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It’s one thing to grab ahold of one another in the games, desperately dragging an ally to cover or jabbing a syringe into their chest in hopes of reviving them. It’s another matter entirely outside the arena.
It’s no secret that Wraith - with an alias as cold as her fingers, as cold as her gaze, as cold as her past - was a troubled soul, though her efforts meant that no one knew in what way this was the case. There were very few she truly trusted, barely enough to even count on one hand, and even they seldom saw the inner workings of her mind.
Among the three she considered herself closest to, Wattson was sweet and possessed a quick mind, but Wraith refused to burden her with personal conversation. Pathfinder was equally sweet, but he was in his own way naive and blunt, and as much as she trusted him as a squadmate, she couldn’t bring herself to share her secrets. Mirage - much to her own surprise - was possibly the one she got along with best, exchanging quips and banter at any given moment. He was more reliable than one would assume, but at the end of the day that’s all their relationship comprised of: quips and banter, and the occasional shared victory.
Still, Natalie and Path’s lives were practically presented on a platter for all to see. Wraith knew their pasts - or lack thereof - better than she knew her own.
It didn’t escape her notice that the same could not be said for Elliott Witt.
Maybe this is why she stops dead in her tracks when a whisper at the back of her mind says she’s not alone. It’s not a warning - she saw Elliott sitting at the roof’s edge before the voice spoke up - but it’s something. Her grip on the door handle tightens. She swallows thickly. Nobody comes here. This was where she went when she needed to be alone. Here the noise of the city and the wind swept away her bustling thoughts. Here she was kept company only by the city’s nightlights. Here she was removed from everything, alone, but still provided with some small reminder that it’s a big world and an even bigger galaxy, and perhaps one day she’ll find her place within it.
Yet there he is, still and quiet, just as his alias describes.
She blinks. Unlike that alias, though, he doesn’t disappear. He’s tangible and he’s truly here.
She’s not sure if it’s she herself or the voices repeating the phrase, telling her she’s not alone, but she can just about feel the burning eyes of a million different timelines urging her to stay.
“You’re underdressed.”
Elliott jolts at the sound of her voice, catching himself before he makes an unwise move that’d send him tumbling. He swivels a bit, still sat on the ground, looking over his shoulder at her with his hand on his chest as he recovers from the heart-attack she essentially just gave him.
“And you’re terrifying,” He responds. “I mean, I don’t scare easy, but was that really necessary?”
Wraith resists the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s cold up here, especially at night,” She states, taking a well distanced seat next to him. “Aren’t you cold?”
He shrugs, the city lights casting shadows that highlight how defined his bare arms are. A coy smile slips onto his face. “What can I say? I’m just that hot.”
Wraith makes no attempt to stop her eye roll this time. “I’m serious, Elliott.”
Elliott hums knowingly. “Mhm, yeah, appletinis and little birdies, very serious.”
She quickly glares at him but finds she has to avert her gaze so to hide the upward quirk of her lips. She has a feeling he noticed, but Elliott makes no mention of it. It’s quiet between them, not uncomfortably so, but she’s still hyperaware of his presence.
He’s looking at you.
Wraith glances at him from the corner of her eye, finding the statement to be true. “What?”
He seems flustered for a moment before answering. “Sorry! Just, uh, you never told us your name. It- it’s kinda strange you know us but we don’t know you.”
Wraith doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know how.
Just like that, the atmosphere turns a little more tense, a little more awkward. Mirage fiddles with his hands, radiating guilt for his intrusive question. Guilt needles at Wraith, too. A part of her wishes she could answer.
“I don’t know,” The confession slips past her lips before she can stop it, eliciting an expression of surprise from Elliott. “I don’t know my name. I think another version of me once did, though.”
Though she understands why the voidwalking Wraith that saved her from the lab risked it all in pursuit of revenge, this timeline’s Wraith still found herself resentful that she never received any true answers before she left.
“Oh,” Elliott’s reaction is, admittedly, not the greatest comfort. “That’s, uh, quite the pracid- predic- that sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you-“ He clears his throat, as if trying to stifle his curiosity. “Do you know why?”
Wraith shrugs as nonchalantly as possible. “I don’t remember anything from before I escaped a lab.” She bites her tongue. She wouldn’t dare divulge more information than that.
Mirage blinks owlishly at her, seemingly startled by this unfortunate backstory. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah.”
Elliott, on the other hand, sighs, averting his gaze, choosing to instead stare at his palms. “For what it’s worth, I know how hard that is,” He swallows thickly. His voice is barely a murmur as he confesses his own blight. “Most days, my own mother doesn’t even remember who I am anymore.”
Wraith stares at him wide-eyed. By definition, a mirage is an optical illusion occurring when a hot surface heats the cool air around it.
For the first time, the warmth she sees is not a grandiose trick of the eye, but rather the flickering flame of a forlorn soul just as lost as herself. For the first time, she truly sees Elliott.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers. Though her situation is not quite the same as his, she recognises the turmoil he faces.
He laughs, albeit forced. “Nah, it- it sucks, it really does, but these things happen, right?” He seems to struggle to get the words out. “I had a dad and three brothers. They, uh, they’re all MIA though - you know how it is, you enlist to protect your home but sometimes it doesn’t go to plan. I’m all Ma has left. She’s all I have left. It just... it hurts.”
“Yeah. Life isn’t fair,” Wraith’s response isn’t one she finds preferable in this scenario, not after such a secret is shared with her, but she can’t find anything to share herself that’d make the exchange of information equivalent. “If it weren’t for the Apex Games, I wouldn’t know where to start finding information about myself.”
“I had a sespi- susitio- I kinda figured you were here for some kinda info,” Elliott hums, a casual reminder that he’s far more than the egocentric Apex Legend that he portrays himself as. “You’re careful with your drops, but when those labs were discovered near the swamps, you immediately went there.”
Wraith blinks at him, yet again caught off-guard by his true colours. He laughs at her expression.
“We agreed with that drop location because we thought it seemed important to you,” He admits, offering a smile. “We’ve been teammates long enough. Path and I trust you.”
Wraith’s mind goes truly silent, unprepared for such honesty and kindness, even from a longtime teammate. She finds herself gaping at the man before her, his words playing on loop in her mind, encouraging her to move in the direction of a better reality, one where she can find the answers she needs alongside people she can trust wholeheartedly.
She freezes at the warmth that covers her hand. It takes a moment for her to recover from the shock, but as Elliott’s fingers entwine with her own, she beings to soften.
Her grip tightens, and he squeezes back in response. The warmth begins to thaw her icy disposition as, for the first time since she escape that lab, she finds she really isn’t alone. There’s someone willing to listen and share the burden.
It’s such a small form of contact - it’s the contact she didn’t know she needed - and she finds herself clinging to it.