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Knowing Me, Knowing You - Dome AU

Word Count: 4,171

The day of The Lost Prince's Descent had arrived in the Octarian underground, filling the remaining functional Domes with much needed levity and the sense of camaraderie. In the face of hardship, laughter and a healthy beverage or two was the best remedy. Or so The Commander had supposedly once claimed.

It was a time for celebrations. But not everyone in the Domes felt so festively inclined…

Along the sidewalk of Dome 14's Residential District, The Inspector and their tiny entourage of Nursery children patrolled the scene in search of festive fun, and, if Cole was lucky by the end of their babysitting shift, an early night. The more fun they could cram into the schedule, the sooner they could wear them out. At least, that was the plan, anyway.

In the distance, a wrench in their plans arose in the apparel of a purple sweater and dungarees.

“Business or pleasure?” Alexa quipped dryly from her spot on the double sided bench beside the cave stream, the cup of coffee she had been nursing now a victim of her anxious fidgeting as her former companion strode towards her down the sidewalk, cloak in full sway as it danced around their body in time to the rhythm of their freshly polished military boots.

Stray paper confetti from earlier celebrations held in and around the town district played about their ankles, running and hiding in a roundabout game of tag; the small shadows behind them eager to do the same. Cole turned to face the little shadows, offering them a reassuring smile before sending them away to play in the street where the rest of the Homefront had taken to celebrate the occasion.

If the children were going to learn how to apologise, they thought, it would be from someone other than themselves and Alexa.

“A little bit of both, if I may.” A glancing smirk, one that hid a thousand cracks in their crumbling mask of self assured intellectualism, and one that promised a nagging headache if she let them have their way with the narrative.

A reluctant minuscule smile. Weak and crumpled at the edges, as if freshly unfolded after years of being tucked away between the covers of overbearing books.

Cole allowed the moment to comfortably linger in spite of the tension that mired the air between them both, the emotional scars from their argument weeks prior still fresh to the touch. The need to preserve their companion's smile in their memory, for fear that it would never surface again, temporarily outweighed the cost of discomfort that followed; a price that they would pay gladly if it meant a moment more. Just a second longer inside the illusion.

But nothing lasted forever… The grains of time flowed between their fingers ever faster; none would escape its steady stream, not even Cole.

In the distance, the merriment of the Nursery children found their ears as they played about the district's open street, their excitable laughter as they scurried along the paving slabs in chase of one another in stark contrast to the tunnel infant's cries that continued to echo along the confines of the pair's memories.

Eyes glanced to the side, scanning the rows of stucco houses and stray chairs that lined the opposite side of the pavement for prime sky watching with learned suspicion. Above them, the crystalline Dome sky burst into colour, its pixels silently raining down hues of purple and gold as digital fireworks danced across its LED screens. A time for celebrating. Family and friends. Alexa inclined her head away from the colours life had to offer her, its vibrant hues shining a scorching spotlight on the monochromatic portrait of her purgatory existence.

For the past four years, she had spent what others constantly referred to as ‘the best years of her life’ alone in the arse end of nowhere, shackled to a responsibility she no longer found purpose in. How could there be a purpose, she found herself exclaiming most nights as she gazed out at the indifferent stars above Cuttlefish Cabin, when her purpose had fled to another country without her, hot in pursuit of the next world ending disaster. The Great Octo Weapons had provided what most could not: a reason to keep going. But even that had come to an abrupt end, in no small part thanks to The Inspector.

It was then that the reality of their circumstances washed over her; in spite of everything, the time they had spent in each other's company, the shared tragedy, living under the same pixel sky day in and day out… Despite it all, they were still utter strangers to one another. For all intents and purposes, they were the same two people in that cramped interrogation room several months back, each trying to size the other up with their healthy diet of spoonfed propaganda.

They were dancing in the dark, hostage to the song of old rivalry Fate had put in motion centuries ago.

Not for the first time in her life, she had mistaken intensity for intimacy.

‘I guess Eight was right… I really can't see the forest for the kelp…’

With a sigh of resignation she withdrew further into the coffee cup sat on her lap between her uncharacteristicly ungloved hands, her thumbs skimming its rim in a bid to keep her woes at bay and her mind perpetually busy.

Cole's eyes drifted to the shore of her silhouette, away from the celebrations and Nursery children, their mind no longer finding turquoise hidden in every street district shadow. At least for now.

‘Alexa…’ Eyes darted between the bench and the distance between them both, calculating the amount of steps and words needed in order to break the ice that had frozen over their companionship in the weeks gone by since their misunderstanding. Their misunderstanding.

Every night since then, Cole had replayed the events of that evening over and over in their mind, agonisingly searching for a better outcome—the words she had needed to hear from them to exorcise that which had come to haunt her since leaving that damned tunnel—as they laid in their scarcely used bed; its sheets more used to the company of dust than a body. Or two. Now, that was a novelty. One they missed more than their failure to court sleep.

Swallowing their pride and nerves, Cole shifted themselves closer to perch on the bench beside her; the first tentative steps in the slow dance of accountability.

“May I?” The corners of her companion's mouth curled into a rhetorical lukewarm smile as they descended a comfortable distance away from her on the far side of the bench, eyes finding hers from under the shadow cast by their cap, military dressed legs folding themselves one over the other in their usual neat precision. Practiced. Rehearsed countless times in numerous different ways, all to ensure the mask stayed firmly fixed in place.

“Be my guest.” She responded flatly from her cup before taking a swig.

There was a comfort of sorts she found in their overpolished mannerisms. The prospect that she had such an impact on them, enough to make them even slightly nervous, reminded her that, despite the stoic veneer and military garb, they were just as fallible to vulnerability as she was.

Fallible, but not easily forgiven.

Alexa peered from over the rim of her coffee cup with halting expectations as Cole composed themselves beside her, quietly clearing the nerves from their throat, but ultimately unable to control the nervous jitter sent out from their leg and into the wooden boards of the bench, its up and down piston motions sending a tsunami through Alexa's finely ground beverage as she tried, and failed, to take another sip from it. She lowered it back down to sit on her lap.

Between having to dialogue with Cole and getting splashed by hot coffee, she decided scathing words were more bearable than scolding hot skin. But only marginally.

Another flash of purple and gold lit up the town district of Dome 14, the digital display bathing all in royal watercolour. Ahead of them, the Nursery children squealed their excitement as more confetti drifted down from the Octodrones that festively patrolled over the stucco street rooftops, all of them trying their best to catch as much of the papery stuff as they could before it touched the paved cave floor. Most were, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. Having tentacles for arms made for near impossible catching technique.

A brief smile snuck up on the pair, temporarily taken away from the woes of adult living. It evaporated as soon as it materialised.

“You were right, back then…” Cole began, eyes glancing to their side, analysing her for signs of disquiet before returning their attention to the Nursery children playing in the street, nerves temporarily soothed by their rambunctious spirits.

“...Go on.” Alexa prompted, running her thumbs over the rim of her cup in quiet agitation as she too gazed out at them for added distraction.

An exhale as jittery as the bench boards.

“About the accident, I mean. It was…my fault it happened… And I… I wanted to apologise. For what I said.”

“Oh?” She encouraged before she risked taking a sip between tremors, quietly impressed by their sudden capacity for self introspection. A skill that was sorely missing from their last interaction.

Not wanting to let on to such a fact, she kept her gaze set firmly on the Nursery children in front of her that had all collectively decided amongst themselves to gather the confetti that had been scattered between the cave floor paving stones. Why, she didn't know. She only hoped they wouldn't try eating it, although it would have provided a socially appropriate excuse to escape the conversation she found herself currently trapped in…

She nipped the thought in the bud before it could grow into a choking hazard.

After several more psychological advertisements hellbent on selling her an escape route, Cole was already midway through their second paragraph in their meticulously practiced apology script. With effort, she turned her automatic Cole filters off and tuned back in.

“...I was selfish, and not once did I consider you in that terrible aftermath...” Their voice, which had started out in its usual calm and collected tone, had descended several octaves into a solemn dirge.

Another pause as words assorted themselves in military march to the tip of their tongue, the sour taste of vulnerability as acidic as ever.

“I just… When it came down from the ceiling after doing what it did, when it tried to reach for you… It reminded me,” Cole sighed, reluctant to open the Pandora's box of grief they had sealed shut for so many years lest it consumed them whole.

Eyes met hers now, the coldness from earlier thawed into a mellow puddle beneath their eyes as tears swelled at the borders. Whatever misgivings Alexa had stored in her utility belt scattered as she watched on with quiet empathy. Only once had she seen them cry: the incident and aftermath in Dome 20.

With trepidation, Cole turned the key in that forbidden chest, and lifted the lid.

“It reminded me of how… How I failed to save someone I cherished. How I keep failing…” Their voice trailed as they turned away, their gloved hand covering their face in shame, quietly hoping it would hide it from her critical gaze.

“How I keep losing everyone, no matter how hard I try… Over…and over again…” Their voice shattered in their throat, caught on the forbidden box lid they had dared to open, tripping head first into the ocean of guilt grief had prepared for them.

Eyes returned to the street to monitor the children who had taken to playing with the confetti, throwing it up into the air and giggling as they tried their best to catch it with their tentacles; the heaviness in The Inspector's chest a perceived omen of misfortune yet to befall them.

In Cole's experience, it was never a matter of if tragedy would strike, only when.

“Cole…” She turned her body on the bench to face theirs, fully attentive as she watched their trauma breach their body and take its first desperate breaths after years of suppressing it; dark eyes an anchor in an otherwise raging storm.

A comfortable half silence settled over the pair, its presence interrupted only by the Nursery children's excited exclamations as they ran through the confetti they had scattered into the Dome sky and the trickle of the cave stream sat behind them.

“I wanted to protect you… But I,” They swallowed hard, and tried again. “I only made things worse for you.”

Cole's eyes returned to her; sodden with years of guilt.

“You have every right to hate me… I'm sorry.”

The coffee cup excused itself to the floor beside the bench, its service as an anxious distraction no longer relevant.

“I don't hate you, silly.” She reassured with her usual smile as she straightened back up after leaning over, her voice softened just enough to allow the shame that consumed Cole's heart another peek in her direction.

“Sometimes… I find you unbearable, but I've never once hated you.”

Ungloved hand bridged the gap between them both on the street bench; a scarred olive branch.

“Not even when you said those hurtful things to me. Because,” She took a breath. Small, unsteady. “I hurt you first… You were only trying to help me, and I lashed out and you bit back… Deservedly so.” Fingers curled against the wood grain of the bench, etching their shame.

Her gaze sunk between the boards and onto the paved slabs below, shuffling and reshuffling the words in her head like a deck of cards, hoping against hope that she would pull the ace from the pile and magically make everything better. Somehow.

‘Gah! Why can't I just be honest!’ Beneath her turtleneck, the weight of her necklace pendant grew heavier against her chest. It, too, longed to be opened. To be set free. Her left hand moved unconsciously to caress it, more so to comfort herself than the memory that had come to haunt it. ‘They've risked being honest with me… I need to try, too…’

Her thumb made one last round trip over the heart shaped protrusion poking up from under her sweater, her mind weighing the pros and cons of sharing such a personal burden.

‘Will they…hate me if I tell them?’ Alexa asked her conscience, not particularly expecting a reply.

From the corner of her mind, watercolours bled across the monochrome photo paper of her memories, scenes from her childhood playing within its thumb worn pages. In the centre of the collage, a familiar figure stood waiting.

‘Sharing is caring. Well, unless it's a cold, then that's kinda gross.’ Her brother's voice chuckled from the picturesque picket fence of their grandparents' old cottage, a snapshot of happier times.

‘Mac…’

‘Come on, jellybean,’ The imaginary burly heft of his arms patted her shoulders encouragingly, like he always used to do when her nerves got the better of her. ‘What's the worst that could happen?’

He was right. After all, the worst had already come to pass.

With a shaky breath, the age old heartache locket creaked open.

“Cole…?” Their watery brown eyes swam to meet hers at the mention of their name, the tears from before now a salty speedway down their cheek. “I'm sorry for what I said, back then… I… I wasn't thinking straight.”

“I'm beginning to think neither of us were.” Cole offered a watery half smile. Even now, the sardonic humour shone through, earning them a breathy laugh.

“Yeah… You're probably right. It's just—”

Grief gripped like a vice around her throat. She cleared it.

“When…you walked out there towards it, towards something that could've gotten you…” She paused to glance at her coffee cup, hands in desperate need for something to anxiously stim with. She settled for her sweater sleeves. “You reminded me of my brother when he tried to protect me.” Her voice came out small, far smaller than she had anticipated. Embarrassed, she kept her gaze to the hem of her sleeves; the stitching was in dire need of unpicking and resewing after hours of heavy duty machine work had worn them up.

“Alexa…” It was Cole's turn to align themselves with her: they adjusted their sitting position so that they might better attune to her struggle, facing her head on.

Eyes bathed in guilt met in their ocean of shared tragedy and loss.

“I made him a promise…” Tears threatened to spill. She forced them down with a practiced breath. “A promise that… I'd be strong. Strong enough to never need saving again. To never get anyone h-hurt…” Another breath, but there was no stopping them this time.

Streams of regret spilled down her cheeks from her exhausted eyes, somersaulting onto her leg and the bench below in splashes of twos and threes. Cole watched on helplessly, their desire to comfort her gnawing at their insides.

“T-That's why I—” She hiccuped back a sob, her voice a murmur against the white noise of the celebrations that played out beside them in the streets. “I couldn't let you do it… I couldn't lose you, too.”

Her body turned away abruptly back towards the street, the building blocks of rekindled connection lost. A trembling scarred hand held her face and the tsunami of grief that threatened to drown her at bay, but only just.

Sobs shot in and out between the gaps of her fingers, its force sending recoils up and into her shoulders. A loaded gun, one that had been jammed for the better half of a decade, now rang out clearly.

“You got h-hurt because of me… And I… I couldn't…”

The bench boards began to tremble once more, only this time, Alexa was the engine driving it.

Cole's only hand ached to soothe that which they had wrought, to reach out and put an end to the misery they had awakened in her hearts. But their body had been instilled with the essence of warfare; a biological machine built solely for the destruction of their enemies. There was no room for compassion in such a thing. No mercy to be felt for one that had brought so much suffering to their people, to their superiors. She, too, was a heartless machine. Just like them.

Pixelated fireworks flashed from the screens above, bathing all it touched in soothing blue hues, its dazzling light illuminating the long buried memories of loss that they had tried to ignore since Alexa's arrival into their life, but could never truly forget, nor truly forgive; the memory of The Inquisitor hunched over her desk, her towering physique crumbling into the woodwork as Cole broke the news to her of the Octo Samurai's demise at the hands of Enemy Number Four; the terrified faces of the Nursery children from Dome 20 as they shepherded them from the ruins, the power blackout caused by The Enemy giving the ooze the perfect opportunity to strike; their lover's final smile as she held open the Floodgate doors, her last act of faith allowing for their and the children's safe escape into the neighbouring Domes.

Fingernails gnawed through the fabric of their glove, their once open hand now curled into a reclusive fist on the jittery bench boards.

Forgiveness was a wonderful thing, until there was something to be forgiven.

‘What gives her the right to grieve, while we are forced to suffer in silence?’ The Inquisitor's accent came through the fog of memories in a low growl, her singular eye piercing them where they stood in her reimagined office.

Another burst of colour filled the air, its colour bleeding down the cave walls and onto the streets below. Red. The colour of passion and fits of bloodlust; Cole was well acquainted with both ends of its spectrum, capable of achieving either if the goal was deemed worth their superiors' time and guided effort, though more often than not, it was a hollow experience. Their actions, their life, were not their own.

Living by proxy came with the territory of being a toy of the state. A fact that they adamantly despised, but were ultimately powerless to challenge. What use was there in rocking a sinking boat, one that every Octarian was forcibly crammed into?

“I'm s-sorry—” Alexa managed over a stifled sob, her voice dragging Cole out of their psychological trench warfare with themselves and their conscience. Scrunching their eyelids shut in an effort to cleanse their mind of the vitriolic grief that had tainted it, they forced the heartaches of the past back into their Pandora's box.

Eyes opened to Alexa's silhouette illuminated against the stucco, her body still shaking from the past that sped down her face.

The red that had stained the interior of Dome 14 from a few moments ago now washed over with splashes of purple, its calming pigment a welcome sigh of relief from the intensity of the last two spins of the colour wheel, and all it had dredged up.

‘Go to her.’ A voice from the depths of Cole's memories urged, her words sending ripples of static into their gloved hand, which still sat angrily atop the bench board it had landed on moments prior, its mission to reconcile hijacked by age old hatred.

‘Shion…’

‘Hatred has never gotten anyone anywhere fast, except an early grave.’ The static in Cole's hand lessened, abating into a gentle tidal ripple.

‘Please… You know that's not true…’ The memory of her smile resurfaced, as did the threat of tears.

‘My altruistic sacrifice aside, the point still stands.’ Her voice, though lacking a face, gave them a verbal look. The one she would make when they made a smartass comment at someone else's expense. ‘Division gets us nowhere. If it did, would we still be stuck down here?’

Cole pondered her musings for a moment.

‘We're stronger when we work together, as one.’ Warmth kissed their cheek, its long absence cascading down their arm and into the palm of their hand, holding it tightly before letting go, returning to the cave breeze that had filtered in through the vent system dotted around the Dome.

‘You always knew how to make an exit.’ Cole sighed wistfully.

Following their lover's words and the static impulse as a guide, Cole tentatively reached for Alexa's side, tucking her tainted fringe behind her studded ear before allowing their hand to meet their companion's tear stricken cheek. Gently, they caressed the flow of tears with their thumb, ebbing its flow from her right eye, if only a little.

Alexa's eyes were glazed, lost in her memories and guilt, replaced with the quiet terrified plea of a small defenseless child.

A child that had been left waiting in the alleyway by the side of her brother's shop for the past twenty years, waiting for someone to bring her back home.

“Alexa…” Cole's voice called, its usual edges softened. Glazed eyes ground to a halt over their steady gaze, her scattered mind only now registering their hand against her face. The past screamed at her to recoil, to run; the present urged her to stay, to let them see.

“Your strength alone has buoyed me where others have failed,” Another caress of the thumb as more tears began their descent. “Let me give you my strength…as you have done for me.”

The cotton of their single gloved hand was soaked almost instantly as the floodgates to their companion's heartache creaked open all the way, her sobs billowing into wails as she collapsed forward into their invitation and outstretched arm, Cole's cloak a suitable makeshift tissue. But it didn't matter. They didn't care that the tears ate away at their skin bit by bit. It didn't matter to them if the uniform they had spent all morning preparing for the festival got sullied.

No, all that mattered was right now. This moment. The warmth of their hearts beating in sync with one another, to the rhythm of life that sang all around them. The words to the song they had long since forgotten, now remembered.

Dome screens glittered with gold, its arrival heralded with a healthy deposit of confetti from the Octodrones.

As the papery petals sailed down on the cave breeze above the stucco flower pot houses, as the Nursery children giggled and the scent of smoked strawberries greeted their senses with every shaky breath their companion took in the safety of their bound cloaked chest, they wondered to themselves; ‘Where do we go from here…?’

The predetermined path Fate had laid out before them both had seen them walking in circles, always within touching distance, but never to hold. Now, together, they could take those first tentative steps along a new path, one removed from the doubts of old and bitter resentments.

A path all their own.

END

#splatoon #doubleagent4 #splatoon au #mutuals

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