"But do you really know why you go where you go, and where this journey is taking you? The chase leads you where you need to be, you believe.
Unless...you are being pushed."
-Dreams of Alpha Lupi
Author's Warning: This chapter features content that is sexual in nature. Nothing explicit or pervasive like the last chapter, but there are one or two brief mature instances referenced.
Rain clouds darkened the sky. In the distance, a flash of lightning forked across the horizon, followed by the slow, rolling rumble of thunder. Summer storms, moving in like clockwork. Every year it was the same. Not a blade of grass stirred in the stillness, holding its breath for the tempest to come.
And come it would. Soon.
The first rush of wind breezed past her, tousling her hair, driving her onwards across the lolloping plains. Every step bore her closer, over ridges and swales. Closer, through gullies and marsh. Closer, across an infinite, desolate sea. Closer, towards that glitter of hope at the end of the earth.
And then she was there.
Before her, a familiar gate loomed. Upward, it stretched, brushing the sky, bathing her in shadow. To either side, the fortification swept outward in a hundred-foot wall, unfurling as far as the eye could see. The final bastion of defense for the precious jewel of civilization nestled within.
The Last City - her home.
(This wasn't her home)
Confusion
With a slow creak, the gates gave way. So too did the moment of doubt.
She slunk in through the gates under the cover of dusk. Her entry went unnoticed, with the sentries preoccupied, the turrets offline. How strange , she thought, that there was no one there to demand her credentials or generate an itemized manifest of the alien artifacts she typically bore.
She paid it little mind.
Despite the faint patter of rain, the streets inside bustled with City denizens rushing to and fro, shoring up the last of their errands before seeking shelter from the impending storm. Even in the heat of a summer's midday, their figures were garbed from head to toe in thick felt cloaks and cowls. A myriad of colorful fabrics undulating through the thoroughfares like ripples on a kaleidoscopic pond.
She plunged in.
The crowds parted before her, averting their hooded faces, clutching cloaks tight as they took refuge beneath awnings and in doorways. They feared the rain, that was all. Not her. The hood of her cloak was drawn back, her hair unbound, tousled by the winds. She had nothing to hide. She belonged here. She was one of them.
(She was an outsider)
Denial
She went on.
In the bazaar, she stopped before a vendor's booth to ask something. Some innocuous, unknown question at the fringe of her mind. The vendor turned slowly, his movements stiff and unnatural, as if controlled by unseen strings. As his face came into view, her heart froze. The features that should have held expressions of warmth and life were instead a blank, unfeeling mask.
A chill ran down her spine, her insides gripped by a creeping unease.
Suddenly the bustling bazaar around her seemed frozen in time, the sounds of haggling and laughter silenced, replaced by an eerie stillness. The air grew heavy, thick with unspoken tension.
Her head turned towards the crowds, and panic welled up inside her, urging her to run. To escape the clutches of that terror that closed in around her.
Her feet refused to obey.
As if in slow motion, the faces of the masses swiveled towards her. One, then another and another, until every last one was staring. Like porcelain dolls, their faces were empty and lifeless, their eyes hollow voids, devoid of any spark of recognition or emotion.
Inside and out, she reeled, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.
Whether it was by her own will or the will of one in the Sky above, her feet broke free.
To the City center, she ran then. She ran through the alleys, the bazaars. She ran through the throngs of those dead, empty faces. She ran till her heart pounded and until her legs screamed.
And then she was there.
Before her, a great bastion of brick and stone rose, stark in contrast amidst the surrounding construction. Thick curls of ivy clung to the facade, winding their tendrils through chinks and cracks in the ornamental mortar, yearning for the unfeeling steel structure beneath.
The Academy. Her Academy.
(Not yet hers)
Doubt
The feeling nagged at her, giving her a moment of hesitance and pause. It roiled through her gut, twisting and churning.
Suddenly the whole world was illuminated by a jarring flash, a crack of thunder pealing through the sky overhead.
Fear
The sky opened up, then, and rain poured down in earnest, rapidly drenching the pavement walkways, the roadside gutters, and the thin tattered raiments she wore.
Scrabbling, she fell forwards, hands and feet landing upon slickened stairs. Upward, she surged. Up, up, up towards that familiar door. The gateway to unfathomable knowledge, to the present. To the past. The unknown.
It cracked open.
A faint ray of light tumbled out. Over the landing, down the stairs, smothering her in brilliance.
And then she was there, knelt atop the landing. Drenched. Hollow. Lost.
From the radiant doorway, a hand reached out. She clasped it…
The faint scent of Ether woke her.
Meren stirred, rubbing her face, the dream slowly dissolving into something murky and vague as she gradually came to. With a tiny whine, she lounged there for a moment, head lulled back on a cushion, eyes closed. The haze of sleep still clung to her mind, but it was fleeting. Fading away as the Ether-scent came again, carried along by gentle currents in the air, a cloying, sharp sting, pricking at her nose, stirring her senses to life.
For an instant, it brought back memories of countless evenings in the cellblock below the Tower, and she was transported back. Sitting on the cold cement floor in that Ether-tinged air, conversing with Itrik and Yalsis, with Spekkis' thin voice rumbling from his far corner cell. All of their faces were animated, but drawn, their hands gesturing mutedly along with their words, their guttural, rasping Eliksni mixed with fragments of the human tongue - fragments she'd taught them. And there she was, smiling and nodding right along with them. It was but a glimpse into what felt like a lifetime ago. A glimpse that as quickly as it had come, was then fading and gone.
A pang of loss tugged at her as she tried to conjure Itrik's face back to her mind. How long had it been, since she'd trudged below the Tower into that gloom? How long since she'd heard their light, chittering voices? How long since she'd thought about them? How long since she'd even remembered?
Meren sighed, and like the vision before, those questions, too, were gone.
With another gulp of the Ether-laced air, the last remnants of sleep began to dissipate from her mind. It felt clearer now, more focused, as if her subconscious had finally stirred. She stretched lazily, shifting the covers from around her shoulders. The movement accentuated the silky softness of the bedding cradling her, both above and below. Soft, so soft - too soft. The faint brush of flannel bedclothes against her skin should have been all she felt.
…where were her bedclothes?
Meren's eyes snapped open.
Wherever she was, it was dark - darker than it ought to have been. Through the inky grey, she could make out ill-defined shapes around her, barely visible in the gloom. It took several seconds to focus her eyes on them: loose swaths of decorative fabric and strings of darkened lights dangling from the ceiling above, all tangled together like some shadowed tropical canopy. On the walls, similar fabric was displayed in the form of hazy tapestries, their mysteries obscured. And as for the floor, it was scattered with an assortment of junk - the shapes of which resembled twisted metal debris, arranged in some mimicry of order. Like a posh sitting area, if the furniture had been salvaged from a smoldering crater in the aftermath of a Cabal orbital strike.
Her still-awakening mind struggled to catch up with her eyes as she glanced to the side. There, in the bed beside her, was the vague silhouette of a mound of blankets. Furred blankets, stirred gently by the slow rise and fall of a breathing figure nestled somewhere within.
Realization hit her like a shock dagger to the chest.
In the blink of an eye, everything came rushing back in fragments, disjointed images and foggy sensations that broke like waves against her mind. The Vanguard's orders. Her trek back to the Prison. The Servitor guiding her into the dark. Her welcome into the Warden's quarters. Tea, then dinner. The Reef gem. And after that…
After that, everything was a blur.
Still, Meren didn't need crystal clear recollection to know full well what had happened.
She and Variks had happened. The forbidden passion they'd shared, not just once, but twice.
Following the culmination of that first romantic interlude and its subsequent pillow talk, both she and Variks had drifted off in the stillness, lulled to sleep by the pull of post-coital sloth. They hadn't meant for it to happen, yet they'd succumbed in the comfort of each other's arms, and had dozed for a time, content. Still, that fitful slumber hadn't lasted. Even as they'd slept, the embers of their passion still had smoldered, and in short time they'd awoken again, only to rekindle the flames of desire anew.
If the first time had been good, the second had been better. With all of their prior reservation gone, no more than a few muttered words had been exchanged before their bodies came clashing together, desperate with yearning. Like ravenous beasts, they'd devoured one another, nipping and groping and pawing, until at last the urgency had become too much. With no more words, Variks had pulled her atop him in a flash, and she'd ridden his hips with wild abandon until he'd flipped them both over once more. Pinning her on her side, he'd taken control and finished the job, snarling his triumph as he'd sent the both of them tumbling headlong into that blissful oblivion.
In hindsight, it had been feral, frenzied sex. No more than a bout of mindless, carnal desire, devoid of any and all civil restraint. Their first time, though it had started off clumsily, had been lustful and intense, yes. But that second time…that second time was something else entirely. It had been raw passion, without reservation.
And it had been incredible.
As for what had happened after, Meren had only a vague recollection of it. The gradual cooling of their lust. How their bodies had entwined once more, curling in around each other. How they'd muttered soft flatteries - not a word of which she remembered. How quickly the siren call of sleep carried them away once more. And then, nothing.
And now here she was, waking in his nest hours later…
Shit! Meren hissed under her breath, lurching up into a sitting position, frantically looking for a chron. Shit, shit, shit-
Her eyes, scanning through the dark, found nothing, and she swore under her breath again, running a hand down the side of her face. In the absence of a chron, there was no way to know for certain how long she'd slept. The only thing she had to go on was the gut feel of her internal clock. The one that told her she'd been asleep for hours. And in all her life, it had rarely been wrong.
…shit.
The realization sent her pulse racing, and her fingers clenched into the covers, mind reeling.
Her career as a Vanguard consultant was over! Finished! Any future contract work? Forget it. This one blunder would forever be a blot on her record. The Vanguard would never trust her again after this. For all she knew, they might even consider her AWOL, which in and of itself was an act of gross misconduct, and place her under house arrest for a month. Either way, she was done for.
All because she'd so stupidly fallen asleep and missed the damn rendezvous!
The more she thought about it, the worse it got. What if the Vanguard had already noted her absence and sent Guardians or notified the Reef's Corsairs to come looking for her? What if they'd already discovered her empty quarters? They'd know where to look next, wouldn't they? They'd turn to the Prison, and then it would only be a matter of minutes before they found her here, in this mess, laying in Variks' bed like some sort of shameless harlot!
The repercussions of that were unthinkable.
Yet as the rush of adrenaline waned, a flicker of hope blossomed within her. There was a chance her absence hadn't yet been noted. Or maybe she hadn't overslept nearly as long as she thought. Without a chron to go by, there was no way to be sure. All she could do was hope.
Maybe, just maybe, there was still time to salvage this mess.
Relaxing slightly, Meren glanced over at the Variks lump beside her. Somehow, even despite her flailing, he had yet to stir. Barely audible breaths wheezed softly from the heap of blankets, but other than that, his slumber appeared undisturbed.
And that was how she intended to keep it.
On that thought, she gingerly pushed the covers aside and slid from Variks' nest like a wraith. Soundless and stealthy, yet quick as a whip. In a second, her bare feet hit the cool, metal floor, and she padded across the room, snatching up the first piece of her clothing that came into reach. It was one of her undergarments, tossed haphazardly onto the floor near the foot of the nest. A casualty of she and Variks' earlier romp.
The rest of her garments were scattered about the room. A brassiere here, a pair of trousers there, her tunic somewhere else entirely. All had been hastily thrown aside as they'd proceeded to eagerly divest each other of their clothing. Luckily, it seemed that the majority of her things were concentrated around the nest and at the base of the cabinet.
On silent feet, Meren gathered her things, keeping an eye on Variks' still-unmoving blanket pile as she did. One by one, she scooped the articles up, her efforts undetected by her sleeping host. It took her a minute or two of fumbling in the near dark, tugging on each article of her outfit, piece by piece, as she went. But at last, it all came together. The only thing missing was her boots.
The sleeping scribe had yet to make a sound as she scooped her boots up from the ground. Either Variks was an unusually heavy sleeper, or she was that quiet. Though, it did cross her mind that it was neither, and his apparent unconsciousness might be an act. To what end? Meren had no idea, but it certainly seemed an in character thing for him to do.
Regardless, her boots now tucked under her arm, she made her way towards the door, carefully stepping over the scattered clutter - spherical trinkets, loose leaves of paper, an upsidedown bowl - that Variks had hastily swept from atop the cabinet the night before. The dark made it difficult to recognize what most of it was, but one item stood out clearly enough: a book, lying open and face down. The title on the spine was too obscured for her to read, but the font and formatting felt…familiar.
Had she read that particular book before?
But with half her career on the line, there was no time to dwell on it now.
Running a hand along the wall, Meren located her satchel and snagged it from the hook where it hung. A quick check revealed the gem Variks had given her was still inside. Good. The last thing she wanted to do was leave it behind.
Gingerly, she slung the satchel's strap up and over her shoulder, careful to avoid letting it settle atop where Variks had marked her last night. The wound still felt raw beneath her tunic, though the pain had dulled somewhat since it had happened. Even so, she didn't want to risk jarring the injury again.
The satchel secure on her shoulder, Meren inched to the door. There, she paused, her hand raised to the access pad, and looked back once more, eyes lingering on Variks' slumbering form. He still hadn't moved so much as an inch. Still asleep. Still peaceful. Still completely oblivious to the fact that she was leaving.
The thought sent a stab of guilt through her chest.
It felt wrong, sneaking out on him like this, after everything that had happened between them - after all he'd done for her. Was this how she was going to repay his kindness? With nothing more than a wordless departure while he slept?
Meren grimaced, glancing away, her conscience tugging at her. He deserved better. A goodbye, at the very least. Maybe not one as lengthy as the one they'd shared the night before, but something.
It was a terrible idea, and Meren knew it.
The whole reason she'd snuck so quietly from his nest was to avoid just such a moment. Not because she feared facing him after what they'd done. No, it was quite the opposite. She wanted nothing more to curl back into the nest, press herself in beside him, and lay there, waiting for his spell of sleep to finally break. For his eyes to flutter open, and to find him gazing down at her again. It was what came after that she feared.
She knew how he'd look at her when he realized why she'd woken him. There would be disappointment in his eyes, a weight in the tilt of his head. A mask would slip over his features, and that look would shift to resignation, the same as it had the night before, as though he expected nothing less. And then he would speak. His words soft, not bitter, but acquiescent, accepting of their inevitable parting. His wisdom would be kind, ultimately practical, and it would be followed by silence.
And in that quiet moment, Meren knew, all too well, the resolve to depart would fail her.
Just as it had failed her last night.
It was that knowledge that had propelled her out of the nest, lips pressed tight as she'd dressed. It had carried her on silent wings across the floor, dodging and dancing through the scattered debris. It had driven her towards his door, still not saying a word. All so that she wouldn't give in and stay.
Yet even now, poised with her hand over the lock, oh, how she wished she could!
She still could…
Like a spark catching flame, a flash of madness took hold of her mind. Nothing was stopping her from throwing herself back into his nest. In a heartbeat, he would wake, and she would be wrapped back in his arms, reveling in his touch as he stripped her bare and swept her up in his passion once more. Their bodies would entwine, their hearts pounding together, and nothing in the world would matter. Not the Vanguard. Not her contract. Not that looming eldritch abomination, poised out there in the void, threatening to wash through Sol in a tide of screams and blood. None of it-
Reality struck back like a slap to the face.
Meren squeezed her eyes shut. What was she thinking? How could she have let her mind even entertain such a stupid, stupid fantasy? It was completely and utterly idiotic!
Her rational mind took hold, then, grounding her.
As hard as it was to accept, the simple fact stood that no matter how much her heart yearned to stay, she couldn't. She just…couldn't.
Not only did the very idea of it fly in the face of the Vanguard's orders, it went beyond that. Far beyond. By choosing to defy a direct command in favor of holing herself up with an Eliksni, in the eyes of the Vanguard, she would be effectively declaring her allegiance to the enemy's cause - no matter if the Eliksni in question was allied with the Reef. Once word of her indiscretion leaked back to the Tower - and it would, one way or another - a simple charge of gross misconduct, or even insubordination, would pale in comparison to what she had coming. She'd really be dragged from the Prison, then, by some nameless Guardian back to the City. And then…
Then her actions would be charged as treason.
Staring at the motionless Eliksni lump in the nest, Meren watched the slow rise and fall of the blankets for a moment more. A quiet, inward sigh escaped her, and she bit her lip, hard.
"Goodbye, Variks," she whispered, bringing her hand down on the access pad.
With a soft click, the door slid quietly open and she slipped outside. A cool draft of recycled air from the adjoining chamber's ventilation system hit her as she paused on the doorstep to slide into her boots. The next draft seemed to welcome her back to the world outside Variks' pod, and she pulled her cloak tight about her, attempting to shield any errant scratch marks on her shoulders and arms from curious eyes.
With that, Meren set her gaze and strode from the doorstep, moving with a brisk determination towards the chamber's other end. It was only once she reached the far doors that she paused, glancing back at the pod. For a moment her gaze lingered, her mind fighting back the ache rising in her chest.
Turning her eyes away, she stepped resolutely through the hatch and into the winding labyrinth beyond. Her only comfort the knowledge that whatever came next, she would hold the memory of Variks' friendship close.
It was all she could do to keep her feet moving.
AN: All thanks to Keltoi for edits!