Chapter Text
Ashelin lingered over her report, the light of her workstation the only thing left glowing in the office. The metallic quiet of the dark Headquarters, instead of sharpening her focus like usual, now made her feel isolated and subdued. She typed a single line and then stopped. Her fingers played idly over the keys while searching for words.
The quiet closed in on her like static, and her mind wandered.
It went places she rarely visited, moved through memories and scenes she barely acknowledged out of the mixture of embarrassment and pure thrill they made her feel; hazy neon lights, roaming hands, heady, overwhelming closeness.
She felt her face flush somewhat, and she started typing rapidly again.
Maybe we just need to get to know each other, he’d said.
It wasn’t the words; in a different time and place and with different people, they would have held almost nothing besides a dull, chaste interest in becoming more familiar. Friendly almost.
It was how he said them that made her equal parts furious and riveted. Like he was laughing at her, at the irony of words that had history only for her and how he made her life a living hell for six weeks. Like something so simple could be some kind of clean slate, like getting to know each other better would make that all go away. Like they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other a week ago at that club, alone in a sea of nameless people who melded together around them in time with the beat, lost in the smokey murk.
She finished the report, transferred it to a disk, and stood up from her desk. After dropping it off in Intelligence, Ashelin used the elevator to go up to the third floor to leave this section of Headquarters. As it just so happened, her path took her by First Legion. She paused, peering in through glass doors etched by laser to read “FIRST LEGION, BOLDLY NOT WRATHFULLY” with the Baron’s Seal bisected by a stylized ‘1.’
Over the top of the cubicle walls, she could see yellow light still pouring out from the Captain’s office on the far end of the office. First Legion’s previous Marshal had met an unfortunate end when his convoy was attacked by Metal Heads three days ago. In the absence of more experienced leadership – few ranking veterans of the Metal Head Nest raid still survived – and because the Legion’s Lieutenant had won himself the Baron’s favor, Torn suddenly found himself becoming the youngest Marshal in Krimzon Guard history.
He had been in to work early and left late every day since, doing the work of two people. Poster boy Torn might have been, but Praxis had a penchant for mistreating his favorites to flush out the weak. Regulation did not allow more than one Lieutenant in place per Legion, and Torn wasn’t a Captain yet. Let the Baron talk all he liked about rewarding those who worked hard for him. Torn was going to be on his own for a while, and his fate walked a tightrope between success and failure.
Two paths diverged in a wood before Ashelin, and, oh, to hell with it. She took the road less traveled. The door swung away from her on well-oiled hinges, barely making a whisper over the tiles. Somewhere above her floating in the nebulous dark, she watched herself cross the office.
Her even steps warranted a lot less reaction from him than she expected. He barely looked up when she came to a stop in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed.
“The fuck are you doin’?” he muttered absently, eyes only for the logistics holo screen in front of him. His mask sat on the corner of the desk, so Ashelin was able to just observe him for a moment. The first time they’d been allowed to see him was the day they all graduated from Officer Candidate Training. The day he had said he finally felt like he was able to look them in the eye and know they wouldn’t be getting themselves or his men killed. The four years since then had only tempered the steel in his eyes, and despite the dark circles under them, she knew this was where his ambition thrived, here where he had all the power.
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your promotion,” she said. He looked at her again, a little longer this time. She couldn’t read his expression.
“Thank you. Now, what the fuck are you doin’ here?”
“I saw your light still on,” she replied, shrugging lightly with one shoulder. “And, Lieutenant to Lieutenant –” She watched his eyes narrow just ever so slightly. “—you’re going to run yourself into the ground if you keep working like this.”
For a moment, she thought he might throw her out. She could tell her familiarity was jarring to him, caught as he was between being the same rank as her on paper but holding the authority of an officer many years ahead of him. Instead of leaping to his feet and yelling at her, though, he just smirked.
“You’ve been keeping tabs on me, I see,” he said, turning back to the screen.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t play coy. It’s not like you,” he said casually. Too casually. “I mean…” He scrubbed at his face, lingering to massage his eyes with his fingertips a moment. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he repeated, stoic again apart from some added annoyance in his tone. “Go home. It’s late.”
Ashelin felt herself relax, and a great rush of …well, something. Something that made her almost victorious. She lingered a moment before pushing herself away from the door.
“Good night, Lieutenant.”
All she received in return was a noncommittal grunt, but she could feel his eyes on her as she left.