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It was Juno who had argued to investigate the old prison. Both Buddy and Rita were rapidly getting antsy; one pretending that nothing was wrong, the other shaking with worry. But Buddy’s voice grew higher and more polished with every day they woke up to Jet feeling worse, and all it did was prove to Juno how little faith she had left that Hanataba would be able to save him. Rita hid her panic with less skill and practice, but the fact that she was hiding any at all was telling in itself.
Juno really hoped his hunch would turn out right. Because even with all their frantic impatience, neither Buddy nor Rita had argued when he pushed to check the prison. He couldn’t let their trust in him be what brought them all down.
All of them but Jet could see just fine in the dim prison light — the slivers of sunlight that made it in were barely enough to see the motes of dust that fill the empty cells. Rita lit the room up anyways, letting Juno and Buddy slink ahead as she waited for Jet.
It’s Buddy who heard it first. The hair over her face shifted imperceptibly as her ears flick, and she has to raise a hand to ensure it stays pinned in place. The motion is instinctive; Juno doubted she even knew that she was doing it. He forced his eye ahead, signaling with a nod as they fell into step.
The sound, as they got closer, was barely a cough. Calling it a wheeze would still be generous, and assuming it was breathing would be downright optimistic.
“Rita!” Buddy called sharply, waving their cleric down with a flick of her hand once she saw the woman in the back most cell. Her hair seemed brown from dirt alone, her chest rising and falling at painful intervals Juno was familiar with from one too many broken ribs. Rita scurried to the cell, Jet following just behind.
“Don’t- touch me-“ the woman wheezed, chains rattling as she pulled herself into the back corner of her cell. Her knees were tucked up to protect her chest and stomach, chained wrists and hands raised to block her face. Buddy made no attempt to get closer- just stepping aside to allow Juno to work the lock.
“It’s just me, ma’am. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” Rita promised, hustling forward. None of them moved to follow her into the cell, but it didn’t make the woman any less defensive. Even her teeth were bared.
“Yeah? And you want me to believe that?” she snapped back. Rita paused just a gnome-sized step away.
“I hafta touch you to heal you, but I won’t touch you again after that, promise,” she said, smile wavering in the minute way Juno recognized as sadness. It was a smile he’d seen a few times from her, usually directed at himself. The kind of smile she pulled out at the moments when it was hardest to smile.
The woman didn’t lose a shred of tension, but it gave her pause. “You’re a weird one.”
“Weird but good,” Juno agreed. “Best healer we’ve got, unless you’ve got a better option here we’re missing.”
“And what do you get for healing a random stranger you found in a prison cell?” It took more energy than she had to get the whole sentence out, but her fists clenched tighter anyways. Juno sighed.
“Here,” he said, tugging a dagger from his belt and passing it forward, handle first. Rita took it slowly, blinking confusedly at him.
“Mistah Thief?”
“Pass it to her. If Rita tries anything other than healing you, you’ve got my permission to stab her.” The prisoner just blinked at him. Juno waited a second for Buddy or Jet to chastise him — when none came, he let his arm drop back to his side.
“Yeah. Okay,” the woman in the cell answered, accompanying each word with a derisive snort. Still, she took the dagger, positioning it best she could with her wrists chained over bones too visible to be healthy. “Go ahead, healer.”
Rita took that final step, small hands shaking as she laid one, gentle as could be, on the woman’s shoulder. Juno’s dagger in the prisoner’s hand remained pointed, shaking, at Rita’s heart. Meanwhile, under his cloak, Juno’s own hand rested on another dagger still sheathed in his belt.
“All better! Oh man- those ribs were all busted up in there, huh?” Rita steps back immediately once she’s done, the light from her holy symbol not yet faded.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The prisoner’s voice was no less raspy, but her breathing seemed to stabilize, chest rising and falling without the hitching of pain.
“Now, darling, if you’d be so kind, I’d quite like your name and a bit more of a guarantee that you aren’t going to attack us before I have my dear brother here unchain you,” Buddy intervened, stepping forward. Her bow was still slung over her shoulder — visible, but not readied. Juno and the rest of The Carte Blanche knew well how fast she could swing it into position with an arrow notched and aimed, but from the way this woman looked at Buddy, it seemed she got the idea. Her eyes were wide, mouth slack, her whole body beginning to unfurl.
Except- that wasn’t fear. Juno hadn’t seen that kind of fear from this woman yet. And now certainly wouldn’t be the time to be afraid, not after they’d armed and healed her-
Oh.
Ohhh.
Juno had another type of distrust for this prisoner, this kind entirely unrelated to the violent instinct and questionable location they’d found her in.
“Vespa,” the woman breathed, giving her head a shake, her eyes coming back to Buddy every time she tried to look away. “That weird cult threw me in here.”
“Just for shits and giggles?” Juno prompted, knife unsheathed and twirling through the air as he flipped it.
“Juno,” Buddy warned, teasing him with a side-eye. It was rare for him to stand on the side of her good eye; they used to only trust one another to stand in their blind spots. Rita had been able to worm into their trust with ease, but the fact that Jet had managed, large as he was, had almost been a surprise.
“Because I tried to kill someone,” Vespa answered, voice a growl as she turned to Juno. “A doctor involved with the cult that I had business with before.”
“Did this doctor deserve it?” Buddy asked coolly.
“Definitely,” Vespa agreed, voice just as rough even if she couldn’t help but light up when she turned back to Buddy.
“Well, darlings? Is that good enough for us?” she declared, turning back to Jet and Rita.
“I am happy to release this prisoner on the condition that she helps us to find and manage this cult,” Jet answered. He turned to Vespa. “Am I wrong in assuming you would want revenge for your imprisonment?”
To Juno, Jet looked bad. He could tell his skin was the wrong shade of gray, his skin loose and muscles sagging with exhaustion. Jet’s nightmares had been waking them all up in the night, but no one was suffering from sleeplessness to the degree of their goliath.
Vespa just stared at him, obviously struggling to get a read. There was a chance she’d never before encountered a goliath, that she didn’t have a good basis to compare Jet’s even, mannered tone or drooping, sallow skin to.
“Does the cult have something to do with you looking like shit?” she asked. Juno stifled a noise unsuccessfully, but Jet just coughed out a laugh. His voice had been raspy for days, no matter how often Buddy and Juno shoved their waterskins into his massive hands.
“Yes, if indirectly so. The cult has one of the materials I need to cure this affliction.” Vespa nodded.
“I’ll help. If you let me out,” she said finally, speaking to Juno but eyes still drifting to Buddy on the regular. Buddy nodded at Juno, and he crept forward slowly, removing his lockpicks.
“Same thing goes for me, alright? I try anything other than unlocking you, you get to stab me,” Juno rambled before kneeling down and starting in on the locks.
“Very generous of you,” Vespa shot back.
“Yeah, always been the giving sort,” Juno agreed, removing his picks and pulling the chains free with a finger. “And there we go.” He stood again and held out a hand. Vespa, wicked smirk on her face, spun the dagger back around and slapped the handle into his palm, using the wall beside her to heft herself to her feet.
“Welcome to The Carte Blanche, Vespa,” Buddy said, spreading her arms wide. The look Vespa gave her in return was probably much more dopey than she’d been trying for. For a second, Juno could see that look in her eyes- the one they’d all made, to some extent, upon meeting Buddy Aurinko. The something in her confident, cocksure stance that convinced you that, if someone like this was on your side, you could deal with anything. It’s been a long time since Juno first met Buddy, and sometimes he forgot the dizzy feeling he first felt when he saw her in Saturn. Vespa, experiencing it for the first time, (and what was undoubtedly the first of many times) looked like she was still waiting for her world to stop spinning.
“Yeah?” Vespa said in response, almost stunned. Juno snorted, and she spun on him just as quickly, brow narrowing.
“The hell do you think you are?” she spat, hand finding the wall for balance as she moved.
“The name's Juno,” he offered, flipping the dagger she’d been holding before quickly resheathing it. From the corner of his vision, he saw Buddy roll her eyes.
“My little sister,” Buddy added, catching Vespa’s attention yet again. “I’m Buddy Aurinko. This is my associate, Jet Siquliak.” Jet gave a gentle nod, still hanging back from the rest of the group.
“And I’m Rita!” their cleric added, holding a hand out for Vespa to shake. She’d made herself small in the corner of the cell while Juno had worked on the lock, but now she swelled again to full size, hair wild and armor smacking noisily.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Vespa answered stiffly. Rita gave her a second before retreating the proffered hand, her smile no lesser for it.
“Do you have possessions you need us to retrieve?” Jet asked from his position in the back. Even with Buddy’s not inconsiderable heels, he was able to see easily over all of their heads. Vespa nodded, taking her first steps towards the cell door. Her feet were bare, but from the way her teeth were bared, Juno knew better than to offer assistance.
“They kept my stuff in the room off to the left there,” Vespa explained, pointing them with a jut of her chin as her hands are occupied with keeping her balance against the cell bars. Jet extended a giant hand, his waterskin clutched between shriveling fingers. For a moment, Vespa only blinked at him.
“What the big guy’s got isn’t contagious,” Juno said, following Rita out of the cell. Vespa growled at him again, all but snatching the waterskin from Jet’s hand and taking a swig. She returned it with a mumbled thanks, motions gentler.
“Shall we then?” Buddy suggested, and they made their way to collect Vespa’s remaining possessions. They all pretended that their pace was intentional, but everyone but Rita was obviously slowing their stride for Vespa’s sake.
Juno doesn’t know what to think of Vespa’s strange weapon. He’s a fan of the noise it makes; no better distraction than a woman wreathed in smoke and screeching with explosion. Rita was intrigued, and he’s certain Jet was too, in his silent, diminished-by-poison way. Buddy stared just a bit longer than Juno liked when Vespa fought. Not in a way that could compromise her own flawless aim, of course, but they both stood so confidently off to the side, raining hellfire down on their enemies. And Juno couldn’t help the swell of jealousy.
“That was great Captain A!” Rita cheered as Buddy scooped up the heart from the cult’s summoned Night Mare. Buddy chuckled, tucking the heart safely into their Bag of Colding. She flicked the excess blood of her hands, reaching into her own pack for a rag to handle the rest.
Juno, kneeling beneath her, hands and knives still scarlet from cutting out the heart, spat at the ground, face spattered with blood. “Yeah, thanks, Captain.”
“We’re not-” Vespa heaved, lying face up in the grass. “-Even on a boat.” The moment the final cultist had dropped, felled by a clever blow to the back of the knee by Rita’s morningstar, Vespa had followed suit.
“You doin okay Miss Vespa?” their cleric asked, stepping forward. “Your chest is movin real fast.”
“I’m laughing, healer, not dying,” Vespa replied, one hand thrown over her eyes, her strange weapon clutched tight in the other while it rested on her chest. After a pause, she continued, “But if you have a spare bit of healing-”
“Oh sure,” Rita agreed, fishing in her shirt collar for her holy symbol. She knelt alongside Vespa, hands clasped around her necklace and tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth while she focused.
“What kind of god are you a cleric of anyways?” Vespa asked, pulling herself upright as the healing glow settled. “Why does your magic smell like- fish?”
“Oh! Well I spent some time on a fishing vessel- that’s why I call Captain A Captain A! And it’s not just fish, it’s salmon, which is my favorite!-”
“Rita worships a deity not many have heard of,” Buddy added, making sympathetic eye contact with Vespa.
“Oh yeah, Frannie’s the best!” Rita agreed, unphased by the interruption. “No one else’s heard of her, so it’s just the two of us and we’re best friends!”
“Frannie?” Vespa said slowly. “You call your patron by a nickname?”
“Why? Is that weird?”
“None of us have succeeded in getting Rita to share the full name of her deity,” Jet added, lumbering over to take a seat alongside Vespa, who scooted over nervously without taking her eyes off of Buddy.
“What? I’m sure I told you-” Rita began.
Before she could elaborate, their barbarian gave a heaving breath and crumbled to his knees.
Jet was wheezing, one massive hand grasping at his chest as if trying to catch hold of and remove some great weight. Rita quickly abandoned her explanation, scrambling over to his side.
“Oh no, oh, oh-” she stammered, hands resting for a second on Jet’s side before moving to a new place, flapping and buzzing like an insect. Even with their goliath kneeling, she could reach no higher than his elbow.
Buddy and Juno had let out similar exclamations, rushing to Jet and Rita’s aid.
“What’s going on?” Vespa cried out, clambering over to the best of her ability, still weak from her time in that cell. “This is what you needed that heart for?”
“Poison-” Buddy managed.
“Get him on his side,” Juno finished, barely a breath between his sister’s words and his own. Buddy’s hands were already on Jet’s side, already helping her sister (and to a lesser extent, Rita) to lower Jet to the ground. Had gravity not been on their side, it would’ve been an impossible task. Juno was fast, not strong, and Buddy’s arms shook with strain whenever she needed to lift something heavier than her longbow.
Jet heaved and spluttered, each breath rattling with coughs he didn’t have the energy to release. Each gag and gasp a precursor to retching that they all knew from experience wouldn’t bring up a thing. His eyes were clenched closed- the only part of his body Jet still had control over in situations like these. He didn’t like to see them worrying, hated seeing their panicked expression through his own pained tears. None of them spoke up until the tremors subsided, until Jet’s breaths came regularly and deep. Rita rubbed small circles on his back, her chattering somewhat subdued. The rest of them had scooted away, giving Jet what little privacy they could in such a situation.
“What kind of poison is this?” Vespa asked cautiously, looking to where Jet’s hands rested in the ground alongside him. His fingers were splayed, the skin stretched and going blue between the visible bones and corded muscle. “His fingernails look necrotic- have any of them fallen off?”
“Something Dark Matters gave him- not on the usual markets,” Juno said. “Addictive, so if you survive the poison, there’s still the withdrawal to finish you off.”
“A charming concoction, yes. Nearly as charming as the gentleman who’s offered to cure it for us. But now that we’ve finished his delightful shopping list, we have a few days to make it back to Cerberus and save our dear Jet,” Buddy finished. “Where is your next destination, if you don’t mind my asking?” Vespa paused.
“Well,” she began, following up with a wry laugh. “I’ve lost my lead because of that stupid cult.” There was a pause, her words petering out. Jet’s breathing became audible again in the absence of their discussion.
Juno glanced to Buddy, expecting to meet her eyes. Readying himself for the question he could feel, pushing at all three of them. Testing to see who had the guts to ask.
But Buddy was looking stubbornly ahead, analyzing Vespa’s crooked shoulders and sheepish, fading smile. Juno knew what she’d decided before she opened her mouth. He didn’t object- wouldn’t have, if she’d met his gaze and checked with him first.
But when Buddy said “Would you like to continue traveling with us to Cerberus?” and Vespa said “Yeah, sure,” in that breathless way she reserved only for Buddy, it felt like a betrayal.
When they finally retired for the night, Vespa laid her borrowed bedroll out far from everyone else. That, at least, Juno could understand. It had taken months of travel before he’d been comfortable sleeping where Jet and Rita could see him- longer still before he could sleep at all when they were on watch. He’d lived through those months with the chunks of sleep he could grab whenever Buddy took watch. When he knew that someone’s eyes were on his back at all times.
Surprisingly, Vespa was out cold in minutes. Rita had funneled the last reserves of her healing into the sharpshooter before they’d crashed for the night, but Vespa still twisted her wrists like they ached. Still held her shoulders like she expected them to slip out of place or be wrenched violently out of their socket by chains. Still, there were definitely no good nights of rest in a jail cell as rotting and cold as the one they’d busted her out of, and even Rita’s eyes were sagging with the weight of the nonsense they’d pulled today. The only person still conscious was Juno, cleaning his knives again and again, their weight familiar and calming as he unsheathed and slotted them back into place like a ritual.
It wasn’t his kind of nightmare, but Juno could tell when Vespa’s bad dreams caught up with her. When her sleep-of-the-dead slack expression suddenly wrenched into a frown, jaw locking in preparation. Her neck jolted, her hair flying loose around her head. She’d rinsed off in the river after their fight with the cultists, and while most of the dirt still clutched to her skin and clothing, the brown had washed free from her hair. The halo of white still clashed with her permanent scowl.
Her lips were moving now, bitten bloody as they were. She wasn’t saying anything he could hear, but her breathing had sped up and gotten loud enough for Juno to hear even with the distance she’d put between them.
Juno had just braced his hands on his knees to pull himself upright when her eyes flicked open. Her pupils were pinpricks despite the dark, and Juno remembered that she was blind out here, same as Jet. He’d spent so much time resenting his elf heritage for what it put him and Benten through that he regularly forgot that humans can’t see on moonlit nights like these. It had been the only perk of having a bastard like Palomine Aurinko as a father, the only thing that made being a half elf in Hyperion into something cool.
“Vespa?” he called out, voice low as he crouched over the fire. Letting her see the way the coals lit his face up, made him recognizable once her brain caught up with her body and woke up.
But those cornered animal eyes didn’t focus on Juno in the dark. They didn’t even flick around, unseeing, panicking. Vespa’s eyes trained on something just over his shoulder, something tall and, if the look on her face is anything to go on, terrifying.
Juno turned slowly, warily. Reaching for his blades and preparing himself for whatever monster crept up on him while he was distracted. (Stupid! You were supposed to be on watch! What got through while you weren’t paying attention?)
There was nothing there but empty space.
When he turned back to Vespa, she’d turned over, facing the darkness away from him. The top of her white crown of hair was all that poked out over the blanket.
Juno didn’t bring it up in the morning. He sat, shoulders tense, not meeting Vespa’s gaze. If the way she stared at him when he took a seat opposite her was any indication, she remembered the interaction same as he does. Her narrowed brows—as white as her hair—dared him to be the one to bring it up.
As always, it was Buddy who stopped the fight before it could even begin.
“My brother isn’t the only one here with quick fingers,” Buddy teased, dropping Vespa’s coin purse on the ground before her with a clatter.
“Big talk from the woman who taught me, oh, let’s say half of what I know?” Juno shot back from the other side of the fire. Buddy shrugged.
“You were picking pockets long before you ever met me. I just taught you how to stop getting caught.”
“It’s yours,” Vespa said in a rush. “You’ll probably do a better job keeping track of it than me anyways.” Buddy blinked at her, for once at a momentary loss for words.
“Are you certain, darling?” Vespa blushed, looking away as she nodded.
“Damn. Sure that isn’t why you ended up in that jail cell, Vespa? Blind stupidity?”
She whipped her head back around, teeth bared. “Can it, thief!”
Juno liked Vespa- liked her in the way you like an annoying older sibling. Their bickering was comforting, familiar. Juno was used to being a pest. Vespa was used to being pestered. And for both of them, it was something bittersweet.
But every time Vespa’s eyes alit on Buddy, and her whole face lit up, Juno felt his jabs get meaner. Felt his jokes go cruel.
All that was to say, he didn’t trust Vespa Ilkay. But he didn’t trust himself enough to tell Buddy. Not when that could just be his own fear choking him.