who_is_she

The job had started as a salvage tip about an old mansion someone had built on a moon who knows how long ago. At first it seemed promising--the multiple room-sized safes dotted over the ruins of a gigantic, sprawling mansion kind of promising--but then the safes were all locked and there was no way around the locks except to find the key. The only clue they uncovered after several days of searching was the remnants of the AI that had ran the house. The AI was not in working order but Ajax was able to dig up some of its memory banks, and with a little heavy lifting they brought the banks onto the ship. The next hurtle came when they realized they couldn't simply plug the memories into the ship; they were far too complicated-- closer to the inner workings of the organic brain than their computers. That's when Tony had an idea.

"So, in theory, I plug these memories into your synthetics, then with this," Tony gestures to the goofy-looking headset he's wearing, the one that has taken nearly an hour to get on, "I'll be able to hear them through your... processors, I guess? That sounded less than competent. I'll just be able to hear them." Tony sighs, raising his hand to brush his fingers through his hair but stopping short, as he'd forgotten about the headset.

"I guess this is kind of... experimental. You just... you'll let me know if you feel weird at any point, okay?" Tony's expression creases with worry as he leans down to look Roddie in the eye.

The alarms start blaring and he starts, turning away from his station to look at the flashing light. He shares a look with the soldier next to him, but doesn't have time to do anything else before yelling starts to echo down towards them.

"Reinforcements! We need reinforcements!"

"This is clerical support," says his superior, confused and startled.

"Not anymore," says the officer, "They've all been changed to troopers. We need reinforcements. The cargo must not be compromised at any cost."

The full meaning of that sentence doesn't occur to him until after he's been ushered into armor and handed a blaster, then made to stand awkwardly next to a group of other recently-promoted troopers. He realizes what that officer meant by cost, she meant him, she meant them, and not one of them has combat training. He realizes with dawning horror that this must be some kind of last-ditch effort to save the important people on the transport, at the cost of all the unimportant personnel.

He's not sure if he's the only one who's come to this conclusion, as these helmets cover a hell of a lot, and he doesn't have time to talk about it as the moment the blast doors open all he can hear, all he can consider is the screaming and the blaster fire. They all rush out together, someone's shouting orders but he can't make sense of it in the chaos. The ground is already strewn with white-armored bodies, and the rebels are shooting at them from behind the cover of a few collapsed buildings. They're clearly at a disadvantage, and his blaster hangs limply from his hands as his head spins.

They sent him out here to die. To last for a few minutes maybe, just enough time to get the ship going. That's what he's worth. A few minutes.

The terror is consuming and the blood is everywhere. His allies are dropping like flies around him, screaming, shrieking flies, and his vision starts to darken.

The last thing he sees before he falls is the head of the trooper in front of him exploding in a shower of gristle, and he's glad for the unconsciousness that takes him.

Conner's favorite part of his job was the time he got to spend within range of his favorite radio station. He'd discovered it a few years ago, when he'd been spending a miserable night hiding out under a lean-to to wait out a thunder storm. The only thing he had to distract him was the tinny tune on the radio. It wasn't that the radio played his favorite songs, it was more about the announcer who came on every so often. He'd made Conner laugh even when he was freezing and wet, and still made him laugh all the time. The guy was awkward, and a little strange, but seemed so sweet and caring too. He seemed afraid a lot-- but in the world they lived in, his fear was founded.

Conner didn't even know his name, because he never said it on the air, only the name of the station. He had figured out where the station was, though, and maybe if he'd wandered around the perimeter of the little shack whenever he was nearby, well, it wasn't like anybody knew.

The station had come to mean so much to Conner, had so often been the light in a dark situation for him, that he'd never been able to get up the nerve to actually meet the guy. He was half afraid the whole thing was just an act, just some actor's radio persona, and the sweet, awkward guy who apologized for his jokes was just a parody that Conner didn't get.

But it had been so long, and the announcer was so consistent that Conner felt there was no way he wasn't real. Actually taking to him had to be weird, though, when Conner had developed such a huge crush on a disembodied voice.

So he just listened, and laughed at his jokes, and took all the jobs he could within range of the station.

Then all at once that changed.

Conner's finger was quick on the volume knob on his pip-boy when he heard the announcer's voice tinged with panic. It wasn't that unusual, but Conner always listened carefully when it happened, his heart aching for the voice. This time was different, though, as the announcer shakily explained that he was being attacked and begged for help.

Conner was on his feet with his pistol in his hand before the announcer had even said the word "help".

It had been a couple months since Farhel's stint in the hospital had landed him a roommate, and he was pretty sure Then hated him. It was a shame, really, because Farhel thought he was a genuinely good guy, if a little strange, and smoking hot to boot. But Farhel supposed his lifestyle wasn't the easiest to live with.

But annoyances aside, Then didn't seem to leave his room for anything outside of work, so Farhel had kind of taken to... following him around. Under other circumstances Farhel would have left it alone and let Then despise him in peace, but Then seemed genuinely miserable. Whenever he was puttering around the kitchen or making up excuses for why he couldn't watch Say Yes to the Dress with Farhel he just... didn't seem content being alone, despite his objections. And it had been a few months, and recovering from an appendectomy was officially no longer an acceptable excuse.

Farhel knew there was at least one person at the mall Then would talk to, and Farhel had a few more in mind that he might be less annoyed by.

So he'd dragged himself out of bed, put his hair up in a messy bun and took off to meet Then at the mall just before his shift ended. He got held up by the skateboarders out back, and after conducting dinner business he made his way into Macy's. He strolled into the back rooms, ignoring whatever "employees only" signs he passed. He found Then alone in the back, unloading a huge box of shoes. Farhel held back for half a moment, his walk slowing as he watched Then's muscles flex under his tight work shirt as he lifted the boxes. Farhel cleared his throat before what he was doing could be classified as "ogling".

"Hey, Then!" He greeted cheerily, hosting himself up to sit on a box nearby, "How's your day going? Good? Busy? Great?" he asked, grinning.

It seems like it takes a really long time for everyone to decide it's time to get some rest. Rhys is glad for it, really, because the last year or two have been hard and he's just really, really glad to be around his friends again. He also feels vaguely like he's teetering at the edge of a precipice, and he's afraid if he's left alone with his thoughts he's going to hurtle over it. It feels better to have the chatter of his friends distract him from any thinking.

But eventually their exhaustion catches up with them, and they share a few hugs and go their separate ways. Vaughn shows Rhys to something he calls "the guest room", but Rhys suspects it's more like some kind of weird... royalty shrine thing. It's very elaborate for a room in a refugee camp.

The whole thing gives Rhys the heebie-jeebies, and makes him want to sleep even less than he already did. He's exhausted down to his bones but he feels kind of... itchy, too. He feels like he's going to wake up in Jack's office at any moment and this will all have been some kind of flare of consciousness wish fulfillment.

Rhys leaves the weird room and let's himself quietly out of Vaughn's place, pushing his hands into his pockets and making his way through the little town. He finds a good vantage point overlooking the headless Handsome Jack statue, and sits in front of it, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

He doesn't know what to do with himself, really, after blaming so much on himself for so long and then facing irrefutable proof that his friends loved him and he'd done the right thing. The heroic thing. It was overwhelming, and Rhys feels a lump rising in his throat the more he thinks about it.

"This is going to be the most important night of your young life!"

Tiffini's stepmom had said that when the first news about when and how to
buy prom tickets had come up, and at the time Tiffini had thought nothing
of it. Her stepmom was always saying things like that, about the most
inconsequential things, and Tiffini had assumed this was no different. But
then the dress catalogs started coming. Her stepmom had made Tiffini sit
down and look through them all, and give her opinions on every dress, and
the whole thing had been torture.

Still, Tiffini hadn't taken it very seriously and feigned a slight interest
in it, just enough to keep her stepmom from getting suspicious and throwing
around accusations, which had happened before. It wasn't until the other
girls on the cheerleading squad had asked about Tiffini's prom dress and
she'd said she hadn't picked out yet that she realized the full situation.
They had all looked at her with varying degrees of shock, and Tiffini had
stuttered out an excuse about being too busy, but she had a clear idea of
what she wanted. And she realized that this wouldn't blow over and end up
not being a big deal. This was Senior Prom.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about picking out Rohan's suit, honey," her
stepmom had said one day, making Tiffini jump, "I've talked to his mom
about it already. We just have to let her know what color your dress is
when you pick it out."

Tiffini had stared, stunned, but quickly nodded and flipped away from the
suit section of the prom magazine she'd been looking at. Honestly, she
hadn't been thinking about her boyfriend at all as she lingered on the
men's suits. She'd been imagining herself in one instead, rather than the
sleek and sequined dresses her stepmom loved. She felt vaguely guilty and
ashamed after that, because of course she should be picking out a suit for
her boyfriend. Girls didn't wear suits to prom.

Rohan hadn't even actually asked her to prom yet, she realized after that,
but that was perhaps because they hadn't spoken about it once. Tiffini had
always felt more relaxed with Rohan, and often didn't mention the things
she was worried about to him for fear of compromising their relationship.
Honestly, Rohan was one of the only things Tiffini felt sure about in her
life, and didn't want to do anything that would make him leave.

She mentioned vaguely about her stepmom making a big stink about prom, and
had casually and noncommittally asked him if he even wanted to go, and he'd
said he wanted whatever Tiffini wanted. Tiffini had been so grateful for
his answer, and the lack of stress and pressure that had come with it.

Tiffini thought about prom as little as possible going up to the day,
though that wasn't as much as she wanted it to be because of her stepmom.
She ended up muscling Tiffini into picking a skin-tight gold sequined dress
because she wanted it so badly, and it had been so expensive that Tiffini
felt too guilty to say no.

The day of prom came too quickly, and Tiffini spent all day getting her
hair done at the hairdressers and making all the preparations. Tiffini's
stepmom had made it clear that she didn't expect Tiffini to come home
tonight, and had even made several comments about hotels in the area, or
staying over at Rohan's house. She hadn't said it outright, but she
expected Tiffini to have sex with her boyfriend tonight, thought Tiffini
got the distinct impression that she thought they already had had sex. They
hadn't, and honestly, Tiffini was terrified of it.

It wasn't until she was left alone to stuff her body into her dress that
she realized fully how much she was dreading this night. She felt horrible
and exposed in her dress, and it just felt wrong in some way that had
nothing to do with the tight fit. The whole night felt wrong, had felt
wrong the whole time, and when Tiffini stood in the mirror and looked at
herself there were tears in her eyes, but she just blinked them away and
continued to get ready.

Tony really, sincerely wished that he'd inquired about what floor of the
skyscraper this company was on before he'd agreed to meet with them for his
father. If he'd known he had to ride three different elevators just to get
to the right floor he would have come down with a sudden illness that
prevented him from traveling.

The plane had been bad enough-- he'd needed to knock himself out with
tranquilizers just to get through it, and he'd still woken up halfway
through, panicking. One thing was sure: he never wanted to fly
internationally again. He was still wondering if he could get his return
flight switched to a freight barge. Several months at sea would be nothing
compared to flying.

The first elevator Tony calls ends up filled with people, and he graciously
lets someone in front of him, saying he'll get the next one. Some of the
people passing by look a little odd anyways, and Tony reasons that if he's
going to have a panic attack in an elevator, he'd rather be alone in the
elevator. Miraculously, the next elevator that comes down is empty, and
there's nobody waiting, so Tony rushes inside and presses the door close
button repeatedly, silently being nobody else to come along as the doors
sluggishly start to close.

It had been a month since Tony's disastrous initiation ritual, and he thought he was doing pretty well, considering he was on his own for the first time in his life and living with a vampire. Roddie was nothing like Tony had expected on so many levels. His apprehension and fear had faded away after a few days (sooner than it should have, probably) and he'd just been... incredibly, unbelievably sweet. He was unquestionably good, just a good person, and unlike anyone Tony had ever known. He'd been willing to explain the vampire information that Tony didn't know or had been lied to about. It had been very informative but had also had an unintended effect of making Tony feel a lot of affection for him; when Tony had questioned why Roddie didn't feed on humans when he could do it without harming them, Roddie had responded that it was "too intimate". Tony had laughed disbelievingly at the time, but afterwards he'd ended up dwelling on the embarrassed way Roddie had admitted that and wondering what it would feel like, having his neck sucked on, especially after Roddie had told him that his spit acted as a pain reliever and could even cause pleasure under the right circumstances.

Tony had been occupying himself with Roddie's laptop and television, avoiding the crushing guilt and devastation surrounding his arrival into Roddie's life. He was so focused on not thinking about anything too deeply that it didn't occur to him that Roddie might be having difficulty keeping himself nourished, at least not until Roddie went away one night and didn't come back.

Tony had tried to keep himself from panicking, assuming that he'd gone to take some blood from the cows he usually fed on, but when he didn't come back right away Tony opened the fridge and realized there wasn't any blood at all in them. So Tony did start to panic, because Roddie had gone to feed but hadn't returned, and didn't have any reserves, and it had never occurred to Tony to ask where he fed or even where he went when he left, so Tony had no option but to sit in the apartment and wait for him to come back. He didn't even know any of Roddie's friends he could call, not that he had a phone to call them on if he did have their numbers.

It was kind of a fitting end, when Tony thought about it. He'd failed,
utterly and completely, and now he was going to die, a victim of his own
ineptitude.

The vampires he'd been chasing hadn't even wanted to turn him, like they
sometimes did when they caught a hunter. They would turn the hunter and
then leave them somewhere they'd be easily found by other hunters--knowing
no hunter would leave a vampire alive, relative or no.

They hadn't bothered with Tony, though, just feasted on him and then left
him to bleed out in a hidden crevice. It was likely the smell of his own
blood smeared against the rocks would catch the attention of a predator,
leaving no remains for his family to find.

He knew it was all his fault. He'd been full of doubt and fear about his
first hunt, unsure if he was doing the right thing and unsure if it was
something he wanted to do. His own fear had made him careless, but he
couldn't stop thinking about the research he'd done outside of his family's
library; accounts of vampirism being a horrible curse, a plague of hunger
that went unsatisfied unless you abandoned your humanity.

Tony had begun to worry that it was the hunters who were the real monsters,
killing without a thought or a chance at mercy. It was too late now though,
and Tony supposed he could find solace in the fact that his failure had
kept his hands clean of any blood aside his own.

Tony felt his legs go numb and spots appear in his vision, wondering
deliriously if there was any chance of surviving this, and if there was,
would anyone even deem him worth the effort?

Anthony felt sick just standing on the dock. The ship was huge, too, it towered over him and the walkway to board looked precarious at best. He wished one last time that there was a way out, an escape from what would probably end in his death. Stories were swirling around in his head, tales of sailors who had never returned home for this reason or that reason, all the horror stories he'd never enjoyed were now his reality. He heard his mother scolding him in his head, telling him to stop whining. He was a soldier now. He had no choice in the matter. Anthony felt quite like he hadn't had a choice at all, though his mother had made it clear it was the most sensible option. He felt guilty for dreading it so intensely. He didn't enjoy the shaking and unsettling of a carriage ride; he couldn't imagine the kind of Hell spending his entire life on a boat would be.

"Miller? Sergeant Miller?" calls a voice, and Anthony looks up to see a man dressed in a captain's uniform, his expression blank.

"Ah... Yes. Captain Hillis, I presume?" Anthony says, his voice shaking a little. Hillis gives him an appraising look.

"Is there a reason you're loitering around outside my ship?" Hillis asks, looking stern, and Anthony blanches and then flushes.

"I... I apologize, sir," he says, standing at attention, the shaking in his voice getting more pronounced, "I wasn't sure... I'll board immediately, sir." He salutes and then starts toward the walkway, getting about halfway across before the thin wood groans and creaks ominously and Anthony makes a high-pitched distressed sound. His arms snap out to grab the railing and he doubles over, panic making his knees weak. He glances behind himself, his face flushing when he sees the startled and pitying look on Hillis' face.

"Sorry, sir," he says miserably, shakily pulling himself back to his feet, "I'm... A little nervous." Anthony thinks Hillis realizes what an understatement that is, but he still comes up beside Anthony and takes his arm, helping him to his feet.

"Come on, son, I'll show you to your quarters," Hillis says, his voice tough but not unkind, and Anthony feels a rush of gratitude for his lack of disbelief, and for not asking why someone terrified of boats joined the navy.

Jori really just wished he could say he had no regrets. He wished, laying on the cold ground against the trunk of a tree, that he could reassure himself that he'd lived life to the fullest, had left even the tiniest imprint on the world, but he couldn't. He supposed his parents would miss him, but it would take very long for the news to get back to them if it ever did.

He hadn't even completed his mission. He'd finally convinced his parents he was ready to set off on his own, ran off to join the Dawnguard, and then he'd gone and botched up his first mission like an idiot. It was just an old cave, rumored to be inhabited by vampires, and in his mission they'd said there'd be one, maybe two. Actually, there were four, and it was almost embarrassing how easily they'd overtaken him. At first he'd thought they'd just left him to die slowly because they retreated laughing after the initial attack, but as he hobbled out of the cave and attempted to find his way back to headquarters he realized he was feeling odd. He still tried to travel, but then the illness just got worse and worse until the sun started to sting.

Then he realized what they'd done to him.

He couldn't go back to the Dawnguard; they'd just kill him and say good riddance. He couldn't risk heading to a town or his parent's farm either, in case he hurt someone. Now he knew his knowledge of vampirism had been theoretical at best, because he didn't know if he was going to turn into a mindless, killing beast at some point, or if he would die if he didn't drink blood, or if he'd kill or turn anyone or anything he fed on.

He'd found a nearby secluded forest, devoid of people and creatures both, and sat down under a tree to try and figure out what to do. He knew he couldn't be trusted around other people, couldn't imagine anything worse than hurting someone or turning someone, so he came up with nothing.

He just got weaker and weaker as time went on, until his head was swimming and thick with fog and he could barely move his limbs. He'd die soon, he figured, and he just wished he didn't regret not experiencing more of life.

The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. Immediately following the accident Tony had been reluctant to move further than several feet away from Roddie, even for the doctors to continue healing him. Things felt solid between them now, less like the floating, undefined thing they'd been before. Tony just... he loved Roddie, more deeply than he'd loved anyone, and apparently Roddie returned those feelings. They were... in love.

Tony was having trouble getting used to the idea, honestly. Roddie kept--there was no other way to describe it except gazing at him, adoringly, and Tony would catch him at odd times just... just looking, and it always unsettled him. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it--no, it made him feel nice and warm inside--he just wasn't sure what to do with it, because he'd never had anyone look at him like that before.

They hadn't really had much time to just... be in love, though, because it seemed like all their time was spent worrying about something or another. The ship was still in bad shape, and Tony kept having to struggle with the engineers working on it to get past them because he lived on the ship, and he occasionally needed his and Roddie's belongings. More engineers had come to look at Roddie's prosthesis, but after hours of poking and prodding and testing they came up saying "we have no idea how this works, much less how to fix it". Tony had just been trying to wrap his head around what they were going to do--how they were even going to remove the cybernetics when they were hard-wired into Roddie's nervous system--when the engineer who'd been working on their ship took a look at it.

His name was Ayin, and he was another Torak (a detail which had not been lost on Zakeef, who'd been fidgety and nervous the whole time) and he asked to take a look. Roddie agreed, shrugging, and Ayin picked up his arm to look at it, flip open an access panel on the side, and then poke around inside. About a minute later he popped his head up, nodding, and reached for his tools.

"I can fix it," he'd said.

And fix it he did. It had taken a week, but he'd fixed it, even made some improvements apparently, and just today he'd finished and helped Roddie power it up, and Roddie had taken his first steps in two weeks. Tony had almost cried, but managed to hold himself back, settling for covering his mouth with his hand and staring. The ship was nearly back up and running again too, so it looked like they had the little room on the space station together for just a few more nights.

"Quite a day," Tony says offhandedly as he follows Roddie into the room they'd been sharing, closing the door behind them, "I think it was too much excitement for me."

It had been several weeks since he and Roddie had kissed (for the second time) and the inevitable fallout Tony had been expecting just... didn't happen. They just had fun together, sitting close together on the couch or laying together on one of their beds, watching a movie or just sitting together while they did other things. Roddie just... made him happy, and that was as simple as it was.

It wasn't that Tony was expecting something terrible to happen any less, it was just that the terrible things he imagined were more along the lines of "what if the life support systems fail and we choke to death" than "Roddie realizes what a joke of a human being I am and dumps me for someone who's actually funny and interesting". Roddie just... liked him, for whatever reason, and Tony knew Roddie well enough that earning his care was not something you took lightly. Tony may be pretty stupid, but he wasn't so stupid he'd squander such a gift.

They'd been moving slowly, Tony stepping lightly because one wrong move could mean disaster, and he didn't want to push Roddie any farther than he wanted to go. However, Roddie seemed to be taking the same approach with their relationship, which meant they inched forward incredibly slowly. They'd barely even moved past kissing into real making out; the several times their kissing had grown heated either one or both of them would pull back and slow things down again.

Tony couldn't even say he was frustrated, because he was just always happy around Roddie, no matter what they were doing or what else he might want to be doing. It wasn't that urgent, and they could take their time.

However, this relaxed approach meant that when bandits disable their ship and board, with intent to kill them and sell the ship off for parts. They all get locked down and separated, which means of course Roddie and Tony had been together. They snuck out of the room together and moved towards the cargo deck, where Boscha was already fighting them off. Tony feels like his head is going to explode at any moment, but he follows Roddie closely, their hands grasped tightly together despite how it offbalances them both.

There was nothing like a near-death experience to put life in perspective. He and Roddie had fought against an aggressive parasitic worm, and they had come out the other side a little shaky but otherwise closer. Tony had been considering leaving his line of work for a while, but considering death had made it clear that what he was doing was not what he wanted to be doing.

He'd put in his formal resignation the next day, pending the completion of his current project and any other outstanding duties he needed to complete. He wasn't sure where he was going from here, and all he knew was that he was heartbroken about the thought of leaving despite it feeling like the right thing to do, finally. He just... he couldn't be around Roddie anymore, not without... wanting more. It had become especially excruciating in the days since he and Roddie returned from their worm adventure, because the last of the coldness lingering between them since Tony had snubbed Roddie had faded, and they were almost back to the way things had been before the kiss. It was still only almost because Tony couldn't allow himself to relax around Roddie, not fully, or risk exposing his feelings to someone who thoroughly didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Roddie was the best friend he'd ever had, but Tony knew he couldn't return to the friendship they'd had before because it hadn't really been friendship, not to him. The desire for more had been there the whole time, and there was no going back, not now that his desire was a firm impossibility. Roddie deserved better than him, deserved someone who wouldn't hurt him, and that clearly wasn't Tony.

It hurt to think about losing his friends, too, Zakeef and Boscha and Vira who had ended up feeling more like a family than any Tony had ever known. They weren't really his friends, though, they had always been Roddie's friends first, and it would be unfair to put them through the stress of keeping in touch with Tony when Tony couldn't keep in touch with Roddie. No, his only choice was leaving all of them, forever.

It was all for the best anyways, because Roddie would be better off without him to cause problems and be annoying.

They were docked at a Federation space station for a few weeks because a small but vital part of the ship had broken, and they were waiting for a replacement part to be shipped to them. Tony was spending his days wandering the station rather than sit on the ship with the others and contemplate leaving them. It was one of these days when he was walking down the promenade when a voice rang out from behind him that made his eyes widen and his breath catch.

"Anthony? Is that you?" called the voice, and Tony turned to see Evan, in all his pastel-golf-shirt-and-khaki-shorts glory.

"...Evan?" he ventured after a moment, still kind of hoping he was wrong, but Evan continued to walk up to him and then pull him into a hug. Tony returned the hug rigidly, and then told himself to relax. This was Evan, after all, the man he'd dated four times over the last six years.

"Anthony! It's so great to see you! You look great," he said, his smile toothy and too white, and he barely glances past Tony's face.

"Yeah, um, you too," Tony says awkwardly, taking a step back away from Evan's embrace, "What, uh... What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, Federation business," he said, waving a hand dismissively, though Tony knew that Evan had expressed to him several times his intense distaste for visiting the outer space stations, "What about you? I'd heard you were on some kind of mission?" Evan raises his eyebrows, like he's expecting Tony to elaborate, but he just shrugs.

"Yeah, I was. It's just about wrapping up now," is all he offers, unwilling to give Evan any particular details about his current situation. Evan just smiles and nods, and Tony can't help but wonder if he'd actually heard a word of that, or just tuned out after "yeah".

"That crew you were stationed with must have been something, right?" Evan says, laughing, and at least that Tony can agree with. He smiles and nods, a little shyly, thinking about all the good times he's had with the crew of the Tacoma over the last couple of months.

"Yeah, they're... They sure are something," he says, smiling brightly up at Evan, who returns his smile.

"Anthony..." Hillis was saying, his expression unhappy, though Anthony can't quite put his finger on why, "I rejected your father's active duty request. This isn't your job." Anthony stiffened a little at the mention of his father, his gaze sliding up to focus on a spot on the wall rather than make eye contact with Agent Hillis.

"This hasn't anything to do with my father," Anthony said, his voice carefully neutral, and he tried not to remember the way his mother had smiled and said 'your father will be so pleased' when he told her his plan to volunteer for this mission, "I have an interest in this assignment, and feel I could perform the required duties satisfactorily. As the assignment is categorized a class-5 observational, my current clearance level is more than sufficient to qualify me as an assigned agent." Anthony paused for a moment, glancing down just long enough to see the bewildered look on Agent Hillis' face before looking at the wall again.

"It's not your qualifications I'm objecting to here, Anthony," Hillis said, sounding baffled, "Of course you're qualified. You're over qualified! This is the kind of mission we'd assign a green agent to, and you've got two degrees and five years of experience under your belt!"

"Then, respectfully, Sir, what is your objection?" Anthony asked, his voice still flat and polite.

"To-- ...Anthony," Hillis sighed, rubbing his forehead, "Your evaluation may have only restricted you from high-level active duty, but it was just to avoid stress. Technically, yes, you can take this assignment, but I'm not sure rushing out to perform an active investigation while running all over the galaxy is a good way to avoid stress!" Anthony bites the inside of his cheek, feeling annoyance at Agent Hillis' bringing up the evaluation that had ruined his chance at the path he'd been working towards his whole life.

"This is your only objection, then? Your perceived danger to my psyche?" Anthony asks, meeting Hillis' gaze passively.

"Er... Well, yes," he started, and looked like he wanted to keep talking, but Anthony bowled over him.

"Then I can assure you I take my own health very seriously and will resign from this assignment should I suspect my well-being is compromised at any time."

Hillis looked at him for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed, before he sighed and shook his head.

"I'll hold you to that," Hillis says softly, shuffling through the paperwork on his desk and signing his confirmation of assigning Anthony to the EFS Tacoma.

"Thank you, Sir," Anthony said as he reached out to take the signed paperwork, but Hillis didn't release it immediately.

"Take care of yourself, Agent Miller," Hillis said sternly, and didn't release the papers until Anthony nodded his agreement.

"They're releasing the ship from federal custody tomorrow at 0800, you need to be there for the inspection and then take off afterwards. I expect regular updates and reports," Hillis said, frowning and shuffling through the other papers on his desk.

"Of course, Sir, you know how I feel about paperwork," Anthony said, attempting a joke to counteract the sour look on Agent Hillis' face, and it seems to work when Hillis pauses and then smirks up at Anthony.

"Dismissed," is all he says, but Anthony feels comforted by the warm smile on his face.

Anthony is at the docks early the next morning with the excuse of filling out the preliminary exterior inspection, but really there’s a nervous thrill in his guy that hadn’t allowed him to sleep any longer. He’s not quite sure if the thrill is dread or excitement, though judging by the number of violations he’d found just walking around outside Mr. Jaurez’s ship, it was probably dread.

He’d assumed the charges laid against Mr. Jaurez were the result of his father wanting to keep tabs on the people who had threatened his position more than any factual suspicion, but he was now starting to wonder if it was the intersection of both.

The inspection sticker was woefully out of date, and the last time it had been updated the inspector had just written over the last sticker with a marker, which showed a shocking disregard for rules and regulations.

Anthony was standing at attention with his clipboard ready at 0800, his expression severe and growing more severe as his watch ticked over to 0801 and Mr. Jaurez and his crew were nowhere to be seen.

Something wasn't quite right on the Tacoma.

Honestly, something had been a little fuzzy for a while, but it was only now occurring to Tony that it might be something other than a fried main frame or some crossed wires. There had been continued minor issues for the last couple weeks, since Roddie had taught Ajax to lie. It was little things, like a throttle on their warp core and the microwave suddenly refusing to work, but it wasn't until Tony realized his risk assessment software had been running around the clock that he realized it could be something else.

"Um, Roddie?" Tony said, knocking on the doorway of Roddie's quarters, "I, uh... I need to talk to you." He said, looking a little shifty, unsure if Ajax could hear him, and unsure if he should be worried about that.

It had been several months since Riley had saved his life and joined the warband, and they had settled into something like normalcy. Rallei had only recently loosened her strict control of Dolur's missions and allowed him and Riley to go off on their own. Dolur was enjoying the time they spent together immensely, even more than he enjoyed his time with anyone else in the warband.

Riley was cool and interesting, and always had something fun in his pockets. Dolur wasn't sure how humans approached people they liked, but Kett had helpfully supplied some novels on the subject, though they hadn't really shined a lot of light on Dolur's particular situation.

They had been assigned another mission together and Dolur was glad to spend time with him. He still wasn't sure how to go about letting Riley know how much he cared about him, especially when they came from such different worlds, but he knew that he wanted Riley to know, so he would find a way.

He leaves his tent the morning of their mission with a spring in his step, finding Riley unsurprisingly still awake and cleaning his still shocking number of knives.

"Good morning, Riley!" he greets, as boisterous and friendly as ever, "How are you? It's there breakfast?"

Another year, and Anthony was at another school. He was feeling strangely unattached to the whole thing, as it wasn't like he'd left any friends at his old school, and he wasn't likely to make any more this year. Really, he was anxious for classes to start, because he'd nearly finished looking through all his textbooks and he was running out of ways to occupy himself.

At first, he'd been glad to know his new school had two-person rooms instead of large rooms housing many students, as he'd been glad to know he'd have more privacy and quiet. But now he was beginning to see a downside, as his roommate was late. He'd arrived on the first possible move-in day, and had been moved in for days, but today was the last move-in day, and it was well after noon and his roommate had still not arrived. He was beginning to wonder what kind of person would leave move in so late, as now he'd only have a day to get unpacked and settled and prepare himself for classes.

All Anthony had was a name--Roderigo Juarez, and he had no idea what else to expect. No doubt he'd be an insufferable kind of person, who was all right leaving things to the last minute and never finished homework on time and always made a lot of noise. Anthony had already inquired about switching roommates, but had been encouraged to give it a chance first. Anthony didn't even want to get to know this potential disaster of a roommate, not if he was going to have the quiet, calm school year he'd planned interrupted.

He was sitting on his bed, now, a book in his lap that he was attempting to distract himself with. He wasn't really succeeding, and kept glancing up to stare at the door, which had been quiet and closed all day long, and he was nervous that his roommate wouldn't ever show up and he'd have to deal with getting a new roommate. Anthony sighs, scratching the back of his neck and closing the book, it wasn't like he was concentrating on it anyways.

It had been several weeks since Tony had finally pulled his head out of his ass and told Roddie how he really felt, and they were falling into some kind of normalcy. They had to hide their relationship from the crew and anyone else because Tony couldn't finalize his resignation yet and word of Roddie and him being involved would compromise the months of good reports on Roddie. If word got out, Tony would likely be fired and Roddie would likely be placed under more strict supervision, if not something worse.

They were still going on like things were normal, though they had made up and no doubt suspected something was going on, because they had gone from barely talking to best friends again overnight. They were still taking typical jobs so Tony could write up reports on them, and Tony thought Roddie was taking rather tame jobs on purpose, partially so they could spend time together and partially to avoid anything too dangerous. Tony was enjoying himself in any case, and in fact he felt happier and more relaxed than he had in years. He was just happy, and it was a strange thing to get used to.

"Hey, Roddie," he says, knocking on the frame of his door as he leaned around it, smiling softly at Roddie, "What's new? Did you find a new job yet?"

Conner wasn't quite sure how things were progressing with Gavin, because this wasn't like anything he'd known before and he wasn't quite sure how it was working. He loved spending time with Gavin and was very likely on his way to just plain old loving Gavin, but they hadn't done anything except make out once, and since they'd hung out a few times that could only just barely be called dating. Gavin was a little quiet and walled off, which wasn't really different from how he'd been before, but Conner was unsure how he felt about the relationship, or if he was interested in taking it seriously.

That was why when Gavin asked him to take him to dentist (apparently, it had been many years since his last visit), he'd been thrilled. Taking someone to the doctor was the kind of serious-boyfriend-thing that Conner had never really done with anyone else, and he was very excited to do it for Gavin. He was glad Gavin trusted him enough for this, and he really wanted to do a good job taking care of him before and after, to prove he was serious.

He was a little nervous on his way over to Gavin's, even though Gavin was the one getting work done, because he'd be the one keeping Gavin from terrifying the doctor, and he kind of felt like he was taking a big step in their relationship. When he arrives outside Gavin's building he pulls out his phone to text him, struggling a little with the new phone Gavin had helped him get. He didn't really understand how to use it, but he was reasonably sure he could text Gavin and let him know he was here.

"I'm here! whose ready to get some teeth pulled?????" he typed out, deliberating a little over whether or not he should send something more... affectionate, but then shrugging and deciding that was fine and hitting send.

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