Anomaly ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo¹

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖝. We (I) Need You Here

[ tw: minor panic attack ]

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖝. We (I) Need You Here

THE BLACKRUN was the Colonel's own jet, used to skip between Norta and the Lakelands as quickly as possible. And, thankfully, it's more than a transport for Maeve and the others. It's a treasure trove, still loaded with weapons, medical supplies, even food rations from its last flight. Cyrus and Weston sort the stores into piles, dividing guns from bandages, while Cassian changes the dressings on his shoulder. His leg stretches out oddly, unable to bend in the brace, but he doesn't show any signs of pain. Despite the fact that he's smaller than the other two Deuveux brothers, he's always been the toughest one in the family, second only to their father white-knuckling through his constant agony.

Maeve's breath suddenly feels ragged, stinging the walls in her throat, stabbing in her lungs. Dad, Mom, Emira, the boys. In the whirlwind of her escape, she'd forgotten about them entirely. Just like before, when she first became Maeva, when King Orion and Queen Astraea took away her rage and gave her silk. It took her hours to remember her parents back home, waiting for a daughter who would not return. And now she's left them waiting again. They might be in danger for what she's done, subject to the Colonel's wrath. She drops her head into her hands, cursing low. How could I forget them? I only just got them back. How could I leave them like this?

"Maeve?" Matt mutters under his breath, trying not to draw the other's attention to her. He knows she doesn't want them to see her curling in, punishing herself with every breath.

You're selfish, Maeve Deuveux. A selfish, stupid little girl.

The low hum of the engines, once a slow, steady comfort, becomes a hard weight. It beats against her like waves on the Tuck beach, unending, engulfing, drowning. For a moment, she wants to let it consume her. Then, she will feel nothing but the lightning. No pain, no memory, just power.

A hand at the back of her neck takes a bit of the edge off, pushing warmth into her skin to meet the cold. His thumb draws slow, even circles, finding a pressure point she didn't know existed. It helps a little.

"You have to calm down," Matt continues, his voice much closer this time. She glances out of the corner of her eye to see him leaning down next to her, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Jets are a little sensitive to lightning storms."

"Right." It's hard to even talk, her breath stolen from her lungs. "OK."

His hand doesn't move, staying with her. "In through the nose, out through the mouth," he coaches, his voice low and calming as if he's talking to a frightened kid. She guesses that's not entirely wrong. "It always helps me."