The watery sun was pleasant but not enough to warm the snowy streets. The cheerfulness of the townies was enough to counter the cold, them greeting each other with a word or flick of the hand. The storefront windows were decorated with garlands and glazed fruits, the reasons long-lost but always a welcomed change from the everyday.

Kalon paused, halting the pram she pushed. She twisted and gave Strauss a sympathetic smile as she waddled hastily to catch up, an arm supporting her large stomach.

“Do you want a rest?”

“I'll rest at the shop. I cannot believe I forgot to buy the roast! Some housewife I'm turning out to be.”

“You, my friend, are being far too hard on yourself.” Kalon leaned over the pram. “Auntie Strauss is much too tough on herself, isn't she, Mal?”

The baby–heavily bundled in shades of blue–stared silently with eyes still an indiscernible dark shade of blue-gray typical of newborns. He was still squished in features, but the way he stared–especially when he screamed–reminded Kalon of a displeased kitten.

“What is of great annoyance, is that you were not anywhere near as big and bumbling at six months.” Strauss stopped, catching her breath. “I do believe you still wore stilettos.”

“I did not! I stopped stilettos by month four, at least.”

“Heeled boots then. The chucky kind.”

“Well… I had no flat shoes at the time, if that is of any consolation.”

“No. No, it is not.” Strauss waved her dismissively. “Come on, can’t stop the momentum.”

Kalon kept her pace slow, glancing from Strauss to the pram to check on her companions. She squinted into the weak sun a moment.

“What time do you think it is?”

“Need to get back?”

“Not immediately, surely, but eventually. Gramps’s back is bothering him again. I’m holding the place down, and we’ve been so busy recently.”

“I bet it has to do with the rumors.” Strauss laughed at Kalon’s perplexed face. “Honestly. You curate history and yet you never know what people are whispering about.” She smiled into the pram. “Though, you’ve the best excuse for the last couple of weeks. Ah, the butcher! Oh, the crowd….”

“We’ll wait out here. It’ll be faster for you. And easier should I need to rush to work.”

She watched as Strauss tried to use her state to get near the counter, failing as elderly women blocked her path. She braced against a gust of wind and re-tucked one of the blankets around the baby. She tapped the window, gained her friend’s attention, and pointed down the road before giving her a small, departing wave.

The probability of some rumor being the driving force behind the recent crowds at the library was likely. Grams had started taking meals in her office.

“See? Told you the Gousa granddaughter was pregnant.”

Kalon halted, gripping tight to the pram. She inched backwards into the nearest doorway. There was a short pause, then–.

“And Pistachio didn’t shove her down the stairs? That’s the bigger shock of it.”

Two old women–Grams and Gramps’s generation–were slowly shuffling down the sidewalk towards her and Mal. They were wrapped in woolen coats and shawls, carrying cloth shopping bags on their arms.

“So true! It isn’t so unusual given how they let her run wild. Do you remember what she used to look like? Bits of metal shoved through her eyebrow. Dressing like a little tramp.”

Kalon’s shaking hand went to where she had worn her eyebrow bar. It had been more than a year since she put it in, growing bored with the ritual around the time she first met Innit. Khoa showing up bangaged as he had then may have influenced her a bit too. She had caught her bar on her own clothing occasionally.

“It’s no wonder they had no contact until they needed to. Wouldn’t be shocking if she was sent to them to straighten out and her orphanage was just coincidental.”

“Not that it worked. Poor, little infant. Imagine growing up knowing your mother was no better than a common–.”

The two elders caught sight of her and the pram nestled in the doorway. They regarded her, gave a nod at the pram, and shuffled on. Their voices now lowered in a hiss.

“Think she overheard?”

She bit her lip to stop it shaking. She put on a smile for Mal–him staring soundlessly up at her still–and wiped her eyes.

“Sorry, Mal. Mummy needs….”

She crouched down, stifling a sudden sob that burst from her mouth. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in long, practiced breaths until the overwhelming, suffocating weight in her chest subsided. She climbed back to her feet with a final huff, wiped her eyes, and gave Mal a more genuine smile.

“Sorry. Grams said I’d have moments. I suppose that was one.” She peered into the sun. “I should learn to wear a watch.” She began walking. “I never was one for bracelets. Isn’t that odd? Necklaces and earrings, but not bracelets and rings.” She laughed at Mal’s disgruntled expression. “I promise you that I’m not mad. Crazy, as your father would say.”

They were near the library when Kalon remembered she needed another packet of diapers. She ducked her head in an attempt to conceal herself from the small crowd waiting outside the library door, rushing by to go to the corner shop.

She whispered apologizes to Mal as she repeatedly slammed the pram in the sides of the narrow door in her hurry to get out of the cold. She smiled warmly at the proprietor, receiving a curt nod and a side-eye. She hissed at the time on the clock, and brisky headed for the baby section.

“Gramps is going to be cross at me for opening late.” She tucked a pack of diapers beneath the pram. “We probably shouldn’t have gone with Auntie Strauss this morning. C’est la vie.” Her head swiveled. “Was there anything else? Pens? Wipes?”

She tossed wipes with the diapers. She glanced at the clock, gulped, and headed for the counter. Anything else would need to wait.

She jerked the pram to a stop to avoid smacking into the young man waiting at the counter. The suddeness jostled Mal from his soundless, staring stupor. His face smushed up, reddened, and his mouth opened–huffing in preparation to wail.

“No, no, no, shush.” Kalon leaned into the pram, patting his cheek lightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was too fast. Shh.”

“Library girl?”

Her green eyes widened. She straightened, feeling a cold jolt down her spine as she faced a pair of odd eyes–hazel and brown. Her grip on the pram tightened when those eyes momentarily darted to Mal.

She grimaced. “Honestly, Khoa, how do you not remember my name?”

“It’s Kalon.” He shrugged. “Library girl is how I remember you. Just came out.”

Her grip loosened. He was not trying to pick a fight. There was a tiredness to him, but one that lacked irritability. Other than the small look that showed he saw Mal existed, he appeared disinterested and was not acting any differently towards her.

“Have you come to use the library? Is Bex cooking up something? I do believe it has been at least a year–.”

“I’m alone.”

There was no further explanation, and no confirmation if he was there to visit the library or just passing through town. She rocked on her toes, chewing at her questions, stealing looks at the clock and at Khoa’s face. He was thinner. Or her memories of him were not accurate.

“So sorry for the wait, sir.” The proprietor returned from the backroom with a small, glass jar. “Smelling salts are not a commonly recommended item. It took me some effort to locate them.”

Kalon eyed the jar, cocking her head. “Are they for your first aid kit?”

Khoa smirked at her as he silently handed over payment. He backed away, ignoring the proprietor’s thanks, and headed for the door.

“Good morning.” She placed the diapers and wipes on the counter. “Have you been very busy today?”

She tightened her grip on the pram once again at the coldness the proprietor stared at her with. She fished out currency to busy her hands, cooing to Mal who was back to his mild disgruntled expression but still with extra shine in his eyes.

“I was three years ahead of your father in school.”

“My–? Oh, is that so?” She forced a smile. “Did you know him well?”

“Enough to know how ashamed he’d be.” The proprietor snatched the currency away. “Have a good day, Miss Gousa.”

Her chest tightened as the overwhelmed feeling surged. She backed away from the counter, and forced the pram through the door, jostling and upsetting Mal. She tried apologizing, choking on her sobs. She pushed the pram quicker until she was jogging with it, tears streaming down her face and Mal screaming from inside.

Khoa leapt aside on the sidewalk. “What the–? Kalon? Where are–?”

She blubbered something at him–she could not say what or if it made any sense–as she ran by him. She cleared the crowd outside the library easily with the pram and shrieking baby. She pulled him from it once safely inside the library, abandoning the pram in the entryway.

She carried Mal down into the dwelling beneath the library. Her tears had stopped, now just stains on her face. She shushed the baby repeatedly as they took a chair in the living room. She hugged him to her chest, catching her breath.

“What is all this crying?” Grams popped out of her workspace. “Did you leave the patrons alone?”

“I… I didn’t….” She squeezed her eyes shut to stop new tears. “I’m s-sorry.”

Grams heaved a sigh, giving her a thump on the back. “Get a hold of yourself, girl. I know it is not fun in the least, but you still have work to do.” She gave her another pat. “Feed the baby, and then go open. You’ll both have quieted then.”

“O-okay. Th-thanks–.”

“And do not come back until at least lunch. I’ve too much work, and heaven knows Vern will try leaving that bed if you keep disturbing him. Understood, my dear?” She pointed a gnarled finger at Mal. “Behave for your mother.”

She took a breath, and gathered her cover to nurse Mal. She whispered and cooed at him while he ate, lulling him to calm and then to sleep. She placed him in his bassinet outside her door–her room too cramped to fit it. She hung a walkie-talkie with the ‘talk’ taped down over the bassinet, clipped the pair to her hip, and headed up.

The visitors filed in, murmuring annoyance at the wait. She waved them through with her bat, just to remind them of the consequences should they break the rules. She barely glanced at any of them, yawning and staring blankly with her bat-less hand on the walkie-talkie.

“You left these.”

Kalon started, blinking the tiredness from her eyes. It took a moment to piece together that Khoa was standing there holding the package of diapers and wipes.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” She laughed shakily. “I was in such a rush to open–.”

“Sure, because forgettin’ to grab the only thing on the counter is believable.” He deposited the items into her arms. “Goin’ off the blues… it’s a boy?”

She nodded, swallowing. “Yes. Malvern. Mal for short.”

“Is he Innit’s?”

The paper packaging audibly crinkled as she tightened her hold on the diapers. Her eyes darted to a pair entering, her ears catching hisses of whispers. The tightness returned to her chest, and her eyes prickled.

“Innit's? Of course not!” She forced a joyless laugh. “Haven't you heard? I'm the town whore. He could be anyone's.”

Khoa’s face was blank. “You ain't a whore.” He gave her a mirthless smirk. “You had, what, three guys?”

“...Two.”

Khoa laughed. “Yeah, I'm the whore of us standin’ here.” His eyes sharpened. “You can’t let them eat at you.”

Kalon stepped back, gulping at the lump in her throat. The surge of gratitude rose in her chest. She sniffed heartily, laughing at Khoa’s mildly disgusted expression.

“Apologies.” She clumsily wiped her eyes. “Why are you being so kind? It’s… well, unusual.”

“My mom let it eat at her.” He rubbed a shiny, reddish scar marring his palm. “I paid for it.”

She quickly studied the paper packaging of the diapers as his eyes went her way. She searched for what to say, but fragments of what that scar could mean–burned, reaction to a corrosive cut, disease–flit through her mind instead.

“Does Innit know?”

She huffed irritability. “I've already said that Mal isn't–.”

“I don't know why you're protectin’ him.” Khoa crossed his arms. “Or, maybe what I should ask is did you know the last time you saw him?”

She kept her eyes on her items, picking at the corner of the seal keeping the wipes enclosed with a turquoise nail. Her posture relaxed as Khoa leaned away.

“I give you credit for not trappin’ him.” He scratched at his jet hair. “He could’ve ended up walkin’ out on you both if you did. And then he’d just be ordinary scum instead of in the dark about all this.”

Her heart sank. “You… you believe he would’ve left me regardless?”

“Dice did a number on him. Can’t underestimate that level of survivor guilt.”

“You don’t call him Arios…? You didn’t know him, did you?”

“Briefly.” Khoa shrugged. “I ain't got much to say on him except that his glarin’ issue was he overestimated his friends. He should’ve figured in that they’d go nuts if he screwed off and died.”

The abrupt, deafening cry that blasted from her hip–Khoa and she both startling–dashed any follow up questions she dared ask. She frantically tried lowering the volume and juggling her items as she dashed for the door leading to the subterranean dwelling.

She released her arms, dropping everything onto a chair, and scooped Mal up.

“Ssh, Mal, I've got you. Are you wet? Hungry?”

Grams approached with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. “Change him and take him up with you. You can’t let the visitors alone long.”

“Surely they won’t miss me for twenty minutes or so? They’re so absorbed–.”

“The chances of vandals are high.” She peered grimly as she raised the cup. “The most prevalent rumor is that the Foxcroft granddaughter is pregnant. The officials in Paris Colony are being oddly silent on it; more likelihood of it being true but it being too early for the announcement.”

She grabbed the shawl draped over the chair she typically fed Mal in, and hurried back to the stairs. She nearly collided with Khoa at the top.

He held up the wipes, irritability. “You dropped this.”

She snatched them and tossed them down the stairs. She brushed by Khoa, clutching Mal to her chest–him still whimpering over the lack of food.

“Is there a topic of interest to you, Khoa? I won’t charge a fee. As thanks for bringing me my belongings.”

“The info here… is better than the stuff on the ‘net?”

“Of course. That is often scrubbed, definitions changed, whole events or topics deleted.” She gestured to the walls upon walls of shelves. “This is tangible and forever. Well, so long as I stop people from stealing and destroying books.”

“Does this gratitude carry to the next time I’m in town?”

“No.”

“Fine.” He glanced away. “Whatever you’ve got on that immunodeficiency virus. Or any news about cures if I got to be specific. More recent the better.”

Kalon looked him over, slowly tightening her hold on Mal. Her lack of subtly was noted by way of Khoa bristling; his expression turning cagey.

“Does Innit…?”

“Know?” Khoa clicked his tongue. “Of course he knows.”

“No, no, does he… have it?” Her lip shook. “Is Mal sick? Babies do poorly with such things.”

Khoa glared. “Oh, so now he’s Innit’s?” He rolled his eyes. “You think Innit would do that? That he’d say nothing after sleepin’ with you? Or, hell, before? Wouldn't you've realized something ain't right already?”

“Khoa, please!” Her eyes prickled. “I don’t care if my asking is irrational, I’m asking!”

“No, he ain’t got it.” He grimaced. “I was the only one lucky enough.” He folded his arms. “Is that enough background info to get me these books?”

She reddened. “Yes, of course.” She hesitated. “How long–?”

“Seriously?”

She smiled sheepishly and shuffled off. She stroked Mal's fuzzy head, sucking in her relieved sobs. She draped her cover over herself and Mal so that she could feed him on the go, and set about to find Khoa his request as well as tend to the others.

---

Gramps was still down with back spasms the following morning. The crowd was as thick as before. Kalon opted to wear Mal in a sling rather than put him in his bed. The frenzy over this bit of gossip was palpable, and she would not risk vandals using her disappearing to tend to Mal to commit their crimes.

She forced a welcoming smile for the umpteenth time as the door was pushed open, allowing it to drop when she spotted Khoa. She gave him a puzzled frown.

“Back again?”

“I need a dictionary for all that you gave me yesterday.” He held out a fold of paper currency. “Whatever this’ll cover. It ain’t much, I know.”

“I’ll stretch it as need be if you hold Mal a moment or two when I need him off me.”

“I ain’t holdin’ your baby.”

“Please, Khoa, I’m not comfortable climbing the ladders with him yet. It’s not as if I can pass him to anyone else.”

He gave a disgruntled groan. “Fine.”

“Perfect!” She removed Mal from her baby-sling. “Just, hold him so.”

“Wait, now?”

“Support his head” She clamped Khoa’s arms around Mal. “That’ll do. Back in a jiff.” She skittered to a stop. “Just… don’t move. You’ll act as doorman too.”

“Kalon, wait a–.”

“I know exactly where the right reference is. No time at all. I swear.”

She was confident she heard Khoa make a curse at her as she hurried away. She hoped it was something Mal would not be able to remember, or else risk him repeating it at a much later date.

She was distracted from completing Khoa’s request several times on her way by others wanting an additional tome. She sped-walked back towards the entrance with a medical dictionary for the everyman firmly against her chest. Her heart blipped as Mal screeched; it reverberated off the ceiling.

She snickered. “Poor, Khoa.” She quickened her pace at another screech, her heart again jumping. “Poor, Mal.” She broke into a run as an angry buzz joined the next shriek. “Mal!”

A tall man was bearing down on Khoa with great agitation. He swiveled side to side, wanting to go around, but Khoa’s raised hackles caused pause. There were papers clearly sticking from his pockets and he carried three books under his arm.

Four more men hovered on the edges, standing on their toes, waiting for a chance to run through the doors.

“--big shove, and that’ll be it.” The tall man inched nearer. “You won’t be able to stop all of us and hold onto that screaming thing.”

Kalon pulled her retractable baton off her belt, still running full speed. She flicked it to extend, and whacked the tall man across the back. Across the backs of his knees. Again across his back now that he was down. Again. Again. Her heart was racing; Mal was still screaming.

“Kalon!” Khoa caught her wrist as she swung again. “Take your kid!”

She hastily pulled Mal into her, dropping her baton to shush and cradle him. He was quick to quiet–missing the familiarity of Kalon–which settled her nerves too. She went to apologize to Khoa, or joke about Mal’s tantrum, or further reprimand the vandal; whichever did not get the chance to form and the blood drained from her face.

The would-be vandal was attempting to stand, gasping in pain as he clutched his leg. Blood gushed from his bent nose, him spitting whenever too much fell into his mouth.

The state of him was not what caused Kalon dread. It was how Khoa stood bearing down over him with his knuckles white on the baton. There was a flush to his face and a burning glint in his sharp eyes.

Kalon laughed shakily, her hold on Mal tight. “Thanks, Khoa. I suspect the anti-theft message–.”

She jumped as Khoa cracked the baton across the vandal’s neck. Her green eyes searched the still body, heart thumping and breathing shallow. 

Khoa’s expression was cold. His eyes darted to the other would-be vandals hovering in the corners. He rolled the one at his feet over with his foot, eliciting a sharp cry. His grip tightened on the baton. He reeled back his arm.

“Khoa!” She exhaled as he lowered his arm. “I’ll handle it from here. Your requested–.”

He dropped the baton, backed away, and rushed out the entrance.

She retrieved her baton, casting a steely look to those hovering. “Your mistake was thinking my baton would not hurt as much as my bat.” She adjusted Mal. “Set the books on that table, and be gone when I return.” She sneered at the man at her feet. “Take him too, or you’ll all face my grandfather’s pistol.”

She hurried outside, stopping just as quickly to stop from colliding into Khoa.

“I expected you to be long gone.” She shuffled closer. “I dropped the book you–.”

“It ain’t important.”

“Are you okay?”

Khoa nodded, keeping his eyes down. “Innit thinks he’s got all this darkness, thinks he’d go down any road to do what he needs…." He touched the tear-like scar from where he once had his lip piercing. "He’s got no clue that he followed Dice out into the light long ago without realizin’ it.” He took a breath. “You want me to tell Innit about the baby?”

She stroked Mal’s fuzzy head, running her finger down to his button nose. Her eyes prickled as a lump formed in her throat. She gave a small shake of her head.

“Mal deserves much more than what I can give on my own… but….”

“Innit won’t  go back into the dark. I won’t let him.” He rubbed Mal’s hand with his thumb. “I might never see you again.” He stared at Kalon. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“You should check in just to be sure.”

Khoa snorted, smiled weakly, and disappeared down the street.

----------

Finally! This took forever. The end is in sight at last. Some notes: the paper packaging for the diapers is because the ones I use are packaged in paper. I figured eventually, all diapers would follow the European model and do paper packaging. (And this does take place in Europe anyway.)

Khoa was always a single mom kid. Back in 2017ish when I was filling in the gaps with Innit's background via Khoa, I had to figure out the dynamic of the four boys. Clover, Innit, and Novie had the standard married parents that abandoned them. Khoa was he single parent. I never fully figured out if Novie was orphaned very young and abandoned by an aunt and uncle, or if he was just the youngest of his parents' children so "off loaded". He was the only one with siblings though either way, and was dumped because he was the youngest. But, yeah, when I remembered Khoa was from a single mom I was like 'oh he's going to have feelings about this'.

Kalon being emotional and a bit irrational is because hormones suck, lol. Sometimes you'd just start crying and then (in my case) you sit there like... okay, why'd I do that?

A man glanced up as the front door creaked open. He took one look at the pair of silhouettes and turned back to the stark white glow of a computer screen. “We closed thirty minutes ago,” he called out with annoyance weighing heavily on his voice.

“We need a flight off-planet.”

The man straightened up in his chair, peering between his screen and the divider used to separate his side of the desk from the public-facing side. His ruddy complexion darkened the further it moved from the glow of the screen.

The first of the two men stepped through the shallow lobby and approached the desk. The muted lights above his head cast his sepia skin with a dull glow, and his dark brown eyes seemed even darker in the shadow under his brow. The dark leather jacket he wore seemed to soak in the shadows of the room.

Behind him, a wiry man with mostly tan hair brushed aside the patch of white from his forehead. A black headband held back the rest, and a thick knitted scarf wrapped around his neck above a bleach-stained gray shirt.

“Off-planet?” The man repeated as the dark-eyed visitor casually rested a hand on his desk.

“We know you were the pilot who shuttled New Arden’s officers across a couple planets not too long ago,” Elliot casually slipped his other hand into his jacket pocket.

The pilot narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Who told you that?”

“Name another pilot in the tri-city region who still has aircraft able to go into space.”

The pilot shifted uncomfortably in his brown uniform. “Sir, I hope you can understand I can neither confirm nor deny that I, a humble transport pilot of Harbour Shipping, would shuttle New Arden’s officers—”

“Humble or not,” Elliot tried.

“Listen–it was a job–I was hired out! I swear–”

“We’re not here to get anyone in trouble.” Elliot eased with a quick wave of his hand. “We just need to go back to one of your stops.”

The pilot blinked. “Oh.”

Elliot’s brows raised in anticipation. “So?”

“All right, all right,” it was the pilot’s turn to wave his hands. “Which stop were you looking at?”

“The Tallelands.” Ace stepped up to the desk.

“Tallelands,” the pilot’s fingers pattered across his keyboard. “On the planet Tal E. Yeah, I was there a few weeks ago. Country of Northaven, looks like.”

“That’s it.” Ace’s eyes lit with hope.

The pilot glanced up from the computer. In the beam of light above their heads, the thin man’s streak of white hair seemed to glow. “Say,” he asked curiously, “you’re not one of those Aravast folks, are you?”

“No, I’m a Daethen from Northaven, hence why I need to get back there.” Ace said matter-of-factly.

“Oh!” He exclaimed as he leaned back in his chair. “Wow, I was wondering what they were doing picking up a bunch of people like that. They didn’t tell me much, just where to go and when to do it.” His ruddy face paled. “I mean... I didn’t say anything about picking up anybody. Nothing at all.”

“I got it,” Ace shrugged. “They were trying to see if I could help them, but it didn’t work out.” 

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not.” Ace smirked.

“So, when can you fly?” Elliot asked.

“When can you pay me?”

Elliot reached into his back pocket and handed him a small card. 

“A cash card? I didn’t think cards still existed without a name attached to them.” 

“It was a birthday present. My grandmother was old-school.”

The pilot swiped it through a machine and nodded. “Nice birthday present. Now, I’ll need to scan your chip.”

Ace promptly backed away when the man stood and reached for his neck.

“What, you think you can just fly off without being scanned? It’s standard protocol to track all off-planet passengers!”

Elliot’s annoyance turned to silent dread as the pilot waved the scanner in front of them.

“Oh, it’s not that,” Ace recovered and offered reassuringly, “it’s just that I don’t have a chip.”

“Don’t have a chip?” The pilot blinked.

Ace held out his hand for the scanner and, with his back safely pointed away from the pilot, he pressed the scanner onto his own neck. It buzzed out an error. “See? I’m from The Tallelands; we don’t have chips there.” He handed the scanner back.

“Oh!” The pilot gave a short laugh and stepped back behind the computer with the scanner. “My apologies, sir. I guess you’re going off-planet as a chip read error, then.” He then sat back in his chair. “All right, I can probably get the ship up and running in about an hour.”

“Wait, what about him?” Ace pointed to Elliot.

“What about him? This ain’t enough for two tickets.” He lifted Elliot’s card.

Ace and Elliot glanced at each other. Ace had donned a look of worry, and Elliot frowned and pulled him away from the desk. 

“Listen, I don’t need a ticket,” he spoke softly.

“Don’t need a ticket? You’re supposed to come with me!” Ace hissed back.

“You heard him; I don’t have enough money for us both!” He winced and added under his breath, “Besides, I can’t risk being scanned. If they follow me, they’ll be able to find you.”

The Daethen’s brows knitted. “But, you won’t be safe here.”

Elliot put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. “But you will be safe there.”

Ace shook his head, his eyes wide with fearful sorrow. 

The Barean gripped his shoulder tighter. “Now go on. And don’t you dare turn this into another sappy moment.”

Ace was struggling to retain composure. “Elliot.”

“Stop it!” Elliot released Ace with a half-shove. “What did I just say?” His voice cracked.

“I can’t—”

“You can. This is how it has to be.”

His words flickered a light in Ace’s eyes.

Ace rushed back to the counter. “How about this,” he looked hard at the ruddy pilot and he slipped a silver ring from his left ring finger. “You take this for payment, but we don’t scan him.”

“Ace, what in the—”

He shoved his friend back with his other hand, holding the shimmering ring between his fingers. “It’s pure white gold.”

The pilot selected the ring from Ace’s fingers and held it closer to his computer screen for light.

“You cannot give away your wedding ring!” Elliot tugged on Ace’s arm. “Are you insane?”

“If I don’t receive money, I can’t issue a ticket.” The pilot’s eyes were still glued to the ring. 

“See? So, take it back!” Elliot ordered forcefully.

“I can replace a ring,” Ace replied sternly. “I cannot replace a friend.”

Elliot’s mouth hung open, but not a single word could escape from it.

“If I can’t issue a ticket, I don’t have to scan you.” The pilot looked up.

Ace’s brows raised in anticipation. “So?”

“So, both of you just come back here and get on the shuttle.” He shook his head, pocketed the ring, and unlatched the half-door beside him. “I swear, you’d better not be on the run or something,” he muttered with a sigh.

Ace turned to Elliot with a wide grin.

Elliot, however, had not yet recovered. “Why?” He finally managed to get out.

“I told you why. Now, come on.”

He tugged Elliot through the door and followed the pilot through a series of hallways until they reached the hangar. While the pilot barked their last-minute plans to the crew, Ace and Elliot started up the portable staircase into the ship’s cockpit.

Ace bounced into one of the chairs and chuckled as it spun. He looked up to the door, turning his head as the chair slowly rotated below him.

Elliot stood silently in the doorway, almost trancelike as he ran his fingers across the curved shape.

“You can come in.”

Elliot looked up. At last, a smile tugged at his lips. “Forgive me; it’s odd to think I’m actually leaving this place.”

“It does seem a little surreal after basically convincing myself I didn’t have a chance,” Ace leaned his elbows on his knees.

Elliot puffed air through his lips as he sat in an adjacent chair. “It’s not like I’m leaving behind anything important. Just a dead-end job, a shoddy apartment, and old memories.”

“Good ones?” 

“Gershwin’s are the only good ones.”

“But you grew up here,” Ace tried, “you’ve got memories of your family before Gershwin, right?”

Elliot took in a slow, deep breath. “Those are... too buried beneath the scars.” 

“What happened?”

“You’re really going to make me get sappy again?” Elliot sat back in the chair.

“I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” Ace raised an eyebrow.

Elliot’s smirk softened. “When I was fifteen, something happened to the water, and my entire family—and most of our apartment building—got really sick. I was away at school, or I’d have been sick, too,” Elliot’s eyes turned idly out the open door. “I rushed them to the hospital, and they got them into beds and hooked up to monitors, but that’s when NAGI came in. They said due to a greater emergency, they would be unable to care for my family. So, they left them, hooked to the machines, to slowly die before my eyes.”

Ace had frozen, his hand pressed across his lips.

“To this day, I can’t stand thinking they could have been helped, but they weren’t. I can’t stand that I couldn’t do anything about it. And to this day, I can’t stand looking at those beds and machines—as you are well aware from my stupid panic attack.”

“It’s not stupid,” the white hair slid back into Ace’s face.

“And like you, I still wonder if I should have done something differently. Should I have run and grabbed a doctor, or not taken no for an answer, or not been so useless and helpless... It tore me up so bad; I lost everything, including my sanity.”

“And that’s when Gershwin found you.”

Elliot looked up. “…Good job.”

Ace offered an empathetic smile. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s all past now.” Elliot leaned back in the chair and used his legs to twist it from side to side.

“Well, I hope you can come to make new good memories in The Tallelands now.” Ace leaned over with a smug grin. “Maybe even add a few more names to your two-person friends list.”

“Oh, you still think there’s two, huh?” Elliot ribbed him.

“Oh, sorry, am I being pretentious again?”

Try as he might to hold it back, Elliot broke into a hearty laugh. He held up one hand to shield his eyes and he heavily shoved Ace with the other.

Ace yelped as his chair spun in circles, though he was laughing almost as much.

Elliot hooted an exaggerated sigh. “Have you thought about what your wife and friends are going to think of you and your newfound power?” he asked once Ace’s chair had slowed to a stop. “‘Cause you’re, like, crazy powerful now.”

“They’ll be surprised, that’s for sure. But, I don’t plan on using it much if I can help it. Although technically, there are sorcerers around.” Ace raised a hand and caused mist to rise above his fingertips as the light flowed through the veins of his arm. “I may blend right in.”

“Sorcerers?” Elliot’s brows peaked. “This I gotta see.”

Soon, the pilot joined them in the cockpit, along with two crewmembers to help with the hours of travel ahead of them. In the cover of darkness, from an aircraft hangar twenty miles outside of New Arden, a ship slipped into Barea’s atmosphere and shot into space.

--

For the first time in weeks, her eyes were not wet with tears. She had not forgotten, nor would she ever forget, the loss she had experienced, but it was becoming easier to live beyond the icy hole punched through the center of her life. 

She leaned heavily on her brother-in-law’s arm as they walked down the sandy road to her door. She had been grateful to have James and her husband’s longtime friend, Dorian, at her side as they worked their way through their grief together.

“James,” Dorian shouted suddenly, giving his free arm a tug.

James stopped walking and turned to him, but he could only follow Dorian’s line of sight when he couldn’t speak further.

Athena broke from his arm and clamped her hands against her mouth, tears of hope welling in her eyes.

Two figures were walking over the hill towards them.

----

YAY it ended happily after all!! I was not expecting the cool bro-ness of Ace and Elliot when I first started writing, but I really like it a lot; similar to Ace and Dorian, but its own unique thing. I was glad I could fit Elliot into ToAG just because I hated for this coolness to only exist in this story, ha.

Although... they will both return in the next Star Trek TNG fanfiction I have planned in my brain! 😋 

Thanks for reading!

Elliot gnashed his teeth and pulled against his captors. He writhed and wrenched against the ropes that bound him until his skin had rubbed raw. He was repeatedly held back and pushed down, and he finally flopped back to the ground with an exaggerated huff.

He looked over at Ace, emotionlessly slumped over his knees. His wrists were bound by cold, metal shackles. His hair was messy and barely held back in a ponytail from all of the times the guards gawked mockingly at the mark on the back of his neck. To top it off, he now bore a patch of white hair that fell on the right side of his face: yet another sign to prove his Aravasti genetics.

He slowly turned the silver wedding ring around on his finger. Its return had been his final request granted before his public execution.

A makeshift platform had been raised in the middle of New Arden’s city square, and a crowd had thickly gathered around it. The water of the canal formed a backdrop to the scene as the sun ducked in and out of clouds overhead. The dull roar of hundreds of discussions was quieted as a thin man with wavy hair in a navy-blue uniform stepped forward beside five officers. Ace and Elliot sat, bound, at their feet.

“Citizens of New Arden,” Cason announced with his hands raised. “Today is a day we will remember for years to come, and today is a day Echoes will not soon forget.”

The mob offered a smattering of applause and shouts in affirmation.

“Ace,” Elliot managed to shove his friend with his shoulder.

The Outlier, however, continued his trance-like wringing of his fingers.

“Today we take control of their efforts to undermine our people in their skewed desire for revenge. Today, we show Echoes everywhere what we will do to them when they break our rules.”

Cason had scarcely gestured toward Ace when the crowd instantly broke into shouts and yells of anger.

Elliot began to struggle again. “Ace—snap out of it!” He urged.

“And then what?” Ace’s narrow eyes slid toward him under the white and brown hair in his face.

The Barean scowled. “You can’t just give up!”

“What else can I do?” Ace turned, shouting over Cason’ continuing speech and the crowd’s calls in reply. “Try to pretend hundreds of people didn’t just die? Try to pretend I’m not going to join them, leaving behind everyone who’s ever cared about us and will never know what happened to us??” His wedding ring glinted in the sun.

“I know how powerless that feels, but I refuse to believe everything you did yesterday to save my life was done in vain.” He shook his head when Ace continued to ignore him. “I refuse to believe you’re going to sit back and force me to watch you die in front of me—only for me to get killed right after.”

Ace winced and turned away.

Elliot, however, scooted himself closer. “You may not want to believe me, but I know you can do it. I still trust you, Ace.”

The guard pulled him back into place as Ace hung his head. 

“I have no more tools,” he muttered. “No more power. I can do nothing.”

“When has not being able to do something ever stopped you?” The Barean urged, bending around the guard’s leg. “Besides, you still have the power. But, like that butter knife lock pick, you just have to find another way to use it.”

Ace’s eyes opened.

“And here!”

Ace was grasped by the shoulders and drug to the front of the platform. He was heavily dropped back to his knees, but instead of slumping forward, he held his back steady. His once emotionless face was beginning to sharpen with determination.

“This Echo we have called The Outlier has at last been captured.” Cason dramatically grimaced as he looked upon Ace. “Many of you may remember the havoc he dealt on our town days earlier. Since then, he has attempted to murder our very Commander Konstantin—not to mention he has cast a spell over this Barean traitor.”

Cason turned to scowl at Elliot, but he was taken aback by the man’s smug expression.

“By his death, we will send a clear sign to all Echoes,” he turned his eyes back to the crowd, “By his death, we will ensure New Arden’s life!”

A clap of thunder masked the crowd’s joyful cry and caused all eyes to turn to the sky.

“Well,” Cason attempted a smile, “I suppose we should get to the point quickly. General?”

The general, armed with a long rifle, stepped forward. He coldly pointed the barrel at the back of Ace’s neck. He paused and then used the barrel to sweep Ace’s hair aside. His eyes grew wide.

Cason’s eyes narrowed, and then he noticed the raindrops in the air.

They were not falling.

Behind him, the crowd had grown uncharacteristically quiet. They, too, had donned a variety of fearful expressions. Some had even begun to run away.

He looked down at Ace.

The Outlier’s eyes were coated in blue light. Glowing streams pulsed from the shining mark on the back of his neck, tracing through his hair, across his face, and down his neck. Despite the shackles blocking the path of his power to his fingers, he had found a way around them.

Screams urged Cason to raise his eyes and witness the water rising from the canal at their backs and swirling into the clouds above. He grit his teeth in an expression encompassing apprehension, amazement, and outrage.

“Shoot him!!” He barked, attempting to grab the gun from the stunned general’s hands. “Shoot him now!!”

But in a mighty crash of thunder, the wall of water and every raindrop burst through the air and collapsed heavily on the platform. Torrential waves crashed through the street and lapped against rooftops. The force broke through windows and busted down doors. People were swept away in the current, cleared from the scene and left gasping for air along the sidewalks.

Cason broke free from the current almost a block away, coughing to clear his throat and staggering to his feet through the receding water. He held up his arm to block the rainfall as he huffed air through his mouth. 

A glowing figure stood on the platform. The glint of the light made it difficult to decipher which was water and which was his physical body.

Behind him, protected and half-obscured by swirling mist, stood the Barean.

Cason mustered his weakened anger and grabbed his gun. He shouted and fired a shot, but water effortlessly collected in front of The Outlier and deflected it. He continued firing as he trudged through the slushy ground towards him, but every shot bent and diffused through the humid air. 

He roared when he ran out of charges, and he tried to rush at The Outlier instead. He recoiled when something was tossed to the soaked ground at his feet. He looked down to find broken metal shackles rocking back and forth in a puddle.

When he looked up, mist was slowly receding from the empty platform.

The acting commander shut his eyes.

Today was a day he would not soon forget.

----

Not gonna lie I still really like the idea of Ace having water power all the time 😁 But he doesn't exactly need it in the real story. Although his mom has a totem that creates mist, hmmm......

Also I decided everyone needs a friend like Elliot.