Time Heals

The sun was getting low and dim in the sky. The few windows that let light pour into the large break room, where a number of Guardians had come for some measure of quiet, showed as much.

Crona keeps her eyes not on the windows but the checkerboard before her, having long lost any concern for time. Her hands were folded before her mouth, her white brows furrowed deep, her face the picture of intensity and unbending focus.

Aveline sat opposite her, the board and a table between them. Drumming her fingers on a leg propped up upon the chair arm, she manages to look bored and amused in practically equal measure.

"Shut up." Crona's voice was low but sounded loud when spoken to silence.

Aveline looks left and right, her amusement overtaking the boredom. "I've said nothing."

"I can feel you thinking," Crona scolded her, eyes never leaving the board, "I'll make my move when I'm good and ready."

Aveline watches her pore over the board once again, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards with each passing second. "Will that be sometime this week or…"

"I said-"

"Right, right. Shutting up."

Crona let one finger drop down to a white piece. Slowly, her eyes roving the entire board all the while, she moved the piece into its new place.

Aveline took less than a second to make her own move, a black piece, approaching and preparing to take. Immediately, Crona took hold of the target and moved it…right into another black piece. Again, Aveline wasted no time and for the first time since she was a child, Crona felt the need to flip the board away.

"Think about it, Crona," Aveline advised, her eyelids were low and a smug smile had grown just above the chin she rested on her fist. "Can't just keep reacting. Let's people make your decisions for you."

"You sound like the old man," Crona muttered.

"The Commander?"

"Saladin too." Cautiously, Crona slid another piece forward.

Aveline's frame shook slightly with laughter. "Done a lot of crazy things but I don't think I have the guts to call the Lord Saladin an 'old man' to his face. Or even while in the same building."

"What about when he goes back to Felwinter's Peak? Think you can muster up the courage then?"

Aveline actually seemed to think about it. She quickly shook her head. "No, not even then."

"Fair enough."

"You play with your father?" Aveline asked after a period of silent moves back and forth. The Commander was well known for his skill at chess. Only Ikora has beaten him and she's only managed it once. Shaxx and Saladin came close, even the Speaker did as well. Cayde has never gotten close. The Hunter had even lost upwards of ten thousand Glimmer over the last few decades, making bets with other people that the match he would go on to lose would be the one where he finally won.

Crona's face fell slightly at the mention of her father, though she did not see Aveline watching, her eyes locked on the board. "He taught me the basics but we don't play much anymore." She shrugged, "It's my brother who got his aptitude, not me."

"You don't play anymore? Wouldn't have anything to do with the Vault, would it?" Crona looked up to find the sympathy etched into her features. Above Aveline's head, Esila blinked into view.

Crona gave her a rueful smile and shook her head. "No, no, it was before all that. Overabundance of duties, lack of time. But…" she paused, then sighed, "The Vault didn't help. Not at all."

An understatement. The talk they had the night she returned home was...extensive. He sat her down with everyone and demanded she hold nothing back. That she tell their family everything she risked in disobeying his orders. So she did. In the end, Akira was horrified beyond words. Her brother, always quick to make her laugh or smile, was so furious, he would not speak to her for nearly two weeks.

Her mother's reaction was the most subtle and the worst of them all. There had always been a certain warmth to her interactions in the past. It disappeared after that night. Even her father felt it. It wasn't that she didn't love Crona or Zavala anymore, never that. But the thought of her child, her youngest, dying such a horrible death, that she wouldn't even remember enough to mourn her as she should and that Zavala failed to stop all of this from happening…

Crona had disappointed her father, infuriated her brother, unsettled Akira. But her mother, Crona had broken her heart. It's been a year now and her relationships are mending but they can never go back to how they were, no matter how much Crona might wish they could.

Nothing Aveline needed to be saddled with, so all Crona leaves her with is, "We're working on that." She scratches the Aegis marking on her arm, not bothering to hide it in Aveline's presence. "He's found a weapon or schematics. Or pieces of schematics. An old and powerful thing that's been buried in the Tower Archives for a while. We're repairing it together."

"It's something," Aveline says, "I doubt it's much but it's something."

"And you? How did Senor Torres take the revelation?"

"We didn't tell him the whole story, of course," said Aveline, "What we did tell was enough, apparently." She shook her head, "Set him off something fierce."

Crona gave another rueful grin. "Spill it. How bad?"

Despite the gravity, Aveline smiled back. "Ever been torn a new one in two separate languages?" She moved a piece within seconds of Crona doing the same, "What's worse is that it wasn't deliberate. Spanish is his first language. He only started learning Common when he came here."

"He got so worked up, he reverted."

"Hard to blame him, given the circumstances."

Crona could only hum her agreement. "Where's your brother?"

The door on the far side of the room slid open with a whir and hiss. Aveline did not look up but Esila did, turning her shining eye towards the source of the noise. "Speak of the devil…" Aveline muttered to herself.

Josef weaved his short, wide frame deftly around the tables, sparsely occupied with other Guardians, towards them. Wearing a thin, dampened shirt and a towel covering his head and face, he smelled of soap and stale as he passed Crona on his way to Aveline. "Always good to see you, little sister." He reached up and slapped her shoulder, easily and with unnecessary strength. It rocked Aveline's frame and made her face twist but it was more in familial annoyance than any actual discomfort. A look Crona knew well.

"Wish I could say the same, little brother," she said to his back as he rounded her for the other side of the table. Without even turning, he snatched the towel from his head and tossed it in her general direction. It missed her entirely. "Now go pick it up."

"Where are you coming from?" Crona asked Josef as he trudged his way back around the table.

"Training area." He picked the cloth up off the ground and threw it over his shoulder. "Got roped into sparring with the Kinderguardians."

"'Roped into'," Aveline imitated, "Or volunteered?"

Josef waved a large, calloused hand. "Semantics, Avi. I managed not to injure them. Much. Proud of myself for that. It all ended when a certain someone wanted to join in and all the kiddies scattered." He snorted at the memory, "They've all learned that if a towering Awoken man challenges you to a fight, you find the nearest exit. Door or window, as long as you can toss yourself through it."

"Shino's developing a reputation."

"And he's very proud of it." Josef kicked his heavy, booted feet up onto the table, smirking at Aveline's annoyed huff and leaning back in his chair.

"This isn't your house," Crona barked without bite, "Shoes off the table."

"What's that? You want my shoes off?" Josef parted his feet to look at her and wiggled his toes for emphasis.

"Don't take him up on that. He'll kill half this room." Aveline's attention turned back to the board, "The other half will trample each other trying to escape. I know. I live with him."

Josef made no attempt to defend himself against such slander. He reached over to a shelf on the side and retrieved a datapad, switching it on and quickly engrossing himself in whatever images were flashing across the screen. The Crucible, most likely, though Crona knew of no Banner matches scheduled today. Sora had told her when she asked, the little Warlock not even bothering to hide her relief.

"Any of you heard from Daniel lately? Or Kayla or Erek?" Crona managed to take two of Aveline's pieces at once and couldn't help the little grin that crossed her face.

"We haven't," Aveline answered.

Distracted, Josef added, "We are supposed to make contact with Kayla at some point."

"When and why?"

Josef's eyes lifted from the tablet for only a second. "The why is...classified for now."

"And the when is whenever Aashir manages to convince Ikora to let us go through with it." Just saying the words made Aveline wince.

"Is that where he is now?"

Aveline winced again. "Yep."

"Poor bastard," Josef muttered to his screen. Hernan appeared over his chest. The Titan angled the datapad so his Ghost could recline on his chest and have a better look.

"And you're not there with him?"

The twins shared a quick look. The Ghosts did too. "Ikora only called for him…" Aveline started.

Josef finished, "And we'd rather not look a gift horse in the mouth."

Crona's worried eyes darted between their faces. "That bad?" she asked, though the answer was clear on their faces. In a more personal way, she supposed she could relate.

She didn't envy Aashir either.

"Kayla was able to force open a Vex gate. A Cabal terminal should be nothing for her."

"Perhaps," is all Ikora says. In front of her, projected into the air, were aspects and reports of the security currently keeping them out of the Cabal's network. Ones that Aashir had spent hours compiling in the hopes of her allowing Kayla to be drawn away from the Reef to aid them for a short while. Her shimmering eyes flit over it, unblinking. Aashir used to admire it. Now, he was just glad to not be on its wrong end.

Aashir continued, "Kayla claimed she directed the gate towards the future," he said, "Both Daniel and Aro corroborate this, though, we still don't know what they saw-"

"Nor do you need to." She cut him off sharply, as if her words were blades.

"...Right."

Now, she turned her head. Ikora kept her hands clasped behind her back but she still affixed him with one eye, almost glowing in the dim light. "Tell me again about the Vex giant that came out of the King's Gate."

Aashir's Ghost quickly switched over to the footage. Even with weeks and a planet separating them, the image of the giant hand still managed to evoke a sense of dread in the stomach Aashir did not have. "This is all we saw of it," he said, clearly a bit distracted. "We tried to measure the length of its arm, compare it to that of a standard Minotaur and extrapolate its full height from there."

"Don't assume it is a Minotaur," Ikora told him, "We only have the elbow and that is not enough to assume. Take the forearm and hand and measure it against the other bipedal constructs."

"Yes, Ikora."

"Who have you spoken to about the Sol Divisive?"

"Not Asher."

"Good."

Asher was a good friend but was never the best at leaving well enough alone. "Sora knows nothing. Kayla and May know nothing," he listed off, "Neither can they find anything."

"You've not asked Aro?"

The question gave Aashir pause, one that stretched on nearly too long. "I figured it would be a waste of time," he surprisingly admitted. In truth, the man didn't take to studying and research, not like the rest of their clan's Warlocks did. There was little Aashir could think to ask him that he wouldn't be better served asking elsewhere.

"You discount him." It wasn't a question. "He is your commander. Do you find that wise?"

"He commands the clan," Aashir responds without thought. And barely even that, Aashir could see it in the faces of the others. Whatever trust, patience or deference they afforded Aro, Aro was quickly losing. He could thank his brother for that. He could thank himself for that.

"Aro commands the clan. My team and I obey you."

He regretted it as soon as it was said, his shoulders drooping with a quiet sigh. Ikora's lips quirked upwards, almost imperceptibly and a sardonic light flashed through her eyes.

Thankfully, she said nothing more on the topic. "You want Kayla to crack the Cabal terminal," she said instead, "We know they intend to take the gate and that they intend to do it by force. Do you think there's more to it?"

Aashir replied, "I believe there is a possibility. More so now, with what Sora's learned about the Psion Flayers.

"You heard."

Aashir stepped from side to side. "She asked my opinion on the matter, yes."

"And?"

"I agree with her. The Cabal make their first big venture so close to Rasputin decimating their forces. It coincides too well to be a...well, a coincidence."

Ikora only hummed again before going quiet. Again, he gave thanks that she found what was being projected more interesting than him. He could only bear her scrutiny for so long.

The silence ended abruptly. "Take everything we've discussed here and give it to Aro," she ordered, "He will decide the best way to disseminate the information among the rest of the team. He is the Guardian we chose as your head, therefore all of this warrants his insight, regardless of how you feel about his qualifications, his experience, his brother or his past."

Aashir was startled, more by the truth of her words than the sharpness by which they were said. Ikora keeps that cool and biting gaze on him and he doesn't dare avert his eyes. "Don't be so surprised," she said, "None of you are good at hiding it."

She turns away from him and takes a seat at her desk. "Await further instruction from there. Dismissed."

Aashir bowed slightly. Then he twisted on his heel and made his way to the door. It opened with a soft, mechanical sigh and Cayde, standing on the other side of it, took a step back and waved him past. He entered in the taller Exo's stead and let the door close.

Cayde twisted to face Ikora. "Motherhood suits you."

"Don't you dare."

He put up his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I suppose we all prefer comforting lies to the hard truth." Cayde sat down across from her, "Don't be ashamed." He would have put his boots up as well but Ikora's already threatened him countless times what she would do to his feet if he did. Has made good on the threat some of those times too.

The look Ikora fixes him with was practically charring. Or at least it would've been if Cayde were anyone else. It didn't last. Her face fell and she sighed. "I still don't know what I'm going to do with them."

"It's been a year…"

"I know how long it's been, Cayde. Time hasn't lessened the severity of what they did."

"Wasn't what I was saying," he clarified, "I'm saying the reason you're so indecisive is that, in addition to having little precedence, you don't want to punish them. You want to give them another chance."

"Baseless accusations."

"A chance to make it up to you. Or at least start earning your trust again." He paused when she brought her eyes off her desk up to him. "I'm not one of your baby Warlocks, like the one you just sent running from the room, stop giving me that look."

Ikora grunted again. Then she acquiesced and sighed again. She did that a lot in private. "What I want matters little," Ikora murmured. She tapped the desk with two of her fingers for emphasis, "Failing to respond would establish a bad precedent. I cannot afford to let this go unanswered. Or unpunished."

"Have you looked at them lately, Ikora?" Cayde asked her, gesturing at the door. "You haven't."

"Words and looks amount to nothing." Ikora looks more at him now than past him, observant. "You've never taken their insubordination as seriously as me and Zavala."

"You two made the order. I just went along with it."

"You disagreed then?"

Cayde leaned back in his chair, turning his blue eyes to the ceiling and the small fan that spun lazily overhead. "I agreed it was the safer choice, not trying to take the Vault. But if it had been me alone, with the same reason as them, I would've been on my way to Venus by nightfall." She continues staring at him to the point of discomfort, as if he were one of her little projects. "Oh, don't act so surprised."

"I'm not," she said. Then her brow and the air around her seemed to lighten. "But it does serve well to be reminded that it was for a very good reason."

Cayde spread his hands and to the surprise of both of them, Ikora laughed softly.

"Feeling better?"

"I suppose."

"You want tea?"

Ikora frowned. "We meet Sora…"

"In an hour. We've got time."

"Ah." She leaned back in her chair and brought up another report, a wall of text projected into the air. She gestured distractedly to the back wall. "Then my kit is over there."

"Actually...you know." Cayde gestures to her. "Since I'm a guest…"

Ikora Rey didn't even bother looking up at him. "Two sugars. Just a short touch of Solar Light for the water," she ordered, "You already know how I like it."

Cayde sighs loudly, obnoxiously enough that even Sundance felt the need to call him out on it. Still, he stood. One day, that will work.

"Is that really the material you wanna go with?" Christine asked, pushing long strands of dark hair from where they fell in her eyes. She continued poring over Tarlowe's screen. "Seems a bit...heavy."

Tarlowe yawned. "You calling me weak, sis?" He asked, not bothering to hide his grin.

Christine just shrugged. "You're...out of practice, to be frank."

"I don't want to talk to Frank right now, can you bring back Christine?"

That broke her concentration and got a smile out of her. "I will leave you here…"

Tarlowe put his hands up placatingly. "Fine, fine. What do you recommend?"

Christine only shrugged. "You're the designer here. Something lighter, is all I recommend. If it is to serve as a frame, it needs to be easy to move. Too much undue stress before you're ready and-"

"Bad things. I'll see what I can do." Tarlowe swipes the screen over to display another set of diagrams. "How's progress on the neural connections?"

"Slow. Painfully so."

"Even using Suros Regime as a basis?"

"The Regime is a weapon meant for a Guardian." Christine gestured to the screen. "This is not that. This is another beast entirely."

Tarlowe sighed. "Shame the old man didn't leave all the answers for us lying around like last time, huh?" The small laugh Christine let out sounded like the gentle ringing of bells. He was always glad to hear it.

Then she asked, "How long do you want to keep this from the others?"

"Until we've made appreciable progress."

"Have you really told no one?" She rose from her seat and headed over to the wall, pulling a bottle of water out of the small fridge and taking a second when Tarlowe requested it.

"I haven't. Not even Z."

"Or Daniel or Maya…"

"Daniel's got enough going on," he said.

"And I believe it would help him to know. Ease his mind a little about what's going on at home." When Tarlowe says nothing, keeping his eyes on the image between them and pointedly off of her, she tells him, "It's a good thing we're doing here."

"But no guarantee that it'll work." He snapped his response slightly and apologized silently. "Just don't...wanna get any hopes up," he said, quieter this time. "My own especially." Tarlowe let out a long exhale. Then he switched the projection back to the metal frames. "Think I can get some of the Titans' plasteel?"

"Shino's told me that Titan armor isn't as heavy as it seems," she said, "Just bulky. It's worth a shot and I'm sure Commander Zavala would be willing to help."

Tarlowe nodded. "Then I'll see what I can do. You just focus on the neural links and I'll get the outer shell work taken care…" He paused. From the other side of the desk, Christine could see a notification pop up from the lower bar. "Z's calling."

Tarlowe answered the call. "Hey, Z," he greeted, "Christine's here with me. How are things?" A useless question. They knew how bad things were.

The man's answer still raised some eyebrows. "Shit, Tarlowe," his curse, "That's how things are. Akira's forcing me to take a break."

"Someone should," Christine murmured.

"She took our son to the park, probably in the hopes that I'll get some rest. But I won't. Much too wired on coffee to do anything other than jitter at my desk."

"What've you been doing?" Tarlowe asked.

"Posting bail for those arrested, trying to curtail the use of force. Just to name a few."

"Why are you posting bail?"

"Because some of this crap has finally spilled over into Hideo's backyard. You know how he is, him and his vengeful streak. He's made it difficult for those arrested to take care of their own bail."

"I can help, you know," Tarlowe reminded him.

But Z was quick with the denial, "This is my burden," he said, "Trust me, I wouldn't wish this mess on anyone else."

"How long is your enforced break, Z?" Christine was curious.

"Akira demanded two hours. I argued down to one."

"Should've taken the two."

Z only chuckled darkly. "I originally argued for half an hour. This was the compromise. Also that I silence my phone and store it away so I don't have to see it ring and ring and ring and-"

"Who in the world is calling you so much?"

"Loving fans!" The vitriol was palpable. The weariness, even more so. "Protestors and other constituents," Z spat. "One side's angry I don't do enough to get them justice. The other demands I put down the unrest, by force, if necessary. As if I have a say. That things shouldn't have gotten this out of hand. That it was just an Exo."

Christine's usual gentle expression twisted into a tight scowl. "Awful thing to say."

"They'll think of worse before the week's out. And I'm sure I'll get to hear it all." Z sighs heavily again. Through the speaker, they could almost hear the sound of the man rubbing the lack of sleep from his eyes. Then he spoke again. "I'll leave you guys alone. I'm sure you're busy."

"Take your break, Z," Tarlowe all but ordered, "The world's not going anywhere. And you can talk to us, if you need to."

"Thank you, Tawlowe, Christine. But I'd rather not make this a habit."

"Z-" The line cut. Tarlowe closed the program with a grunt. "I don't get it, what does he gain from being so stubborn?"

The look Christine affixes him with tells of an inside joke. One that flies right over his head. "What?"

"Nothing." She stands. "Just that self-awareness doesn't seem to be your thing."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Nothing at all."

One could almost hear the gears whirring in his head. "Get out," Tarlowe growled.

She didn't dignify his fake vitriol with a response. Her back was already retreating, heading for the door without a look back.

Tarlowe brought up the framing diagram again when Christine left his study. Then he opened a new page and started penning a letter to the Titan Vanguard.

I know this story seems to be slogging along, what with the slow uploads and lack of action but I promise it has a payoff. I wanted to focus on characterization early and for a lot of characters because the ending of this book will have no room for it and Book 5 will have Aro and Pride right at the forefront, with no space for anyone else.