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One: The Captain
Clover slammed the front door behind him, hurling his backpack on the ground and running up the stairs to his room. Halfway up, his mother’s voice stopped him short.
“Clover Ebi, what on Remnant has gotten into you?”
Clover froze, realizing with dread that he’d been caught.
“M-ma? I t-thought you had a mission?”
He couldn’t face her. Not like this.
“Postponed, from bad weather,” his mother said. Her tone softened. From Captain Ebi of the Atlas Military, to Amaranth Ebi, mother. “Clover, what’s the matter? Can you look at me, sweetheart?”
He slowly turned. His mother stood at the base of the stairs, looking worried. When she saw his red face and puffy eyes, she held her arms out.
“Oh, dear. Come here, my sweet Clover,” Ma said.
Reluctantly, Clover descended the stairs. Ma led him into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. He sniffled as she sat down next to him, brushing his unruly hair back.
“Now,” she said, brushing a few tears from his cheeks. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he lied, studying the carpet. He wasn’t gonna be a baby about this. He was ten years old.
“That’s plainly not the case,” she replied. “Clover, you know you can tell me anything.”
Clover sniffled, twiddling his thumbs. “Nobody at school likes me. They just make fun of me and tell me I’m annoying.”
His mother frowned. “And who exactly is ‘everybody?’”
“Ma…” he whined. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this.
“Was it about your semblance?” she asked.
Of course, she was right.
Clover sniffled once, twice. His lip wobbled dangerously, and then he burst into tears.
“Oh, Clover…” his mother said, pulling him in. He buried himself in her embrace, the safe circle of her arms. Through bone-shaking sobs, the story came out.
“T-today was the festival, for…for the new year,” he managed. He’d been so excited. His mother had sent him with extra pocket money, for snacks and games.
“A-and every…everyone w-wanted t-to hang out with me. B-but they just…just wanted me to help them win prizes, and I…”
Another heaving sob. “I…I c-couldn’t do it. I tried, but I couldn’t get it to work.”
“Oh, Clover…” his mother said, again. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but children can be cruel, sometimes.”
That was all he could get out for a while. He clung to his mother, embarrassed and ashamed. Just the thought of all those mocking faces, increasingly disgusted with him as his luck flew wild for the tenth time. How stupidly happy he’d been when all the popular kids suddenly got so interested in him. How bored they all looked as he babbled on about the books he was reading and the missions his mom went on and the cool weapon his cousin was making in combat school.
And then maybe the worst part.
“Oh,” he said, his tears slowing down. “You have to sign something.”
He trudged over to his backpack, pulling it over. Still sniffling, he dug out the warning slip Mr. Avalon gave him for cheating. His mother studied it, her expression going hard.
“…are you mad?” he asked, riddled with anxiety. “Am I grounded?”
His mother pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m furious, but not at you. You did nothing wrong, my sweet boy.”
She clasped his shoulder, pulling back. “Wait right here, Clover. I need to call your teacher. Like hell I’m signing this.”
“Ma, don’t…”
“This is unacceptable,” she countered. Well. There was Captain Ebi. Clover slumped into the lumpy couch, as his mother chewed out his teacher in the other room. It would be even worse, now.
Dinner was a tense affair, but that was normal.
“John,” his mother said, cutting into her pork chop like she was slicing a Centinel in half, “This is the last straw, we are pulling him out of that school.”
His father sighed. “Not this, again. That school was perfectly fine when I was a child, and there’s no reason Clover can’t do just as well there.”
“Oh really?” his mother countered. “Were you aware that your son’s teacher tried to give him a disciplinary warning for using his semblance? Which he was goaded into using by the other children?”
Clover wanted to sink into the floor.
“He has the grades to go anywhere in Atlas,” his mother continued, stabbing a mushroom. “We can afford the tuition.”
“Or he can go to the free school five blocks away,” his father said. “Instead of sending him halfway across the city to go to some fancy private school. You’re the one who’s always fussing over him being alone all afternoon.”
“It would be worth it if the teachers are even marginally better than that pathetic little man. He has done nothing about the bullying.”
Clover’s face flushed, and he ducked his head in shame.
Colonel Ebi turned to Clover. “Son, the only way to deal with people like that is to show them you’re not afraid.”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled. Clover only wished he knew how.
“Or we could put him in a better school,” Ma said.
His father shook his head, stern and unmovable. “Amaranth, you baby him. He’s never going to be able to stand on his own at this rate.”
“He’s not thirty, John, he’s ten. He’s still a child.”
“And he always will be if you keep treating him like one. Is that what you want, after everything we worked for?”
“I thought we were working so that our son could have a better life than we did. Or are you so obsessed with your own career that you’ve forgotten that?”
His father scoffed. “Oh, you sound just like Roy.”
“At least your brother lets his kids be kids, instead of tiny soldiers.”
“May I be excused?” Clover said. He’d only eaten half his dinner, but he really wasn’t hungry anymore. Once the conversation moved to this stage there was no point in him being there, anyway. “I have to finish my homework.”
His father gave him a sharp look. “Clover, we don’t waste food in this family.”
“Honestly, John, what are you going to do, force-feed him?” his mother said. She turned to Clover, giving him a tight smile and brushing his hair back. “Of course, sweetheart. Go on upstairs. Do you want me to come check your math when you’re done?”
Clover bit his lip. He probably shouldn’t. “No, I…I can do it myself.”
If he thought his mother looked sad at that, he buried it away. Instead she just gave his head a final pat. “Okay, sweetie. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Ma,” he said, hopping up from the table. His father looked disappointed in him.
Clover took his plate into the kitchen, scraping it as quickly as possible, before retreating to his room. As he scampered up the stairs, he heard his father say, ‘This is exactly what I’m talking about…’
Sitting up in his room, the faint sound of his parents’ argument floating up the stairs, Clover resolved to be better. Maybe if he was very quiet, and very good, and very strong, his parents wouldn’t fight so much.
He just had to be better. Then people would like him.
Two: The Colonel
Clover was fifteen. Not a child. Old enough to learn to fight. Old enough to forge a weapon. Old enough, his father said, to stand up and act like a man.
Not a stupid little boy who cried over his mother all the time.
He scrubbed at his eyes, angry at himself when the tears wouldn’t stop. It had been six months, he should be over this by now. He should be doing about a million other things. He needed to study, he needed to clean his room, he needed to train. And instead he’d spent the whole afternoon curled up in the window seat sobbing because he missed his mommy.
There was a sharp rap at the door and Clover froze, stricken. His father’s stern voice boomed through the hallway.
“Clover? Dinner’s ready.”
Clover held his breath. Stop it, Clover. Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying.
Another knock. “Son, answer me. You’re not sleeping in the middle of the damn day again, are you?”
“I…I’m awake, sir. Sorry,” he said, trying to will his voice to ring out even. “I’m just not feeling well. I…I’ll eat later, if that’s okay.”
A brief pause. Please, let him buy it. Clover tried to make a wish, but it just brought up memories. Bright teal eyes, soft laughter, warm hugs that made him feel so safe. He choked back another sob, desperately muffling the sound with his shirt. His mother’s lucky pin was clutched in his closed fist.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you were fine just this morning,” his father said, through the door. The doorknob rattled.
Oh gods, he was in for an earful now.
“Clover Ebi, open this door at once.”
Clover wiped his eyes as best as he could, taking a few shaky breaths to calm himself. It barely mattered, it would be obvious what he’d been doing in here. His father would probably be less disappointed if he was just jerking off.
He stood, straightening his clothes as best as he could. Reluctantly, he crossed the room and unlocked the door.
The Colonel’s face was everything he expected. A deep frown, only deepening as he took in his son’s appearance.
“Honestly, Clover. Not this again.”
A few more traitorous tears fell, and he wiped them with his sleeve, sniffling. “I-I just…I heard her favorite song, on the radio.”
The one she used to sing to him. Sweet and lilting and joyful. There was a flicker of something soft in his father’s eyes, and then in an instant it was gone. He sighed.
“I don’t suppose you did any of your chores today, did you?”
Clover shook his head, miserably.
Another sigh.
“You need to keep working, Clover,” his father said. “If you just applied yourself then you wouldn’t have time for all this. In any case, the world won’t stop turning just because you have the sniffles. You think this kind of behavior is going to fly with your CO, once you’re in the military?”
He shook his head, again, eyes on the floor. “No, sir.”
The Colonel cleared his throat. “Well. I suppose you can do your chores after dinner. Just…clean yourself up and come on downstairs.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clover let out a breath, at his father’s retreating footsteps. The Colonel was right. He just…he needed to stay busy. Keep moving. That’s what Ma would want.
Reluctantly, he placed the pin on the nightstand and went to wash up for dinner.
Three: The Crush
“Heeeyyyyy, there’s my Luck Bug! Everyone’s looking for y—oh, shit!”
Clover jumped, nearly slipping in the shower as his teammate came up behind him. He scrubbed at his face, pasting on an easy smile before glancing over his shoulder.
“Fuck, Nico, can’t a guy take a shower in peace? If you wanted to see my ass so bad all you had to do was ask.”
“Seen it, and more,” Nico said, leaning in the doorway. “You’re not subtle in your escapades. What’s wrong, Lucky? You were crying.”
Clover ducked his head, turning into the spray of the shower. Stupid of him to think he’d have some privacy here. Last singles match of the day, and his…competitor was a girl. The guys’ locker room at Amity seemed like as good a place as any to have a minor breakdown.
“What are you talking about? I was not crying.”
“Your face is all red.”
“I just got my ass beat, if you recall,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.
And then Nico was right there, up in his space. Stepping under the spray of the shower fully clothed, while Clover was…not. If his face wasn’t red before, it definitely would be now. Clover wasn’t shy about his body, but this…well. This was Nico.
Nico reached out, tilting Clover’s chin toward him. “Hmm. Eyes red and puffy. Nose…snotty. You were crying, Luck Bug. Why? It was a good match.”
“I know,” Clover said, wrenching his face from Nico’s gentle grip. “She was really talented. I’m not mad, honestly. Just a little tired.”
“Is this about your dad?”
Clover sucked in a breath.
Nico smirked. “Bullseye, I take it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”
“What can I say?” Nico said, pushing his wet hair from his eyes. “My aim is true, when you’re around. Talk to me, Lucky.”
Clover sighed. It wasn’t fair that he looked so hot, when anyone else in Nico’s position would look like a wet rat. “I just…I can’t believe he came all the way to Mistral just to watch me lose.”
“You did not lose,” Nico said. “You made it to the semifinals. That’s better than your cousin did.”
“Cedar’s already a Lieutenant. And Faye made it to the finals,” Clover pointed out. Once again, his older cousins outshone him without even trying.
“And then she lost!” Nico said, snorting. “Which, if you ask me, coming in second is way worse. And besides, who cares what your dad thinks?”
Clover studied the shower tiles intently, his jaw tight.
He heard Nico laugh, softly. And then there was a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the wall. Clover gasped as his back hit the cool tile. Nico’s body pressed against him, blazing hot even through his clothes. Clover was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that he was naked and soaking wet. Gold eyes met his, playful and challenging.
And then he leaned in, and Nico’s soft lips touched his, and Clover just about died. He melted into the kiss, bringing his hands up to grip at his teammate’s trim waist. He let out a soft moan as Nico pressed impossibly closer, urging his mouth open with his tongue. When Nico reached down, a calloused hand grasping his ass in a firm grip, Clover’s brain shut down.
They had been dancing around each other for so long; two flirts flirting on a flirty team. But Clover always assumed Nico was just playing around. He certainly never seemed to get jealous when Clover fooled around with other guys. He’d been wingman on more than one occasion. It was the end of their third year; he figured if nothing happened by now, it wasn’t ever going to.
“Nico,” he gasped, finally coming up for air. “I…you…you just…”
Nico laughed, again. “Come on, Luck Bug. Let me help you cheer up, and then we’ll hit the town. A guy like you is way too pretty to cry.”
Four: The Cousins
“You…you’re breaking up with me?”
Nico gave a little huff of laughter, placing his hand on Clover’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t call it breaking up. Come on, Lucky. We both know what this was about. Let’s just be happy for the times we had, okay?”
“Of course,” Clover said, trying to cover up his heartbreak. Nico squeezed his shoulder, giving him a parting smile.
“Take it easy, okay Luck Bug? I’ll see you around.”
And then he left.
Clover stood there in shock, unable to process everything that had just happened. How could Nico just leave like that, after everything they’d been through? Did it really mean nothing? How could he just drop Clover, when Clover had only ever tried to give him everything he wanted?
Yola found him, later. He’d been fighting tears for at least two hours. “Hey, Lucky. I just heard from Neve. How you doing?”
Great, of course his whole team knew what a pathetic loser he was. Neve had probably known he was gonna get dumped this whole time. The twins weren’t much alike, but they knew each other.
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice shaky. Fighting off the thrum of rejection, a constant drumbeat in the back of his head. Not good enough. Too needy. Too much.
“I mean, it was just…just fun. For both of us. He’s right, it wouldn’t have worked long-distance anyway. I’ll be good.”
“You sure?” Yola asked. “It just…I was surprised, is all.”
Clover was not sure. His heart was absolutely broken. Everything he felt, he hated. He’d thought Nico would be the one, the only. And now he felt like a…like an idiot. Of course, nobody found love with their Academy boyfriend. Best friend. Friend and teammate who you were in love with and slept with but who didn’t think of you as anything more than that.
“Of course,” he said, smiling weakly. “Everything’s great.”
“You sure?” she repeated.
“You know me,” Clover said, as if that meant anything. He tried to smile. People didn’t like him when he was sad. They found it obnoxious. Not that they were guaranteed to like him when he was happy, either. He’d just had a harsh reminder of that.
“I’ll be okay.”
He would…he’d be okay. He wouldn’t cry about this. Nico definitely wasn’t crying.
Clover finally slept with that hot guy from Team LMNT, as if that would scrub the heartbreak from his skin. It didn’t. The sex wasn’t even that good. And the guy turned out to be kind of a jerk, who bragged about it to all his friends. Easy Ebi strikes again, just when the nickname had finally started to fade.
It was only on leave, before starting up his military career, that he finally broke down. Reunited with his cousins in Argus, cocooned away from gossip and the chaos of graduation. In a place where he could finally be himself, with an ocean between him and his father’s disapproving face.
So of course he ruined everyone’s vacation by crying his eyes out.
“I…I thought he loved me,” he said, sniffling, as Faye rubbed his shoulders. He was lying on the couch in the den of his Aunt and Uncle’s house, weeping like the stupid baby he was. Cedar paced the room, fists clenched. “I…I get it if he doesn’t want to join the military with me, but he didn’t even seem sad about it.”
“Oh, he’s gonna be sad when I punch his stupid face in,” Cedar muttered. Val, Cedar’s girlfriend, watched the display with a look of concern. Clover felt bad that she had to witness all his bullshit. The med student already had to put up with all their Huntsman and Huntress shop talk. Now she had to hear about his boy problems, too.
“H-he’s already in Vacuo,” Clover sobbed. “He didn’t even want to stay on the same continent as me.”
“In that case, he’s gonna be sad when I punch his stupid face in,” Faye said. She patted his head. “Or I could shove my axe up his dickhole, would that help?”
It would not help.
“I don’t want you to hurt him, I love him,” Clover said. “Maybe…maybe he just needs some space for a bit? He said we could still be friends.”
Clover had probably just…come on too strong. Everyone always said he did. Nico himself had coined the term: Full Clover. It’s why he’d…he’d tried keeping a lid on it, with Nico. He tried so hard, but it must not have been enough.
Cedar threw up his hands. “He just wants to be able to sleep with you whenever he’s in town! Shrimp, I hate to say it but I have never liked that fucking kid. If that little twerp had tried this shit when I was still at the Academy I would have ended his actual life, and he knew it.”
That just made him feel dumber. He sobbed into the couch cushions, miserable.
“Oh, for the love of—neither of you are helping!” Val finally snapped, unable to restrain herself from the family drama unfolding before her. “Clo just had his heart broken. He needs support, not judgement.”
Cedar and Faye froze, shocked into silence. Val shooed Faye from her perch on the arm of the couch, taking her spot.
“Men are just idiots,” she said. “Big, dumb idiots. Even the cute ones.”
That pulled a little laugh out of him, through the tears. Val smiled. “He might come around eventually, Clo, but you don’t have any obligation to take him back. He already blew any claim he has.”
“But I love him,” Clover whined, pathetic.
“I know,” Val said, stroking her fingers through his hair. He wished desperately for his mother. Which only made him cry harder. Which only made him more anxious that his father would find out that he was crying over a boy.
“You guys…you guys won’t tell the Colonel about Nico, will you? Or that…that I cried?”
His cousins exchanged glances.
“Of course not, Shrimp,” Cedar said, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey, how ’bout we go hang out at the pier for a bit? Bust out the fishing poles, just like old times?”
“The fishing off the pier sucks,” Faye said. Cedar elbowed her. “Uhhh, but that could be fun, sure. Hey, I’ve been living in the desert, you probably know more than me at this point, huh Shrimp?”
“You don’t have to patronize me, I know I’m no fun,” Clover said, wiping the last of the tears away. He stared up at the ceiling. “You guys don’t have to stay here if you want to go out. I’m just gonna watch a movie or something.”
If they would just leave, so he could be miserable in peace. But no, there was no privacy in this house, and no secrets he could keep from his cousins.
“Well I need to cram some studying in,” Val said, settling in on the floor next to the couch and dragging her bookbag over. “Some of us still have a lot of school left. Cedar, can you make us some snacks?”
She batted her eyelashes at Cedar, and his cousin all but stood at attention.
“Yeah, babe, of course! Anything you want. Happy to, uh…happy to do it.”
Cedar dashed to the kitchen, a dopey grin on his face. Clover had to smile at it; the guy was totally whipped. Gods, at least someone should get to be happy. He felt a little resentful, then immediately guilty, the smile fading slowly.
“Budge over, Shrimp,” Faye said. She shoved his feet, pushing him until she could worm her way onto the other side of the couch, then draped her legs over his. She whipped out her scroll, using it to pull up a video display as she flicked through movie titles. “If I’m gonna hang out with you nerds on a perfectly nice summer day, then I’m picking the movie. You always pick boring old shit.”
“Faye, you really don’t have to,” Clover insisted. “I know you wanna see your friends.”
She poked him with her foot. “Yeah, well you’re my friend too,” she grumbled. “And more important, you’re family.”
Cedar came back in a few minutes later with an absolutely enormous bowl of popcorn, a package of red licorice, and four sodas tucked into various parts of his person. He handed the popcorn to Val, who took a handful before passing it up. Faye snorted as her brother retrieved a soda from his pants pocket.
“Just make two trips, Ce, I swear to the Brothers you are so lazy.”
“I just brought you food,” Cedar shot back, tossing the candy to Clover. He scrambled to catch it, not expecting the delivery. “Are you two just gonna take up the whole couch, or what?”
“Yes,” Faye said, placing the bowl of popcorn between them in prime grabbing distance.
Val patted the floor next to her. “Don’t you want to come cuddle down here with me?”
Cedar flushed red. “O-oh! Uh, of course.”
He joined her on the floor, leaning against the back of the couch while Val settled between his legs. She draped his arms around her before turning back to her textbook. Faye caught Clover’s eye, mouthing ‘straight people’ and miming a gag. Clover suppressed a giggle.
“I can hear you making faces,” Cedar said. Faye took a handful of popcorn and threw it at the back of his head. Cedar squawked in protest.
Clover sat up a bit. His flagging appetite was finally making its presence known, and he dug into the packet of licorice. Faye settled on an action flick, one he hadn’t actually seen before.
And that was that. One movie turned to two, which turned to a whole marathon. Val gave up on studying after the second movie, complaining that they talked too much. Night fell. The movies went from action to horror. Then the snacks turned to pizza and the soda turned to beer and Cedar complained about always having to be the one to get up and get stuff and Faye complained that she couldn’t get comfortable because Clover kept wiggling like a fish. By the time his Aunt and Uncle came home, all four of them were on the floor in a tangle of limbs, blankets and pillows and couch cushions strewn everywhere in a tipsy fort.
Clover’s heart still ached, but at least these people loved him.
“Hey, um…thanks, guys,” he said, as the opening titles played on a cheesy zombie flick. His voice still felt a bit wobbly, and he was lightheaded and sappy from the alcohol. “You, uh…you really didn’t have to do all this."
Faye kicked him in the kidney. “Shut it, Shrimp, the movie’s starting.”
Five: The Team
Clover always thought he had a decent tolerance for pain. Roughhousing with his cousins, falling out of a tree, getting his butt kicked during training. The usual childhood scrapes, and he’d always been able to walk it off and keep going. And then as a Huntsman, even Clover was not immune to Grimm. He’d had his fair share of career-related injuries over the years.
This was a whole other ballgame.
“Yep, that’s dislocated,” Harriet said. She pressed on his back, and Clover nearly wept.
“Oh, you think?” he managed, through gritted teeth. His right arm hung limp in his makeshift sling, fire shooting under his skin if he so much as jostled it. As least it wasn’t his dominant arm.
Clover had a basic knowledge of field medicine. He knew there was no point in engaging his aura until the joint could be popped back into place. Which he was ashamed to admit he did not trust Harriet to do.
The truck hit a particularly large bump in the frozen road, and Clover whimpered. Marrow’s voice rang out, from the driver’s seat.
“Sorry, boss!”
He’d gotten lucky, to be honest. He should have at least broken something from that fall, not to mention getting impaled on the jagged rocks like the Sabyr that had tumbled over the ledge after him. Instead, his shoulder took the brunt of the impact. Just the thought of the sickening pop made him a little queasy. The climb back up the slope had been…unpleasant.
But a dislocation was far from the worst of injuries. Not even worth calling in a medical airship. It was just that now it was a long, long drive back to Mantle. In excruciating pain.
“Try not to move it so much,” Harriet said helpfully.
“I’ll try that,” he said.
Clover felt bad for being so short with her, but this was torture. These roads were rough on a good day. Now it felt like every rock, every clump of ice they hit sent a hot poker through his shoulder. The painkillers from the med kit were doing nothing.
Case in point. The truck lurched as they hit a massive pothole, and Clover bit his lip bloody trying to hold in his scream. He was sweating, breath coming in ragged gasps, as Harriet looked on with an increasingly concerned expression.
“Sorry!” Marrow called, again. Clover was giving him some gods-damned driving lessons, once he got patched up.
“Long way back,” Harriet noted. Clover grunted in acknowledgement.
“You…sure you don’t want me to…?”
“It’s fine,” he muttered, giving her a weak smile. She would probably rip his arm off.
Harriet rolled her eyes. “Boss, you don’t have to act so tough all the time.”
That was rich, coming from Harriet. The Huntress went out of her way to show just how weak she was not. Gods, he should have taken Elm and Vine on this mission instead. The teasing from Elm would all be worth it if he had Vine’s steady hands here to put him out of his misery.
Truth told, he was considering asking Harriet to just knock him out.
“Hare, it’s really fine,” he assured her. The last thing he needed was his team thinking he was weak. How could they possibly follow his orders, follow him into danger and possible death, if he acted like some kind of…of…
“There’s no shame in it,” Harriet said, quietly. He barely even heard her.
Clover blinked. “Excuse me?”
“In asking for help,” Harriet said, meeting his eyes. “Look. It’s hard for me too, okay? But you’re only hurting yourself. Just…let me set your stupid shoulder. I’m sick of hearing you whine like a bear with its paw caught in a trap.”
It was shockingly insubordinate, and Clover was stunned into silence for a moment. But then the truck hit another bump and he cried out, the noise ripped from his throat.
Harriet raised an eyebrow. He nodded, barely, wincing at the motion in his neck.
“Stop the truck for a sec!” Harriet yelled.
Marrow slammed on the brakes, and Clover nearly toppled over. He wrenched his arm trying to stabilize himself, drawing another inadvertent whimper from his mouth.
“Uhhhhh…everything okay?” Marrow asked, glancing over his shoulder. Clover suppressed a smartass remark. Marrow was trying his best.
Seriously though, driving lessons. Chalk it up to the shreds of his aura that they hadn’t spun out, or had a flat tire.
Harriet stood, moving to his side. “Might not want to watch this, rookie. It’s not gonna be pretty.”
With blessed efficiency, Harriet guided him into lying down on the floor of the truck bed. With slow, excruciating motion, she had him extend his arm out, then braced her feet on his torso.
“Try to relax,” Harriet said, gripping his forearm.
Easier said than done. He took a few deep breaths. Oh gods, what if this was it. His career-ending injury. The one he couldn’t come back from. He needed that shoulder, his fighting style depended on it.
“On three,” Harriet said. “One…two…”
She pulled on his arm, firm but decisive, and he yelped. There was a flare of awful pain, another sickening lurch of bones shifting, and then with a loud pop his joint fell into its proper place. Clover laid there, panting, tears squeezing out the corners of his eyes.
When he had his breath back the worst of the pain had faded, thank the Brothers.
“All right, boss?”
“You didn’t say three,” Clover said. He felt lightheaded.
Harriet helped him sit up, and re-secured the sling around his arm. “Didn’t want you to tense up. It would have been way worse if you had.”
“Harriet? Did you kill the Captain?” Marrow asked, cautious. He had his hands over his eyes. Clover also needed to talk to him about staying alert in hostile territory, when your Captain and combat partner were otherwise engaged in physical rehabilitation/torture.
“I’m fine, Marrow,” Clover said, his voice shaky. “Just get us back to the city, okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
As the truck started moving, he studied Harriet. After settling him in place, she resumed her watch out the back of the truck. Politely avoiding looking at him. Clover wiped his face with his gloved left hand, leaning against the side of the truck.
“Thanks, Hare,” he said, smiling softly. He shouldn’t have underestimated her. Chalk one up to experience.
“Yeah, well,” she said, a bit awkward now that the moment had passed. “We’re a team. I trust you to have my back.”
Clover closed his eyes. “I might pass out for a little bit, if you wouldn’t mind watching mine?”
Harriet snorted. “Got it, boss.”
+ 1: The Farmboy
Clover couldn’t sleep.
He really should. It had been a long day. The mission at the Amity site had been exhausting, wave after of wave of Grimm drawn to the ever-growing concentration of dust and the jumpy science team. And then endless paperwork, reports and schedules and follow-ups that made his eyes hurt from looking at things.
But when he tried to chase sleep it escaped him, leaving him tossing and turning. His brain kept him up, thinking about all the things he needed to do tomorrow, and the order in which he should do them in order to maximize efficiency. Finally, Clover gave up, getting dressed in a huff and heading to one of the training rooms.
If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least be productive about it.
This part of the Academy was quiet, students retired for the night and any soldiers working the night shift too busy to wander the halls. Clover liked being out at night; it meant he got the run of the place.
So when he found the main training room occupied, it was a surprise. Even more, that the occupant was little Oscar Pine.
Who was crying.
“Oscar?”
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to his feet. He scrubbed at his face, wiping the tears away and blushing furiously. A part of Clover wondered if he should have just walked away. Pretended he hadn’t seen anything. But there was something so familiar about the young man. The heavy weight of duty on those narrow shoulders.
It reminded him of himself, at that age.
“C-Captain Ebi!” Oscar said, flustered. “I…I didn’t think anyone would be here so late.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Clover said, genuinely apologetic. He approached, slowly, like he would a wounded animal. “And please, just Clover. But since I’m here…is everything all right?”
“I…” Oscar hesitated. His eyes were watery.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Clover said, hands out at his sides. “But I find it often helps.”
Oscar sighed, slumping down against the wall. He slid down, into the sitting position he’d been in when Clover entered. Clover joined him there, sitting close enough for the boy to reach but hopefully not so close that Clover would intimidate him. He was friendly with Oscar, and James had certainly taken him under his wing. But the two of them didn’t interact much, one-on-one.
So Oscar must have been very lonely, or very naïve, to open up the way he did.
Or maybe Clover was projecting on both counts.
“I couldn’t sleep. I…I was just thinking about my aunt,” Oscar mumbled, fiddling with his cane. A few tears fell from his hazel eyes, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “She raised me, on her farm. I haven’t talked to her since I left for Haven with Ozpin. And I…I know she’s probably fine, and I’m glad she’s safe there and not here, but I…I just miss her.”
Oscar sighed, leaning against the wall. “I thought I might train for a bit, but it…it’s not the same, without Ozpin.”
He sniffled, and Clover’s heart melted. Gods, he…how old was he, again? Fourteen? And with an immortal wizard in his head that expected him to save the world?
Clover had never met Ozpin; Beacon had already fallen by the time James brought them in on the maidens and relics. And James spoke highly of him, he really did. But the fact that the man’s plans depended on a child to take up his ancient war made Clover incredibly uncomfortable.
Oscar wiped his face again, with a frustrated huff. “Ugh, I should…you don’t have to listen to this. I know it’s dumb, with the relics and Salem and everything going on.”
“Oscar,” he said, gently. “It’s not dumb. It’s perfectly normal to miss the people we love. I sure do.”
Oscar blinked up at him, eyes wide. “You do?”
Clover nodded. “My cousins, for one. My niece and nephew. I miss them all terribly. And…my mother. She died when I was about your age.”
Clover took a deep breath, and tried to think of what he would have wanted someone to tell him, way back then. Do as I say, not as I do, he thought.
“I…I still cry about her, sometimes. That’s how much I miss her.”
Something in him released, at the admission. An old hurt. But he couldn’t just sit here and pretend to this child that he was somehow above it all. That he never just broke down and cried, at the unfairness of it all.
Clover held out his hand, palm up.
Oscar launched himself into Clover’s arms.
He let out a soft ‘oof,’ at the impact, but quickly recovered. He wrapped Oscar in a hug, holding him as he sobbed. Whispering reassurances, the way his mother did when he was young. Brushing his fingers through soft brown hair. Projecting safety. There seemed to be something more than just homesickness weighing on the young man’s mind. Clover could only imagine.
Sometimes it was easier, to open up to a relative stranger. Clover supposed that went both ways.
An hour later, having plied an exhausted and slightly embarrassed Oscar with milk and cookies stolen from the mess hall, Clover wandered back to his apartment. It was truly late now. Well after midnight. Except as he neared the Specialists’ wing of the base, he felt even more restless than before. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t much want to train. He could bake something, he supposed. The kids should have something homemade. He wanted to spoil them as much as he wanted to teach them. Do as I say, not as I do.
Later. Clover kept walking. He let his feet take him where they wanted, aimless.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that they led him the General’s office.
Even less so, that the light was still on.
Clover shook his head, tapping the chime at the door. Seconds later, the doors swung open. James was sitting at his desk, deep bags under his eyes as he blearily looked up from a report.
“Clover,” he said, surprised. “What…what are you doing here so late?”
“I could say the same thing to you,” he replied. “Couldn’t sleep, is all.”
James chuckled. “I think I have the opposite problem. I keep nodding off, but there’s still so much to do.”
This, at least, he could help with.
Clover held out his hand. “Come lie down, James.”
“Clover, I…”
“Please,” he said, whisper-soft.
James’s expression softened. He stood, taking Clover’s hand, and he led the other man over to the sofa. Wordlessly, he unbuttoned James’s greatcoat, removing it and draping it over the back of the couch.
“Now, when you said lie down,” James murmured, his gaze growing heated. “You meant…”
“I meant lie down and sleep, you overworked, oversexed, helpless mess of a man,” Clover tutted. He pushed James down onto the sofa, then knelt to remove his boots.
“That position isn’t helping your case, darling,” James said, watching him on his knees. Clover laughed, tugging off one boot, then the next. It was tempting, because James was always tempting, but he was feeling a bit too melancholy at the moment.
“Maybe later,” he said, the hint of a promise. Clover tugged off his own shoes and pressed James into the cushions, crawling on top of him and settling against his chest.
James reached up, pulling his coat on top of them as a blanket. Clover hummed contentedly, finally feeling his mind quiet as he nestled in the familiar arms of his lover.
“I see your plan now,” James said. Clover could all but hear the smile. “Fall asleep on top of me so that I have to sleep instead of work.”
“Is it working?”
James kissed the top of his head, tucking Clover more securely into his side. “You’re a tactical genius.”
They laid there for a long while. Clover almost wondered if James had drifted off, when he spoke.
“Do you think Ozpin will really come back?”
James’s breath hitched. Apparently, he was still awake.
“I…can only hope so. Why do you ask?”
Clover took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“I just don’t think it’s fair to ask a child to act like a soldier.”
James sighed. Clover listened to his breath, his heartbeat. Felt the rise and fall of his chest, the whirring of machinery along with organic matter. When James spoke it was sorrowful, with the weight of the world in his voice.
“No,” he said. “No, I suppose that none of this is fair.”
Clover closed his eyes, and dreamt of his mother.