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She shouldn't have still been in Manhattan.
Not that Karen had a choice , really. Even with the infection mostly under control, getting off the island was beyond difficult. Paperwork, Marine patrols, patience she didn't have the energy for anymore. She was one of hundreds of people stranded on the island, being ushered away from the corpse-covered Red Zones–and hoping to God that Blackwatch didn't find them.
Which was exactly why she shouldn't have been in Manhattan. Because, standing right in front of her in line for a cup of coffee, was a Blackwatch soldier.
Not just any Blackwatch soldier– him. Even with his back to her, she recognized the towering, bulky frame, the streak of white running through otherwise black hair, the rigid posture as clasped his hands behind his back. She swallowed hard, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. They had only ever met a few times, none of which had been personal or even lengthy. But it wasn't the meetings themselves that caused her breath to catch in her throat. It was the circumstances .
This was the man that had come to greet "Alex" when Karen had sent him to what she fully believed would be his death.
"Alex" (what else could she even call him?) had confronted her about it. The matter had been settled; he was understanding, too understanding, willing to let her leave under the condition that she got the hell away from Blackwatch. She'd been more than happy to oblige, going off the grid, letting them believe he'd killed her (god, he could have so easily killed her). But a settled matter wasn't a finished matter, so here Karen was, confronted with the other half of her crime.
There was a small mercy–the soldier (she didn't even know his name, too afraid and ashamed to ask) had yet to notice her. He was focused fully on the person ahead of him, tapping his fingers against his forearm, occasionally shifting his weight between his feet. What would he even do , if he realized who she was? Take her into custody, throwing her to the mercy of the general? Pull out a pistol and put a bullet between her eyes? Both ? Her stomach twisted. If she left, he'd notice. If she didn't, he'd eventually turn, and he'd notice. Maybe he already knew. Maybe the tapping was signaling his reinforcements–
"Hey, are you alright?"
It was a completely innocent question from the front of the line, and maybe somewhere else, sometime else, Karen could have appreciated it. But not now. Now, all she did was pale. Because when the girl turned to ask, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand and a concerned crease in her brow, she also caught his attention. All he did was glance over his shoulder, but it was more than enough for them to lock eyes, for his rough features to sharpen in recognition. Karen opened her mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut when the words refused to leave her throat. The girl looked between them, shrugged, and continued on her way, sipping her drink and checking her phone. Karen remained frozen in place, the phrase oh God playing on loop in her head.
He turned his attention to the barista, his voice raspy and his tone curt. "Black coffee." A beat, then an equally rough, "I'll be paying for hers as well."
—
Running into a Blackwatch soldier at a coffee shop was one thing. Sitting on a Central Park bench with him, sipping her caramel macchiato, was… she had absolutely no idea what this was. She wasn't entirely convinced he did, either; he'd waited in the shop until she got her own drink, paid, then waited at the door for her. They'd walked the entire way here in complete silence, regardless of the fact they were side by side the whole way. Now they were on the same bench, still holding their tongues, still pushed against their respective opposite sides.
The silence felt worse than talking would have–so Karen broke it, if tentatively. "I… thought Blackwatch left the city," she started, though her gaze remained on anything but him. "At least- that's what I was told. I- I don't know."
"They did." Gruff, again–making it genuinely surprising when he pushed on from there. " I was under the impression they'd taken you with them- or that Mercer had taken you out. You dropped off the map."
The name got a flicker of a wince out of her, and the sidewalk became the most interesting thing around. "No. Ale- um, he… he found me, but he just told me to hide. That's all I've been doing." She sifted through his words in her head, though, and it became her turn to frown. "Them. As in- not you. So, you… you defected."
He answered with a grunt. A tiny, relieved laugh slipped her a moment later, against her better judgement; she clamped down on it the moment she felt his eyes on her.
"I- I'm sorry. It's just- I was so worried you were going to turn me in, or… I-I don't know. I guess I've just been on edge. Not that everyone hasn't." Karen rubbed her shoulder, and glanced up at him, just in time to see his jaw tighten. The why eluded her… until she caught sight of his hand on his own shoulder. The grip wasn't as tight as hers, but it was clearly instinctive , an automatic sense of empathy just from watching her. It was nothing but a nervous tick for her, really, but it only was because of the bruises that were once there. Her blood went cold.
(Bruises from Blackwatch . From when she refused to cooperate. They stopped at nothing to get her to do as they said. Why wouldn't they do the same to their own? The thought made her nauseous, almost more than the memories.)
"I'm sorry," Karen repeated, her voice considerably more hushed. The soldier grimaced, and tore his eyes away.
"I'm not interested in your pity , Parker. I left willingly." He dodged the actual point, but he didn't need to address it directly. She understood. He knew she understood. So she played along, sipping her drink with a small hum. She didn't look away.
"Of course." She twisted the drink in her hands, but offered a timid smile. "You know, I.. I don't think I ever got your name."
He kept his gaze stubbornly ahead of him, the gloved hard he'd brought up to his shoulder now being used to rapidly drum his fingers against his thigh. It took him a moment, but eventually, he exhaled through his nose. Gave in . "...Cross."
"Cross," Karen repeated. She straightened her posture, and her smile became a little more genuine. "...Thank you for the coffee, Cross."