Darkness coalesced into form, and from it Zircon stepped forth into a cozy apartment, the walls lined with family photos and vinyl records and cats. The heels of her boots chuffed softly against the plush carpet beneath her fit, the living room dark except for the dim numbers of a digital clock painting the humble abode in an otherworldly shade of green. In the silence, she crossed the room and flipped a switch, bathing the entire area in warm earthy hum of light. The captain winced as her eyes adjusted, scanning the room slowly in the event she had somehow been followed.

Still, silence.

Once she was suitably satisfied, Zircon reached for her blazer, her soft fingers clasping for the zipper. The apartment was too chipper, too friendly for an officer of the Negaverse, and so with a flick of her wrist an officer of the Negaverse she un-became, sliding out of her protective skin and into the form of Suri, quiet Suri, shy Suri that had nothing to do on a Thursday night except grade papers. She glanced down for a moment at the place where her jacket would have been, had it truly existed outside her glamour, then with a sigh she kicked off her flats and slumped out of her labcoat, padding slowly to the kitchen.

Maverick only approached her once the work clothes were off, walking paces between her ankles whilst meowing in insistence to be fed. With practiced form (so as not to step on her cat), Suri navigated the tile floor of the kitchen to the pantry, where she rummaged around for a can of cat food. Victory came as the sound of an aluminum clink, and deft hands prepared a meal of processed fish and kibbles, leaving the Russian Blue to his devices once he began to feed. Suri did not eat--instead, she searched plaintively for a small cookie tin that made sounds like starlight when it shook. She peeled the lid away, her face illuminated by the soft glow of a week's quota, and with a curled finger she fished for one of the orbs, settling on a small one, easily replacable. It burned on her lips, instead of the way it tingled like static when she was Zircon, but it rested in her stomach all the same.

Suri finished her evening curled in bed, surrounded by dolls and paper and purple ink, the low notes of a record playing at her nightstand. Absentmindedly, she checked off reports, scratching out errors, but no matter her efforts her mind continued to lilt away to other, more pressing topics. How could it not, when she stared at the ink Vanya once used? When that wretched hand had just bartered herself on a curious game of chance? Suri grimaced down at herself, then shoved her papers aside. Her students would simply have to wait another day.

But why was she so afraid of this dangerous proposition, so tremulous and stumbling over herself? She was only at risk as much as she allowed herself to fall to the rhetoric of the White Moon, and now that she knew their tactics she was likely to be fooled a second time. But still her will sputtered and spat, deep in her chest, and she bit her lip. It was no doubt that she had made a grave mistake in that distant, alternate future, one that haunted her still.

But the question remained--which choice was the mistake?

Suri let out a soft whine, curling her knees to her chest. The bitter, awful truth of it all was that this war only cared about whether her name was Zircon or Zoji La. But she was neither of those people, wrapped in blankets and yet still shaking, alone and quivering and scared. Her name was Suri Ellis, she was an only daughter and a jaded college graduate and she was going to maybe be the head of the science department at Crystal come fall. She had a cat named Maverick and Hyundai Sonata that she'd begged, begged her parents to be a powder blue and she'd gotten her wish, just as she'd gotten all of her wishes before that until the Air Force said no, and she was left without a goal, without a career, without a purpose.

The Negaverse had given her purpose, but she'd traded it and everything she'd ever known for a taste of desert sand. Zoji La had been a hollow husk from the moment she'd purified, a billowing marionette that bobbled around in the light of the White Moon until she, too, was too tired and worn down by the weight of her thoughts to carry on. Zircon had died bleeding out in a cold, merciless lab, but Suri had died years before, the moment she clasped that Royal Knight's hand.

Suri hiccuped--when had she started crying?--and fell into her hands, letting out a strangled sob. To stay was to be bound forever in a game she could not win, not when she competed against monsters and gods. To leave was to die. And now she had pledged herself to choose which of those fates was easier, was better, against a stranger who, in another life, had killed her for the same transgressions. It had all seemed so simple, locking hands in the alleyway, but the more she considered the more she blanched. Either way, she had nothing to do except lose.

Something pawed at Suri's leg, and she lifted her head to meet a pair of green eyes swathed in grey fur. Maverick chirped, then nosed his way into the young woman's lap, leaving no room for her to crumple in on itself. Then, with a blink, he watched her expectantly, leaning over to reveal the softness of his belly. There was no time for cries. It was time for pets.

Pursing her lips, Suri let out a huff of a laugh, bittersweet and gentle, scratching at the animal's exposed midsection. "Time for pets, then," she cooed softly, wiping away at her eyes. At least, among all this, she had proof that at least one person still needed who she was under the disguise.

((1029 words))