The first time I saw her, she was practically a skeleton held together by fury and spite. Too weak to stand on her own but still hissing at me, still swiping those clawless fingers at my face like she could tear me apart through sheer force of will. Most of the other captives we rescued from the testing facility had been broken down to nothing. But not A'Vanti.
She grabbed me that day and hasn't let go since.
I'm moving before I consciously decide to, rising from the couch and angling my path to intercept hers. She doesn't notice my approach at first. She's too focused on whatever's on her tablet. I get close enough to see the furrow between her brows, the slight purse of her lips.
Then she looks up.
For just a second, her expression flickers. Surprise giving way to something I want to call pleasure before settling into theatrical exasperation. She huffs out a small sound of exasperation, like I'm an inconvenience she didn't ask for.
But I see the curl at the corner of her mouth. The way her amber eyes brighten.
"Cody," she says. My actual name, not the nickname I've carried since basic training. Ever since A'Vanti learned that "Goober" essentially meant "foolish person" in English, she's refused to call me anything else. She thinks the name is disrespectful and unworthy of a warrior.
I tried to explain that I'm not really a warrior. I'm merely a pilot. I've only ever been in one fistfight, and that was in middle school, but she wasn't having it. In A'Vanti's mind, the people who rescued her from that hellhole are heroes, and heroes don't get called Goober.
It's weirdly flattering.
"A'Vanti." I fall into step beside her, matching my stride to hers. "How're you doing?"
"Very well." Her English has gotten incredible over the past four months. There's still a slight hesitation sometimes, a moment where you can see her mentally translating, and her accent gives certain words an exotic lilt. But overall? You'd never know she only started learning the language sixteen weeks ago. "The session was… productive. Dr. Singh believes I am making excellent progress."
"That's great." I mean it. Those early weeks, when A'Vanti would walk out of Dr. Singh's office looking like she'd been hollowed out and wrung dry, were hard to watch. "I'm glad it's helping."
Her gaze drops to the book in my hands, and I watch curiosity flicker across her features. "What is this?"
"This?" I hold it up, angling it so she can see the cover. "I got it for you, actually."
A'Vanti's steps slow. "For me?"
"Yeah. I mean…" I run a hand through my hair, suddenly nervous. "I remembered you said you were an architect back on Ceraste. Before everything. So I thought you might like to see some Earth architecture. Different styles and stuff. There's a whole chapter on ancient Roman construction, and another one on Gothic cathedrals, and there's this really cool section about Japanese temples?—"
I'm rambling. I snap my mouth shut.
A'Vanti is staring at the book as if I've handed her a live grenade. I can't read the expression on her face. Her features have gone still in that way they do sometimes, a mask sliding into place.
"Why?" she asks carefully.
I blink. "Why what?"
"Why are you giving this to me?" Her tone is measured. "Is there… an occasion I am unaware of?"
"Oh. No, no occasion." I shrug, confused by the sudden wariness in her eyes. "I saw it and thought of you. That's all."
She studies my face for a long moment, as if searching for something. I have no idea what she's looking for, but whatever she finds seems to satisfy her. Some of the tension eases from her shoulders.
"I know Cerasteans do everything on tablets," I continue, losing the fight against the urge to fill the silence with nervous chatter. "But I thought maybe you'd like looking through an actual book. The pictures are really good, and there's something about turning real pages that's just…" I trail off, shrugging. "I don't know. Different."
Slowly, A'Vanti reaches out.
Her fingers brush the cover, tracing over the image of the Colosseum. Her touch is light. I'd like to believe reverent, but that might be wishful thinking. She takes the book from my hands, cradling it carefully.
When she looks up at me, her mask has cracked. Just a little. Enough for me to see a hint of vulnerability beneath.
"Cody." Her voice is soft. "This is…"
She stops. Swallows hard. Her throat works like she's trying to force words past an obstruction.
"This reminds me of some ancient ruins on Ceraste," she says finally, her fingers tracing the Colosseum's weathered arches. "They were built thousands of years ago. I wonder if they still stand."
