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Advances in Freeze Force technology are dangerous. It takes three entire days for Meis’ flames to burn the bullet out of his thigh, where it sank in nearly to his hip bone and encased his entire right leg in a solid block of ice as it sent ice crystals spiraling outwards across his flesh. Even when the bullet is finally free, splintering into snowflakes and dissipating into the hot, dry desert air, Meis is weak. He’s exhausted, his flames finally sleeping for the first time in three days and his body keen to follow.
Gueira checks the wound once, twice, three times before he finally soothes it with a surge of his own blood-red fire, emanating from his outstretched fingertips as he smooths them over Meis’ bare thigh. The flames lick the raw edges of the bullet hole, slowly sealing it up, until it’s a scar on Meis’ paper-white skin and nothing more. Meis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, sinking back down into his bed roll as Gueira pulls a ratty old blanket over him to tuck him in, bending down to kiss his forehead.
“Better?” Gueira prompts.
“Better,” Meis agrees, but the weakness in his voice isn’t reassuring. Anti-Burnish technology is advancing quicker than they can keep up with it, and this new brand of bullet had been a nasty surprise when the black-clad colonel had fired it into Meis’ leg and sent him limping away with his life barely intact. If Gueira hadn’t been there…
Gueira doesn’t want to think about that, pressing his lips along Meis’ sharp jawline as he tucks the covers in around him. “Rest,” he says, “We’ll be fine. I’m just glad we finally got it out.”
“Me, too,” Meis hums tiredly, eyelids already drifting closed, “Ya sure you don’t want me to go with you? Just as a lookout, y’know.”
“No, you need to rest,” Gueira insists as he leans back, giving Meis’ fingers a final squeeze in one rough hand before he leaves them be, “We’ll be back in a jiffy. Promise.”
“Ya’ll pull back if ya smell trouble,” Meis says.
“We’ll be fine,” Gueira reassures him, already halfway to the door, “See you in a few, babe. Love you.”
Meis manages to smile, somewhere between the sleeping and the waking worlds, and his thick southern drawl comes out more when he’s this tired. “Love ya, too, darlin’.”
Gueira doesn’t want to leave him. He would have half a mind to cancel the mission, to tell their men to take the night off to recoup from their recent scuffle with Freeze Force three days prior. But, Meis insisted that the situation was dire and that Gueira and the others should check it out, with or without him. Getting a night off to recover was a luxury that they might could have afforded, but the Burnish in the nearby detention facility could not. To the unfortunate innocents snared there, minutes mattered.
Gueira closes the curtain that separates their sleeping quarters from the rest of the base - once upon a time, it had been a gas station, now little more than a concrete foundation with four mostly intact walls, charred black underneath the many years’ worth of desert dust from the Great World Blaze eight years prior. The others are already ready to go.
Desert sand turns to crackling glass beneath the fiery wheels of flaming bikes, descending into the quiet night in the direction of the detention facility. A decade later, most facilities like this would be inside towering skyscrapers in the city, crafted floor-to-ceiling from concrete and metal and ice, impenetrable fortresses where Burnish would be housed in freezers with blocks of ice around their limbs to prevent them from burning freely. But right now, when Freeze Force is still fairly young and the Burnish are still new, the facilities are mostly outdoors, so far out into the desert that the general public can’t grow too curious about what goes on inside their electrified walls. Barbed wire is threaded in throngs along the tops of electric fences, built around concrete slab buildings that are little more than glorified refrigerators on the inside. Gueira knows, because it wasn’t very long ago that he and Meis had fled from a facility exactly like this one as teenagers, bringing the fences down with walls of flames and disappearing into the desert before the guards even had time to respond. Those guards had probably hoped that they would never return after that day, but here he was, back again, no longer a scrawny redheaded teenager with gauze bandages hanging off his body like a mummy’s, but a giant of solid muscle encased in sleek, black obsidian with glowering red horns and a flaming four-wheeler that he could summon at will.
Gueira quietens his bike now. It vanishes underneath him and the desert descends into moonlit silence once more. He can see the facility now, glowing bright white beneath spotlights even as the prisoners inside slumber, locked inside freezers to keep them weak and cold until they’re needed for some sick, twisted human experiment. There are only a few guards posted and, in the future, Gueira will look back on this as the time that raids were easy, before Freeze Force realized that the free Burnish would always come for their trapped comrades. But, their mission tonight isn’t to free those locked inside, it’s to gather as much information about the place’s layout as they can, before they come back when the defenses are weakest to rescue them. Gueira can sense a few of his men on the ridges and crests around him, surveying the camp from as many angles as possible, scoping out any potential weaknesses.
An alarm sounds.
Gueira jumps. Around him, his men scatter and start to retreat into the desert around them, certain that they’ve been caught, but Gueira lingers. There’s no way they’ve been spotted, not that easily, not with their stark black armor blending seamlessly into the night. He hunkers down and watches, the world tinted a radioactive neon-green through his armor’s visor, the posted guards scattering, shouting, searching. Freeze Force is unorganized and sloppy in its infancy, before the Foresight Foundation was founded and offered them insight on how to contain and control the Burnish. Escapees aren’t entirely uncommon, at least for now, and Gueira knows that’s what he’s witnessing as soon as he sees a single figure round a corner near the back of the facility and make a beeline for the fence.
Great, he thinks to himself, already preparing to summon his bike. She should easily be able to clear the fence from here, bringing it down with a blast of fire, and then he can grab her and take her back to the base with him before the guards have a chance to catch them. But then, to his shock, the woman reaches the fence, seems to scramble, and then darts off in the other direction. He stops, shocked. Why didn’t she burn the fence down? Why is she scrambling for the gate, with the guards quickly closing in on her, when she could have been out by now?
He shakes his head. Perhaps she’s wounded or disoriented, weakened from her time in the facility, panicking too much to summon her flames. He’s on his feet in an instant, barreling towards the scene below him just as the first guard reaches the woman and drags her down on her face. She throws an arm up to call her flames, but nothing emerges from her outstretched palm but a feeble trail of smoke. What the hell’s wrong with her fire? Gueira doesn’t have time to think about it before his own is blasting ruby-red through the electric fence, sending up sparks and frying the spotlights, the camp descending into inky darkness as the guards scramble for their guns in a panic. Shots fire. The woman screams. Guards shout.
A baby cries.
Gueira stops.
The world seems to hold still for an instant. He’s only vaguely aware of the guard scattering around him, the woman gasping for her last shaky breath beside him, and his fire crackling as it blazes across the dusty courtyard. His armor’s visor functions like night goggles, glowering green as his gaze falls on the blanket bundle that’s fallen right beside him, one tiny fist flailing from within it.
The snout of Gueira’s armor nudges the bundle tentatively. The infant inside shrieks and sends up a spark of flame.
A baby.
A Burnish baby.
The slit nostrils inset in the snout of Gueira’s armor flare as he turns towards the woman beside him. She’s still now, the green of his visor igniting the hole blasted clear through her ribcage in eerie sharp light, frost gathering on icy ragged edges as it oozes blood. He sniffs.
She’s flesh and blood, not fire and ash. This woman is not Burnish.
But, the mewling baby beside him is.
A shot hits Gueira in the backside, bouncing harmlessly off of his armor, and he whirls around, suddenly twice as furious. The weapon fires twice more before it’s silenced with a scream from its holder, who meets a swift demise at wickedly clawed hands. The other guards open fire on him, but his armor protects him, even as he bends double to sweep the shrieking blanket bundle underneath one burly arm before he rockets off into the night, fleeing through the same smoldering, gaping hole in the fence through which he entered and disappearing into the desert beyond. He doesn’t summon his bike until he can’t hear the cries of the guards behind him anymore, the night growing eerily quiet except for the simpering cries of his most unexpected guest.
Gueira stops, the flaming bike purring between his legs. His armor melts off of his form like the flesh off a skeleton, his suddenly smaller arms bringing the baby in closer to his chest to cradle him, cooing softly as he sees him clearly for the first time. Bright eyes peer up at him from a round little face, complete with a nubby nose and chubby cheeks and plump little pink lips downturned into an adorably stern frown. He can’t be more than a few months old, still so small, so new…
So alone, the way so many Burnish are.
Gueira’s heart sinks as he realizes the gravity of the situation. The newborn’s mother is dead. As small as he is, he must have been born inside the facility. His chances there had already been slim, but now, without a mother to care for him, he stood no chance in this world. And Gueira hardly thought he could leave a Burnish baby on some well-meaning citizen’s doorstep like a Hollywood movie orphan and expect it to work out well.
Sighing, Gueira offers the whimpering baby a finger. A chubby fist flails at it, then tiny little fingers are curling around it, squeezing it with surprising strength for something so pitiful and small. Gueira doesn’t know what else to do, besides tuck the infant back in his bundle, hold him close to his chest, and fire off into the night, back in the direction of the Mad Burnish base.
Meis is going to kill him.
Meis doesn’t wake until he hears the rumble of Gueira’s ATV outside, quietening when he wills it away. He’s still too tired to move, although he feels marginally better now than he did when he fell asleep a few hours before, so he lies on his back on the cold, hard concrete and ratty old blankets and listens to the muffled conversation outside until it dies. He resolves to fall back asleep and wait for the warmth of Gueira’s arms to wake him, eyelids drifting peacefully closed when he hears the curtain to their would-be room slide aside.
“Meis?” Gueira calls into the darkness.
Meis sits up in an instant, wincing when he does. Gueira has that guilty tone to his voice, and he knows the redhead has done something before he even manages to find their battery-powered lantern in the darkness and switch it on.
When he does, he frankly gapes.
“You have got to be kiddin’ me,” Meis says.
Gueira shrinks back at his tone. “M-Meis, listen! Just look!”
“Ya brought back a baby ?! Gueira, this is a gang , what exactly do you propose we do with a fuckin’ baby ?” Meis half-shouts, half-snarls, throwing his hands up in the air, “Furthermore, where did you get that thing? I swear to fuckin’ god , Gueira, you’re gonna -”
“Hey, that thing is a he!” Gueira retorts, his lower lip pooched out adorably as he shrinks back from Meis’ exasperatedly flailing arms, watching dejectedly as his partner cradles his forehead in one hand and sighs.
“Gueira, I don’t care what it is, why is it here ?” Meis demands tiredly, “What happened out there?”
“Meis, I know this is a shit idea, but hear me out,” Gueira retorts, “Just look .”
The raven-haired man looks at him from the corner of his one good eye, shaking his head disinterestedly. “Yeah, darlin’, it’s a real cute baby, but -”
Meis cuts himself off when the infant in Gueira’s arms sneezes and shoots off a blast of fire. He stares, his one eye wide.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Gueira grins smugly, almost proudly. “Yeah, I know! I was shocked, too, but that’s pretty dope, right? A Burnish baby .”
Meis is shaking his head disbelievingly. “I mean, we’ve seen Burnish kids before, ‘round the camps. There were even a few back at our ol’ facility, I think, I could hear ‘em cryin’ through the walls at night. But...that’s a baby. A whole ass baby. That can spit fire.”
“A Burnish baby,” Gueira repeats, offering the baby a finger. The infant takes it, squeaking, and Gueira coos at him. Meis’ brow softens.
“Alright, what happened? How exactly did ya wind up with a whole ass Burnish baby?” he asks, settling back on his elbows on their bed roll, wincing when his thigh twinges.
“We went to scope out the facility, just like we planned,” Gueira says, recounting his evening, his fierce amber eyes softening as he brushes a downy-soft tuft of hair across the infant’s forehead, those bright eyes peering up at him with the sort of intelligence he never expected to see from a baby, “Those bastards killed ‘is mom, Meis. I know bringin’ him back here was a bad idea, but...I didn’t know what else to do. Can you blame me?”
“No,” Meis says right away, frowning severely behind his curtain of sleek black hair, “I can’t. I know I would’ve done the same thing, if it had been me. Ya said his mama wasn’t Burnish?”
Gueira shakes his head. “No, but she acted like she was trying to throw up a flare a few times, before the guards killed ‘er. She had smoke comin’ outta her hands when she did, too. So...maybe she wasn’t Burnish now, but she used to be?”
Meis’ frown deepens. “Don’t matter now, I s’pose. Guess all there’s left to do now is find a home for ‘im.”
Gueira scoffs. “C’mon, Meis, who’s gonna take in a Burnish baby? I mean, a regular baby is rough enough without it burpin’ up fire or something.”
“There are Burnish sympathizers in the city, maybe one of ‘em will take pity, at least ‘til the kid’s old enough to fend for himself,” Meis suggests.
The redhead frowns, glancing from the baby in his arms to Meis. “No.”
Meis looks at him, startled. “Ya gotta better idea?”
“Yeah, I sure do,” Gueira retorts, grinning, “Let’s keep him, Meis!”
Meis laughs incredulously. “You’ve lost your fuckin’ mind, Gueira.”
“Babe, listen,” the redhead insists, “We can’t exactly...y’know, have our own. And he’s right here and he needs a family and he’s a Burnish! He’s perfect!”
Sighing, Meis rolls onto his unwounded side and looks at Gueira, smiling sadly. “Gueira, I know you wanna ‘ave kids someday. And I agree, we totally should. But right now, we’re the leaders of a gang that Freeze Force wants dead. You’ve gotta know that it’s way too dangerous for ‘im here with us. He would be safer with someone in the city, yeah? But I promise ya, as soon as things calm down, maybe when we’re a bit older, we’ll have some kids. I want it too, y’know.”
“I know, but…,” Gueira trails off, frowning sadly as his gaze drops the bundle in his arms, now sleeping soundly with one tiny fist curled around Gueira’s finger, “I don’t wanna wait.”
“Neither do I,” Meis says, sighing, “But I’m thinkin’ of the kid when I say it ain’t safe here. I mean, what’re you gonna do, darlin’? Strap ‘em to your chest while ya ride off into the city to blaze it to the ground? Teach ‘em to tuck an’ roll when Freeze Force opens fire on us?”
Gueira pouts. “I don’t wanna give him to just anybody, Meis.”
“We won’t, we’ll find a nice family for the lil’ fireball, where he’ll be real happy an’ safe,” Meis replies, “An’ besides, what would ya feed him? He needs formula an’ diapers an’ shit.”
“I think there’s a Walmart about three hours out,” Gueira retorts, “and convenience stores usually sell diapers and shit.”
Meis sighs. “Give it up, Gueira. I’m...I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Breaking Gueira’s heart is the one thing in the world that he swore never to do, but he also knows that this isn’t feasible. Gueira’s heart would be broken much worse in a few weeks when the baby inevitably turned to ash if it stayed with them. The redhead had told him at length, not very long after they escaped together, sleeping beneath the desert sky cradled in one another’s arms, that he would love to have a family someday. Gueira came from a big family, so it was no surprise that he wanted kids. Meis thought it was a nice thought, too, but not right now. Not when he was only recently twenty-five and Gueira was several years younger, and not when Freeze Force had a price on their heads, wanted dead or alive. He hardly thought Colonel Vulcan cared if there was a baby on board or not when he opened fire on their bikes.
Meis hears Gueira sigh, and then the redhead is tentatively sitting down on their bed roll beside him. The infant is sleeping peacefully in his arms, eerily quiet for the night he’s just been through, while Gueira twirls his bit of downy hair around his fingertip. Sighing, Meis sits up, wincing only very slightly now, and rests his head on Gueira’s shoulder, an arm sliding tentatively around his waist.
“I know you’re right,” Gueira says after a few moments, “But I can’t shake the feelin’ that he’s meant to be here with us.”
“It’s only been a couple hours and you’re already attached,” Meis says, not without fondness, as he peers down at the newborn over Gueira’s shoulder. He is a very cute baby, with his soft curl of hair and round cheeks. Meis had seen before he fell asleep that he had very pretty eyes, like Gueira. He stops himself before that thought can go any further.
“You weren’t there,” Gueira gripes, “He just... looked at me in this way that made me feel like he trusts me. And his eyes are like...he looks like he’s gonna be real smart. I just feel like this baby’s gonna be real important, Meis.”
“Gueira,” Meis chuckles, giving him a gentle bat with his head, “You saw a coyote out ‘ere once and said the same damn thing about it.”
“I remember,” Gueira laments, “I almost caught rabies.”
“You sure did, you dumbass,” Meis says, glancing down when he hears a tiny whimper emerge from the blanket bundle in Gueira’s lap, bright eyes blinking open blearily with a half-sob, “Uh-oh. I’ll bet he’s hungry.”
“Or shat himself,” Gueira agrees, then lifts the baby up to his face to nuzzle noses with it, chuckling lightheartedly, “But no shame in that, lil’ guy! Who among us hasn’t? It totally happens!”
“And it’s gonna happen a lot more,” Meis reminds him, frowning when the baby, in absolutely no mood for Gueira’s shenanigans, erupts into a full-bodied wail, tears rolling down his tiny plump cheeks. Something in his chest clenches. “No, no, don’t cry…”
“Shh…,” Gueira tries to soothe him, but the baby only cries louder, “Oh god, what am I doing wrong? He needs milk and I don’t have any!”
Meis sighs, smiling hopelessly as he leans back and outstretches his arms. “Here. Lemme see ‘em.”
Gueira worriedly passes the baby to Meis, who takes him like he’s handled babies his entire life - which is odd, because Gueira knows that Meis was an only child and never around children much - and cradles him close to his chest. “Am I holdin’ ‘em right?”
“You’re doing great,” Gueira says, scooting behind Meis to wrap an arm around his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder, watching him cradle the baby with a certain tenderness in his eyes. This feels right. “Like an old pro.”
“Hush now,” Meis shushes the whimpering bundle, supporting his neck with one hand and his body with the other while he gently sways him, privately hoping that it doesn’t make him spit up or something, “He’s so...little and gross.”
Gueira gasps. “You are so mean , Meis.”
“All babies are gross,” Meis protests, rocking gently, “Are ya sure ya wouldn’t rather have the coyote?”
Gueira chuckles. “Nah, he’s cuter. Hey, sing ‘em a lullaby.”
“Alright,” Meis agrees a little too quickly, humming a tune. A moment later, he’s singing sweetly while he’s rocking the newborn and Gueira is tightening his squeeze around his waist, bringing him in closer. Slowly but surely, tiny bright eyes drift back closed, but not without a few discontented murmurs.
Meis finishes the last verse even though the baby isn’t awake to hear it, only dimly aware of Gueira purring sleepily against his shoulder. It must be nearly daybreak now. “Ya should send a raidin’ party out. He needs a clean diaper and food.”
“I’ll go,” Gueira offers.
“No, you’re tired, you haven’t slept a wink, an’ you’re sloppy when you’re tired,” Meis protests, “Send some o’ the others. ‘Sides, I need ya here to help me with ‘em.”
“You seem like you’re handlin’ him just fine by yourself,” Gueira muses, admittedly half-asleep after his long night and the soothing drawl of Meis’ voice lulling him into a rare moment of relaxation.
“I don’t trust myself not to screw it up without ya here,” Meis admits, fingering that curl of hair on the baby’s forehead, “S’pose he is kinda cute, in a way. Babies are weird.”
“Yeah, but I like them,” Gueira says, “Kids are cool. That’s why I want ‘em.”
“I want ‘em, too,” Meis agrees, nodding absentmindedly before he rests his head on Gueira’s, humming thoughtfully, “I kinda knew I wanted somethin’ like this with you, from the beginning. I had boyfriends before ya, but never like you. I knew ya were all mine soon as I met ya.”
“I know,” Gueira muses sleepily, “‘Cause I felt the same. One conversation and I knew I’d do damn near anything for you, babe.” He smiles. “This is nice.”
“It won’t be nice when he’s shriekin’ for some food in a few hours, if ya don’t get off ya ass an’ send out that raid party,” Meis reminds him.
Gueira grumbles, “In a minute. I wanna enjoy this while it lasts.”
Meis sighs. He already knows that this moment will more than last. He’s fallen under the infant’s spell as easily as Gueira did, the tiny form warm like fire in his arms, tucked right up against his chest. Gueira always wanted kids. Meis didn’t want kids until he met Gueira. The stupid bastard’s right: this does feel right.
“Gueira,” he hums, closing his heads as he nuzzles into the familiar scruff of red hair, “Why do I feel like he’s gonna change the world?”
“‘Cause he is,” Gueira says, “I think he’s the most important Burnish that’ll ever live, Meis. I’ve just gotta feeling that he’s special.”
“Guess all parents feel that way about their kids,” Meis mumbles, sighing softly in blissful defeat as he holds the baby - his baby - closer, “What should we call ‘em, darlin’?”
Yawning, Gueira reluctantly leaves Meis’ shoulder to lie down in their bed roll. Meis lets him; he’ll tell the patrol to head out on a raid himself, Gueira’s tired. The redhead motions to the space beside him, which Meis settles into with familiar ease, even with a baby now nestled between then, rested lightly on Gueira’s chest, where he can hear his heartbeat and the crackle of his flames. Gueira smiles, one arm around Meis, the other hand rested on the baby’s back, rising and falling gently with his breath.
“I like the name Lio.”