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"How'd that Gallipoli movie end up?"
"He got the call to go over the top and storm the Turkish lines."
"Okay, and what happens when he makes it back?"
"... he doesn't."
-DeShawn Jackson and Evie Cooper
***
Standing in the woods outside the Wellness Retreat and having a run-in with death for the fifth time this year, DeShawn comes to a realization:
Evie's eyes have flecks of green in them.
They aren't just brown- though, saying 'just brown' is stupid, he realizes, because brown eyes are inherently his favorite- and they sparkle, even when she's afraid.
She hides her fear well most days, placed delicately under a child-like demeanor that stems from her past. She doesn't talk about it, either; chooses to keep it all locked up inside of herself like she does with her drawer. The same drawer he broke into without her permission, fracturing their already stressed relationship.
But here, it doesn't matter.
Here, she is simply Evie. His partner. His friend.
And she is about to die.
"On your knees," Axeman growls. The gun in his hand clicks with every movement. "Now."
"Turn around and face them," Dee whispers, because there's a code he lives by: don't make it easy for the bad guys to dispose of you. Make their job as difficult and tedious as possible, dead weight and eye contact, so they suffer the entire time. Evie nods- on it- and when they turn, they do so together.
They're met with two leering smiles and one nervous frown. Finn doesn't seem too keen to participate, as evidenced by his averted gaze. Maybe Dee can use that to his advantage.
"If you're going to kill us, you're going to have to look us in the eyes while you do it."
"Tough guy, huh?" Axeman spits, wipes his mouth. "All talk and no bite. Couldn't even manage hell week."
Evie scoffs, "you're one to talk. The only way you could make it through, right? Was 'roids and pills and all that?" Axeman's face goes red. "... like wusses. Dee's not the one with shortcomings, you lot are. So, how about you go stuff it with all the bloody alpha male ta-"
She goes down hard.
The butt of the gun smashes into her face without mercy and when her knees collide with the Earth, her grunt is akin to that of a wounded animal. DeShawn panics, "Shit- Evie," but is held back by Scalpel's looming threat, 'you touch her, she dies.'
"I'm good," Evie answers, still groaning. "At ease... at ease, matey."
With a shaky laugh and a face full of shoddy confidence, she wipes the blood off her bottom lip and pulls herself to her feet. "Right as rain, Dee. Never felt more alive."
She spits on Scalpel's shoe to reiterate her point, doesn't even flinch when the barrel of the AK presses into her head. A rush of pride fills Dee's chest.
That's my girl.
She isn't of course. She's her own person, not his. Not anyone's. Doesn't belong to anyone- but Finn mentions something about 'evening the odds,' and Evie's lopsided scowl has DeShawn feeling strange. Her teeth are bloody, stained, angry... with eyes urging Axeman to do his worst.
I could rush him, Dee thinks. He could take him by surprise and give her time to escape.
I'd die, she'd live...
He tosses that thought straight away. Adrenaline is a bitch when it comes to thinking clear. Makes it hard to focus. Especially when you're about to get murdered, so when the guns are thrown onto the grass, he fumbles for one immediately. Evie goes for the other. Her fingers touch the handle and Dee's optimism rises a few notches.
Then the counting starts up, an indication that the games have begun.
"One... two... three..."
His heart sinks. "Come on," he whispers. "As fast as you can-" and they take off for the trees.
"Ooooh ring my bell..."
"There's something you should know."
"What?"
"I've shot a lot of things, Dee. But people... I've never fired my gun at a living, breathing person before-"
"... ring my bell..."
"- also that song used to be my favorite and now they've killed it completely."
"Evie, focus."
"Come out, come out wherever you are..."
"I've got an idea. We got this. Steel springs, right? Steel springs."
"Steel springs-"
"With me-"
"Always."
The game of psychotic paintball ends like its meant to.
JD comes storming in like a maniac. Evie shoots her first person. Axeman goes into the ambulance with a curse on his lips, Finn says something about 'seals,' which Evie translates sarcastically, and Mackey gives Dee a hug.
She helps him zip up his jacket, being careful to avoid his neck and face.
"You okay?" she asks, looking him over. He nods.
"Will be."
The sirens are already gone, speeding off into the city, leaving the night quiet. The fight is over. The zipper closes followed by pressure on his chest: a hand resting near the pocket. "And her?" Makey doesn't gesture to where Evie and JD are speaking, but the indication is clear in her face. She's chewing on her lip, eyes heavy.
"Should I be worried?"
"Nah... I've got her. It's a partner thing, you know?"
They clap, fist bump, snap- and Mackey smirks. "Oh. I know." She beckons to JD with her head, already fishing the keys from her pocket as she gives Dee one last parting wink. "Don't remind me about the downgrade."
"No can do, Boss. I'll be on your ass about it for the rest of time. Every. Single. Day. And that's a promise-"
"Get in the damn car, Jackson."
DeShawn waves. "I'm going, I'm going." He bows to reiterate- his usual move- but it's a poor choice. His muscles ache too much to get back up, and he's about to holler for help when arms wrap themselves under his.
They pull gently with purpose. Dejavu.
"Come on, tough guy. Let's get you home."
"Oooh, you taking me home?"
Evie's lips brush against his cheek, leading him forward. "Just this once, yeah? Don't get used to it."
"Alright, alright..."
He puts half his weight on her, too tired to compensate. Together they walk arm and arm to the car, his side first. She doesn't make him open the door. She doesn't hit him on the shoulder when she says something important and he replies, "huh?" and she doesn't rush him, even though he knows she wants to get out of this place as soon as possible.
She's a gentleman- er, gentlewoman- in every sense of the word. Even switches to his music when she starts up the car...
It's a surprise, given her usual remarks regarding his taste in artists. (Their shared playlist is maybe 32% similar.) The down beats of Lila Ike fill the air, and then she drives, both of her hands on the wheel like it's her anchor.
The lights decorate her face in patterns, the way only a highway can. Yellows, purples, reds... coming, staying and going... her mascara is smudged, which bothers her. She pretends like it doesn't; like all of this is normal and she's unphased and chill and cool, but he knows she's barely holding herself together.
No time like the present. "Evie?"
She sniffs, wipes her nose. "Uh yeah? Yeah, what is it? You need to stop somewhere or more Apohealth?"
Her tone shifts high, deer in the headlights as she ramps herself up, "I think there's some in the console, bandages too, maybe. Or cough drops or chewy- no." She swallows. "No gum, sorry. I just... I don't think I... I can't..."
"No gum," DeShawn agrees. No gum for a long time, but Evie doesn't hear.
She's still listing items, "... also tissues... bought a few pocket packs just in case. And a water, but it's off-brand. I knew I shouldn't have gotten off-brand, doesn't taste as good. Was on sale, though, so I had to, you know?"
"I know."
"And a pointless manicure kit. There's a bunch of things in there- it's stupid. Don't know why I have it, practically worthless. Didn't even save us with the stupid tech gala..."
Dee stops her. "Hey- no. Don't do that."
"Do what?" she asks, vitriol spilling over. "Tell the truth? Admit that I'm... I dunno. A fuckwit... shitty freaking partner and you almost died because of it? Because of me."
Her voice breaks at the end. Shattering what's left of her composure and pouring everything she needs to say out of her heart and into her mouth.
"You needed me, Dee; needed something from me and I couldn't give it to you. Couldn't conserve my ammo, almost got shot coming down the stupid line. And I couldn't fucking kill him either." She digs her nails into the leather with a choked sob. "The one thing I'm supposed to be able to do, you know? My whole job, everything... can shoot a flipping target from a kilo away, but not a double tap to the chest, right? Like that's super helpful when your best friend is getting bloody beaten to death by a psycho. I just. I'm... fuck, what am I doing?"
Her swallow is loud, but her voice drops. So quiet, he almost can't hear her.
"I'm sorry," she whispers into the steering wheel. "I'm just... shit. I'm so sorry."
I'm so sorry.
Like with Kane. And the drawer. And the apologies stacked up higher than Blue's pile of miscellaneous textbooks. He almost asks her, "why."
Why is she always sorry? Is it for saving one life without ending another? For wanting softness... always trying to settle things with words and jokes; using violence as a last resort instead of jumping to brute force first?
It makes no sense, and as she continues to apologize, DeShawn feels this overwhelming urge to shake her; to tell her how much she means to him. How the shadows paint her face and how when she smiles, it sometimes feels like his whole world is exploding into fractals of light, bringing vibrant color into his usual gray and red. But she won't understand. She won't get it. Not like he needs her to. Maybe not ever and especially not tonight.
So, he does the next best thing.
He waits until she's glancing at him to place the back of his hand on the console. Hiding the grimace is difficult considering his wrist is sprained to hell, but he manages to smile to get his point across.
She shakes her head, still teary-eyed. "No."
"Come on," he says, and he can't help but wink at her. "You know you want to."
"That's not going to work this time."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't... it's not- I haven't..."
The air goes heavy. Dee doesn't say anything further. He takes it all in stride; Evie brushing strands of gold from her eyes. Self-deprecation draped all over her body, with a chest expanding and collapsing, slower and slower each breath until it's almost in time with the music. "I thought you sprained that hand," she finally murmurs. "When you hit him. Could've sworn I heard it crack or something."
DeShawn hums, wiggles his fingers. "Nah, that was my other one."
"You're a god-awful liar."
"I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are," Evie sighs. "You just did it again... should probably push you out of the car for that or threaten your life."
"You're violent, you know that?"
"Yeah? Well, you're heaps infuriating. Like, the biggest dick I've ever had to work with. And yeah, that includes JD and Mackey or whatever. Not Blue, though... never Blue."
She looks down. Looks up. Blinks slowly and turns her eyes to the road, and then she moves tentatively, almost nervous. Her hand threads into his and when they lock fingers, Dee swears the world gets lighter.
Evie relaxes almost immediately. It takes DeShawn a little longer.
He goes loose under his seatbelt, and it hits him hard: her touch. Like he's being seen for the first time.
Her rings are cool- a sharp contrast to her palm. Her thumb rubs over his without thought and he closes his eyes. He lets the music lull... the car rumble... allows Evie to disconnect and connect their hands at will whenever she feels the need. There are turns, of course. She drives like she's perpetually late and his body jostles every once in a while, but nothing is indicative of panic. The rest of the ride is filled only with the sounds of acoustics and by the time they arrive at DeShawn's apartment it's already close to eight.
His heart sinks.
"Thanks for the ride," he says, giving her hand a squeeze. He'll take what he can get before the dream is over. "See you tomorrow?"
"No."
"... what?"
She recognizes his panic and quickly adds, "see you tonight. We're uh- we're getting takeaway and watching a movie."
"... we are?"
Hand still in his, she nods sharply. "Deffo. I get to pick the place, though. Cause you're shit at choosing."
"What do you mean you're picking the place? I have better taste in food than you."
"Yeah?" Evie snorts. "Good on'ya."
"Seriously? I'm injured." DeShawn fakes a moan. "I'm bleeding out all over the floor, 'n getting blood everywhere. Look at me."
Evie does. She looks at him real hard, pretends she's lowering her nonexistent glasses and everything. Her smile is loose, the tension is gone from her face, and once she's had a good inspection, her eyes connect with his. "If you pick the food," she says with a tiny smirk. "Then you have to pay. Those are the rules."
"Those rules are made up."
"All rules are made up," she says wisely. She taps the window. "And if you want me to help you get all the way up there, you better give in quick."
Damn it.
DeShawn does just that. "Alright, fine. Fine. Horrible tasteless Aussie garbage it is-"
Evie celebrates with her fist to her chest. "Boo. Yah!" Her glee inevitably leaves his hand empty, but he doesn't mind, too busy trying not to stare to fully gauge the loss, and besides, when she unbuckles her seatbelt, he's the one who gets the last laugh.
"I get to pick the movie, though. My house, my couch..." He lowers his chin. "I think I've got the perfect one, too. With dead soldiers and springs and everything."
Evie's eyes narrow. "... you wouldn't dare."
He would. "I would."
"Anything but that."
"You're choosing tasteless food, but I can't pick a slightly traumatic movie with ironic context? How is that fair?" and there's a pause. Evie's smile goes wicked. She waves her hand, nails glinting pink in the sunset, "You want to hold my hand," she's saying. "You pick something else," and Dee can read the signs.
"Crocodile Dundee, then," he says. "But you can only roast it like five times."
"Ten."
"Seven."
"Nine. And I get to laugh as much as I want."
"Deal." DeShawn reaches out his arm. Evie shakes it gently. She doesn't release her hand from his and he can't bring himself to pull away from her either. Until finally, the aching in his wrist forces him away. They're treading the line. He knows it. She knows it... but treading isn't crossing, and that makes all the difference.
Evie murmurs, "you're such a softy. Your eyes are literally oozing with goop right now." She opens the car door. "Come on. If you promise to take your pain meds, I might even let you hug me." As she steps out, her words repeat in DeShawn's ears. "You're a softy..." but it isn't malicious like BUD/S was.
It's completely different.
It leaves him... satisfied? No- happy. At peace, that's it, peaceful. Calm. And he whispers consciously under his breath, "just for you."
She doesn't hear him, of course. She's already out of the car and walking to him from around the bumper. No doubt to help him stand up straight; support him the whole three flights of stairs huffing and puffing. Where she'll fake complain the whole time and tell him he's heavy as a kangaroo or some other random Australian animal.
She'll make fun of him forever, probably. As long as they're partners... apologize, laugh, fib, apologize again and tell him he's stupid when he's being stupid.
It's perfect, DeShawn decides.
The door opens. Evie beckons him forward with a finger, places an arm under his, and nuzzles quietly under his shoulder the entire way home.
He wouldn't have it any other way.