~MOUSE~
The first rays of dawn filtered through the small window, casting a gentle glow on the worn-out concrete room.
Ophelia stirred, her eyes sore and aching behind her eyelids.
The soft hues of sunrise seemed to trigger something within her, and she sprang up with a sudden burst of energy, her mind whirring and eyes still heavy from a sleepless night.
She hadn't slept at all.
The weight of silence clung to her, threatening to engulf her in quiet solitude.
It was a battle against the stillness that left her feeling like she was drowning in her own thoughts.
She needed to move, to break the oppressive hush that clung to her.
She needed noise. Voices. Sound.
Dropping to the ground, Ophelia retrieved her duffel.
In swift, deliberate motions, she extracted baggy black cargo pants and a matching sports bra adorned with the French Army symbol.
The urgency in her movements was palpable as she darted toward the bathroom with cat-like grace, a stark contrast to the quietude that enveloped her surroundings.
Unlike König, who lay undisturbed in his slumber, Ophelia's every step was a whisper.
He didn't stir once.
The bathroom door closed behind her, and she shed her sleeping clothes with a sense of urgency, trading them for the black attire.
In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the slight grey shadows beneath her eyes, a testament to the night spent battling the encroaching silence.
Fucking Colonel. She seethed as she pushed her curls from her eyebrow.
Ignoring her fatigue, she emerged from the bathroom, only to be met by König sitting up in bed, his gaze fixed on the spot where she had been lying a few moments ago.
He turned when he noticed her standing near his bed, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
She moved past him without acknowledgment, her focus on the task at hand.
She needed to get out of the room.
Boots and socks adorned her feet with practised speed, laces pulled tight.
She felt the weight of his bewildered gaze on her, yet she pressed on, refusing to engage.
Blood was in her lungs and she needed it to leave.
If she didn't leave now she would likely have a panic attack, and she'd rather throw herself off the cliffs adorning the island than let him see that.
Ophelia jumped from her bed and ran towards the door, boots fastened on her feet.
She saw him flinch out of the corner of her eye and move forward as if to stop her.
She didn't stop.
The door opened, and Ophelia sprinted out into the hallway, her destination clear.
The mess hall and the small training room.
She ran the whole way, not slowing once as she sprinted through endless corridors.
A grin stretched across her face when she spotted Zero in the makeshift kitchen, a pot of coffee in hand.
His eyes met hers with warmth as he smiled widely at her entrance.
"Forgot what it's like not being the only one awake," he said warmly as he got another white cup from the cupboard in front of him and poured the pure black coffee into it.
He offered it to her, and she accepted it swiftly.
"Shukran," Thank you. She said quietly as she downed half of it in a single, determined gulp.
The sound of approaching heavy boots, fidgeting hands and quietness signalled König's entrance into the mess hall, clad in olive cargo pants and a grey baggy shirt.
His sniper hood framed his focused and unreadable expression but she could feel his eyes on her.
He seemed to stop in the doorway, eyes on her as he stood still.
Had he come straight there from their room?
She didn't look at him just tipped the coffee back and didn't breathe as she drank it.
"Wow, Kid, the coffee's not that good, it's instant shit, not gahwa," Zero remarked as he watched her slam the cup back down on the bench.
Ophelia said nothing as she slumped forward on the bench, her eyes tired and her head pounding.
"Rough night?" Zero asked as he refilled her cup.
She tried not to throw her arms around him in a hug.
Coffee was a big deal to them both.
It held cultural significance and meaning.
The fact he poured it for her, a woman, with a smile showed his care for her more than words could.
"Didn't sleep," she replied, her eyes reflecting the exhaustion she tried to mask.
In the doorway, she heard König go stiff.
His distinct heavy footsteps froze. His attention was seemingly elsewhere as his body went rigid.
Ignoring it, Ophelia turned to Zero, her gaze meeting his.
"Need an extra bunkmate?" she asked, hopeful but met with a scoff as Zero continued with his breakfast preparations.
"Absolutely not," he laughed, dismissing the idea, but Ophelia persisted.
"Mn fadlik, ma nqdarsh nnam fiha." Please, I can't sleep in there. She implored, meeting Zero's eyes with sincerity.
His gaze pierced through her, a silent understanding passing between them.
He saw something in her gaze that made his small smile fall.
"Fmash laha ʿalāqa bāl-jarḥ el-kabīr illi ʿāla ḍuhrk w bimā smaʿt ʿala ḥisāb firīqk?" Does this have anything to do with the massive scar on your back and what I heard about your team? Zero's voice softened, and Ophelia felt the vulnerability within her surface.
She hadn't seen Zero since before she had the scar.
Ophelia nodded, allowing him a glimpse into the pain she carried.
The air was thick with tension as she looked up at him, her eyes revealing the weight of pain and need.
"Ma nqdarsh nkūn fi smet." I can't be in silence. She admitted, her voice carrying the echoes of haunting memories.
The room seemed to shrink as those words hung in the air, each syllable a testament to the battles fought within her soul.
His gaze, a mixture of concern and understanding, traced over her like a gentle breeze.
The seconds stretched into a hesitant pause before he found the words to respond to the vulnerability she had laid bare.
"Roze ʿandha moshkilha el-khāṣṣa." Roze has her own problems. He began, choosing his words with care.
"Ma nqdarsh nkhruj nahajem houdoudha, w laken nqol lك anna lkunba hna khālīya kull layāli w raḥ tkūn meryḥa jdida. W tsma' el-ashjar w el-baḥr bara." I can't invade her boundaries, but I can tell you that the couch out here is free all night and is very comfortable. And you can hear the trees and ocean outside. His voice was a soft whisper so that no one else could hear but her.
Her eyes widened, absorbing the offer like a parched desert soaking in the first raindrops.
The corners of his lips curled into a reassuring smile, a gesture that seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to her.
That's what she loved about Zero.
He didn't ask what happened, just helped her when she needed it.
"Shukran," Thank you. She said sincerely, her voice soft with gratitude.
His gaze traced over her as if trying to figure out what was wrong, she just stared up at him with impassive eyes.
She wasn't ready yet.
"Ma ʿalik, ya ṣghīr." It's okay, Kid. He said as he handed her some bread and butter.
Their sanctuary was abruptly intruded upon by the lively entrance of Klaus, Roze, and Oni.
"Come on, you two, English, please! The rest of us can't understand you," Klaus declared, his voice a jovial interruption to the intimate atmosphere that had enveloped the room.
The trio wore expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement as they joined the gathering.
Ophelia exchanged a rueful smile with her silent companion, the unspoken understanding between them echoing in that shared glance.
He wouldn't tell them what she said.
A silent pact existed between them, a promise to safeguard the vulnerability she had entrusted him with.
Zero, with a mischievous glint in his eye, laughed and nonchalantly bit into his bread.
The casual act was a stark contrast to the weight of the words exchanged just moments ago.
"Mouse was asking why the food here is so shit," he declared with a playful smile.
She joined in with a smile, a nod affirming the accuracy of Zero's translation.
Roze, the embodiment of grace, made her way toward the kitchen, a smile playing on her lips.
Ophelia exchanged a nod with her, a silent acknowledgment as they crossed.
As Roze disappeared into the kitchen, Ophelia found herself perched on the small metal table in the sitting area, her legs dangling above the ground.
She bit into the bread, savouring the simple pleasure of sustenance.
Oni, with a subtle Japanese accent colouring his words, spoke for the first time.
"Because none of us can cook," he confessed with a rueful smile.
Ophelia's expression shifted from contentment to shock as she turned to face him.
"None of you can cook?" she exclaimed, disbelief etched on her features.
The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by the shared shrugs of the others.
Just as she was about to laugh, Ophelia heard the door to the mess hall slam closed with swift aggression.
The lively chatter and laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by an uneasy stillness as the room's occupants turned their attention towards the door.
Ophelia's head snapped around, eyes widening as she caught sight of König vanishing from the mess hall and into the corridor.
Had he been standing there watching that whole time?
The banging of the door's echo lingered in the air like an unanswered question.
A heavy punctuation mark to the previously light-hearted atmosphere.
He'd been standing there staring, then stormed away as if pissed off by her mere presence.
Ophelia grit her teeth as she turned away from the door.
There was no doubt about it.
He was....odd.
~~~~~~~~~~