The Real Stories of Lorien (A Lorien Legacies Fanfiction)

Sentiments in a Hangar

LUCE'S POV
Six clenches our hands and she's hoping that she can stop us from saying anything back to Five. I'm just about to but I stop myself. We can't give ourselves away unless we want to draw attention to the Mogs outside. Lenin's thoughts take some dark turns while I'm thinking this and then he controls himself. Five's words hang in the air now, unanswered.
"I know you won't believe me," Five continues. "But no one was supposed to get killed."
Five's beseeching gaze is still aimed right at us, so slowly, quietly, Six starts leading us to the side. We move just inches at a time, careful of each other, not making any noise. Gradually, we slip out from under Five's gaze, flanking him. Now, he's staring at a truly empty space, stupidly waiting for a response.
With a grunt, Five turns away. It's like he was never talking to us at all. Instead, he starts speaking directly to Eights's body.
"You shouldn't have done what you did, diving in front of Lenin." Five lectures, his voice almost wistful. "It was heroic, I guess. I kinda admire you for it. But it wasn't worth it. The Mogadorians are going to win anyway, you know? A levelheaded guy like you would've learned his place. You could've helped with the rebuilding and unification. Lenin, though...he's too brain-dead to know when he's beat. He's no good to anyone." Five pauses and then adds, "I'm surprised he was chosen as Luce's guardian. With him as her guardian, I give her another week tops of survival."
I hear Lenin make an angry noise, almost like he wants to snap Five's neck. I can relate because that's what I want to do. My eyes narrow and I tense. Five puts his hand gently on Eight's shoulder. The sleeve of his uniform rides up and I notice the leather sheath strapped to his arm, the one that holds the needle-shaped spring-loaded dagger that he used to kill our friend.
"He told me—." Five's voice breaks a little as he continues addressing Eight. "He told me I'd have a chance to talk you guys into joining. No one would have to get hurt if you just accepted Mogadorian Progress. He kept his word before, I mean, I'm living proof, right? When the charm broke, he could've killed me, but he didn't."
Five must be talking about Setrakus Ra, about a deal he struck with the Mogadorian leader. He walks around the table, turning his back on us. I take a step towards him, but Six doesn't let me go any farther. Five has to know that we're here and so he keeps talking. I feel like he's just trying to get us to join the Mogs. That's definitely not happening. I sigh and decide to listen to the dimwit.
"I didn't expect you to be so brainwashed," Five says, standing over Eight, his hunched back presenting a perfect target. "Thinking about everything in black and white, heroes and villains."
LENIN'S POV
Five reaches down and lifts Eight's pendant, squeezing the jewel in his fist. His legacy—Externa, he called it, where his skin takes on the quality of whatever he touches—kicks in. Five's skin briefly flashing the shimmering cobalt of Loralite.
I can't help but think, Just like Luce's eyes but the color in her eyes is better.
I hear Luce pull in a quick breath and I tense, wondering what happened since I just zoned out thinking about Luce's eyes.
Five's flesh has returned to normal and he says, "But then, maybe I'm the brainwashed one, right? Isn't that what you guys said to me?" Five lets out a low laugh, then reaches up to carefully adjust the gauze over his destroyed eye. "They fill your head with all this shit—The Elders, the Great Book. All these rules about who we're supposed to be. But I don't care about any of it. I'm just trying to survive."
I roll my eyes and think, How fucking pathetic. How much more pathetic can he get?
I hear Luce and Six's thoughts voicing the same thing,  just different versions of it. Five has definitely lost his mind and we can all agree with it.
Then I hear Five mutter something I don't believe, "I wish Luce would like me. Just like I like her. A lot..."
The temperature in the room drops to freezing. I start to shiver with how cold it just got. I look up and Five's eyes are widened. He's staring around the room.
Anger snaps in me. He doesn't deserve to even like her like that! He will never deserve her, no matter what he does. My eyes narrow and I tense. I'm so close to going up to him and telling off that stupid asshole. I want to see his blood on the floor so badly.
Then I hear Six hiss, "Luce, don't!" Luce has started to take a step forward towards Five.
Luce listens but her thoughts are angry and defiant.
Five frowns and then continues his pathetic speech, "Anyway, the point is, I'm sorry, Eight," Five says with that know-it-all tone still in his voice but mixed with an undercurrent of sincerity. "I know it doesn't mean anything. I'll be a coward, a traitor, a murderer for the rest of my life. That won't change. But I want you to know that I wish things could've turned out differently."
Behind us, someone clears his throat. All of us were so wrapped up in Five's unhinged monologue—Five included—that we didn't notice the Mogadorian officer enter. He eyes Five wearily, his posture stiff and formal. Looking at him, standing there like a soldier ready to deliver a report, it occurs to me that this Mog might take orders from Five. If that's the case, he seems pretty fucking disgusted about it. I don't blame him for it either.
"We are finished loading the ship," the officer says.
The Mog waits for Five to acknowledge him, but Five stays silent for a long, awkward moment. He stays hunched over Eight's body, breathing slowly. Six wonders if he's about to sound an alarm. I sense the girls tense up and I ready myself.
The Mogadorian officer does a bad job of hiding how much Five's silence perturbs him. "One of the hunting parties hasn't reported back," he continues. "And the mechanics are having difficulties getting one of the scout vessels to work."
Five sighs. "That's fine," he says, "We'll leave them behind."
"Yes, those were my orders." the officer replies, subtly asserting his power. "Are you ready to leave?"
Five turns to the officer, a malicious twinkle in his remaining eye. "Yeah let's get out of here."
Five walks towards the hangar doors, his movements mockingly sluggish. We stand to the side, watching all this transpire, staying quiet. The officer arches an eyebrow, not stepping out of Five's way.
LUCE'S POV
"Aren't you forgetting something?" the officer asks Five when the two are nearly face-to-face.
My eyes narrow as I realize he's talking about Eight.
Five scratches his head. "Huh?"
"The body," the officer says, annoyed. "Your instructions are to bring the Loric body. And the pendant."
"Oh, that." Five replies, and glances back at the metal table where Eight rests. "The body's gone, Captain. The Garde must have slipped in here and taken it. Only explanation."
The Mogadorian captain doesn't know what to say. He makes a show of craning his neck, looking past Five to where Eight is very much on the table. Then, he studies Five's face, his eyes narrowed impatiently.
"Is this some kind of game, Loric?" the captain hisses. "Or are you blind in both eyes now? The Garde is right there."
Five ignores the insult and shakes his head at the Captain, clicking his tongue.
"Happened on your watch, too," Five says. "You let them steal a war asset from right under your nose. That's basically treason, my man. You know what the punishment for that is."
The Mogadorian opens his mouth for a disbelieving protest. He's cut off by a scrape of metal, Five's blade popping out from beneath his sleeve. Without hesitation, he drives the point into the underside of the officer's jaw and straight up into his brain. Before he starts to disintegrate, there's a look of total surprise on the Mog's face.
Five doesn't move as the Mog turns to ash. He disintegrates slower than the many other dying Mogs I've seen, and when it's finished there's are jagged bones poking out of his crumpled uniform. Five pushes his blade back into the mechanism on his forearm and kicks the officer's remains away from the doors. Then, he carefully brushed himself off and straightens his coat.
From where we're standing, Five is in profile, and the eye that's visible is the one covered by the gauze bandage. Because of that, it's not easy to get a read on his expression.
"Good luck," Five says, then steps through the hangar doors, easing them closed behind him.
No one says anything or even moves for about a minute, all of us a little worried that a squadron of Mogs will be storming in here at any second. Finally, Lenin shakes off Six's grip, popping back into the visible world.
"Okay. What the holy hell was that about?" he exclaims. "Is that kid trying to buddy up now or is he just totally nuts?"
"It doesn't matter," Six replies. "We've got Eight, that's what's important. We can deal with Five another time."
I look at my hands silently listening to them. I understand how Five feels. I've felt the same way before. "He's alone and lost," I say softly, letting go of Six's hand as well. I notice Six rubbing some warmth back into it, the chilled feeling still lingering, and frowns. "Sorry, Six. He brought it out of me."

Six waves it off and I frown again.  Six tiptoes to the hangar doors and edges them open just a crack. I read her mind to see what she sees. I see Five disappearing up the ramp and onto the warship, the last one aboard. Once he's inside, the ramp curls back into the warships underbelly and the huge ship begins to rise up, its engines purring with a softness that seems almost impossible for a vessel that size. Once it reaches a certain height, the warship starts to flicker and I start having trouble distinguishing its outline from the purple clouds. Hulking, virtually silent, and equipped with some kind of cloaking device—how are we supposed to fight something like that? I'm glad we didn't fight them. We could've gotten ourselves killed and I didn't have enough strength at the time to take us back into time a few minutes.
"You sound like you feel sorry for him," Lenin says to me.
"I don't," I snap at Lenin, doubt creeping into my voice. I block my mind because I know this isn't the full truth. "I . . . did you see his eye?"
"I saw a hole in his head covered by a Band-Aid," Lenin replies. "He had that and more coming to him."
"Do you think Eight would want that?" Six asks. "He died trying to keep us from killing each other."
I flinch at the mention of Eight. Neither of them notice, to my relief. I'm tired of the sympathetic looks already. I always thought Eight was my soulmate—-I guess not. I don't feel that sadness and feeling of loss that I would feel if I lost my soulmate. Instead, I still feel the soulmate pull.
Lenin chews his lip and stares at the floor, considering what Six said. I take a seat in the chair Five sat in. I tentatively touch the electrodes and wave my fingers through the energy field. When nothing happens, I gently brush my fingers through his curly hair. My eyes shine with fresh tears, but I hold them back. I have to be strong.
"I knew I'd find you," I whisper. "I'm sorry I ever left you."
LENIN'S POV
I feel a kind of jealousy seeing Luce with Eight. I know she's my soulmate, she just doesn't realize it. She thought her soulmate was Eight—-but now she realizes it's not.
Six walks over to join Luce at the table, gazing down at Eight. I stare over at them, still feeling jealousy but also feeling a twinge of sadness and anger at myself. I hurt Luce by getting him killed. I swore to protect her and that didn't just mean protect her from death.
"I wish I'd known you better," Six says to Eight, reaching out to gently put her hand on his shoulder. "I wish our lives had been different."
I hesitate but eventually join the two girls at the table, standing next to Luce. At first, I avoid looking at directly at Eight's body, my lips pursed, muscles in my neck twitching from trying not to just break down. I'm so ashamed of myself right now. It takes a great effort for me, but after a moment I look down at Eight. Immediately, I reach out to zip up the body bag a little more, enough so Eight's wound is hidden from view.
"Oh man," I say quietly. "I'm sorry for . . ." I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. I almost can't take this. "I mean, thank you for saving my life. Five was right, uh, you probably shouldn't have. If I'd just shut my mouth you'd probably still be . . . shit, I'm sorry, Eight. I'm so sorry."
I take in a shuddering breath, holding back tears. Luce puts her hand softly on my back and leans against me.
"He would forgive you," she says softly, adding, "I forgive you."
I don't think twice. I put my arm around her and pull her into a hug that's tight enough to make her squeak. I bury my face in her hair, hiding my tears. I always try to be strong for the others, for Luce. I....just can't right now.
"We need to get moving," Six says gently and I read it in her mind that she's reluctant to end this moment. I understand she has to though. I'll always have more time with Luce—hopefully.
I finally release Luce, and carefully zip up Eight's body bag. I reach down and, with an equal amount of care, lift Eight's body into my arms.
Just as we turn towards the hangar doors, they rumble open.
The group of Mogs who were working on the scout ship. I forgot all about them. They stand in the doorway, caught in the middle of pushing their broken ship into the hangar. They look about as surprised to see us as we are to see them.
Before we can do anything, a mechanical grinding emanates from the ship. The front—or at least the side of the saucer is aimed directly at us—opens up, a blaster turrent clanking into view and whirring to life with an electric sizzle. There must be a Mog  inside.
"Get down!" I shout.
There's no cover in this empty hangar except the metal table, and it's way too late to go invisible. Luce flips over the table, I crouch with Eight's body still in my arms, and Six dives to the side. We all hope that we are fast enough as the turrent opens fire.