One-Shots

Battlezone

 BATTLEZONE
(An Allison Argent/Lydia Martin Military AU) 

       Lydia is in a battle zone with a fearless girl named Allison Argent and she thinks that’s a mesmerizing name, but she won’t tell the girl she’s fascinating, because she’s only just met this girl and doesn’t know if she’s fascinating yet.

       No, Lydia won’t tell her anything, she’ll continue to be inconspicuous about her captivation like sunlight forgotten under everlasting fog. 

       The lights on the runway catch the girl’s bright brown eyes and make them shine with a sparkle that makes Lydia wonder if they hold the secret to survival. They keep Lydia’s interest better than the bugs walking over her battered boot, or even more than the words Lydia’s Staff Sergeant is tossing to the Afghan wind as she introduces Lydia to a new member of her squad.

       Lydia’s in a battle zone with a fearless girl, and she will slowly discover that her excitement encases a serious core, that she will pull everyone around her into her orbit and keep them safe, win them over with her connection to reality, her fountain of distractions, her ease, her willingness, her determination to not be weak.

       But right now, Lydia can only try to remember what if feels like to be as carefree and happy as this girl that the world has sent to die with her.

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       Lydia is in a battle zone with a fearless girl named Allison, but Lydia won’t tell her anything for weeks, because every time Lydia looks at her she thinks of the fire in her eyes, the crunch of a boot in the quiet part of a jungle, the soft and constant tick of a bomb, the soft almond scent of C4, the thoughts in her head that seem to whisper ‘this one’s yours so start fighting for something, keep her safe’.

       She knows one of them will die first.

       And Lydia just hopes it’s her.

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       Lydia watches her live, grow, adapt, harden. She smiles less, but Lydia counts each one as a blessing when Allison starts to slot into Lydia’s unit, Lydia’s circle, and around the people Lydia chooses to surround and protect with a rain of bullets.

       Allison’s passionate, young, and loud, like the radio that has too much static but Lydia can’t bring herself to turn it off yet because it’s still better than the deafening silence. She’s goofy and deadly and a match to the team’s needs. It’s an awkward fit at times, because Lydia can’t keep her eyes off her, but she can feel that this is essential, this is serious, this is important.

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       Lydia watches her, teammate, comrade, friend, lover, everything, nothing. They are becoming comfortable and warm like Allison’s soft touch on Lydia’s neck or Lydia’s twist of Allison’s hair. During one night that they’re forced to sleep on the kitchen floor of a safe house, Lydia shares a sleeping bag with Allison’s body and listens to the rain, painting lines down Allison’s bright face.

       Lydia always wants to reach out and touch Allison’s face, remind herself that this is real, like her red shirt, her red blood, red lips, red heart. She wants to touch her warmth and bury herself in it, but Lydia is frightened of the things she cannot yet put into words.

       I’m here, Lydia could say, and, I’m always icy, and you burn so hot. 

       Lydia could trust her, could touch her, could tell her.