Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August 4, 1941

Granny gave me this journal for my birthday. She says I should use it to jot down everything I’m feeling while my new treatments begin. I don’t even know where to start. America has entered the world war and mom is worried dad will be drafted. She talked him out of volunteering because we have no other way to make money. I wish she wouldn’t be so hard on him; he works so hard as it is. 

I wonder how I’m going to keep mom from finding you.

December 12, 1941

Dad told us he’s been drafted, and mom doesn’t seem to care. She only cares about money. I know my treatments are expensive, but her husband is leaving to fight in a nightmare war. We have a few Jewish neighbors that were lucky to escape before the S.S captured them, they’ve told me how horrible it is over there. The Ghettos and people going missing in the middle of the night. The fake films that's portraying their days as normal and peaceful. I hope dad will be okay; he faints at the sight of blood.

Treatments are awful and I’m so tired afterward. Mom won’t let me leave the bed until tomorrow even though my back and bottom hurt. I don’t want to ask mom for a heating compression, she’s been in a bad mood ever since dad announced his departure date for training. 

April 23, 1942

Dad died.

September 5, 1942

Everything still hurts. I can’t believe dad is gone. He made everything easier. He could handle mom and talk her down from her tantrums with so much ease, it was magic. Now what? We’ve been fighting more because she’s had to work to pay for everything because the stipend we receive from the government goes toward the medical debt. I told her Mrs. Anderson wanted to hire me to just read to her and hang out, but mom said no.

Maggie, a Jewish refugee and one of my closest friends, takes me to my appointments and stays if she doesn’t have to work. I stay with her and her siblings most nights just in case I get too sick to take care of myself.

I’m so tired. 

February 4, 1943

Doctor Hamil says that I’m not getting better and mom thinks I’m sabotaging myself. Like I control what my body does. I told her that, the doctor agreed, and she all but stormed out of his office. He thinks she needs to see someone and I couldn’t agree more, but I know she won’t. I think she needs to carry the entire weight on her shoulders to make herself matter. I wish she knew she already did. 

June 6, 1943

I’m so tired. It’s hard to breathe and everything hurts. Even now. My fingers ache. I sleep more these days. I don’t think the treatments are working anymore.

Whenever I’ve thought about death, I always think how wonderful it would be to slip away in my sleep. No more pain, just drifting off. Then I feel bad because the men over in Europe who are fighting don’t have that luxury. No one told us how dad died.

July 4, 1944

Mom has been acting weird lately. She doesn’t talk to me as much these days and whenever she’s on the phone, she suddenly hangs up. I hope she’s seeing someone, even if it’s a friend. I want her to be happy.

July 5, 1944

I don’t think mom is seeing someone. When she looks at me, it’s like she’s looking right through me. How long has she been looking at me like that? I know I’m slowly dying, but I’m not a ghost. Yet. I hope I get to haunt people. I’ll be the type of ghost that does the dishes and writes things they might forget. 

July 6, 1944

Mom sold me.

She sold me!

She sold me to pay for the medical bills. I don’t know who these people in black are. They say they can cure me but it will take time. I don’t care anymore. I’d rather be dead.

August 10, 1944

I’ve been moved to a different facility. My new doctor, Gilmore, says that my past doctors have done a wonderful job keeping me alive. That they did all they could with their limited technology and brains. I like him. He’s kind. He has the same humor as dad.

August 11, 1944

Gilmore says to halt the aggression of my illness, they’re going to freeze me. I don't know what that means. All I know is that I’ll be asleep. Honestly. I can’t wait. I’m too tired to do anything or feel anything lately.

March 21, 1971

Gilmore gave me my journal back after we were alone. He says I’ve been asleep for 27 years and minus being cold no matter how many blankets I have on, I couldn’t tell. He told me we won WWII but now we’re at war with Vietnam. If it wasn’t for dad’s world geography books, I wouldn’t know where it was. Gilmore said that it’s a pointless war and many American citizens are protesting against it.

I’ve been told that they replaced some of my arteries with medical grade metal ones. They’re experimental and don’t know if it’ll work. Apparently, Gilmore and his fellow researchers are working on other people. To strengthen them and make them better. Gilmore talks, I listen. I don’t know what else I can do. I have no rights. I’m just a test subject. An experiment. I wish this disease had killed me sooner.

August 30, 1997

I’m awake again. It’s been 26 years. Princess Diana has died, and the world is in mourning. I don’t really know who she is, but judging how Gilmore talks about her, she was an exceptional woman. Gilmore looks slightly older. There’s grey hair coming out of his ears They replaced my heart and my body is accepting it. It was “the first step in the right direction”, but they aren’t finished. They’re going to let me be awake for a while to make sure the heart really works.

Gilmore looked sad when I asked where the heart came from. All he said was that the woman died in a car crash.

September 1, 1997

I asked Gilmore how my mother was. I didn’t expect him to know, and he looked surprised that I would ask. She did sell me, after all. Gilmore said she died in 1992. She was 86 and died from brain cancer. I should feel sad about my only mother dying but I’m not. We were never close and the final straw was her selling me. She got to live a life that I should have been a part of even if my life expectancy was short. I miss dad.

I’m watching the news about Princess Diana and the events leading up to her death. I don’t know. It sounds like someone could have been behind it, but I blame those people who were following her and Dodi. Seatbelts weren’t worn in my time, but one probably would have saved Princess Diana’s life. I hope those paparazzi get arrested. I feel sorry for her sons. Fuck Charles though. 

September 3, 1997

Gilmore has been keeping me awake a lot longer than normal. He says that he and his researcher friends are entering the final stage. I don’t know what that means, but he’s been looking more tired lately.

I saw a man walking around yesterday. He was wearing an odd green uniform, but he was quite handsome. His other friends, the one with the large nose, and the only girl I’ve seen in a long time, were arguing. I asked Gilmore about them and he looked guilty.

I’m beginning to wonder if this is a place after all.

September 10, 1997

It is not a good place at all. I have to hurry to write this down before Gilmore puts me back to sleep—Black Ghost—developing–

*The pages have been torn out*

April 1, 2000

April Fool’s day to me. I thought I heard gunfire but maybe it was in my head. What happened to the bottom of the page? I can’t remember anything. Gilmore says the year is 2000, which doesn’t feel like a real year? I wonder what I would look like as a 74-year-old lady? I never got to see my mother grow old. I hope I look like granny. 

I feel like I’m forgetting something.

October 13, 2000

I’m awake now. Richard, not Gilmore, says I’m cured. I should never get sick again and explained how my body heals itself now. They also reinforced and replaced my body parts with robotic ones making me the strongest cyborg to date. Except my heart, that’s being protected by nanites and a bunch of other things that are too long to spell.

Richard told me that Gilmore and the other nine test subject cyborgs are traitors and need to be recaptured and studied. I asked him why Gilmore felt so strongly to betray Black Ghost but he didn’t tell me. He just changed the subject. I don’t like nor trust that. That’s what mom used to do.

October 15, 2000

I was correct not to trust anyone. I broke into their database and downloaded everything I could get my hands on. Richard shouldn't have taught me anything. I need to contact 001, he’s my best chance to get out of here and tell the rest of the 00 Cyborgs. I can’t write in this every day but I’ll try to update this just in case there’s another forced subject who wants to escape. 

If you find this, first of all, wow. I can’t believe they never looked in the air vents before. I guess they’re not so smart. Anyway, you cannot trust these people. Even if they are nice to you. Black Ghost is evil. Like Adolf Hitler evil. Gilmore and 001 through 009 can be trusted and I haven’t even met them.

November 5, 2002

Remember, remember the fifth of November. Do they even teach about Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder plot? Probably not in America. I only know about it because of my dad. He had a lot of history books. I guess I have an ancestor that was a part of the plot to blow up Parliament. Getting off track. Focus.

I’m liberating myself today. I’ve been in contact with 001 for almost a month now and they’ve agreed to come help me. I honestly can’t wait. I want to see the sun again.

I hope whoever finds this journal; you use it as a guide to free yourself. You don’t have to be a weapon Black Ghost scientists created. 

Chapter Text

The battle began at its typical hour, in the morning with the sun cresting the horizon. Casting everyone in a golden light, giving the angelic cyborgs the sense that they would be victorious in defeating the traitorous cyborgs, and cementing Black Ghost’s plans for world domination anew. They had thought, with their newest member creating friction amongst the ranks, that they wouldn’t be able to focus on anything, but proving her true motives. However, 0018, or as she preferred to be called by her human name, Celine, had won over most of their hearts. Leaving only the most heavily armed cyborg to doubt her intentions, never letting her out of his sight, and not taking her at her word without dissecting every letter. Their distrust, though one-sided, should have been enough to tip the scale toward the bad guys, but the duo was holding their own against her. 

004’s tactical mind coupled with many weapons and ammunition paired with Celine’s terrifying psychic abilities. Ervália was actually breaking a sweat against the pair. Her building frustrations bubbled to the surface, making the earth below their feet rumble and crack. Celine glanced at the dirt, at her opponent, and could put two and two together with no need to read her mind.

"004 she’s going—" Celine called out.

"I know!" 004 yelled, interrupting her panicked realization, and rushed towards her. He had just cupped his human hand around her arm when the ground beneath them cracked. 004 and Celine’s eyes locked in that instant, and before they could react, they were falling. They clung to one another, but Celine saw Ervália over 004’s shoulder and the glowing hand that was aimed directly at his back. She pushed him away in time before the angel’s attack could hit him, scouring her side in white pain before they were engulfed in darkness. Rocks, trees, and earth were their only companions. Celine’s vision searched for 004 as they descended who knows how far down. Were they the only ones? Did the enemy get caught in the earthquake? Where were the others? Would 004 blame her for this somehow even though she didn’t have that power? Then she collided with the ground, and her world went even darker.

"0018," A light tap hit her face twice. The feeling of cold and hardness. The voice was gentle, but demanding. "0018."

Blue eyes slowly fluttered open, 004’s face came into focus. There was an edge of concern in his pale silver eyes, an odd thing to see compared to how he usually looked at her with contempt for the last six months.

"What happened?" Celine croaked, squeezing her eyes shut before blinking them open, and sat up. A hiss escaped her lips and her hand went to the sharp pain in her side. She pulled her hand away to see blood and quickly replaced her hand. Hoping 004 hadn’t seen.

"We fell. Probably from 009’s fight with Demos. I have no clue where Ervália is though. She hopefully buried herself in this mess she caused ," 004 replied, glancing up at the pitch black ceiling. His eyes fell back on her and how she was holding herself. He could have blamed the darkness, but he could see pretty well, not as good as 003, but he could see anything approaching a few hundred feet away. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy? You?" Celine replied and ran through a diagnostic on her body. Nothing else felt broken. She felt dizzy, a little nauseous, and blood fell into her eyes. Can cyborgs get concussions? What kind of design flaw was that?

"I’m fine. Perks of being mainly a machine. Are you bleeding?" 004 gently pushed away her bangs and grimaced at the deep gash in her forehead. Head wounds were notorious for looking gnarly because of their proximity to the heart, but 004 could have sworn he could see her skull. "What the hell did you land on? Sit tight."

"I don’t really feel like moving," Celine said, sitting against the rocked wall, and it’s then that she realized where they were. "Where are we? A cave?"

"Wherever we are, it’s deep enough that neither of our signals will reach the surface," 004 said as he sat back and tore the end of his scarf in several pieces. He pulled out a canteen, poured water on one piece, and gently dabbed at the wound.

"Ow!" Celine cried, flinched, and pushed 004’s human hand away.

"It needs to be cleaned," 004 said, glowering down at her.

"It’s fine," Celine said, standing on her shaking legs. 

"What are you doing?" 004 grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to sit. The action caused a fresh wave of nausea to spike through her body and almost lose consciousness again.

"I’m fine. We need to move," Celine said, swallowing all of her pain and bile hard, her hand gripping her side again.

"We’re staying put, so let me dress your injury," 004 said stubbornly, keeping her in place. His eyes finally locked onto her hand, babying her side. He sighed heavily through his nose and dipped his head down. "You shouldn’t move with broken ribs."

"Who said they’re broken?" Celine asked, wincing when she attempted to laugh off 004’s comment.

"I did, and I know broken ribs when I see ‘em," 004 said, eyes pointing to her side.

"Why do you care?" Celine bit and it shocked 004 for a second. She was always polite to him even though he didn’t treat her the same way. Their relationship was civil on the surface.

"Professor Gilmore will kill me if I don’t take care of your injuries," 004 said truthfully.

"So, you want to help me save yourself?" Celine asked, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips. She was finding out that she enjoyed teasing him.

"Yes, can I please look at them?" 004 asked after a defeated sigh escaped his nose, directing his question at her injuries.

"No," Celine said after thinking about it for a moment, but didn’t move from her spot. If she didn’t move, then she wouldn’t feel any pain and not feeling pain was good.

"Can I at least make the bleeding stop?" 004 asked, motioning to her forehead. "Unless you like blood getting in your eyes."

"I do, actually," Celine said, resisting the urge to rub the blood from her face. She actually hated the sticky feeling and wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer, but she didn’t want to be touched at the moment.

004 dipped his head back, giving Celine a view of the column of his neck. He cursed and gritted his teeth.

"Stop being difficult and let me help you,"  004 said, throat constricting like he was fighting the urge to scream. He’s never been kind to her, never made her feel welcome. Oh, sure he was civil when the others were around, but the looks of distrust when the others weren’t looking was enough to make her blood boil. She did what she was raised to do, and that was to plaster on a smile, and ignore it. Apparently, giving herself up to them and deserting Black Ghost meant she was a spy.

"Why would you? I’m a spy, remember? The enemy," Celine said, disdain coating her words like venom. 004’s head moved to the side like she had slapped him.

"You heard that?" 004 said guiltily. That conversation was between Professor Gilmore, 002, 003 (because she would have heard it anyway), 007, and 009. He and 002 were trying to get the others to see their side. That they had been fooled. 004 had called her spy like she was a slur. A forbidden thing to be cast out or executed.

"You weren’t exactly quiet," Celine said, eyes narrowing. "After everything I’ve done to prove to you I’m an ally. After Ivan and Gilmore showed you I wasn’t giving away my location to Black Ghost. Even though I’m a victim too, you still don’t believe me. So, why the fuck would I let you touch me?"

004 stared at her, mouth agape and then shame washed over his features. "I’m sorry, I—"

"I don’t want to hear it, 004. I just don’t. Leave me alone. I’ll be fine," Celine said, getting to her feet, with the energy her anger afforded her, to move to a different area. Pain rippled through her body with every step and didn’t disappear for a long time after she made herself as comfortable on the cold hard ground as possible. 004 sat on his knees where she left him for even longer and for a moment Celine felt bad for biting his head off. She could hear her mother scolding her in the back of her head for treating such a handsome, single man in such a horrible way. Then she remembered how he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, following her, questioning everything she did. How everyone was looking at her the same way. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at the void above her. 

"I should have stayed asleep," Celine whispered but the emptiness of the cavern carried her truth.

***

004 finally rose to his feet and dropped the scraps of his scarf to the ground. He turned to find Celine sitting against another wall, eyes screwed shut, chest rising and falling quickly, and head still bleeding. He debated on approaching her again to try attending to her wounds. If her words hadn’t made everything clear, the cutting displeased look and moving away from him certainly did. Hearing her say that she’d rather be with Black Ghost than with them, then him, broke his heart. It ached when he saw her crying and for the first time he saw the 18-year-old girl who 007 was trying to get him to see.

He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth before he began scouring the cave for anything to burn. He’d build a fire close to her, but keep his distance to give her space. Except the burnables he did find were too large for him to carry and he didn’t want to waste the ammunition he had left just in case they were attacked. They only hoped that the others would use the Mole to find them, and not fall on them. They had a few days of rations and water if they were careful. 

004 walked the perimeter of the cave, marking the correct way to find his way back. He hoped their enemy, Ervália, had dropped nowhere near them or at least was buried under so much debris, she wouldn’t be able to claw her way out without some help. Celine wouldn’t be able to fight and he wasn’t strong enough to fight the angel cyborg, not with the amount of ammunition he had, and certainly not alone. He slowly approached Celine, not really sure how she’d receive him, but then he saw her eyes were closed, cheeks tinted with fever, and forehead speckled with sweat.

"Shit! No!" 004 dropped in front of her and took her head in both of his hands. "0018! 18!"

Nothing. No reaction. Her head lulled to the side in his hands. Panic thrummed through his veins like lightning. Visions of that rainy night attacked his brain, it was all he could see. Kissing her before she climbed into the back of the truck, the love in his wife’s eyes slowly fading away along with her smile, and then attacking the soldiers so he could be with her sooner rather than later.  

"Celine! C’mon, wake up!" 004 begged and jostled her until her hand that held her side fell, and drew away bloodied. "No! Nonononono. Hilda!"

He laid her on her back, opened her uniform, cursed at the darkness. He touched her undershirt and realized he couldn’t see it because it was too dark, but because of the amount of blood her shirt had soaked up.

He rolled her onto her uninjured side and tore the shirt at her hem. A gash, larger and deeper than the one on her head, not trickling blood, but oozing. He couldn’t remember when she took such a hit, it wasn’t when they were fighting on the surface. He knew that for sure, but then…he realized. Celine had pushed him when they were falling. 004 thought it was because she didn’t want to be near him, that she was up to something. There had been that blinding light, an attack from Ervália that was most likely meant for him, and Celine had taken the bullet for him.

"Stupid," 004 muttered to himself, but it was for him, not Celine. How could he just leave her? He should have fought her more on treating her injuries. Sat on her or something. After checking pockets, 004 realized he had nothing to sew the wound with and his hands shook as he tore apart his scarf more.

"Celine, please, hang on," 004 begged as he packed the injury with the multiple scraps before he struggled to wrap the rest around her chest a few times. He did the same with her head, with her scarf, and then rested her head in his lap. He used what he had left of her scarf to dab at the sweat before leaving it, cool and damp, on her forehead.

"003, if you can hear me. Please, hurry. Celine—0018 she’s hurt and won’t wake up," 004 prayed to the ceiling, hoping his friend would hear him.

***

Bright lights blurred her vision more than the sand crusting the edges. It smelled familiar, like a hospital with a little bit of a floral note. The melodic beeps reminded her of her childhood, falling asleep to the heart rate monitors, which spiked whenever she saw her parents fighting outside her window. 

"She wakes," Gilmore said humorously. He appeared at the edge of her vision, dressed in scrubs, and looking tired. 

"Where?" Celine’s voice croaked, throat dry and angry.

"Back on Dolphin. It took us a while to find you and 004. Poor lad was practically a ghost with panic when he brought you on board," Gilmore said, pointing with his glasses to the door. 004 was asleep in a chair, covered in the cave’s filth and a blanket someone, 003 most likely, provided. 

"I’ll believe that when pigs fly," Celine said, wincing when she breathed in too deeply. Gilmore regarded her with an unreadable expression. He was aware of the tension between 0018, 004, and a few others, but left them to handle it. They were all adults, and they needed to figure out the new dynamic, not to mention he was too old for the drama. 

"He had plenty of reasons to worry. You almost bled to death," Gilmore said. "I’ve had this discussion with the others more times than I’d like to admit. You’re not immortal, so please, be more careful in the future. You’re still too weak to leave the infirmary, I’m afraid to say. Not to mention the two open wounds will be too uncomfortable to move around with."

"What about the fight with the angelic cyborgs?" Celine asked, panic rising in her tone. She risked a glance at 004, hoping she hadn’t woken him, but wanted him to leave.

"It’s being handled, nothing for you to worry about. Not that you can join them even if you wanted to," Gilmore said, bringing her wounds to her attention again. "Your fever hasn’t broken yet. Do try to get some rest."

Gilmore stood from his chair and placed his glasses back on his face.

"Wait, Gilmore," Celine said, catching him before he could escape.

"What is it, dear?" Gilmore asked.

"Who’s Hilda?" Celine whispered, with a hand covering one corner of her mouth.

"Where did you hear that name?" Gilmore asked, shock glimmering in his eyes for half a second.

"004. I could still hear him a little," Celine said, eyes falling on the unconscious man in the chair who was stirring in the uncomfortable chair.

"Oh, my dear boy," Gilmore hung his head sadly and sat down. "I won’t tell you much because it’s not my story to tell, but Hilda was 004’s wife. She died while they were trying to escape East Berlin. I imagine seeing you injured brought back those bloody memories," Gilmore replied, remembering the condition his friend came to him in. On the verge of death and still wishing for it after his transformation.

"Is that why he’s been such an ass towards me?" Celine asked.

"I don’t know for sure but 004 is overly protective of everyone. He’s seen and experienced so much tragedy before Black Ghost took him," Gilmore said. Was it her imagination, or did Gilmore’s wrinkles get deeper while he spoke.

"That’s no excuse for his treatment towards me," Celine said, struggling to find a decent comfortable spot in her bed.

"No, I’ll admit, his behavior has been odd, but try to remember that they’ve all been through a lot and their bond is as strong as tungsten."

"So, I’m an outcast until they feel like I can be trusted or until they feel like it. Great," Celine said, her heart beginning to ache, the machine echoing it.

"I didn’t mean—"

"I’m tired, Professor Gilmore. Thank you for all your work," Celine said, ending their conversation.

"Get some rest. I’ll check on you later," Gilmore said, taking the hint, and recognizing the tears brimming her eyes, but too stubborn to let any tears fall until he left. He woke 004 and wrangled him out of the room as he protested. It was a few seconds later when she finally let the first tear fall.

***

"I’m not one to pry or get involved in any of your inner-group problems. You all have proven to fix whatever is wrong," Gilmore began once everyone was in the control room of the Dolphin. Everyone, but Celine. "Your teamwork is injectable and you protect each other like family."

"Thanks for the compliment, doc," 002 said, a smirk stretching across one side of his face.

"However, that leaves little to no room for some of you to allow new people in," Gilmore added.

"You’re talking about Celine, right?" 009 asked.

"I am. I know her circumstances of how she came to us were different, and I don’t know how else to convince those of you who don’t trust her, that she is not a threat," Gilmore said, staring down 002 and 004.

"It’s just odd, Professor. We failed at trying to convince other cyborgs to come to our side multiple times. She just woke up and decided Black Ghost was evil and reached out all on her own? Sorry, but that’s suspicious," 002 said, shrugging.

"Not this again," 007 said, getting up after he rolled his eyes.

"Where are you going?" 002 asked.

"To the bathroom. I’m tired of listening to your baseless accusations. When you don’t listen to the professor or 001’s proof that she’s not sending a signal back to Black Ghost or sending messages or doing anything suspicious," 007 replied. "Maybe if you bothered to listen to her story, you’d realize why she’s desperate to be friends with all of us. To be a part of our family. Now, if you excuse me, I think I’ll get a snack as well."

"007 is right. You judge too quickly," 003 said.

"What did he mean?" 008 asked, turning his seat to face the professor. 

Everyone looked at each other and then at Gilmore. He sighed, settled into his spot, and gathered all the information from his brain and his confidential files from the computer. He brought up ‌images of a younger Celine from the late 1930s all the way to the 1940s. Details of her life appeared before everyone. 

"Celine’s mother sold her to Black Ghost when the illness she had been fighting since she was sixteen had taken a turn for the worse. Celine would have died at the end of the week. They promised to cure her, but instead of saying goodbye to her only daughter, she said she wished she had never been born," Gilmore said grimly. 

It was in the middle of explaining Celine’s heart replacement surgery when 007’s voice boomed through the control room. How long has he been gone?

"She’s gone! Celine is gone!" 

The ship stopped as they searched it by foot while 001 and 003 searched it psychically. The infirmary was indeed empty; the bed wasn’t even warm anymore. Her room looked like she quickly packed the few things she did own.

"One submersible is gone," 003 reported telepathically. 

"We found a note in her room," 009 said.

"Reconvene in the control room," Gilmore ordered into the microphone that echoed throughout the entire ship since he was an ordinary human and couldn’t tell them what to do with his mind.d

***

"If she went back to Black Ghost—"

"She didn’t," 009 replied, interrupting 002. They were the last to arrive and 007 immediately began reading her note.

"I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused and for the rift I created between all of you. That wasn’t my intention. Like you, I didn’t want to be used like a weapon, I thought that would be understood. I see that was wrong. I’m not returning to Black Ghost, though I’m sure 002 is saying I am. I don’t know where I’ll go, somewhere where I won’t be a bother. Thank you for the time you gave me. I really do appreciate everything you all have done for me. This is for the best. Celine. P.S.: Sorry, Franny, I borrowed a few of your clothes. I’ll return them whenever I get settled."

"She’s really gone," 003 said, teary eyes glaring at 002 and 004.

"Where would she go?" 007 asked. He caught 009 watching him suspiciously. They were the ones who found her medical bed cold and 009 mentioned that she must’ve run away long before 007 alerted them. 

"She’s injured and has lost a lot of blood, she can’t get far after she lands," 005 reminded everyone.

"001, can you get a hold of her?" 004 asked.

"No. Celine has cut me off and she’s too powerful for me to track. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for her to reach out," 001 replied. 

"All she wanted was a family who loved and accepted her, but you two drove that poor girl away. Shameful," 007 said and everyone was shocked by his cruel, although, truthful words.

"We get it, we screwed up, but we need to focus on finding her. She’s not safe out there alone," 004 said.

"Oh, now you care? Why?" 003 asked and 004 stepped back from her angry glare. "Was it because you almost let her die in that cave?"

"I didn’t—she didn’t want me to touch her!" 004 barked back. "I gave her the space she wanted. I didn’t realize how bad her injuries were until I found her unconscious. I didn’t think forcing myself on her would have helped our situation."

"N-no, of course not, Albert," 003 said sympathetically, but she wasn’t backing down. "But maybe if you hadn’t treated her so horribly, she might have trusted you to tend to her wounds and she would still be here."

"Alright, that’s enough. Going back and forth like this won’t solve anything," Gilmore said, sitting in his chair with an exhausted sigh. He really was getting too old for this. "We still have a fight on our hands and we can assume that Celine has the common sense to go in the other direction."

"What about Celine? We can’t just leave her out there? She’s still fairly new to this era. She has no idea how the technology works. Does she know she can open her own bank account without a husband’s consent?" 007 asked, probably a little too dramatically, but he didn’t care. No one took the time to explain the accomplishments that has happened while she slept and was experimented on.

"I understand your concern and I’ll send a few messages to some of my trusted colleagues, but that’s all we can do for the moment," Gilmore said and placed a hand on 007’s shoulder. "Have faith in her, GB. She’s a clever girl, she’ll find her way."

***

Two years later

Albert stood in front of a quaint bookshop, flower pots decorated the windows with hydrangea bushes on either side of the door. They listed the name of the business, the hours, and to warn the guests of a lazy, lovable calico cat who enjoyed chin scratches, and gentle butt pats. He watched a group of young women go into the shop as he pulled out his phone.

"Yeah, I’m here. Are you sure this is the place, GB?" Albert asked and then waited patiently as his friend went through the details again. GB had known where Celine was the entire time and only told those who lived with Professor Gilmore where she was as soon as Celine told him she was safe. How could they have possibly known how Albert would behave for two years while she was missing? Using his job to search for her until he forgot to check in and ignored their calls, which meant they had to make a physical appearance.

Albert’s apartment was already in a rundown building, with holes in the walls, paint chipping off, and mysterious (and not so mysterious blood stains) on all surfaces. Inside though, it smelled like rotting trash, there wasn’t a clean surface on site, and the couch looked more slept in than the bed. It was decided while cleaning and after hearing Albert explain how desperate he was to find Celine to apologize, that he should know where she’s been living. In GB’s flat, in London, which he rarely uses because he lives in Japan, above his grandmother’s library. Albert was pissed and almost left right then and there, but Joe, Jet, and GB stopped him. He wasn’t in the correct state of mentality to see her. 

While they ate, GB explained how he helped Celine steal a submersible, put in the coordinates, and told her to give his name to a friend of his. That friend being Rosa and those at the same acting company. That she’d help her get settled and explain how things in the 21st century worked.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Albert asked.

"It wasn’t my call to make. Celine needed to figure her life out and she wouldn’t be able to do that while fighting Black Ghost. Even more so while her every move was being persecuted by you two," GB replied, his glances taking turns to stare at Jet and Albert. "Unlike us, except for Joe and Jet, we were all adults when we were taken. We knew a little of what the world was like, but Celine, she never got to live because of her illness. The Great Depression took most of her family, and the war took the only parent who really loved her. She didn’t have an identity outside of hospital visits and her sickbed."

"How has she been? Have you seen her at all?" Albert asked.

"I drop by from time to time and so does Franny. She’s doing very well. She’s even made some friends, with whom she goes out every Friday. I think one of them has introduced her to horseback riding and they take a painting class once a month. Celine was never meant to be a fighter, as powerful as she is," GB said.

"I want to see her," Albert admitted.

"No, really? We had no idea," Jet said sarcastically.

"What would you say to her if GB gives you the address?" Joe asked.

"That I’m sorry for being a colossal jerk. How I treated her wasn’t right and I should have believed her and Ivan and Gilmore. And if I could go back in time and change things, but I can’t, I'll strive to do better," Albert replied.

"Damn, Al," Jet said, huffing a laugh through his nose.

"You’re not one to half-ass apologies, are you?" GB asked.

"My wife trained me well," Albert replied with a bitter chuckle. "Can I see her?"

***

Albert didn’t go in immediately. He waited to see her, just a glimpse of her through the window would have been enough. The bell of the door chimed as she stepped out, holding it open for an older woman whose hands were full. He stopped breathing. Within two years, Celine’s hair had grown to her waist, and it curled at the bottom. Her clothes matched the crisp autumn air with a flannel ankle-length billowy skirt, black ankle boots, and a loose-fitting shirt tucked inside. Her smile as she helped the woman pack her car with the large book order reached her eyes, crinkling at the edges. He’s never seen her smile like that before. So carefree and beautiful. 

He waited for a few minutes after Celine went back inside before the courage he mustered ‌finally forced him to cross the street. The same bell greeted him, he saw the cat the sign warned him about, warming itself in a ray of sunlight, surrounded by a bunch of books, and quietly approached the counter Celine was busy behind.

"Welcome in, I’ll be with you in just a moment," Celine said politely without looking away from the number she was writing.

"It’s okay, take your time," Albert said and panicked when Celine’s pen stopped. Time slowed down as she slowly stared up at him. He smiled awkwardly and could feel his ears burn.

"Albert," Celine whispered, eyes widening as her lips parted slowly.

"Hi…Celine," Albert said at the same volume, not wanting to spook her even more. She really did look like she was going to faint, he thought, and she did. She had gone pale, and sweat formed on her forehead. However, it was into the chair directly behind her as she grasped for her side where she got injured two years ago.

Albert jumped over the counter without thinking about it, he didn’t know if there were anymore customers inside or not. Maybe just that group of women he saw earlier. He knelt in front of her, and without thinking, put a hand over hers. 

"Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought GB would have called," Albert rambled and pushed the long strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear. He withdrew his hand when he felt her shiver, thinking that she didn’t want him to touch her. 

"He did, but I didn’t think you’d show up so soon, and you’re here," Celine scooted away from him, and their ears picked up footsteps approaching them.

"Celia? Are you alright? Who is this guy?" One of the girls from earlier asked.

"Do you need us to phone the police?" The other asked, eyeing the two nervously.

"No, no. That won’t be necessary, thank you. Andrea, Phillipa. Albert is a friend of GB’s," Celine said, smiling politely. "He showed up as a surprise."

"A friend of your brothers?" Phillipa, Albert guessed, based on how Celine spoke to them. Her eyes roamed over him like she could see, not just his flaws, but see what a truly deplorable man he was deep inside. Like she could his ghosts. Dissect all of his mistakes.

"Are you getting those, Andrea?" Celine asked, quickly recovering, and standing to her feet. She looked over the title. "A murder mystery, Andrea. Are you sure?"

"I’m dipping my toes into the water," Andrea said, looking paler by the minute.

"And you chose Stephen King?" Celine asked, looking up at her friend skeptically and Albert sucked in air through clenched teeth.

"What? Is he bad? I thought "Pet Sematary" would be safe," Andrea said, looking between everyone on the verge of tears.

"Maybe not Stephen King for a beginner. Try," Celine bent down, rummaged through a stack of books, and brought a bright red cover up. "This one. "Bless Your Heart" by Lindy Ryan. Everyone loves a woman serial killer."

With her friends taken care of and having sent them on their way, Albert and Celine were fully alone. Except for the cat, who was still sleeping on a pile of books.

"Celia?" Albert asked with a smirk.

"GB suggested choosing a name close to mine so I would answer to it," Celine said, wrapping her arms around the thick book, avoiding Albert’s gaze. A beat of silence passed between them, of him taking her in. He didn’t miss the crease forming between her brows.

"Why are you here, Albert?" Celine whispered like the room was crowded with people, and she was afraid of everyone overhearing them.

"I came to do a lot of things," Albert said, catching the way Celine looked around. "Maybe now isn’t the best time since you’re working. Can we talk when you’re done? Maybe over dinner?"

"Yeah, I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t close for another three hours," Celine said, a little tired at just thinking of the time she had left. "There’s a cafe up the street or you can wait for me in my apartment upstairs."

"No, that’s alright. I don’t want to intrude on your space. I’ll be across the street," Albert said, smiling softly before leaving, the bell saying goodbye to him. 

Albert watched from across the street, hoping to catch sight of Celine, but she avoided the main window. The one time he did notice her it was while she was speaking animatedly on the phone. No doubt talking to GB. He’d receive a phone call later he knew. 

Like she promised, three hours later, Celine closed shops, and waited for Albert outside. He paid his bill, thanked everyone for putting up with him for three hours, and walked across the street. The cool air dropped to a wet chill and he could smell the rain in the air. 

"You look tired," Albert said as he approached her on the sidewalk.

"Who wouldn’t be tired when someone from your past surprises you with a visit?" Celine replied with a weary smile.

"Let me cook you dinner as an apology for showing up without warning you first," Albert said.

"I can’t let you do that, especially when I hardly have any food in the fridge," Celine said, flipping through the keys on the ring.

"I can’t be that bad, at least not worse than my fridge," Albert joked and began following her through the side door, which lead to the apartment upstairs.

"Oh, just wait," Celine said underneath her breath

***

"Wow, you really have nothing," Albert said, staring in awe, shocked and a little scared at just how empty Celine’s refrigerator was. It had the barest of the staple foods, including the rotting apple Celine had been meaning to throw out for the last two weeks.

"I’m afraid to ask what you eat?" Albert asked, peeking his head over the top of the fridge door.

"The birds outside my window," Celine said innocently and her eyes fell on one window facing the sun. Albert’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened slightly before he could catch himself. "I’m joking."

"I know," Albert said, not sounding convinced. "How are you alive?"

"I don’t have to eat as often as one of the most advanced cyborgs, remember?" Celine asked, a touch more sarcastically than she meant.

"Don’t your friends come over?" Albert asked. 

"No, we always go out, and I blame food allergies for not ordering anything when I’m not hungry," Celine said.

"Omelet it is," Albert said, ducking into the fridge. "Alright with you?"

Albert turned to face her and came face to face with Celine holding a mug.

"What’s that for?" He asked.

"To cook the egg in," Celine said, shrugging and looking up at him with bright eyes.

"I know you’re from a different time, but I know skillets existed in the 1930s," Albert said, one eyebrow rising.

"I don’t have those," Celine said, pushing the mug forward.

"You don’t have—" Albert’s anger choked in the middle of his throat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chang can never know about this."

He took the mug and was about to coat the inside with butter before Celine’s laughter exploded into the quiet space. Albert placed both hands on the counter and hung his head low.

"You almost fell for it," Celine barked, arms wrapping around her stomach. The doorbell chimed, and she moved toward the sound, laughter following her, and echoing down the stairs. Albert couldn't tell if her joking like this was a good sign or not, but he hoped they were going down the correct path. 

When she returned, she was gasping for air while also still laughing. 

"Are you almost finished?" Albert asked, over everything. 

"Yeah, almost. I didn’t know I needed that," Celine said, hoisting bags of food onto the counter. "I cleaned my fridge out last night. Do people not do that anymore?"

"Not unless you were hiding body parts?" Albert asked, joking, but his smile fell when she didn’t laugh. "You weren’t hiding body parts, were you?"

"Only men who deserved it," Celine said, not batting an eye, her smile was slow and small. Albert’s words died in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed, staring down at her in horror. Hoping he wasn’t going to be her next victim. Then, that creepy smile broke and spread wide, the humor returning to her eyes. "I’m joking, Albert. I haven’t killed anyone."

"You’re just saying that because your place is bugged, right?" Albert asked, putting in the effort to look underneath a lampshade, searching for a listening device.

"You caught me," Celine said, tucking the milk away into the door of the fridge. He joined her at the small island where the bagged food sat and handed her items, keeping ingredients out he was going to cook with. They worked in tandem silence, jokes all dead, letting the silence grow more and more pregnant. Their fingers touched and Celine paused, looking down at them before meeting Albert’s silver eyes.

Albert kicked her out of the small kitchen so he could cook without her being underfoot. Celine took that extra time to finish putting away her laundry and picked up a few personal items in her room before her old friend (if she could call him that) saw it. When she returned to the kitchen, Albert was setting the table for two, placing two plates of pasta with sauce at their seats. 

"You know how to spoil a girl," Celine said, standing behind her chair with her hands on the back. 

"It’s nothing special. If I had more time to prepare, I would have baked frozen garlic bread," Albert said as he placed two wine glasses on the table and placed the bottle of wine in between them. "A birdie told me you like Malbec."

"Is that birdie bald and has a penitent for the dramatics?" Celine asked, chuckling. 

"A little bit," Albert said, coming around to her side of the table, and put a hand on top of hers. She stepped aside and allowed Albert to pull her chair out and put it in as she sat. The little part of her that loves getting lost in romance novels couldn’t help, but swoon at the notion. She’s been on a few dates since taking residency in London, but no one has ever taken such good care of her. 

"Why are you here, Albert?" Celine asked when he was half-way through his plate and she was half finished with her first glass of wine. The alcohol giving her the courage to get down to the real reason for his visit. He finished chewing his food, wiped his mouth, and took a sip of his wine. 

"GB did a good job of hiding you. I’ve been trying to find you for two years," Albert began, a finger nervously tracing the edge of his wineglass with his finger. "I was going crazy, wasn’t eating, and barely sleeping."

"I wasn’t going to comment on the eye bags," Celine said into her glass. 

"They’re great. I got a lot of sympathy from my boss and he gave me a week off to get some rest. Gilmore sent Jet, GB, and Joe to check on me because I missed a few check-ins and they found me on my floor talking to myself."

Celine listened intently, silently. She left the rest of her wine untouched and folded her arms over her chest. Albert explained what his apartment in Germany turned into and the mess his investigation transformed his wall map of a manic rabbit hole of Celine’s life to the point of disappearing after her mother sold her. Different colored strings and conspiracy theories that had nothing to do with her were involved.

"Gilmore told you," Celine whispered, but it came out as a scream in the silence of her apartment. 

"While GB was helping you escape us. Not that I blame you," Albert said, holding his hand up when Celine straightened to protest. "He didn’t tell us so that we’d feel sorry for you and accept you out of pity. He told us so that we’d understand you better."

"Oh, so I was half a pity party," Celine said, grabbing her wine, and bringing it to her lips. 

"I’m sorry—"

"Don’t start, Albert. I don’t want to hear it," Celine said, slamming down the glass so hard, the liquid spilled over the side. "I can’t hear it."

"Okay, good, because I’m not giving you sympathy for your childhood. I can’t comment on something I hardly know anything about, but I can apologize for my behavior and how I treated you," Albert said, sitting forward and perched his arms on the table with his elbows. Being underneath Albert’s gaze made Celine feel like the spotlight was on her and she felt just as seen and sweaty as any perp. 

"Gilmore said," Celine said and then stopped, screwed her mouth shut, and thought about what she wanted to say. She glanced up and saw that he was waiting for her to continue and there wasn’t any sign of judgement in his eyes. He was the levelheaded and calm tactician sitting across from her. She inhaled and straightened in her chair. "Gilmore said that you’re overprotective of them because of what happened to your wife, Hilda."

She thought he would have shouted. Get up and storm out while calling her a bunch of names. Those are the types of men she’s come to know in the two years of living here. Except he didn’t. Instead, he dug out the wedding band on a chain necklace.

"He’s not wrong. Hilda was my entire world, and I got her killed," Albert said, admiring the dented metal. He still didn’t know how Gilmore got Hilda’s ring for him, it probably wasn’t even hers, but it was a reason to keep going. Once the depression subsided. 

"Albert?" Celine asked, breaking him of his concentration.

"Before we knew about you, 001 through 003 and I were the first to be taken. We trained together and slowly over the years the others were added. We escaped and hid from Black Ghost and bonded over our shared trauma. I guess along the way I became overprotective of them. They’re my family and I would gladly give my life to save them," Albert explained, running his normal human hand over his machine tune hand, but it was disguised to look normal. "If we had just waited out the Eastern Army, we would have been freed, married, and lived a normal happy life. Irony, she’s a bitch."

"So’s karma," Celine said, shrugging and chuckling at Albert’s confused head tilt. "My mother died of brain cancer."

"I think karma is justice," Albert said, tipping his glass toward her and Celine met his glass. "Was she as bad as she sounds?"

"Not when my father was alive because he could calm her down. He leveled her out. She had some hope that he would come back after he was drafted, but after he wrote he was being sent to the front, it was like all the joy was sucked out of her. She was angry and stressed all the time, not that I blame her," Celine said and took another drink. She glanced down at her inner elbow and could make out the faded I.V. marks from all the blood draws, medication administrations. "I blamed myself a lot in those days."

"Your sickness wasn’t your fault," Albert said.

"I wish I could tell my mother that, especially after Gilmore found evidence that it was her genetic marker that caused my illness," Celine said bitterly and then finished her glass. Albert snagged the bottle before she could pour herself another glass.

"Do me a favor and eat something first," Albert said and was unphased by Celine’s deadpanned look. "Humor me, Miss Most Advanced Cyborg."

"Fine," Celine caved easily, twirled the noodles around her fork, and stuck it in her mouth. She chewed without tasting anything even though the sauce was deliciously garlic, and the noodles were perfect on the tooth. She wasn’t hungry, but she could probably eat her weight of Albert’s pasta. Albert poured her more wine and slid the glass across the table to her. 

"Were there good days?" Albert asked. 

"Not really," Celine replied. "She had to work a lot to cover medical bills. The war left a lot of openings, so there was plenty of work to go around, but she would get angry if I were around when she got home. I cooked her dinner, returned to my room, and only came out when she went to bed or left for work. Her temper was the worst. I’ve been reading about mental disorders and I think she could have had Borderline Personality Disorder or Mood Dysregulation Disorder."

"Jesus," Albert said into his glass. "You grew up with that on top of an incurable disease and then I treated you like garbage after being sold to an evil organization and turned into a cyborg. I’m so sorry Celine. I really am. Those words probably aren’t enough, but I promise I’ll do better. Be better."

"I actually don’t mind being a cyborg. Does it suck that I missed out on, what, seventy…eighty years of my life, sure, but I wouldn’t have lived that long anyway," Celine said, leaning back in her chair. "Can I ask you something?"

"What’s that?" Albert asked.

"What exactly was The Berlin Wall about?" Celine asked.

"Seriously? Aren’t there a ton of books and documentaries about it?" Albert asked.

"There are, but I’d rather hear about it from someone who lived through it," Celine said. "If you can’t talk about it, you can show me."

"Are you sure? It’s not exactly pretty," Albert said, cringing.

"The neighbors who took care of me when my mother couldn’t, escaped Germany after they saw their neighbor being brutally beaten by the S.S. before they were the S.S," Celine said bluntly.

"Alright, I’ll tell you," Albert said and then took a big swig of his wine, and poured the remaining bottle into his glass. "The Berlin Wall was built by the communist East German government, that’s where Hilda and I lived, in 1961. It was to stop the citizens from fleeing to the democratic West, which was under the control of the Allies during the Cold War. The primary reason was a mass exodus of East German seeking political freedom and better economic opportunities in the West, which was damaging the communist state. To put it simply, we couldn’t eat, sleep, drink, work, go to the bathroom, or have relations without permission from the government. You couldn’t trust your neighbor, your friends, or your dog."

"You trusted Hilda," Celine said gently.

"To quote Miley Cyrus, she came into my life like a wrecking ball," Albert said, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Who?" Celine asked, head tilting to the side.

"Do you listen to any artist of this era?" Albert asked, looking defeated.

"Not really, no. Music and television was a luxury growing up," Celine replied, shrugging.

"Oh, now I’m really sad," Albert said, tears forming in his eyes. "I forgot how bad the depression was for you."

"My mother also thought music was for the devil worshippers," Celine said.

"Please, stop talking. You’re going to make me cry for real," Albert covered his eyes with one hand. Celine got up from her chair and kneeled at his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting the side of her face on top of his head.

"It’s okay, Albert. I’m okay. All is forgiven," Celine pulled away only to press her lips against his temple. Albert’s large hands wrapped around her arm to keep her warmth there, but in truth, he didn’t want her to see the tears. "You’re actually crying, ookay. No more wine. For either of us."

She pushed his glass away from him to prove her point and ran her hand through his grey hair. As one of the most advanced cyborgs, she was still an almost 90-year-old woman with bad knees and crouching next to him was hurting. She unraveled herself from him, much to his confusion and adorably pouted at the interrupting, sat in his lap after removing the napkin, and wrapped her arms around him once more. Cradling his head to the nook of her neck. It was a slow reaction, but eventually, Albert’s arms rose to wrap around the small of her back and shoulders. She smelled good, like vanilla and white orchids, and her sweater, even though it looked itchy, felt as soft as silk. His grip around became tighter, wanting to soak up her warmth and scent. It had been so long since he held someone and someone held him. Celine felt so natural, so at home here with him. He withdrew when he felt a sharp pain in his heart. Hilda stormed the front of his mind, smiling and laughing. Shivering when he remembered the last time he held her, dead in his arms, begging for her to open her eyes. 

"Sorry, that was inappropriate. I came to apologize for my behavior. Not this," Albert said, averting his gaze while clearing his throat.

"I thought apologizing always ended in hugs? At least that’s what my next-door neighbor made us do every time our mud fights turned into fistfights," Celine said, slipping out of his lap, and fixing her skirt. She glanced at the clock above the couch and frowned. It was getting late, and she still had to feed Zelda and put together the book order for the book club. 

"Where are you staying?" Celine asked, catching Albert by surprise. 

"At City View London Hotel," Albert checked his watch and grimaced. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, but he hadn’t expected their conversation to take this long. They kept wandering away from the chief topic. 

"That place is a dump. I have a pullout couch, but it’s going to cost you. How good are you at wrapping?" Celine asked, after sucking in air through clenched teeth and was already moving towards the couch. 

"I’m decent but in no way a pro," Albert admitted, a little bit confused and a little bit scared. 

"You’re a fast learner and that’s all I need. I have to wrap some books for Silvia’s book club. I’ve been doing them little by little, but I’m busy all day tomorrow and won’t have time to finish them," Celine said and began clearing the table. When Albert reached for a plate, she tutted her tongue at him and gave him a warning look. "You cooked. I’ll clean. Just relax."

"I don’t know if I can. You make this sound like one of the Labors of Hercules," Albert said. 

"It might as well be. I had to make it special to bring in more money. Once the original members told their friends that I included free goodies, they started coming. They pay for the books, but get free stuff. I have to make it worth the forty pounds," Celine explained and Albert choked on his water.

"Are these books first editions?" Albert asked.

"They might as well be, but they’re hard covers with sprayed edges with illustrations inside the covers. Some have autographs," Celine said and finished stacking the dishes in the drying rack. "I’ll be right back. I need to go feed Zelda."

"Okay," Albert said, moving toward the table, paused, and then turned toward Celine. "Wait. Who’s Zelda?"

"The cat," Celine shouted as she exited through the door.

Ten minutes later Albert was wondering if it usually took this long to feed a cat. He moved the box of books to the table and plucked one out of the lineup. He examined both sides of the cover, the detailed sprayed edges, the illustrations on the inside, and was understanding why people would pay an arm and a leg to have books like these decorate their shelves. He shrugged before cracking the book open a little and took a whiff of it. It smelled like paper and ink, familiar, and home. He closed it when the memories of Hilda bubbled up inside and checked his watch.

"Celine, did the cat kill you?" Albert asked, sending the question telepathically. Much easier now that they were within proximity.

"Oh, wow, I’m so dumb. I forgot you were here and so close. Do me a favor and call the police," Celine’s voice echoed in his head shakily and he pushed off the table. 

"Why? What happened?" Albert asked, pulling out his cellphone

"Three men pushed inside when I let myself in. One has me at gunpoint, one is going through the entire shop and ruining it and I just put up that fantasy display, and the other is trying to open the register. It’s empty before you ask," Celine replied. 

"Are you hurt?" Albert asked, at the same time the operator answered his call and reported to her what was happening below his feet.

"I’d be lying if I said no, but the one who has the gun on me pistol whipped me. It hurts more than you’d think," Celine answered. "I can use my powers to persuade them to give themselves up once the police arrives, but—"

"Celine?" Albert called out when the line went dead and he was out the door and storming down the stairs before his brain could think. He could barely make out the police sirens in the distance, but whatever was happening they wouldn’t arrive in time for Celine to make them give up. He walked in on one man shaking Celine by her collar, yelling at her about the empty register and spitting about the location of the money. The man with the gun was pulling her head back by her hair and the barrel of the gun kissing her temple, but the third man was nowhere to be seen. Probably somewhere deep within the shop searching for anything valuable.

Anger swelled in his heart, and he felt the itch to remove the synthetic skin from his machine gun hand and aim it at all of them, but thought better of it. He needed to be smart and take out the gunslinger first before he did something stupid. 

"How do you feel about a haircut?" Albert asked, the blade in the side of his hand slipping out. 

"I could go for a trim," Celine said without averting her gaze from the screaming man. She was breaking all the rules by keeping eye contact with him and not answering his questions, not that he gave her time to answer. 

"On three," Albert said.

"One…" Celine prepared to duck to the side.

"Two…" Albert crept toward them.

"Three!"

Albert appeared beside Celine, sliced through her hair as an arm went around her front, and then they were tumbling down the aisle as soon as she was free. 

"What ‌the fuck?" 

"Where’d she go?"

"What’s going up there?"

The two cyborgs listened to the three confused robbers as they hid behind a tell shelf of mysteries. 

"Are you okay?" Albert asked, holding Celine close while angling her face so he could look at the wound gushing out of her temple. Memories from their last time together crept into the front of his mind. 

"I’m mad enough to make them undress down to their underwear when the police get here," Celine said, her hand pushed hair over her shoulder, catching just how short Albert had to cut it to free her.

"Sorry, he had a good hold of it," Albert said, eyes lowering apologetically. 

"It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. Stay here unless you want to get caught up in my chaos," Celine pushed away from Albert by planting her hands on his chest and stepped into the view of the three men. They saw her approaching them slowly, hiking up her skirts until the fleshy mound of her thigh was visible. The way they smiled made Albert’s stomach turn, and he wanted to pull Celine back to safety, but this was how her powers worked. Like a siren, she lured her targets into her trap, and then struck. He’s only seen her eyes and veins turn inky black once and that was enough. Electricity flickered until the power finally went out and somewhere in the back of the shop, Zelda meowed in fear, and ran for cover. The three men freaked out and headed to the door, but it shut right in front of them and locked. No matter what they did, the lock wouldn’t budge, and the glass wouldn’t break. The gunslinger’s weapon wouldn’t fire. 

"You thought you could invade my home and do what? Hurt me? Steal from me? You thought you were the monsters, but you idiots stumbled upon the real monster," Celine said, stepping closer to the men, black smoke appearing at her feet with a hiss. The closer she got, the more monstrous she became. Her jaw unhinged to make room for the large pointy teeth, her nails grew several inches to needle points. 

Albert and Celine huddled next to each other outside as the police arrived, listening to the three men inside scream high-pitched shrills. His arms held her close as the uniformed men ran past them, all but one. Albert explained what happened, motioning to the gash and deep purple bruise on Celine’s temple. She refused to go to the hospital, stating that it wasn’t that serious, and that she’d go to her friend who was a nurse if she needed to. Which wasn’t a lie. Phillipa was a nurse, but was working tonight, and wouldn’t be able to see her until after her night shift ended. The three men magically broke free of whatever nightmare they were stuck in when the officers tried to arrest them, and now as they were being escorted out, were screaming about the witch inside the bookshop.

"What did you show them?" Albert asked once the officer in charge said they were free to go. They were back in her apartment, Zelda the cat in her arms. The third intruder made a mess of the shop and Celine would have to close tomorrow and probably the next day just to clean it up. 

"Just some nightmares courtesy of Stephen King. Nothing special," Celine shrugged and let Zelda melt out of her arms to the floor. She spun around to face Albert too quickly and stumbled into the table. 

"Sit. Where do you keep your first aide-kit?" Albert asked, helping her into the nearest chair. "Do you want me to call anyone?"

"No, it’ll go away soon. It’s been a long time since I used my powers. They don’t pair well with a concussion," Celine mused and propped her head up with one arm on the table. 

Albert was in her small kitchen, drenching the corner of a clean washcloth with water. He had found her first aide-kit under the kitchen sink and pulled over a chair so he could sit comfortably while tending to the cut. 

"I’m having a strange sense of déjà vu," Celine said as Albert gently dabbed at the blood that had already stopped oozing out of her head. 

"Yeah, except this time we’re not fighting against angelic cyborgs and we haven’t fallen to the center of the earth," Albert said, switching to the dry side of the washcloth.

"Is that where we landed?" Celine asked. 

"Sure felt like it," Albert replied. "Turns out it was an ancient cave system the city had built when they thought the world was going to end during the Cold War."

"That…makes so much sense," Celine said.

"It does?" Albert asked, one eyebrow rising.

"I don’t know, I’m concussed," Celine shrugged, watching Zelda explore her new living arrangements for a few seconds until her eyes wandered back to Albert’s focused silver gaze. "How is it?"

"Not as bad as it could be. Head wounds always look dramatic. I don’t think you even need stitches, just some steri-strips until it heals," Albert replied, sitting back to admire his handy-work. "Do you still want to wrap books?"

"Gods, no, I’m the kind of tired that can make you cry and I haven’t felt this way since I was a child and dying," Celine replied, sagging in her seat. "I’ll send my customer an email before going to bed explaining what happened and offer some sort of discount for the trouble."

That didn’t happen. Celine fell asleep on top of her blankets with her laptop still open to the email before she could finish the message. Albert got a spark of an idea and didn’t disturb her, only tipped her over onto her side, and covered her up. Thanks to their advanced transportation, the smaller sub named Porpoise, but just as fast as the Dolphin, Jet, GB, and Joe reconvened at Celine’s apartment within three hours instead of ten. Joe got to work cleaning up the shop down below, taking two days of work and finishing it in ten seconds. 

"You can start your own cleaning company, Joe," Jet joked and slapped Joe on the shoulder. "Quick and Easy!"

"Jet," Albert warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Joe. Celine will really appreciate it."

"No problem. I’m happy to help. Where is she?" Joe asked, looking around the apartment.

"Still asleep," Albert replied, thumbing toward her room. "I just checked on her. She’s still alive, but exhausted. Her powers took more out of her than getting pistol-whipped. Now, we just have one more thing to do."

"What’s that?" GB asked and noticed the box of thick, decorative books, and knick-knacks on the table, and tubes of paper standing in the chair. "Oh, no. She’s still doing this?"

"Apparently it’s a big hit," Albert replied, taking a tub of paper into his hand. "Between the four of us, we can get these wrapped in an hour."

"An hour?" Jet asked, half yelling.

"It’s thick paper," Albert said, tossing the object to his friend. "Let’s get to work."

***

Her body jolted when the alarm blared loudly next to her and her eyes shot open. She sat up in bed, shoving the blankets flying off of her. The room spun around her and her head hurt. Fumbling for the alarm clock while holding the side of her head and then groaned, falling against the pillows. There was so much she had to do today thanks to the three men from last night who interrupted her plans. She was in the middle of cursing all of them and praying that they would get the book thrown at them when a soft knock interrupted her. 

"Are you alive in there?" Albert asked, cracking open the door.

"No, but I am plotting the death of those three guys. Which precinct were they taken to?" Celine replied, turning her head to the side to watch him enter her room with a mug of steaming coffee in hand. "Is that for me?"

"What?" Albert asked and then his eyes fell on the mug. "Oh, no. This one is mine. It has whiskey in it."

"Gimme," Celine held out her arm, palm twisted up, and then her head popped up. "Where did you get the whiskey?"

"You want this?" Albert teased, taking a step back while waving the mug in the air. "You have to get up and come get it."

"I can just make you give it to me," Celine said, glaring at him, but her messy bangs blocked her intent. Albert stepped further into the room, approaching her bed, and placed the drink on her nightstand next to the alarm clock. He leaned over her, an arm stretching around her so he could whisper in her ear.

"Get up, get dressed, and come have some…" Albert paused to glance at his watch. "Brunch at this point. I have a surprise for you."

"Is it my death, because that would be fantastic," Celine asked, head dropping back down on her pillow.

"You’re not that lucky. Get up and drink that coffee," Albert ordered before leaving her.

Celine wouldn’t admit that she missed his warmth or his homey, woody scent when Albert was close like that. The sandalwood was intoxicating and the first thing she was going to do when he left was buy a candle with those notes to fill her apartment and the bookshop. She sat up, sighed deeply through her nose, and reached for the mug. Taking a drink, she was expecting coffee, but it was just lukewarm water.

"You tricked me!" Celine shouted over her shoulder. 

"Drink it anyway!" Albert ordered, probably from the kitchen where the real coffee was being held hostage.  

Celine appeared in the living room fully dressed in a dark plum lacey camisole tucked into a mid-length plaid skirt, a lighter purple cardigan, black knee-high stockings, and the same black ankle boots from yesterday. The mug filled with actual coffee that Albert was drinking out of fell slightly away from his lips and his eyes widened. 

"If there isn’t coffee, you will wake up in a psychiatric facility believing you’re an eight-year-old girl named Sally," Celine said, standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest and lower lip jutted out in an adorable pout. 

"Depends, did you drink that water?" Albert asked, moving closer to her, and pushed the hair at her temple behind her ear. His smile was slow, heart-melting sweet, and warm. 

"I did," Celine said and placed the empty mug on the counter while stubbornly holding his gaze. "Give me coffee, Sally."

"Coming right up," Albert said, leaning closer to her ears, and Celine’s heart rate picked up. She turned slightly away to hide her blush while her coffee was being made.

"So, um, about that surprise. What exactly have you done?" Celine asked as she sat at her small circular table. 

"Well, Jet, GB, and Joe were still in Germany. They came over and while Joe cleaned up the shop below using his super cyborg speed, we finished wrapping the rest of the books," Albert replied, placing the mug in front of her, and the plate of food.

"You did what? How?" Celine asked, wide eyes searching for the box, and found it waiting for her by the door. 

"We watched tutorials online, it wasn’t that difficult once we finally understood how paper folded. You chose really thick wrapping paper," Albert said.

"Are they still here?" Celine asked.

"No, they left two hours ago, after they ate. You slept through all of their noise, which is impressive. Franny might be a little jealous," Albert said. "How do you feel, by the way? You’re not nauseous or in any pain, are you?"

"Funny thing about being one of the most advanced cyborgs I heal quickly," Celine said, taking a delicate sip.

"I noticed," Albert said, pointing to her forehead. "Now, I’m wondering how we’re going to convince the cops that you’re still injured if the cops come back to ask us any more questions."

"One of the downsides, but it won’t be a problem," Celine said, spreading butter and jam on her toast.

"Are there many downsides to being an advanced cyborg?" Albert asked.

"No, well actually, I accidentally use my powers in my sleep when I’m dreaming, and that’s not a fun clean up. Don’t tell GB I set his grandmother’s apartment on fire a couple of times," Celine said before taking a bite of her toast. 

"How many times?" Albert asked, a teasing smile spreading across his face.

"Hmmm six?" Celine replied.

Albert’s loud laughter filled the apartment and caused Celine to laugh alongside him. To where they were both bent over to make their hurting stomachs feel better. 

"You didn’t have to do this," Celina said, thumbing the edge of the box.

"You looked broken-hearted about missing your friend’s order," Albert said, watching as she inspected their work.

"I’m impressed. If fighting Black Ghost ever ends, you lot can start a wrapping present company," Celine joked and her eyes caught on the clock on the wall. "Let’s see if Joe can start a one-man cleaning company."

He could. It looked cleaner than normal; the dust was gone. Damage fixed, blood miraculously whisked away, shelves restocked, and displays returned to their original glory. Joe even put away the new shipments of books Celine hadn’t gotten to yet.

"I owe him," Celine said, able to move freely behind the checkout counter for the first time in weeks. 

"I don’t think you do," Albert said, pointing to a note on her computer screen. He was mesmerized by her slender fingers as she took the note and read it. A dainty rose gold ring adorned her middle finger, each nail a shiny dusty pink. 

"That jerk," Celine said, folding the letter and tucked it inside a drawer. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, and an ankle over the other.

"Told you," Albert smirked.

Before Celine could say anything, the bell chimed and Phillipa, Andrea, and an older woman entered the store. Their chests heaved and a little sweat collected on their brows or upper lips.

"Celine! Are you okay? I heard what happened," Phillipa said, eyes scanning her friend and then widened in horror. "Your face."

Albert was confused because her face was uninjured, like she hadn’t been pistol whipped, and beaten. Then he realized a fraction of a second later, Celine was projecting an image into each of their minds. Showing them the aftermath of what happened last night. He understood then why she wasn’t concerned about the cops coming around with more questions. 

"I’m okay," Celine’s tired, cracky voice snapped him back to reality. She took Phillipa’s hands in hers and pushed them away from her face. "I promise."

"Who says? Who did you see?" Phillipa asked stubbornly and Celine nodded in Albert’s direction. The other women snapped their gazes at him. Phillipa narrowed her eyes at him, challenging him, but also letting him know she didn’t like him.

"I received medical training in the military," Albert said nonchalantly, not allowing Phillipa to get underneath his skin. Keeping his answer vague was on purpose. It kept their secret a secret, but also further aggravated Phillipa, which he took pleasure in. He had no idea what their relationship was or what Celine had told them about him.

"Do you have a degree or certificate?" Phillipa asked, whirling on him. Andrea withdraws, shoulders climbing to her ears, and eyes as wide as saucers. "Did she ever lose consciousness? Did you let her fall asleep? Has she vomited or complained of nausea?"

"No," Albert said with such finality, the temperature in the room dropped, but Phillipa didn’t back down.

"What did the police say?" The older woman finally spoke after clearing her throat, not breaking the tension completely, but diverted it. 

"They haven’t been by today, but they arrested the men last night. I can’t imagine they’ll have a lot to ask us," Celine said and noted Phillipa’s shaking fists at her sides. "I would be dead if Albert wasn’t here. So, maybe, back off and calm down, Phillipa."

Phillipa said nothing, but she did back away without breaking eye contact with Albert. As far as they knew, she and GB were related. GB the older and much gentler and was a lightweight with drinking. A funny, charismatic man with a talent for acting. His little sister, who spent most of her time studying in America and living with their eccentric aunt who funded both of their lifestyles. A young woman who had adopted the abrasive, punch first, ask questions later, attitude, was not one to be questioned. She’s sweet, but don’t make her mad. 

"Your order is ready too, Silvia. Albert did it last night while monitoring me," Celine said, knocking her head to the side in his direction. The older woman smiled her thanks at him and gave Celine a thick envelope of money.

"Thank you for your hard work as always. You always find us interesting books," Silvia said and turned to Phillipa. "Give me a hand, dear. My poor back is acting up today."

Reluctantly, Phillipa left their small group and followed the older woman out of the store with the large box.

"I’m sorry about her. She heard about what happened last night while at work from one officer who was here last night. She wanted to come here immediately, but her supervisor said that she'd be fired if she left," Andrea said once it was just the three of them with a shy smile. "You know how she gets."

"That still doesn’t excuse her behavior towards Albert. It was uncalled for and rude," Celine explained gently and it was then that he knew her friends knew nothing about him, except that he was friends with GB, and how he treated her. Celine wasn’t angry at Andrea. Maybe a little annoyed, but it felt like the feeling had been building for a long time. Her timid personality allowed people to walk over her and made her too scared to speak her mind. Especially with her friends, especially when that friend was as abrasive as Phillipa.

"Do you need any help with cleaning up?" Andrea asked, glancing nervously around the store, and her lips formed a small ‘o’ when she saw how clean it was.

"Thank you, but I’ll be fine," Celine replied, eyes slowly drifting to Albert who was standing there in silence. Observing them with those silver eyes.

"Okay, see you Friday for drinks?" Andrea asked meekly.

"Maybe. I’m thinking about taking a holiday. There are some friends I haven’t seen in a long time," Celine said, ignoring the way Albert’s head shot in her direction out of her periphery. 

Andrea left without another word, and there was a brief silence between the two cyborgs.

"You’re coming back to Japan with us?" Albert asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice and eyes.

"It’s long overdue," Celine said, smiling at her own joke. "I still have Franny’s clothes I never mailed back to her."