The Silk Moth Dream (Season 1 Complete)

EPISODE 9: PAPER HEART

Thwack, thwack! Fiona's knuckles are quickly blackening and aching like a bruised apple but she pushes through regardless. She hasn't trained in years and it shows — her breaths catch a little more, her cheeks burn until they pulse, and she sweats through every Sheltersuit. She's done the base's course a million times before, but she catches the other Left Behind members exchanging glances when she stumbles over minor obstacles.

Abin, to his credit, never judges. Ragnar has been increasingly hinting that they want Abin on missions if he's going to be staying at the base full-time. So while Fiona trains every morning, Abin tucks himself onto a training pad and meditates. He looks so still and at peace when he does it, and some part of Fiona almost wants to reach out and touch his porcelain skin to check if he's real. Sometimes, she finds his pale eyes staring right back and she turns abruptly back to the punching bag.

"You can do better than this," Shailene drawls, looking almost bored as she holds up the target for Fiona. It's half-compliment, half-insult, as is everything that Shailene does. Her skin-tight training clothes are unmarked with any sweat and only a faint blush touches her cheekbones. Unfazed, as always.

"I'm out of practice," Fiona huffs, now missing the days where she'd sit alone in her room and browse banking statements and card transactions until the depths of the night. Being a part of Left Behind has never been easy, but Fiona has never realized the amount of work it takes to reach their standards.

"Then don't be," Shailene sighs, eyes drifting to the other dozen or so people training in the underground bunker.

"Thanks," Fiona says flatly, delivering an extra hard hit that snaps Shailene's attention back to her, just for a slight moment. "I'll be back to my old self soon enough. Kicking your butt and all that."

This brings genuine laughter. Shailene's eyes dance with mirth as she watches a sweat-soaked Fiona. "You never kicked my butt and you know it. Don't you remember how Ragnar would always tell us we tied in our sparring? He was sparing your feelings, Fi-fi."

Fiona rolled her eyes and tightened her auburn ponytail. "I will gladly call up Evie and fact-check–" She shuts up as soon as she realizes. "I mean–"

Shailene's dainty features have gone completely cold, with neither a frown or smile. Just emotionless, wiped of any hints that might give her feelings away. "It's fine."

"Shailene–"

She drops the punching target, letting them thunk heavily against the mat. "There's nothing to say about it. Let's spar."

Fiona bites the inside of her cheek. She knows it's not fine, but Shailene's dark eyes are unrelenting. She looks over at Abin, who is meditating cross-legged. Peace amongst the damage and chaos of Fiona's life. He has no idea what she's gotten him into. All she can do is tread carefully. "Okay."

She gets in position and barely has two seconds to adjust before Shailene delivers a swift kick to her side, which knocks Fiona off balance. She has just the smallest sliver of a second to recover before spinning out of range of Shailene's soft fists. Shailene has the most delicate hands Fiona has ever seen but has enough experience to know that she knows well how to use them.

Fiona manages to jab an elbow into Shailene's ribs, but that only seems to energize and incense her even more. In a whirlwind, Shailene has Fiona in a headlock, her neck outstretched against the crook of Shailene's arm. She can feel the whisper of Shailene's breath against her back. "There's no point in talking about Evie anymore," Shailene says. Her breath is wispy and soft, but the ice in her tone is sending shivers down Fiona's spine.

With no retort, Fiona kicks her ankle up and into Shailene's stomach. Before she can make contact, Shailene grabs Fiona's ankle and flips her to the ground, knocking out any air in her chest.