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It starts, as it always does, with a cold. Working in a tight knit office means it spreads like wildfire, wiping out a majority of the staff at such a rapid rate that there is no room for overlap.
Unfortunately, the villains of L.A. weren't taking a break, so neither was Roberta "Birdie" Robertson.
Entering SDN in her oversized baby blue button down, she shuffles her way over to her desk in a daze.
She's on so much cold medicine that she's not completely sure if this is real or not, but the second she sinks into her chair Blazer pops out from the record room with a harried expression on her normally flawless face.
"Thank god you're here, Birdie." Blazer seems oblivious to the baggy sweats and sloppy bun she's thrown her strawberry blonde hair into. "The whole floor has called out! It's just Chase, you, and me manning the lines today."
Chase rises from his side of the cubicle, wearing a mask and holding a can of lysol. "And don't even think about breathing in my direction. Being old has shot my immunity to shit."
"I won't," she shifts, grabbing a box of tissues.
"Oh fuck! It's gotten to her as well," Chase turns to the blonde superhero.
Blazer strides over, concern evident in her bright blue eyes. "Will you be okay?"
She wants to tell Blazer no and beg to go back home where she can crawl into her makeshift nest, but the superhero looks so frazzled. As much as Birdie wants to go back to sleep, she can't abandon someone in need. It's just not in her nature.
"Yeah," she nods. "I'll be fine."
Of course, as soon as the words come out of her mouth the AC kicks on. She nearly whimpers in misery, already cold on the dreary morning. But she refrains from complaining, traumatized from those years at MIT where she was the only girl in her program and any sort of complaint felt like a weakness.
She ignores her discomfort by grabbing her headphones and hovering close to the computer. Booting up the program, she logs into the system and stares at the digitized map of Torrence.
One by one members of the Z team begin logging in, their banter filling her ears. She winces at the loud noise, and pulls up the dispatch call log.
"Alright guys," she drawls, putting an end to a discussion about music. "Let's get started."
"Oh damn, gurl!" Prism shouts over the line. "You sound seven kinds of fucked up."
She rolls her eyes as the team begins making comments over the line.
"You sound like that actress," Visi chuckles. "The one with the super raspy voice. What's her name?"
"Sophia Bush," Mal supplies.
"Oi, I've had my fair share of wet dreams about Miss Bush," Punch Up chuckles. "That's a bush I wouldn't want to miss, if you get my meaning."
Laughter fills her ears as the remainder of the team chime in. All except Flambae who is still quiet. He must still be pissed about her being Mecha Man. At least he came in today.
"Alright, cut the shit guys," she cuts them off. "We've got a lot of calls today. So, let's get started."
And so it begins. For the entire morning, she delegates the Z team and helps where she can, lending her tech skills.
Chase takes the first lunch break, spraying lysol everywhere he goes. Blazer goes second, promising to pick up something from Johnny's for her.
But Birdie doesn't want Johnny's or any food for that matter. All she craves is to curl up under a warm blanket and sleep for the next decade. Unfortunately, she doesn't get what she wants.
And to make matters worse, Blonde Blazer is waylaid by a villain wrecking havoc a few blocks away. So, Birdie sends the Z team to lunch and logs onto Blazer's team, giving them an update on the blonde's delay. Then, she begins to coordinate them.
There's a bit of a lull in the dispatches which is right around the time the cold medicine wears off, and boy does she feel rough. Worse than going ten rounds with the Red Ring rough.
Slumping over her desk, she tries to relieve the pounding in her head as the AC kicks on again. Cold air flows down, causing her to violently shiver.
"Jesus, you look worse than you sound," Visi declares as the tea, pours in.
It's a testament to how bad she must be feeling because she doesn't have the energy to form a witty retort nor does she flip off the invisible pain in her ass.
The team circles her cubicle like she's some sort of zoo exhibit. Once again, she can't find it in herself to care.
"You really do look terrible," Coupe states in that detached tone, turning to Punch. "Why does she look terrible?"
"Aye think the lass is sick," Punch supplies. "The real head scratcher is why she's here and not home resting."
Chase, the nosey bastard, peeks over the top of their divider. "You shut your mouth you limey piece of... Oh shit! Birdie, you look worse than when you came in this morning."
"Hold up," Sonar crosses his arms over his chest. "You knew she was sick and you still made her stay? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"The fuck is wrong with me?" Chase snaps. "Have you seen this fucking place? It's a mother fucking ghost town, and we're operating with a fucking skeleton crew."
Normally, she finds Chase's rants amusing, but today it's like an ice pick to her brain. It doesn't help the dispatch notification goes off in her ear with an incoming call. She lets out a groan, turning back to her computer.
Almost in a daze, she takes note of what's needed and assigns the call. With the hero on the move, she mutes her end and drops her head onto the desk with a thud.
"Blonde Blazer can't be serious about her staying," Visi pauses, looking around with a frown. "Where is she anyway?"
"She went to lunch but got pulled away by some incompetent dickheads," Chase replies.
Prism hisses, enraged on her behalf. "You mean Birdie hasn't even gotten lunch yet?"
"Damn, that's cold." Golem rumbles from the back.
She groans again at the loud baritone of his voice and the growing noises. She wishes everyone would just shut up and go somewhere else.
"I'll get her some twinkies from the vending machine. That'll cheer her up," Chase declares, removing his headset.
"Are you fucking insane?" Visi shouts. "I'm no rocket scientist but even I know junk food is the last thing a sick person needs."
"Well shit, I don't know what to do." Chases hisses. "I never took care of her ass when she was sick."
No, he didn't. That was Shroud, but she doesn't say that. Instead, she shivers.
"Stand to the side people," Flambae pushes his way through the small crowd.
He turns her chair, and presses his forearm against her forehead. It takes him a fraction of a second to get a read on her temperature. "Shit! She has a fever!"
His skin is so hot against hers. The first warm thing she's felt since crawling out from underneath her little blanket fort she's been using as her bed in lieu of the chair.
She automatically leans into him, chasing the sensation and nearly face plants when he starts to step back.
"N-No," she whimpers. "S-So c-cold."
"What?" He sounds confused.
She reaches out, grabbing both of his arms to wrap around her. Then, she burrows into his chest, savoring the warmth emanating from his body.
"Warm," she practically purs in contentment.
"Ugh, guys," Sonar drawls, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "Did my molly kick in? Or am I really seeing Birdie cuddle Flambae?"
"I'm seeing it as well, bat boner." Chase tugs on his mask. "Maybe Mr. Whiskey spiked the coffee pot again."
The Z team and Chase exchange barbs, but she doesn't pay attention to a single thing. She's more concerned with trying to steal more of Flambae's warmth. Climbing him like a tree crosses her mind for a brief second, but he pulls back before she can weigh the pros and cons.
She nearly whines at the loss of contact, instead grabbing his hands and securing them around her once more.
"Ghost town or not, she shouldn't be here," Flambae states, glaring in Chase's direction.
Chase makes that noise he does when he's frustrated. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? It's not like I can call the National Fucking Guard."
Flambae curses in Dari. "You have back ups for when we’re injured."
"Yeah," Mal strolls in with her massive sword slung over her shoulder. "It's kind of fucked up you can't cover your own people."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm more than aware of how unfair life is. I'll read Blazer the riot act later," Chase huffs. "But until then, we need every dispatcher we can get."
As if on cue, her computer lets out a series of beeps as more calls come in. She exhales in annoyance, pulling away from Flambae and turning towards her computer.
Firm, fiery hands grasp on to her shoulder, stopping her. Those same hands gently reach up and remove her headset.
"Oh no you don't," Flambae scolds, ember eyes glowing with warmth. "You are clocking and getting some rest."
"But... the lines..." she murmurs through her exhaustion.
"Sonar?" He calls over her shoulder.
"On it," Sonar loosens his ties and steps forward, taking the offered headset.
Flambae ducks low, sliding one muscled arm under her legs while the other encircles her waist. he lifts her off the chair like she weighs nothing, cradling her close to his chest.
"Shit Birdie," he hisses. "How are you so skinny when all you eat is junk food?"
She shrugs, too tired to keep her head up and leans against his broad chest. "Maybe I've got a superior metabolism?"
Or a tendency to forget to feed herself.
"No wonder your flat ass got sick," Flambae tuts, carrying her away from the cubicle. "Twinkies are not a food group."
"I beg to differ," she weakly retorts.
Flambae snorts, pausing by the break room. Mal hovers close, resting her sword against the wall.
"I opened a portal to the store," Mal informs him. "Coup and Punch are getting the essentials and will meet you at her place."
Birdie didn’t even notice the couple had disappeared. She really must be sick if observation skills have gone to shit.
Flambae hums in thought, then spares her a glance. "Send them to mine instead. I doubt she has a proper bed."
She wants to argue, but the look he sends her says 'tell me I'm wrong' and she can't. It brings her shame to admit that the only piece of furniture that isn't for Beef is a cheap plastic chair she found while dumpster diving for parts.
"I'll send them a text and have Visi check on Beef," Mal nods, creating another portal for them. "We'll hold down the fort. Take care of our girl, yeah?"
Flambae thanks her, stepping through the rift and into a spacious warehouse loft, bathed in the grey light of the gloomy day. The portal closes with a feint pop and he carries her over to an overstuffed couch.
"I'm going to leave you here for a minute and start a bath for you," he explains, grabbing a warm saffron colored blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around her. "Just call my name if you need something."
His kindness is to much. She starts to cry, much to his horror, but she can't help it.
It's been so long since anyone has taken care of her. And the last person that did... well, it kills her to think about him.
"Why are you upset?" He asks, seeming panicked. "Is it the blanket? Or maybe it's the-"
She sniffs, interrupting him. "I've b-been s-so t-terrible t-to you... I d-don't deserve y-your kindness."
"Probably not," he says sarcastically. "But you're going to get it anyway."
Tears spill down her cheek as her lips tremble. "W-why?"
"Because we're a team. We have each others backs," his thumb brushes away her tears. "Plus, if you think about it, I can lord this over you in the future."
She snorts, easily seeing him do that. "You're diabolical."
"Don't you forget it," he winks.
He tucks the blanket around her and even fluffs a couple of the pillows. It so different from the Flambae she knows. For a moment, she’s convinced the Red Ring replaced him with a clone. Then, he opens his mouth, and all her worries evaporate.
"Now, shut the fuck up and save your energy," he rises to his full height, easily towering over her. "You've got to get better for all our sakes."
He mutters something under his breath about the team killing each other if she's not there to keep the peace. It's oddly touching, and the nicest thing he's probably ever said to her.
"Okay," she nods, doubtful she'll ever get used to someone taking care of her.
But, she's certainly going to try.