WINDFALL: An Entry Point AU

Part 1: OVERTURE

"I mean," Rose began, her voice low, eyes reflecting the flickering firelight, "just two people sitting by a campfire, with nothing to run from and no blood on their hands. This could've been us."

You exhaled, the breath visible in the cold night air. "But it wasn't. And maybe it never could've been."

She chuckled dryly, poking the fire with a stick. "You think we're too broken for normal, [y/codename]?"

You were silent for a beat, listening to the woods whisper their nocturnal secrets. "I think normal was never an option. Not for people like us."

A chuckle split between you, a first in a while for you, and definitely a first in a long time for Rose. In fact, you had never seen her laugh before; smile calculatingly victorious, yes, laugh, never. You had made her laugh.

"You know," she sighed, "you never told me your actual name before."

You gave her an awkward glance. "What?"

She folded her arms. "Yeah. Always knew you as [y/codename], but never as your real name."

You waited for a bit, then you finally confessed. "It's [Y/N]."

The fire's glow painted soft lines across Rose's face, her laughter fading into a thoughtful silence. She leaned back, the old chair creaking slightly beneath her. The embers crackled, sending occasional sparks upward, lost in the vast Norwegian night.

She repeated your name softly, as if tasting it for the first time. "Huh. [Y/N]." The way she said it was different, gentler, and it carved out a space in the cold air between you both.

You gave a half-smile, shrugging slightly. "It's just a name, Rose."

But it wasn't just a name. It was a piece of you untouched by Halcyon, by the blood and shadows you'd both waded through. A fragment of something genuine amidst everything you'd left behind.

"You can call me by Rachael, you know." She smiled.

"Yeah, I know, it's just," you paused, "It's gonna take a while to get used to that, to this..."

The fire's embers dwindled, casting faint shadows that danced along the edges of your weathered faces. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and heavy all at once. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, staring into the flickering remnants of flame.

"Rachael," you again said quietly, testing the name on your tongue. It felt foreign yet fitting, a name stripped of code and pretense. She glanced at you, her smile soft and genuine—a rare sight in the world you'd both left behind.

The night deepened, stars puncturing the dark sky in scattered constellations. The weight of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, settled over you. Eventually, you both retreated into the cabin, the wooden floor creaking under your steps. You climbed onto the firm, slightly dusty bed together, and tucked in with the linen duvet Sparrow had given you before saying goodbye.

Once again, you saw Rose—Rachael out asleep, breathing gently with her face dimly lit through the window by the fire still outside. Her tactical director and carefree personalities seemed to just disappear, replaced by a simple girl who had been scarred by the shadow war and Halcyon.

You too had shared your foul experiences with Halycon: Wren luring you to your grave to try and kill you, setting up explosives to get revenge on them, defecting away from them after what they did to Rose.

How they nearly killed Rose.

It shook you up in the middle of the night, and you found yourself staring at the ember lit darkness of the cabin. Rose still laid gently by your side, at peace with slumber, but you weren't. You finally went outside and doused the flames out with a bucket and some water from a nearby well before heading back in and burying your face in the thick pillow.

"Is everything alright?" Rachael yawned wearily.

You hesitated, the weight of her question lingering in the dark like a shadow refusing to fade.

"Yeah," you whispered, though it was more to convince yourself than her. The muffled rustle of the duvet followed as you turned onto your back, staring at the wooden ceiling, tracing imaginary constellations in the patterns of the old wood.

Rachael shifted slightly, the bed creaking under her movement. "You don't have to lie to me, you know. Not here. Not anymore."

Her words settled heavily between you. In the dim light, you could barely make out her silhouette as she propped herself on one elbow, watching you with those sharp, observant eyes softened by sleep.

You clicked your tongue to your palate before answering: "I had a nightmare or a few."

"Nightmare about what?" Classic Rose, egging you on for information.

You stared into the darkness for a moment longer, the shadows dancing faintly from the dying ember glow outside. The memories clawed at the edges of your mind, fragmented echoes of screams, fire, and betrayal stitched together by the chaos you'd lived through.

"About Halcyon," you finally muttered, voice low and rough. "About Wren. About... losing you."

"...oh."

Rachael remained silent for a beat, the weight of your words sinking into the fragile, newfound peace of the cabin. Then, she shifted closer, her warmth radiating through the thin barrier of the duvet. Her hand found yours beneath the sheets, fingers lacing together without hesitation, grounding you in the present.

"You wanna talk about it now, or...?" A subtle blush crept up on her cheeks. At the same time, you had your own... amongst other reactions.

"Maybe tomorrow." You mumble.

"Okay then, well..." her grip became slightly firmer, tighter, "if that's the case, then... goodnight."

"Mhm, goodnight..."

The cabin grew quieter, the silence stretching comfortably between you both. Rachael's hand stayed entwined with yours, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the chill sneaking in through the old wooden walls. You turned slightly, facing her in the dim light, your eyes meeting hers.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The words seemed unnecessary, weighed down by everything unspoken yet understood. The flickering ember outside cast faint shadows that danced across her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek, her silky red hair, the softness in her gaze that few had ever witnessed.

You leaned in slowly, hesitant at first, searching her eyes for any sign of reluctance. There was none—just a steady, quiet acceptance, mingled with the faintest trace of vulnerability. She met you halfway, her breath warm against your skin, until your lips connected.