Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’ve been watching you.” 

The phrase raises mixed emotions within Nika.

On the one hand, being noticed by one of the top pilots of Asticassia was not something to take lightly. There were mechanics, pilots, social climbers (and women) who would go to great lengths to get the attention of Sabina Fardin. 

On the other hand, Nika found it a little strange. Creepy, even. How long had Sabina been watching? Spying?

Whilst the pain and humiliation from Norea’s assault had died down to glowing coals, Sabina’s words stokes them. Nika ignores the finer points of context, anger leading her to interrupt Sabina’s next sentence.

“Your skill-”

“What is this?” Nika's question cuts Sabina’s declaration- a compliment?- short.

“Sorry?” Sabina asks, confused as whatever plan or script she was following terminates abruptly.

Nika motions with a bandaged hand to her other arm, resting in a sling. “Why are you treating my injuries here? Surely you control enough of the rooms here that you have access to a medical office.”

“We don’t, actually.” Sabina’s tone is cool and firm. “So unless you wanted to be treated with Elan and Norea in the storeroom, my room was the best place.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Nika replies, her tone becoming stronger as heat grows within her. “But this is the bare minimum.” 

The feeling of impotence, of being the victim, makes her lash out. “Go on, then. What was your question?”

Sabina takes a moment, waiting to see if Nika was finished. When Nika does not snap at her she says “I was going to ask if you wanted to join our group.”

“Why?” Nika's response is instinctive, bewildered.

“You’re skilled and focused. You could continue your studies with us elsewhere. You could even achieve your dream of bridging Earth and Space.”

Nika sits in stunned silence. Sabina had been about to compliment her before- and what she was offering would be of great value to the kind of people looking for her attention. But not Nika. She had very good reasons to refuse.

“No. Why would I embed myself even further with Shaddiq?” She says the sentence- and his name- like it’s a foul taste in her mouth. Shaddiq’s hold over her is bad enough, and has forced more stress and angst onto Nika’s shoulders than she can bear. That reminder adds fuel to the fire.

Sabina tilts her head slightly as she speaks. “Because you’re not the only one with plans for the future. Our goals-”

Nika shakes her head. “Even if the ends are just, I don’t want to use the wrong means.” She speaks truthfully- she had meant to blow the whistle regarding her involvement before Henao found her.

“Ideals alone can’t change reality.” Sabina notes.

Nika shakes her head again, firmer, outrage making her words come sharp and fast. “People died because of Shaddiq’s schemes. That’s the reality your 'means' have created. I haven't slept soundly since Plant Quetta. And I saw footage from the Rumble Ring- you were there, as a pilot, and let it happen. You’re implicated in all of this." Nika sighed. "But it’s all 'part of your goals', right?” Some of Chuchu’s rhetoric feels appropriate. “Typical Spacian behaviour.”

Sabina blinks for a long moment. “I was born on Earth.” 

“You’re Earthian?” Again, Nika finds herself temporarily stunned.

Sabina turns her head and looks toward the mirror- but not fully at her reflection. Nika senses vulnerability, hears a hint of it when Sabina speaks.

“I was until Grassley took me in.” It’s a deeply personal admission.

Nika scowls. “Well, I may have betrayed my friends, but at least I’m not too far gone. I show regret for what I did.”

Not like you. She leaves that unsaid, but Sabina flinches as if Nika had spoken anyway. Nika goes for the jugular, her anger now hot enough to forge her words into a lethal weapon.

“I bet that’s why you wear gloves; to pretend you don’t have blood on your hands.”

Sabina stands in a burst of power, breaking the tension. Nika flinches, aware of her own vulnerability with one arm in a sling and bruises across her body.

Sabina’s shoulders rise and fall as she breathes heavy and fast, nostrils flaring. A mask settles over her face, restraining a mix of emotions- anger? Shame? Guilt? Nika finds herself uncaring, basking in the bonfire of her rage, finally able to feel like she’s won, taken control of something in her messed-up situation. 

“You can’t leave here, but you can have the room for as long as you need.” Sabina’s voice is as cold as the void, but her eyes- where a mask rarely covers- are blazing. It makes Nika uncomftable to consider why  further, so she turns her head.

She doesn’t watch as the only person who might have understood her situation and could have been in her corner walks out. Instead, she sinks further into her foul mood, the negativity warming her- before two subtle scents catch her attention.

One is the smell of a diffuser. The other is a rose, set close by. Nika turns, properly inspecting it. It’s blue, not unlike her hair.

“I’ve been watching you.” The words echo in Nika's mind. How long had Sabina been watching, constrained by her own duties?

Hoping, because she felt a link to another Earth-born with dreams for the future?

Yearning, because she was keenly aware of their differences? 

Had Nika also seen heartbreak on Sabina’s face when she stood to leave?

Nika breathes in, inhaling the sweet aromas. She feels the dull pain of her injuries, sore and tired. Physically and emotionally. Her ‘victory’ over Sabina suddenly feels very, very hollow.

She breathes out, one long exhale, robbing the metaphorical flames of oxygen. Her jaw trembles. Tears sting her eyes. She feels very lonely.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. She’s not sure who it’s meant for. Earth House? Herself? Sabina?

She doesn't yet know how, or where to begin- but she wants to try and make things right, as soon as she can.

Nika did not see Sabina take three steps down the corridor before she stared down at her gloved hands.

She did not see the ace pilot take a moment and brush at her eyes.

And she did not see that when Sabina moved her hand back, teardrops darkened the white material.

Chapter Text

Sabina entered the bathroom with the slow inevitability of a stormcloud. Once she used her administrative privileges to lock the door and set an 'out of order' notice, the storm broke. She headed to the sink, tugging at her gloves, rapid steps slamming on the tiles as she propelled herself to the lip of the basin. 

She fisted her near-pristine gloves so tightly that they dropped into a crumpled ball on the metal counter, her now bare hands reaching for the tap. Water gushed from the spigot in a stream, a soft hum from nearby indicating that the boiler was activated.

The primary thought filling her mind was that of a desperate need to clean her hands, Nika's harsh words lodging between her shoulder blades like a barbed arrowhead. The tone of the running water changing pitch and a hint of heat reaching her nose indicated that the water was hot. Unthinkingly, Sabina shoved her dominant hand under the stream.

Her fingers instantly tensed and curled under the near-scalding water for a long second before sense re-established itself. She spun the tap handle to the opposite side, drenching her hand and wrist with cold water as she changed both temperature and pressure with the rapid action. Some water sprayed onto her uniform, droplets darkening her sleeves.

She shut off the tap and stuck her hand under the dryer. Warm air blew over the sensitive skin. Her hand was red and flushed, but there was no lasting injury. Not physically, at least. As Sabina inspected her hand, rotating her wrist to look at her fingers, she recalled that there were many rumours around Asticassia about why she wore gloves.

Some said that she was as vain as she was beautiful, and wanted to stand out, liking the attention. Others guessed that it was because she took them off only to challenge an opponent to a duel, since that was expected of a knightly-coded pilot. The most ridiculous whispers were that she was a daughter of minor nobility, and she hated brushing her skin against 'inferiors'.

The first was the closest, but still missed the mark.

The truth was this: Sabina bit her nails when she was stressed.

And there was much for her to be stressed about. 

Barring a sudden change in Shaddiq's plans, she was expected to maintain performance at the highest of standards in her educational and piloting development, to show that she had earned her place within Grassley. Not just the House, but the academy she had been accepted into as an orphan. The organisation she was in debt to. That she was unable to leave, even if she wanted to.

The compulsion to bite her nails had started before she was taken in, an orphan's way of expressing some control over her situation and finding stress relief. There had been more pressing medical matters for the orphanage’s staff to address than the quiet girl who stuck her fingers in her mouth.

She had been so afraid to show her hands to anyone during the Grassley aptitude tests that she had curled her fingers in whenever one of the examiners walked past her desk, holding the pen and paper awkwardly to try and hide the evidence of imperfection.

When she had passed- setting a benchmark that was in the top 10%- and been tapped for a role in the orbit of Sarius Zenelli's adopted son, she knew what a huge opportunity such a position meant. 

Shaddiq had suggested the gloves. Even as a youth, he had a quick mind. Formality and presentation became Sabina’s armour, constructing the persona of ‘Sabina Fardin’. Sabina had never known her birth surname. Her parents had only given their daughter’s first name. Sabina gew up knowing it was because they didn’t want to be found by their abandoned child.

So Sabina had met Henao, Renee, Ireesha and Maisie. She had shaken their hands wearing her first pair of white gloves. Armour of a sort, to compliment her new identity. Years later, Sabina was certain that the other Grassley girls knew. Whilst she changed into her pilot suit as rapidly as possible before team matches and MS training, she knew that there would have been moments when one of the four spotted her less-than-pristine nails. The fact they never brought it up was something Sabina still struggled with. She was Shaddiq's right hand, a sub-leader. Imperfection was weakness. 

Being complicit in Shaddiq's schemes had only made the compulsion worse. She had immediately requested her own dorm before attending Asticassia, unable to bear the idea of sharing a room with someone who would then know. She had an entire sock drawer dedicated to her spare gloves. 

The silken fabric was soft enough not to irritate her ragged nails, and acted as reminders that Sabina could not allow herself to pick at her fingers when she wore them. Because that would betray her image. Iron will was what was required, to maintain her persona. 

Except iron was brittle. Too much pressure and it would shatter. When Shaddiq had mentioned having a go-between with Dawn of Fold who was also a student, that had been of professional interest to Sabina. Another element of her senior's plan to have awareness of. 

When she had pulled up Nika's profile for the third time in as many weeks, she felt that there might have been more than awareness guiding her actions. Someone who was bright, skilled and also tied to Shaddiq. 

The moment when Nika had entered her thoughts unbidden and triggered a surge of emotions in Sabina's chest, one night as she struggled to sleep, had made her more scared than she had felt in years. All the carefully curated and deliberate plans and routines she relied upon for control were nothing compared to the chaos of a crush.

She had tried to dismiss the feelings. They were in different houses, on different courses. They had never met, only passed one another at opposite ends of the canteen or the grounds, with distance and chosen companions separating them. Yet the golden glow persisted, warm and tender like a fire in her breast, refusing to be dimmed by her own justifications.

Sabina began to hope that her iron will could be reforged into a stronger steel. 

Until…

“I’m not too far gone. I show regret for what I did.” Nika had left the next part unsaid, yet it was obvious. Not like you . 

And then-

“I bet that’s why you wear gloves; to pretend you don’t have blood on your hands."

Sabina had felt those recriminations in her bones, jagged against the tensing of her muscles, making her shoulders raise as she stood. Her crush, once her chance of solace, now unrequited, cut her deep. The golden flame died, and it was suddenly so very cold. It took everything she had to hold herself together, restrain her emotions as she stood. When Nika flinched, it was like someone had punched her in the stomach. Sabina hadn't meant to scare Nika, never wanted any of this. A decade ago, a little girl had wanted shelter and to know that she would get food and a bed to sleep in. But now she was committed to a path that had a growing bodycount. And Shaddiq's endgame would only add to that. 

A better chance for Earth. That's what she wanted. But Nika's words had helped give perspective to that, showing the consequences of lies and deception, a fellow student beaten and angry. Right in front of her.

Heaving sobs wracked through Sabina, echoing through the empty room. She couldn't recall the last time she had cried, she hadn't allowed herself to for so long. Her hands ached as she clenched the countertop, knowing that further pain would not help, instead seeking stability from the metal that was cool against her palm.

She felt incredibly lonely.

There was nobody to talk to. Nika had rejected her, the other girls would see her weakness, and as for Shaddiq- a shiver ran down her spine as she considered his true nature. If she did speak to one of the girls, and he found out…

Suddenly, the monolithic presence of Grassley in her life failed her. The extent of support offered did not extend to her mental wellbeing. With realisation that she knew should have felt weightier, Sabina recalled that there was only one place she felt she could turn.

Carefully, as if she was handling an explosive, Sabina withdrew her notebook from her pocket. An disbelieving laugh rose within her as she considered the innocuous black device, setting it next to her gloves. Nika's attempted whistleblowing, via her notebook, had predicated her capture. It had placed her in the same room as Norea, which in turn had led to physical assault, then to Sabina's attempted recruitment. A chain of misery.

Still- all student notebooks had contact details for the Front Management Company. It was one of the emergency links locked into the contact page. Telling herself that it was just to check, Sabina unlocked her notebook and navigated to her contacts, scrolling down to the very bottom where there was a solid box, bordered with red dashes. Asticassia support was the first option. Front Management was the second and last. 

They were already looking for Nika. And Sabina knew exactly where she was, along with an Elan and Norea a few rooms over. Her collaborators were nearby too. She even could divulge where Henao was, with the kidnapped Saurius- she had been trusted with that information. With one call she could raze Shaddiq's scheme to the ground.

She hovered her finger over the name, debating, knowing that she was not in a calm state of mind, that emotions were driving her actions rather than logic.

That knowledge didn't change that she had blood on her hands. In fact, it highlighted that logic could be cold and impersonal, warped by one person's ideals. But she could prevent more from staining her. 

The line connected.

"Front Management Company. How may I direct your call?"

Sabina started by saying what she wanted most.

"Help."

Sabina felt incredibly calm as she spoke to a security representative. She unburdened herself of the plot, finding relief in being guided through a series of questions which became increasingly probing as she proved her involvement. If she didn't feel her weight in her arms or the smooth surface of the counter as she leant over her notebook, she would have considered it a dream.

The person on the other end of the line- now joined by a high-ranking officer- told her to hang up and remain where she was, and not to contact anyone else. That was fine by her; she had nobody else to talk to anyway.

Sabina pictured Demi Garrisons launching, Front Management ships turning in the void to speed toward Asticassia. She inspected her nails. For once, she felt no desire to bring them to her mouth. Leaving her gloves on the counter, she walked to the door and deactivated the lock. 

Not long now.