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Your life changes when you lay eyes on him for the first time.
You squint as she descends the ramp, as he blinks in the sunlight. Saph - you hear her name first, you already know his - you don't care about much, at first. All you know in that moment is that you've laid eyes on someone akin to Public Enemy No. One.
He introduces herself as Havok. He's nice. She really is. She takes you on a short tour of the ship, Saph following behind. She lets you pick your own room, which you do with some trepidation. Can't be too sure at this point. He takes you to the bridge, lays out the ground rules of the place. You like structure. You like safety.
You make a note of all the exits the second you walk in.
Then, Saph leaves. And you corner her.
Well. We're going to say that you cornered her. What you actually did was attempt to grab him by the front of his button-down flannel and push him into the wall. He pushes you back in surprise. But, you have her cornered in the end.
"What are you doing here?" You say it flatly, yet with a hint of a threat not left empty.
“Do I-er - know you from somewhere?”
You turn your head to the side, confused. “You’re supposed to be dead, Vaughn.”
She sighs. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“So you’re just...not? Buddy, they think you only escaped from Texas because you blew it up.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t blow it up. I deserted, went totally MIA, yes, but I didn’t do-” he gestures “- that.”
You close your eyes, running a hand through your scalp, fingers entangling in the plaques of braided hair. “I believe you.”
“Good,” she’s indifferent. You feel your nose crinkle. In your mind, at this moment, you rank higher than him. Your brain screams alarm bells of insubordination, of warning.
He will teach you to let that go.
Havok, as he’s calling himself now, is a mystery to you. You figure that you’re just as much of a mystery to him, judging by the way he jumps when you walk into a room. You had always heard that he was scary. Scary in both the way he advanced, and in the way he was hell to deal with as a subordinate. To you, he looks tired. He looks comfortable in the captain’s chair, uncomfortable anywhere else. You reckon he could fall asleep anywhere. And she does. You find that a lot of the crew sleeps in the common room.
You don’t.
One of the first things you notice about him is that he’s loud. Her voice can permeate walls, which is rather annoying when you sleep just off the common room.
One day, after Las Vegas, the first time you’d ever seen him actually use his powers, she asks you, out of the blue, if you ever sleep.
“Yes,” you answer, tight-lipped. You think it’s the truth. Honestly, the lack of food and the constant threat of falling out of the sky from lack of fuel were a little stressful. You don’t sleep easily when you’re stressed. Really, you don’t sleep easily ever.
Then, Ghet literally dragged you out to the common room one night.
It was quiet, at the very least. You sat on a couch, straight-backed and silent, analyzing more than just “taking it all in,” as someone said. Soon enough, Saph’s hands were in your hair, loosening the braids and re-plaiting it. It feels nice.
Havok raises his hand towards Lesia as Saph finishes the braid. “Most of us have seen, at least, you fight. You’re pretty good, in my humble opinion at least. Could you uh- give some of us some training?” You raise an eyebrow. You stand, silently, walking towards her as she stands up. Suddenly, you rush him, hooking an arm under his armpit, one hand under his head to cushion the blow. You’re on the ground, a hand on her collarbone.
“First rule. Be ready for anything,” you break into a tight-lipped smirk. Havok points at your face. The rest of the crew is silent.
“Didn’t know she could do that,” Khio remarks.
“Do what?” you ask.
“Smile," Havok says.
You sleep intermittently that night, and at some point you bear witness to Havok sneaking out onto the deck. You follow him, and you don’t realize how silent you’re being until she jumps when you tap his shoulder.
“What’re you doing out here?” he asks plainly.
“I could say the same thing to you.”
He sighs. “Just wanted some fresh air.”
You stand together in silence for a while, one of you slouching, the other of you as if you could snap to attention at any minute. The night is quiet, aside from the creaking of the ship as it pluttered along in the sky. You had never really taken notice of the stars before, seeing as you had lived underground most of your life.
“Make a wish,” Havok muttered under his breath.
“Hm?”
“Shooting star. Did ya not see it?”
“What does that have to do with-” Havok holds a hand up to silence you.
“You don’t know the uh- the correlation between shooting stars and making wishes?”
“No.”
She sighs. “So basically, when you see a shooting star, you’re supposed to like, make a wish on it. Like, wish for something. Doesn’t even have to be something, ah, attainable.”
“Oh. Then I wish for-”
Suddenly, you’re slowly blinking as Havok pushes a hand over your mouth. He chuffs a bit, seeing how distinctly unamused you are. “If you tell someone your wish, it won’t come true.”
You audibly sigh, yanking her hand away from your face. You frown, narrowing your eyebrows. Havok chuckles. “Did you live under a rock, or something, Lesia?”
“Well, considering the Programme facility in Chicago is underground, yes. I did live under a rock.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Maybe.”
“You are full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
“Despite what you may believe, I do have a personality.”
“It’s dry as a bone, but it is there.”
“And here I thought that Khio was the jokester.”
She rolls her eyes at you, clearly astounded that you had a sense of humor. Usually, on the ship, you personally found no time for jokes, what with being on the run and all. You could make them, sure, and yes, your humor was drier than the air in the mountains, but you could make a joke nonetheless.
They just weren’t used to you yet.
“I didn’t tell anyone about uh, you, just so you know,” Havok’s voice shudders you back from your train of thought.
“I didn’t either.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you mind me asking-” he rubs the back of his neck with a sense of caution, “-what was it like, for you, being so...out there, in front of people?”
You sigh, rubbing your nose, feeling the bump that lay underneath the skin. “It was nice, in my opinion. It was nice. Getting to use my powers, being seen as untouchable. It kept me safe, really. People didn’t attempt to uh, jump me on the street, per se. I miss it sometimes. It was nice having every day sort of laid out in front of you, slipped under your door on a sheet of paper in the morning. I enjoyed it. I had friends, y’know. I had a commander who cared about me. But I think-” she sighs, “-I think this is better.”
“You’re actually smiling now, I’ve noticed. Whenever there was footage of you, you never did.”
You exhale. “I mean, they always told me to be serious. It’s not like I had a choice. ‘Don’t be sad, that sends the wrong message, don’t smile, you’re not bloodlusted,’ you know? It was a totally different world. Looking back, it’s almost as if it were a spectator sport to some people. Really, I had no clue what it would be like for people who uh- were like you, really. Sort of…” Havok finds the words you don’t want to search for.
“Forced into it? Lesia, did you...did you get a choice either?”
You lose his eyes as you search your memories. Your brows fall as you find nothing other than caves and battles. “I don’t- maybe I-” you exhale again, confused.
“Hey,” he says softly, “maybe we’re just- maybe we’re more alike than we thought. Two renegade army kids, off to see the world.”
“I’m sixteen.”
“That’s still a kid, Lesia.” He cautiously rests a hand on your upper back. You shrink away, before you realize that he’s not trying to hurt you, or lecture you.
She’s trying to be your friend.
And, searching your memories again, you ran away from the last friend that you had.
“You’re really cold, you know,” Havok says.
“Yeah, it’s something or other about my powers and the way it manifests in my body. People tended to keep a wide berth around me. I liked the privacy. The long sleeves in the summer, however, were not the best.”
Havok laughs. “I understand how you feel. I was uh, stationed in the south. That base nicknamed Nowhere. Farthest I’d ever been from home,” she frowns. “I hated it.”
“I mean, you did leave, so I could only assume that you didn’t like it.”
“No, Lesia, it-” he sighs. “-it was hell. Could you- could you promise me one thing? I know we don’t really know each other all that well, but just promise me you won’t go back to them.”
You’re confused, at first. Had you had any intention of going back? No, absolutely not. But did you keep your promises? Yes. At the same time, did you want to keep your options open?
Absolutely.
So you tell him that you’ll agree not to go back.
Something tells you that it’s not the worst decision in the world.
Somewhere in the silence, you ask him something that’s probably dangerous. “Havok,” you say, trepidatiously, “do you think I’m a bad person?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Somewhere in there, you realize that he isn’t sure what to say. What the right answer is morally, what the right answer is to you. Either way, he says nothing.
Somewhere in there, you realize that it’s an answer in itself. And maybe you’re a killer. And he tells you, squeezing your shoulder, that it’s okay. He admits what you already know, what he hates taking responsibility for: death. Your actions have always been purposeful, even justifiable in your mind, in the mind of Commander Sartorious, in the minds of everyone you’ve ever known. Somewhere in there, your curtain is being pulled aside, and you’re not the Wizard after all.
You’re just a pawn.
And she tells you that it’s okay.
You realize, somewhere in there, that you’re a criminal now. It’s a fact that you knew, but maybe now, some weeks later, it’s setting in. “We’re all criminals, dear,” she says, a slight chuckle in her voice, an attempt to add some mirth to the melancholy in your face. You? You’re devastated. Your hands nearly explode as you explain that you’re going to die. Surely. You’re going to die, because that’s what happens to criminals. He grabs you by the shoulders and tells you two things:
You’re too valuable, too much of an asset to simply be killed off.
That you’re too smart to just get caught.
All you know is that you’ve stooped. You can’t protect your country anymore. You have to protect yourself. Your crew.
Your friends.
Havok- he shakes you, gently. He brings you back to reality. “You’re okay,” she says, “trust me.” You nod. You’re always okay. You have to be.
By the time Saph finds you, you’re laughing. You tell her that you’re feeling fine. You’re not lying.
You and Havok seem to grow closer in the months after. Your relationship is different than the one you have with Ghet, and much, much different than the one you have with Saph. You have this habit of showing affection by surprise-attacking each other, just going for it, in the most literal sense of the phrase. Eventually, somewhere in Ohio, you find it’s a little more natural for you to wrap your arms around each other, in a sense of unconditionality.
Your first winter on the ship is cold. It’s cold every day for you, but this really isn’t any better. Then comes November. You walk into the bridge during an argument between Ghet and Havok. It’s nothing new, really. You pull Ghet’s jacket tighter around you, closer to your chest, and you debate putting the hood up. Then, you hear Ghet say the word “Santa,” and boy howdy, it’s all over from there. You stand up.
“Where?”
Ghet and Havok both turn to look at you. “What do you mean, Les?” comes from Ghet.
“Where’s the intruder?” you’re taking his coat off, now, heading for the door.
“Oh, geez, no, he’s talking about Christmas, Lesia,” Havok says, holding a hand up, taking a step towards you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” and in a lightbulb moment, Havok realizes something: you don’t know what conventional holidays are.
“It’s uh- Santa- he comes at night on the one and delivers gifts to kids. It’s just a fairy tale. We don’t need to worry about it.”
“So he’s an intruder?”
“He’s a fairy tale.”
“You don’t know that. Havok won’t let us celebrate!” Ghet says, frustrated.
“I don’t see why we should glorify breaking and entering.” Ghet sighs at you.
“You’re such a Grinch,” Ghet says to Havok. Havok rolls her eyes. She mutters something under her breath as she leaves. “They’re already decorating, by the way. Try stopping Ef. I dare you.” Ghet grins at you as he leaves, and you follow out.
And there’s a tree in the middle of the common room.
You’re bewildered.
Havok groans.
Weeks pass. You’re still confused. On edge, even. You’re confused, between Ghet’s trancelike “Christmas spirit” and Havok’s irritability. So you do what any good soldier would do; you prepare. You stop sleeping. Santa could attack at any time. This was serious. Nobody else understood, which was strange.
Then, one night, you hear a clatter from the kitchen.
You warp yourself there, ready to attack.
All you find is Havok, standing on the counter.
“Lesia, what the actual-”
“I’m supposed to protect the ship by any means necessary.”
“Lesia, let’s- come sit down.” she motions to the dinner table, carefully cleaned by Lesia earlier that night. You follow her carefully, taking a seat in the darkened room. He clears his throat. “Christmas is- it’s a holiday. You sing songs and give gifts to each other. And, admittedly, I was being a little selfish in not wanting to celebrate it because Saph is, uh, gone.”
“What day is Christmas supposed to be?”
Havok blushes. “The 25th. It’s the 23rd.”
You smile. “We should decorate! Or have a nicer dinner, or something. I don’t know, we uh, Roman never told me about this.”
Havok nods. “Let’s uh, get to bed first.” You nod.
Christmas, your first one, is nice. Ghet teaches you Christmas carols, and while you’re lousy, utterly lousy at singing, you enjoy it. You hear Havok laugh for the first time in a long time when someone breaks out the Christmas crackers.
You know he misses Saph. You do too. You never talk about it, but you can’t help but wish she was here to enjoy this.
But you know she would have wanted you to enjoy it anyway.
Havok learns to braid your hair, eventually. You find him working in your strands when you wake up from a nap on the bridge, or after waking up from a fight. She’s a worrier, once she gets attached to you, you realize. She’d stopped getting close to new crew members once Saph had left. You suppose it’s because he didn’t want to lose anyone else.
And you could respect that.
The comfortability between the two of you grows with your compatibility with the ship. You find yourself sitting not quite as straight, a little more relaxed, now. Somewhere, you end up in Havok’s flannels over your old uniforms (you take them off before you fight. Don’t want them to get bloody or anything). Sometimes, he’s in your cardigans, even.
Eventually, someone asks you. “What’s your greatest fear?”
And your gut twinges when you think of losing her.