Chapter Text
Lappland sprawls across the bed covers, one ear twitching, head askew. She turns at the sound of movement, of sliding doors and hesitant footsteps. Even without the use of her eyes, an easy grin spreads across her face.
“Texas! I knew you’d come to visit.”
A sigh is all Lappland can hear in response. Thick bandages cover her torso, preventing her from moving too fast. She can feel them compressing her ribs, crushing, caging. Or so it seems.
But it’s Texas. Texas is here!
She attempts to rise, unsteady and uncaring.
A hand shoots out, holds her back, clutching firmly at her shoulder. The faint scent of tobacco wafts by, cutting through the clinical tang of antiseptic.
“Don’t move, idiot.” Texas sounds exasperated already. But there’s the barest hint of concern.
How funny.
Lappland’s grin broadens until she’s all sharp teeth and giddy excitement.
“Did you come here to see me, Texas? Did you want to see my injuries? They said I’m not allowed to leave for a while. I’m already bored. But you came to see me. I’m glad. I was so bored!”
Texas only hums at the stream of word vomit, seemingly content to listen. Lappland writhes atop the hard mattress. She wants to see the other woman, to witness all of her fascinating expressions.
Damn it, why can’t she see?
Oh, right.
She was cut down on that mission. Shit. Lappland growls in a moment of frustration, clawing at the bandages on her face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
There’s the sound of approaching footsteps.
“This stupid—” Lappland whines. The perpetual darkness is messing with her senses. Surely they should be sharper, not more confusing. And the voices…
Her ear twitches again. Suddenly, something warm touches her hand. It wraps around her wrist, dragging her down.
“Stop messing around. Shining said you need to rest.”
“I was resting! I even had a dream you dropped by. And here you are. But it’s hard to tell. Everything is dark. I want to make sure this is real.”
“Of course, I’m real. What kind of drugs did they give you?”
“Well, you sure sound like the real grumpy Texas.”
There’s a groan but Lappland ignores it, wriggling her arm free, intent on getting to her feet at last. But her muscles strain and her balance is off. She takes one laboured step before Texas catches her by the waist.
“I knew you’d be a terrible patient,” Texas grumbles into her ear.
Lappland can’t help it. She laughs and laughs.
Dream or not, at least for now she isn’t bored.
///
A radio buzzes in the corner. Static. An array of maps and strange devices lay scattered on the desk. Despite its barren state, the Doctor’s office is oddly comforting.
“There’s also the issue of her Infection and—”
Texas is only half listening. Her fingers clench, unclench, clench. She stares into her lap, thoughts racing.
“Texas?”
“Oh. Sorry, Doctor. I’ve been… distracted.”
“I understand. She’s your friend, after all. Are you sure you want to go? I can send someone else.”
Texas blinks, thrown by the comment.
Friend…
“No, I’ll go. I’m very sure.”
When the meeting ends, Texas makes a beeline for supplies. Her body feels heavy, drained, though she refuses to acknowledge why. She strides past the command centre, through the bustling dorms, thankful that the hallways are empty.
“Yo, Texas!”
Well. Mostly.
“Exusiai.”
“Where are you off to? Another mission? I just saw the roster change.”
The what—
Oh. Of course. Amiya sure works quickly. Texas realises now that she hasn’t seen the young commander since the incident. Writing those reports must be hell. After all, it has been a major setback…
A bloodstained jacket, bright eyes flaring, the blast of a mortar, something shielding her from the fire, the debris, her heart dropping when she realises it’s white hair burning—
“Frontline, fall back! Move!”
Hoshiguma slams her shield into the ground before them, buying them precious seconds to retreat. How did it go so wrong?
Lappland is collapsed at her feet, a mess of red and silver, unmoving. It’s so uncharacteristic, her quiet stillness, that Texas has a hard time processing the scene.
“Hurry. We’re leaving.”
Texas barely registers Saria’s calm voice and the blood stemming from her wounds. Her hands feel slick, picking up the limp form of her former…
Former…
Oh. Right. Their shifts.
Texas nods absently.
“How’s your friend? Lappland?” The halo glowing above a mop of red hair glints briefly.
There’s that word again. Texas feels her mouth go dry. “She’s not my friend.”
Exusiai tilts her head, confused. “Oh? I mean, she seemed to recognise you as soon as she arrived. Plus, she’s always visiting us so I thought…”
Texas glances away. She doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t think she wants to. She takes the easy way out: “It’s complicated.”
“Well, whatever you two are… I hope she’s okay because you looked awfully worried.”
Texas mentally groans. Damn Exusiai and her keen eye. She really doesn’t have time to process the implications.
“Look, I gotta go. Mission and all.”
“Ah… Okie dokie. Stay safe!”
Texas waves a hand, already trying to quash the guilt of dismissing Exusiai’s kindness. She doesn’t deserve it, refuses to think about it.
The remainder of her walk is unimpeded. Texas continues towards the store, caught in a spiral of vague anxieties. She chews her lip, realising it’s been awhile since her last solo trip. At Penguin Logistics, the crew are rarely seen apart…
Texas shakes her head, expelling the entire train of thought. She shouldn’t be so distracted.
She takes the bare basics from supplies, just enough food for one. The only purchase she makes is a packet of cigarettes.
A vehicle is already waiting when she arrives at the loading bay. The lights above flicker, bright fluorescents that bother her more than she understands why.
“Yo.”
An unexpected sight greets her: a blue haired transporter is leaning against the truck’s side, tapping idly into a tablet. The greeting is casual, airy, almost too familiar, as if it hasn’t been weeks since she last disappeared.
“Mostima. You’re back.” Texas keeps her tone light and her surprise hidden, but even she falters when the fallen angel turns, holding her gaze with little effort.
An easy grin spreads over Mostima’s face, and Texas thinks of other wry grins that pester her mind, other unsettling people who play games.
“Is Exusiai around?”
“Yes. You know where to find her,” Texas says. Mostima’s smile widens despite the curt answer.
“Thanks, I’ll leave this to you.”
The tablet is pressed into her hand, various Penguin Logistics jobs lighting up. The previous profile fades into her own when she enters her ID.
She realises it’s going to be a very lonely ride, something that has never bothered her before. She has always been the one to leave people behind. But this time…
“Mostima, wait! Can you tell Exusiai that I’m sorry… And I promise to be back soon.”
Mostima pauses at this. Sorrow crosses her eyes for the briefest moment, lightning blue and no longer veiled. She glances away. It’s possibly the most vulnerable Texas has ever seen her.
“Can do. Good luck out there,” is all she says before she exits.
///
The drive goes well, a bit dull, even frustrating at times, being caught in her own mind. But Texas thinks she makes good progress. A cigarette hangs from her lips as she coasts along the open road, window pulled down to air out the truck. Boss is gonna kill her for stinking it up.
The scenery doesn’t change for hours. Ruins and wreckage stretch into the horizon as far as she can see. Another great city leveled by a Catastrophe. The sky here is hazy orange, contaminated beyond repair. There is no one left to save. Only other transporters, mercenaries, and their ghosts.
Texas hums along to Sora’s CD jammed into the player, tapping the steering wheel absently. She finds it soothes her nerves. She thinks of the crew and their chaotic deliveries, the laughter and memories.
“Friends…”
Texas cuts the engine just outside an abandoned warehouse.
The special package is picked up: some sort of medicine, a clinical trial.
The subject being… Lappland.
Texas clutches the box to her chest, dropping a briefcase before the agent. His shadowy form reaches out to collect the payment. They don’t speak, silently assessing the situation. It’s merely business. Besides, she’s become quite used to the Doctor’s eccentric sources.
All seems well when Texas returns to the truck. It’s getting dark. She lights another cigarette, thinks of home, thinks of a certain hospital bed.
Smoke circles her fingertips. It’s warm, familiar.
“Can we be that again, someday?” she murmurs, exhaling deeply.
“Depends. You’re the one who ran away.”
Texas spins around, half hoping to see a mane of white hair, to spy the owner of the voice that haunts her memories. But she’s met with silence, alone by an empty warehouse.
“Shit… I’m really losing it.”
The engine startles to life as Texas begins her journey home.
///
“Did you sleep at all?!”
Exusiai is threatening to throttle her.
Finally, Texas thinks, something she deserves.
“I know, I know. I look awful,” she mutters. But the unreasonable part of her is glad to be back so soon. It was record time. Except she’s not proud, no.
“What if you had crashed?!”
“Ah. Excuse me, Texas.” A figure appears at the door. “Are you currently free? Shining has something important to discuss with you.”
Silence drifts into the loading bay, her glasses fogging from the outside heat filtering in.
“Uh, now? Sure. I’ll be right there.”
“Wait, wait, wait. I’m not done with you!” Exusiai is glowering, an odd expression that mars her normally cheery demeanour.
Texas feels bad.
“I know it was stupid. I’m sorry—”
“No. Not that.”
Exusiai shuffles forward, startling Texas when she’s abruptly pulled into a hug.
“What… What is this for?” Texas stands rigid, almost afraid of moving. Such gestures aren’t normally reserved for people like her, people who regard others from a cold distance.
It’s safer to be withdrawn. Or so she’d always been taught.
“Thanks for keeping your promise,” Exusiai murmurs. Her voice is soft and Texas hates that she thinks of white hair and silver eyes. She realises Exusiai is probably speaking through her too, words that long to be directed at another.
“Ahem.” Silence coughs, looking away. “Do you want me to wait outside?”
“Oh. No. No need. I’m coming.”
They part with a hum and a light ruffle of hair.
“Alright… Well, see ya bright and early tomorrow,” Exusiai says before darting out.
To Silence’s credit, she appears unconcerned by their odd interaction. She doesn’t ask, much to Texas’ relief, simply proceeds to lead them away.
The two operators don’t interact much outside of missions but Texas has heard of Rhine Lab’s research, the experiments and their famed personnel. She supposes they’ve set up something similar here since arriving.
“So, what does Shining want from me?”
“Actually, it’s—”
But as they round a corner, Silence immediately bumps into none other than Saria.
“Olivia,” Saria says. Her expression is unreadable, but Texas swears there’s a flash of concern.
Silence doesn’t react to her name being said. In fact, she doesn’t react to Saria at all. She picks up her pace, dismissing Saria entirely.
Texas glances between the two and for some reason it feels familiar.
“As I was saying, Shining has recently agreed to lend us a hand. Us being the old Rhine Lab medical research team. We are consulting all of the relevant experts here at Rhodes Island regarding oripathy.”
Texas falters at this information. Dread begins to build in her throat, forming a lump that refuses to dislodge.
“The package you picked up is being screened to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with.”
They enter the deepest section of a laboratory, where several familiar faces begin to emerge.
Ptilopsis nods her head in greeting. Ansel is hunched over a bench, scribbling into a clipboard. Shining is speaking quietly to Nightingale by a whirling machine.
“As you can see, we are hoping the added hands will help bring about some positive results. The tests will begin in the coming weeks.”
“Right,” Texas replies slowly. She’s scanning the room for something… someone else.
“Are you looking for operator Lappland?”
“Wha— no… no. I mean… yes.”
Silence regards the answer oddly before saying, “She has not yet been transferred here due to her injuries. She remains in recovery.”
“Right…”
Texas watches the researcher hesitate, wringing her hands for a second.
“Um. I don’t mean to overstep, but from my experience I think I can say I understand a little…” Silence doesn’t elaborate, but there’s empathy in her eyes. “I would never approve of any tests before she is ready.”
Texas simply nods. She doesn’t want to speak her thoughts aloud, doesn't want to think about the implications either. She feels the disappointment of not seeing the one person she’d been hoping to finally see pull her over the edge of exhaustion.
“Thank you for showing me everything,” she says. She means it but perhaps her tone isn’t completely reliable. She needs to breathe.
Thankfully, Silence doesn’t seem to notice.
“Of course. Ah, Shining will see you now.”
Texas thinks she could recognise that billowing cloak anywhere. Shining offers her a seat by the whirling machine, her tattered outfit appearing out of place in such a clinical setting.
“Texas,” Shining says by way of greeting. “How are you feeling today?”
There’s an odd comfort when speaking to the mysterious medic. She emanates a sense of calm despite her enigmatic bearing. Perhaps it’s her towering height, or her stoic expression, but Texas has always felt reassured by her presence, both on and off the battlefield.
“I’m, uh… I’m okay,” Texas replies. It’s honest, she thinks.
“I assume you’ve been briefed by Dr. Silence. We will be attempting to treat operator Lappland in the coming days. There is no guarantee of success… but at this point, we need to try.”
The no nonsense approach. Texas approves, though she still braces herself.
“The research team has discovered a way to destroy infected cells in tissue. However, we have no idea how this will affect the patient in terms of side effects. It is a huge risk...”
Texas only half listens to the science, head spinning. Only one thing has been vexing her this entire time:
“Wait. Why are you telling me all this? I’m not Lappland’s… I mean, we’re not…”
“This has been at her request.”
Texas freezes. “What?”
“Patient confidentiality is extremely important. We would not be revealing such information otherwise.”
“Lappland is out of her mind.” Texas feels a strange anger rise in her face. She doesn’t understand. “I don’t know why she’d want me to know.”
“That is a private matter between the two of you,” Shining says gently. “I am merely upholding my duty to a patient, and promise to a fellow operator. I’m sorry if this is a shock. If you need some time we can continue this later.”
Texas wants to groan in frustration. She’s torn, completely. But her concern is outweighing her stubbornness for now. There’s just so much to unpack.
“No… I’m fine. Please, go on.”
Their meeting stretches a further half hour, wherein Texas feels her heart drop several more times. By the end, she wants nothing more than to leave.
“Once again, I’m sorry,” Shining says. Her eyes reveal more compassion than Texas is willing to accept right now. She wants to be mad, to scream, to lash out at something. It’s all so sudden, so unfair.
Why them? Why Lappland?
The medic’s gaze flits to Nightingale and in that moment Texas realises she’s missing something. Sympathy lances through her chest. Her emotions recede, pushed to a familiar corner that’s normally reserved for Lapp—
“Thank you,” Texas says. “I appreciate… all of this.”
“Your friend is making good progress. Her ribs have been fully mended by my Arts now. But her eyes were far more damaged. We’ll continue to monitor her until further notice.”
Texas nods, rising from her chair. Her entire body aches and this time she knows it’s from more than simple fatigue.
“I’ll, uh… see you next time.”
“Yes. We will be in touch.”
///
Texas strides quickly, her pace bordering frantic, but the maze of corridors is hindering her retreat. She hates this. She should’ve asked Silence for—
“Lost?”
A mane of blonde hair obscures her vision. Texas has barely halted in time, coming very close to colliding with the voice.
Strange. She just left this scent in the lab…
Nearl stands regally tall in her heeled boots, even with the removal of her headset, shield, and armour. It’s truly a sight, the knight in her black dress, relaxed and unadorned.
“No, uh, are you?” Texas responds. The command centre is on the other side of the landship.
“I’m visiting someone here.”
The smell and similar frayed attire make sense all of a sudden.
“Shining?”
Nearl raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Yes.”
Texas clamps her mouth shut, almost embarrassed. It’s none of her concern. She clears her throat, resumes indifference.
“She’s still in the lab.”
Nearl regards her curiously, lingering on her uniform. Texas is suddenly very conscious of her dirt streaked limbs and tired eyes.
“Some of the hospital staff have been very busy recently. Dr. Silence’s project has pulled a lot of resources away, so I’ve been covering shifts with what little healing I can do,” Nearl says. She seems to contemplate continuing when Texas looks confused. “I see your friend, Lappland, when Shining isn’t available. She mentions you every day.”
Texas feels her blood grow cold. She nods mutely, barely registering the conversation. Shit. Why has her past been thrown in her face so often lately? Did she mess up somehow? Did she offend the karma gods?
When she doesn’t respond, Nearl says, “It seems it’s been awhile since you visited.”
Texas glares reflexively but holds her tongue. Three days, seven hours, and no damn minutes because she has absolutely not been counting.
Nearl seems to get the message but, like Shining in a way, appears unaffected.
“Was Liz… um, Nightingale also in the lab?”
“Yeah,” Texas answers hoarsely.
Nearl seems content with the information. “I see. Thank you. Well, good night, Texas.”
“Good night.”
Texas thinks she imagines it, but she swears as they pass, a spark of energy runs through her, easing the weight of her weariness.
///
“Do you think we should tell her about the project?”
Silence sighs, frowning at the concoction in her hand. She swirls it around the beaker’s rim, jots down some notes. In the morning she will realise they are barely legible.
“Who are you talking about?” she mutters, feigning ignorance despite the scrutiny of Ptilopsis’ gaze. It’s unwavering, just as her voice is when she answers:
“Saria.”
Almost on cue, Silence fumbles with the beaker. It topples precariously to be caught by Ansel, swift hand saving it from shattering. He’s learned quickly that accidents are most prone to happen when Lady Saria is brought up.
“Um… Dr. Silence, you’ve been working nonstop all day. Maybe you should take a break,” he says, sheepishly trailing off by the end. He hopes he isn’t overstepping. But the watery experiment dripping off his gloves needn’t have been wasted. And at this rate, they won’t be making any more progress.
Silence sighs again, resigned. She pushes her glasses up, nodding dejectedly. “Yes. You’re right. I’m stepping out for a bit. Refer to Ptilopsis until I return.”
“Of course.”
“Silence—”
“Sorry. I just need some air.”
///
A frosted glass door slides open to reveal their break room. It’s a comfortable setting, made homey by the various colourful artworks and cushions strewn about. Silence smiles fondly at Ifrit’s handiwork.
Currently, though, she is grateful to be alone.
Silence crosses to the opposite wall, finding the balcony door already ajar. She steps out before immediately realising her mistake.
She freezes at the sight of Saria.
“Olivia?” Saria murmurs. Her normally hard gaze is muted with surprise. A cigarette hangs between her lips, ready to be lit. “Quiet as always.”
“You,” Silence growls. Her brows furrow deeper at the sight of Saria’s bare arms, lean muscles rarely revealed. Right now, they appear to be covered in an unpleasant display of cuts and bruises.
“I can leave,” Saria offers, already pushing herself from the railing. Her cool demeanour irritates Silence beyond reason.
“Fine.”
Saria brushes by but before she can fully exit, Silence grabs her arm impulsively.
“Wait a minute.”
Saria pauses, expression inscrutable. She stares at the hand holding her back, jaw clenching faintly.
“What? Do I annoy you that much?” Silence says when she notices the look. Her derisive tone serves only to antagonise, barely recognisable as her own. She’s not sure why Saria hasn’t shaken her off, not sure why she puts up with her foul behaviour. Saria could easily do it. She could easily push her away… in more ways than one.
“No. Just, um… hurts,” Saria mutters. Her jaw grinds again, imperceptible to anyone who isn’t paying attention.
But Silence has always been one to fixate on details. It’s her job.
Her fist releases instantly to a sharp pang in her chest. “What happened?”
Saria hesitates, and she never hesitates.
“Well… I’ve been assisting the hospital. They’ve been terribly understaffed. It leaves little reserve for my own injuries at the end of the day.” Saria keeps her explanation concise and her facade frustratingly blank. But the implication that she has been too tired to heal herself isn't missed on Silence.
“You know where the emergency salves are in the lab,” Silence says, hoping to sound dismissive but not sure she succeeds.
Saria only shrugs. “No need. Besides, I didn't think I was welcome.”
Silence finds herself analysing the situation despite the part of her that’s bristling. “Wait, so you’ve been going on missions, getting hurt, and still working in the hospital afterwards? That's way too much. Have you been eating properly? You’re always skipping—”
Saria stares when Silence cuts off. A tense moment drifts between them, one where Silence swears her heart might beat through the walls of her chest, where Saria is looking through her so tenderly it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—
“I should go,” Saria says quietly. She glances away, shrugging on her jacket that’s still adorned with a single brown feather.
Silence stays true to her name, staring at the door long after Saria is gone.
She will spend the rest of the night thinking about a brash, hotheaded, little demon child. The one they swore they’d protect together. But she won’t cry.
And by morning she will have tried and failed to convince herself that this is all for the best.
///
“Stop moving. Just—”
If Gavial could bodily throw her patient onto the bed, she would. Alas, she’d surely be chided by Dr. Kal’stit or someone equally uptight.
But it’s simply so tempting.
“Oi, Gavial,” Lappland drawls from her perch atop the headboard. It creaks and bends, no doubt struggling to hold the weight of one very troublesome Lupo. “Can I leave yet?”
“You know, if you’d let me do my job, you’d be able to leave sooner.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” Lappland leaps off the metal frame, landing with unexpected grace on the mattress. Her tail thumps noisily in anticipation. “I’m ready! Do it!”
If Gavial thinks the erratic behaviour is disconcerting, she doesn’t voice it. Not now. Not when they’re so close.
In record time, the check up is complete. But Gavial realises she’s running out of chances – and out of choices.
She needs to hurry.
“Sorry about this,” she whispers. She slips a device from her sleeve, ready to plunge the needle into Lappland’s neck.
But it's too late.
Lappland swats her hand away with a yelp, claws sharp and teeth sharper. Her movements are wild with distress.
“What’s that?! Why’d you try to stab me, Gavial?!”
“It’s a shot to control your… urges.”
Urges to lose progress. Urges to listen to those voices.
It’s been twenty-four hours since they moved Lappland into isolation, forced to monitor her sudden deterioration. Her vision remains hazy, but it seems an inconsequential matter at this point.
“No! You’re trying to hurt me! Get out!”
“Lappland—”
“Leave! LEAVE!”
The final scream does it. Gavial backs away, exiting quickly.
“Shit,” she sighs.
Behind the door, Texas is watching. Her knuckles are as white as her pallor, trembling with all the concern she's failing to hide.
“You know, she’d listen to you.”
Books and odd stationary slam against the two-way mirror, thrown by Lappland on the other side. Texas refuses to flinch, eyes unblinking.
“I know,” she mutters sadly. “I know.”