as a Gear removed his helmet to step forwards, meeting the podium with sharp eyes and a crisp salute.
"Captain Abraham Soren, Charlie-5. Sign me up, sir." The immediate transition from silence to raucous applause was almost deafening, almost as surprising to Benik as the fact someone actually volunteered for the suicide mission. He watched Soren be called onto the stage, and was even more stunned when corporal Regina Blake rose from her front row seat to join Soren. Benik could hear the palms of Alvarez clapping together, the rising morale already reaching the kashkuri markswoman. He folded his arms back across his chest, and allowed himself a fleeting smile.
It truly was incredible at how the bravery of one man can suddenly inspire the choices to be made by other people. And right now, at this moment, Benik found himself thinking he'll soon be ready to make his choice.
He had no reservations for young private Patel when he declared he'd join the programme, though it was fairly obvious his squad had other thoughts. End of the day, the kid was his own man, and he made this choice. For whatever reason, Benik couldn't care, but regardless, the recruit had a lot of bollocks...and he'd be lying if he didn't find that downright inspiring. Now he just hoped the lad had what it took to realise just what he had gotten himself into.
But then...he saw one of the NCOG marines step forwards. Instantly, Benik felt some sort of misplaced pride burn in his chest.
'No fucking way…' He silently huffed with a smile, and the instant marine Jackson Yarez declared he was to be the fourth Hivebuster, Benik didn't give the slightest shit that he joined in the applause. He grew up on the stories told by his dad of how the NCOG were a whole different breed of soldier; indefatigable, brash, but selfless and elite in almost every way and notion imaginable. Seeing that man renounce his duty for a greater purpose, no matter the risk, was enough to almost bring that damp feeling back to the rear of his eyes.
'If only you could see this, dad...you'd be so proud.' However, as the silence fell once more, the uncertainty had begun to regain its place; one of the Hivebuster slots was open, and a fifth man hadn't answered the call. Yet, when he looked to his right, he felt his heartbeat begin to quicken.
Lizzie had a certain look in her eye. One he knew anywhere and everywhere...it was the look of rationality about to be thrown into the wind. She was about to make her choice, but for what he couldn't understand...she never was one of undertaking high-risk situations, and her sense of self-preservation was undoubtedly more level-headed than most Gears he knew. It was only when he faintly followed her gaze to see she was making eye contact with Clayton did he begin to understand it all.
'Liz...you don't have to prove yourself like this.' Is all he could hear himself think in his head, over and over. He understood she wanted to live up to the stories of her uncles...but the idea she was willing to die for such a small thing that could be done almost anywhere else with far less of the certainty of death was something he couldn't get to grips with. He couldn't sit idly by and let her throw her life away. He couldn't understand why he felt like this.
'We all have choices to make...I failed you once, already, dad. I failed my squad. I'm sure as hell not going to fail you, either, Liz.'
His choice was made, and it was his turn to be irrational. He unfolded his arms, and stepped forwards- the words of Gorchev and Alvarez already hitting his ears.
"No. Wait, -no-!"
"What're yo-"
He didn't turn back. As the eyes of the assembly focused on him, Benik realised there was no going back, now. He'd made this choice, not only for revenge and answers. He'd made it to save the one person he was beginning to believe had left to care about.
"Private Benik Thorne. Echo-4. It's time I went home."
The applause was final, climatic, and yet Benik didn't feel any semblance of heroism inside himself. He sure as hell couldn't hear the rest of Echo-4 join in. As he took his steps towards the podium, he felt a set of fingers idly graze his elbow. As he looked back over his shoulder, he saw the retreating hand of Lizzie, paired with an incredulous look of shock plastered upon her face. And for some reason, he felt guilty...he felt upset.
'Why...do I feel like this around her?' He couldn't stop the invasive thought from dominating his mind's thinking, but it didn't stop his feet from moving towards the stage in any single way.
As he came to a stand atop the stage amidst the rest of the volunteers, Benik raised his head, but didn't look at a single face or helmet in the crowd, disassociating himself entirely as he mentally weighed the gravity on what he had just done.
The rest of the assembly passed like a blur; was it ten minutes? Thirty minutes? A couple hours? He didn't know. Nor did he care. All he did was absorb the key details of what came next.
The date and time of this merry little suicide squad's gathering for a debrief, and most importantly, when the fight began.
As the assembly came to a close and the garrison was dismissed, Benik chanced a glance at Echo-4, and immediately regretted meeting the piercing stares of Alvarez and Gorchev. But what stung more was the persistent look of fret upon Lizzie's face. Clenching his jaw, he made no small measure of hurry to funnel out of the opening hangar doors, readying himself for the verbal flaying he was about to receive.
~ Lizzie
~ 6 minutes prior
She wasn't quite sure how she felt. She'd been in plenty of scraps, brawls and uncomfortable situations, before, but this? Benik's volunteering was a blow that took her low and off guard- mentally sweeping her off her feet only to leave her suspended in the air and dreading the inevitable fall into the ground.
She wasn't angry; far from it. If any other Gear had suddenly nutted up before she did, then she would've been a tad pissed at stealing her chance to overcome herself...but this? She didn't expect this.
She didn't want this.
She was ready to shoulder the wrath of Alvarez, Gorchev and maybe even Benik for stepping forwards, herself, but never would she have been prepared for this sudden gunshot to her heart. The rare, awkward moments Lizzie and he spent together were fleeting, socially-forced and incredulously unlikely...but they were warm and genuine. He was warm and genuine. She couldn't place why she was cherishing these memories all of a sudden; was it perhaps the realisation that he may now be slipping away?
Benik begins to step forwards- away from her. Lizzie's hand goes into inertia, and reaches out. She wanted to grab his arm, look him in the eye. Refuse to let him go. This choice he was making, whatever it was, she didn't want to see it through. But then the past hour came flooding back to her…
The grim looks; the stray tear; how he looked unmoved by the footage of the Swarm...it was all piecing together inside her head. The mystery of Benik Thorne was slowly coming together. That bitter, emotionless stoicism he constantly wore like a veil? The motive behind it began to seep through.
It was one of vengeance.
And it was this revelation that was enough to cause her hand to stop mid-reach; her calloused fingertips brushing his elbow. He turned, and the two locked eyes. His face bore something she...never could place on him. But he looked resigned. Almost sombre. Lizzie found herself wanting to plead him to stay, but the words never left the pit of her throat, yet at the same time, they continued to look at one another, and it was in those scant few moments of their eyes meeting, alone, that they had begun to understand one another…
And then he was gone. His feet carrying him to the stage amidst the thunderous applause of the assembly praising their fifth hero. Lizzie's arm lost all semblance of weight, and it simply drifted back to her side. She felt the acrid, burning dampness well behind her eyes, paired with the thick, acidic lump of clay bulging in her throat.
She feels Ellen's warm hand squeeze her shoulder, yet even as she looked to her friend's morbid smile, the heat of her gestures did nothing to thaw the chill in Lizzie's heart.
She watched Benik assume the DeeBee mode that her and Echo joked about; his voidness of emotion and persistent stiffness,- prime soldier motions as he ascended the stage and shook the hands of Valker and Hoffman without any hint of enthusiasm, and he moved to stand in line with the other four Hivebusters.
"Gears. Meet Fireteam Cerberus." Hoffman motioned to the rag-tag suicide squad.
The rest of the assembly was over in a handful of minutes. The plan was simple; Fireteam Cerberus was to debrief at CIC tomorrow whilst the rest of the garrison began to mobilise the day after that. Hoffman came to a final decision that the assault would take place in the evening of three days from now.
Three days.
And then she'll be at war for the very first time in her life.
Lizzie let out a heavy sigh- she couldn't quite calm her rapidly-beating heart. She went into autopilot, gave Hoffman and Valker the final salute alongside her hundred-plus brothers and sisters, and then winced as the hangar doors began to grind open, letting in the harsh Seran sunlight. She watched Hoffman exchange a few final inaudible words with the hivebusters- impossible to hear over the now rising buzz of chitchat amongst the Gears, but she didn't miss the fact that Benik made a beeline for the exit the moment he was dismissed. Her eyes followed him to the door until he disappeared amongst the crowd of Gears- though the occasional woop and cheery tone was enough to give away he was being idolised by some of the garrison he passed by.
This whole assembly had been a crass menagerie of revelations, horrifying truths and a deadline for war; Lizzie really wished she didn't get out of bed, today, as much as she resents her lazy ass for such a thought. Turning around, she looks upon Ellen and Gorchev to find the former glaring acidic daggers at the populated doors, whilst the latter had a usual face of granite. Ellen shook her head with bulging, pursed lips, before she started making her way to the exit, Gorchev in tow.
"C'mon. Gonna rip that boy's head out his arsehole." She bore the tone of a mother about to scald a child, and whilst Lizzie initially turned to follow her squadmates, she found herself anchored in place. After the past couple weeks of consistent nightmares, daydreams and calamities that mentally thrashed her, now was the time she needed to talk to someone.
"Actually, guys...I'm gonna hang back, awhile. I need a minute." She sheepishly says. When Ellen turned to face her, Lizzie saw her friend's face had already softened.
Lizzie turned her head indicatively towards Clayton, who was currently by the podium rummaging through the variety of cables that helped orchestrate the assembly's microphone, before back to Ellen. The kashkuri took a few steps forward, and wrapped her arms around Lizzie in a warm embrace.
"A'ight, luv. We'll see you in the usual spot. Chin up, mh?"
Lizzie reciprocated the warm hug, and as she pulled away, lightly butted her forehead against hers.
"Just...please, El...go easy on him."
Gorchev stepped in, lightly placing a gruff hand on her shoulder.
"I'll be standing by to make sure they don't kill each other...but we need to talk about this, Elizabeth. All of us. This is...what Nik has done is serious."
Serious was putting it lightly. But regardless, this was something she would tackle later, even if she'd be arriving to the proverbial party unfashionably late. Without another word, she simply nods to her squaddies with a faint smile, before turning on her heels to head towards Uncle Clay.
Given how the assembly was still funneling out, Lizzie took the initiative to simply wait by a row of chairs, alternating her eyes between Clayton's thankless task of unplugging, arranging and then winding up each wire and the few stratas of Gears still making their exit. Valker and Hoffman were long gone, at this point,- the major personally opting to wheel the colonel out himself; most likely to have a talk regarding the upcoming assault; fuck, this whole debacle made her head spin.
Another handful of minutes later, the hangar was empty. It had yet been given the all-clear for the bustling crews to return, and all that could be seen and heard all around was a wide open space of creaking mechanisms and dormant war engines. But this was the only chance she would have to speak to her uncle between now and the assault; no doubt he'll be spearheading the briefing. Inhaling softly, she holds in her breath, before taking the precious steps to meet her uncle.
He'd removed his helmet and placed it on the stage, and as she got closer, she got the faintest scent of the cheap cologne he always wore merged with a tang of body odour. Seems he's been busy, lately…
"Uncle Clay." She piped up, not too enthusiastic, but not neutral. The fact he didn't turn to her greeting made her stomach turn. Biting her lip, she scratched the nape of her neck as she scrubbed her brain for words that didn't come off as lame small talk.
'Fucking hell, Liz, this is your uncle! Why're you struggling to talk to him? Oh yeah, 'cos you know you fucked up.' Her pervasive thoughts rampaged through her skull, and she came to a quick conclusion that there was no easy way to discuss this. Sighing the breath she felt like she'd been holding forever, her shoulders slumped.
"Uncle…" she began again, this time sombre and heavy. This garnered Clayton to set down the wires, and look over his shoulder to meet Lizzie's own; it was harsh, stoney and weighted. As he rose to his feet to meet her face-to-face, she felt herself stupidly intimidated before him.
"...I need to talk to you."
"What, about the nightmares? Your sleeping-in? Daydreaming in the motor pool on shift and nearly crushing yourself under a packhorse?" Clay immediately cut in. The words weren't scalding or venomous, in fact far from it. There was evident concern in his tone, despite the gravelly expression and raised eyebrow. Liz's mouth hung open for a moment, before it ultimately shut.
"Dizzy told you." It wasn't a question, but a mere statement from Lizzie. Clayton pulled a face of incredulousness, like he was irritated by the idea such a possibility couldn't exist.
"Yes, Dizzy told me, Lizzie. Me and Danny've been serving alongside Diz for like...nearly forty fuckin' years. Of course he's gonna tell me if my niece has gone to absolute shit over a handful of weeks. Just be thankful your dad isn't in the loop about this, otherwise -both- our asses would be getting branded." Lizzie's heart dropped. She was positive her dad knew about her recent dilemmas and was just awaiting a reaming from Pa, but the truth that Dizzy had kept this information specifically away from Daniel Carmine was enough to set her even more on edge- the idea of him finding out was killing her more than the fact Clayton has been aware since day one of her confiding in Dizzy.
"Or, would ya like to talk about how you almost walked yourself into a one-way ticket into a Swarm hive?" The words cut through her like a knife through butter- Clayton was pissed about that part...and he sure as hell wasn't hiding it. Lizzie's eyes dropped to the concrete, unable to face her uncle's chastising glare.
"Oh. Yeah, I-"
"Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking, Elizabeth?" He interjects, brows furrowed and meaty arms crossed over his breastplate.
"I dunno, I…"
"I knew it. The moment I saw that look on your face, I knew exactly what that impulsiveness of yours was gonna get you into. Can't thank Thorne enough for stepping forwards before you." Clay crassly said as he turned back to the wires. Those words monumentally stung Lizzie, causing her mouth to drop again.
"Hey, that isn't fa-" Clay immediately turned from the wires once more, a thick finger pointing at Lizzie.
"Don't you dare say 'fair', Lizzie. Fairness ain't got shit to do with this. How am I supposed to protect you if you're just gonna sign yourself up for every suicide mission?" Clayton's barrage had her nailed on the spot, unable to drag up the words to reason with her livid uncle. Clay waited with irate patience, gesturing for an answer.
"What's going on, Liz? Are you that desperate to prove yourself? To your Pa? To prove him wrong about you joining the COG?"
It was those words that sparked an indignant flame in Lizzie. As much as she loved her dad, she truly didn't give a shit if he believed her ready or not; it wasn't him she was needing to appease to.
"Who the fuck am I proving myself to?! No-one! I ain't like one of those starry-eyed greenies straight out of boot looking for shiny medals to feel like somebody. I've been in the machine since I was eighteen! I've fought Outsiders, served my people. I don't have to prove shit to anyone, I ain't like Uncle Ben! I ain-" The words left her mouth before she even registered them in her brain, leaving her mouth agape staring at Clay, whose jaw had visibly clenched with flared nostrils to boot.
Suddenly, she felt like the most cardinal sinner on the face of Sera,- the breath leaving her lungs as her forehead sank into her palm whilst her voice returned to equilibrium. She may not have thought this a handful of seconds ago, but thank god the two of them were alone in this hangar.
"Fuck, uncle...I'm sorry, I-I didn't mea-" Her apology was halted by a firm grunt and raised palm of Clay, as he seemingly swallowed down whatever brutal reckoning he had planned for her. His own voice was level and calm, but firm.
"No, no. I'll give you that one. You ain't like him in that sense. Benjamin was the kid of us four. We never wanted him to join the COG; he was too much of a soft kid, I mean- the squirt used to put spiders out of the house rather than kill 'em." The two shared a fleeting, sad chuckle. Lizzie could see the faint gloss brew in Clay's eyes as he looked to the ceiling. "When Anthony died...me and Danny doubled on our efforts to sway him from enlisting. And he wanted to prove us wrong. The day he was eligible, he just...signed on up without telling us until he'd completed basic." Clay sighed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, letting his rear slump onto the stage. "So, no Liz, you ain't like Benjamin in that sense. You share one of his more fatal traits. The need to prove himself for himself. Ben hid his inexperience behind false bravado and aggressive recklessness. And it was that shit right there? That got him killed. He wore the same look you had that exact moment you nearly signed yourself up for the Hivebuster programme." He levelled a screwdriver plucked from the toolbox at Lizzie. "And fucking hell take these old bones of mine if I don't intervene this time around. I love you, Elizabeth. Your dad loves you. I ain't letting these fuckers claim another Carmine because of a lapse in judgement." Finished with his piece, he lowers his head, and carries on tangling with the wires.
Lizzie just...stands there, processing the words over and over. Clay was right; the nightmares, the daydreams of her failing over and over? She's been spending the past few weeks continuously doubting herself, and she hated being so transparent in her efforts to mask it.
"I'm...ready, uncle. Fuck, I've been ready for this day for so long." She almost pleaded- looking at Clay with sad eyes, which rewarded her with a melancholy huff and half-smile.
"You don't think I'm aware of that? Liz, I knew your dad never wanted you to enlist. And I knew that wasn't gonna stop you; why do you think I've spent so long watching over you, guiding you; pulling the right strings to get you to meet Fenix and Walker?" The questions he gave her were completely rhetorical, Lizzie was wholly aware of that. She kept silent, as she knew Clay was right from the get-go. "I'm annoyed at you, because I've already assigned you to join me on the spearhead for the assault."
Lizzie's eyes widened, and she stared at her uncle with bewildered blankness, which caused Clayton's smile to broaden. He stood to his feet, and softly took her hand in his own; dwarfing it within his palm.
"You are ready, Elizabeth. You and I are gonna win this war. Together. We're Carmines, and what do we do?" He asked softly. Rolling her tongue along her lips, she silently muttered:
"Carmines don't quit…"
"I can't hear you." Clay said plainly.
"Carmines don't quit." She repeated, louder and more assured, looking Clay in the eyes. He nodded with a sad smile.
"Damn right, we don't. You're gonna make Anthony and Benjamin so proud...your Ma, too." Lizzie felt the familiar burning of tears begin to well in her eyes, but such a moment like this didn't deserve to be sullied with tears. It's time she earned her surname. She broke out into a soft smile, but again, for some reason, it fleeted.
A deathly silence fell between the two. Clay watched and read his niece's face and the picture it painted, before he broke the gentle silence.
"You were gonna say that wasn't fair. What wasn't?" He asked softly, but Lizzie already knew that he was wholly aware of what she was referring to. She couldn't bring herself to look her uncle in the eye, again, and so Clay once again bridged across the quiet. "It's Thorne, isn't it? You ain't pissed he took your opportunity to shine; you're pissed it was him who signed up, full-stop."
"...he shouldn't have done that. He should've -talked- to us; to me." She quietly replied back, withdrawing her hand from Clay's and lacing her fingers together in front of her pelvis. Clay rolled his jaw, mulling his next words with great care.
"Liz...I've read his file. This is...something he's expected to do. It's kinda what Valker and Hoffman were hoping for, actually." Unfortunately for Clay, these words proved to be a bad choice, as Lizzie glared at him with abject shock and confused...heartbreak?
'Expected?! The fuck does that mean?!' Her thoughts screamed in her head like a raging maelstrom. None of this added up. He was a regular Gear before the Swarm began to rise, now all of a sudden he's being regarded as this secret commando.
"Why?! Why him? It doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't be him, for god's sake i-"
"Lizzie." Clay interjected firmly, placing both hands on his shoulders. His anchor-like presence stopped her confusing ranting short, and she looked at Clay with teary eyes.
"...I...don't want him to go, uncle...I want to know why…" She whimpered.
Clayton placed the look on her face- the emotion that tagged along with it in it's painful, yet beautiful rarity. He sighed, and softly cupped her cheek.
"He's your squadmate, Lizzie. Ask him. Otherwise...you may regret never doing it." Despite the words of reassurance he offered her, Lizzie couldn't help but feel the same unease the moment Benik stepped forwards for the programme. What infuriated her more was that she couldn't understand why it affected her so. Sure, if Gorchev or Alvarez stepped forwards, she'd be enraged and upset. But with Benik? She was heartbroken. And she couldn't understand why…
All she could do was nod at Clay, who returned the gesture, and pulled her into a soft, warm embrace.
"C'mon. I gotta finish up here, then report to CIC. You've got somewhere to be, as well." He softly hushed into her ear. They shared the tender moment for a while, before they both pulled back. With a stabilising sniffle, Lizzie idly wiped away the tears that escaped down her cheeks, and gave her uncle a sure smile.
"Thanks, uncle. I'll...see you soon? Before we ship out?" She pursed her lips, to which Clay silently nodded.
"Yeah. You know where to find me."
As Lizzie turned on her heels to leave, his voice called her name to her, once more, causing her to turn back to face him.
"Be honest with him. And maybe he'll give you the same courtesy." He gave her a knowing, sombre look. The only issue is she had no idea what the 'knowing' part was. Silently nodding, Lizzie turned for the hangar doors to make her exit- stepping back out into the Seran sunlight and making her way to Echo-4's usual leisure spot.
~ 11 minutes later
The walk across the garrison was much like most of her walks the past few weeks: empty of thinking, head down and just focusing on walking the same beaten path she'd known for a good couple years since she came to Tyro Garrison. She passed the doorway back into the main complex from whence she came, and even passed the motor pool. She gave it an idle glance as she passed, lip quirking.
'Should see if I can steal a shift. Getting my hands and hair greasy always helps take my mind off shit.' Lizzie mused silently to herself.
When she finally came to the leisure block did she see through the sprawling windows that was where most of the garrison had vanished to. The gym was practically full and the recreation hall was in a similar state of overpopulation- a couple of Gears were even waiting their turn for the games console. Huffing thankfully, she pushed through the doors that took her from the outside into the corridor and let her memory guide her to the library, or as the garrison called it, 'the mausoleum', given how it was never filled with more than 6 people at one time, on a good day. 4 of those were always Lizzie and Echo-4. As such, they'd claimed the 'mausoleum' as their personal area to chill outside of their own bunks and rooms; something that the rest of the garrison had grown to respect. Everyone needed their down time and privacy.
But it seemed privacy was out of question. As Lizzie got closer to the doors that lead into the 'mausoleum', she could already hear the muffled, verberating voices screaming from the other side of the doors. It was evident there were two voices at play. Seventy-five percent of it was Ellen, the rest was Benik. Every step that brought her closer allowed Lizzie to better understand the volatility of the words being thrown; there was anger and a LOT of swearing.
Coming to the door, she gently grasped the handle and closed her eyes to brace for the storm. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pushes the door open, and is quick to shut it behind her the moment Ellen's shouting hits her ears.
"-o the fuck do you think you are?! We're a squad, Benik, we don't do this shit to each other!" Ellen balefully roared. Not a single member of Echo turned to acknowledge Lizzie's arrival aside from Gorchev, who simply spared her a glance for a fleeting moment before he returned to staring at some imaginary line between the two verbal combatants.
Ellen was pacing back and forth, expressively using her arms with every curse she threw out whilst Benik was reclined against a drawer with his arms folded.
"You going to say something, Thorne? Or you just gonna stay all frozen like that?! All semblance of guilt or conscience abso-fucking-lutely voided from your head, eh?!" Ellen barked challengingly. Benik smacked his lips, not making eye contact. His own voice was laced with venom- it was obvious he'd raised his own temper a few times.
"What's the bloody point. You can't change my mind, Alvarez, you know that as much as anyone." He coldly retorted, earning him a scoff from the kashkuri.
"The bloody point I'm looking for is WHY. You've given us absolutely nothing to go off aside from the fact you have a death wish. Echo-4's lost enough squadmembers as it is. You so damned eager to add your own notch to that list?!"
"Look, I made a choice, Al. I'd have thought you understood that this is above and beyond the whole 'personal concerns' malarkey." He arched a brow. Ellen scoffed mirthlessly once again, pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips.
"Yeah...but that's not exactly the case for you, is it?" She snidely remarked. This provoked Gorchev to look up with his eyes, a stern glare directed at the kashkuri.
"Ellen." He said once, dryly. Lizzie immediately saw the dangerous stare Benik levelled at Alvarez.
"Don't pretend you're doing this for the greater good, you fucking hypocrite. You're so goddamn transparent." Ellen sneered through flared nostrils.
"Ellen, enough." Gorchev warned, which caused Ellen's attention to shift wholly onto the Ostri sergeant.
"What, just because he got his old squad killed doesn't mean he has to so stupidly follow them into the grave!" Gorchev's eyes flared, and was already on his feet. A brief flash passed in the peripheral of Lizzie's eye, and before she could register what it even was:
"You fucking cunt!-" Benik had already darted from his reclined posture,- eyes wide and teeth bared as he lunged for Alvarez. Gorchev intercepted him- standing between Thorne and Alvarez like a brick wall, arms wide either side and grasping onto his punching arm to ensure the smaller Benik couldn't slip past him and land that curled right hook. Alvarez had already recoiled back, her own fist raised as Gorchev fenced off Benik. Tensions had skyrocketed in a heartbeat, and Lizzie couldn't comprehend such a brutal infighting between her friends like this.
"Fucking STOP!" Lizzie cried, her voice cutting into the discordant orchestra of shouting and cursing like a knife through butter. And much to her surprise, all three pairs of Echo-4's eyes swayed onto Lizzie. They drank in the shock, horror and disappointment upon her face, and the simmering blood began to calm. A look of shame and guilt crept onto Ellen's face, and her posture retreated into one of nervous pacing,- a hand clasping over her mouth. Gorchev wore a contemptuous face of grander disappointment. But what broke Lizzie's heart the most was Benik; he wore a fixed scowl, but his jaw was quivering, and his limbs were shaking noticeably; cold daggers bored into Ellen wherever she paced, and as she turned to speak to him, his lips pulled back to bare teeth, once more.
"Benik, I'm so sor-"
"You've done enough, private." Gorchev snapped over his shoulder, which shut her up immediately. Rubbing her chin, Ellen took a seat on the old librarian desk- hiding her eyes from all. Gorchev turned his gaze back to Benik.
"Are we calm?" He asked firmly. Benik was still staring- but he seemed lost in his gaze; whilst his eyes were more or less where Ellen was, he seemed to not even be looking at her. Lizzie found herself lost just...staring at this man she was beginning to understand. It stung monumentally for her to know she was beginning to regret what she was wishing for. All that pain and rage for someone so young.
"Private Thorne. Are. We. Calm?" Gorchev asked again, slower but more firmly. Life returned to Benik's eyes, and he momentarily turned his head to look at Gorchev, before briskly jerking his arm once, freeing himself from Gorchev's barricading grip. The sergeant held up his hands in a defensive manner.
"Easy. Easy, Nik. Just take a moment to-"
"Shut your mouth." Benik coldly droned,- the words were hollow, devoid of hate- of any emotion,- which of course had the intended effect on Gorchev of closing his mouth. The younger man shook his head at the sergeant before chuckling without humour. "You've known, all along. And you still let her say that." Turning around, he snatched his gym bag (which he must've gathered from his bunk before Alvarez dragged him here) and slung it over his shoulder before making a beeline for the door.
"Benik, wait." Ellen began, but Benik didn't stop. "I've lost too many friends, already." This caused Benik to stop and stay still for a moment. He didn't meet Lizzie's gaze, even as she stared forlornly at him.
"We aren't friends." He dryly spat. The empty words burned like acid, and Lizzie registered the coldness that crept onto Ellen's face the moment the blow hit her hard. No more words came from the kashkuri, and Benik continued for the exit, coldly passing by Lizzie.
"Benik-" She silently pleaded, but the man had already pushed his way through the door. Silence took its throne in the library- a defeated sigh leaving Ellen's lips. Folding his arms across his chest, Gorchev stared at her.
"That wasn't very smart, was it?" He chided bitterly. The kashukri simply pulled a cigarette from her pocket and began to light it.
"No. No it bloody well wasn't...guy might be going to his death, and I just filled his mind with that bollocks." She gruffly exhaled, which provoked a frustrated grunt from Lizzie. She needed to speak to him, and now he was slipping away once again, for reasons she still struggled to grasp, her heart only ached more. She felt too drained- too offput to approach him with what had just occurred, but uncle Clay was right. She needed to be honest. It was her turn to make a choice.
"Goddamn it." She quietly hissed, immediately turning for the door, ignoring the concerned looks Gorchev and Alvarez shot her way. As she stepped into the corridor, he gaze frantically moved from left to right, until her cool blue eyes fixed on the shrinking silhouette of Benik moving away down the corridor. Sucking in a lungful of air, she took after him- her roughened boots drumming on the plain vinyl flooring as she quickly closed the gap with her squadmate.
"Benik! Wait!" Her words rolled to-and-fro throughout the corridors, but she saw the figure slow down and come to a stop. A half dozen seconds later, she'd caught up to the Gear, who'd turned sidelong to stare at her.
"I need to talk to you." She said hoarsely- the faint intensity of her breathing to compensate for the mad sprint she just performed. Benik sighed breathlessly, shrugging his shoulder to shift his gym bag into a more comfortable position.
"Not now, Lizzie." He began to turn away, and Lizzie felt her teeth grit.
'No, you fucking don't. You're not walking away, this time.' She inwardly snarled, but on the outside, her hand reached out, grabbing his wrist which anchored him in place.
"No. No...now." Lizzie struggled to comprehend just what the hell she had done, but even as her eyes fixed onto her fingers tentatively closed around his wrist, she controlled her mouth to ensure it stayed shut,- modifying her gaze to be a fleeting, sad stare of determination. As Benik moved his own gaze to look down at his wrist, his eyes followed back up to Lizzie's. Expecting him to simply pull away like he did with Gorchev, her heart began to beat quicker as he simply turned in her grip to face her- his expression was solemn, and withdrawn.
Licking her lips, Lizzie awkwardly removed her hand from his wrist, and brought it back to her side, clearing her throat quietly.
"Well? You hear to give me an earbashing, as well?" He began flatly.
"What? No, I-"
"Because to tell you the truth, Liz, I've just gone through fifteen minutes of it with Ellen."
"Benik, I'm-"
"So, if it's going to be that, just make it qui-"
"Benik!" She sharply interjected, which startled the man slightly, much to her surprise. Gathering herself, she ran her hands through her hair- taking in some sweet, remedying breaths to steady her heart rate and minimalism her fumbling over her words. Staring dumbly into his rich, brown eyes, Lizzie found herself unable to speak; bouncing ever-so lightly on the balls of her feet like a child. Benik waited with great patience, and she could see he was in two minds to leave her in her dumbfounded stupor, or wait an eternity.
'Open your mouth, idiot. Say something. Anything! If he walks away, you're gonna regret this choice of staying silent!' Lizzie screamed in her head, but still no words came to mind and mouth. After seemingly forever, Benik sighed, and shook his head.
"Sorry, Elizabeth. I've gotta go clear my head. See you." He turned on his heels to carry on his original course, but in the spur of the moment, her brain took over. Her body seized up and her voice came out in a quiet, but hurried tone.
"Please don't go." Was all she could muster. But it had the intended effect. Lizzie bit her lip as Benik stopped, and turned again to face her- this time with a bit more flatness in his stare.
"Cat given you your tongue back, now?"
"No...I mean-...please don't go on the mission." She silently pleaded, and she could've sworn his face softened into something akin to yearning- almost like he was partially persuaded. Closing his eyes dismissively, he exhaled.
"I have to." He bluntly replied. Not a good enough response in her book; not one fucking bit.
"No. No you don't." She insisted.
"Look, Liz, you don't understand-"
"Then HELP me understand, Benik." She took a step closer, her hands almost shooting out to press against his shoulders (a motion she immediately restrained). She continued to stare at her squad member- the object of this wanton desire she couldn't explain- and saw nothing but conflict and turmoil in those deep, heavy eyes of his.
"I saw you, Benik...I saw you...tear up in the assembly. The way you applauded when that marine joined…" She saw him tense up and clench his jaw, building an emotional suit of armour in an instant; but Lizzie'd be damned if she didn't let herself slip through his guard, this time. "I don't know what that was about- any of it-...but you don't have to do this, alone. And what you said back there? To Ellen? To us? I don't believe that...not for a fucking second, Benik…" She bit her lip, and stepped closer, not once did they break eye contact. She was so close; he was so close. She had made it past those mental defences he walled himself behind- weeks of unintentional effort now beginning to show its hand; until Benik stepped back, and Lizzie suddenly felt herself on the outside, again. She wasn't going to show it, but this whole ordeal was hurting her- the burn of building tears behind her eyes took her whole willpower to hold them back.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But Ellen is right; I get friends killed. I've made countless mistakes that have cost myself and others I cared about, dearly...in ways I cannot ever repay. So, please. Let me do right by you and save someone, for once." He morosely spoke; the words sincere and bittersweet. And it was in that moment, it all came crashing down to her- the cruel realisation of Benik's impulsiveness. There was revenge, hatred and so much anguish in his motive...but that one mysterious factor she could've never determined finally became all to clear.
'He did this for me...to protect me…' Her lips parted, but the air in her lungs hitched in her throat. It was obvious Benik could read the realisation on her face, and he sadly nodded once with that same rare, sweet smile- no matter how melancholic it was.
"Tell Ellen and Vasili that I'm sorry for what I said...and if I make it back-"
"Benik…-" She softly interjected.
"- IF. I make it back…" he wouldn't accept her plea for a positive outlook, but Lizzie was wholly aware the days of positive thinking were soon to be forgotten in the coming weeks. "...I'll tell you everything. All of it. I owe it to you, at the least, for stealing your shot of suicide." He bitterly chuckled, but the dark humour didn't elicit any smile in return from her. The two continued to stare at once another- nothing else seemed to matter, but Lizzie felt she had left so much unsaid, yet couldn't find what she wanted to fill the void of silence with.
"Yeah…" he finally droned with a sad smile, before turning on his heels to finally carry on- walking away from her.
Lizzie watched Benik walk away, leaving her behind, and alone. Her lips finally closed, and she no longer had the strength to hold back the tears. They carved pale tracks down her cheeks, as she continued to stare into the vacant corridor where he once stood.
'Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying, Lizzie! It's...going to be fine. He's coming back. Whatever you were gonna say to him, say it then.' She hated having mental spars with herself, but never before since her mother died had Lizzie felt so alone- the idea of such a comparison alone only frustrated her more.
"Fffuck. I need to work." She hissed quietly to herself with a strained whimper; furiously drying her eyes, before she doubled back on herself.
Maybe Hank could spare her a free shift of privacy at the motor pool, where she can drown her anger and woes beneath the roaring of an engine she can fix.
Phew! What a drama storm, ammiright?
Next chapter will feature namely some flashbacks to give you all a bit of a better grasp of how Liz and Benik met, and more how this semi-awkward start of an uneasy friendship has blossomed into...whatever the hell these two are, right now.
Stay tuned!