Red Queen One-Shots

The Want - Farley and Cal friendship

After weeks in hiding and on the run, nights spent awake and alert, in thin tents – or in a cave –, a real bed was a luxury she couldn't suffer. The air, always cold and damp in the base of Irabelle, she was used to, even on their first night, having arrived only hours ago. So was sleeping in rooms with a dozen others, as either was an improvement to their way here, from the evacuated island of Tuck. Diana Farley had endured hardships for a long time and taken what small comforts and safety she found in the rests she was offered.

What unsettled her were those who weren't safe.

She lay awake, her mind spinning in pointless circles that demanded her to act yet still eluded any options how to. Her teeth grinded, her fists balled. She squeezed her eyes shut but one didn't fall asleep when your whole body and soul were so tense you wanted to shout.

Oh, the want.

Give it up or stay in restless rest?

Experience advised her to pick the latter. But her most important finding was not to rely on the usual.

"Fuck it," she murmured. Opening her eyes, she assessed the dark room before she rose, stretched, and put on clothes. I'll get to pull back more than soon enough. There wasn't enough light to assess her belly as well, but she knew its rounding shape well enough anyway. She sighed as she touched it one more time. Not round enough to be obvious yet just big enough to draw attention. It was the worst time in that regard, probably. She should simply announce she was pregnant to undermine any gossip, though she also knew that wouldn't stop it, only replace curious with pitying glances. And pitying herself, she could do well on her own.

She moved her hand off her belly to push herself up – and hesitated. She stayed seated, palms on the warm blanket and blood pumped fast by her racing heart.

You should be here.

It was the one thought that paralyzed her the most. As if dreaming, she remembered the softness he'd given and woken in her in return, the tenderness that had turned into stinging pain now that he was gone, like everyone she loved, apart from their child.

You should be here and hold me, soothe me, kiss me ... Stifling a screaming sigh, she shook her head, fists tightening again. Shapes that had appeared as her eyes had gotten used to the dark became indistinguishable as she blinked – no, not at tears. She wouldn't shed tears. It didn't help, did it? She rose, finally. The only option was the way forward, and that was saving the ones left.

"Captain ...?"

Surprised by the unusually sleepy voice, Farley turned back to the bunk bed and grabbed its upper rail. She looked up at Ada Wallace, half risen and wrapped in her blanket.

"Sorry I woke you," Farley said, startled by her own hoarse voice. "I'll be in the control room."

Ada bent forward to cover Farley's hand with hers. "Is that so?" she asked.

Her pulse throbbing at the touch, Farley shrugged. "A captain has her duties," she replied, neutrally, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Ada always called her captain since her rank had been restored, apparently a politeness remaining from her housemaid occupation, though Farley had learned in their weeks travelling together from Tuck to Irabelle that it was also Ada's kind of wit. With her Newblood ability always the smartest person in the room – without exception –, Ada had developed her own methods to stay under the radar as she withstood the Silvers' disdain, and one was a delicate sense for irony.

I am no match for her, Farley thought. If we hadn't found her, she would've joined the rebellion on her own, sooner or later.

Now they held each other's gaze despite the dim room, both filled with tension and held breaths that bespoke the opposite – the concern of friends. At last, Ada relaxed. "You're okay?" she asked.