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The problem is… Baghera’s so happy for Jaiden. Her wings are the most gorgeous she’s ever seen — like an iridescent dawn, still speckled with stars. When she’s been given the blessing of preening them, it feels like combing through silk. And god, when she flies…
They’re big, strong wings. Jaiden soars effortlessly, weaving between the favela’s many buildings. The Brazillains laugh and tell her to do a barrel roll, and Baghera can only fold closer to herself, watching from the ground.
She’s so happy for Jaiden, but she wishes she were up there too. Not sat on the steps watching from the ground. Yet no matter how much she wants to, she can’t.
“You too, huh?”
Baghera nearly jumps out of her skin. Phil’s always so damn quiet, and he seems to take a lot of joy in it, as he merely chuckles at her glare.
“...It’s hard,” he continues, his smile turning wistful. “Often, I just…”
After a moment’s hesitation, Phil sits beside her, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He tilts his head up toward the sky.
“...Sit and stare.”
Baghera watches him from the corner of her eye. “You flew a lot, then? Before this place, I mean.”
He nods.
She worries her lip with a canine, debating her next words.
“I, uhm…”
Phil waits patiently for her. His eyes crinkle, tracking Jaiden as she performs her own sky circus.
“...Couldn’t,” she finishes lamely. “Uh, yeah. Never.”
Phil speaks without taking his eyes off Jaiden. “What happened?”
Instead of responding, Baghera shrugs off her sweater, leaving her in just her undershirt. She spreads her wings through the gaps she cut, though there’s not much to show. They’re sad, stunted things, barely spanning two feet from her back to each feathertip. What growth there is consists mostly of useless down, with only a few primaries sticking out the ends like they’d been haphazardly glued on.
Phil reaches out a hand, seemingly unconsciously, as a second later he pulls it back. “Sorry,” he says hurriedly. “I didn’t–”
“It’s okay,” Baghera cuts him off, smiling sadly. “You can look.”
Phil watches her for a moment, eyes searching. Then he nods.
His hands ghost over her back, never quite touching. Baghera’s not quite sure if she wishes he would or not. One one hand, she knows her wings are unpleasant not only to look at but to touch. On the other hand, she craves the contact like water in a drought.
Neither side has a chance to win before Phil speaks again.
“There are scars here,” he says softly. Baghera cranes her neck over her shoulder to see him gesturing near the base of her wings.
“I know,” Baghera replies. “They’re all over my wings, too. I think that’s part of… you know.”
Phil purses his lips, deep in thought. “That’s the thing,” he says. “Even then, feathers can grow through scar tissue. I… I have this theory, Baghera.”
Baghera retracts her wings and shifts to face Phil fully. “Yeah?”
“You already know, but my wings, too…” he reveals a bit of black feather from beneath his cloak. Baghera observes the clipped ends grimly. “They won’t grow back. I’ve tried everything, Baghera. The rest are fine but the one part that lets me fly…”
Phil pauses. Baghera looks away respectfully. Phil isn’t usually an emotional man, so she wants to give him his space.
“It’s the Federation,” he spits. “It has to be. Them or whatever they’ve done with this island is fucking with us. And if, somehow, we can get out, then I think…”
Phil looks at the sky. Jaiden is doing nosedives, seeing how close she can come to the ground before pulling up.
Baghera remembers.
Flashes of white and red. Pain, then comfort, then pain again. A cycle. Unsure, but also complacent. Wanting? Needing? Why her? Laughter ringing down the halls, long, long halls. Then, for the first time, the sky, and then…
It slips away again.
“They did something to me,” she tells Phil in barely more than a whisper. “I can’t remember. But I know I’ve been here before, maybe… maybe I even…”
Baghera feels her lip wobble dangerously, but she chokes back the feeling. She meets Phil’s eyes, his old, understanding eyes, and can’t help but spill it all.
“God, Phil,” she croaks. “What happened to me?”
Baghera cries. Some part of her that needed the release feels like it’s breathing for the first time, though the rest just feels awful and wet and snotty.
Phil sits with her while everything runs its course. She pretends not to see when a single tear slips down his face, too.