p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I just want to know my co-workers, this isn't an interrogation."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""That's cute. Let's see if it lasts."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Deadlock's lips pinch together like she's had to take personal offense quietly./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Why so cynical?" People let so much slip in their tone under duress./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Still lounging, Fade raises an eyebrow in response to Iselin's almost knee-jerk response. She chooses to physicalize more than she verbalizes. She's pretty sure that Iselin has noted this. It's bad for interaction in fresh teams like the Protocol. She knows that Iselin is probably finding fresh concerns about team cohesion and communication, but it allows her to dodge some questions and get away with ignoring others./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Sometimes though, she deflects to get a better read on the other. "Deadlock," their eyes lock onto each other, "explain." It's not intoned like a question, nor does it sound final like a statement, nor is it delivered flatly. It's a sound that's hard to categorize and harder to recreate./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin's lips unfurl and her eyebrows scrunch, it lasts less than a moment, but it's long enough. Fade has vocalized her deflection just right then, her fake, amused smile never leaves her lips./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Not to sound rude or mean, but you just seem to assume that people are out to get something from you." Her next words, obviously unintentional, come out breathy and rushed, "why is it so hard for you to believe that someone just wants to talk to you?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade can't decide if Iselin sounds more angry or exasperated or worried, there's a passion in there, like she was leading a personal crusade. It doesn't matter though; Iselin doesn't know her well enough to form any sort of opinion Fade can count on./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""So, you just want to talk to me?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Yes?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade notes that it probably seems odd that she finds it weird that someone just wants to talk to her. People never want to talk to her. Why would they? She doesn't deserve companionship. Those that come to her? They need Fade the bounty hunter, or Fade the agent. They have clearly got it right. Fade passes the hookah pipe back to Iselin. When the woman doesn't do anything with it, she mimes taking a puff. Iselin still doesn't, and they reach what should be an awkward pause./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade exhales long and deep. Then she proceeds to take a swig of their shared drink./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The Coca-Cola washes over her tongue leaving its weirdly pleasant off-vanilla flavor across her mouth. The pungency and generally terrible taste of Rum exist, but it's just a mild undertone. She lets the drink trickle down her throat instead of swallowing all at once. She prefers the trail of warmth into her chest instead of a passionate fire. It's calmer and milder. Easier to get lost in. She takes her time to experience her drink, which leaves the woman across her struggling against the awkwardness of silence. People are surprisingly vulnerable to empty silences. It's one of her tried and tested tactics./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Look, Fade." Iselin is no exception either it would seem. "Hazal." Her body language is soft, defeated. The fervor is gone. "I've met the other agents but never you. I will have to work with you at some point, I like to know the people I work with."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade lets a small smile of confirmation splay across her lips. "And needing to know the people you work with isn't coming to me for something, right?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The Norwegian's face instantly scrunches up. Fade can feel the horror bleeding off of the woman, she can see the recrimination coloring the woman's body language. Only in the context of their greatest fears are people truthful. Alcohol definitely helps with bringing down people's facades and exaggerating the effects of her soft-spoken words./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin might not have seen Fade before, but Fade has seen Iselin before—by the pool in the middle of the night, in the unused secondary kitchenette making orange juice, gazing blankly at the sky when there's no one else around, talking levelly to the overly dramatic younger agents, the tiny smiles when she helps the team she's training with work better together, the uneasy tension in her frame when Gekko is around or Skye's animals are loose, her easy banter with Breach, and the way it helps her come to terms with the loss of her hand, and a hundred other stolen moments. Fade doesn't want to know people, if she could, she'd hide away among the glazed tiles of the Hagia Sophia and never meet one more person than she'd absolutely have to. But as long as 'Nightmare' exists, she can't. Nightmare is always going to take—if not from others, then from her. People will always fear her curse. They'll curse her, hunt her, and drive her out over something she'd tear out of her own body if she knew how. She's only ever found five people who have treated her like a human, and one of them is lost to her. She doesn't want to know people, but she needs to know them so that when they come for her, she'll know how to handle them. In her need, she has stolen hundreds of moments from so many, and so much more from a few. In the grand scheme of things, Iselin is a relative unknown, but not unknown to the point that she doesn't know what buttons to press./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I used to do this before too—getting to know people for the mission. Except, sometimes the mission isn't worth it, is it?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade wordlessly offers her more Rumcola. They spend time in silence. Neither knows for how long though, alcohol and nicotine have a strong tendency to mess with accurate time perception./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The bottle is down to the last one-fourth before Iselin chooses to speak up again. "Fade?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Hazal."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Hazal?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Yes?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I grew up in the Serbian wilds, used to go hunting with my mom, there would be bears sometimes . . ."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade doesn't respond, there is no need to./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""They're really intelligent. So much more than just big hulking predators. That's what makes them dangerous. We humans . . . we think that animals around us are so dumb. They're not. They're damned smart. And in that bunker, when I saw the pawprints, I knew it was a bear. I still told my girls to split up. Now they're dead."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The hookah pipe switches hands, Iselin takes another puff. A big one. She coughs it up. Then takes another one, smaller. It's a killer combo—alcohol and nicotine—Fade should stop her but she figures the other woman could use a few hours of paradise./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I made the wrong call, and now they're dead. The scientist is dead. I'm alive . . . I made the fucking wrong call . . . If I hadn't told them to split up, they'd be alive Hazal. Do you get me?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade inhales slowly and exhales slower. "Yes."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""You know, sometimes I still ask Astrid and Ingrid to chuck me my pants when I'm toweling off. I know they're gone, I know no one's going to respond, but I do it anyways. Som altid (Like always.) So I can at least feel like they're also there, that I haven't messed up on such epic proportions. I'm just a sad sad girl, aren't I? I know that everyone messes up. Heck, I messed up, but I just feel– It sucks."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade takes another puff and hmmms./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""You don't get it, do you?" Iselin's face is scrunched up, "I'm just another agent to you, aren't I? I don't want your pity." Iselin's volume has gone up considerably. "I can take care of myself. I can function without you coddling me. That's what you think of me huh? Toff dag? (Tough day?) Right from the beginning you were just humoring me, huh?!" Iselin is screeching now. "Acting all high and mighty, think you're cool huh? Well, fuck you!" She hauls herself off the ground, staggers into the opposite wall, and almost crashes before taking the next step toward the door./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade reaches out, grabs the Nord's arm, and pulls her back down. Iselin crashes roughly into fades stomach, an elbow digs into her thigh. It hurts, in her bones and muscles, the kind of hurt you get from getting hit with a rounded rod to flesh-less ribs. Fade has survived worse, has done worse to herself, this is nothing. She tucks one arm under Iselin's and wraps it across her chest—a half hug for a friend—Iselin isn't a friend, but the blond seems like she needs one right about now. Fade perches her head over the curve of Iselin's scalp. It's something Fade liked to do./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Then she takes another Coca-Cola-flavored puff./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Smooth talking is sometimes more physical than verbal. Fade isn't sure she values or hates her old discovery./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The white smoke swirls in slow mesmerizing patterns as she releases it./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She can feel Iselin's hands tighten around her midriff with the shuddering heaving that accompanies tears. She feels a warm wetness just below her neckline. She takes a second to change the music to span style="text-decoration: underline;"Lyfjaberg by Warunda/span, it's a Norwegian healing song. She doesn't understand the language but it sounds soothing to her, and hopefully to Iselin too./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"They stay that way, one half-splayed across the other./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Azra—the establishment owner—drops by, takes a look at the two of them, and then quietly leaves./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin stops shuddering but only shifts to curl up against Fade. It couldn't have been comfortable considering all of her bony surfaces, her legs are going numb./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Later, her phone buzzes. A message from Killjoy: 'Have you seen Deadlock?' Iselin wouldn't appreciate being seen in tears. 'She passed out, low alcohol tolerance. I'll bring her back with me when Cypher drops by tomorrow.' 'Ok.'/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade fires off a quick message to Cypher./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade's eyes open to the same old room. She was close to nodding off, that was dangerous. Iselin's hands are loose around her; she's fallen asleep. Fade takes this opportunity to shift her legs. She can't feel her legs and her coordination is non-existent, as a result, she ends up moving Iselin around. The curled-up woman doesn't wake. Must have been the alcohol. Fade resorts to soothingly stroking the other's arm./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The next time she nearly falls asleep, she resorts to the adrenalin autoinjector she carries around. Sage would probably scold her, but Sage doesn't struggle with 'Nightmare,' she does. Her heart speeds up dangerously./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She's killing herself slowly./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade has probably spent an hour or two studying the frankly beautiful freckles that Iselin has expertly hidden with a light dusting of powder when the woman stirs from her sleep. Iselin props herself up on her prosthetic arm and tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes. To anyone else, it might have been adorable./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade crawls to her bag in the corner not saying a thing. With no feeling in her legs, trying to walk wouldn't have worked. She pulls out an Aspirin and then crawls back to her cushions. She downs two pills with some of the Rumcola that was out of reach all night, then shoves the bottle and the Aspirin strip to Iselin. Her back aches deeply. It's the kind of ache that drives her crazy—the type that becomes more distinct when you try to keep your back straight and worsens when you arch too much. The kind you have to live through. Hopefully, the aspirin would dull that ache. What a terrible way to start the day./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin doesn't say anything, and Fade moves to pack her stuff. There isn't much to pack, only a pack of local shop-made chips and some fresh henna. She then proceeds to stuff the leftovers into the trashcan. All along Fade can feel Iselin's eyes on her form./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"A hesitant voice reaches her ears, small and unsure, "I'm sorry . . . and thank you." It's heartfelt. Fade doesn't deserve it./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She could have replied with a simple 'welcome,' or 'no issues,' but instead goes with "You needed a friend, and I know what it's like to not have one."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""That's cute. Let's see if it lasts."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Deadlock's lips pinch together like she's had to take personal offense quietly./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Why so cynical?" People let so much slip in their tone under duress./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Still lounging, Fade raises an eyebrow in response to Iselin's almost knee-jerk response. She chooses to physicalize more than she verbalizes. She's pretty sure that Iselin has noted this. It's bad for interaction in fresh teams like the Protocol. She knows that Iselin is probably finding fresh concerns about team cohesion and communication, but it allows her to dodge some questions and get away with ignoring others./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Sometimes though, she deflects to get a better read on the other. "Deadlock," their eyes lock onto each other, "explain." It's not intoned like a question, nor does it sound final like a statement, nor is it delivered flatly. It's a sound that's hard to categorize and harder to recreate./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin's lips unfurl and her eyebrows scrunch, it lasts less than a moment, but it's long enough. Fade has vocalized her deflection just right then, her fake, amused smile never leaves her lips./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Not to sound rude or mean, but you just seem to assume that people are out to get something from you." Her next words, obviously unintentional, come out breathy and rushed, "why is it so hard for you to believe that someone just wants to talk to you?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade can't decide if Iselin sounds more angry or exasperated or worried, there's a passion in there, like she was leading a personal crusade. It doesn't matter though; Iselin doesn't know her well enough to form any sort of opinion Fade can count on./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""So, you just want to talk to me?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Yes?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade notes that it probably seems odd that she finds it weird that someone just wants to talk to her. People never want to talk to her. Why would they? She doesn't deserve companionship. Those that come to her? They need Fade the bounty hunter, or Fade the agent. They have clearly got it right. Fade passes the hookah pipe back to Iselin. When the woman doesn't do anything with it, she mimes taking a puff. Iselin still doesn't, and they reach what should be an awkward pause./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade exhales long and deep. Then she proceeds to take a swig of their shared drink./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The Coca-Cola washes over her tongue leaving its weirdly pleasant off-vanilla flavor across her mouth. The pungency and generally terrible taste of Rum exist, but it's just a mild undertone. She lets the drink trickle down her throat instead of swallowing all at once. She prefers the trail of warmth into her chest instead of a passionate fire. It's calmer and milder. Easier to get lost in. She takes her time to experience her drink, which leaves the woman across her struggling against the awkwardness of silence. People are surprisingly vulnerable to empty silences. It's one of her tried and tested tactics./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Look, Fade." Iselin is no exception either it would seem. "Hazal." Her body language is soft, defeated. The fervor is gone. "I've met the other agents but never you. I will have to work with you at some point, I like to know the people I work with."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade lets a small smile of confirmation splay across her lips. "And needing to know the people you work with isn't coming to me for something, right?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The Norwegian's face instantly scrunches up. Fade can feel the horror bleeding off of the woman, she can see the recrimination coloring the woman's body language. Only in the context of their greatest fears are people truthful. Alcohol definitely helps with bringing down people's facades and exaggerating the effects of her soft-spoken words./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin might not have seen Fade before, but Fade has seen Iselin before—by the pool in the middle of the night, in the unused secondary kitchenette making orange juice, gazing blankly at the sky when there's no one else around, talking levelly to the overly dramatic younger agents, the tiny smiles when she helps the team she's training with work better together, the uneasy tension in her frame when Gekko is around or Skye's animals are loose, her easy banter with Breach, and the way it helps her come to terms with the loss of her hand, and a hundred other stolen moments. Fade doesn't want to know people, if she could, she'd hide away among the glazed tiles of the Hagia Sophia and never meet one more person than she'd absolutely have to. But as long as 'Nightmare' exists, she can't. Nightmare is always going to take—if not from others, then from her. People will always fear her curse. They'll curse her, hunt her, and drive her out over something she'd tear out of her own body if she knew how. She's only ever found five people who have treated her like a human, and one of them is lost to her. She doesn't want to know people, but she needs to know them so that when they come for her, she'll know how to handle them. In her need, she has stolen hundreds of moments from so many, and so much more from a few. In the grand scheme of things, Iselin is a relative unknown, but not unknown to the point that she doesn't know what buttons to press./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I used to do this before too—getting to know people for the mission. Except, sometimes the mission isn't worth it, is it?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade wordlessly offers her more Rumcola. They spend time in silence. Neither knows for how long though, alcohol and nicotine have a strong tendency to mess with accurate time perception./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The bottle is down to the last one-fourth before Iselin chooses to speak up again. "Fade?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Hazal."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Hazal?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""Yes?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I grew up in the Serbian wilds, used to go hunting with my mom, there would be bears sometimes . . ."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade doesn't respond, there is no need to./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""They're really intelligent. So much more than just big hulking predators. That's what makes them dangerous. We humans . . . we think that animals around us are so dumb. They're not. They're damned smart. And in that bunker, when I saw the pawprints, I knew it was a bear. I still told my girls to split up. Now they're dead."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The hookah pipe switches hands, Iselin takes another puff. A big one. She coughs it up. Then takes another one, smaller. It's a killer combo—alcohol and nicotine—Fade should stop her but she figures the other woman could use a few hours of paradise./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""I made the wrong call, and now they're dead. The scientist is dead. I'm alive . . . I made the fucking wrong call . . . If I hadn't told them to split up, they'd be alive Hazal. Do you get me?"/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade inhales slowly and exhales slower. "Yes."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""You know, sometimes I still ask Astrid and Ingrid to chuck me my pants when I'm toweling off. I know they're gone, I know no one's going to respond, but I do it anyways. Som altid (Like always.) So I can at least feel like they're also there, that I haven't messed up on such epic proportions. I'm just a sad sad girl, aren't I? I know that everyone messes up. Heck, I messed up, but I just feel– It sucks."/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade takes another puff and hmmms./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;""You don't get it, do you?" Iselin's face is scrunched up, "I'm just another agent to you, aren't I? I don't want your pity." Iselin's volume has gone up considerably. "I can take care of myself. I can function without you coddling me. That's what you think of me huh? Toff dag? (Tough day?) Right from the beginning you were just humoring me, huh?!" Iselin is screeching now. "Acting all high and mighty, think you're cool huh? Well, fuck you!" She hauls herself off the ground, staggers into the opposite wall, and almost crashes before taking the next step toward the door./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade reaches out, grabs the Nord's arm, and pulls her back down. Iselin crashes roughly into fades stomach, an elbow digs into her thigh. It hurts, in her bones and muscles, the kind of hurt you get from getting hit with a rounded rod to flesh-less ribs. Fade has survived worse, has done worse to herself, this is nothing. She tucks one arm under Iselin's and wraps it across her chest—a half hug for a friend—Iselin isn't a friend, but the blond seems like she needs one right about now. Fade perches her head over the curve of Iselin's scalp. It's something Fade liked to do./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Then she takes another Coca-Cola-flavored puff./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Smooth talking is sometimes more physical than verbal. Fade isn't sure she values or hates her old discovery./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The white smoke swirls in slow mesmerizing patterns as she releases it./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She can feel Iselin's hands tighten around her midriff with the shuddering heaving that accompanies tears. She feels a warm wetness just below her neckline. She takes a second to change the music to span style="text-decoration: underline;"Lyfjaberg by Warunda/span, it's a Norwegian healing song. She doesn't understand the language but it sounds soothing to her, and hopefully to Iselin too./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"They stay that way, one half-splayed across the other./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Azra—the establishment owner—drops by, takes a look at the two of them, and then quietly leaves./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin stops shuddering but only shifts to curl up against Fade. It couldn't have been comfortable considering all of her bony surfaces, her legs are going numb./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Later, her phone buzzes. A message from Killjoy: 'Have you seen Deadlock?' Iselin wouldn't appreciate being seen in tears. 'She passed out, low alcohol tolerance. I'll bring her back with me when Cypher drops by tomorrow.' 'Ok.'/p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade fires off a quick message to Cypher./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade's eyes open to the same old room. She was close to nodding off, that was dangerous. Iselin's hands are loose around her; she's fallen asleep. Fade takes this opportunity to shift her legs. She can't feel her legs and her coordination is non-existent, as a result, she ends up moving Iselin around. The curled-up woman doesn't wake. Must have been the alcohol. Fade resorts to soothingly stroking the other's arm./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"The next time she nearly falls asleep, she resorts to the adrenalin autoinjector she carries around. Sage would probably scold her, but Sage doesn't struggle with 'Nightmare,' she does. Her heart speeds up dangerously./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She's killing herself slowly./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;". . ./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade has probably spent an hour or two studying the frankly beautiful freckles that Iselin has expertly hidden with a light dusting of powder when the woman stirs from her sleep. Iselin props herself up on her prosthetic arm and tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes. To anyone else, it might have been adorable./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Fade crawls to her bag in the corner not saying a thing. With no feeling in her legs, trying to walk wouldn't have worked. She pulls out an Aspirin and then crawls back to her cushions. She downs two pills with some of the Rumcola that was out of reach all night, then shoves the bottle and the Aspirin strip to Iselin. Her back aches deeply. It's the kind of ache that drives her crazy—the type that becomes more distinct when you try to keep your back straight and worsens when you arch too much. The kind you have to live through. Hopefully, the aspirin would dull that ache. What a terrible way to start the day./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"Iselin doesn't say anything, and Fade moves to pack her stuff. There isn't much to pack, only a pack of local shop-made chips and some fresh henna. She then proceeds to stuff the leftovers into the trashcan. All along Fade can feel Iselin's eyes on her form./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"A hesitant voice reaches her ears, small and unsure, "I'm sorry . . . and thank you." It's heartfelt. Fade doesn't deserve it./p
p style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; margin-top: .17in; margin-bottom: 0in; border: none; padding: 0in; line-height: 100%;"She could have replied with a simple 'welcome,' or 'no issues,' but instead goes with "You needed a friend, and I know what it's like to not have one."/p