#all my three comms have their own signature mounts

[i-mybrunettelady]

okay, so. i’m grinding drizz, as one does (seriously i spend a good chunk of my gaming hours there) and it makes me consider a portion of nyra lore i don’t think i’ve talked about much before - her mounts!

mentions of animal injury below!

her only official mounts rn are her raptor trippy and her skyscale maurizia (pronounced mauriTHia thank you very much) and they’re both very much present with her during icebrood saga.

trippy is there with her for the first half of it, up until drizzlewood. she was trapped with him in bjora in darkrime delves alongside almorra’s grave because the snowstorm was so bad she had to wait it out with the grave of her order’s general - order she watched slowly thin out by the way - which is y i k e s. not being with trippy, who is like an oversized dog but with claws and lizard-y. everything else about it is. he then almost died by falling so terribly he injured his spine and she branded him so he’s half-branded now, like her!

maurizia takes over after that, because she sent him home to recover for a bit. i imagine she’s flown on zia’s back for scouting purposes across the entirety of the map. there were snipers, of course - but if they so much as grazed zia’s wings, they had the full wrath of the legendary commander to contend with. also, the sight of nyra flying down on a skyscale of all things must have chilled blood in dominion’s veins (i know it would in mine) considering that by icebrood saga, nyra’s quite a proficient skyscale rider.

(don’t ask me where she keeps a whole ass skyscale. she just does. when she lets me know i will let you know as well.)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Stick to the Shadows

AU-gust Day Twenty-Two: Futuristic AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumbelle

Rated: T

Summary: Belle, Gold, and the rest of their Shadowrunning team are caught in a sticky situation during a Run, and Belle and Gold are very relieved when it’s all over. (A Shadowrun AU.)

Note: I had a ton of trouble working out what to do for this prompt and I went through several different tries before hitting on the idea of using Shadowrun, a tabletop RPG that I play set in the distant future. It can basically be described as ‘D&D - but with added guns and computers’. There’s magic, there’s tech, there’s metaspecies (elves, orks, dwarves etc). It’s a lot of fun.

Content warning: Blood, mild violence.

Stick to the Shadows

“Rumpelstiltskin, how’s it looking up there?”

“It’d be wonderful if it wasn’t as cold as a yeti’s backside.”

Belle had to laugh at Gold’s frank statement. They always had a good time when he came out into the field with them. Normally he stayed at home, working behind the scenes.

Beside her, Jefferson, the one to ask the question, sighed. “I happen to know several yetis, Rumpel, and I can guarantee that the fur makes them a lot warmer than you give them credit for. Anyway, stay put. I’m sure that Beauty can warm you up later.”

Belle felt herself flush. Although their relationship was something of an open secret among the rest of their group of Shadowrunners, she was trying to keep the secret part of it going for as long as possible. 

Gold gave Jefferson some choice four letter words and Jefferson smiled calmly, letting him vent before speaking again.

“Grumpy, are you in position?”

“Jeff, we’re in each other’s line of sight.” Leroy waved at them from across the bar. “If you can’t see that I’m in position then I think you need glasses. Aren’t elves supposed to have keener eyesight than the rest of us?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes, but he didn’t rise to the challenge. As the only metahumans in their usual group, Jefferson and Leroy got a lot of mileage out of dwarf and elf jokes. 

“Ok, we’re ready,” he said. “And Grumpy, you know that we’re supposed to use codenames when we’re on comms.”

“Yes, Hatter.”

“Hopefully, this should be a nice, clean extraction. In, out, deliver, get paid. Let’s Run.”

Jefferson began to weave his way through the crowded bar towards their mark, striking up an easy conversation. Jefferson was their face, the charismatic con artist with a silver tongue who could talk them into or out of anywhere. Well, almost anywhere. If Jefferson’s charm failed then they fell back on Belle’s magic or Leroy’s aptitude with a hammer and pickaxe – or just his fists. As a last resort, they had Gold providing them with air support from a distance; the man had more drones at his fingertips than he knew what to do with, ranging from tiny spy cameras the size of a bee to huge monsters with mounted heavy machine guns. Between them, they made a good team and they’d been Shadowrunning together successfully for years.

The mark had bitten, leaning in closer to Jefferson, eager to hear what he had to say. Belle kept her eyes open. They were not the only ones looking to extract this man. When they’d been hired, their client had warned them that he was hot property. There was a price on his head.

Belle spotted a couple of obvious paramilitary types moving towards Jefferson, and she dropped onto the astral plane to take stock, scanning the room for magical signatures. She wasn’t the only mage in the bar, but her persons of interest had no powers themselves. Across the room, she could see Leroy taking an interest in two more goons and beginning to tail them through the throng.

“One more behind you,” Gold’s voice said in her ear. His spy drone zoomed past in front of her and began to systematically read the room. “Just those five as far as I can make out.”

Belle glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the person Gold had spotted, a burly ork in an ill-fitting suit. As he squeezed past her, Belle caught his arm, sending out a pulse of magic to probe his mind. It was only a brief touch so she didn’t get much, but she could tell that he had been hired by one of the megacorporations, that the other suspicious persons were with him, and that his intentions towards their mark were of the distinctly murderous variety.

“Jeff, we have incoming and they’re not friendly,” she hissed into her comm. “Get him out now.”

“Copy that.”

Across the bar, she saw Jefferson’s demeanour instantly change from debonair playboy to hardened Shadowrunner as he explained the situation to the mark and the two of them began to make their way back towards Belle and the exit. The goons were following them, pushing the other patrons aside in an attempt not to lose their quarry. Over on the other side of the room, there was a commotion as Leroy engaged the two he’d been tailing. The other three looked over to their colleagues but did not go to their aid.

Belle cast invisibility with a flick of her wrist, Jefferson and the mark becoming blue and ghostly in her eyes as they vanished from view for the rest of the bar. The spell was tricky, needing a constant sight line to maintain, and it was difficult in a place where there were so many other people getting in the way. Someone jostled her, breaking her concentration, and the spell shattered, leaving Jeff and the mark fully visible again, although they’d managed to put some more distance between themselves and their pursuers. They were almost at the door when there was a scream; the two goons had produced pistols and didn’t seem to have any care for collateral damage in their determination.

Belle knew that she only had a moment to act, and she dived into their path.

“BELLE NO!” Gold’s voice in her ear was frantic, but she ignored it. She’d done this before, and she had to trust that Gold knew what she was doing and could act on her instinct.

As the two men fired, Belle threw up a barrier, pouring all of her magical energy into maintaining the invisible wall between them and her – and by proxy Jefferson and their mark.

“Hatter, go!” she yelled as another couple of drones swooped past her ear. Gold had got the message, and Jefferson wasted no time in escaping with their mark. A moment later, there was an ear-splitting shriek of electricity as the taser drones found their mark, and Belle finally dropped the barrier, the bullets dropping with it. She staggered backwards; the spell had drained her, and her head was pounding. Across the bar, she saw Leroy despatch his two opponents and dive out of the nearest window. Ignoring the spots dancing in front of her eyes, Belle turned tail and ran out of the bar after Jefferson, catching up with him and the mark and meeting up with Leroy outside in the commotion.

“Now where?” The mark was looking around in desperation. Although Shadowrunners were not the most trustworthy of people, at least this group appeared to want to try and save his life rather than end it, so he’d cut his losses and was sticking with them.

“Now, we wait for our ride, which should be here any minute now.” Jefferson smiled as a screech of tires heralded the arrival of a blue SUV on the scene. “There we are, right on schedule.”

Three of the four doors shot open, much to the alarm of the gathered crowds outside the bar since the SUV appeared to be completely empty. Jefferson bundled the mark into the back and Belle jumped into the passenger seat, Leroy throwing himself into the driver’s side and only just having time to close his door before the car zoomed off again.

“Rumpel, if you hurt one molecule of Catherine’s paintwork,” he grumbled. “I’ll take the wheel now, thanks. Rumpel! I said I’ll take the wheel!”

“You sure about that?” Gold’s voice came through on the comms. “You’ve got incoming.”

Belle glanced in the rear-view to see that the three goons Leroy had not had chance to take down were following them, one in another car, the other on a motorbike.

“Yes! Will you give me control of my own damn van!”

There was an audible clunk as the SUV dropped out of remote control, losing speed for a moment before Leroy was back in control, roaring down the road and dodging in and out of other traffic.

A hail of bullets ricocheted off Catherine’s bumper and Jefferson pushed the mark down out of the line of fire. Evasive manoeuvres weren’t going to cut it; they were going to have to return fire.

“Rumpelstiltskin, take the wheel!”

As reluctant as Leroy had been to let Gold get his hands on his precious Catherine, even he had to admit that having a backseat driver was very useful in times like this.

There was another clunk and short speed drop, then the SUV was driving itself as Leroy rummaged in the driver’s footwell for something out of his extensive arsenal, proceeding to lean out of the window with a shotgun.

Belle leaned out too, but the vehicles were moving too quickly for her to get a proper hit with her magic. She looked up at the rooftops, spotting Gold in his roost, his face illuminated by the light of several holographic screens as he effortlessly drove Catherine with one hand and controlled his many drones with the other. Something caught her eye, a flicker behind Gold that shouldn’t have been there.

She dropped down onto the astral plane again, trying to focus despite the motion. Yes, there was another mage coming up behind him.

“Gold, behind you!” she squealed. He turned, but the mage was invisible to him and his attack drones were all focussed on the pursuit. Belle pushed back onto the physical plane, dived back into the SUV and then out of the sunroof, much to Leroy’s alarm.

“Get down! You’re a sitting duck!”

“So’s Gold, and I need a better sight line on astral! Cover me!”

Leroy griped but acquiesced, and Belle went astral again, throwing a spell towards the mage behind Gold. Being astral, it went straight through Gold with no ill effects, finding its target and sending him staggering backwards, breaking his concentration and turning him visible again to let Gold finish him off – in doing so losing his own concentration on Catherine for a moment and making her lurch to the side.

Belle heard Leroy’s yell: “Rumpel! Do not hurt Catherine!” but then all that was lost as a bullet grazed her arm, making her cry out with the pain and drop back down into the SUV.

“If she even has a scratch I’ll… Belle, are you ok?”

“Belle! Belle, are you all right?”

Belle nodded, although she did not like the feel of the blood seeping between her fingers as she clutched her arm. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, vaguely aware of Gold’s voice in her ear as Jefferson leaned through between the front seats to give her first aid.

Finally, Leroy finished off their attackers and took control of Catherine again. Everything was quiet at last. Now all they had to do was get to the rendezvous with their client: their mark’s father, who had promised a substantial sum if they got him out of dodge unscathed.

Belle just hoped that the mage on the rooftop hadn’t been alone.

X

It was the small hours by the time they made it back to their nominal hideout. Of all of the places where they could have met, Leroy’s underground safehouse had been judged the safest, and no matter what happened during a Run or however they might get separated, they would always meet up there afterwards. Being set up for a dwarf it was not the most comfortable accommodation for the rest of them, but they were nonetheless glad of it.

The mark had been delivered safely and Catherine had got through her ordeal with only a few bullet marks; Leroy was already performing repairs in the garage whilst Jefferson got Belle’s arm fixed up. It was only a scratch, but it had been painful enough at the time.

Gold was the last to arrive, having had to pack up all his gear and make his way to them without the aid of Catherine. Belle knew that he had several other vehicles rigged up that he could use, but she also knew that he preferred to keep a low profile after an altercation such as the one he’d narrowly missed with the other mage.

He ducked into the living room where Jefferson and Belle were waiting, going straight over to throw his arms around Belle. He was not usually demonstrative when the rest of the group were around; trying to keep the futile secret going for as long as possible. Belle guessed that it was definitely out in the open now.

“Never do that again,” he mumbled in her ear. “I thought I’d lost you for good.”

“I promise. As long as you promise not to get ambushed by unfriendly mages again.”

Gold gave a weak chuckle. “I’m never going out into the field again if this is what happens. I’m staying firmly in my own office and running everything remotely.”

Belle just laughed, tightening her hold on him with her one good arm. Tomorrow, when she wasn’t so drained from tonight’s magic, she’d cast a healing spell on herself and everything would be as good as new.

Gold kissed her then, a fierce and desperate kiss that showed just how happy he was that they had both survived another Run, and how distraught he would be if he were to lose her for good one of these days. Belle knew the feeling, she felt exactly the same way. Although he was not usually in as much danger as the rest of them, tonight had proved that even Gold could end up in harm’s way if the stars aligned in a particularly horrible way.

Leroy came in, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Please, if you’re going to get mushy, do it elsewhere,” he said, but the smile on his face betrayed his happiness at seeing the two of them together and comparatively unharmed. Life in the shadows was a dangerous business; Runners tended to stick to the mantra of live fast, die young. Still, having someone to share the life with made Belle that much more determined to come home at the end of every Run, and she knew that Gold felt the same way.

“I love you,” she whispered, once Leroy had gone back out to Catherine and Jefferson, deciding to give the lovebirds some privacy, had gone with him to make himself useful by handing him spanners.

“I love you too. Now… Any idea how we should spend our fee? There’s a new command console that I’ve had my eye on for a while, and you said you wanted new Gecko-Grip gloves…” He tailed off as Belle kissed him again.

“Or we could have a nice romantic night on the town,” she suggested.

Gold nodded. “Yes. Yes, we could do that.” He paused, and Belle had to laugh when he spoke again.

“I don’t think we’ll be welcome at that bar again though.”

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 35

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter <<   >> Next Chapter >>

This time: It has to be a Chiss.

Next time: The confrontation aboard the Compass reaches its peak.

-/

Eli - Vanto had a right to his anger, Thrawn thought, but that was as much as he was willing to let himself linger on the subject at the moment. He followed dutifully behind Vah’nya and Vanto, taking care to check over his shoulder to confirm that they were not followed through the ship. The duo moved like they were two halves of a single entity. He had never seen them work together in hostile situations beyond the bridge of a warship, and even then a Navigator’s role was limited in situations that did not require immediate departure or swift, flawlessly executed arrival.

“The control room is on your right,” Vanto said, and Vah’nya gripped her blaster tighter.

They were after the prisoners - the loyal Chiss aboard the Compass who had been detained and not murdered. There probably weren't many, only those of high political value would have been spared from the immediate slaughter once the Grysks arrived. Besides, the enemy had already murdered a Navigator simply to prove a point. Those who did not have the gift of sight could not expect any mercy.

Their main objective at this stage was to locate and secure Senior Captain Khresh. Both Vanto and Vah’nya were rather hopeful that the man was still alive. Thrawn found that unlikely, but he would reserve judgement. They had not shared the details of their plan, but it was clear that there was a plan in play. He no longer felt the effects of the chemical concoction he’d been dosed with, no doubt in part to his biology, but also the stimulant that Vah’nya had administered. However, it was possible he’d been appraised of their plan and been unable to retain the information before the other effects of the hypo had kicked in. Some of his short-term memory remained out of his grasp, hazed and disjointed. He remembered being found, Vah’nya’s too-cold hands on his face and her lips moving as she assessed his status, but there were moments that eluded him.

The entry panel beside the door was red, locked down. Vah'nya slapped her hand to the biometric panel and it flashed, then opened to her unique signature. It shouldn't have, Thrawn knew.

"Thorough," Eli drawled sarcastically, lending voice to Thrawn's thoughts, though Thrawn never would have commented aloud. His fellow Captain then inclined his head to indicate Thrawn should follow Vah'nya in. A wise defensive position, with Thrawn carrying Un'hee and not able to assist much in combat.

He obeyed the silent command. Eli shut them in the small room. Thrawn could hear his footsteps from the other side of the door, but turned back to Vah'nya. "They will be able to see who accessed the terminal on the bridge," Said Thrawn. “We will not have much time.”

"That is fine," Said Vah'nya, voice hard. “Only the first half of this plan was intended to be a stealth mission.” She pulled her comm from her belt once certain the room was secure. It was silent, but blinked to indicate the receipt of an incoming transmission.

Vah'nya investigated the terminal datascreens while her fingers flew across the console, searching for information. "I'm in," She said after a moment. "Standing by."

The channel remained silent for four seconds, before ambient sound came over the comms. The antechamber leading into the cellblock opened and closed swiftly. The subsequent blaster fire was crisp and loud, the end of the bolts giving the indication that the cartridge was nearly empty. In his grip, Thrawn felt Un’hee stir, her shoulders curling in before she relaxed again, head still limp against his collarbone.

“Open cells twenty-two and twenty-four,” Vanto ordered tersely.

Vah’nya entered the command into the terminal. “Do you need backup?” She asked.

“Negative,” He said, voice softer. “I have five crew members.”

“Injuries?”

“Nothing life threatening,” He confirmed.

“Only five?” Vah’nya’s voice rose sharply as she queued up the cell feed. She flinched away from them almost immediately. Looking over her shoulder, Thrawn saw what she had and could hardly blame the young woman for looking away, regardless of her military indoctrination. It was a gruesome sight. Typical, but wasteful. Unforgivable.

Eli’s voice was tight. “Yeah,” He said. “Coming back to you now.”

“And Senior Captain Khresh?”

“They took him and the remaining Navigator to the bridge,” Came a quaking male voice in the vicinity of the comms device. It was not Vanto.

The edge to Vah’nya’s voice could not be missed. Even though she could hear the sound of the antechamber doors being activated without the use of her comm, she thumbed the device anyway. “Navigator… singular?”

“The other three have been terminated,” Eli confirmed, opening the door to reveal the small party of rescued prisoners. He was thumbing at a pockmark from a blaster bolt that had hit his chest armor, looking displeased. His left arm had taken a glancing blow, but he paid it little mind, so Vah’nya figured it likely singed his tunic more than it had damaged him. “Navigator Ve’hikri was the first, as Thrawn confirmed. The other two,” He trailed off, listening to another voice behind him that was too quiet for Thrawn to hear from a distance. “Were also murdered to prove a point, supposedly. I suspect they were systematically executing whomever they had left.”

“Who remains?”

“Ke’hala,” Eli said gravely. “They need a Navigator to steer the ship if they plan to take it. The younger the better.” Ke’hala was barely seven years old. Thrawn considered the child in his arms, who had been taken even younger. It was predatory. It was unacceptable.

“Why waste the resources?” Asked one of the rescued crewmen. “Why would our own be so heartless as to slaughter their own?”

Eli did not smile as he deferred to Va’hnya. The Navigator’s back remained straight, and her eyes were vivid in an ethereal way - with barely concealed emotion, so out of place for a Chiss, and even more so for a Navigator. She only met the human’s gaze for the briefest of seconds before she took point.

“We need to rethink what we know about our enemy,” She said, stepping out of the control room and into the hall. “These are not Scratchlings or some ambiguous client race. They are enslaving our warriors. They are morphing their perceptions and turning them against their own.” Vah’nya’s gaze was cold, chilled with fury and determination. “They have forgotten what it means to be a Chiss,” She said. “And it is up to us to remind them.”

While Vah’nya stoked the fires of determination in their recovered allies, Eli pulled back to Thrawn’s position. He did not speak to Thrawn, but he did check on Un’hee, who seemed to respond to his hand on her head, twitching as if in a deep sleep.

“Bridge team, acknowledge,” He said.

The static of the comm was bright for just under a minute then broke, the subsequent sounds violent and muzzy with battle. “Acknowledged,” Ezra’s voice came. He was out of breath. “A bit busy here.”

“Have you made it to the bridge?”

“We’re working on it,” The Jedi hissed. The sound of blaster fire was loud, and it took Bridger a moment to continue. “We could use some help.”

“We’re coming your way now. Do you have eyes on their Commander or Khresh?”

“They’re on the bridge,” A Chiss voice called from the other side of the comm. The voice was female. “I heard them talking to Senior Captain Khresh, but we can’t get through the blast door. Enemy forces are… significant. We’ve lost two.”

“Stay strong. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Ivant out.”

After he pocketed his comm, he looked up at Thrawn. “Trade you,” He began, offering Thrawn his blaster with one hand, motioning to Un’hee with the other. “We need to take the bridge.” His voice dipped lower. “My gut says Khresh is still alive, probably to keep Navigator Ke'hala compliant. I don't know how long that will last with us mounting an offensive.”

“Your assessment is likely correct,” Thrawn acknowledged. It was the most likely course, assuming that both Khresh and Ke’hala were alive. “However, switching roles is unnecessary. You are capable of leading this offensive. They are anticipating you.”

If Vanto was surprised that Thrawn had seen through his plans, he gave little indication. "Perhaps I could," Eli supposed. He met Thrawn's eyes with all the seriousness of a senior commander. A leader. The intensity of it lit up places deep inside Thrawn that he dared not name. "But it needs to be you."

-/

In battle, the plans drafted before the battle so rarely made it to the end without serious revision, if they were not discarded entirely. Commanders who saw fit rely on an unchangeable script were easily defeated. Commanders who could not adapt often crumbled under the weight of their indecision or doubt. Only those who anticipated and reacted dynamically tended to survive battle, though even then, the odds of survival were never absolute.

The Grysks were intelligent. Their hierarchy, while still unknown for the most part, had roles. The grunts - an amalgamation of low class officers - were likely low in whatever social caste made up their society. They were trained to die with honor, to take their own lives rather than be taken prisoner or probed for information. They held only scraps of information. For while the Grysk coveted other species, asserting their claim and injecting themselves into the hearts and minds of their clients, the practice had to originate from somewhere.

Within.

Their commanders subjugated both client and lesser Grysk alike. Those who were lesser rarely noticed for how deeply they were entrenched. This was a strength - their leadership was absolute when facing an enemy. Commanders had never been reported in pairs.

It was also a devastating weakness.

Vah'nya hadn't been the one to figure it out. Eli had told her, their fingers interlocked between them, her face pressed against his shoulder. He'd mouthed his suspicions in the quietest voice possible, speaking around tremors he couldn't control, his back slick with blood from a round of torture Vah'nya had been forced to watch. It had been the tactic of an interrogation for information she had never known.

Eli had always been brilliant like that, understatedly so. Now, with Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo on their side, Vah'nya could see how he had learned, the way the more senior captain's lessons had translated into something more, taking into account his strengths and bolstering his weak points. It was intriguing. She saw similarities in his tutelage of her, though he’d done more than copy his former mentor. Eli had made Thrawn’s lessons his own.

Going for subtlety, Vah’nya angled herself toward Ivant and Thrawn. They were conversing softly, and looked like they had been for a few moments now. She didn’t dare interrupt just yet.

"I abandoned my post aboard the Steadfast," Thrawn was saying, some part of a greater conversation Vah'nya had not been privy to. She had been checking over the rescued crew, confirming that none required intervention. They hadn't. “And what I did, after,” The Chiss met his gaze, with a look that Vah’nya considered nearly apologetic. What happened in the hangar, then. “My actions are not those of a commander one should follow.”

Eli shrugged. "I have known you-” He broke off to emphasize, “Who you really are, for a while now," Ivant said. "I know why you did it," He continued, so sure that Vah'nya swore she could feel the truth of it. His lips quirked upward, the stormy irritation beginning to clear in his eyes. “I know you just wanted to prevent anyone else from getting hurt, but you would have hurt us anyway because we care about you. I care. If you think-” The intensity of his own sincerity seemed to give him pause. Eli let the emotion wash over him, then regrouped, shaking his head. “So long as I’m around, you’ll never be alone. I’m tired of chasing after you, so stop leavin’ me behind.”

Thrawn's expression was similarly sincere, but equally as serious. He gave a deep, fluid nod as if making a vow.

Reaching around to cup the back of Thrawn’s neck, Eli deftly retrieved the tracker he’d placed on the other man aboard the Steadfast and held it out on the tip of his finger, showing Thrawn the nearly invisible, tiny beacon.

The other captain frowned at first. When he recognized it, his shoulders eased. “You are serious," He said. He did not gesture between them, but Eli seemed to catch his meaning. After all this. After the secrets, and the betrayal and the way he’d picked up the pieces only to throw it all away again.

"I just said I was tired of chasing after you," Eli said, giving the other man a small smile. “You and I both know we're better as a team.” His confidence was radiant and honest. He was like a sun, drawing Thrawn to revolve around him if only to bask in a piece of that light.

Beyond them, the comms crackled, their rescued crew talked quietly amongst themselves. The moment broke.

“But this isn’t about you and me,” Eli admitted. “Our people need you now. They need you to lead them to victory. To show their misguided brothers and sisters that a warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy is capable of.”

"And you?"

Earnestly, Eli asserted, "I'll have your back, every step of the way."

Thrawn smiled then. Not with the gleaming machinations of a master tactician, not the seriousness of a military commander. This was something different. Something that to the outsider might not have seemed much like a smile at all, but for the tiniest uptick of lips.

And yet.

Vah'nya felt the shift in Thrawn, like a tangle inside him shook loose, the conflict fading away. He straightened, and it was unlike anything she'd seen in him before. Like the weight he'd carried, the shadowy edge of grief and self incrimination, maybe even doubt dissipated.

He was not looking backwards any longer, Vah'nya realized. He'd come to terms with what he had done and who he had been, and these were his first steps coming out on the other side.

There was no hesitation as Thrawn placed Un'hee in Ivant's arms. She watched their hands catch on each other, the quick tangle and tender squeeze of fingers before Thrawn stepped back. The other Chiss’s gaze swept to her, likely displeased that she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Ivant's eyes were bright though, and she had no doubt that Thrawn, though far more stoic, felt the same.

They had hope. She could feel its currents like a brisk wind, new and electric and bright.

Vah'nya had often wondered how it would be to have both of them teaching her sisters, helping them in tandem to find themselves and their way forward amidst the many perils of the galaxy. To have Thrawn sharpen their minds and Ivant illuminate the connection between their minds and their hearts. Here and now, she knew the seeds of that goal- Ivant's master plan - had been planted.

It would not make what they had to do any easier, but the way forward was clear.

Thrawn waded through the room and out into the corridor, taking stock of their meager troops. Vah’nya followed but Ivant remained back, probably to assert that Thrawn was in control. It didn’t last more than a minute, though. Thrawn’s piercing eyes only had to narrow upon him for Ivant to realize Thrawn wished him to be at his side, regardless of what their troops took the statement to mean.

Vah'nya inclined her head to Thrawn as Ivant approached. Ivant dipped his chin in silent approval. He wasn't the only one who had learned, she thought, but held her tongue. Instead, she asked, "Your orders, Captain Thrawn?"

-/

Eli had only been allowed to stay back for as long as it took Thrawn assess their additions. The pointed gaze he’d been given made him pause. Thrawn had really taken it to heart, what he’d said. He didn’t have time to think about how good that felt, not with Un’hee shifting in his grip as she wrestled her way back to consciousness. It hadn’t taken long for her to begin to resurface, though Eli suspected it wasn’t because she wanted to be alert. She was simply reacting to the situation’s demands.

She would need to be monitored closely after this. Though, she did settle when Eli stood shoulder-to shoulder with Thrawn. Eli couldn’t help but be excited to see what Thrawn would do.

“I require information,” Thrawn said, addressing the rescued crew members. “Who executed these people?”

“It was a Grysk,” one of the males said. None of these crew members were anyone Eli knew, but Vah’nya had not tipped him off that they were untrustworthy. Her sense for that sort of thing had been growing. She’d learned from their previous mistakes not to take any chances when it came to what her instincts told her. “They had Chiss with them, but they did not fire.”

“Did they display any signs of disobedience?”

The crew member, a lieutenant by the look of him, shrugged. “Not especially. They just seemed… flat. Soulless.”

Thrawn considered for only a fraction of a second. "I do not desire any loss of life, especially that of a Chiss. However, those Chiss wearing coveralls are our brethren no longer. I would prefer that you stun rather than use lethal force, but do not hesitate to do what must be done."

“And the Grysks?”

Vah’nya fixed Thrawn with a look, a regal confident expression from out of the corner of her eyes, and as if magnetized, he met almost immediately. “Leave any Grysks to me,” She said, handing one of the crew members her weapon. That contradiction - disarming herself willingly, while claiming she’d be capable of handling the enemy - gave Thrawn pause. The Senior Navigator continued, “I can see them in ways you cannot. Please allow me to guide you.”

Thrawn didn’t like the idea, though. It wasn’t that the entire thing was unorthodox, Thrawn never quite cared for tradition. He turned to Eli for his consideration, and was given a confident nod. “Navigator Vah’nya is more than capable of bringing them down. She and Navigator Un’hee have been capable of killing Grysks while seemingly unarmed.” Ivant regarded him, asking for trust that had long since been earned.

He’d put it together, Eli knew. Thrawn’s gaze left him and settled on a still-incoherent Un’hee. “Our captors,” Thrawn suspected.

“I will show you. There are not many more between us and our destination, but we will not make it to the bridge without at least one altercation,” Vah’nya said. Then, she addressed the group with conviction. “Allow me to show you what a Navigator is meant to be.”

[cenobiavigantzky]

Wraith's Last Flight

EMISSION WARNING

The warning tone that accompanied those words echoed in the mindscape of the diminutive pilot. His shell smiled in the enclosed cockpit, a mental command diverting power from the main reactor to the supercapacitors in the cargo hold.

“Etel, they’re inside maximum range.” Rence exhaled nervously, finger hovering over the button that’d release the magnetic clamps holding his craft to the underside of his partner’s, his other hand firmly gripping the control yoke.

“I know.” The voice coming over the comms was synthesized- it could only be, after all. Still, the mischievous tone told his fellow mercenary all he needed to know.

He was going to pull that stunt. Again. 

“Could you go a single job without giving me a gorramn heart attack out of worry?” His Remora-class Interceptor’s sensors were cold, but the datalink with his partner’s Cetorhinus-class Transport told him all he needed to know. The red dots were getting concerningly close.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I just want to make your job easier, after all.” Four chimes let the support pilot know that their trap was ready to be sprung. He chuckled darkly, watching the activation prompt overlap his sensor suite.

“Etel!” Before the taller pilot could argue further, the cargo bay doors atop the small transport starship flung open violently, barely preceding a thunderous discharge of directed radiation covering the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Four sensor signatures changed from red to gray.

Dozens of kilometers away, raider crews cursed and swore at the middling, seemingly innocuous escort craft that’d just fried every component in their ships. Even the main reactors entered their safety shutdown mode to avoid loss of plasma containment, a system present in every spacefaring vessel to save the lives of the crew in case of catastrophic system failure.

Sadly for the meticulously designed machine, its efforts would soon be made moot.

“See? Perfectly safe. Go get them, tiger.” The flirtatious voice was Rence’s clue to bring his Interceptor’s own modules hot and maneuver out from its hiding position. He felt the carefully calibrated resistance of the main trigger under his right index while the acceleration pushed him into the seat.

A thought from within a composite coffin opened up a new communications channel. “Logistar Three-Three-Seven-Four-Niner, this is Cormorant One. Bandits are no factor. You’re cleared for thruster relight, over.” 

On the other side of the small transport from the currently ongoing one-sided massacre, three circles of blue light came to life, each dwarfing either of the escort craft. From Etel’s point of view, the very horizon seemed to be shifting thanks to millions of tonnes of spacecraft laboriously changing relative velocity to himself. Slowly but inexorably, the worn but well kept engines pushed the lumbering metal giant onwards through its journey.

---------------------------------------------------

Unruly brown hair whipped in the wind against a young man’s face in the mild bustle of the Starport. Distant announcements echoed off the featureless gray walls, people and cargo moving about in the typical languid pace of a small, far-flung colony of a budding agrarian world. 

His task of hangaring the ships finished almost a quarter of an hour ago, there was nothing for Cormorant Two to do but wait.

Halfhearted daydreams of distant retirement were interrupted by a smaller arm touching his for a second, the holographic display of his personal wrist computer showing the infusion of funds to his account. If one were to look closely, they’d notice the synthetic nature of the body that barely came up to his chest- as it was, its owner smiled up at him.

“We got a nice bonus from the salvage crews. Next job is in four days.” Etel’s silver hair bobbed in front of him while the fellow pilot skipped ahead happily. Rence sighed, removing himself from leaning back against a support pillar with a groan of effort to catch up.

It would be nice if his body didn’t feel twenty years older than it actually was.

The fake leather of his worn aviator jacket rustled with each step- perhaps something that could be avoided were him to take his hands out of its pockets. Too bad, they were warm, and would stay warm.

A lithe arm from his longtime friend wrapped around one of his the moment they were side by side, falling in step with the practice of a dancing duo. Which he supposed they were, in a generously metaphorical way. “Just dealing with that took you so long?”

Gentle, androgynous features sharpened in mock offense when looking up at him. “Of course not, doofus. Networking, negotiating, mingling with the locals- you know this operation isn’t just blowing up helpless idiots. Your job is the latter because you have the social skills of a recluse porcupine.” 

A beatific- and notoriously fake- smile now coloured Etel’s face. “Little people person me’s job is to keep this whole thing running. Which is why you have to make do with my absence for an hour or two every once in a while.” A hand came to his forehead in mock despair. “I know, it’s a peerless tragedy, my love. But I’m afraid fate has cursed us so.”

Rence didn’t bother rolling his eyes, relying on the utterly flat tone of his response to convey the necessary sarcasm. “Yes, my pain is unimaginable every time.” 

Truth be told, he couldn’t help but worry when his partner was alone. But said partner already knew that, so admitting it would be pointless teasing fodder.

---------------------------------------------------

“I’ll get a large house’s special. Thanks.” The lights of the small colony clawed futilely at the dark abyss through the windows of the small family diner. Perhaps one day, they would be a match; but that day had not arrived quite yet.

“And you, kid?” The older woman behind the front bar turned to Etel, whomst happily sipped his sweetened drink- made with something local, he didn’t quite ask. -while still leaning against his partner in crime, even while both were sitting at stools.

“Oh, don’t mind me Ma’am, I’ll just steal some of his.” The apparent young teenager shook his head, smiling happily. Said happiness coming from the fact that Rence’s jacket was wrapped around him, taking the worse off the chill that still bit through the connection suit. 

He could have gotten his civvie clothes out of the Cetorhinus, but there was little reason to when the option of simply abusing his wingman’s kindness was available.

That, and the jacket with the names of every member of Cormorant cheaply printed on its back held a very special meaning for both of them- slowly falling apart or not. Perhaps the universe’s way of displaying metaphorical irony at its own tragedies.

Before long, the brown haired pilot leaned closer still, doing his best to appear inconspicuous- and failing horribly at it, but perhaps the intention is what counted.

“Another one giving me the side-eye.” At least his whispering skills were not so bad to have the entire establishment hear it.

“Well, to be fair, to the unattentive eye it does look like you’re planning on doing something exceedingly illegal with me.” Etel smirked, offering a sip of the pink coloured liquid in his cup to the other man, who warily took a small sample before grimacing.

“Spirits, I’ll never know how you manage to find the most sickeningly sweet thing in every place we go to.” Rence gladly returned the glass to its rightful owner. 

“And yeah, the whole ‘funny misunderstanding’ angle kinda lost its luster to me after the fourth time someone called the police. We’ve had the credits for an adult-type shell for years now, you know.”

“I know.” The flight leader responded nonchalantly. “But it’s not my style. It just wouldn’t be me.” He winked at his partner. “Besides, you wouldn’t like it as much either; I know what makes you tick.” 

“I wouldn’t mind. It’d still be you.” The silver haired ‘kid’ looked at his companion, sighing wistfully. “I guess you just can’t help it when your heart is wrapped around my finger like that, can you?” 

Despite the teasing tone, his eyes held genuine fondness towards the taller man. Quite how he managed to make a shell express such complex, minute emotions; would forever be a mystery. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just do the usual.” 

Turning around, Etel made a show of stretching his body, one hand deliberately holding his shoulder length hair aside from the back of the neck. He smiled in success at hearing the small pause in cooking noises.

It meant the older woman had noticed the data ports that marked his body as, without a doubt, artificial. The surreptitious way he’d developed to disarm thoughts that Rence was some sort of abuser without bringing up the topic itself and making a scene had yet to fail them once.

Truth be told, convincing local constabularies to let the man go had indeed gotten somewhat old.

The first drops of rain touched the ground outside, refracting the meager lights of the colony on their way down. Distant points became blurs, joining the white noise of the mounting shower. Rence turned around on his stool, noticing his partner’s lost gaze into the distance. He knew why, of course.

It always rained in Pascia. An eternal downpour that hid the military spaceport where they’d met, both having been offered a better life in exchange for their efforts in the war. Them, and dozens more children, none older than twelve cycles. Innocents to be turned into pilots, to push the limits of what humans could achieve in the heavens-

-or so they’d been told. Sometimes the taller pilot wondered if the small, unmarked graves he and Etel had made in one of the hills overlooking the landing strips still stood. The members of Cormorant deserved better. They all did. Rence wrapped an arm around the shorter man, gently pulling him closer and rubbing his shoulder.

His flight leader might still blame himself for it. He’s just glad the graves stopped at six.

The sound of ceramic being placed on hardwood brought the pair’s attention back to the front bar. “Here you go. And I’m sorry for-” The older woman trailed off, embarrassed to admit her initial misconception by name. A wistful sigh preceded a warm smile framed by silver hair. “We understand, Ma’am. It’s not the first time.”

The other pilot nodded in agreement, taking the warm plate filled with a mix of vegetables and meat, local and not. “Thanks.” He didn’t even know what most of them were, but Etel had picked the place- that was reason enough to trust it.

The hours of the night passed inexorably, further diminishing the number of people inside the diner. Most had either left or moved upstairs for the night, but the pair couldn’t quite bring themselves to just yet. 

It possibly had something to do with the way Rence held him, arms wrapped around from behind, pulling his smaller body close in the comfortable booth. It was his place of peace, of being able to actually enjoy the soothing sound of rainfall with the one person he loved at his side.

The spell was only broken when the sound of ice clinking against glass interrupted the comfortable silence- one that came from his right arm starting to shake. A disappointed huff escaped his plump lips. He could feel a larger hand enveloping his, diminishing the unwanted movement.

But not stopping it.

“Getting bad?” It wasn’t the first, tenth, or hundredth time the issue had reared its annoying head, but the sweet, caring fool’s voice held just as much concern as the first happenstance of the event. 

At least by now he understood it, so Etel didn’t feel so guilty about making his partner worry pointlessly- though at this point he also knew that it could keep happening for a hundred years, and Rence would still worry to some degree. It was just one of the conditions of their relationship.

“Yeah. I should still be able to walk, but it’s better if we turn in now. I don’t want to have you snapping your spine carrying my shell upstairs.” A shaking elbow poked the taller man’s midsection, the usual cocky smile adorning the flight leader’s face once again. 

No matter how many times he told his wingman that the episodes didn’t trigger actual pain, they’d still probably never believe him.

Two taps on the table and a hand signal was all the brown haired pilot needed to inform the owner that she could close shop. Etel preempted her offer while Rence helped him walk towards the stairs to the side of the bar. 

“N-not real-lly. B-but thank-k you. I’ll be fi-ine.” The words were stuttered and clipped, but at least came out. He was thankful for her kindness, but there was really nothing she could do to help. It’d spread to most of his body by then, but at least his legs were still working. 

For now.

---------------------------------------------------

For small blessings- not that such beliefs were common anymore- the pair were able to make it to their assigned room for the night before the silver haired flight lead lost complete control of his body, cybernetic as it may be. The taller of the two held him close in bed while the shaking worsened to the point where it was easier for Etel to simply use his auxiliary speakers.

His teeth were clattering too hard to do otherwise.

“Thanks, Rence.” The voice was less natural than his normal one, but the other man didn’t mind. He just continued to hold his partner. 

“I just wish I could do more.” The wingman whispered.

“You’re already doing everything that you can. It really helps, and you know this doesn’t actually hurt; it’s just annoying.” 

Slowly, the shorter pilot managed to fight the shaking enough to wrap his arms around his lover. Even though his own body was thermally controlled to match a human’s- a perk of this specific type of shell- Rence’s warmth was still immensely soothing. 

A sudden, synthesized chuckle cut through the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Sometimes I wonder what the two of us back in flight training would react like if they could see us today.” 

Etel could feel the smile forming against his hair. “I’d be very confused. You’d probably just grin.”

---------------------------------------------------

Ten Years Earlier

The young pilot to be groaned at the display showing the results of the latest Electronic Warfare aptitude test. He hadn’t placed badly by any means- second place out of several dozen participants was more than respectable. 

The other kids around him chalked the reaction down to an overdeveloped sense of competitiveness- which he was known for almost as much as his inability to socialize in any way, shape or form.

The real reason being he’d placed just below his roommate, therefore losing the bet they’d made. Their egos had clashed from day one, helped in no small part thanks to opposing personalities. Time only made the issue worse by having the two leapfrog each other in every test, whether practical or theoretical.

They had finally been able to come to a ceasefire of sorts by using bets to disarm the tension, the latest being that the loser would need to obey a single order from the winner, no matter what. Rence had been the winner of the last one, using his wish to have Etel clean their room- childish, perhaps, but he could not come up with anything else.

The taller teenager steeled himself for the inevitable revenge, stepping into their shared dwelling. He was met by silver hair that framed an expression of a metaphorical cat that had caught the canary.

“I see someone checked the results.” The shorter trainee’s voice was overflowing with mirth- which only made the other more nervous.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with. Want me to get stuff done this time?” Rence closed the door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms in an unconscious effort to show resistance. Grey light illuminated the small room through the window, having fought valiantly through the eternal clouds that covered Pascia.

Quite why someone had picked a planet like this for a military aerospace base would forever befuddle him.

Long eyelashes blinked mischievously at him, the purple eyes behind them studying him from below from several angles while their owner hummed in thought. After a long moment, Etel spoke. 

“A kiss.” His smile broke into a full-on grin.

The brown haired roommate blinked for several seconds, running the absurdity of the request over in his mind. His response was peerlessly eloquent.

“I- what- why!?”

A head tilted in front of his chin- they’d been around the same height at the start, but his growth spurt was leaving the other teenager behind easily.

“Because it’s what I want. Or are you going to back off the very first time you lost?” The sheer self-satisfaction emanating from his rival was almost physical in its intensity.

“I just-” Rence sighed, looking away while blood slowly crept up to his cheeks at the thought. “If that’s all you want, you could literally ask any of the girls. Or half of the guys. They’d all jump at the chance.”

An index pressed against Etel’s cheek theatrically, looking up in fake thought. “I guess that’s true.” It was, and they both knew it. 

While most people steered clear of the antisocial prodigy, the other trainee who led the rankings in just as many exercises was a magnet for people, both thanks to his ability to easily talk with anyone about seemingly anything, and the way his appearance seamlessly mixed male and female characteristics- a recipe to being the object of affection or desire to many in the training program.

That fact only made his specific request all the more odd.

“But they’re them. You’re you.” Somehow, that explanation made complete sense for the shorter kid. How, Rence had no idea. 

“And why me?” His confusion had reached a peak. 

“I have no idea.”  Etel smiled innocently, closing his eyes in cheekiness. His rival groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration. It was always like that with him, which was no small part of the initial friction between the two.

At least he was getting used to it. Or so he thought.

Rence sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it, I guess.” From a completely neutral point of view, he had to admit that the silver haired teenager was attractive- but with his focus entirely on personal performance, what anyone looked like was simply not something the taller kid cared about; hormones be damned.

The way his heart rate skyrocketed when Etel physically placed Rence’s arms around his thinner waist, at the sensation of smaller hands wrapping themselves around his shoulders and an unfairly androgynous face tilting up to reach his own- 

-said neglected hormones were merciless in their revenge for being ignored for so long. Still, he tried his best to swallow away the desire to hold the smaller form in his arms tighter.

Brown eyes widened in puzzlement at the touch of a small tongue against dry lips, fruitlessly trying to find explanation in half-lidded purple orbs. Was that how kisses worked? It’s not like he had one before, but the few times he’d seen them in vids were decidedly not like this. 

That’s not to say it didn’t feel nice, rather the opposite. 

Softer lips started making contact with his, causing a sigh to escape his nose; the larger body slowly relaxing and adapting to the new situation- like it always did. 

While Etel achieved his performance through analysis and solving of problems, Rence’s forte was instinctively doing what ‘felt right’ instead of any explicable line of thought. Much to the frustration of many an instructor.

When a smaller tongue started caressing a larger one, neither cadets were paying attention to anything else but the sensations of their bodies together, their warmth flowing from one another, the combined scent. What both thought would not last 20 seconds had gone on for far longer- just how long, none could say.

Judging at how swollen both sets of lips were when they finally came apart, gasping for air; far too long and at the same time not nearly long enough. 

Etel smiled with a mix of mischievousness and satisfaction, carefully wiping errant saliva from the kiss away with his thumb. “Not bad. I’m looking forward to next time.” His voice left no questions that there would be a next time. 

By the time Rence’s mind had cleared, the shorter male was already laying in the lower bunk that he’d long since declared his possession, nonchalantly browsing the base’s intranet in his portable comm. The taller teenager cleared his throat and tried to busy himself with something, anything in his rucksack.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice cracking was bad enough, he didn’t need his rival seeing that his face was still as red as a tomato.

“Hmm, I wonder.” A lighthearted, musical tone was all the answer he got.

There was a next time, of course. If there was something Etel was better at than piloting, it was always getting what he wanted. Before long, the pretense of bets was dropped entirely, rivalry replaced by tentative connections which further evolved into genuine affection- and further exploration of said connections, of course. They were teenagers after all.

Teenagers about to be sent into war.

---------------------------------------------------

Six Years Earlier

“They’ve got a lock! I can’t-” Garbled noises interrupted Cormorant Six’s final transmission before her craft broke apart under sustained autocannon fire. Etel’s teeth nearly cracked from the tension they were under.

What was once a squadron of eighth fighters was now down to two units, and only because the jamming support and its wingman were to stay outside direct engagement range to safely act as force multipliers.

All around them, peerless works of engineering, from nimble interceptors to kilometers-long behemoths broke up under sustained assault by equally beautiful machines, masterworks of humanity set alight in the dark seas of space. Its masters and guides offered in sacrifice with their creations to the species’s never ending struggle with themselves.

A sight equally beautiful as it was tragic.

The worst part is that he’d warned command about this. Their jamming was getting less and less effective with every new battle, while the enemy’s was only improving. It was only a matter of time before their biggest advantage was nullified, no matter how much he fiddled with the frequencies and settings of his craft’s electronic warfare suite. 

The silver haired squad leader had simply been able to delay the inevitable.

“Wraith, what should we do?” Rence had dutifully covered his six during the entire flight, not that it had been necessary for once. With its main capability neutered, a single craft maneuvering just outside the furball wasn’t an especially important target.

Unfortunately, said furball, now firmly dominated by the enemy, was their only path out of the slaughter. The sheer amount of weapons fire and debris all around the remains of Cormorant Squadron made any other avenue of escape implausible at best, impossible at worst.

“Etel?” For the first time, he heard something in his- what were they, even? Partners? Boyfriends? Neither of them had bothered to find a word to describe their relationship. They simply never thought it necessary. 

But for the first time, Rence’s voice was tinged by fear.

A support fighter and a space superiority craft against eight dedicated interceptors. No matter how good they were, those odds would end with the complete destruction of Cormorant Squadron. He would die. 

But most importantly, Rence would die. Just like Peton, Clouise, Thilly, Mildra, Tera and Ryne had before him.

In the heart of a maelstrom of steel, polymers, fire and ceramic that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction, Etel pulled out the onboard systems access keyboard of his craft. 

“Fang, stay outside of their weapons range. I’ll clear a path.” His wingman’s stomach turned to ice when he noticed the jamming module passing by above his cockpit- ejected from his flight leader’s craft.

Said leader hovered a finger over the button to activate a batch file he’d prepared one day. ‘Leaf on the wind.’ It was completely suicidal, but he never figured he’d need to actually use it. Perhaps the mere existence of it tempted fate. More likely, it was simply a consequence of the lives they’d chosen.

Either way, it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Etel, what are you doing? You can’t take them on alone! Let me help!” Cormorant Two tried increasing engine power to get back in a position to protect the other craft, but his throttle refused to move. The message in one of his displays felt like a strike to the gut.

LEAD CRAFT OVERRIDE_

“I’m sorry, Rence. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Etel felt his body be pressed painfully against the back of the seat while his targeting solution switched to manual. His systems were awash with warning messages, many of which were supposed to be a death sentence to both spacecraft and pilot. 

He’d just need to find out for sure.

FLIGHT ASSISTANCE OFF

G LIMITER OFF

ENGINE LIMITER OFF

OVERVOLTAGE PROTECTION OFF

REACTOR LIMITER OFF

THERMAL PROTECTION DISABLED_

‘Fang’ watched in mute horror while the craft he was supposed to protect sped towards the waiting enemies- glowing specks of thrust chamber lining trailing in its wake, mingling with the stars beyond even while the fighter they came from slowly but surely began to come apart from the inside out.

Machine and man flew together as one for the first, and last, time- a bittersweet song of violence and art, unbound by future or fear. Writing their hope of survival for their beloved with glowing tracers and leaking plasma against the cold of the abyss, creating maneuvers with no names for the sake of simply staying alive just one more moment, dodging one more round to open a path.

But for each opponent fallen, the price was paid with draining shields, glancing blows, failing systems and venting atmosphere. By the time Rence saw a second burst of metal and sparks cut their way across Cormorant One’s cockpit, the warnings about pilot heart rate and erratic inputs no longer reached his ears. 

He didn’t know when the datalink with Wraith finally failed, only that the override was lifted and the one remaining enemy who hadn’t disengaged was lining up for a firing solution on the one person he had left in the world- on the wounded spaceship with more parts missing than not, desperately trying to maneuver with one engine and failing systems. 

Trying to make sure the taller pilot would survive, at the cost of itself. The most selfless act of selfishness- for the living are those who need to carry the sorrow. Leading the nose of his fighter ahead of the Interceptor about to end Wraith’s tale, a man at the heart of a storm shouted ‘No’.

Weapon mounts shuddered while the machine compensated for the violent forces trying to steer its pilot’s aim off course. Autocannons, machineguns and missiles sang in fury- a payload intended for an entire mission, depleted in a couple of seconds. 

“Rence?” The voice on the radio was pained, much like the signal itself. So many warning chimes coloured the background of the audio transmission, the brown-haired man couldn’t even tell them apart. “I guess long and midrange comms went out.” 

Etel tried his best to focus on the screens lining the walls around his body, finding it more difficult than it should be. Whether because of the fact most were broken, his vision was slowly failing, or the mixture of black and red fluid covering them, he couldn’t quite tell. 

Probably a mix of all three.

“Oh. A lot of things are out.” A shaking finger flipped through options until its owner could finally hear something. 

“Cormorant One, do you copy? Wraith? Etel, answer me!” He could almost see the other man’s frantic face when Fang entered formation off his left wing- metaphorically, of course. There were several layers of ceramic and steel separating the two enclosed cockpits. 

That, and he didn’t have much of a left wing anymore.

“Hey big dummy. Are you alright?” An unbidden smile came to his features, silver hair matted in red clinging to the seat while his head turned weakly to the side.

“Am I-” Utter disbelief stopped the response temporarily. “Yes! What’s your status!?” The sheer desperation in his lover’s voice hurt to hear.

“I’m- I’ll be alright.” Rence was safe. Everything would be fine. “I’ll be slaving-” his voice shivered in addition to being barely above a whisper. “-Wraith to you. I’m cold. I think enviro is down.”

The wingman’s heart sank further at the reestablished datalink.

WRAITH -> FANG

AUTOMATIC FORMATION ENABLED

EMERGENCY MEDICAL ATTENTION REQUIRED

EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE REQUIRED

PILOT INPUT REQUIRED - NO DATA

The incessant chimes of the combined alarms that would haunt his soul for the rest of its days echoed through the silence, joined only by the distant sound of the largest, and last, battle of the war fading behind the two.

“Rence, get us-” Etel’s voice faded for a second. “-get us home, alright?”

“I will.” Cormorant Two wiped his eyes, leading the stricken craft as fast as he would dare without risking it to fall completely apart. The only response he got to any further comms attempt were the deafening alarms of Wraith’s systems.

The flight back to base was the longest he’d ever had. Too long, a voice inside him said. He shut it down by focusing further on the gentlest slope down into Pascia’s atmosphere that his hurry would allow, keeping a close eye on the other craft which struggled to maintain control, the onboard computer doing its best to fly with the mangled remains of control surfaces.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant Two. I am declaring an emergency. I have Cormorant One’s craft with me, we need a clean runway and emergency vehicles for landing.” He never thought about one day remembering those procedures- they were Etel’s job after all. Yet they came to his mind as fresh as the day he’d learnt them.

“Fang, Pascia Tower. We were wondering what the other radar contact with you was- but all our strips are full. Go around, I repeat, go around and hold pattern.” Rence’s teeth clenched in anger.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant One needs immediate medical attention. We will be landing on first approach. Clear a runway or I’ll pick one to crash into.”

“Damnit.” The ATC operator stood up from his chair, trying to see which one was the least full with damaged spacecraft in one form or another. The entire airbase resembled an emergency field hospital more than anything else.

Rence grimaced at the grisly sight after finally dipping under the everpresent cloud cover- damaged or destroyed crafts as far as the eye could see, including several in flames which seemed unperturbed by either the rain or the efforts from the fire crews. 

“Fang, Pascia Tower. 21 is the best we can do right now. Good luck.” 

Lining up for the landing attempt, he could see several other fighters being hurriedly moved into the barren dirt, either by engine power or just human desperation. 

It was still a shorter length than he’d like, but it’d have to do. 

A harsh flare-up of the nose and full reverse thrust got his spacecraft onto the ground just after the warning lights, the landing gear groaning in protest but holding. He looked back at Wraith doing its best to emulate the maneuver, tyres hitting the wet tarmac with more force than they were ever designed for.

And the entire frame of the machine finally failing.

A shower of sparks defied the film of water that perpetually covered every surface, following the main cockpit and reactor shell while they slid their way down the runway, debris bouncing off of Fang’s shields. Rence disengaged the brakes, letting his ship roll along with the remains of what was once a proud electronic warfare fighter- 

-Hoping against hope he could still find Etel inside.

His boots hit the dark surface before either machine had fully stopped moving, climbing atop the broken form of Wraith and yanking the external emergency canopy ejection handle. Before the smoke from the explosive bolts cleared, the taller pilot had leaned inside.

A part of him wished he hadn’t.

“Etel? Etel!?” His hoarse pleas fell on deaf ears against the bloodied, unmoving body inside the cockpit. A pair of fingers against the side of a slender neck confirmed his fears. Before he could start any attempt at CPR, a warbled electronic tone caught his attention.

Only two screens inside the cockpit still worked, presumably off the emergency power supply on the main shell. One had a simple but darkly appropriate message.

E.O.L._

But the other seemed to be desperately trying to catch his attention despite intermittent failures.

WRAITH -> Lt. Rence

CORE BREACH IMMINENT

EJECTION SYSTEM FAILURE

MANUAL PILOT EJECTION REQUIRED_

It took him a second to process what the dying machine was requesting, followed by frantically undoing the clasps of the harness holding Etel’s body to the seat and doing his best to carry the smaller body, slick with oil and blood.

He could see an ambulance heading towards him while he sprinted full speed away from the remains of the craft with his lover’s unconscious- just unconscious. Nothing else.- body in his arms. 

“CORE BREA-” A wave of heat and force stopped his shout, flinging both forms forward and into the air.

Before his vision went dark, he could feel the hard ground meeting his back with large prejudice, and a softer impact on his chest- his arms still wrapped around the other pilot.

Etel was safe. He had to be.

Good.

Goo- 

---------------------------------------------------

A gasping breath and frantic eyes mark Rence’s return to consciousness. Before he could whip his head around, a soothing whisper coming from his chest took his attention. 

“I’m here. I’m here, everything’s fine. I’m fine.” The smaller body laying beside him, still firmly wrapped around his arms, caressed his hair gently with a delicate hand. 

“You fell asleep after relaxing when I got better.”

A long sigh escaped the taller pilot’s lips, leaning his head down to nuzzle against soft silver hair, a rougher hand carefully caressing the covers of Etel’s connection ports in his nape. 

“Sorry. I should be the one helping you, not the other way around.”

The flight lead pinched the top of one of Rence’s ears in a swift movement. 

“None of that, mister. We’ve been in this together in one way or another from the very start. I worry about you just as much as you worry about me.”

A small but meaningful smile coloured the brown haired man’s expression. “Fair enough.”

Etel nuzzled back happily against his lover’s chest, taking in his warmth, touch and scent. While they made his heart melt like always, a slender finger poked the other man regardless.

“And as much as I love your smell, you do need a shower.”

A moment passed in which the shorter pilot could hear loud sniffing from above his head. “Yeah, that last job did go on for a while. Coming with me?”

Purple eyes met brown ones, the perfect definition of the word ‘smug’ being encased in the synthetic orbs alone. 

“Technically I don’t need to. But I suppose I can grace you with my presence, yes.” Rence rolled his eyes.

“Well excuse me, princess. Not every peasant has a self-cleaning body.” If only because they were the second most expensive variant of shells, only behind military-focused versions. Let alone a teenager type with that feature.

For perhaps understandable reasons, younger-looking synthetic bodies with the suit of options that led themselves to the more carnal type of activity were still illegal in many places, though public opinion was largely divided in more recent years. It still made the price for one of them eye-wateringly high thanks to low supply and high demand.

“We could get you one, you know. You don’t have to keep suffering for no reason.” Etel’s expression softened while Rence groaned in discomfort at the effort of getting up from the bed after enough limbs were untangled, further proving the point.

“Eh, not yet. We’re the same age, you know. I’m not some washed up old man.” He yawned, stretching his back while walking into the bathroom. The ‘boy’ followed. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, your body’s just worn.” Synthetic hands indistinguishable from natural ones caressed a somewhat lean but toned body pockmarked with scars from shrapnel.

“Oh thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” Rence helped undo the clasps of Etel’s connection suit, most of his own clothing having been removed the moment the pair had entered the cheap but homely suite. 

Body warmth and touch was one of the few things that helped deal with the silver haired pilot’s spikes of PTSD, rooted in the endless, penetrating feeling of cold he’d experienced before dying. The fact that his brain was able to be recovered at all after almost an hour without blood flow with only minor damage was almost miraculous, even with interstellar-age medical science. 

The radiation burns, overpressure damage and puncture wounds that Rence had suffered in the core breach event, at least, were mostly healable without lingering effects.

Mostly.

“You’re just scared of the operation.” Etel’s unfairly beautiful face pouted, poking the taller man in the chest.

“It’s not exactly getting your ears pierced, you know. It’d take me months to get back up to speed. It took you more than a year to get that shell adjusted just right. And still-” His voice trailed off, a mix of consternation and concern colouring masculine, but refined, features.

The expression of the shorter member of the duo softened, a look of regret and pity that could bring the most unemotional of creatures to a halt, caressing the side of Rence’s face softly.

“You know the problem isn’t with the shell, love.” 

His fellow pilot sighed, wrapping his arms around the smaller form. “I know. But wanting to help you more and not being able to makes me feel so-”

“Like I always say, you already help. If it makes you feel better, I can look for another doctor next time we’re in a major hub. Is that better?” 

That would make it the twelfth doctor ever since they left the military.

“I- Yeah. Sorry I keep bothering you about it.” Etel stopped his bout of guilt with a kiss, caressing Rence’s tongue with his gently while their lips were locked together. 

A flick of the foot sent their clothes back in the general direction of the bed, before turning on the shower and enjoying his lover’s jolt of surprise at the initial stream of cold water before the heating element did its job.

“No need to say sorry, you silly. You bother me because you worry, you worry because you care.”

The silver haired ‘teenager’ poked his partner in the chest, looking up at his face with a smile.

“And you care because you love me.”

Said partner couldn’t help but smile back, warm water cascading down his messy hair. “You make it pretty easy.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just that irresistible.” 

Rougher hands wrapped themselves around Etel’s body when he turned around to close the shower box, pulling him back gently against Rence while the taller man nuzzled into the side of his neck, his slim but soft mechanical body following the instincts of the biological brain controlling it to lean back further into the touch, long eyelids fluttering closed over purple eyes.

“I love you. Please never leave me.” The whisper held such few words, but carried so much meaning from the very depths of the wingman’s being - the shorter of the pair, still melting under the sensation of the embrace and caresses, knew that. 

The haunted look he could see in the deceptively warm brown orbs of the taller man every single time he felt him awake in a cold sweat proved just how deep their connection went.

“I love you too, Rence. I promise I’m never going away again.” Etel tilted his head up and to the side, their mouths connecting once more. The flight lead smiled faintly into the kiss while he felt his lover’s body slowly relax against his back, the arms around him showing no sign of letting go. 

To the disappointment of both, the notification that they’d used 20% of their allocated daily water chimed just after hands had begun roaming around sensitive places and desire had joined love in the mixture of the kiss.

Through great willpower, the silver haired pilot managed to disentangle himself from his lover’s advances, even though it hurt his soul to do so. “Lat- later, later.” He turned around, grabbing the sponge from the recession in the wall and smacking Rence in the face with it playfully. “Shower first, sex later you horndog. Even if I have to scrub you myself.”

A muffled sigh of disappointment could be heard behind the cleaning implement, followed by an equally muffled whine.

Despite their best efforts- or Etel’s, at least -further kisses, embraces and caresses did inevitably take place. Perhaps to be expected, as it had been the case with every shower they’d taken together as lovers to one degree or another. By the time the water allotment ran out, Rence was softly running his fingers along silver hair. 

Hair that was slowly moving back and forth given that its owner was currently kneeled in front of him, letting out rather indecent moans- muffled as they were thanks to the taller of the pair’s member filling the mouth they were coming from.

In all fairness, they had managed to finish a thorough shower first. Just.

Not that Etel was thinking about that at the moment. Rather, higher thought processes weren’t really present in general- not when he had Rence’s heat and taste filling his mouth, combined with the scent of the man he loved, clean and pure. 

Having his hair petted while doing so only served to send him further into the realm of base instincts, letting his feelings be translated through the pleasure he was giving.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it himself. 

Much the opposite, the firm heat sliding against his lips, tongue and throat; the knowledge that it was Rence’s length that was taking him in that way, the reassuring sensation of his lover’s hands on him, they all combined into gentle but constant waves of pleasure running down his body. 

The clipped moans he could hear from above whenever his lips wrapped themselves around the base of the shaft certainly didn’t hurt either. It was one of the several things his shell allowed him to do that his original body couldn’t quite handle despite repeated attempts.

The combination of no gag reflex and secondary air intakes made for a very useful party trick.

“Etel, if you keep going-” Rence’s attempt at gently nudging the shorter pilot’s shoulder back was interrupted by a synthetic hand grabbing his firmly and holding it, and a further increase in the intensity of the act.

“I know. Gimme.” Through auxiliary speakers or not, the pleading whisper from the one person he loved the most only served to hasten his peak, the heat that’d built up behind his length flowing forward in bursts and being happily swallowed, the shaking of his body and gasps of breath happening in time with them.

A flurry of kisses followed, the taller pilot once again embracing Etel tightly- and caressing his body, one hand specifically sliding down his back before massaging his plump rear and finding the self-lubrication almost dripping from the entrance. 

The silver haired ‘teenager’ held back a moan when a finger started teasing his entrance, caressing the sides slick with excitement.

A breathy whisper was able to escape their kiss, just. “I’m already pretty close, dummy. I want to keep going in bed after we towel off.”

Rence deliberately slid his finger inside, gently rubbing against the sensitive bundle of synthetic nerves he’d long since memorized the placement of for a moment, stopping his lover’s swear of pleasure with another kiss before pulling away and grabbing a towel, doing his best to feign innocence. “Fair enough.” 

His smile easily betrayed the lie.

Etel’s stare could burn a hole through reinforced carbon weave- metaphorically of course. That option was not allowed in civilian shells. 

However, the muscular weave necessary to give a one hundred and fifty centimeters, two hundred kilogram body normal mobility was more than enough to carefully tackle the taller man into the bed the minute they’d both towelled off most of the water- and maneuver them so said man was on top.

Rence was familiar with this song and dance by now, not needing to reorient himself before kissing his lover again, tongues caressing eachother in a feeble attempt to convey the intensity of the feelings between the two.

The pair could kiss for the rest of time, and it’d still be a pale demonstration of the undying flame their souls burned together with. A hypergolic bond refreshed every single day for near on a decade. 

One might ask why not be officially married at that point, and the answer was merely that neither felt the need to- after all, marriages are until death. 

They were long past such trivial difficulties.

Powerful legs ending into slender feet locked themselves around Rence’s hips, further enticing the man while a pale hand caressed the engorging length pressed between the two, gently stroking it into full attention. 

The wingman had once asked why Etel kept his own member, mostly because of the strong reluctance the other part of the pair felt about it being touched at all, let alone used in any way, shape or form. After all, to change it for a female type would be trivial with his new body.

“I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not like it even fully works anyway. Even if it did, it’s definitely not big enough to be of much use. I guess it’s just a part of me I don’t mind being there, and our preferred option isn’t even a hassle to prepare anymore.” A familiar grin coloured his features at the mention of the benefits a synthetic shell provided.

It was one of the many quirks of the smaller person that he’d simply accepted. They were more than worth it, after all.

That, and Rence was pretty sure the little minx just really, really liked their ‘preferred option’.

A notion that was further proved with the way the flight leader downright purred in anticipation the moment his entrance was touched by his lover’s length, the blunt tip spreading it open thanks to the plentiful lubrication counteracting just how tight the silver haired ‘teen’ always was.

Striking purple eyes gazed lovingly at Rence through halfway-closed eyelids, hints of perspiration- unnecessary as it was -covering flawless skin painstakingly customized to recreate the original body his beloved inhabited. 

The taller pilot, for the umpteeth time, thanked every possible god that might exist for just how lucky he got to not have his little demon ripped away from him.

‘Angel’ wasn’t quite the right word after all.

Willpower fought the instinct to close his eyes at the sensation of Etel’s tight folds slowly swallowing his shaft when he carefully pressed their bodies closed together, all for the chance to watch his lover’s reaction. 

The way those beautiful violet orbs rolled back, the way he gripped whatever was available- most of the time that being Rence’s hair, a feeling he simply adored -to try and handle the sensation while his back arched, even the way a breathless moan was often coupled with an expletive.

It was all quintessentially Etel, and there was no force in the universe that could stop Rence from showering his shorter partner with growling kisses in a desperate attempt to convey what he was already saying between them. 

“I love you. So fucking much.”

Said beloved smiled while the words sent shivers down his spine, mixing with the electric waves spreading from his insides thanks to the deliciously hot and thick member filling them. The moment when he could feel his lover all the way inside him just before either began moving was perhaps his favourite, for one main reason.

He could feel Rence’s warmth and heartbeat. Around him, inside him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Much the opposite. 

He had the love of his life happily giving him all the intimacy he possibly could, every time he possibly could. The life they’d led wasn’t easy, but this-

This made it worth it a thousand times over.

 “I love you to-” his response was interrupted by a mix of whimper and moan rising in pitch thanks to the combined waves of pleasure spreading around his body- coming from his insides due to his lover having started to move, deliberately angling their bodies to make the tip of his length rub against the most sensitive spot Etel had.

The other point of origin was his chest, thanks to Rence happily caressing one of his nipples with his tongue while sucking it, and using a free hand to play with the other.

“Come on, all my weak points at once-” His whining was met with a stronger thrust, paired with a stronger suction and harsher flicking of the tongue. More than enough to force another moan out of him. “Godsdamned cheater.”

He simply got another passionate kiss for it, with the taller pilot sneaking a hand behind one of his shoulders to hold him close while continuing to thrust inside. 

The smaller body instinctively wrapped around his lover, hanging onto the man with legs and arms both, needing to be with him as much as humanly possible. 

Etel melted under Rence further while the waves of pleasure got more and more intense, manmade muscle fibers twitching in the overload of the sensors. 

Sensors purposely set by their owner to near maximum gain to reflect the way his original body wasn’t yet experienced enough to have the whole ordeal be anything less than overwhelming the few times it had the chance to do it.

“Rence-” Etel’s gasping voice, coloured by the sensation of his body melting in pleasure, repeated the name without stop- a mantra to deal with just how strong the sensation was, of his body peaking while feeling his lover all around and inside him. 

As close and intimate as they could physically get, two souls seeking eachother, to become whole. 

Even under the onslaught of physical signals, the shorter pilot’s heart fluttered when Rence slowed down somewhat while holding him back just as tight. Sacrificing his own pleasure just so Etel could enjoy his own climax more, fall even deeper in love.

If that was even possible.

The flight lead had no idea how much time had passed filled with breathless, shaky moans accompanied by a shivering body until his lover kissed him deeply again, deeper tones joining his song before liquid heat coated his oversensitive insides. 

Every bit of instinct left in his mind ordered shaking limbs to further lock around Rence, to not let him go. To never, ever let him go.

To simply bask in the warm, messy wetness and sweaty ball of hormones that the remains of Cormorant Squadron were at the moment.

Not that he had much of an option, considering the taller man was clinging to him just as tightly. Etel wouldn’t have it any other way.

The continuous kiss was only broken by his wingman nuzzling into the crook of the neck where silver hair came to a stop, three words being repeated once more yet not losing any of their power.

“I love you.”

Shivers of pleasure instead of anguish still emanated from his core at random intervals, but not enough to stop Etel from caressing Rence’s hair gently, coddling the man with all the affection of a newlywed bride. 

Maybe the flight lead would decide to be one someday, who knew. But for now, the relaxed smile while the two settled into a position more conducive to long-term comfort was physically unable to waver during his answer.

“I love you too, Rence.”

---------------------------------------------------

Strange wildlife cried in greeting of the rising sun, shrill tones emanated from odd, small lizard-like creatures breaking the peaceful silence of early day. One weary eyelid cracked open, protesting the rays slowly but inexorably marching their path across the two forms tangled in bed.

“Morning, hon. Slept well?” Etel’s light, melodic voice came from the body the taller pilot currently held close to him, both laying on their sides. Rence couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t slept with his lover’s back glued to his form, the one fit they’d settled in early on simply because it just felt right.

A groan slowly morphed into actual words, vocal chords as worn as the rest of his body taking a while to kick into gear. “Mm- yeah. Did you?”

He knew that brains placed into full-body shells didn’t have- nor could even achieve -the same type of rest normal humans had, but they still underwent a sort of ‘preventative maintenance’ to fulfill many of the same tasks.

Deleting useless information, organizing useful data, resetting chemical balance. 

But androids did not, in fact, dream of electric sheep.

Still, Etel used the time to practice a sort of self-reflection and meditation. That and watching shows on the extranet- after all, there is only so much mental self-care one can do every day for several hours while being held tight against a snoring man.

Gods be praised for AI-powered noise removal of audio inputs.

“Yeah, my night was nice.” Carefully crafted synthetic fingers caressed the rougher hand wrapped around a slim midsection and chest. “Also, you got a message a few hours ago.”

Brown eyes slowly focused on the desk nearby, the blinking light of his wrist device giving merit to the claim. A sigh followed.

“Who the hells messaged me in the middle of the gorramn dawn?” Stiff muscles stretched themselves under electrical orders from a brain protesting having to reach wakefulness, before curling themselves around the shorter pilot again.

Bright orange dots of plasma hovered in the air in front of Etel, tridimensional pixels being created by the laser emitters in his wrist. Rence had long since given up on trying to stop his partner from invading his personal messaging system. 

Or any other system for that matter.

Etel chuckled airily at the small huff coming from behind his head, a mix of fondness and incredulity at the specific sender having kept in contact for so long.

FANG -> PILOT

REQUEST STATUS REPORT

REQUEST Flt.Lead Etel STATUS REPORT

TEMP. PILOT UNSATISFACTORY_

Rence couldn’t help but smile at the sheer stubbornness of the Combat Intelligence. This was its eight ‘temporary pilot’ after the couple had left the military already.

The previous seven had also been deemed unsatisfactory.

“We also need to refuel-” The silver haired lover brought up a list in the holographic projection. It looked far too long for Cormorant Two’s tastes, so he simply groaned and hid his face in said locks of silky synthetic strands.

“- rearm-” Etel continued. Rence groaned more.

“- run maintenance checks-” The taller member of the pair whined in protest. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? We have four days.”

Cormorant One turned his head around as much as he could while still tangled in his partner’s limbs. It wasn’t much, but it served to convey his stance on the matter. 

“And if we find any issues, we’ll need these extra days to deal with them. Never do tomorrow what you can do today.”

“I hate you.” The response lacked any of the venom or hurt such words would be expected to. Both knew why.

“No you don’t.” Etel grinned, teasing.

“No, but I can pretend I do.” Rence pouted in response.

“No you can’t.” Etel grinned wider.

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” Yet the wingman smiled.

“That I am. And you love me anyway.” 

An annoyed yet amused face confronted an impossibly smug one. Neither mattered once their lips touched, parted by tongues seeking contact for the millionth time, to be followed by a million more.

[cheryls-blossomed]

how would rank your top five episodes for westallen?

Hm, actually this is challenging, in the sense that I think that there are many episodes which are good for Westallen for vastly different reasons, but I’ll try and pick five which I think are particularly integral to Westallen’s development and which therefore are my personal favorites for their relationship.

1x21 “Grodd Lives”: Dare I make such a sweeping statement, but I honestly think that “Grodd Lives” is possibly the most important episode to Barry and Iris’ relationship growth in the entire series thus far. If “The Man in the Yellow Suit” is the turning point in their relationship after nearly two decades of Barry pining after Iris, then “Grodd Lives” addresses the aftermath of that turning point. Because yes, it deals with the immediate fallout of Iris discovering that Barry is The Flash, but the repercussions of that revelation force both Iris and Barry to deal with the reality of their relationship and friendship. In a way, it’s heartbreaking that these two best friends have somehow ended up toppling the boat that they used to sail together to safe harbors. It’s largely Barry’s fault for recklessly choosing to keep his superhero identity a secret from Iris, originally to honor the promise he made to Joe (despite the fact that it was IRIS who believed him about his father’s innocence when no one else did), and eventually because the mystery of the superhero aura gave him the unique opportunity to flirt with Iris and explore his feelings for her and her feelings for him behind the safety of the mask. Everything Iris says this episode is heart-wrenchingly true; her feelings of betrayal, her anger, her heartbreak, and her sadness are all validated in this episode. And both Barry and Iris have to deal with the chasm that has opened up between them as a result of unspoken feelings and secret identities. Iris feels betrayed, and Barry is both guilt-ridden and somewhat frustrated, having had the knowledge since 1x15 that Iris reciprocates his feelings. Unlike the inevitable heartbreak of 1x09, however, 1x21 is equally hopeful. The most significant lightning rod moment in season 1 happens in this episode, and it arguably remains one of the three most clearly defined lightning rod sequences, along side Iris returning Barry’s memories in 3x21, and Iris weaponizing the lightning rod concept in 4x01 to break Barry out of his “beautiful mind” phase. “Barry, do it for me,” and there’s hope in this statement — there’s deep love in this statement. Up until this point, Thawne’s expertise due to personal experience has guided Barry at the comms; both Cisco and Caitlin have provided scientific advice over the comms and varying degrees of support, but this situation is one which Cisco, Caitlin, Joe, or even Thawne, if present, could not  contend with. Because Iris appeals to Barry’s devotion, his love, his heroism, his very humanity, and because she knows his heart as well as her own, she is the only one able to tap into this part of him and effectively snap him out of Grodd’s mind control. It’s her first time in the lab while Barry is out in the field, and she saves him, and he, in turn, saves Joe and the city. While the final rooftop scene does not provide a definitive answer as to the future of their relationship, it’s hopeful. Barry wouldn’t be the Flash without Iris, and Iris does have feelings for him and is ultimately unsure of how to progress. The scene is bittersweet, but it’s powerful, and it looks to the future positively.

1x15 “Out of Time”: The single-most important fact of “Out of Time”, in terms of Barry and Iris’ relationship progression, is that it effectively depicts what happens when Iris’ subconscious romantic love for Barry reaches boiling point and is consciously realized. In a way, both 1x13 and 1x14 were building to this, but in reality, the entirety of season 1 prior to 1x15 was building to this. Eddie already questioned the wedding band Barry gave Iris, Iris’ jealousy (although I think Iris’ feelings here are simply reduced to jealousy, when I think a lot of it is sadness and hurt and heartbreak, because she’s reeling from Barry’s confession and realizing that she’s always been in love with him, and then finds out he’s dating someone new) about Barry and Linda has been mounting, and Iris and the Flash continue to casually flirt. Thing get complicated at the serendipitous (at least for Barry and Iris) bowling double date. Eddie calls Iris out on it, Iris becomes defensive and chooses Barry and her relationship with him (which is why it’s both hilarious and fallacious that people continue to claim that Iris always chose Eddie, when in reality her loyalty to Eddie and her love for him did not preclude her always putting Barry and her relationship with him first), Barry and Iris discuss whether they were too… (flirtatious? touchy-feely? romantic? utterly not platonic?), and Iris admits to Barry that she doesn’t think that Linda is the one for him (to which Barry responds, “Then who is?” And Iris hits him with her signature Barry Allen is My World™ heart eyes). This happens so rapidly for a variety of reasons, not least because Mason’s investigation on Thawne has been heating up, and Iris informs Barry of this fact, so as the narrative stakes get higher, Iris’ feelings become more apparent. And then of course, when things could not get more stressful (Joe’s been kidnapped by Mardon, and Barry and Iris are unsure of their own fates as a tsunami is heading to the shore), Iris finally admits her feelings to Barry, Barry, of course, reciprocates both with words and his signature Iris West is the Love of My Life My Heart My Everything™ heart eyes, and they kiss. Although the majority of events in this episode are subsequently erased via time travel, this episode is frankly one of the most important to Barry and Iris’ relationship, because it does not simply provide a short glimpse into Iris struggling with her feelings for Barry, but instead gives her the narrative space to deal with those feelings and finally tell Barry how she feels. After Iris was narratively silenced for several episodes after Barry’s confession in 1x09, it’s incredibly important that she gets this episode to deal with everything: from Barry’s confession, to her negative feelings about Barry and Linda, to her love for Barry, and to her struggling between her feelings for Barry and her feelings for Eddie. 

2x20 “Rupture”: I almost switched 2x20 out for 2x16, “Trajectory,” mainly because my favorite Westallen scene is still the club scene in that episode, but overall, “Rupture” is far more integral to progressing Westallen’s narrative, and dare I say it, but I much prefer the episode to 2x21 (I did enjoy 2x21, though). There are two main reasons why 2x20 is a standout. The first is, of course, Iris’ confession. While Barry’s confession in 1x09 is devastating due to timing, met with tears and heartbreak on both sides, Iris’ confession is tentative and raw, heartwarming and bittersweet, hopeful and definite. She eases into the confession in a way that contrasts Barry’s urgent, putting-his-heart-on-the-line ILY. She prefaces it with reminding him of what she told him before he went to Earth-2 (and there’s a vulnerability Iris displays that’s only been alluded to in past episodes — Iris did not show jealousy or anger about Barry’s relationship with Patty, but she did wonder whether she (Iris) was still home for Barry when Patty departed), and it spurs those beautiful, relationship-defining words from Iris, “Barry, you’ve always had someone to come home to. Me.” That’s it. That’s all he needs to hear, before suddenly the reality of what she’s saying begins to dawn on him, although he’s still processing when she goes on to say, “Maybe we are meant to be together.” She’s hesitant and vulnerable, and it’s incredibly endearing, and Barry… well he meets her confession with that wordless, bright, almost-in-disbelief smile. The second reason, then, stems directly from this confession. Zoom is terrorizing the city and has kidnapped Caitlin, Cisco and Dante are dealing with the emotional repercussions of Earth-2 Dante’s appearance, while Earth-2 Dante wreaks havoc, and Henry, Harry, and Joe all have very different stances on whether Barry ought to be zapped by Harry’s mini particle accelerator. Barry spent the episode up until this point being indecisive, and all it takes for him to adopt a position is Iris telling him that she wants a future with him, with Barry, and that it does not matter to her whether he’s The Flash. He decides then that he’s not risking his heart and their future for getting zapped. This is huge, because Barry views his speed as being innate to him, to who he is. But Iris, her love for him, his love for her, and the strength with which she imbues in him is so much more a part of him. Barry placing the decision in Iris’ hands in 4x16 as to whether she wants to return Barry’s speed is another callback to this fact.

3x21 “Cause and Effect”: I rank 3x21 amongst the top five, because their relationship is viewed almost entirely from Iris’ point-of-view — Barry, of course, having amnesia. Honestly, I debated ranking 3x01 here, instead, because Barry’s Flashpoint was so Iris-driven and focused and thus epitomizes Westallen’s narrative power, but I guess, I tend to conclude that episodes where Iris’ love for Barry is driving the episode are my favorites. 3x21 is effectively Iris’ mini-Flashpoint. She’s utterly luminous sitting in Jitters, watching Barry smile and joke with her, and laugh and flirt with her. He’s desperately in love with her already, and Iris? Well, Iris is falling in love with him again, and she’s so overwhelmed to see him so light and so happy. She reignites his powers with her kiss in the loft (everybody loves a good lightning rod moment), and she wants to protect his heart and his goodness from all the terrible things that have happened to him. Iris never got to experience Barry having superspeed when he first got it, but 3x21 allows us to see how she would have reacted had she known from the beginning (and highlights yet again how ridiculous and implausible it was to keep her in the dark for the majority of season 1). He’s so excited, speeding around the speed lab, and she’s so happy and excited for him. This is all she’s ever wanted for him: for him to be happy and light and free from the burdens he has been forced to bear. That’s how much she loves him. That’s how selfless her love is. When faced with the predicament on how to spark his memories, Iris draws upon one of their most vital, shared memories: the night Barry came to stay with Iris and Joe after Reverse Flash murdered Nora, and Henry was taken into police custody. She cites that as the night they fell in love, even though she was unaware of the fact then. This never fails to make me emotional; just thinking about these two children who gravitated to each other’s hearts and warmth and fell in love therefore is so pure. And it’s Iris who realizes this fact, and it’s why she can later confidently assert in 3x23 that, “I’ve always been yours. I’ve always been Iris West-Allen.”

4x15, “Enter Flashtime”: This episode highlights the meaning of “We Are The Flash” in relation to Barry and Iris, and it demonstrates that they are basically an unbeatable married duo team who uplift each other with love and support. They, quite literally, save the day together. What I really love about 4x15 is that it explores the duality behind “We Are The Flash,” a concept rooted in the idea that Iris literally and metaphorically powers Barry and that they are a married team, and “We’re also Barry and Iris,” a concept that highlights that these two are best friends in love who are the gold standard. That’s why both are explicitly stated in the opening scene in the speed lab. The Flashtime scene then delves into both concepts. Barry struggles with his last ounce of energy to bring Iris into Flashtime with him, believing that this is it, and wanting nothing more than to spend these last moments in the arms of the love of his life. He’s apologizing repeatedly, and Iris just cradles him to her, telling him that it’s okay and that every moment with him is nice. This is Barry and Iris, at their core. Two people who desperately love each other and ground one another. Barry tells Iris that she is his lightning rod, and that sparks an idea in her, as she remembers the lightning that followed Barry from the speedforce and the quark sphere which holds his genetic DNA that is in the speedforce. Barry picks up on what Iris means immediately, finishing her sentence, and then races off, with renewed strength to save Central City, but not before he passionately kisses her, pouring every ounce of his love for her into that kiss. At the end of the episode, as they lay in each other’s arms, resting after the events of the day, it’s evident that just moments with one another provide the strength for them to move forward, no matter the odds.