Backdated to March 10th, 2015

College had a learning curve that was taking some getting used to, but Carson had made it through his first two days of classes without anything horrifying or unfortunate happening, so besides the fact that he was a twenty-five-year-old freshman, everything seemed to be going pretty okay. Wednesday dawned with a nine AM english composition seminar, and he rolled out of bed and combed his hair and got dressed in a rough approximation of what he was pretty sure all the cool kids were wearing these days but there was very little he could do to disguise the fact that he was six years too old for this s**t, and then he headed off to class.

And there, sitting primly in a desk in the second row of the lecture hall, was Elke Arma.

Or her twin sister.

Or her clone.

Or an identical stranger created by a highly unlikely quirk of genetics.

Carson, confused as all got out, bit back a smile and took a seat in the front row, and he waited, and he waited, and he waited, until finally, the class was finally, mercifully, over. “So,” he said, cautiously approaching her desk as she packed up her bag. “Hello, stranger.”

Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you would be in town? he wondered.

Shibrogane
She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Carson had been gone for a few weeks, and Elke, well, she technically was on medical leave, but the papers weren’t hard to scrounge up. And Maman had the town house, and she didn’t really want to stay in that therapy group without Carson, and… It’d taken convincing. And begging. And pleading, and promises that she wouldn’t relapse and she’d be responsible but eventually she’d gotten permission to take a very, very light course load at DCU, provided she stayed in therapy, and didn’t get pregnant again.

That last one, she thought, would be the easiest part. Soldier Virgo was gone now, and all that, that whole life, was behind her.

All that really remained was… telling Carson what she’d done, and hoping he didn’t think she was weird. “Hi,” she said, smiling a little uncertainly. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?...”

She took a deep breath and hooked her hair behind her ear. The feeding tube was gone now, and she reflexively rubbed the place where it had rested taped to her cheekbone for three months. “Do you have time to get lunch with me?”


She looked much better without the feeding tube, thought Carson, but then again most people did. “Sure,” he said, hoping that an explanation was to follow, and not that he wasn’t glad to see her or anything like that! Oh, he hoped he wasn’t giving her that impression, and hastily added, “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

It wasn’t like he had a whole lot of friends here, anyway - he kind of stuck out from the rest of the freshman class. “Now, I’m assuming?” he asked. “I have another class at two, but that’s… that’s plenty of time.”

He’d kissed her twice before leaving France, he thought, but now Carson wasn’t sure where to pick back up. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen her, and maybe she’d had second thoughts. She was doing better now. She had more options, he thought, self-consciously leaning down to adjust his knee brace. “There are some restaurants on the street facing campus,” he said. “Let’s go find something there? I’m sorry, I don’t have a meal plan or anything like that.”

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Elke smiled at him, a little relieved--oh, at least he wasn’t mad, that meant she had a chance to explain--and she shouldered her backpack. It wasn’t heavy, or it shouldn’t have been, but she still sighed irritably as its weight settled across her shoulders. “Maman wanted me to go back to school,” she said. “I just… I thought…” I wanted to be near my friends, and near you, and it all seemed so very less frightening.

That made her sound like a creepy stalker. “I was on medical leave from DCU,” she said. “So it wasn’t hard to come back.” She glanced up at him. “I was going to tell you, I… wanted to do it right, that’s all.” This was definitely not right. “I look like a creepy stalker, I guess.”


Carson laughed and thought about offering to take her bag - he’d seen how she grimaced when she picked it up. But he had his own, and she’d been carrying hers just fine so far. Perhaps it was important that he let her carry it herself. “Are - are you here alone?” he asked. From what he knew of them, Elke’s parents were every bit involved in their daughter’s life - he couldn’t imagine them letting her go to school overseas without any kind of oversight.

He laughed, and hoped that he could put her at ease somehow - how much of this was coincidence versus how much he’d influenced her decision, he couldn’t know, but he was flattered, and happy to see her. At least it was preferable to trying to work out a long distance relationship with someone he’d never really gotten established with. “No, you’re fine,” he assured her. “Not creepy at all. If you’re a stalker, I’m glad to have you.”

“Anyway,” he added, “I think there’s another class coming in? So we should, uh, move.”

Smooth, he thought, as they headed outside. “So,” said Carson, clearing his throat. “Are you in the mood for something specific?”

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“Maman is coming in a week,” she said. “Only she had to say goodbye to her friends and make sure the gallery was staffed.” Elke sighed again, this time of relief, and offered him her hand. Was that alright? He’d only kissed her twice. Maybe now that he was back in the States and could speak the language more than a little, he’d find some pretty American girl who wasn’t all broken to kiss. She hoped not. It’d been a long time since she’d been around someone she felt she could be honest with. Even Finn she couldn’t tell everything to, but at least with Carson she could come closer…

She frowned. “I’m not sure. Um… I saw a Mediterranean place? Do you like kebab?” She pulled the hood of her frock coat up as they stepped out of the building, and shivered at the weather. Maybe she should abandon her skirts, at least until the cold snap passed. But she didn’t like wearing pants, and none of them fit, and yes, she could go shopping but she didn’t--not with Maman. She’d find someone else. Maybe… Maybe Jada…

But who knew who was still here. Not Elke. “If you don’t, I’m sure I can find something,” she assured him. “I’m trying not to be picky.”


“Kebab sounds great!” said Carson brightly - honestly, he was still getting used to the whole idea of food that didn’t come from a hospital cafeteria, and the existence of spices was something of a rediscovered novelty. He took her hand - it was a relief that she offered it, he wondered if maybe out here where they both had to play at being healthy people, the rules were different and she didn’t want him anymore. Maybe she’d change her mind once she saw his car. His apartment. (His sister’s reminder, you don’t have to live like this, you know?)

“And you’re - you’re okay?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t coming off as paternalistic, because, god, the last thing he wanted to be with Elke was paternal. “Where are you staying? Not in the dorms, are you?” That just seemed like… a bad idea, knowing what he did about Elke and also about recovery in general.

They ducked into the restaurant, and Carson reached for his wallet. “Please,” he said. “Let me treat.” (Did that make this a date? How did he figure out if they were still in dating territory or if things had cooled? She was holding his hand. That seemed date-ish.)

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“I’m okay,” she agreed, and that time her smile was bright and sunny. “I’m living with Maman. We have a townhouse here, in the historical district. Not the East Heights historical district. The other one.” She was sure that if she talked to Finn, he’d offer her a place in Florence Court--but she wouldn’t go. She didn’t want to associate herself with that life any more, wasn’t even sure that she wanted to reach out to him again, he’d just pull her back in. They all would, the whole Zodiac, if she could even find them.

She nodded at him, and looked up at the menu board. It was… intimidating. All the glossy pictures of food, and the social expectation of eating it, and she sidled a little closer to Carson. He wouldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do, and that was why she’d rather go out to eat with him a hundred times rather than one meal with her mother at home, but it was still. “I haven’t had lamb in a while,” she said. Her mouth watered uncomfortably at the thought.

Elke wanted to tuck herself under his arm, but what if he didn’t want her there? Being rejected in public would be embarrassing as anything she could imagine, so she stayed where she was, hand tightly wrapped around his. “What are you going to get?”


Maybe they should have gone somewhere sit-down, thought Carson, considering the menu board. There would be less pressure to figure out their orders quickly somewhere like that, and while Carson had no problem figuring out what he wanted, he thought he could feel Elke’s anxiety in the way she stood a little closer to him. Would it - would it be too forward to tuck his arm around her shoulders? Too couple-y? They’d been at that point a few weeks ago, but now, he wasn’t sure.

“The lamb sounds good,” he said, raising his arm slightly to make room for her if she wanted to put herself under it - what even was going on here? “And - good, it comes with fries.”

Carson was a sucker for a good plate of fries.

Once they’d placed their orders, he scouted out a table towards the back and nudged Elke along. “So, uh,” he said, “If we weren’t coincidentally in the same class, when were you planning to tell me you were in town?”

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Only an idiot would miss the life-line that Carson threw her way with the slight lift of his arm. Her expression relaxed and she tucked herself close to his side. After he ordered for the pair of them, she filled two little plastic cups with water; she wasn’t ready for soda, or anything made from syrup, not for a while. “I don’t know,” she said unhappily, hugging herself. “I was trying to think of a way to make it not look… weird. You know?”

Less I followed you across an ocean and more you were sort of part of my decision to move back here even though we haven’t known each other that long. She wasn’t sure how someone could pull that off without some kind of wizardry, but… “Maman and Papa decided that I could only take so many courses, too, and I didn’t want to make you think I… I mean… I was on medical leave, anyway, and I didn’t want to stay in that therapy group, but it seemed awkward to just switch and…”

She was saved from her stumbling by the arrival of their meals. Elke sipped her water, staring at the rim of her glass like it would somehow make this all less mortifying.


Carson nodded, trying not to be as flattered as he was. A few weeks ago, Elke had been adamant that Destiny City was, more or less, hell on earth, and she never, ever planned to return there - and yet, here she was. He didn’t want to think that he was part of her decision making - what were they to each other, besides casual friends who’d touched faces once or twice? Obviously, she felt tremendously awkward over the possibility of giving him that impression.

So he was just going to pretend he wasn’t even considering it (even though he was flattered and his stomach was doing a super weird little dance). “Gotcha,” said Carson. “Well, I’m - I’m really glad to see you?” At least - at least she’d taken his body language and let him put an arm around her in line. It was reassuring. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to negotiate what constituted a relationship and whether they were in one in a Mediterranean chain restaurant half a block from campus. It just seemed like a weird place to do it.

“I have a therapist here who I like,” he said, cringing inwardly at the awkwardness of the change of subject. “She specializes in PTSD. If you’re looking for a recommendation, I mean? I don’t know. Maybe you’ve got someone. Maybe I should be asking you for recommendations. Uh. Sorry. So - this smells great?”

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“Oh, I’d, um, I’d like that,” she agreed, picking up one of the kebabs. She took a delicate bite, and set it down again. Perhaps she should start with something smaller, she thought, but couldn’t for the life of her imagine what. With a considering look, she speared one of the tomatoes on her salad. “Maman was going to look, but--maybe--” Elke tapped the end of her fork on the table between them. “It’s only I don’t think I should be here without someone to talk to.”

Although… someone who lived here every day, someone who saw the whole in and out of the senshi’s war on Chaos… someone who could be a Negaverser...

Elke didn’t know what she’d do if she met one again. Try to kill them, probably. “It does smell really good,” she agreed. “Do you have another class today?”


Carson did his best to keep his eyes off her plate, not wanting to make her feel like she was being watched while she ate. Hopefully being back here without her therapy system wouldn’t trigger a relapse, but - her mother would be here in a week to supervise her, and until then he would do his best to be supportive but not pressuring. “Not for a few hours,” he answered. “Intro to Western Thought recitation. We don’t need to hurry.”

He picked up and ate a french fry. They were particularly good fries. “I’ll text you her information?” he said with a smile. “You - you have your phone, right?” In France, her mother had kept a careful eye on it, but he couldn’t imagine Elke’s parents sending her back to Destiny City without a means of communication.

“I’m pretty much set on a Criminal Justice major,” he said, trying to make conversation. Maybe it would keep Elke from being completely neurotic about her food. “Have you decided on what to study yet?” He didn’t know if he expected her to be undecided like most freshmen - she was closer to them in age than she was to him, but she always seemed more mature than that. What was it, having an old soul? He wasn’t sure he bought into that….

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She nodded. “I have a different number, actually,” she said. “I should give that to you…” Elke rummaged in her backpack and pulled out her phone. The utilitarian black casing was at odds with her outfit--the phone of someone who expected there to be attempts at breaking it. She slid it across to Carson without comment, screen displaying her new number.

Her major was… “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it,” she said. “Maman wants me to go to school, but… it’s hard to think that far into the future.” When she was little, she’d wanted to be a diplomat, or a writer. She’d learned all those languages to prepare for it. There was danger in working for the State, though, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want any responsibility at all, not for now, not towards anyone but herself. “This probably sounds stupid, but I think I just want to focus on me for a while,” she said, pushing a chunk of feta around her plate. “Do things that make me happy. I’ve… I’ve told my professors about things, and they seem understanding.”

Elke glanced up at Carson. “Why Criminal Justice? Are you going into the police?” If she sounded tense, it was because she was. That would put him exactly in the line of fire, and she couldn’t have that. No part of her wanted to lose anyone else to this war the way she’d lost Aly, Hero, Jude… Abeline… Even the original Zue had left her. Elke smoothed her hands over her skirt, and picked up her fork again. “I mean… as long as you’re happy…”


Carson copied the number down into his phone, saving it as Elke Arma and trying not to be overtly sentimental about it. He would not put a happy little emoji beside it, as much as he felt inclined to, because he was not, in fact, fifteen. “That actually sounds like a really great idea,” he said about her academic focus. He again worried that he was getting a bit too paternal - but on the other hand, he wanted to encourage her to really internalize the values of recovery. She’d never talked much in group therapy and he still wasn’t sure how she’d landed there, but whatever it had been… Elke was obviously doing much better now.

As for himself, Carson doubted that there was any police department in the country that would actually want him - and he had no desire to be back on the front lines of anything. “Nah,” he said - Elke’s question had sounded nervous, and he knew enough about her to grasp that she’d lost a lot of people. Was she afraid of losing him, too? “I’d rather go to law school. I think I’d be a pretty good trial lawyer.”

“If I was going to college straight out of high school,” he added, “I’d take it slowly and try out a bunch of different things. I’ve got to get through as much as I can before my G.I. bill money runs out, but for you? I say you should take your time and find something that you love.”

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Elke smiled at him, relieved. “Yes, I agree,” she said. “I think you’d be a good lawyer.” Or, failing that, at least an amazing advocate. A few years ago, she might have taken his hands in hers and told him exactly the thoughts behind that. Everything always seems less dire after I talk it through with you, she might have said. Or maybe It makes me happy to know there’s still people like you in the world. Today, she pillowed her chin on the back of her hand and polished off her salad.

As she navigated a piece of lamb off her kebab, she said, “I used to want to be a diplomat, like my father. I don’t know, anymore.” It was hard enough to sort herself out from Aria, harder still to decide what she wanted to do with a life that she’d abandoned for nearly seven years. “I know Maman and Papa will support me as long as I’m happy, but I don’t want to be a burden on them.” She’d already caused them to spend more time apart than they wanted to. She hardly wanted that to get worse. Her mother fussed, and fussed, and fussed, and…

Elke sipped at her water. “How are you settling in? America is very different from France… and civilian life is different from the military, too, I think.”


Carson smiled, grateful for the vote of confidence. He’d been planning to be career military and never have to think about anything past it, but that had gotten him exactly as far as a carbomb in Iraq and not a step further. “Well, thanks,” he said, pouring more ketchup onto his plate. “I just want to make sure that people get the justice they deserve.” Victim advocacy, he thought. That kind of thing. Being the person his eleven-year-old self had needed.

“I think I’m doing okay,” he shrugged. “It was super weird for the first few nights, but now I’m back into the swing of things. I guess - I guess it wasn’t really the focus of your treatment, but I had to do a lot of things about exiting back to civilian life… but it is still a lot like I put things on hold for years and I’m just now coming back to them.”

He dabbed a piece of lamb into the ketchup. “It was good to see my family, I mean. My sister surprised me, flew all the way across the country by herself.” He was about eighty percent sure that at least Jenn had known where Nell ran off to. (Their father, on the other hand, probably hadn’t cared.)

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“She must love you a lot,” said Elke. What was that even like? It wasn’t that she’d never had family that was willing to cross entire continents to be with her--her mother’s criss-crossing of the Atlantic was proof enough of that--but she sort of thought siblings were special. A special sort of bond that couldn’t really be broken. “And I’m glad you’ve seen your family, too. It’s important to have people.”

That felt really formal, really… manipulative to say. Elke backtracked. “I meant that sincerely,” she said. “No man is an island, as they say.”

She pulled her napkin out of her lap and placed it over her plate. “We should spend more time together,” she said, which sounded even more formal than before. “I, um. I like you, and until Maman gets here--not that I wouldn’t want to spend time with you anyway, of course I would--but.” Elke gave him a pleading look. Dig me out of this hole I’ve dug myself, it seemed to say.


Carson wasn’t thinking of it as a hole she’d dug herself into: more like being bold where he was not. “I would like that, too,” he said, glancing at what was left of his fries and deciding he was done. “There’s - I saw a flyer for a movie tomorrow night at the student center? That Disney one. With the superheroes.”

He was going to pretend to not know the title so that he could look like less of a nerd than he definitely was. “Would you like to go with me?” he asked. Maybe… maybe he’d be able to come up with the nerves to ask if they were dating by then.

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Elke knotted her hands in her lap for a moment, and then held one out across the table. If he wanted to hold it, she… she didn’t know. It’d probably make her day, but. If he didn’t want to, that’d be okay.

People were difficult when you didn’t have the built-in shared hobby of pretty-suited terrorism to bond over.

“Okay,” she said. “Do you know the time? I’ll meet you there.”