Chapter Text
She doesn’t know where her hoodie is. For some unknown reason, it isn’t hung up as usual in her locker. No one else is able to access this aside from herself, since they’re locked through biometrics. She looks through her worn jacket, patting down corners and pockets even though she knows that it couldn’t possibly be there. Biting her lip, she thinks of where she had last left it behind whilst scolding herself for being careless with her own belongings, especially with this organisation.
They had got over their large differences, agreeing to work together to achieve their own goals. But aside from the leaders of VALORANT and Cypher, none of the protocol took well to her joining the group. Most of the time when she’s not fighting for her life on a mission, she’s in her room, looking through pictures of her family cat that passed years ago as she sips her coffee. Black, no sugars. Whenever she enters the mess hall, breakfast, lunch or dinner, eyes turn to her and whispers rise as she strides through the room. She sits next to Cypher when he’s in and alone when he’s not. Whilst it's not the greatest issue she’s faced, having only a single person to talk to in the protocol has its downfalls. Most notably that she doesn’t know what to do after losing a hoodie. Having too much pride to go around to each agent to ask if they've seen the sight of a grey hoodie, she sighs and resigns to ask Cypher if he’s spotted anything. Hopefully, he has, else she’ll have to eventually break the unseen barrier between the rest of the agents, especially those she had…apprehended in Istanbul.
Grumbling, she paces back to her room to sweep it over, willing to turn the entire place upside down if she has to. On the way there, she passes by two agents, both who speak far too much and give her a headache whenever they’re near. Acknowledging this, she speeds up, rather determined to get out of their proximity as well as to retrieve her hoodie from wherever she had lost it. She gives a quick glance at the pair, remembering the names for only one of them, since she had given her a little taste of their nightmares a couple of months ago. Neon isn’t looking at her, but the other one is. With a furrowed and straight mouth, she doesn't miss the increase in pace from wind girl as she nearly drags the Neon along with one hand whilst the other arm pistons back and forth. She would have found the whole thing a little amusing, if she didn't realise that this Neon was wearing her hoodie, the one that she wears nearly every single time they have to go out on a mission.
Blankly staring at her to make sure she isn’t mistaken, Fade stands in the hallway as she burns her eyes into her hoodie which is on Neon . Wanting the hoodie back nearly desperately, she automatically reaches out to grab Neon’s arm without saying anything. Realising what she’s done she looks in horror at her hand as Neon turns around. A zap sparks on her fingertips as she does so. Neon looks utterly perplexed, eyes wide with no thought processing behind those eyes. Eyes meeting, they engage in an unknowing staring contest, hoping one would give up before the other. Its Neon who looks away first, awkwardly shrugging as she asks:
“Do you… want something?”
“That’s my hoodie.”
“Huh?”
“You’re wearing my hoodie.”
“Oh.”
“I want it back.”
“Yeah uh, sure.” She finally drops her hand as she lets Neon take a step back to take off her beloved hoodie. Finally, she can pretend she’s asleep again with a hood. Not that she can get much sleep anyways.
Neon crosses her arms over as she grabs the bottom of the hoodie, pulling it over her head as it comes off. Her t-shirt rides up a little, showing her mid-section which Fade can’t help to look at. Toned, tanned and tense, it's a pretty sight for her and she barely manages to tear her eyes away in time to not look suspicious. Her hair is a little frazzled, static buzzing as she folds the hoodie in three and hands it over with two hands.
“Sorry about that,” she says before turning round, jogging to meet Jett as she waits down the corridor, too hungry to wait around. Hoodie in her possession, she realises she has no need to stay about. Deciding she needs a coffee, she heads for the canteen, hoping maybe Cypher would be there to tell this weird story about.
–
Out of the shower, she slicks back her hair as she pats down her body with a towel. It's nearing dusk, orange rays illuminating her room. She's thankful that she was lucky enough to get a room with a nice view, there's only so much you can do on your own in the night in your room when the entire facility is on hold, only the faint whirring of electricity to be heard. It doesn't hurt to have something nice to look at as she reads, sipping her coffee like nothing is wrong, that he’s all safe.
She throws on her pyjama bottoms and reaches out next to her to get her t-shirt, it's always in the same spot each time she has to undress. Patting her hand around on her bed, she combs through her hair with the other hand. Strange, the t-shirt isn't there. Flipping her covers back, she rummages through her bed to realise that it's not there either. Groaning, she puts on her hoodie and stomps her way to her locker. She knows it's not going to be there either but what else is she to do, when the rest of her clothes are in the wash or are far too much for a relaxed evening. Slapping her hand onto the biometric scanner, she waits for it to unlock. Upon hearing a soft click, she slams the door open to see only her jacket hanging there. Gazing at the ceiling, she groans again as she’s going to have to wear her thick hoodie in the midst of a heatwave. She doesn't like to use the air conditioning, but it seems like she’s going to have to make an exception today. Shaking off her still-wet hair, she closes the locker door and sits down onto a bench as she thinks over where she could have left behind her t-shirt. She swears that she had left it in the usual spot, just off centre the bed next to her socks. Or is it in the wash like the rest of her clothes, spinning around in a metal death box with organism killing chemicals to make it smell nice only for so long.
“Hey.” Someone’s voice rings out in the locker room, reverberating in the once silent room. Its Neon, wearing matching tracksuits with her t-shirt in her hand. Its folded up as nicely as it was when she returned her hoodie, probably washed as well by the look of it. “I think this is yours.”
She should be nice, saying thank you for finding it, or asking where she found it. Instead:
“Why do you have my t-shirt.” It comes out before she can stop herself, it's harsh and cold, cutting words that hurt. Luckily, she only shrugs in response, possibly as confused as she is.
“Someone left it outside my door. I saw you wearing this the other day, so…”
“Why the lockers?” She still hasn’t dropped the cold voice, Neon bristles a little at her response. Yet, she gives the same shrug of her shoulders before replying.
“I tried your room but you weren't there.” Seeing that she’s picking her nails from what Fade guesses to be nerves, she gives a little slack. Letting out a sigh, she gives a warmer reply.
“Well, thank you for returning it.” She takes her t-shirt from her hands and walks past her, ready to finish the book she started this morning. She does have the entire night. Just before she beeps her card against the reader, Neon blurts out a question.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Sorry?” She’s never seen this girl drink alcohol before, albeit she doesn’t spend much time with her. Also, the only alcohol on base was the terrible beer that Breach had every now and then. She didn't really take Neon as someone who appreciated beer, but maybe she was wrong.
“It's just the second time I've ended up with you stuff, so I could grab you a coffee?” not for the first time, she’s bewildered. Someone who she’s blackmailed and doxed is willing to buy her a drink? The unimpressed look on her face has Neon backtracking and amending her offer. “Or energy drink if coffee doesn’t have enough caffeine for you,” she says quickly.
“No, coffee is fine.” With a quick thumbs up, Neon whizzes away, leaving her hair standing on its end as she hears the quick footsteps draw away and then come back. Neon returns with a can of coffee in one hand, apple juice in the other.
“Catch,” she says as she lobs the can of coffee towards Fade, not knowing that she has the hand-eye coordination of a dyspraxic child and may actually be dyspraxic herself. The can clatters against the ground and somehow doesn't burst. Rolling towards her feet, she bends down and picks it up, slightly disgruntled by the fact it’s some chain brand coffee.
They sit opposite each other in the locker room, their cans of drinks hissing open. “Sorry, it’s the only thing on this base and well, the nearest cafe is a twenty minute drive and then we have to get permission to leave and all of that”.
“No, this is fine,” lying through her teeth as she swallows down the bitter concoction. Well, anything to keep her awake. Crumpling her can in her hands, she looks at Neon who’s sipping at her juice. Unusually, her hair isn't in the usual two buns but down, just past her shoulders. The electric yellow highlights shine through the blue, the combination creating a pleasing view.
Fade watches and Neon drinks. No words are exchanged between them, Fade only moves to inspect her now-found t-shirt ( no crinkles ) and Neon reads the ingredient list of her can and is audibly shocked at the fact that it contains something else aside from apples and water. Drumming her fingers against her seats, she stares blankly at Neon when their gazes meet, which the latter does the same. Drinks finished and t-shirt hunt over, Fade pushes herself off from the bench and decides that now is the time to return to her novel that she should have started the moment she had finished her shower, t-shirt or no t-shirt. Before she’s even taken more than three steps, something tugs on her sleeve. Turning round, she sees Neon holding onto her hoodie like it's a lifeline, grip firm and unwavering.
“I need to ask you something.” face mixed with determination and embarrassment, she holds uneasy eye contact with Fade. The latter is perplexed, what could she want to ask her about. They have barely gone on any missions together, nor are they scheduled to do so. Their radiant abilities are not similar either. As much as she enjoys a good metaphorical comparison, something about electricity and her nightmare inducing powers seem too far apart to make that sort of comparison.
“Go ahead.”
The hand falls and her head turns away, badly hiding the flush on her face.
“How do you, um, control your powers?” she raises her eyebrows, not expecting this. Whilst she vaguely knew about Neon’s mentorship with the senior members of the protocol, she didn’t realise her control over her abilities was so lacking that she would even go out of her way to ask someone that had given her probably the worst nightmares that she would ever have.
But despite the bashfulness, Neon waits for her response, determined to learn more about what she could do to improve.
“Was Sage’s advice not enough for you?”
“It’s just that-”
“Reyna would be more helpful, she knows the danger of her power and uses it accordingly so”
“I’ve gone to both. I just want to hear some advice from you.”
“Me?” she scoffs as she leans back. The coffee can crumples in her hand as she lets out a short burst of laughter. “I gave you nightmares, Neon. Why do you want advice from me?”
“You seem like someone who has it under control” she laughs even more at that, amused at the fact that she thinks herself to be ‘under control’. If she knew that the dark bags under her eyes aren’t just for the aesthetic, despite what Neon’s friends may believe, or how much time she spent locked up in her room back in Turkey, screaming into the void of darkness even no one can hear her. It was only after she admitted defeat, that this wretched Nightmare would never leave, she realised they could work together to achieve their respective goals. She still doesn’t know what the Nightmare wants.
“I don’t. I just have enough power to keep it contains,” Fade partially lies. She can control her powers, but it’s not the same kind that the other radiants have. It's hard to control the unprecedented whispers and mutterings from her own mind. Sometimes they help, sometimes they don’t. “Nice to see that I appear collected though.”
“I mean, if you manage to dox an organisation that’s meant to be a secret to the public you’ve got to be organised to some extent.” she draws in reply, tilting her head as she looks at Fade for some comeback, which the latter has none; it leaves her silent. She knows that Neon has every right to joke (or not) about what happened in Istanbul, but she usually hears them through mutterings and whispers, not right in front of her face.
“I’ll take my leave.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be aggressive,” Neon’s face is fallen, a slight frown and a look of worry in her eyes. Something sparks, then again until she slaps the surge pack on her back. Possible malfunction might explain why she’s gone out of her way to ask the last person she would usually ask for advice.
“It’s fine, what you said isn’t wrong. You probably hate me for it.” She paces towards the door, wishing she could just leave. A weird prickling feeling grows from her stomach, its tendrils creeping slowly up her body. Before she’s able to turn the handle, a hand rests on her shoulder. Being slightly static, it takes some effort to stop herself from jumping on the spot or giving any kind of visible reaction that she is surprised. Looking over her shoulder, Neon has a determined gaze, eyes faintly glowing, indicating that she activated her powers. The combination of the fact that there's a hand on her shoulder, the hand is Neon’s and that this girl is staring at her as if she’s trying to dig into her soul has her emotions frazzled, running around all over the place as her eyes do the same. They look at her arms, legs, face, nose, eyes, mouth and all Fade can hope is that the Neon hasn’t noticed her wandering eyes. The Nightmare decides to speak.
Stop this behaviour. You’ll gain nothing from growing fond of her. Remember why you’re here in the first place.
She has to save him. She doesn’t need distractions. She can do it alone. She must-
“Are you okay?” a concerned voice cuts through her thoughts, or the Nightmare’s thoughts. Spoken softly, her hand has moved from her shoulder to her upper arm, rubbing it gently as if Fade’s just gone through some sort of crisis.
“I’m fine. You don't need to force yourself to talk with me”. Shaking off her hand from her arm, she grips the handle and pulls the door open. With a small thanks for the coffee (that was fucking disgusting) and that it was nice of her (far too nice of her), she leaves the locker room, ignoring Neon’s voice telling her to:
“Wait!”.
–
The next time that she loses something, someone tells her that a particular Filipino might have it. Call it gut intention or the fact that the past two times it's been Neon who’s ended up with her clothes, she’s sure that her goddamn jacket is within her possession, intentional or not.
She remembers well of their previous interaction and while knowing that it would be more than awkward between the two, she needs her jacket back. It’s the few things she has left of him in this world (and she doesn’t want to wear pink right now) so she musters up the effort to go wandering through the corridors of the facility to find Neon’s room.
Inconveniently, she only realises this in the middle of the night. It's well past the average time that everyone goes to bed, even those hyper energetic youngsters (who at most are only 4 years their senior) that stay up later in the night to do whatever hyper energetic youngsters (the oldest actually being of the same age as her) do.
She knocks on Neon’s door, knowing that she’s awake as the soft thumping of whatever music she’s listening to is still playing. Weirdly enough, someone else is awake within the facilities which are not her own nightmares. Rapping against the door once, she waits. No answer and the beat still keeps going. Another rap. Nothing. Curling her fist, she forcefully slams against it, using the fleshier part of her hand rather than the knuckles.
The music dims down but does not completely turn off, only a tinny sound now can be heard through the door. Thank god , it was unbearable with it being so loud, hearing the low vibrations along the corridor. The door creaks open slowly, crack by crack accompanied with loud laughters and what seems a lot like screeching. Young people.
Bizarrely, it is not Neon who greets her, but instead that obnoxious Korean girl who has the inability to stay quiet for any longer than five seconds. She's just as confused as Fade, brows furrowed together as she looks at her in disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” It may have been a question about her presence, or a question about her as a person in general, but she’s determined to get that jacket back. She ignores the rascal's question and tries to push past her. It's unsuccessful, the ridiculous amount of flying and speeding around must have given this girl some even more ridiculous amount of muscles since she doesn’t budge an inch, even against Fade’s own physical touch.
“Where’s Neon?” she says, ignoring her question. She tries to barge through the door since it’s open now, but Jett doesn’t move.
“Why would that concern you?” Fade doesn’t miss the venom laced in her words, so she just glares back and keeps trying to get through the door. Seeing that she won’t be able to get through without some cooperation, she gives a response with a sigh and roll of eyes.
“I need to ask her something.” She leans into her, and the stench of alcohol hits her. They’ve been drinking.
“Ask her… what?” Jett speaks with a little drag. Fade notices the small signs showing drunkenness, the flush in her cheeks, the lethargy nature of her speech, the weird way that she focuses on Fade as if she’s a hawk on her way to eat a barn mouse.
“It’s personal.”
“Since when were you and Neon friends?” She’s about to bite back that they’re not friends, that they have the same relationship with nearly everyone else in this organisation but stops herself. It would be a disservice to her to say that they are merely acquaintances when the latter had been nice, buying her coffee (regardless of how bad it was). Her hand on her shoulder was nicer, warm as well.
“Just come back tomorrow, we’re busy,” Jett replies as she closes the door. Fade’s hand stops the door, barely keeping it open with one hand as she shoves in her foot in the gap between. With much muster and a little help from her prowlers, she manages to literally squeeze into the room, out of breath by the end of it. Supporting herself against the wall with one hand, bending over like a prawn with the other hand on her knee, she pants as she recollects herself. She reminds herself to invest into more weight training, since she refuses to be outclassed by someone who may as well be a drunk teenager (the person in question is very much in her twenties). By the time that she catches her breath again, she harrowingly realises that Neon’s room, which she hopes and dreads is Neon’s room, is hosting some small scale party. All participants are still as if it is a freeze frame in some terrible rom com, the blue guy about to chug down a beer whilst fire-boy looks to be in a position to further egg him on with this stupidity. Orange girl is with the one who owns way too many robots for her own goods (Cypher expressed his annoyance about them to her plenty of times) and Neon, blissfully unaware of the situation, slaps down a deck of cards, finishing off the dramatic gesture with a very energetic Ha! Everyone but her is staring at Fade, a mixture of emotions written across their face. If she’s being optimistic, they look puzzled. Realistically, they look like they’ve just witnessed Viper say something genuinely nice to Chamber. Horrified and wanting answers.
The odd silence aside from the music, which has turned into more of a jazz electronic fusion, lets Neon realise what’s going on as well as the fact that Fade is in her room.
“Uh, hey?” she dons little aside from a tight black crop top and a pair of loungewear that hangs off her hips, highlighting her figure. It's not like she has a bad one, but the simple outfit that she wears does a lot to make her look even more sculpted. Ignoring the colouring of Neon’s cheeks, she gets to the point.
“You have my jacket?” she replies like a statement, so sure that she has it that she’s willing to bet her coffee bean stash on it.
“No? Why would I?” Neon says hesitantly, laughing (for some reason) sheepishly as she looks around at everyone else, never looking at Fade. Ears tinged red and arms crossed over, she literally looks like a deer in headlights, less furry and more blue. And pretty. And fit.
“You’ve had my clothes the last two times.” Murmurs begin, she hears fireboy say something like since when did Fade ever speak with anyone . Idiots.
“One was an accident. The other was planted?” Boisterous noises escape the mouths of the spectators of this, oooooo and damn spotting out across the room. She ignores this, finding no reason to be bothered by this.
“Can you take a look in your closet?” Someone snorts at that, mentioning how she needs to come out of the closet first before that happens. Again, she ignores this.
“Sure?” her reply sounds uncertain, but setting down the cards that she was shuffling in her hands, she gets up to ruffle through her closet. She mutters something unintelligible and may not have been in English in the first place, throwing out the skimpiest top she’s ever seen in her life to her bed, narrowly missing blue boy as everyone else watches these interactions like it's a nature documentary. All that’s missing is David Attenborough making some note about the impending doom of the infant animal that’s about to be the dinner of a predator. Appears like Fade’s going to eat Neon.
The deeper she goes into her wardrobe, the more uncomfortable the atmosphere becomes. All of the flashing lights and the music playing in the background couldn’t be any less ‘Fade-core’. To avoid seeing the expressions on everyone else’s face, she focuses on Neon. More specifically, Neon’s muscular back which flexes each time she throws something out of her closet, or the toned arms. It's a great outfit, it shows off all of her assets.
Her scrambled searching stops all of a sudden, as she slowly draws out her jacket. Its unmistakable hers, The worn out grey jacket with soft purple lining. Its pockets are zipped the way she last left them, left one up, right one undone. It hung perfectly on a hanger, unlike the rest of Neon’s clothes which are haphazardly thrown into the closet, a single hanger carrying two jumpers, leggings and shorts. She stretches out her harm to hand it to Fade, who slings the jacket around her shoulder casually as if she just hadn’t crashed a poor attempt at a party. Awkwardly, like all the other times Neon’s returned Fade’s clothes back to her, they stand facing each other. Fade gives what Jett later describes as a “white person smile” to Neon and then leaves her room without further fuss.
Or that is what would’ve happened, if Raze didn’t sling an arm around a shoulder and shouted,
“C’mon guys, let’s play a game!” Fade is dragged into this mess, locked into the room as everyone decides that she is now their best friend who is no longer allowed to leave until she is “spewing over the toilet”. Multiple attempts were made to leave the room, but these youngsters are freakishly strong, especially the wind girl who drags her back into her spot whenever she’s in a five metre radius of the door. She’s dragged into a game of truth or dare, a game that children would play at parties that didn’t contain alcohol. She groans, not believing at her big age that she has to go along with this. Hoping that people will get drunk enough to let her leave, she begrudgingly participates, rolling her eyes at the cheers about her participation.
The rules are simple. Sit in a circle, spin the bottle and whoever it lands on has to pick a truth or a dare. They then have to follow through with what they’re given. Jett gives Killjoy a lapdance which has Raze grumbling. Yoru declares how Viper is the hottest (gross, men). Phoenix sings Baby by Justin Bieber with direct eye contact with Yoru. Maybe the alcohol is getting to her, but iit’s not too bad, considering that she has to interact with a bunch of children for the night. She even chuckled a little when Raze tried to do a one armed handstand whilst shotgunning a beer.
But inevitably, the bottle lands on her. She immediately picks dare, unwilling to reveal anything to a bunch of strangers or even humiliate herself in front of Neon.
“Play chicken with Neon!” blue boy bellows. She feels her face go aflame, red from the mere idea of doing something like that with Neon.
“What’s ‘play chicken’?”
“Basically, two people, usually gay, kiss each other until one of them pulls away. The one who pulls away first loses,” Killjoy explains, to which Neon spits out her drink, choking on it until someone pats her back. Blushing, she gives a jumbled response that is a mish mash of English and Tagalog. Shouting from everyone in the room makes Neon shuffle towards Fade, not meeting her eyes the entire journey. When inches away, she finally looks at Fade.
It’s nearly cute how she can’t hide her emotions, how she can see the embarrassment and possible disgust at the fact that she’ll have to physically touch someone like Fade. The vodka that she stole off the table top gives her an unfound confidence. Giving a little smirk, she holds Neon’s waist with one hand and cups the cheek with the other. May as well make it nice for each other.
Their mouths meet and the kiss is chaste as she doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. So it shocks her when two hands grip onto the collar of her shirt as Neon opens her mouth, deepening the kiss. The swirl of a tongue, bite of a lip, she’s losing herself into it. She feels a hand stroke her cheekbone as the other rests lightly on her chest. The commotion from everyone else is muffled, all she can focus on is the mouth on her own, hand on her body, thumb stroking face, it's all too nice, too soft, too good for her. She tears away, covering her face with a hand. Neon looks back at her with a doe eyed look, lightly panting. Her lips are swollen, pupils dilated, she can hear the chatter, she feels the stares, the judgement no, no, no this can’t be happening. She's here to find him, not make out with a pretty girl. She darts out of the room, ignoring the laughter, the questions, the “wait!” that she’s heard for the second time from the same person.
There’s one more thing that she hears before the door slams shut behind her.
“You’re having sex with Fade ?!”.