aberrare (aberrare) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-01-16 17:55:00 |
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’66. “Mom, I’m fine. Really.” The redhead’s eyes were threatening to roll out of her head, Motorola buried in the crook of her shoulder as she struggled to heave two duffel bags up the steps to the RAC dorms. “Yeah, I know I left that jar of vitamins on my desk - it was massive and I can pick up some more here… I studied pharmaceuticals, remember, I know exactly what to get… you can actually buy socks in Ganymede, you know… oh my stars, Mother…” Tag remembered how overwhelming it was when he first got to the RAC dorms. Probably more overwhelming for him than most, considering not everyone came from a place like Callisto where everyone scowled and was allergic to happiness. He spent his first day stumbling around and getting lost, so he thought hey, why not be that helpful friendly face he'd been praying for. Also he was bored. Maybe a little hungry and people could have snacks. It could be a variety of things. And then he saw her. He had no idea how ridiculous he looked, stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, oblivious to people coming and going around him. His tunnel vision gave the redhaired beauty a perfect spotlight. She had a phone. He didn't know anyone who had a phone. Tag saw her tugging the bags, and he kickstarted his brain. He could swoop in! It was fate! He was there at the exact same time that a goddess needed a hand. He wasn't going to let opportunity pass him by, nope, thinking too much was for losers. Tag moved forward, putting on what he hoped was a casual smile. "Excuse me, could I ----" Right then, that jerkass Reese seemed to appear out of nowhere and step in front of him. Reese, with his gunner muscles and killer smile that he daily saw girls fawn over. He offered to take her bags instead, and Tag sighed, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at the ground. Seriously. Why did he even bother. Now they were probably going to get married. Mr. and Mrs. Reese the Jerkass. When he glanced up again, he realized that Reese had already taken the bags … and he was standing there looking right at her. And she was looking back at him. Oh shit. The beaming smile that the goddess had bestowed upon the gunner with the… pretty impressive guns faded into an expression of polite bewilderment as she saw the dark haired boy staring at her. “Um, if you’re lost too, we’re heading up to the seventh floor,” she offered. A voice squawked from the phone in her hand. Her expression turned into one of outright exasperation. “Mother. Yes, I am there right now… Someone’s offered to take my bags up the stairs for me and it’s really rude to keep him waiting. Bye, Mom. No. Bye.” She snapped the phone shut and jogged up the stairs to where Reese had paused. “I’m so sorry, she has attachment issues. Baby of the family. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. Are you the youngest in yours…?” Tag watched her run off and dejectedly walked back the way he came. Cue Charlie Brown music. ’66 He was bummed. No matter how hard he worked at some things, it never really seemed to click. Piloting was easy, piloting was natural, for someone who'd never done it before. But the other RAC-required subjects he often felt swamped in. His fighting skills in particular left something to be desired. Tag was determined to do well, but determination didn't mean it would happen. He wasn't failing, but he wasn't doing great. He walked away from training with a little slump to his scrawny shoulders, scraping his shoes on the ground. He was going to have to complain to Cody about it later. Tag turned the corner and found himself looking right at the same girl he'd seen only months before. It was impossible to miss her with a head of hair like that, also he thought about her a lot, but not in a creepy way. Most of the time. Just idly. Curiously. She'd been on the phone before, and now she was crying. Both times he didn't know what to do at first. Both times he chose to walk toward her. Dark eyes were guileless and concerned, and while joking was the only way he knew how to make people feel better, he didn't know how to joke with a complete stranger. "Hi. Um. I'm Tag," he said hesitantly. "Are you okay? Can I help? What's going on? Do I need to beat someone up? Or … ummmm … chocolate. Does chocolate help? Because I have some." He'd been hoarding it for when he was going to lament into it later, but he took out his coveted chocolate bar and offered it to her. Kirby blinked hesitantly, unsure of how to explain her crying fit in what she’d thought of as being a deserted hallway to a stranger, of which of the questions to answer first - the numeracy of them felt overwhelming on top of a day already full of overwhelmingness - then, because it seemed the more straightforward thing to do while she figured everything else out, she broke off a square of chocolate, popping it into her mouth and waiting for the endorphins to kick in. “T-thank you,” she said after a moment, chasing down the chocolate with a mouthful of water to help ease the hiccups. “I-” she waved a hand towards her outfit “-just got out of hand-to-hand. Jackson singled me out in front of the entire class.” Another sniffle, a mortified smile. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m leaning towards gunning as my speciality.” Tag groaned and nodded, leaning against the wall. "Oh I have so been there. I'm pretty sure that I only manage to pass out of pity sometimes." He was better at getting out of a fight than into one, and he would know enough to pass. But it wasn't an easy class by any means. "So any attempt at me trying to beat someone up for you would just wind up with Jackson knocking me around. I would still try!" He smiled, and his dimples flared to life with it, bringing a small smile from the redhead with them. He congratulated himself mentally with doing okay so far. "And seriously, a gunner? I don't know that I would've pegged that." He figured it was probably an insult to imply her choice was a bad one, so he hurried to explain. Tag had a way of talking so quickly it was almost like talking over himself. "Not in a bad way. You just seem nice. Not that gunners are mean. It's just that they're very …." He pushed out his chest and flexed his muscles, strutting around in their small space like he was a big bad gunner. Or one of his brothers. They would be great at gunning. That released a genuine chuckle, albeit a still watery one. “You wouldn’t make a half bad actor. Fortunately you don’t need big muscles to be a gunner. That’s kind of the whole point. My grandfather’s been taking me out hunting since I was little. I shot my first rabbit when I was seven. Cried for a whole hour afterwards. Couldn’t even eat the stew he made with it.” The second time, she had hardened herself towards it. Some boys tended to be a little taken aback when they found out about her past, hunting on Europa instead of being born of the metropolis of Ganymede where she so easily fitted in. Milton had been impressed. Tag was impressed too, his eyes widening with open curiosity. She leaned back against the wall, exhaling shakily. “I get that we could be in life or death situations out there-” more than most in the class, actually, oh, how she knew “-but I don’t get why he would think that humiliating someone who’s already bad at hand-to-hand helps them in any way.” She blinked up at the ceiling, the waterworks threatening a return once more. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even here.” "I'm just a pilot. The majority of this doesn't really seem to apply to the job." Tag was aware they were going to get in bad situations. It was drilled into their heads enough times. Maybe he'd always seen the RAC as space adventures, like cheesy novels, or as the only escape possible from Callisto. He wished he could think of anything to make it better for her, and usually that would mean talking. Or joking. Or buying her more chocolate. Instead he bit his lip and leaned on the wall across from her, dark eyes watchful. "My dad always said the only way to toughen up was for bad stuff to happen to you. Maybe he lives under the same idea." Tag was just someone who had to learn that lesson over and over again, until his father got disgusted and gave up. "But you're here because … there's something that the RAC provides for you. I don't know what it is, but it's what makes all of us put up with more and more crap. They throw everything at us so people who don't care enough walk away, and those of us who stay, well … we're kind of the crazy ones." He grinned and shrugged. "Cause it's crazy to go flying around the galaxy hunting criminals and going straight into trouble. Crazy isn't always bad." But you're here because … there's something that the RAC provides for you. Closure? Justice? A sense of family? It was bittersweet, sure, but there was a kind of comfort in being here, knowing that Dayton had stopped in front of the same entrance to the academy and gaped with awe and felt the rush and tingling of nerves that he was finally here, that he might have sat at the same table, on the same chair, as her in the cafeteria. Even been tumbled onto the same mats and yelled at by the same instructor. Tag was right. She needed something from the RAC, something she could find nowhere else, and nothing was going to stop her from getting it. Kirby slipped her jacket on over her shoulders, feeling her Motorola bang against her hipbone as she did so. She had been considering a call to Milton before the other boy had arrived. Milton though, he would have been sympathetic, but not really got it, her sense of frustration and helplessness. Obstacles to Milton were just challenges that he would succeed at eventually, things to add fuel to his motivations. Her high school sweetheart had never really met anything that he had exhibited a distinct lack of talent for. But this boy? This boy got it. “I’m Kirby,” she said, as if coming to a decision, offering a hand. “And I owe you some chocolate.” The goddess had a name. Tag took her hand and shook it with enthusiasm. He probably would have made a good actor. He had a certain type of flair and exaggeration to his movements. "You owe me like one mouthful of chocolate. It's not even good chocolate." His meager amount of money meant everything was cheap. "Hey, do you want to hang out and make fun of Jackson? I have a list of things that are easily mockable. Like his face. It looks like he's been sucking on lemons all day." He made the face at her, sucking in his cheeks. Kirby laughed. “Sure,” she said. “Just let me get changed into something else first.” ’67 “Do you see him?” Kirby nudged Cody’s side. “Second row, third from right. I won’t be able to tell whether the guy next to him is rocking a man bun or not until I get a look at his face. Turn around turn around turn around,” she began to chant under her breath. The elderly couple two seats down from their shot them a look. Kirby pressed her lips together and folded her hands primly in her lap. Oops. It was happening. It was happening. Tag couldn't believe it, but he managed to graduate. Not top of his class, no, but good enough, and at this point, he wasn't complaining. He was practically bouncing in his seat. He chattered to everyone in his row until someone hissed at him to shut up, and he bit his lip. As soon as he was able, he started peeking over his shoulder, but he accidentally made eye contact with at least three people who glared at him. Tag just shrugged as if to say 'sorry,' and kept sneaking peeks. He wasn't looking for the grim faces of his father and brothers, because they flat out refused to come. He shouldn't have bothered to ask. Finally Tag ducked and weaved enough he could look back, and he managed to find the faces he was looking for at the right time. Kirby, still poised on her seat as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, tilted her head at the couple next to her and Cody, and shot him a wink. A giant grin split across his face, and he wanted to wave so much he practically had to hold his arms at his sides as tightly as possible. Instead he wagged his brows at her and jerked his head to the guy nearby. Man bun he mouthed. And just like that, the ghost of five years past appeared - a boy with hair a few shades lighter and eyes closer to hazel than her own - had caught her eye and made a face as the speaker droned on - she had stifled a giggle… This was what Dayton had done five years ago. This was what Tag was doing now. This was what she would do a year in the future, gradually catching up to her now-gone brother until her experiences and years overtook his own. She managed a distracted smile back at Tag. Sometimes shadows crept into even the sunniest of days. Tag knew Kirby, and he knew Kirby faces, so he noticed the change. What? he mouthed to her again. The couple next to her were clearly unamused with their interaction, but he didn't care. The man bun nudged him. You okay? he mouthed again, his mouth very careful in enunciating everything so it translated. Maybe overboard, but he learned some of the acting tricks from her. He nudged man bun back. Yeah, Kirby mouthed back, closing her forefinger and thumb together to make an a-okay signal. Today was Tag’s, not Dayton’s. She would do her best to remind herself of that. Tag tilted his head curiously at her, but then gave her a thumbs up. She'd tell him later if she wanted to. Right then they told everyone to get ready for the names to be called, and he had to focus. When his name was called, he let himself wave at his friends, resisting the urge to dance and make a spectacle of himself. That would be for later. And he knew he would be there one year later, the face in the crowd for Kirby and the other '68ers to look for. ’68 The captain of the Cherry Bombers was not a tall woman, but her presence and her vast quantity of hair dwarfed the entryway. “No boys allowed,” she stated firmly, folding her arms and staring down her new gunner. Who was doing her best to hold her ground. Emphasis on her best. “But-” Kirby managed. Tag stayed behind her, not worried about his ego enough to try and take on the terrifying captain of the Cherry Bombers. He was all wide eyes and anxiety, waiting. “Just kidding.” Destiny’s face split into a big grin. Tag let out an audible sigh of relief. “We’re not sexist douches like the Collins. Even Lavender’s bunny is male. We think. He’s welcome aboard. Just make sure he’s gone by the time we take off for TJ. We shove the male stowaways out the airlock.” “She doesn’t really,” Kirby whispered behind Destiny’s departing back. “I think….” He looked at her, and then the captain, and finally shrugged. "Eh, it's a risk I'm willing to take." Tag smiled and walked onto the ship. He looked around him with a curious gaze, delighted by all the little differences he could see. He was not great at engineering or that part of the RAC, but he still admired ship designs. "This is already like ten times better than the Appletini." That went without saying because the magnificent failure that was the Appletini was well known. He waited until they were in her room before speaking his mind, which was impressive, considering he was terrible at holding back anything. "So are you mega into the Rah Rah Ladies attitude now? You're not going to swear off men from your life, right?" “Noooo. That’s just a stereotype. The navigator and one of the pilots both have boyfriends, and Rhia? Definitely likes boys. Although maybe next time I meet Liam, I’ll dress in all black and combat boots and tell him that I no longer have time for him and other male oppressors.” Kirby giggled. The way Liam would react to that would probably be to drag her into his room and speedily rid her of the offending attire. “Anyway.” She waved a hand around. “What do you think?” "Oh yeah. Sounds like fun roleplay." Tag made a face because no thank you imagining that with her and whatshisface. Kirby made one right back. He was hoping this one would be like the others, eventually discovered as unworthy and off with them. But that was a waiting game. He smiled at her decorated little area and hopped onto her bed, bouncing a little. He picked up one of her stuffed animals. "It's very you." Dark eyes looked at the sign 'BE BOLD BE BRAVE BE YOU.' "Pretty sure you're already succeeding at that," he said, waving a hand toward it. "I mean you're a gunner for a badass chick brigade on a spaceship." “It’s nice to have as a reminder sometimes.” Kirby’s gaze followed his to the sign, her smile slightly wistful. Tag had a habit of looking at her when she was looking away. What his wistful looks said, he wasn't sure, but it was gone by the time she spoke to him again. “You’ll get off that stupid ship someday, don’t worry. I mean, as a pilot it’s got to be pretty obvious when you’re doing a good job, right? I’m sure they’ve never crashed when you’re driving them.” "But we never win anything. They throw us low ball stuff, and I can't even blame them. If I thought the team would live up to a challenge, I'd beg for it." Kirby opened her mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it. Talented pilot that her friend was, there was no defending his ship. Tag looked down for a moment, but he shook it off. He physically shook it off. "But that's not the point. The point is! Your first assignment." He grinned and waved his arms around. "You did it. See, aren't you glad you didn't give up because lemonface was a jerk?" “You bet I am! Suck it, Lemonface. No pun intended.” She glanced down at Tag, her broad smile matching his own. “On my bed already, are you? Liam will be jealous you beat him to it.” Tag laughed. "Pun not intended, but hilarious all the same." His eyebrows rose sharply. "Hey I'm the first guy on your bed. I'm claiming it for me then. It'd be a violation of the um treaty of … Tagville, if any other guy was on it." He shrugged innocently. "I didn't make the rules." If he thought too much about Kirby and Liam in this bed in a few months, laughing and talking and sharing thoughts and dreams, he was going to get sick. That's of course how he imagined a real relationship. He lay back on her bed and looked at the ceiling, for five seconds imagining that he was that guy and she was going to join him. Instead he let it pass and glanced over to her. "I haven't pinpointed something about him to mock yet, but believe you me, I'm planning. So it's going well so far?" “It’s going great. Aaaaaand he likes emoticons. See what a good friend I am? I’m pretty much handing that one to you. I mean, I like emoticons too, but I’m not a bad arse killjoy.” Kirby flopped onto the bed next to him with a contented sigh. “So Tijuana, huh? Do they really serve all their drinks with umbrellas?” "I like emoticons too. I'll keep searching. Within reason, since I don't want to cross a bad arse killjoy." Tag was fairly certain Liam could string him up by his ankles and he'd be unable to do anything about it. He'd have to tolerate the man until Kirby was past it. She was probably just in the bad boy killjoy stage, everyone had to have one of those, right? Right. "If you ask for them, yeah, in any drink. I always ask for one." He smiled over at her. "I'm happy for you, Kirb." ’70 “Thank god you're here.” Destiny all but dragged the pilot through the entryway. “She's been - well. We adore Kirby but…” we've been having to remind ourselves of that was the unspoken taglines. The ship's navigator didn't look quite so generous. Tag wasn't used to them being this pleased to see him, so things must be dire. "It's okay. I'm the cheer doctor. Or something." He gave her a thumbs up and then took in a breath and let it out. It wasn't the first time he'd showed up with chocolate, a new stuffed animal, and a hug, but he knew this was a little different than most. He stepped inside her bunk and rubbed the back of his neck. His hair was a longer than usual, he was trying a new look, hoping it would make a difference. It did get him the attention of the second woman to notice him, so that was nice. "Hi Kirb." “Hey.” She was rolled up in her duvet like some bizarre caterpillar entering chrysalis, her mascara smeared and her hair stuck to cheeks wet with tears. He had been through this with her far too many times. There was little else to say, and nothing at all that she felt like saying, so she simply patted a space on the mattress next to her and shifted over slightly. Tag hated seeing her like this. Yet again a jerkface managed to shake her to her core, and he wished he could shake Liam instead. And ask how he could possibly let her go. How anyone could possibly let her go. He sat down on the mattress next to her and put an arm around her shoulder, giving her space to snuggle up against him if that made it partly better. He set the chocolate bar and stuffed animal on her lap. "Do I need to fight him? Because he will totally break me, but I will do it anyway." A shaky whisper of a laugh at that, threatening to catch on a sob. “No. I can’t handle you being broken as well.” She twisted, curling around him so that her middle was braced against his back. “Rhia’s out getting me ice cream if you have any requests. God, I’m such a cliche.” "What's wrong with being a cliche? It's a cliche for a reason, because everyone's been there." Tag pulled her in close and hugged her. "Remember when Andrea broke up with me and I moaned I was going to die alone and my life was over? That was after like three months. You guys were together a lot longer." It was his first relationship and break up, so it seemed like a much bigger deal at the time, but it still wasn't one that had a lot of depth to it. "Any guy who would let you go is an idiot. You are the best thing that happens to any of them." “And any girl that doesn’t snap you up is an idiot.” She shifted around so that her head was propped up against his thigh, red hair splayed over his jeans. “Let’s get drunk and eat ice cream and bitch about how stupid boys and girls are together. Don’t worry, I won’t make you do your nails.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. "Good, because I still haven't heard the end of it the last time I let you do that." Kirby chuckled, reached up to catch his wrist. '71 Pluto was misery. An entire month of being stuck in one place was enough for Tag, but it wasn't even an entertaining place. It was ugly and somehow boring at the same time. He was there for only a few days before he started getting stir crazy. By the end he was pretty close to screaming for no reason other than to get energy out of his system. When he was finally given permission to fly away from that hell hole, he couldn't get them out fast enough. The worst part was the lack of communication. Maybe if he'd been able to talk to his friends while he was there, he would've had an easier time. He liked the Slingers, but not enough to only talk to them every. freaking. day. So as soon as they were clear to talk again, he shouted out on the network they were coming back, wahoo, wahooooo! Tag practically skipped his way off the ship, yelling playfully that he was never coming back, and he turned around to see that a certain someone was waiting for him. His heart sped up and his smile was so wide it threatened to hurt his face, and he felt for one mad moment like he was going to kiss her for the first time. It was just this crazy impulse he knew he was going to ignore, but he let himself believe in it up until he actually walked up to her. "Best welcome wagon I've ever had," Tag told her honestly. “Oi! What’s this?” Kirby’s lips formed an exaggerated pout as she gestured to the space between them, then rectified the matter by launching herself bodily into Tag’s arms, the helium balloon with Welcome Back emblazoned across it in glittery letters temporarily forgotten. “Pluto must have been bad if you’ve forgotten how to give hugs,” she teased, her voice muffled by his sweater. "I was playing it cool, woman! I now have prison cred." Tag laughed and caught her, blown back a few steps by her enthusiasm, but he loved it. He put both arms around her and rested his head down into her hair. He rarely let himself indulge in that, since smelling her hair longingly was not much of a friend trait. But it'd been a month. He needed to over-indulge in Kirby as much as he could. And Kirby, who had likewise missed him, clung to him as if she could squeeze a month’s worth of hugs into this one. "I'm joking of course, I have no cred." The whole terrible month wasn't so bad at the moment. Except it reminded him that every day he missed her and that might've been the worst part. "Okay!" he said, mostly for himself, because he was starting to think about kissing her again. "You need to tell me everything I missed." “Your wish is my command.” She dropped into a half-curtsey and took his arm, leading him away from his crew and the rest of their friends. “Okay! So first things first. We got the open bounty last week. Some corrupt priest on Mars. But even though you just got back from prison, you’re going to have to be really nice to me and buy me ice cream and stuff because I just ended an engagement! Well, kind of,” she amended, surprisingly chipper for a woman who was apparently heartbroken. "Oh hey, bounty wins, right on." Tag was glad he was finally with a ship that could actually do a bounty win, although they hadn't during Pluto obviously. But soon. He blinked at that last part and looked over at her, his expression a mixture of curious and incredulous. "What? You were? What?" Double take. “To a charming, brooding Callistan hunter named Vasily.” She raised her hand to her chest in an ‘oh my’ gesture. “Okay, so it was the captain and we were going undercover as a couple who were wanting to get married. But I still say it counts.” From beneath her eyelashes, green eyes were observing him, watching for his reaction even with a smile playing upon her lips. Tag thought he was going to flip out from that description alone. Another Callistan???? Come on! He was so surprised, but it came into focus since she wasn't acting all fluttery like she usually did when it was a guy. "Oh my god, I was this close to passing out." Kirby giggled, delighting at his expression. He ran his free hand through his hair and over his face, letting his tension slip away into relief. It was one thing to see the guys come in and out. It was another for an engagement. "And the Captain? He is terrifying. I can't even see that." Or maybe he could a little, he was all broody and intimidating, girls liked that. Did Kirby like that? He was never going to be that. “Well of course I can’t either!” Kirby laughed. “He’s my captain and we had to act like we were besotted with each other, it was weird. The Callisto thing was my idea - that way I could do all the talking and he just had to react to me. And hush.” She swatted at his arm. “He’s a pussy cat. He just takes some getting used to. It’s not his fault that there’s something defective with his face and he can’t really smile, don’t judge.” Another peal of laughter. "That is so weird." He shook his head at her. "He is not a pussy cat. He's a man eating lion. He would rip the flesh off the bones of his enemies." Tag knew when to hide from people like that. He knew that Castor would never do anything to his actual crew though. He was an honorable guy. A terrifying honorable guy. He grinned at her, he did love it when she laughed. "I'm trying to picture doing the same with Euphie. I could see it actually. But we'd both want to do the talking and probably speak over each other." His Captain was pretty cool, if a little weird, but he liked weird. A sentiment shared by the girl next to him. “Your captain is gorgeous though.” The look on Kirby’s face was somewhat searching, examining her friend’s face for anything that rippled when she brought up Euphemia. “And she’s so young. Castor’s like… a grumpy uncle. Or something.” "I guess she is? I haven't really thought about it." Tag liked beautiful women, but usually he only looked at them from a distance and never did anything about it. He knew what his exact type was, it was just zeroed in. He looked back at her and laughed. "Castor's younger than Euphie, Kirb. Isn't he the youngest Captain? I think I've heard that. Not that you'd know it because he's terrifying." Scary and young didn't go together usually. “Honestly I forget that he’s just a few years older than us most of the time. Like I said, grumpy uncle type.” She grinned. “And seriously, how could you not notice that your captain is a knockout? You were only stuck on a planet with her for a month. Although I guess you had bigger priorities.” She nuzzled her head against his shoulder. Pluto was no picnic. “Anyway, I have a cake waiting back in the kitchen. If you think that you can brave my scary Callistan fiance to get to it.” "Maybe I'm being professional! If I start looking at her like she's a beautiful woman, and it gets weird, I'm blaming you." Tag did have a tendency to develop crushes on women way out of his league, his Captain did sound like an easy target for it. He grinned when she nuzzled and took his balloon from her. That was going to be tied to his bunk later until it eventually ran out of air, and then probably saved for awhile. "I can face certain death for a Kirby cake. I have so many stories to tell you. Most of them involving how miserable a month stuck there without access to everyone else is. Oh my god." '71 The past few days were some of the worst in Tag's life. He knew it was worse obviously for the people who were plucked out of their lives and threatened with death, but for the people who stood to the side and waited … it was agony. It was like their group in particular was targeted, and Tag felt the hopelessness stretch out until he just sat in his bunk. He couldn't eat. He hadn't slept. All he could do was wait. His constant energy was muted into the first silence that ever stretched out for the young pilot. Nothing to say. And then the news came down and he was off. The screech of his shoes on the show of the med lab was loud, because he was running and then told to slow down immediately. He almost stumbled a little, awkward and clumsy in his sudden desperation. But then he got there and he wasn't sure what to do. They were all being checked on. He saw others standing there, waiting. All with reasons to worry. They were all connected during this time in their concern and fear, and there was something comforting in that. As long as he kept away from the scary ones. He knew he'd end up saying something stupid and ruining it. There was no doubt he hovered by one in particular. He peeked inside. He camped out in the chairs right behind the room. He slept on the uncomfortable chairs and he ate bad food and for some reason he just let everyone else walk in before him. Maybe he felt like they deserved it more, or that he had nothing to offer, no ability to promise her revenge. He wasn't Liam or Castor, he wouldn't hunt the bastards down because he didn't have those skills. Finally when he was given the go ahead, he stepped inside. He had a chocolate bar, like the first time they talked, and Tag was trying like hell to keep from being a mess. Kirby got to be the mess. "Hi there, beautiful," was what he chose to say, and he smiled at her. She would have been fine were it not for the endearment. The chocolate bar. Well, everything really. “I-” she croaked out, then quickly glanced away, dashing hot tears out of her eyes. Angry at her sense of helpless, at herself for being weak. “I thought that you were terrified of Castor,” she added weakly. "What? No? I'm so much tougher than him, I'm like stop taking up my space Castor." Kirby raised a skeptical eyebrow - she would have paid to see that. Tag sat at the end of her bed, dark eyes with dark circles under them, taking her in. There was nothing more he wanted in that instant than to hug her and kiss away the shadows, but that wasn't them. "Him and Hector together are legit the scariest thing I've ever seen." They were tall and scowly and he usually walked the opposite way when they were coming at him. This was just an exception. Where he felt intimidated, the girl cowering in this room felt safe. They were deadly, but it was on their behalf - hers, Noa’s, Sawyer’s, Pendleton’s, Zane’s. "Kirb …." He moved closer to her on the bed, but he was careful. He wasn't sure how safe she felt. "I was so scared." Maybe admitting to it, swallowing a lump down, would make him vulnerable enough she could do the same. Or maybe he was just pathetic and weak but he didn't care. He had felt scared. Kirby’s lips twitched into a tight, humourless smile. He didn’t know the meaning of scared - and nor would she want him to, she amended to herself, her rational side catching up to her. As selfishly comforted as she had been having Noa and Penny there with her, she knew that this was an indulgence and her guilt had stabbed through her. Of course she had wished them elsewhere. “You’re still too far away,” she mumbled, pushing back the blankets and gesturing him closer. Tag nodded and moved up on the bed, settling down next to her. He put his arm up and around her, a natural pose for them. He didn't need more of an invitation than that, but he wanted to respect her boundaries and wait for the invite. "They're going to get what's coming to them. People like that don't get away with things, not when it comes to the RAC." It might take a little while, but he was confident that it would happen. Justice would be served. For a fervid moment, he hoped it was bloody justice. He didn't look at her, he just gave her what warmth and comfort he could. "I love you, Kirb." He thought about how he never said those words to her. But even now he knew it could be taken a few ways, and he wasn't going to push one over the other. He meant them though, from the core of his being, in all possible ways. "You tell me what you need and I'll be your willing slave." “I love you too,” she echoed. (It was an ‘I love you,’ and sincerely meant, but not the kind he was looking for.) “Now lie down and get some sleep, idiot. I’ll protect you from Castor.” Tag had stopped making searching statements around her a long while ago. He decided being in Kirby's life trumped all other options, and that meant being her friend was not a back up, it was the primary goal. "He's not going to come in again, is he?" He lifted his head to peek outside, and then flopped back down next to her. "But hey, I'm glad he and Hector are hovering. No one would mess with them." Not in a hundred years. Castor might pop his head in, but Kirby thought that best not to mention to her friend, whose nerves where her captain was concerned were already tightly wound to begin with. She tugged the duvet up over them both and settled against him with a final command to “rest.” Minutes later she was asleep, her arm slung over his middle and her slumber blissfully free of dreams for once. |