Surprise surprise, double update? O.o

Went from thinking this chapter wasn't going to be long enough by itself to it being the longest chapter yet :3 oh well writing do be like that sometimes.


Mime lets out a full body squeal when she sees the flower meadow. Before Victoria can even draw breath, the little spirit hurtles into the tall grass and flowers, rolling around like a cat might in a pile of catnip. Where she goes, Morgan follows, the pair's laughter drifting back on the wind.

"Seems like their spirits are still flying high," Michael remarks fondly, crouching down to admire some carnations while keeping an eye on the pair. They've grown on him over the last week or so—it's refreshing and encouraging to see how they support each other at every turn, even if they just met less than a week ago and have no idea what's waiting around the corner.

He glances at Victoria, expecting to see her watching Morgan and Mime like they might get swallowed up by the meadow if she so much as blinks, but she isn't watching them. She's watching him, with a look of uncertainty so uncharacteristic for her that all he can do in response is stare back.

"Listen," she starts, with a strange edge in her tone unlike her typical prickliness, "about this morning-"

"Forget about it," he interrupts breezily, standing with a careless smile to cover the rising uneasiness. "You weren't wrong."

Her shoulders tense, ruby eyes sparking, and he's certain that she'll leave at that, perhaps with an abrasive parting remark.

Instead, she says, "Well, maybe I'd like to be."

In the mines, when she admitted to the corruption in the Empire who would rather hide a crisis than listen to a foreigner, he told her that honesty suited her, framing it as a joke, but one that he meant whole-heartedly. In the moment, he hadn't thought about the fact that honesty could sometimes require just as much awkward, uncomfortable soul-searching on the recipient's end.

From quite some distance away, Mime's voice, pitched high with uncertainty, shouts, "Victoria!"

The Knight takes off instantly, sword drawn, before Michael can so much as draw breath to tell her not to rush off. He scrambles to catch up, following in the impressions she makes through the tall grass and flowers. Mime's bright pink locks soon come into view, along with Morgan's pale hair and a splash of vibrant ginger red. It looks like they've found the girl.

But, on second glance, Marie isn't alone.

"Oh dear," he says aloud as they slow to a cautious walk. "This…could be a problem."

Victoria gives him a mildly surprised look. "Glad we're on the same page for once."

"All the same," he adds, "maybe don't go in swinging first."

"I wasn't going to," she replies crossly as she sheathes her sword. "It's much too close to the girl right now."

Sure enough, they've found the girl, who stares at them in wary curiosity, her overall pockets full of flowers, accompanied by a glowing, winged mote of light. Michael has encountered a fairy only once before, when one latched onto one of the children in his old group, drawn by the child's nature magic. When the child refused to leave Michael and the others, the upset fairy attacked—much like a toddler losing a favored toy—but it soon fled after realizing just how many magi it had angered in turn.

Morgan looks at Victoria in relief and worry. "What do we do? Marie says the fairy is her friend, and-"

"Whispy," Marie insists. "His name is Whispy, and he protects me from bullies."

Michael glances at Victoria. "They're incredibly rare creatures. We should try to settle this peacefully." No matter how the Empire views any magical creatures as dangerous, it seems cruel and narrow-minded to attempt to kill each one that poses any sort of threat when they're already so few and far in between.

"Maybe if we talk to him, we can convince him that she'll be safe with her father?" Mime suggests hopefully, ears pricked up and alert.

"I don't really think the fairy is willing to believe a human," Victoria says dubiously, gripping her sword with white knuckles.

"Well, that's where our dear Mime comes in," Michael points out, giving the spirit a reassuring smile. "You think you're up for the task?"

Mime visibly brightens, golden eyes like miniature suns. "Yes! I'll do my best!"

Victoria looks as if she's about to protest but holds back, giving a grudging nod. Morgan gives Mime a reassuring smile, and the little spirit steps forward. The fairy immediately focuses on her, his glow flaring cautiously as Mime politely prompts him to explain why he has taken Marie.

As Whispy stubbornly insists that Marie is safe with him, Victoria's posture tenses more and more, brittle with nerves at letting someone else stand at the front lines facing the danger. Without thinking, Michael reaches out to squeeze her shoulder, partially to hold her back from intervening at the wrong time, and partially to comfort. As soon as his fingers touch her shoulder, she stiffens, and he wonders if he has misstepped. A moment later, though, he thinks he can feel her relax, even if she had to force herself to.

Meanwhile, Mime is growing more confident, smiling as she explains her faith in humans and their potential to right their wrongs. Michael can't help but smile himself. This little spirit, in the course of a few days, has come to believe in people more than he has for most of his own life.

Unfortunately, the fairy does not appear to be of the same mind. Everyone jumps when his glow flares a threatening crimson as he angrily brands Mime a traitor. Mime backs up rapidly, and Marie trips and falls to the ground with a squeak of alarm.

"Michael!" Victoria shouts, lunging to scoop up Marie and shielding her with her own body.

He's already moving, sweeping his hands out to the sides. A purple latticework of light flares to life, sending the writhing red fairy recoiling back. Victoria shoves Marie into his arms, and he lets the shield drop.

The fairy bursts into motion as Victoria rushes forward. In a streak of red, he darts right through her guard. She flips her sword to her right hand as her left comes up to shield, and red droplets fling through the air.

Undaunted, she slashes her sword in one precise movement. With a furious howl, the fairy bursts into tiny shards of light.

Marie gives a frightened cry, hiding her face in Michael's shoulder. He shifts her weight to hold her more securely and pats her back, hushing her gently. It's been a handful of years since he's had much to do with children; he's forgotten how daunting it can be at times.

"Victoria!"

At Mime's frightened exclamation, he looks up to see the spirit fretting over Victoria's hand, which is dripping blood from a short gash on her palm, though she doesn't appear fazed. Already, she's pulling some bandages out of a small pouch attached to her belt, attempting to bandage her own hand.

Michael sets Marie down and steps closer. "Here, let me."

"I can do it myself-"

"I'm sure, but you don't have to," he points out, taking her wrist in one hand carefully. "Don't worry, I've patched up plenty of cuts and scrapes from kids who look like they got into a fight with a rose bush. I know what I'm doing."

Careful not to tighten the bandage too much, he ties it off and looks up. Her face is still flushed from adrenaline and startlingly close to his; all of a sudden, he is very aware of her pulse beating beneath his fingers.

Trying not to seem too hasty about it, he drops her hand and proclaims cheerfully, "All done! You might want to go easy on the sword waving with that hand for a few days, though. Doctor's orders. And I know—it's a tall order for you, but you'll live."

In response, she scoffs and gives a tiny smug smirk, lifting her chin with a glint in her ruby eyes, and something swoops in his stomach.

"I appreciate your concern, Michael," she says dryly, "but if you haven't already noticed, I am equally skilled with both hands when it comes to swordsmanship."

"Ah," is just about the only thing he can come up with, "what a shame."

Meanwhile, Morgan and Mime have been busy comforting Marie. When the two older adults turn their attention to her, she sniffles and says tearfully, "I'm sorry you got hurt."

Victoria sighs but visibly softens her expression—another fascinating, artificial change. It's clear that it doesn't come naturally to her, yet just like with those children in the market, she treats Marie with honest patience.

"It was just a scratch," she says, crouching down. "Nothing to worry about. Are you alright?"

Marie sniffles again. "My foot hurts…"

"I think she rolled her ankle when she fell," Morgan explains. "It looks like she'll be fine if she takes it easy."

"Good. Let's find the others and take her back to town."

Mime's face falls as she looks around. "We're leaving already?"

"We did what we came to do," Victoria points out. "No point in staying any longer."

"Can we?" Morgan asks hopefully. "It's really nice out here…And I kinda wanted to collect some more flowers to experiment with."

Victoria wavers, staring dubiously at the two, but perhaps the altercation and Mime's courage paid off. "Just don't stay too long. We'll have lunch back at the shop. Be sure to come back with Ann and Kaidan."

Both young faces brighten as they happily chorus, "Okay!" With goodbye waves to Marie, they set off into the meadow, chattering eagerly about flowers and alchemy recipes.

Victoria glances at Michael. "You're not going with them?"

"I thought you didn't want me to leave your side," he teases, eliciting an eyeroll. "Unless you think I should stay with them. They are trouble magnets."

She wavers at the choice he's given her—to follow up on what they were talking about before they found Marie, or to forget about it.

"You can come back with me," she decides, holding his gaze.

He nods and turns his attention to Marie, smiling at her. "I'm sorry about your foot, but I'm sure Victoria would be more than willing to give you a ride back on her shoulders."

"Hey," Victoria grumbles at being volunteered, but she relents at Marie's hopeful expression. "Fine."

It is with an inordinate—and in hindsight, frankly baffling—amount of interest that Michael watches Victoria draw her long ponytail in front of her, her hair tumbling over her shoulder in a waterfall of black, shining almost blue under the sun. What is wrong with him today? He must still be discombobulated from their not-argument earlier.

Without fuss or ceremony, Victoria picks up the little girl under her arms and hoists her up over her head, settling the girl on her broad shoulders as if Marie weighs nothing more than a feather. Marie squeals happily at her new vantage point, face bright, and Michael marvels at children's ability to bounce back from fear.

"You're taller than I am up there," he remarks, eliciting a giggle. "Well, onward we go!"

o0o0o

Carrying Marie, in itself, all the way back out of the woods and through town is not the annoying part; the girl barely weighs anything. It's not even that Marie, likely attempting to distract herself from what happened, starts braiding Victoria's hair and weaving a plainly bizarre amount of flowers into said braids—how she keeps pulling handfuls of flowers out of her little overall pockets is beyond Victoria—while humming nonsensical tunes.

No, the annoying part is Michael, as usual, shamelessly grinning at Victoria's complete inability to do anything about it lest she upset Marie, and running a nonstop commentary on the meanings of each flower that the girl puts in Victoria's hair, just to let her know how absurd she surely looks.

Marie is having fun, though, so Victoria keeps her mouth shut.

They arrive soon at the restaurant where a close friend of Marie's father works—he'd told them to bring her to the restaurant manager if they found her before he did. Victoria watches them carefully before deciding that Marie appears safe in her father's friend's care.

She gives the manager an abridged version of the events while Michael entertains Marie with some sleight of hand tricks, pretending to pull flowers out of her ears and sneeze them out of his nose. He's unsurprisingly good with children, likely from having been a surrogate older sibling to whatever strays his traveling magi band picked up. When he smiles at Marie, it doesn't seem fake, although there's a hint of wistful nostalgia instead.

Perhaps that is the answer to the question she'd asked earlier this morning—why did he care about Kaidan's feelings on being trapped in the shop?—before she snapped at him. He is the oldest member of their band, and although sometimes he can act like a child that never grew up, that child is one that looks after others.

He protected Morgan and Mime from Ronan, spent his free nighttime hours sewing together what she now realizes is Kaidan's disguise, offered that pastry to Mime when she was feeling down, and comforted Marie when she was in distress. He brings Ann coffee whenever they visit the Tinker tinkering away in Quinn's storage room, and Victoria has a sneaking suspicion that yesterday, just hours after she'd used up the last of the ginger to make herself tea, it was Michael who went out and bought more when she wasn't looking.

He looks out for them all, this chaotic mage, from behind his surface smile. There are plenty of people in this world—magi or not—who are, at best, indifferent to others' plights, and at worst, willing to cause suffering to serve their own interests.

Nothing in what she's seen of him so far has given any indication that he is one of those people.

The manager insists on giving them some free takeout as a thank you, enough for everyone's lunch. While the food is being prepared, Victoria approaches Michael and Marie, who appear deep in conversation.

"And if those children ever bother you again," Michael is saying, "what are you going to do?"

Victoria crosses her arms with a frown, almost afraid to hear what Michael has been teaching the child, but Marie grins a gap-toothed grin and says promptly, "Ignore them. Or smile back. Or talk circles around them until they're too confused to be mean."

Michael's smile is surprisingly soft. "Exactly. There will always be ignorant people who will make judgements against you for something you can't control."

Unconsciously, Victoria's hands clench into fists, even as pain ripples from her bandaged hand.

"But," he continues, mulberry eyes warm and bright, "once in a while, there will come people who can see past that. Some of them you'll know right away. Some of them-" His gaze flickers to Victoria. "-not so much. But when they do come along, you keep ahold of them, no matter what."

Marie nods emphatically, and Michael pats her on the head and stands, turning to Victoria. "Shall we go?"

She nods, mechanical in comparison to Marie's bubbliness. They bid goodbye to the girl and step outside into the bustle of Anemone Valley once more.

"So," Michael starts; she doesn't have to look to see that he's grinning, "I saw your face. What did you think I was telling her?"

"Honestly? How to commit felonies," she huffs, staring straight ahead.

"Oh, come now, Victoria. Back home, we usually saved lessons on arson and fraud for the older kids," he snickers. "We like to start small for kids her size, with shoplifting and jaywalking and such."

"You're hilarious," she deadpans, finally turning to shoot him a glare.

His grin just grows wider. "What's really hilarious is how little I'm capable of taking you seriously right now with your hairdo."

Her jaw drops as realization dawns, and she stops in her tracks to paw furiously at the tangle of braids and flowers in her hair, face flushing with embarrassment while trying to keep a grip on the large paper bags containing everyone's lunch. All the while, he's doubled over laughing, full of mirth.

"Just leave it," he says once he's calmed down slightly, "you'll never get it all out without a mirror. Marie was very thorough. It's a shame, though—it's quite a look on you."

"Easy for you to say," she snaps, more exasperated than anything as she's forced to give up on her hair. "You're not the one who's going to be shedding flower petals for the rest of the day."

"I'm not," he agrees cheerfully, her glare sliding off of him like water from an umbrella.

"Make yourself useful, then, and carry this," she mutters, shoving one of the large paper bags of food at him.

He takes it in stride with a humorous, "Yes, ma'am."

This is the feeling she'd gotten used to, walking side by side with not just Michael, but the others as well, not merely keeping an eye on them from a safe and comfortable distance. Although, if this morning is any indication, comfortable is not exactly the right word to use anymore.

They arrive back at the shop before Victoria knows it, and she takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she says, turning to face him; the words don't come easily, but it is with a strange sense of relief that she finds that she means each one, "if I hurt you earlier."

Michael has the grace to not look too shocked by her declaration, restraining himself to a mild lift of his eyebrows, and if he is shocked, he does a good job of hiding it.

"To be quite honest," he muses aloud with a rueful half smile, "I don't really know how you did it. I thought…well, I thought I knew how you felt. And I thought I didn't care."

"So did I," she admits.

Regarding her carefully, he asks, "Why did you say it?"

His voice is unusually quiet, containing none of the typical, playful or teasing sarcasm, and he isn't smiling. At least he's taking her seriously now.

"I thought you were going to ask if I meant it," she says slowly.

At this, he snorts, a look of knowing in his unusually expressive features. "I don't need to. You are very easy to read. Maybe you meant it in the moment, but I don't think you would anymore." Tilting his head, he quirks a tiny smile at the face she's probably making. "So that's why I want to know instead why you said it."

Breathing out a sigh, she wrestles with this feeling of vulnerability. It's not even because of what he is, not anymore, and that's the strange part. She doesn't think his being a wild mage has anything to do with it. It's just that he's…Michael.

"Honesty suits you," he'd said down in the mines. She'd rolled her eyes then, but it strikes her now that she would rather be honest and vulnerable than lie to herself and the people she has, if grudgingly, come to respect.

"Because the last time I let myself form any sort of meaningful bond with a coworker," she states slowly, the flowers in her hair long forgotten in favor of fonder times, of the way it all ended, "that relationship is what ruined the mission and-" Her breath hitches on the shame rising from deep within her chest, where she'd buried and locked it away with that part of her heart that sought human companionship. "-and jeopardized the lives of innocent people."

Michael nods along. "And you've been too scared to grow close to anyone since."

"It's not fear," she objects automatically, "it's just common sense. Things go wrong when people care too much."

"On the contrary," he counters, "let me point out that we are stronger because we care. If we didn't have something we cared about, we'd have nothing to fight fear for." He takes a deep breath, sounding strangely unsteady but determined. "People have done extraordinary things because they care. None of us would be here if we didn't care. Kaidan came here to fix a problem that isn't his or his people's. Ann might seem like she only cares about her thesis, but I've seen the way she interacts with her so-called test subjects, and I'm sure that's not the case. And speaking of which, Morgan and Mime are in this whole mess because they have the compassion to help complete strangers at the cost of potentially losing everything themselves, and let's face it—they are key to solving this crisis."

Victoria stares, rendered speechless by the raw emotion in his voice. "It's…" The best she can come up with is a lame, "It's not that easy."

"Well, that's why you have us," he says as if it's so simple, but the warm look in his eyes makes her want to believe him. "You said you wanted our help. So let us help. It's not that bad, really. You're on your way already." With a half smile, he tells her, "You care. I know you care. But you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your own."

Part of her resists by instinct—no, by a guarded distance she hard-wired into herself after what happened with the Hunters. It isn't instinct, it's something she taught herself in self defense, thinking it would make her job easier and was even necessary. She realizes now that she may have to unlearn it in order to do her job here.

Morgan's voice suddenly calls from down the street, "Victoria! Michael!"

They both turn to see the alchemist leading the others back. Ann and Kaidan, the latter back in disguise, are deep in conversation over a small jam jar of dirt in Ann's gloved hand, while Mime walks along with an armful of flowers and more spilling out of the pockets of her tunic with each bouncy step.

"What are you even going to do with those?" Victoria asks Mime in exasperation.

"I dunno!" she replies cheerfully, eliciting a sigh. "Maybe we can make some perfume out of them? I'm sure there's some kind of alchemy recipe for that! Oh, and Elizabeth said she'd show me how to press flowers, and—and-"

To Victoria's confusion, Mime suddenly does a double take at her, golden eyes growing wide. Petals cascade to the ground as she tries to hold onto her treasure trove and cover her mouth at the same time, and Victoria realizes exactly what is the matter at the same time that an explosive snicker bursts out of the little spirit.

Morgan glances over as Victoria feels her face heating in mute embarrassment. "Mime, what are you—um. Victoria, you, um, you have a bit of-"

"Not. A. Word," she growls.

She shoves her bag into a snickering Michael's hands and yanks open the front doors to the shop. Elizabeth, who is manning the counter, looks up, opens her mouth, then closes it, lips twitching suspiciously at the corners as Victoria marches past her into the back.

"Can you save the petals?" Mime calls hopefully. "I wanna use them later!"

When she emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, having finally undone all of Marie's braids and pulled out what she thinks is all of the flowers, the others have gathered in the living room area on the picnic blanket again for lunch. Victoria unceremoniously plunks down a ceramic soap dish she stole from the bathroom, now full of withering flower petals, next to Mime, who squeals happily, and she finds a seat between Morgan and Michael.

Morgan glances over at them and smiles. "Glad to see you're getting along again," they say softly. Out of anyone else's mouth, Victoria wouldn't have believed it to be sincere. As it is, all she can do is shrug awkwardly, shooting a split second glance at Michael, who either didn't hear Morgan or simply shows no reaction.

"You missed one," is the first thing he says, reaching out with one hand.

Michael plucks a pale pink blossom from who knows where, his long, calloused fingers brushing just behind her ear. Her face and neck prickle with heat, probably a mixture of embarrassment and being out in the sun too long this morning. Annoyed with the strange, flustered feeling, she reminds herself that given the sleight of hand tricks he was showing off to Marie earlier, she wouldn't put it past him to have told her she missed one and then pulled it out of his own sleeve just to annoy her.

"Cherry blossom," he proclaims sagely. The blossom glows a soft violet, weaving through the air between his fingers before soaring into the soap dish. "It represents new beginnings in some places."

New beginnings. The very idea of new beginnings was terrifying once, when she was thrown out on her ear from the Hunters' Corps, had no home left to return to, and wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things were and make better choices. The right choices.

Michael's words echo in her mind. Was there a right choice to make?

Now, blindly hurtling along headlong into danger and law-breaking with allies she didn't choose, she finds that somehow, the unknown doesn't scare her so much.


Yay character development :D