Chapter Text
Tick Tock
It was fifteen minutes to the end of the field team's shift. Sierra was at her desk, finishing up a maintenance report for the staff she’d damaged during their last fight. Elliot had already fixed it immediately upon seeing its state, but management needed the paperwork for the budget. Some people might’ve found this part of the job mind-numbingly boring, but Sierra couldn’t help but enjoy it. They were simple, repeatable, menial tasks but she knew the work was mysterious and important, so it fulfilled her.
Buster and Eileen, the other two field agents, were talking to each other by the water cooler and had been checked out of doing any actual work for the past thirty minutes. Sierra didn’t mean to isolate herself from the rest of the group, but she knew she wasn’t a great conversationalist. She preferred to observe, which often told you a lot more about a person than words alone. She knew that Faust (who was currently trying and failing to conceal his frustration with his slacking coworkers) had a special way of typing that when asked, he claimed was faster than the standard. She knew that Lyra had built up such a high caffeine tolerance that her hands didn’t start shaking till about the 5th or 6th cup, and she knew that without fail, Ripley always had a pack of cigarettes on her. These little quirks were something that Sierra couldn’t help but notice about her coworkers, but it endeared her to them all the same. They were the first group of people she’d ever considered friends, and they had all gotten her through the dangerous situations that come with the job.
It had been a little over two weeks since their encounter with…whatever that eldritch being was. She acted as if she knew the crew, which didn’t make much sense, but was scary all the same. Still, with a well coordinated attack they sent it back to the shadows it came from. But the field team hadn’t taken the brunt of the creature’s cruelty, despite the aching bruises that lingered and the mostly healed cuts. That honor went to Damon Doom, the ultimately harmless ”terrorist” who thought that teaming up with an eldritch god disguised as a villainess was a good idea. It had been far from the field team's first encounter with the guy, both on and off the battlefield, but Sierra was increasingly worried that it might be their last. As a wanted individual, the agency kept tabs on their targets, and Damon was particularly bad at keeping a low profile- before there was barely a week that passed without at least some news of a sighting. Now it was nothing. During the fight, that creature got into his head somehow and made him see…something. Whatever it was is anyone’s guess, but it left him shaken and terrified in a way she knew wasn’t a joke. He had fled the scene before the team had a chance to apprehend him post-fight, and though she didn’t want to admit it, Sierra was glad he’d escaped. It was unprofessional, but she also figured that his days of being a public nuisance was over- the eldritch being seemed to be his patron of sorts, and without money and supplies, it seemed unlikely that he’d be able to keep executing his schemes. It was stupid, but the idea made her a little sad. Sure, he was doing illegal things, but it was always for the spectacle alone. When they fought him, there were never any worries about casualties or innocent bystanders getting hurt, which was quite refreshing from the rest of the team's field work. She supposed all good things must come to an end, but that didn’t stop the pit of worry in her stomach. She finished and placed the maintenance paper in a turn in tray before approaching Ripley, who was lounging at her desk.
“Have you heard anything about Damon?”
She took the cigarette out of her mouth and shook her head.
“Nope- didn’t know you cared for his antics this much, pretty sure this is like the fifth time you’ve asked.”
Sierra felt the rush of embarrassment go to her face, and she became grateful that her face couldn’t visibly flush.
“Oh- I didn’t realize, sorry if I’m being a bother-“
Ripley took her feet down from off her desk and laughed slightly.
“No not at all, I’ve been wondering the same thing- the guy was funny! But I promise, I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
“Thank you.”
Sierra gave her a courteous nod before going back to her desk to collect her things. She joined Eileen and Buster, who finished up their conversation and took Sierras presence as confirmation that it was quitting time. The trio walked out of the office and towards the set of elevators, making small talk along the way.
“Will we see you tomorrow night?”
Asked Eileen. Sierra furrowed her brow, confused as to what was happening tomorrow night.
“Tomorrow's Saturday- is there a mission planned?”
Buster shook his head.
“Did we not tell you? Eileen got her hands on some fancy new singing machine and we’re all gonna go try it out, have a few drinks, and hit the town!”
Sierra feigned a smile the best she could. All of that… sounded like a lot. Still, it wasn’t like she had plans, and she wanted to hang out with her friends.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware, but yes I’ll see you.”
The elevator made a little “ding” noise as they got to the bottom, with Eileen giving Sierra a little thumbs up.
“Perfect! It’s gonna be so much fun, I promise.”
Everyone swiped out of the secured doors and went their separate ways. Buster's eye sore of a van was obvious from anywhere in the parking lot, and Eileen opted to take the bus everyday, so she had quite a trek both in and out of work. Sierra walked towards her Black Impala with a slight tinge of regret from agreeing to go. She would feel bad for skipping out, but even worse if her presence made things… not fun. She knew she was a bit of a “party pooper” but maybe this time would be different. She put the key in the ignition and started the drive home, taking the route she drove to and from work every single day, focusing her mind on nothing but the road.
When she got back to her apartment, she immediately took off her heels and headed to the restroom to wipe off her makeup. She didn’t have any other plans, and it was better not to risk forgetting to take it off and having it smudge on the couch or her bedding. With a few quick swipes, the unsightly black lines appeared underneath her eyes. She moved away from the mirror soon after, not wanting to look at the markings that made her look more like an athlete or soldier than a proper lady. She hadn’t always covered them up, but it became very obnoxious to have the same conversation with strangers about there being “something on your face.” Before Bernie, her previous employer, many jobs turned her down just for “looking unprofessional”. The one that hurt the most was when she met other Goliaths. Sierra wasn’t really attuned to the customs of her race, but apparently they thought her markings were tattooed or artificial, which was an insult to the “natural beauty” of them. After that day, she had decided that it was worth the extra 5 minutes every morning to conceal them altogether.
After putting on some loungewear, Sierra opened her fridge and debated whether she would spend the next two hours cooking an actual meal, or break into her small handful of microwave dinners. She shrugged- it was a Friday and she needed to turn her brain off for a while. She grabbed the boxed meal and opened it up, placing the tray in the microwave before going over to turn on the television. Before she pressed the button, she heard a knock on the door.
Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities and she froze in place. It probably wasn’t a solicitor- security was pretty tight at the apartment. Could it be her wellness officer? The program had been over for two years, but maybe they wanted to know about her new change in occupation? Or worse- it could be someone involved in the numerous criminal activities the agency thwarted, wanting to have their revenge. Still, she walked towards the door, seeing the shadow of a pair of feet right outside, and hearing the distant muttering from who was on the other side.
“This was stupid, she’s probably not even home and even if she was why would-“
She recognized the voice immediately, opening the door cautiously.
“Damon…?”
The Aasimar certainly looked worse for wear. A light rain must’ve picked up outside, as he was completely wet from head to toe. His signature glasses were tucked into his collar, letting her see his tired and anxious eyes. He was still in pretty trussed up clothing with his hair flying in every which way. His white wings were drooping and ruined by the precipitation and he had one knapsack thrown over his shoulder.
“Oh-! Hi I um- wasn’t sure if you were home.”
Sierra furrowed her brow, more confused than upset by his presence.
“You probably shouldn’t be here- given my job and all. Also… how did you get my address?”
He looked guiltily at the fair question.
“Look I might… have happened to run into your changeling coworker- Eileen I think? On the bus and just casually asked where you might be-“
Sierra wasn’t terribly surprised. The meaning of confidentiality and security was probably lost on someone who didn’t own a proper house.
“I see. well it is good to see you doing…alright. After everything that happened I was wondering what became of you.”
He looked shocked, but perked up significantly at this news.
“Y-you did? Well uh- to be honest things have been… not great. Which is kind of why I’m here.”
At this, the microwave dinner finished heating with an obnoxious beep. Sierra looked back and thought for a moment. All logic dictated that pursuing this further would be a terrible idea, but she also couldn’t stand to hang the poor guy out to dry. She pursed her lips before opening the door wide for him to come through.
“Why don’t you come inside- just take off your shoes please.”
He looked gratefully up at her, which made her insides do some awful fluttery feeling, before coming inside and leaving his things by the doorway.
“I’m sorry to intrude on you I just- quite honestly don’t know who else to go to.”
Sierra grabbed her meal from the microwave and placed it on the table, noting how Damon was trying and failing to conceal his interest in the dish.
“Are you hungry?”
She had to ask- he was a guest after all.
“N-no I- I couldn’t at least not right now- I’m already… asking a lot from you.”
Sierra sat down on the stool she had near the kitchen island, facing the aasimar who was trying his best not to let his soggy wings drag on the floor. She spoke to him plainly, wanting to get to the bottom of why he was here sooner rather than later.
“So what is this all about?”
She could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped and tried to get out his next few words. It was weird seeing him so… anxious. Even when things were going horribly for him, he’d always had a knack for keeping up a positive facade.
“I’ve…after the fight, I lost everything. I went all in with teaming up with that… monster, thinking it would be my grandest face off yet. Safe to say that was another one of my “terrific” ideas… now that it’s all a bust, I don’t have any money, any way to travel or a place to live. Hell, I tried to get a reservation at McDonald’s… they laughed at me. A-anyway what I’m getting at is- could you let me…stay with you? J-just till I’m back on my feet I swear, I just… could really use your help right now.”
Sierra sat there emotionless for a moment. Damon shifted nervously from foot to foot, growing more and more embarrassed with every passing second of silence. Finally she inhaled and exhaled, looking more puzzled than upset, which was a huge relief to the aasimar.
“I’m not opposed to it but… isn’t there anyone better you can reach out to? I mean we’ve technically fought each other multiple times, and you’re a wanted person from the agency I work for. Hardly seems ideal for you.”
Damon sheepishly scratched the back of his neck while explaining.
“Before I turned to villainy, it had always been just me and my brother. He and I… haven’t really kept up, and even if we did he’s a pretty busy person. And uh, as embarrassing as it is to admit, you and your crew… are kind of the closest things I have to friends. Now- I know that may be shocking given my amazing feats but… it turns out villainy doesn’t leave room for much of a social life.”
Sierra understood feeling surrounded by people yet… being so very alone. Division eight had become her first and only friends too. She mulled the proposition over for a moment- if anyone higher up at work found out, they’d both be screwed… but if they kept this low profile… she really didn’t have much to lose. She did enjoy Damon’s company at the end of the day, even if this was something she’d never be prepared for.
“I don’t have an extra room- and you’d have to keep this a secret. I also like to keep things really tidy around here. Are you okay with all that?”
Damon’s eyes welled with gratitude, and Sierra couldn’t help but melt internally, seeing his desperate face turn to relief.
“Yes, please- I need this- thank you so much I… I owe you so much.”
With this, Sierra got up from her spot and pulled out a second microwave dinner, unwrapping it and putting it in while Damon gingerly retrieved his small array of things and set them to the side in the lounge. He looked back, surprised to see her already preparing food for him.
“Oh-you don’t have to I’m really fine-“
She cut him off, in her typical nonchalant tone.
“You're hungry, and as far as I care you are a guest. Is there anything else you need?”
He looked down at the small water puddle he’d left behind near the kitchen.
“Maybe a towel?”
She nodded and retrieved one from the guest bathroom, handing it to him before taking the microwave meal out.
It was weird. He was practically a stranger- an intrusion on her perfectly precise evening routine. Typically any interruption would render her slightly annoyed, but he kind of just slipped into it like he’d always been there. She took out a fork and knife for the two of them and carried her meal to the lounge, setting it on the end table before turning on the TV.
“Do you have a favorite channel or program?”
She asked absentmindedly.
Damon was already taking the first bite of his meal, clutching his stomach while downing a cut piece of chicken.
“Oh no, just go ahead and pick whatever you want.”
Sierra started channel surfing, and she caught Damon looking at her quizzically.
“Did… did you always have those marks on your face?”
She tensed up. It had completely slipped her mind, and of course the dreaded question came up again.
“Yes, I just try to cover them up when I’m out in public. I know they look a bit silly and…unprofessional.”
Damon nearly gagged on his food trying to sputter out a retort.
“No no not at all! They look really badass! I mean with you being a spy and all now it’s kind of on theme- and man you’d make one intimidating and cool villain always looking like you’re ready for action.”
She knew he meant it as a compliment, and for the second time that day his presence caused that odd heating up phenomena in her face. She smiled lightly as she found a talk show to watch.
“Thanks. I never thought about it like that.”
At least ten minutes of silence passed between them as they sat on the couch “watching TV”. Neither of them really had their minds on what they were watching, but were instead trying unsuccessfully to untangle the situation they’d found themselves in. At some point Sierra turned her attention away from the screen and to the man at her side, who was silently letting tears fall into the last bits of his chicken and mashed potatoes. Sierra became plagued with worry, unsure how to respond to such a vulnerable situation.
“Is everything alright?”
Despite the tears staining his cheeks, he smiled lightly and replied.
“Yeah… everything is alright.”