Xenotober 2024 13 Frye and Irina pt 7 (no prompt)

a/n: Mediators. Why did it have to be Mediators? Frye and Irina barely escape. No editing because weekend.

The away station was inexplicably full of Mediators. That fact surprised Frye for a moment. He'd initially considered grabbing one or two randos, hell, maybe filling the entire team so Irina could keep on sleeping. But not with these guys, not them. The Mediators' main task was keeping the peace in New Los Angeles, mostly consisting of traffic control and listening to everyone's problems. They were not designed for combat, by training or personality. They crowded around Frye, happy to see him, wanting to know if he needed first aid, coffee, a snack. Wanting to know if he needed to, you know, talk about something.

It was probably just as well. If he had left Irina behind, she would have killed him when she woke up.

Frye shook them off gently, declining the first aid and accepting two paper cups of hot chocolate and a packet of cookies. He resolutely dodged the questions of "how are you, really?" He told himself the presence of Mediators was a good sign. The area couldn't be too much of a problem if the weakest division was minding the store.

Irina met him when he got halfway back to the skell. "Forget something?" she asked, holding out his jacket with understandable disgust.

"Come to papa," he said, passing her the warm drinks and cookies in return. He shrugged it on easily. Irina was already wearing her own set of medium Sakuraba armor, he noted.

"You weren't going to ditch me for the Nice Nice Squad, right?" said Irina. She must have seen the Mediator's logo, a pair of embracing half circles.

"I would never," swore Frye easily. "Besides, they're too busy, listening to imaginary xeno activity. Somebody's cousin's neighbor thought they saw some Ganglion soldiers nearby." He sniffed his drink. "Does this cocoa taste weird to you?"

"Normal people don't fortify it with vodka."

Frye couldn't look innocent, not when she was glaring at him with a milk mustache on her lip. "Knew I had forgotten something," he laughed.

They sipped in silence broken by the chirr of unseen insects. "I need to apologize," said Irina suddenly. "Laying into you like that. It wasn't right."

"It's fine," said Frye, hiding his discomfort. He had his suspicions about what came next.

"No, I was in the wrong," repeated Irina. And sure enough, she kept on talking. "It's just that you have family, and I hate watching people pretend like that's not worth everything. You have a chance that I'd give anything to have myself."

"It's not really your problem," said Frye, doing his best not to growl. God, he wished she hadn't bothered to apologize. Shallow and faintly hostile he could handle; Irina sharing her heart was nothing he felt safe to touch.

"No, but I've teamed with your brother. He's an okay guy. Not the world's greatest soldier, but he's trying and he's honest. He's a good kid. He mentions you and I think he misses you."

"Leave me out of it."

"Frye," said Irina. She stopped. Frye tipped his head up and stared at the smallest moon. "It's none of my business," Irina said quietly, "but you could have what the rest of us dream of."

The night sky was ordinary. The energy mist hadn't lasted long, and even five moons couldn't erase the darkness. "I dream of my dad," said Frye. "He could have been here, and god knows we could use someone like him. But he decided to give up his slot. I happened not to be cool with that, but no one wanted to hear my opinion. So now we don't talk."

"I shouldn't have said anything," said Irina.

The Mediators must have put truth serum in their cocoa, decided Frye. Whatever was going on, he was sick of it. Time to reclaim his status as baddest bad boy of New Los Angeles. He'd start with littering. He drained his cup, crumpled it, and tossed it into the bushes. That made him feel better, strong enough to shrug off the memories. "You lost Leon, I lost my dad, everyone in NLA has lost someone," he said. "So maybe give us all a break. That includes yourself. We all know what you're going through, at least a little, so let's skip the apologies and go shoot things."

a/n: Is this OOC? Maybe but this is also Cringetober, so yippee! Let's go shoot things.

Next up: Frye and Irina shoot things for half a story. We have at least two more to go.