a/n: Nicole has a few slight concerns. Nothing, really.

All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Hope stood up from the bench, shoulders square, chin up. She realized that it was well past her turn to be the one being supportive. Not out of professional pride or because she had the training and skills, but because Quincy, her friend, needed a friend, right now. He needed her to help him become part of greater NLA, if only for a few days.

She gestured along the deserted walkway with her head, indicating the direction they should go. No one else was passing by, which was just as well. She wasn't sure Quincy wanted anyone to see his agitation. Or maybe he was too deep in thought to be concerned about others. He pulled himself away from the screen with a jerk, but he didn't seem excited to leave the area.

"Come along," she said. She frowned. That had sounded prim. She didn't want to push him into her plan, but she really thought he might like it. She tried again. "I promise, it's a great view. You can see the entire city. It's so lively. Maybe it will make you feel less, I don't know, isolated?"

She started to reach to grab his hand, strictly as an encouraging friend would, but she had second thoughts. She quickly clasped her hands together. She shouldn't pressure him to follow. She should show support. He wasn't a client. She shouldn't be pushy. Was this pushy? Why was she wondering?

Why did it matter anyway, what she thought or felt?

It didn't. She smiled at Quincy again, not trying to coax or persuade, simply glad that he was there.

He returned the smile, not quite as warmly. He was looking at her a little vaguely, a little tired after his outburst or maybe just finally overwhelmed by his situation. It was too much, seeing him look so lonely. She grabbed his hand and led him toward the city overlook. She ignored the sting of his fingers in hers, chilly from gripping the metal fence so hard, the ripple of wires still stamped into his flesh. She would have dropped his hand immediately if she'd had to pull him in the slightest, but he followed her at once, even if he seemed uncertain.

Naturally, it was exactly at this moment that her comm device shrilled an alert. Of course it did. They hadn't managed more than a few steps, and now her phone was buzzing away like a swarm of adseculas. Hope wanted to ignore it, really she did, but it wasn't a regular buzz. Oh no, this jingle was reserved for mid-level emergency notifications.

"I have to answer it," she apologized, whipping out the offending piece of technology. Quincy, once released from her grip, swayed slightly, craning his neck around to take in the uninspiring but massive slice of city around them.

The comm device jingled again before she had swiped it into life, then again as she pulled up the first message. It was only a text, from Nicole, urging her to drop the paperwork off at BLADE HQ asap. A proper update, putting what they had discussed in the center into writing to avoid misunderstanding. Then why the alert noise, and why had Nicole sent her yet another text in the time she had read the first and had tapped on the second?

In all, there were four texts in a row, with increasing usage of all capital letters. This was not at all Nicole's style. The phrasing was dry and impersonal, but Hope knew for certain that Nicole was very, very concerned about Quincy's paperwork. The question was: why?

"Just a moment," she murmured to Quincy, tapping away her own text. Nicole's response to her suggestion that it could wait an hour was immediate. Some internal system review had decided that Quincy needed the standard petalose removal process immediately; the patient was clearly trying to avoid it, a sign of increased, possibly dangerous, mental instability. There was now an automatic warrant out for Quincy's arrest, strictly for his best interests of course. Until Dr. Pelias' treatment was recognized by the appropriate official ECP agencies, Quincy was a wanted man.

"Well, that's a problem," Hope said to a screen full of Nicole's agitation. She shot the briefest of acknowledgements and calmly put the device away. "I'm afraid there's a change of plans," she said evenly to Quincy. "We'll be visiting BLADE tower first. I need to drop off some paperwork."

Quincy didn't look terribly disappointed about the delay. Rather, he looked weary of the whole scene. "I can wait outside. If we find me a bench in the sun, I promise not to move." he nodded softly to himself, clearly trying to grasp everything he'd learned.

Hope shook her head firmly. "No, you had better stick with me. It won't take a minute and I'll explain as we go. Then we'll check out the view," she promised.

As in the Mim Center, so in BLADE Tower: things went neither quickly nor smoothly. Hope began to wonder about the disarray in communications among all the sectors of NLA's governance. Was it excess bureaucracy? Waste? Confusion due to switching from combat-oriented status to whatever their colony was now? Plain incompetence? The answer was: yes. Four different times Hope had to explain the situation, trying to fix four different versions of something not quite working in the overlapping systems.

She initially considered letting Quincy sit in a waiting area while she worked it out. It probably would have made it faster to deal with everything without having to guide him from one floor to the next. Quincy certainly wasn't able to help. He barely knew his full name, and his face was becoming grey with misery. Then a heavily armed and (from Hope's experience) none-too-bright Interceptor attached himself to the situation.

Hope made sure Quincy was within arms reach from then on. Sh spared a few moments to glare at their guard, then ignored him, focusing on the first in a series of obstinate, overly-careful administrators. The trio, she, Quincy, and the guard, shuffled from one office to another, relieved by silent elevator rides. Hope explained over and over, nicely, about the successful if still experimental treatment Quincy had received.

She did her best to keep the details private, but there was only so much she could do. At one point, the guard snickered. Hope threw a fresh glare at the Interceptor, then glanced at Quincy to see how he was handling all of it. He was leaning against a wall that was painted a vaguely military tan. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed. He looked exhausted from the ordeal.

What a terrible way to be introduced to the city, thought Hope. Then she smiled determinedly. It was only paperwork, Hope reminded herself. Not an ordeal! They would settle this, enjoy a view, and then have a late lunch. She looked at a blinking display. A very late lunch.

a/n: We should be getting gratuitous Nagi soon.

Next time: The promised view.