The party reaches a critical point where Abin feels that he can safely duck out without anyone's notice. Once the operations team starts showing off their new weapons, slurring and stumbling around, Abin even maybe feels that returning to his room is the smart thing to do.
The lights are out in the hallways since everyone's in the canteen, but Abin knows his way well enough now. There are still so many things about this world that befuddle him, but the smooth contours of these underground walls have been a nice constant.
With his eyes still adjusting to the dark, Abin reaches out his hand for his room. But instead of finding the industrial knob of his little room, he feels the familiar figure of a vanilla-scented girl.
Fiona yelps as she trips, startled by his presence, and without thinking, his hands shoot out to grab her wrists. She's close, entirely too close, and Abin might even be able to feel her erratic heartbeat through his robes. Or maybe that's his. Either way, he drops her hands immediately and straightens up.
"Sorry," he says gruffly, making sure to give an extra wide berth when he side-steps her. "Have a good night."
"Wait," Fiona says quickly. He wishes he could see her face, but he can only feel her presence in this darkness. "How- How was your night?"
Abin is taken aback by the casualness of the question. To be honest, he has no idea why there has been so much tension with Fiona lately. She was just the first person to find him when he was dropped into this world — sure, she's the reason he's here right now, but he isn't quite sure why that means he looks for her fiery red hair every time he enters a room. For some reason, he is reminded of a moth that hovers above a flaming lamp light at night.
As for her, he has no idea. Maybe she disapproves of his mission? He knows that she has a strange relationship with Left Behind, but he still doesn't quite understand her strong resistance to everything LB-related...
"Abin?"
He blinks. It still startles him to hear her call him by his name, when everyone else here just refers to him as Seraph. "It was nice." God, that's all he can come up with? He is thankful that the darkness veils his blushing cheeks.
Fiona nods in the dark. He can just barely see the outline of her, see her soft hair brush lightly against her shoulders as she breathes. She seems to be working up the nerve to say something. "Why... what did you and Shailene talk about?"
"Oh," Abin exhales, surprised at her interest. "She told me that the factory we destroyed was a government-sponsored orphanage."
Fiona sighs, and he swears he can taste the strawberries on her breath. (Where did she get strawberries?) "I was worried that that might be the case."
"It's okay," Abin says quickly, the words coming out in a rush. "Shailene told me a bit about Evie. About your government. And what they did."
He waits for her reaction. She seems to turn the words over in her head, pondering. When Fiona speaks, her words have hardened. "I miss Evie, too. But it's never really as black and white as that, is it?"
She seems frustrated, and for the second time that night, Abin has no idea how he managed to piss off the girl in front of him. "I suppose. But all Left Behind wants to do is good. And I want to do good. So I am happy to help in any way. Maybe this is my tao, a path to..." He trails off before he says the word. If he says it out loud, it may become trivial.
Suddenly, Abin feels Fiona's fingers brush against his. She grasps them in her smooth palm. "Oh, Abin," she says. "What did you do?"
A lump forms in his throat. "What do you mean?"
He can barely see Fiona in the dark, but he can imagine the way that her doe-eyes are blinking up at him. Expectant. Curious. Kind. He feels warmth from his chest cascading throughout his body, as if a delicate glass bottle shattered inside him, spilling its contents everywhere. "What are you punishing yourself for?" Fiona's grip on his hand tightens. "I could tell since we met that something is weighing on you-"
The warm and fuzzy feeling dissipates as suddenly as it enveloped him. Abin stares at her large emerald eyes. They are glistening in the dark, with a few drops of tear hanging onto her long eyelashes. For the second time that night, Abin drops her hands against his own will. "You must be tired, Fiona. You're seeing ghosts where there aren't any." He rushes past her, hoping she doesn't catch a glimpse of his face. "Get yourself to sleep, alright?"
His door clicks closed but not before he hears her soft, "Okay."
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