Forced into Hiding (Vandham, Lila Brown OC)

a/n: Lila Brown is hunting for something in NLA and it isn't a lobster.

The lighting in the corridor was dim, but she spotted the difference as soon as she turned the corner. Up ahead there was a blast door, the same as dozens she'd passed, which wasn't sealed smooth against the wall. She walked softly and slowly up to it, trying to ignore the part of her brain that knew this was the one. There was no proof. It could have been the result of cleaning staff or scavengers or damage from the crash. It could be her eyes playing tricks on her.

There were smudges along the edge of the door. Someone had opened it and closed it recently. She reached up to touch the highest fingerprints. She hadn't needed to go on tiptoes, not this time. She'd had to do that on the Whale when he put his tools on high shelves.

She considered her options. She could open the door, sure. She feared no lock in the remnants of what had been on her home for two years. She'd been bored for parts of the voyage, in spite of the workload in Engineering, and she'd learned a few tricks including lockpicking. The door might not even be locked. Its weight was intimidating, but her current job involved maneuvering unmanned skells into fueling bays and that required fearlessness in the face of mere size.

But she didn't want to barge in on something. She was not going to imagine what that something was. The Commander could be doing any number of things and he might be peevish about being interrupted. So knocking was the best decision for her first attempt.

Knocking was not a good decision. It left her with stinging knuckles, and she could just as well have patted the door like a tiny kitten for all the noise she made. Flesh against half a meter of steel was not going to cut it. Luckily, she had brought her favorite wrench. It had come in handy when she initially entered the defensive walls that guarded the city. It could still be handy as a doorbell.

She battered the door, waited, battered it again. She couldn't hear anything, but she swore she could sense footsteps through the deck. The door pushed open, not enough to clear the wall completely. A hairline crack appeared, light whispering into the corridor.

"What?"

It was his voice. The tension in her brain unspooled, taking with it any logic. "Candy-gram," she yelled.

She had been telling herself not to expect anything for hours now, and he still managed to surprise her. The door flashed open and shut, and in the space of that moment two hands reached out, lifted her off the floor, and pulled her into the hideout. She was set neatly on the floor of an abandoned evacuation room. She tried to look around without appearing impolite. Emergency lantern casting a soft glow. A neat box for rations (mostly empty), a neat box for trash (half full), a neat box for recycling (full, beer bottles, flattened cardboard). An emergency stretcher repurposed as a bed, grey military blankets tucked flat. A wall screen showing two men in a garden, discussing something with an intensity that meant nothing to her. The air was fresher than the hallway; he may not have turned on the lights but he'd improved the air intake.

"You don't have any candy," Commander Vandham said flatly.

"No. I thought saying I had pizza would be too cruel."

He sighed and sat down on the cot. "How'd you find me?"

"I looked places that other people wouldn't." She sat carefully next to him. "I thought about places where I would have hidden."

He heaved a sigh, watched the two actors for a moment, then nodded. "I couldn't stand being in my rooms. Couldn't rest, knowing that someone was going to come banging at my door any time, needing me for some damn meeting. Or paperwork."

"Sorry about coming now," she said, "but it's been three days."

"No." He sounded shocked.

"Over forty-eight hours, anyway."

He wriggled some fingers, contemplating the time. "Yeah, that tracks. It's not Monday, though?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"I must have slept through most of Saturday. I guess I should be up at at 'em. It's fine. I was starting to miss fresh coffee." He stood up and stretched. He had to curl his arms to avoid banging the ceiling. "Do me a favor, though," he began.

"I never saw this place," she said without any prompting.

a/n: He was watching Godfather I, the scene with Michael and Vito planning in the garden. He watched all three movies that weekend, but the first movie is always worth another rewatch.

Next up: The beginning of the World. There will be Nopon unless someone gives me a suggestion in the next 12 hours.