“Fuck you, I’m not human. You know that.”
“So you say.” Jug laughed.
Talon looked down at his phone.
Talon: Currently in a sandstorm in Morocco. Visibility: Zero.
He typed the message while Jug continued his observation. The sandstorm was actually pretty spectacular in a way that would probably terrify most people. But Riley had this way of appreciating things he’d share with her.
Riley: That sounds terrifying.
Talon: It's actually kind of beautiful in a violent way.
"Is this the woman? The one from the Guinea operation?" Jug's voice was carefully neutral, but Talon could hear the curiosity underneath.
"Her name is Riley," Talon said, not looking up from his phone. The protective instinct that flared when Jug reduced her to “the woman” surprised him with its intensity.
Riley: You have a weird definition of beautiful.
Talon: Says the woman who thinks Brussels sprouts are delicious.
He remembered that conversation from two weeks ago—her passionate defense of vegetables that most people despised. She'd been so animated about it, so genuinely enthusiastic about something as mundane as proper seasoning and baking techniques.
Riley: Brussels sprouts ARE delicious when cooked right!
"You're texting her about vegetables," Jug said, reading over his shoulder with zero shame. "Skipper, you've got it bad."
Talon flipped him off. “Quit reading over my shoulder.”
Talon: If you say so.
Talon shot Jug a look that would have made the most battle-worthy soldier flee in fear, but Jug just grinned. "I want to know about the veggies. I ain’t moving. How long has this been going on?"
"Since we pulled her out of that fucking metal box," Talon admitted because lying to Jug was pointless. "And it's not like that. We're just friends."
"Right. Friends who text about Brussels sprouts and make you smile like a damn fool. When's the last time you smiled like that with us, I mean, about anything that wasn't team or mission-related?"
Talon couldn't actually remember. Before Riley, his smiles had been rare. Now, he found himself smiling at airports, in hotel rooms, even during briefings when her name lit up his phone.
"She's been through hell, Jug. She doesn't need complications like me."
"Maybe not. Could be what she needs is someone who looks at her like she hung the moon. Just a thought."
February
Talon was alone in his quarters, a rare occurrence lately. Missions were stacked one on top of the other. The world had gone to hell in a handbasket, and it seemed like Guardian was the only entity working through the insanity. He knew it wasn’t the case, but still, the past year or so had been a bitch. Riley's message pinged his phone. He'd been cleaning his weapons, a meditative routine that usually helped him decompress, but tonight, his mind kept wandering, and he was glad for the distraction.
Riley: Question: What's your biggest fear?
Leave it to Riley to cut straight to the existential stuff.She did that routinely. He smiled as he thought about all the conversations they’d had. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he looked forward to every text, even when he couldn’t answer. Sometimes after missions, he had a hundred or more texts from her when he was able to join their secure connection. She sustained him in ways he couldn’t explain. They were completely honest with each other. It was a rule they’d decided on early. He set down the gun he'd been cleaning and considered thequestion. What was he afraid of? Death didn't scare him. It was an occupational hazard. Pain was temporary. But … his real fear, the thing that had tortured him since he was a teenager, sprang front and center.
Talon: Failing someone who's counting on me. You?
The truth hit him even as he typed it. It wasn't abstract fear—it was specific, personal. The Siege had ingrained it into his DNA. So, the thought of letting Riley down, of not being there when she needed him or of failing to protect the people who trusted him to bring them home safe … Fuck, it was real and smothering.
Riley: Being helpless again.
The words made his chest tighten with familiar rage—not at her but at the situation that had taught her what helplessness felt like. She'd been anything but helpless when he'd found her. Scared, hurt, traumatized, yes, but not helpless. She'd fought to survive, fought to stay sane, fought to trust him enough to let him help her.
