Before the War

Not What He Expected

Rhys had a rather spectacular habit of impulsiveness. Not that he ever really meant to be, of course.

And it wasn't like it had ever really done him any favours. Left him stranded on a desert planet with his best friend and two con women just as eager to get their hands on the case of money Rhys and Vaughn had brought as to strangle them once they got said case.

But as it turned out, for once his impulsivity had been an asset. After all, if it wasn't for him they wouldn't even been given the opportunity to go into an alien Vault. Hell, the sextet would not have even met each other if he hadn't decided getting a damn promotion was more important than laying low at Hyperion for another day.

And he didn't have too many regrets about it.

Then again, a year tended to soften some blows. Hell, it was easy to look back at all that had happened as merely part of a grander adventure. A chaotic adventure that had nearly gotten them killed numerous times....but still.

Funnily enough, despite his impulsive nature, Rhys hated the unexpected. He had set up his existence even prior to Hyperion to be ordered and precise. To make sure everything and everyone were in their proper place.

He liked structure. Sue him.

So to say he was a little unnerved when he came to the realization that perhaps a certain con woman did not fit into his categorization as "no class, scheming Pandoran scum", would be the understatement of the decade.

Because Christ. It was Fiona. Fiona, the woman who had nearly screwed him out of his money back when they first met, who with her lunacy had turned his world on its axis.

I mean, Sasha had too, but for some reason that had been an easier pill to swallow. Probably because it was the path of least resistance to him.

Hell, he could see something happening between them, despite the circumstances.

But with Fiona? Christ. That would be like gambling against someone with their loaded dice. No possibility of success.

And besides, he didn't want that. He didn't want her.

Except he wasn't so certain of that anymore. If a damn month had changed his perspective on things, then that mere fortnight Fiona and him had trudged through the desert was akin to being given his new ECHO eye. Bringing everything into sharp focus.

Such as the fact that when he saw that gun placed to Fiona's head he tried to get to his feet, calculating how to attack Kroger. Bash his brains in, protect her. It hadn't even been a conscious thought, just a pressing need.

Because shit. He genuinely cared.

It only got clearer once they were all reunited. And Rhys was stunned at himself once he saw Sasha again.

Because he could honestly say all he felt was...nothing. No traces of lingering feelings. Just a warm happiness to see an old friend again.

So when Fiona asked him to keep away, he accepted without hesitation. He expected her to elaborate on it, but for some reason she didn't.

And that actually bothered him.

Because as they walked up that staircase leading to the casket, all he felt was a different kind of warmness. And it spilled over into his words, and it would have been horrific if Fiona had not responded in kind.

And it startled him. Gloriously.

When he offered his hand to her to help her get up to the case, he expected her to slap it away. Say she was fine.

But then she took it, and he couldn't help but grin. The words poised on his lips, to tease her about it.

The words died as she looked at him, those pale green eyes glinting in the light of the Vault.