Day Eight-Hundred-Eleven: Peace Out

“Nothing?” Logan rasped, fingers so tight that he thought he might crush his own bones. “What do you mean, nothing?”

“You heard me.” Libby crossed her arms. “Nothin’. We’re gonna carry on like this didn’t happen. Captain’s orders.”

Even Dragomir seemed dumbfounded by her pronouncement, though not necessarily unhappy. “Uhhh… Libby, are you seriously just…?”

Libby stepped over to her husband, and before he could cringe away she gave him a swift - but light - punch to the gut. Dragomir doubled over, more out of instinct than actual hurt, and as he curled Libby swept her arms around him, giving him a fierce hug.

“You’re still my fuckin’ husband, far as I can tell,” Libby said. She was half smiling. “You’re a big ‘ol pansy who’s pretty bad about lying to me. Seems classic Dragomir. Doesn’t matter if some fuckin’ one-eyed retard is the real Dragomir; to me you’re the real Dragomir. Understand?”

Eyes clenched shut, Dragomir nodded quickly. He was smiling.

Logan was not. “Th… this is bullshit! You can’t… how can you… how can you just trust him so blindly - “

“Gouging the eyes from a foe’s skulls is true blindness,” Eve quipped.

“Shut up you weird freak,” Logan demanded, though Eve’s glare put his heart in his stomach. “Gods… I… this… I can’t just accept this! What the fuck! He’s… it’s not even a fucking human, Libby! How can we trust it? Let alone have it lead a fucking army?”

“Because,” Libby insisted. She kissed Dragomir on the head.

“But - “

“BE-FUCKING-CAUSE, LOGAN,” Libby shouted. Her hands balled into tight fists. “I… I have a feeling… and I know it’s right. This is my husband, and he’s no less trustworthy than he was when this whole fuckin’ mess started. Besides, we probably need him if we can stay on the rats’ side in this stupid-ass war. They made a deal with him, not us.”

“That’s bullshit,” Logan insisted. “Complete bullshit. The rats want the Non gone whether we’ve got this thing or not. Hell, we can keep it - “

“HIM,” Libby demanded.

“Him,” Logan gritted through his teeth. “We can keep him under wraps, and have, I dunno, Pagan lead the war instead. People like Pagan well enough, ’n he’s smarter than this guy anyway.”

Libby shook her head, but she didn’t say anything else. Disgusted, Logan stalked towards the door - and, to his surprise, Fynn began to follow. He looked at the giant boy quizzically, then, seeing the expression on Fynn’s anguished face, understood completely. They were both going through exactly the same thing, though Fynn’s pain was on a much deeper level.

“Fynn?” Libby asked, her voice full of genuine confusion. “Where’re you goin’? We’re not done talkin’.”

“I am,” Fynn said. His defiance seemed to shock the room, given his usual good cheer and pleasant manner. “I gotta get outta here ’n think about this.”

“You can think here,” Libby said. She released Dragomir and took several steps towards her son. 

Fynn didn’t let her approach. Rising to his full height - or as full as he could get in the cabin - he closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate. Perplexed, Logan wondered what was happening… until he realized that Fynn was, somehow, beginning to shrink. His oversized limbs and massive torso seemed to melt away, bringing him down from a massive eleven-foot something to, eventually, a much-more-manageable six-foot-two. A tall boy for his age, but normal.

In the silence that followed, Logan tapped Fynn’s arm experimentally. It was hard as rock. “Wow. That’s… yikes. Like you sucked it all in, kid.”

“Yeah,” Fynn said. “That’s exactly what I did. ’n I’m gonna take all this outta here. Take me scouting, Logan. We gotta make sure no Non are wandering around.”

“Fynn,” Libby cut in, anger stirring in her tone. “You aren’t going anywhere - “

Fynn did something Logan never would have expected. Extending his arms, he reached across the entirety of the room and grasped Dragomir by the shoulders. His arms stretched as though made out of putty, turning almost completely black at the elbows. Dragomir cried out as he was manhandled into the air, and he transformed back into a Non, but he didn’t fight his son. Logan wondered if he even could.

When did this whole crew of people turn into freaks? Logan wondered, holding his breath. I used to be the freakish one. Now I’m kinda small fry.

“I’m goin’ anywhere this guy is not,” Fynn said. He waved Dragomir gently in the air. “I… dad, I don’t… I don’t hate you, or… nothing… I just can’t be here. I can’t. I want to get so mad at you, but… more ’n that… I just wanna leave. Do… do you…?”

Hanging limp, Dragomir nodded. “Yeah. I get it, son. I get it.”

Fynn dropped Dragomir, the latter landing nimbly on the deck. Fynn’s arms retracted, and with a weird pop returned to normal. Shuddering, offering a small wave to his mother, he turned and walked out the door. Eve, still seated on the ground, surprised Logan by offering her brother a little wave in return.

Libby’s face was beet red, but she didn’t follow her son. Instead, she turned her glare on Logan. “Don’t tell anybody ‘bout this. No one.”

Logan wanted to defy her, but he knew better. He didn’t fear Libby in this - for all her bluster and arm power, she was a fairly normal woman by the Sky Bitch’s standards - but he did fear the abrupt repercussions of revealing Dragomir’s true nature. “I won’t.”

The door clicked shut. Staring at the ruined command deck, Logan stalked away before he could hear Libby’s short, angry cries from inside the cabin. He shuddered, as much at her distress as his own shattered trust in a man he’d loved so well for so long.

I’m probably being stupid, Logan thought, joining Fynn as he stared at a huge heap of snow. But this is too much. This is too damned much.

“I need to get further than this,” Fynn said, voice tight. “I need to get out of here.”

Logan punched the boy on the arm, instantly regretting his decision. Fynn’s skin was impossibly tough when he was this small. “Then let’s get outta here. ‘least for a while.”