Chapter Text
Breathe in
Breathe out
Like water
Like air
I am alive
My mind feels calm, peaceful, and quiet.
I’m learning what my body needs and how to take care of it.
Asking for help is not a weakness.
I am -
V flinched. The string of thoughts was broken by the creak of the porch railing. Joss turned her head to the side, unaware her usual smoke breaks had caused new attention.
“Oh, hey, Joss.” V stood from the exercise bench and leaned her weight into her elbows onto the railing. Her nails clinked against the metal, trying to calm herself back down, “Remember how I said no more strange cars in the driveway?”
“Yes…” Joss turned her head back, cigarette smoke meeting the summer air.
“Preem. Someone is gonna be around to fix the generator in like fifteen.” V smiled
“I said not to be blowing eddies on us, too.”
“I'm not.” V sat back down and fully laid herself out on the bench, “but if it breaks one more time this year, I will be. Just,” she rubbed her eyelids, “let someone who knows what they're doing look at it, okay?”
“I’m gonna tell Riv you said that.”
“I know,” they turned to look at each other with knowing smiles. Joss shook her head and chuckled.
The hot morning created a warming oven under the metal awning. Perfect for V, keeping her body consistently warm for a while. The black plastic soaked up the sun, keeping the blood in her legs flowing. Joss tolerated it. It was not quite hot enough to drive someone to take everything and their skin off, so not hot enough for her to not be outside. Just enough to brave exposing her aims and break out a plain t-shirt.
“Where’d you find someone willing to come out here? If not for the money.” Joss took another drag.
“He works for Claire,” V rolled on to her stomach and laid her head on her hands, “just brought it up the other day. Seemed fair, and safe. I’m his boss’s boss, so even if I wasn't me, he can’t fuck us over without the threat of-” she bit the air and mimed spitting out a bite, like an angry dog.
“Look at you always using those powers for good.”
“I’m tryin’. And look at you sounding like the kids’ games.”
“I’m tryin’.”
Another jolt of laughter faded into a breeze blowing through the patio. Vs head bobbed against her arms, eyes struggling to stay open.
“Well, I'm gonna fall asleep out here if I'm not careful.” V smiled and pulled herself up and walked towards the back door. The kid's laughter leaked though as she opened it and walked inside.
If she said anything else, Joss didn't hear she'd almost mistaken the truck for River's, if it wasn't for the yellow strip on the side and the smaller man driving. He parked in the same spot, too. Getting out, he pulled his dark hair up and fully exposed a tangled tattoo of eyes and tentacles on his throat. His shirt open in the front and sleeves rolled up, chest and stomach decorated with older ink. Slinging a metal box behind his shoulder, he turned to walk towards her before stumbling. Laughing down at himself, he walked over to her
“Am I in the right place? Was expecting to drown in bubblegum or blood.”
“So you're who V hired? I was expecting-” she took a moment to look him up and down. Something felt like these words would be important, and it didn't help that he was nice to look at, “fancier?”
“Ooh” he held his chest in mock pain. It forced him to realize just how fast his heart was beating. She smiled at him, and something clicked. For a moment, he forgot why he was there at all. His new job was to make her keep doing that.
“But you at least know about the generator, right?
“Oh yeah. ‘Course,” Twain moved over and placed himself on the ground in a spot near enough to the controls where he could still look at her, “It’s lookin’ old as hell, but I can fix it. Gonna have to get a little creative, is all.”
Joss could hear the kids playing inside. Not as loud as they normally could be, she thought to check in on them soon. Once her cigarette was finished, maybe.
“So you V’s sister?”
“You could say that, yeah.” she smiled again.
“Which letter you go by?”
“Good one.” she huffed in a half-laugh, “It's Joss. Are you this talkative with all your jobs?”
“Sorry. Thought it'd be better than singin’. I can't focus without making some kinda noise. People tend to take better to a conversation.”
“Is your singing that bad?”
“Well most of my singin’ is made for a campfire, ”he looked up from his work, but she had turned her head away from him, “not everyone's ideal listenin’.”
“You a nomad?” she clicked her tongue into her cheek, the searing wave of regret in saying those words along with every feeling that came to her.
“That I was.”
“Was?”
“Not what you're thinkin’.” he sighed into the words. He shook his head, brushed a damp strand of hair off his forehead, and turned his focus back to the machinery. “I always hated how people talk like there’s just one reason. Just…soul-searching is the best way to put it.”
“Well, it won't bother me. My son’s the same way. Well, the noise, not the style. Nothing I’d complain about.” she flicked the last ashes of the cigarette and gazed in the direction of Randy's trailer.
“Oh yeah?” He raised, “just you three out here?”
Her response was interrupted; a cat screeched loud enough to hear outside, followed by the shattering of glass. Joss yelled out for her kids and ran inside.
Ah, shit. I'm done for.
Twain considered following her. He wanted to. Maybe he would have, if not for a clank of the metal in his arm sparking against the generator. The connections were jury-rigged, maybe too well, tied just right to keep the thing running for a while longer. Without much thought, there wasn't much left he needed to do, except close the thing up and run the final tests. He didn’t want to be done, though. This felt too natural. Something tugged on him to stay. Something hidden in her brown hair and breathing smoke, there was still something he needed to know. The thought crossed his mind: undo something. Breaking it just enough to stay, maybe even come back later, then tomorrow, then the day after. He pulled his hands away, shaking them into gathering a strategy before picking a vulnerable spot and pulling it through.
“Fuck!” a spark of electricity jumped through his hand, immediately turning the burned, bubbling red.
—
“It’ll be fine, really. Just another scar for my collection.” Twain gritted his teeth, still managing to smile as Joss pressed a cold rag against the wrapped wound. Dorian sat next to him at the table, his own hand wrapped in bandages, while Monique cradled a dazed Nibbles.
“Y'know you…” Joss paused, turning his hand over to cool the inside. She looked up, now close enough to notice the Kiroshi logo bordering his iris, “you never said your name.”
“Twain. It’s Twain. Most my friends call me Twiggy. So, take your pick.” he responded,
“Did you hurt that hand too?” Dorian's voice hitched, reaching for the metal lining Twain’s arm.
“Oh that? No, ‘s supposed to look like that.”
“...what is it?”
“ ‘s called a Projectile Launch System. Lot of moving parts in there, see?” he leaned the arm on his knee to give Dorian a better view. A smile had unwittingly spread across his before looking up at the child’s wide eyes and remembering this was, in fact, a child, “it’s like a firework,” he spat out.
“I wanna see!” Monique perched herself over Dorian's shoulder.
“Maybe not the best time,” he chuckled, “I think we’ve all caused enough fun for one morning. ‘Sides, it’s empty anyway, so all it'd be is weird muscles and wires,” Twiggy said with a tingle of hope he'd want to look anyway but squeezed his fist around his thumb to keep the thought in.
“He’s right, and you should probably go give Nibbles back to V. He’ll feel better if he can get some lunch. We all will.”
“Sweet kids” Twain pressed his grip into the bandage and watched them make their way down the hall.
“Thanks” she rolled her eyes, “thanks for letting them use your med kit. I swear I had one somewhere in here-”
“Hey Joss” He said, dropping any filter he had left without taking his eyes off her, “are you single?”