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One moment, Aaliyah, Cruz, and the small group of guard Aaliyah travels with had been walking through a sterile marble foyer. The next, gunfire had sounded around them, accompanied by the shattering of glass and the sound of a body thumping to the floor. All Cruz had cared about was that it wasn’t Aaliyah who had been hit. Her training had kicked in, and she had corralled Aaliyah to cover, getting them both under the sturdy looking information desk sat in the middle of the large space.
In the surrounding pandemonium, Cruz manages to wonder if Joe should have briefed her on a situation like this before she started this assignment. More likely than not, she had decided that the general instructions she had given Cruz were enough. Even more likely, is that Joe hates her and would love to see her fail with no support. She’s not sure what she did to earn the ire that Joe seems to have for her, to earn whatever the fuck happened on that island. (Sure, Joe had said it was for her own good, but with her ribs still healing and the empty space where a tooth used to be still tender, Cruz isn’t sure she fucking cares what Joe thinks is good for her. She should be able to reach out for help with unexpected developments like this, though the more rational part of her mind knows that would defeat the purpose of being undercover altogether.)
The point remains. She doesn’t know if Joe and the team are coming. Doesn’t know if they’ll be able to get her out of this, if the ‘you’re on your own’ directive applies when the danger isn’t coming from the people she’s trying to fool.
Chaos reigns around them.
Cruz takes short looks above and around the desk, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. It doesn’t look great. The body she heard earlier was one of Aaliyahs’ guards, which means they have three more men between them and whoever started shooting. Not great odds, based on the almost constant sounds of gunfire. The lack of breaks between shots tell Cruz that the attackers are trained enough to reload while their partners fire. (Incidentally, it also means that Cruz has no idea how many bad guys there are, with no way to figure it out without getting a good look at them.)
All Cruz can do now is hope Aaliyah’s guards are competent. Which they should be, given that they work for a terrorist. So. Apparently there are plus sides to getting close to said terrorist’s daughter. In the form of guards who should know how to handle gunfire.
Itching to go help, Cruz forces herself into stillness. She’s a soldier, staying hidden when she knows she can help doesn’t feel right. It’s not a good idea to get in the middle of whatever the fuck is going on. She knows that. Doesn’t help the twitch in her fingers as she imagines returning fire.
One more peek around the desk. She watches one of Aaliyah’s guards go down, winces and ducks back behind cover. Looking towards Aaliyah, Cruz sees the heiress has her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and head down.
“Does this,” Cruz clears her throat, fights the waver in her voice. At least the stress is making her more believable as someone who isn’t used to this sort of situation. “Does this happen a lot?”
Aaliyah shakes her head without moving, but after a moment, she looks up and Cruz blanches. Her normally open, friendly face is lined with terror, fear making her cheeks look sallow and sunken. Tears track down her face as her eyes dart back and forth. Cruz can see the rabbit-fast leap of her pulse in the side of her neck.
Shit, Cruz thinks distantly. Should I be crying? Would Zara be crying?
Her response to high stress situations has been changed by her time in the military, and before that, from her time with him . Trauma’s a bitch, and right now there’s not exactly time to assess how she should be acting to maintain her cover.
The thump of another body interrupts the shooting. It’s distant this time, at least, which should mean one less bad guy.
They need to get out of here. It’s almost inevitable, with only one guard remaining, that the fight will be brought to them. Cruz can only hope they have orders to take Aaliyah in alive. It’ll give Cruz a greater chance of getting them out if the assailants refuse to use lethal force on them. Either way, staying here like sitting ducks isn’t going to help them.
Cruz, based on how two of the guards and only one of the attackers have gone down, is really the only barrier between Aaliyah and whoever the fuck has been gunning for her. Which is definitely great. Not bad for her cover at all and will definitely turn out well. She spares a moment to consider whether Joe would prefer for Cruz to just let herself be captured. It doesn’t seem like a smart idea, but with Joe leading any potential rescue team, she probably expects Cruz to take a bullet with a smile.
She chances another glance at Aaliyah. She’s back in her curled position, shoulders shaking with sobs as the rest of her quivers in fear. Cruz’s heart trips in her chest. Aaliyah looks so small. She’s never seen her this way, and she never wants to see it again.
She’ll take care of Aaliyah. Fuck her cover, fuck Joe, fuck the mission.
Before she can do any planning, the final guard slides into view, luckily looking no worse for wear. Somehow more competent than the others – aware that gathering around the target is best. “We need to get you both out of here,” he says, almost panting from the stress. “If we can get to the elevator, we can hole up there until things are safe.”
It’s as safe as any plan, and Cruz isn’t confident in their ability to reach the front doors without getting shot. Staying in character as much as she can, she nods and tries to look scared. He probably doesn’t care much what happens to her, as his focus is almost solely on Aaliyah. If Aaliyah didn’t care about her, she’s sure he’d be perfectly fine with leaving her to get shot.
Together, though, they get Aaliyah to uncurl and respond to the plan. All the while, Cruz is aware that the attackers are slowly creeping towards them, the footsteps loud on the linoleum.
“I-I think we have to go,” Cruz says, forcing a waver into her voice so she doesn’t bark orders at him like she wants. “I can hear them coming.”
The guard nods. “On three.”
The countdown. A quick burst from cover. A few moments of hope as the plan starts to work before everything comes crashing down around them.
Cruz, as if everything has shifted into slow motion, watches an attacker grab the guard as he ushers them forwards. A vicious movement sends the butt of his rifle into the guard’s face. Blood sprays from his crushed nose in an arc, shining like rubies in the afternoon sun. The guard crumbles like a wet napkin, out cold.
crumbles like a wet napkin, out cold.
The man turns to Aaliyah and Cruz’s vision turns red. Aaliyah screams, Cruz thinks. She can’t be sure as her world has narrowed to the sound of her heartbeat and the feeling of flesh under her knuckles. She takes down two men – definitely breaking a few bones as she does – before she’s able to get her hands on a gun. She takes potshots at the remaining men as she tries to herd Aaliyah towards the elevators. Years of training at the gun range come in handy. Even if she’s not trying too hard to do anything beyond lay down suppressing fire, she still manages to take down two more men. Behind her, she hears the ding of the arriving elevator.
Cruz crowds Aaliyah into the space, pushing her into the corner as she presses a random floor and repeatedly jams at the close door button. She slowed them down, but there’s no way she incapacitated all of them. The best she can hope for now is getting them out of danger until someone comes to clean up the mess.
The doors finally slide closed. Just in time too, as Cruz watches one of the assailants – a big man she flipped to the ground – stand with a truly murderous expression on his face. It’s too late to stop them from leaving, but he makes eye contact with Cruz just before the doors slide closed and she can’t help the frisson of fear that races down her spine.
When they’ve gone up about a floor and some change, Cruz pulls the emergency stop. The elevator clunks to a stop, the jerky movement sending Cruz off balance.
“What the fuck is going on?” comes Aaliyah’s half-hysterical voice. She’s still standing in the corner where Cruz put her, hands white knuckling the railing. “What was that?”
“Fuck,” she says, slipping more into Zara than Cruz. “I don’t fucking know! Those guys attacked us, I was just trying to get out of there.”
She wipes a hand down her face and does her best to look as confused and scared as Aaliyah seems. “I don’t know what’s going on. Do you get a-attacked like that a lot?”
The stutter is only partially intentional. There’s a part of her, the part that cares more than she should, the part that she’s trying to repress, that cares about Aaliyah’s safety, that wants to crush any danger that comes her way.
Aaliyah bypasses Cruz’s question all together. “How did you do that? You fought all of those men and won . What is going on?”
Aaliyah is looking at her like she’s a stranger, like she needs to be equally as wary of Cruz as she was of her attackers. Cruz goes to step forward, but even the suggestion of forward momentum has Aaliyah pressing herself deeper into the corner.
Cruz winces. Her heart aches at the sight of Aaliyah’s fear and newfound distrust. She was just trying to help .
“I told you I used to box. I - I guess it just came out.” Cruz shrugs. “Muscle memory or something.”
“You handled the gun very well for just taking normal boxing classes .” Aaliyah narrows her eyes at Cruz.
Cruz doesn’t know how to make this better. She did what she had to – she isn’t going to regret that she saved them just because Aaliyah is scared of her now.
Not knowing what else to do, Cruz tries to get close to Aaliyah again. She lifts a hand, gingerly reaching out to Aaliyah. When she doesn’t flinch away or try to stop Cruz’s movements, Cruz rests her palm along the curve of Aaliyah’s jaw. “What matters is that I’ll protect you, okay? Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Some of the tension melts out of Aaliyah’s tense shoulders, and Cruz’s heart flutters as Aaliyah’s eyes slowly shut, her face tilting to rest more fully in Cruz’s palm. After a moment, Cruz says fuck it to all her hang ups and pulls Aaliyah to her chest, dropping her hand from her face to bring her fully into a hug. Aaliyah breathes out shakily, all of her still quivering with leftover fear and adrenaline. After a little while, though, she relaxes into Cruz’s arms, returning the hug with strong arms wrapped around Cruz’s waist.
Aaliyah trusts so easily. She believes in the good of the world, even when she comes face to face with the bad. Cruz wishes she was more deserving of the easy forgiveness, of the way Aaliyah moves past her unease to fully believe in what Cruz says.
“Thank you, Zara,” she says.
Cruz swallows past the bile that rises at the reminder of her purpose, at the reminder of just how much she’s going to hurt Aaliyah at the end of all this. One day Zara will be unable to protect Aaliyah, and all that’s left will be Cruz and the bloody remains of all that they’re building between them.