Chapter Text
“Hey, kid,” a very familiar voice said from the doorway to her dorm room. Gen looked up excitedly to see Shaw leaning against her doorframe. She seemed different, more tired, but at least she was there.
“Hey, Shaw,” Gen said, hopping off her bed to give her a hug. It was a little weird, now that Gen was taller than her, but Shaw didn’t reject the contact, patting her back until she let go. “What took so long?”
Shaw didn’t respond, her expression shifting for a second to be even more exhausted before she covered it up. Something really must have happened to her to have kept her from visiting.
“Anyways, sorry ‘bout this,” Shaw said, not sounding very sorry at all. But she nudged Gen out of the doorway, and in came mystery man Harold with the dog and a girl who seemed a bit younger than herself.
“You’re why I’m getting a new roommate?” Gen asked, watching the dog jump onto the empty bed at Harold’s gesture, successfully getting out of the way of the duffel bag the girl dropped and shoved under the bed.
“You’ve got a... fuck, I dunno what to call it. You’re both wards of a certain reclusive billionaire. The school was nice enough to put you guys together since you apparently needed a new roommate anyways,” Shaw said, giving Gen a look. “What’d you do to your last roommate anyways?”
“Look, she started it,” Gen said defensively. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Shaw looked impressed, and didn’t push any further.
“Ms. Shaw, if you could get the toolbox?” Harold said, and Shaw disappeared out the door. Gen stared at the little red chest of drawers she brought back, wondering why on earth this mystery kid needed a whole toolbox, yet no suitcase.
The new girl sat down on the bed with the dog, scratching behind the dog’s ears as he sniffed at her. She didn’t look very threatening, her features still round and soft like a child’s despite how old she must have been to be in Gen’s year. Her hair was light brown, though definitely darker than Gen’s own, and curly where it escaped her ponytail.
And her left sweatshirt sleeve was tied in a knot midway down, the end of the sleeve shoved into the pocket. She was missing an arm.
“I owe you a milkshake,” Shaw told her, interrupting her thoughts, “but I’m gonna have to call a rain check. At least until it’s safer to be seen.”
“There is something different,” Gen said victoriously, her suspicions proven. “I thought so; everything seemed just slightly off—”
“Don’t dig into it, kid,” Shaw told her, voice low but urgent.
Gen nodded, a little nervous at how keen Shaw was about the topic. If Shaw had audible feelings on the subject, that meant it was dangerous. “Next time then,” Gen said. “For the milkshakes.”
Shaw gave her a nod. Gen glanced at the other girl again. She was listening to Harold as he spoke to her, sitting on the bed on the other side of the dog.
“You know we won’t be able to be in contact the way we have been,” Harold told her, petting the dog. “You’re outside of the city. But if you have an emergency, don’t hesitate to call.”
The girl nodded, leaning over to hug the dog. Harold smoothed her hair back, and Gen wondered if they were actually related. She hadn’t gotten that much attention from any of them when they’d left her here.
“We’ll be back soon,” Harold said, quieter.
The girl nodded again, letting go of the dog and sitting up. Harold got up off the bed, and the dog followed him as he went to the door.
Shaw approached the girl, and mussed up her hair. “See you around, Skye,” she said simply.
Skye nodded, watching her leave the room blankly. For as much attention as they were giving her, she hardly seemed like she needed it.
“I’m Gen,” Gen said, trying to break the silence that had descended with the click of the shut door. “Shaw saved me a few years ago.”
“You can call me Skye,” the girl responded flatly, barely glancing at her as she laid back on the bed.
“Well, um, I can help you get acquainted with everything here,” Gen said. “Seems fair, since Shaw won’t let me try to pay her back.”
Skye didn’t respond, closing her eyes.
Perhaps she was more affected by being left behind than Gen had thought.
---
It took one day for her to get into a fight. Not even a full day of classes really. Gen had taken Skye to the cafeteria, and it had been going fairly smoothly until the table of rude boys tried to talk to her. Gen usually ignored them, or found a different way around their table, but today they had managed to grab the table front and center to the exit of the food line, and they were looking for fresh meat.
Skye could barely hold the whole tray of food with just one arm, but she’d managed to finagle it onto her arm herself. Gen was already planning to help her put it down on the table to keep her from spilling anything.
“Come sit with us, new girl,” one of the boys said. “Don’t bother with little miss spy.”
Skye looked at them, meeting their gazes with a neutral expression as she examined them. And then she turned away and continued to follow Gen to another table.
Unfortunately, one of the boys got up and followed them.
“You haven’t heard about her yet since you’re new,” the boy said. “But she’s a real nutjob.”
“Sounds like you’re the freak,” Skye said easily, not even bothering to look at him. “Trying to tell me who I can and can’t associate with.” She started to set her tray down at the table beside Gen, and Gen took it from her, letting her get her arm out from under it before she set it down. Skye gave her a nod in thanks.
“What?” the boy sputtered, still standing behind their chairs.
Skye continued to ignore him, putting her bag down beside the chair and pulling the stuffed cat out of it to sit on her lap. Gen still couldn’t figure that out. The girl talked like an adult, yet carried around a stuffed animal like a child. The only thing Gen could assume was that it was a comfort object to combat a trauma.
And the boy grabbed it right off her lap. As far as Gen was concerned, he got exactly what was coming to him.
The bully couldn’t even speak before Skye punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, and Skye continued with her onslaught, slamming the boy’s head into her knee, and when he straightened up to grab his nose, she swung her shin hard in between his legs, and he was down on the ground.
Neatly, Skye grabbed the stuffed cat out of his hand, and she sat back down, shoving the cat into her sweater before starting to eat like nothing had happened. That was when Gen decided she liked her.
Of course, within a couple of seconds teachers came running and the two of them were taken to the principal’s office, but Gen had already decided she was going to have a grand time with this girl.
---
Skye was gone, somewhere else on campus, when Gen got back to the dorm room. Gen wouldn’t admit to herself that she was a little disappointed; she wanted to observe Skye more. While Skye was a rather, subpar student, she was definitely much smarter than she let on, and she was putting together something electronic and a little mysterious on her desk.
Gen turned her attention to what she could investigate then, since Skye didn’t appear to be coming back any time soon. The only personal belonging Skye had left in the room was a tool chest, not including clothing that all appeared to be hand-me downs from Shaw, or at least in imitation of her style. Gen had already tried to go through it, but it was locked. She could’ve jimmied it, or just yanked it open, but she didn’t want to leave any sort of trace on the cheap lock.
So instead, she sat next to it, back against the desk and trying to figure out her next step. She wasn’t going to be out-foxed by a simple lock, that was for sure. Gen had easily gotten any dirt she needed on her classmates, why was this girl so much more difficult?
But they had social lives to observe. Not mentioning the dog, Skye’s social life so far had consisted of Harold, the most mysterious man Gen had ever met, and Shaw, who wasn’t the type to even be a friend in the first place, much less rat out on them. Skye hadn’t bothered to talk to anyone else at the school if she didn’t have to, excluding Gen.
“It’s just tools,” Skye said, standing in the doorway. Her hand was shoved deep in her pocket, backpack on her shoulder.
Gen flinched, scrambling to her feet and dusting herself off. “I wasn’t looking,” she said hurriedly.
“It wouldn’t really matter if you did,” Skye told her, expression flat. “Like I said, it’s just tools.”
Gen stepped away from the toolbox as Skye approached, pulling a necklace with a few keys on it out from under her shirt and over her head. She used one to unlock the chest, appearing perfectly comfortable with the fact she only had one arm to work with.
“Just tools,” Skye said, turning to show Gen what was in the top of the chest. It really was just tools, that part of the toolbox full of different measuring tools and scraps of metal and wire it looked like. But the inside of the lid held something interesting. There were childish drawings taped to it, although they were almost covered by pictures of real birds, and one of two people. When Gen stepped closer, she realized it was Harold, and a much younger Skye, appearing to be wearing a cat themed onesie and still missing her left arm, grinning beside him as she held his hand.
And unlike any other teenager Gen had met, Skye seemed perfectly at ease with these obvious links to her childhood.
“Um, thanks,” Gen said awkwardly. “For showing me.”
Skye shrugged. “If it keeps you from breaking the lock.”
---
“Did you see any nice birds today?” Skye asked, cell phone to her ear. She was sitting beside the railing on the roof, in Gen’s favorite spot to go when she needed time alone to Gen’s slight frustration.
It was really her own fault, Gen had shown her the spot on the roof of the dorm building when she’d shown her around the school, and told her if she needed time alone, no one else came up here. But it was still annoying.
Sighing, Gen went to the other side of the roof, looking out at the parking lot and the sports fields instead of the rather picturesque grass that led down to the lake.
“I saw a swan,” Skye said, her voice almost too quiet to fully discern from where Gen was standing. “On the lake. Gen told me they’re mean though.”
On one hand, Gen should probably respect Skye’s privacy and not listen in to her conversation. But since when had that ever stopped her from eavesdropping? Gen glanced around the roof, trying to find a better spot to listen without letting Skye know she was there or trying to listen.
“The pigeons here aren’t the same. They scare easy and also the teachers don’t let me feed them. They say they’re pests. ‘Rats with wings.’ So I have to find somewhere else to feed them.”
Gen settled on leaning against the railing a little ways away from Skye and just pretending she couldn’t hear her. It usually worked.
Skye glanced at her, her expression telling Gen her little ruse hadn’t fooled her in the least. But Skye didn’t move further away, nor did she call Gen on it.
“I want to come home,” Skye said quietly, leaning her head against the railing support. “When can I come home?”
She closed her eyes at whatever response she was getting, appearing to already know the answer she was getting and not liking it.
“Yeah,” Skye said. “I guess... I’ll try to take some pictures of the pigeons to send you. They might not be very good since I only have one hand.”
Whoever she was talking to her kept talking for a bit, and Gen stared out at the lake, watching the swans terrorize whoever had gone too close to their territory this time. Maybe sometime she should hunt down where Skye was sneaking off to feed the birds; it would probably give her more clues into who Skye was.
A few days later, Gen found her sitting behind the tennis courts and scattering seed she must have gotten from the nearby town, since nowhere in the school would they have that sort of thing. The pigeons loved it, not even squabbling with each other to get to the seed there was so much scattered, and Skye had her phone out, holding it on her knees as she tried to take pictures.
Gen sat down next to Skye on the bench, wondering how she could even start a conversation with her.
“They’re not pests,” Skye said. “I mean, they can be. But it’s the same as feral cats and dogs. Humans left them here.”
“Really?” Gen really didn’t know much about pigeons, other than they tended to leave messes where flocks of them hung out.
“Humans used to use them to send messages. All the time. But then technology advanced, and the people forgot about them. They’re not a native species.”
That made sense. Gen had just never thought about it before. “Why are you feeding them then?” Gen asked. “If they’re an invasive species shouldn’t we get rid of them?”
Skye shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted them to know kindness, since no one else here likes them.”
Gen snorted. “Funny, coming from the girl who will fight anyone who asks for it.”
“Those kids already know kindness, too much kindness. They don’t deserve mine.” Skye spread out some more seed, the birds starting to squabble with each other.
That was one way to put it. And Gen couldn’t argue with that.
---
Gen found Skye in their room with all the missing towels the other girls on their floor were complaining about, blood down her side and metal in her shoulder. Gen had never seen her shoulder bare before, but it looked like attaching whatever the metal thing was had done the damage.
“You gonna tell,” Skye asked, voice fairly even considering the amount of blood she had to have lost.
“No,” Gen told her, hurriedly kneeling down to wrap one of the towels around her shoulder. Her hands were shaking, but all she needed to do was tie the towel tight around the wound, right?
Skye shut her eyes, wincing as Gen put pressure on her shoulder to tie the towel as tightly as she could.
“You gonna tell me what this is,” Gen asked, trying to match Skye’s neutral tone.
“’M making a new arm. Old one failed,” Skye told her. “Attachment’s a bit bloody.”
“And permanent,” Gen said, using another towel to try and wipe the blood off Skye’s side.
“No, not permanent,” Skye said. “But no fun to get off.”
Gen made a face, putting down the stained towel. “I don’t need to think about that.”
Skye looked at her, her gaze a little foggy probably from pain, but she seemed clearheaded enough. “Were you worried?”
“Yeah,” Gen said, disturbed that Skye hadn’t realized. “My friend’s sitting on the floor, bloody, wouldn’t you be worried?”
Skye stared at her blankly.
“Never mind. I guess we’re not friends,” Gen said, standing up.
Skye looked confused, and then her head tipped back onto the bed behind her as she passed out, to Gen’s complete surprise. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, but Skye had seemed so cogent that she hadn’t even thought to consider the fact she could pass out due to blood loss.
---
“Okay,” Gen said, trying to understand what Skye had already told her. “But it’s like... just over half-way through the semester. Wait, you haven’t even been here for half a semester—”
“What’s it matter,” Skye said, putting her clothes back into the duffel bag she’d come with. “It’s not like they’re teaching me anything here.”
“It’s not like you’re trying to learn either,” Gen said, getting a little frustrated at Skye’s attitude. “You have to put effort in to get rewarded.”
“You misunderstand,” Skye said, pausing her packing to look at Gen. “I already know what they’re trying to tell me. I was only here because I couldn’t stay with Harold without raising suspicion. The threat’s gone now so I can go home.”
“What threat?” Gen asked, crossing her arms. Talking to Skye only got more frustrating as time went on apparently.
Skye shrugged, and started putting clothes in her bag again. She really didn’t have much, since the bag was barely full by the time she finished, and she pulled the strap on over her head. Her toolbox had already been put in a box a few days ago, taken away to be shipped somewhere.
“See you around,” she said, sounding a lot like Shaw actually, and she left.