chapter three
❝ only people watching ❞
FTSD
OCTOBER 25 ; 06:47 HOURS
MISSION COUNTDOWN : — 00:19 DAYS
SEVEN YEARS AGO
Commander Kade 'Frost' Kazansky led her squadron into the darkness. There was no moon tonight, the angry storm clouds swallowing up all light as rain thudded like fists against the canopy of her jet. The heavens were weeping tonight. Soon, Kade would be weeping too.
For now, in the radio silence of the mission, the woman was left with her own thoughts. Her eyes drifted to the picture taped to her dash, only the red lights of the panel illuminating the smiling faces of her family. Her parents were at the center of the photo, distracted from the camera, grinning up at their children behind them. Kade stood squashed between her little brothers, arms wrapped around each of them, dragging them close as they squirmed and laughed.
The perfect family.
Kade missed them. She hadn't seen them in three months, apart from their weekly video calls. Today was her dad's birthday, and she hated knowing she wasn't there to celebrate her 'most favorite person in the whole world'. But by this time tomorrow, the mission would be done and she would be home, wrapped in his arms, warm in his glow, safe in his house.
Kade would never make it home. Not really. Not ever.
Tonight, the old Kade Kazansky was going to die.
Suddenly Comanche broke into their radio silence — which was never a good sign, "Warhawks, bandits inbound. Double group, hot. Six minutes to intercept."
Well sh—t. Frost's eyes narrowed into the dark night, scowling at the downpour.
"You're team leader, Frost." Apollo, her wingman, softly said, "It's your call."
Six minutes. Six minutes should have been enough time to get in and get out. Key words: should have.
Frost glanced out the glass of her canopy, the darkness enveloping her squadron, only able to make out their shapes when lightning flashed. They were all around her; one on either side with one just behind. They were as ready for the mission as she was. Besides the extensive training they had endured for this, the Warhawks were also some of the best d—mn pilots she had ever flown with. They had one shot at this; this chance would never happen again.
Her team could do this.
"Mission a go. Warhawks, assume attack formation." Making the decision, Frost slowly inhaled through her nose, "Warhawks set. Proceeding to targets."
The Bosnian countryside blurred by, the rain obstructing their vision, only the navigation system guiding them onward. The G forces climbed painfully as Kade led a brutal ingress over the grassy mountaintops and then dove nearly straight down into the steep canyon. The three buildings of the munitions factory sat at the very bottom of the thousand foot drop, empty apart from the cache of Soviet—era weapons. Empty and ready and waiting to be destroyed.
"Targets inbound." Frost eyed the dark earth approaching, flipping up the release latch, "Preparing for drop... in three, two, one. Bombs away."
Group by group, they dropped their three bombs, made a brutal turn, and then they were gone, screaming through the storm and back towards safety. Landing on the carrier in this weather was going to be hell.
The last in their formation, Berlin looked back to declare, "Target hit!"
Across their comms, a storm of cheers and shouts erupted — celebrating yet another success.
Frost exhaled softly, still as cool and collected as ever, "Nicely done, ladies and gents, now let's get the hell out of here."
"Copy, copy, goin' home!" Elvis cheered back, singing like the hounddog he was named after, "My feet are itching to get back home, I've had the desert fever since I've been gone—,"
Frost could practically feel Elvis' driver — the straight—laced, utterly humorless Judge — rolling his eyes at his WSO's antics. As for her, the blonde pilot could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth until Apollo mercifully cut into the second rate King of Rock and Roll's singing.
"So, how many is that now, Frosty? Twenty—three straight successful missions?" She could hear that famous sh—t—eating smirk in the tone of her wingman's voice, "Is that another promotion I see on the horizon?"
Frost fondly rolled her eyes, "Here we go..."
"Promotion means pay raise, baby!" Hurricane always spoke a little too loud, the pilot shouting over their comms, "Does that mean drinks are on you tonight, Commander?"
"Hell no." Frost grinned into her mask, arching one sharp brow, "The last time drinks were on me, you all got sh—t—faced, dropped me with a bill over three hundred bucks, and I had to be designated driver."
Hurricane cackled loudly, "Tough sh—t, baby. Sucks to be the best of the best, huh?"
"Look alive, everybody." Judge cut in, "We got company, eleven o'clock."
At the front of the formation, Frost followed her wingman's directions, squinted through the rain, and found two bogeys inbound at her left side. A strange feeling, one she wasn't used to, crept up from her stomach to her sternum and into her throat. She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but it felt a lot like... dread.
Apollo irritatedly murmured, "There's our friends."
"Too late, a—sholes!" Elvis sang mockingly, hooting and hollering.
Too late was right. The bombs had been dropped, but the mission wasn't over — not until they were all safely back on deck. Frost found her muscles coiling, shoulders straightening, preparing for a fight, but there was just... nothing. The bogeys weren't on the offensive. They were going slow and steady, even though they saw them, even though they had just blown their plant sky high. Something was very wrong with this.
A frown fought for control of her mouth, "I don't like the look of this, guys. Let's turn and burn."
"Aw, come on, Frost, we can take 'em—,"
Suddenly a squadron of jets blasted through their formation, tearing through the storm clouds below in a wild attack. Frost swallowed a yell and jerked her plane to avoid collision, the formation scattering at the sudden bombardment. The squadron broke in every direction as more and more planes came through the clouds, rolling in and locking onto them.
"Oh sh—t!"
"Five more — seven — no, nine more contacts." Frost called tightly, "2—8—0 at ten miles."
"D—mn it!" Apollo snapped breathlessly, fighting to avoid missile lock, "Where did they come from?!"
She grit her teeth in a wince, hissing, "We're outnumbered. Fall back, fall back now!"
It was eleven against four. Fall back didn't matter, it wouldn't save them, but she didn't have any other choice. It was going to be a battle all the way back to the carrier. At twenty—eight thousand feet, the planes circled each other wildly, snapping past one another like ends of bullwhips. They came down in a section attack with their cannons blazing. From her cockpit, everything looked choppy: bogeys slid past at incredible speed while missiles and guns blasted as planes scrambled for position. It was a brutal dogfight, more intense than Frost had ever seen, missiles and flares and gunfire going in every direction. It was like a mad hornet's nest, jets like bees swarming all over the sky.
"Talk to me, Apollo!"
"Break right, Frost, break right! Ten o'clock, ten o'clock!"
"Warhawk One defending—!"
"Judge, two more on your six—,"
"Apollo, same on your nose!"
"Elvis, tally, tally!"
"Warhawk Three defending!"
"Talk to me, Hurricane—,"
"On our six, Berlin!"
The dark earth spun, the horizon appearing and disappearing. With each hard turn, Frost groaned to keep blood in her brain, battling to keep from passing out as she defended herself and her pilots. The fight was hard, physical, exhausting. The extreme G forces — at least nine — flattened them all against their seats, causing their heads to weigh over a hundred pounds. Frost strained to turn her head and track another jet as it streaked past at Mach Four.
"Judge, break left! Evade, Elvis, evade, evade!"
"I can't, I can't see it—!"
Boom! A brilliant flash and suddenly, out of nowhere, Judge and Elvis were blown apart by a missile. Just that fast, they were hit and started plummeting and then they were gone.
"Warhawk Three is hit! I repeat, Warhawk Three is hit! Judge and Elvis are down!"
Before Frost could even process the fact that they had crashed, Berlin was suddenly shouting, "We're hit, we're hit! Oh God, we're going—!"
Her voice cut off in static when the jet plummeted into the side of a mountain, exploding in a burst of fire and debris.
Voice strangled in her throat, Frost hoarsely shouted, "Warhawk Four, come in!"
Apollo yelled back in horror, "I don't see any chutes!"
"Berlin! Berlin, Hurricane, acknowledge." She demanded roughly, "Acknowledge!"
"They're gone, Frost! They're gone—,"
Gone, gone, gone. Judge, Elvis, Berlin, Hurricane; their blood was on her hands. Frost's chest heaved with wet sobs as she clutched furiously at the yoke, still desperately trying to survive the storm of jets and lightning around them.
"Holy God..." Apollo panted in her ear, "I'm out, Frosty — missiles, flares, guns, I'm done for!"
"Stay with me, Apollo." Her voice was choked with tears, "I'm gonna get you home, I promise you, just stay with me—!"
And then her wingman's jet was split in two. A missile blasted through the cockpit, splitting apart his engines and killing him instantly. Frost slammed her hand against the curve of the canopy, hoarsely screaming as she watched her wingman plummet towards the earth, already consumed in flames.
"Apollo!"
It was too late. It was all too late.
Frost didn't even try to evade when eleven enemy jets descended upon her.
She just closed her eyes, she held her breath, and she let them kill her.
Kade woke with a start, the callsigns of her dead squadron ringing in her ears. Over and over, on repeat, on a loop, with no chance of ever stopping. Judge. Elvis. Berlin. Hurricane. Apollo. Judge. Elvis. Berlin. Hurricane. Apollo. Judge. Elvis. Berlin. Hurricane— She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face deeper into her pillow like this could drown out her guilt. Her pain.
Kade's stomach roiled like on a stormy sea and her throat burned with bile, threatening a repeat of the dry—heaving session she had outside The Hard Deck. She wanted to vomit from the pain of this. Her burns and scars hurt more than usual this morning, aching all over her body — a psychosomatic reaction, apparently. Her brain's way of punishing her by imagining hurt. In reality, Kade knew the real pain was bone deep and there would be no soothing it.
Those six minutes in the sky set the course of the rest of her life, and ended theirs.
Kade was the team leader. It was her job to keep everybody safe. She let them down, every single one of them. In one of the most brutal dogfights in recorded Naval history, her whole squadron was killed. Everyone but Kade, found broken and bleeding in hostile territory by a rescue team. By then, it was too late. The blood of five innocent people was already on her hands.
'Are you still proud?' She wanted to ask her father, 'Are you still proud you're the father of a murderer?'
At the sudden feeling of a knee jammed into her spleen, Kade flinched, rolled over, and found she had a visitor. Her daughter was stretched out like a starfish, soft puffs of air drifting from her parted pink lips. Finch made a home for herself wherever she was, a genuine talent, one Kade herself wished she had. The little rascal crept into her bed last night around 3:00 AM, too excited about today to bother with sleeping.
With her parents at a doctor's appointment and her brothers at school, it was now 'Take Your Kid to Work Day'. Finch was thrilled. Kade was... less so. She felt so nervous, she was nauseous. She was really going to throw up.
With a soft grunt, she scooped up her daughter and laid her on her chest, running fingers through her tangled wispy hair. Slowly, Finch woke, scrunching her nose, stretching her fingers to her toes, blinking blearily up at her. Instantly, her girl grinned from ear to ear. It was a smile that Kade knew well. Finch looked a lot like her mother; that wide smile, sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, button nose, pale blonde hair. The only difference was those eyes. Green against blue. No one had green eyes in their family. It was the one distinction, the one hint of a father she would never identify.
Yawning, she asked, "What do you want for breakfast today, little bird? Eggs?"
"No."
"Toast?"
"No."
"Fruit?"
"No."
Kade made a face. This sudden diet shift was a new development. Her girl used to eat anything and everything with that bottomless pit of a stomach she had. Now, she didn't want a single thing they offered her. She had totally learned Tommy and Reece's picky eating habits. They probably taught her that on purpose. The vindictive dickheads.
Kade sighed, going for a last resort, "How about bacon?"
"Yeah, please." Finch absolutely beamed, "Bacon's the sh—t."
Kade was so going to kill Tommy and Reece.
An hour, a half, and a mild breakfast disaster later, mother and daughter arrived for a day at the office.
Finch watched everything with avid interest, bouncing on her tiptoes and pointing at pictures and asking questions about everything. It was to be expected; this was her first time on a Naval base, after all. Tom had wanted to take her in the past, but Kade wouldn't allow it. She didn't want her daughter anywhere near planes, anywhere near the d—mn Navy. And here she was, taking her to TOPGUN of all places.
Already, Kade could see that familiar love dawning in Finch's eyes.
She knew a future aviator when she saw one.
Kade clutched her daughter's hand tighter.
Then, suddenly, Finch tugged free and sprinted as fast as her little legs could go, yelling, "Pop!"
She zoomed around Kade and hurled herself into Maverick's waiting arms, earning a quiet 'oof' when he barely had time to catch her. He scooped the blur of a tiny human up quick enough, swinging her up above his head as she shrieked and scrambled for balance.
"I think I caught myself a mouse, Kadie." Uncle Pete announced concernedly, "This place really needs to call pest control."
"I'm not a mouse!"
"No?"
"No!" Finch giggled, trying hard to be indignant, "I'm a bird!"
He laughed, "Yes, you are."
Kade watched with a bittersweet smile, full of half—love, half—pain. Her dad couldn't really pick Finch up like that anymore; he had a hard time even standing on his own these days. All her childhood, Tom Kazansky always seemed larger than life, vital and strong. Impossible to knock down. It scared Kade to see her father so... fragile.
But there was Maverick, Iceman's wingman, backing him up as always.
Pete Mitchell was there the day Finch was born, a complicated day full of pain and tears, stepping up like a second grandfather to the girl. He sent her birthday and Christmas presents every year, talked to her whenever he called to check in, and dutifully provided piggy back rides each time he visited. These things, naturally, meant he had earned Finch's lifelong adoration.
Pulling her down from over his head, Pete set her on his hip so he could tickle at her tummy. The girl shrieked again and kicked her feet before winding her arms around his neck to squeeze him tight.
"Oof, you're getting strong, kid, how old are you now? 27? 43?" When she laughed with a shake of her head, Mav sighed good—naturedly and asked, "How you doing, Birdie? Behaving?"
"No."
"Well, at least you're honest, kid."
Uncle Pete winked at his pseudo—granddaughter before looking over at Kade with a more serious expression as they walked along. "So. Day two. What do you think so far, Commander?"
Carefully, Kade replied, "I think they're amazing pilots, Captain."
He knew her well enough to ask, "And?"
"And they have nearly no experience at dogfighting, and it shows."
Pete sighed in agreement, "We need to get you up in a jet."
"Sure." Kade huffed some halfway amused sound, "And that'll get both you and me court martialed."
But for some crazy reason, her uncle was completely serious. "The parameters of this mission mean more intense dogfighting than any of them have ever encountered. But that's not the case for you." Maverick's voice lowered for Finch's sake, but she was too busy studying the jets they were passing to notice, "You had three confirmed combat kills in under four years, Kade."
"Yes, why don't we add five more to that list while we're at it? I ended up losing my entire squadron because of my confidence after those three kills." The words felt far away as she spoke them, "I might not have pulled the trigger, but I got my squadron killed that day."
"Kade."
"I'm never flying again, Uncle Pete. They don't want me up there, and I'm starting to think they're right."
"Kid—,"
Sharply, in that no—nonsense tone she inherited from her father, Kade stressed, "Please, can we drop it?"
Maverick clearly did not want to drop it, but he did for her sake.
It was another rough day of training. As Pete took to the sky, Kade kept mostly to the office to avoid taking Finch onto the flight line. Not to mention how much she really wanted to avoid receiving strange looks and answering uncomfortable questions for the next eight hours.
Predictably, when his turn came, Hangman left his wingmen hanging just when they needed him so he could show off and do some of that cowboy bullsh—t. He nearly won the hop, sure, but he also got his team killed. If he kept going like that, it was going to get too dangerous for others to fly around him. He was going to get too dangerous.
She knew a dangerous aviator when she saw one.
Kade couldn't start caring about him. About any of them, really. It would hurt that much worse when something happened on this impossible mission with a near certainty for death. She could not allow herself to care or be close to them.
When Fanboy and Payback cracked a joke or told some (probably made up) story, Kade tried to hold back laughter. When Bob bought herself from the vending mission, she had to stop herself from gushing with thankfulness. When Phoenix did something particularly impressive in the sky, she could not allow herself to sound anything more than professional. When Coyote teased or delivered a particularly smooth line, she forced herself to remain impassive. When Bradley looked at her from across the room, she had to forget that she spent her childhood looking up to him. And when Hangman gave her that smile, she had to force herself to hate him.
Caring about them was much easier than hating them.
Halfway done with her third report, Kade suddenly noticed how suspiciously quiet everything was. Slowly, cautiously, she looked up. The room was empty. The door was open. Finch was gone. Instantly, her vision swam and her chest tightened when she bolted to her feet. Kade Kazansky was once ice cold. She remained cool and collected in times of danger, had the patience of a saint, could think through any crisis. Where the hell did she go? She was lost with Finch.
Kade spiraled, immediately thinking of worst case scenarios. What if she got into a restricted area and got stuck? What if she wandered on the tarmac and got run over by a plane? Or what if... he came for her? What if he took her? She would never be able to find her. She wouldn't even know who to look for. Lost in her head, Kade rushed into the hallway and crashed into an immovable wall dressed in a flight suit.
"Sh—t!"
It was Bradley. Just her luck.
"Whoa, whoa—," the much taller man gripped her shoulders to keep her from falling over. He looked almost grateful to see her, like he had been searching for her, but then he saw the look on her face, "You okay?"
"I lost her. D—mn it, she's gone." Kade brushed free of his hold, fighting to keep her breathing steady, "I looked down for one second and now—,"
"Lost who? Who did you lose?"
"My daughter—,"
His dark eyes fairly popped out of his head, "You have a daughter?"
"Bradley," she hissed, eyes on his chest.
"Right, okay. Okay, uh, I'll help you look for her."
Pushing down her instinctive reaction to reject his help, Kade murmured a rushed 'thank you' and began the search for her little Houdini. Bradley struggled to match her pace, her stride made fast in an attempt to avoid having this conversation. Still, she could feel him shooting her glances throughout their harried hunt, and her shoulders coiled higher and higher in a desperate attempt to hide herself from this.
"So... what's her name?"
"Bradley."
"I'm just asking a question, Kadie," he replied evenly, raising his hands.
She sighed sharply, running a hand over her hair, "Finch. She's five."
Bradley nodded silently, thinning his lips, shoving his hands into the pockets of his flight suit. Kade couldn't bear to see the familiar hurt on his face. There was a long list of things she shouldn't have done, but not telling her big brother that she was pregnant was up there with some of her worst.
Sometimes, even before everything got shot to hell, Bradley felt more like her brother than her biological brothers did. Five years older, he had been there to protect and annoy her for as long as she could remember. Even when their age gap felt massive, he was still there to play board games with her, cheer at her competitions, pick her up from parties, find her at whatever port city they both happened to be at.
Kade knew him before he had his mustache, she knew he only liked the red M&M's, she knew the real reason he got his callsign, hell, she even knew how he got the scars on his face because she was there when he got them. Bradley was her brother. Irreplaceable.
They trudged along in a tense awkward silence, years of questions and disappearances and calls not returned boiling in the air between them. She worried it was going to burn them alive. And yet here was, still helping her. There was never a single moment in their lives when he didn't have her back. That man was loyal to a fault.
But this time, the fault was all hers.
Eventually, her big brother murmured, "So, where do you think she would go?"
"She thinks it's a game, she likes to get into high spaces, she finds these littles spots to just hide away in, she could be gone for hours and hours so we can never find her—,"
"Hey." Bradley took her arm again, grip gentle to pull her to a stop, "We're going to find her, Kadie. She's going to be alright. I promise."
Apollo's mother probably thought that, too.
After what she had seen, how could anybody ever promise her something like that again?
Moving from the interior buildings and offices, Kade and Bradley stepped quickly into the hangar where Maverick was already halfway to the door, eyes lighting up at their arrival.
"Uncle Pete—?"
"She's okay, everything's okay." The man held up his hands, one side of his mouth tugging into a smirk, "Finch has made herself a new friend."
Finch could make friends with anyone; it was a skill she was born with. It got her into trouble more than once. Unsure whether to be more reassured or concerned, Kade left the two men staring after her with matching complicated expressions. She broke into a jog towards the edge of the hangar, raising a hand to block the sunlight. Her daughter, all of five years old, was sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet with Jake 'Hangman' Seresin standing on the ladder, peering in, listening intently.
Hangman. Of all people.
She's left alone for five minutes and suddenly she's trying to fly a d—mn plane.
Kade fairly sagged with relief, continuing her run onto the tarmac. Both the pilot and the girl turned at her approach, one looking decidedly happier than the other.
"Uh oh." Hangman smiled up at the little girl, "Look who's coming."
Finch nervously bit her lip, "Any chance you cans fly us outta here?"
"Not a chance in hell."
He gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and she sighed dejectedly, peeking up through her lashes as her mother finally arrived at the base of the ladder, pinked—cheeked and a little breathless.
But before Kade could even jump into scolding her, Hangman cut through the tension with that famous grin of his, "Well, ain't I a lucky man? Two Kazansky ladies in one day."
Giddy, her daughter informed her, "Mommy, this is my new friend, 'Angman."
"I know." Kade replied with only a touch of disdain, "I've met him."
Hangman smirked in amusement, "Your delivery, ma'am."
The pilot plucked Finch like a little peach out of the cockpit, hoisted her in the air, and then prepared to hand her down to her mother. But then her little hands tightened on his flight suit and she refused to let go. The aviator raised an eyebrow and looked up at the girl, a look of cautious confusion on his tanned face.
Finch peered up at him, head tilting thoughtfully, "You have eyes like mine..."
Kade felt her heart skip one rebellious beat.
Hangman smiled and tapped her nose gently, "Guess we match, Sweet Pea."
"We match," Finch agreed, those green eyes full of wonder.
Then Hangman completed the transfer and Kade perched her on her hip, cupping her chin, "Birdie, what did I tell you about running off? Don't scare me like that, not ever, okay? Never."
"M'sorry..." Finch lightly trailed her hand over her ribbons, "Just wanted to fly like you, Mommy."
Ah. Ah, well, sh—t. How could she be angry now? After murdering her entire squadron during The Incident, she didn't have a lot for her daughter to be proud of; it was nice for her parents to keep the illusion alive for her. Kade sighed and hugged Finch tighter, kissing the side of her head.
"So."
Kade turned to look at Hangman, face impassive, one brow arched as if to challenge him.
"You got a kid."
"You got eyes."
"Touché." Hangman coughed out a laugh, leaning a bit closer, "Would this be why you've been putting me off?"
Kade's brow raised higher as she set her daughter down, "Believe me, having a kid didn't make any difference to your chances."
"What would?"
Bored with the weird (and somewhat confusing) adult conversation, Finch decided to entertain herself. It turned out, Hangman had very strong—looking arms. Perfect. The little girl grinned and took his free hand, beginning to swing on him, her little sneakers scraping against the pavement.
The instructor exhaled thinly, eyes cold on his warm ones, "Your attention is flattering but not really productive, Lieutenant. Why don't you keep your mind on flying?"
"Oh, I'm a great multitasker."
Hangman smirked wider as Kade's daughter took her hand as well, now a link between them.
The woman scoffed tiredly, exhausted from the day's events, "What is it about you?"
"What would you say? Am I too fast... too independent...?"
"—And far too aggressive."
Finch kept trying to swing between them, struggling with their limp unhelpful arms, "One, two, three, swing—!"
"It's combat, ma'am." Hangman crooned back with that slick grin, "Every second counts."
"The hottest moves in the world aren't going to help you if you wind up alone, Lieutenant." Kade thinned her lips and shook her head, "Your wingman has to be able to follow you. Trust you. Know that they can depend on you. You need to know this is more than just fancy flying."
Hangman hummed and stepped into her space, head cocking to the side, "What I need is a wingman who understands me. Who can keep up with me. Who can match me move for move. Then I've got something worth flying for."
Suddenly, Kade got the strange and distinct feeling Hangman was talking about more than just wingmen and pilots at this point... Which was weird. What the actual hell was he talking about?
Before she could think of a way to rebut that, Hangman suddenly bowed — always the gentleman, and Kade rolled her eyes when he released Finch and strode towards the hangar. About halfway there, he suddenly seemed to realize something because he spun around and raced back, picking Finch's little hand up again and completing the motion.
"—three, swing!"
Finch shrieked, little feet kicking at the air, cheeks flushed pink with glee. The girl was nearly shaking with happiness, with love even, as Hangman shot Kade an annoying wink and waltzed away once more. Then, just as he reached the hangar, he swiveled around and saluted her with mock circumstance. She returned it with her middle finger. Laughing, Hangman shook his head and disappeared inside.
Strangely enough, Kade found herself oddly short of breath.
Iceman and his granddaughter had their own routine.
Every night, since the first night she had been on this earth, Tom read a new book to Finch just before she fell asleep. Kade's daughter was an avid reader, a desperate consumer of words, given a love for the written word by her grandfather. It was their thing; it had been since those very first hours in the maternity ward when he sat next to her bassinet and soothed her to sleep with the sound of his steady voice. Years later, Ice kept reading to her, and now that he lost his voice, Finch read to him.
Tonight, they were reading The Little Prince. Kade was listening.
She sat just outside the door covered in bird and snowflake stickers, back to the wall, arms around her shins. She couldn't cross the threshold, couldn't dare get closer. She didn't deserve such warmth. Still, she could picture them inside, good and safe and together. Laying back on that little bed, Finch on Tom's chest, his steady breathing lulling her to sleep.
Finch's small voice tripped and stumbled over some words as she read about the fox and the little prince.
"I am looking for friends. What does that mean — tame?"
"It is an act too often ne—negl—,"
Here she struggled with a word, and Kade heard a soft whisper, a breathy pronunciation that was hard to sound out on the girl's own. With Ice's gentle input, Finch was able to forge on.
"Neglected," said the fox. "It means to est—establish ties."
"To establish ties?"
Kade pulled her legs closer to her chest, resting her chin on her kneetops as Finch read on with Tom's occasional help.
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
Unable to listen to another word, Kade pushed herself up on unsteady legs and stumbled away.
ANNIE SPEAKS
AAAAH. i'm freaking obsessed with them. this is a bit of a shorter one, but i love finch and jake together, i can't get over it. they remain one of my favorite duos throughout the rest of this book, i can't wait to hear your thoughts on them! poor bradley, by the way. kade has so many relationships she needs to repair, man, it's bad. that whole intro with the flashback of the loss of her squadron... you guys, it hurt me. i can't wait to dive more into that!
also, i hope the idea of that last section with the little prince made sense to y'all. kade's whole thing is that she is terrified of getting attached to people again, and that section that ice and finch were reading really landed on that - and that little spot about someone becoming unique in all the world was def about jake and kade. they really heal each other throughout this story, ugh.
okay, okay, enough chatter, tell me your thoughts on this one! i'm really nervous about it. was it too boring? too strange? too confusing? aaah i'm scared. i can't wait for next chapter, jake and kade go on their first... something something 😉 love you all, see you next wednesday xx