Ghosts and Glass
“Been waitin’ for you, pretty boy.”
Agent Washington groaned, placing his palm on his forehead. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?” He had entered his quarters only to find his training partner, Massachusetts, sitting on the top of his desk, swinging her legs in a careless way, with her helmet abandoned on the floor. Sometimes looking into her sad brown eyes he would feel a pang in his chest-she, much like his ex girlfriend South, had an inner pain that she would not share. Add in a large amount of back talking and her tendency to give him condescending nicknames and Wash was ready to tear his hair out. Of course, the million dollar question was: why the hell was he so attracted to her? And more importantly, why did he harbor deeper feelings for Massa than he ever did for South?
Of course, he had no answer to either of those questions, and that was what pissed him off the most.
She grinned in that infuriating way only she could, her long, straight hair hanging in front of her eyes to cover the worst of the scars that covered her face. “And how many times have I told you that’s not gonna happen?”
He dumped his bag of supplies on his roommate’s unmade bed. Maine wouldn’t care either way if Wash dumped the entire weapons’ arsenal on his bed. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice. “Massa, can I talk to you at least once without the conversation either turning into you insulting me, or you treating me like one of the hostages you interrogate?”
“Nope. Surely you know by now that I don’t treat my prisoners the way I treat you.” She pulled her pistol out of her holster and began to take out the bullets, one by one.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t see much of a difference.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I call you Wash, will you leave me the hell alone?”
“Considering the fact you are in my quarters…”
“Well, at least sitting here I don’t have to spend any more time with New Jersey than necessary.” She lined up the bullets in rows, biting her lower lip as she concentrated on making each sit at the precise location she wanted. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
Wash stifled a laugh at her obsessive behavior. “Fine then. Maybe if you call me Wash I’ll find somewhere else to occupy my time. But only if you show me the difference between me and your prisoners first.”
“Why should I?” She growled in frustration at the bullets refusing to line up, finally giving up and scooping them into her hand and setting them to one side. “Piece of shit,” she mumbled under her breath.
He groaned in frustration, running his hand through his hair. “We’ve been training partners for six months now, Massa. That deserves some consideration.”
“Fine.” She hopped off his desk, leaving her gun behind. Taking a few steps towards him she was so close he could smell the metallic scent of her armor. “You know what, Wash? There is a goddamn difference between you and any prisoners I’m assigned to deal with.”
She licked her lips and he watched, transfixed. She leaned in so that she was mere centimeters away from his face and he was breathless, his veins humming with something stronger than the deliberating than any drink. “Yes?”
Her breath was a whisper against his neck, seductive. Voice lowered, she whispered in his ear, “They are less of as pain in the ass.”
He tried to take a few deep breaths to control his rising temper, but it did no good. There was only so far Wash was going to be pushed, and now she was going to get a taste of her manipulative medicine. “You know what, Massa?
“What?” She still wore that infuriating smirk, and although his heart began to beat faster at the sight of it, he pressed on. “That’s it, Massachusetts.” He pronounced her full Agent name with disdain. “In the morning, I’m out of here.” He noted with a sickening triumph the look of blind panic that flashed across her face.
Her words were rapid, her breaths small puffs. “What do you mean? Just what the fuck are you talking about, Wash?”
He feigned indifference. Inside, despite his hollow victory, he felt a small glow, a weak, flickering flame that threatened to get bigger. She had forgotten to call him “pretty boy” for once, and he couldn’t hold back a small smile.
“What are you smiling at? Do you really want this? Huh?” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “Tell me, Wash, God damn it!”
He swallowed; her lips were so close to his, it would be so easy to kiss her right then and there. A mix of love and anger, lust and concern left him dizzy, and he could barely think as the words escaped from his mouth. “Well, you’ve certainly made it clear that you don’t want me as a partner. I’m just holding back the great Agent Massachusetts from the glory she wants so badly. Might as well switch to a partner that’s more suitable to my level.”
“No God damn it.” She reached over and took both of her hands in his. “Are you really that dense, pretty boy?” He was about to protest but she put a finger to his lips. “Don’t answer that. What I’m trying to say…” She sighed, and he could see the sorrow within her that she tried so desperately to hold back. “You have no idea what it’s like…that since…” She took a shuddering breath and yanked her touch away from him, no longer meeting his eyes. “Since Reach.”
He rarely heard her speak of her home planet, and when she said its name he saw the way she began to collapse inward; a dwarf star in the throes of its death. She was right; he had no idea what it was like to lose his home, everything he had ever known. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to try. To try and break through the front she put up, to care for her and heal her. Unlike South. South, who had been a primitive, lustful attraction he had fallen into without thinking twice. South, who wanted a love he didn’t have. Massa didn’t want love. Hell, he had no idea what she wanted. “I’ll try,” he said.
She traced the scars on her face, moving down to her neck. Rapidly she pulled off her chest plates, her leg plates, every part of her armor until she was only in her black, tightly fitting suit under the plates. His eyes widened when she began to remove that, too, clad now in only her bra and underwear.
“Don’t you see?” She cried, no longer able to conceal the fury and grief.
And he did. The rippled burn scars from a Covenant plasma gun; the remainder from barely making it to an evac ship after the glassing had already begun. Scars that criss-crossed on her stomach, her chest, and lower down to her thighs and calves.
“No one looks at me the same way. They don’t want to see ugliness; they don’t want to see their own damn failures-the fact that they failed to save their own damn people. They don’t want to be reminded of the causalities of war more than they have to.” She paused, lowering her voice, and he noticed that she was trembling. “But you…you, the sheltered, trust fund pretty boy…you don’t see me that way, do you?”
He couldn’t even begin to think about forming words, his mind swimming. She had never spoken to him in even a remotely tender way and he had a panicked, irrational fear that if he even uttered a syllable this side of her would dissolve. So he simply shook his head.
“What I’m trying to say…” She balled up her hands into fists in an effort to stop shaking. “Damn it, I don’t even know what the hell I’m trying to say but…” She took a deep breath, licking her lips again. “I need you sometimes, Wash. I care about you though fuck if I know why.” She wrapped a strand of hair around her finger.
He blinked, trying to make sense of his thoughts, but they were deconstructed, scrambled and unable to come together with clarity.
She glared at him. “Well, what are you staring at?”
He got the distinct feeling that “you” wouldn’t be the appropriate answer, so, trying to steady his nerves, he blurted out the words he had longed to say for so long. “You are beautiful, Massa.” He reached out and took on her hands, tracing the scars. At first with his fingers, and then with his lips. Just the scent of her skin and the warmth of his hands against hers was enough to fuel his incessant desire for more. But he knew he had to move slowly; that he couldn’t push her the way he had South. Still, she wasn’t responding, and he felt a wave of cold run through his body. “Massa?”
“Yeah?”
Ever so gently he tilted her chin up so that her brown eyes were level to his blue ones. “Are you…” He changed his words mid sentence-“okay” was not what he was looking for. “Do you…want this?”
She pressed her lips to his in an intensity he hadn’t expected, and when she pulled away she whispered in his ear, “I think you have your answer.”