What everyone thought was a meteorite, burning its way through the thick of the Earth's atmosphere, wasn't a meteorite.
Which was why those air-defense systems that were supposed to stop it, did not. They let it pass.
And the strange object entered the airspace above New York City unhindered.
Although it wasn't a meteorite, which from a distance it looked like it was, it was impossible to tell what else it could have been really, it fell on the city as hard as if it were one. It crashed into Corby's apartment building like an 18-wheeler, slicing through metal and glass like a hot knife through butter. And on its way down it bored a hole a hundred floors deep and as wide as a refrigerator, before it stopped finally.
By a lucky coincidence, no one was hurt, which given the scope of impact, they were indeed very lucky.
It was Corby's apartment, of course, where the faux meteorite had landed, just his luck. Only, it wasn't a meteorite. And Corby himself still hadn't the slightest idea of what it was.
It all happened so fast he barely had time to register what happened exactly. The first thing he knew, after, was that the room was full of smoke. The smoke detectors were going off, and he was crouched in the corner, coughing, trying to breathe. He shielded his eyes with his hand to protect them from the flurry of sparks flying everywhere, for all around him now there were smashed lightbulbs and torn electrical wires. Only after his ears stopped ringing, the full impact of what had happened started to dawn on him. His renter's insurance was not going to cover this. Because he didn't think to insure his apartment against an effing piece of rock from space. Touché! He didn't realize he needed to.
When he felt like he could stand, he stood. His head was spinning but, at least, his knees didn't buckle. The timing wasn't good for this. He was out of shape, physically as well as emotionally, very much so. He straightened himself and took a cautious look around. Thanks to the hole in the wall, which he had two now he guessed, one in the wall and one in the ceiling, the smoke was beginning to clear. Carefully, step after step, he advanced forward, deeper into what used to be his apartment, though it looked strikingly different now like he was suddenly transported to a whole different place. Not that it looked any better before, mind you. Just different.
He couldn't recognize the place. Most of all a giant smoldering orb in the middle of his apartment looked like it didn't belong there. Corby was careful to approach it. Having seen meteorites before, he was sure it wasn't one of them. It was made entirely out of gold, for one thing. Like pure gold, which for a standard meteor would have been next to impossible. Also, it was perfectly round. It sustained its rotund shape despite the fall. It didn't crack, chip, or fall into pieces, which if it were a regular meteorite was what Corby would have expected it to do. It very pointedly didn't though, which led him to believe it wasn't a meteorite. It was something else. Though he couldn't quite tell what it was exactly.
Whatever it was, it was hissing and sizzling right in the middle of his apartment, making him question everything he knew about space thus far. Because he hadn't seen anything like it. Having settled comfortably on his checkered tiles, it was just sitting there, making a wheezing noise, not doing much of anything else now that it'd already done plenty. It didn't look dangerous though, not at all. It didn't even look as hot as Corby imagined it to be. But he really didn't know since he'd already established it wasn't a meteorite. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be hot. Well, it wasn't cold either, he was pretty sure. Because when he approached it, pieces of it started melting off, making strings like cheese on a pizza.
Looking at it now, it wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before, and he had difficulty trying to place it. In twenty-two years in space, he thought he'd seen it all. But nothing like this! He narrowed his eyes at it. It was anybody's guess what it was because he had no idea. Could have been anything! He looked up at the burrow it made above his head. Had the thing landed a little bit to the right, he'd be dead now. He guessed he was lucky to be alive. All but five minutes ago, before the thing landed, he thought being dead was exactly what he wanted. But he wasn't so sure now.
Some of the gold must have rubbed off onto the sharp metal edges of the burrow, because a lot of it was now gold too. As well as everything around the orb, Corby noticed. And it wasn't before. He kicked debris out of the way, and crouched down to inspect it closer.
The orb was visibly cooling down now, the gold solidifying somewhat on its surface. Some of it must have spilled onto its surroundings while it was still hot, Corby assessed, like honey out of the honeypot, coating everything within its reach, making everything nice and golden. He frowned at that idea though. Something didn't add up. Something was still wrong with this picture.
He picked up a mug from the floor to help him thumbs-up or thumbs-down his spillage theory, which the mug was golden now, and it wasn't before. Before it was ceramic, he was pretty sure. Because he couldn't even afford gold, not that he'd ever considered it. He always was more of a silver person. He frowned and put the mug back on the floor. Looking around, there were also other items. I.e. a box of matches from planet Hulahkazoo his buddy Finger gave him, as well as sunglasses from Tryek, a souvenir from the General. They were all golden now, the glasses, the box, and the matches.
His toothbrush too, and a roll of floss. Which those were plastic before, obviously. They were gold now, complete with tiny little golden bristles and a golden logo on the handle of the toothbrush. The gold from the orb simply couldn't have spilled like that, could it? Corby cocked his head to the side, pondering. And then a more disturbing thought occurred to him. Realistically what would have happened if the molten gold came in contact with plastic? It would have melted it, right? He wasn't a scientist but he knew as much. None of the plastic was melted though. It was still in its original shape, just golden now.
There was no explanation for this but clearly, this is what happened, everything around the orb was made into gold. Things were simply turned gold upon contact. Which it was impossible, right? But the more Corby thought about it, the harder it was for him to deny. He was already frowning so he frowned more. There had to be some other explanation. This couldn't be it. Things didn't just turn into gold spontaneously, on a whim. It didn't happen. And had he been given more time to reflect on this, cogitate, and mull it over, he might have been able to come up with a logical explanation. But unfortunately, the orb started cracking open, and that required his undivided attention.
He leaped to his feet, the mug, the matches, and his new-and-improved golden toothbrush left on the floor and forgotten. Like an egg ready to hatch, the orb shimmied, bobbed back and forth. A distinct crackling sound accompanied its erratic fitful movements. Corby narrowed his eyes at it, holding his breath. Was something alive going to pop out of it now? An alien? Like it wasn't enough it wreaked havoc on his entire apartment building already. Now it was going to hatch too? He had his fair share of encounters with aliens, and those oftentimes weren't pleasant. But he was ready for this. If he had to deal with an alien creature in his apartment, right then and there, he would. Though he didn't really know what to expect from this. So, picking up a piece of some oblong debris from the floor seemed like a good idea. He brandished it in front of him as if it were a baseball bat, which he could have totally used a baseball bat as a weapon, and got himself ready.
Though, peeling off layers of gold, not a strange alien creature emerged from the egg but a normal-looking post-adolescent human boy. At least, for as long as Corby could trust his eyes, he thought it was a boy. And the young man looked positively human.
He was naked too. Under all the layers of golden nougat, he wasn't wearing anything. And it became very clear he was a boy, with all the skin he was showing, and the sinewy physique, and the boy parts. And as the nougat crusted on his skin, he peeled it off too, revealing even more skin. And the more he did, the more certain Corby became he was a boy. He was looking right at it, after all. He couldn't stop looking. He had to make an effort not to look.
The boy wasn't injured from the fall, not at all, the man-boy. Not a scratch, not a blemish on his flawless body. He was rather radiant, and rosy-cheeked, looking as healthy as ever like he was born yesterday, which after the fall he'd taken it was a miracle he was alive at all.
Corby's eyes widened when the man-boy stood up and straightened himself. He was, for the lack of a better word, perfect.
He wasn't holding steady on his feet though, the young hatchling. So Corby offered a hand to him, instinctively, being polite, wanting to help. Only the boy shied away from it, hissed, like an animal. He froze suddenly in his tracks, in a defensive position, looking at Corby, his deep blue eyes trained on him. Corby froze too, not knowing what to do, not wanting to scare him further. He himself couldn't take his eyes off of him. He couldn't help himself. He stifled a nervous laugh. It was just too much, way too bizarre, this and everything that happened this evening. His brain was barely catching up trying to process it, make sense of it, but Corby was thankful his brain was at least still in one piece.
As far as alien species go, something as beautiful was his first. He never encountered anything like this before. The boy was an alien though, had to be, even though he very much looked human. He couldn't have been human. If he was human, he couldn't have fallen from the sky and survived. He'd be dead by now if he was human, despite his golden carapace. He was alive though, not a scratch. He looked human, sure! But it was simply impossible for him to be.
Meanwhile, the man-boy was trying to stare Corby down, far from dead, breathing heavily. Corby stepped away from him, giving him room. The apartment was as good as his now anyway, what with the crash and the space orb making half of it golden. He practically claimed the place, and remade it to his liking. Which he liked gold, apparently, and Corby was still a silver person. He wondered if their differences were going to impede on them becoming friends. And he wanted him to be his friend. He knew he wanted him in his life the moment he'd seen him.
The boy eased up, proceeded to unravel himself from his golden nougat, his eyes still landing on Corby from time to time, too cautious not to, still afraid to turn his back on him. It was a pair of baby blues looking at Corby, human eyes, very human eyes. Very beautiful. Corby had never seen anyone like this. Clearly, the boy was not from this planet. It was like he was from another world.
"Hi there!" he threw at him, in a breath, maybe his first breath in over a minute. Earlier he was too stunned to breathe. But now he remembered he actually needed to.
The man-boy looked at him, anxiously from under his eyebrows. Not sure what to make of it. If he was really a hatchling, Corby thought, he might not have been too familiar with the concept of speech. Not yet. Corby moved (barely an inch) towards him.
The boy dropped to his knees, assuming a self-defensive animal position, protecting himself, hissing, like a frightened young cub, purely on instinct. Corby would have been frightened too, he guessed, if the boy wasn't so cute. He was no animal, after all. There was nothing about him, other than his stance, that screamed animal. And he was naked too, so Corby could see everything. Other than a fluff of pubic hair, he was as bare as a featherless fledgling, which Corby thought it rather suited him, not being hirsute. He was the opposite, smooth, silky-skinned, whiskerless. And he was shivering, Corby noticed. He reached out to him, on instinct, in a subconscious attempt to comfort him but the boy recoiled, cowering behind his golden carapace, his fearful eyes trained on Corby.
"Sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to scare you…" Corby tried to explain, hoping that if maybe not the words then his soothing tone would placate him. He tried his best to appear non-threatening. He stepped away, giving the boy some room, and he stopped looking at him. The man-boy seemed to relax, just a smidge.
Corby glanced at him, trying not to stare, which he was finding increasingly difficult. He didn't want to keep his eyes off him, the boy was very pretty. And now that he had a minute to study him, it was beginning to dawn on him just how pretty exactly he was. And the way he crouched on the floor was rather endearing. Corby couldn't help but already feel protective over him somehow, which was ridiculous because they'd literally just met. It's just, savage or not, the boy was adorable as a kitten.
And those big kitten eyes were looking at him right now. With a mane of red hair atop his head, tangled in the golden lamina, glowing like fire. Whatever he was, he wasn't human, not really. Couldn't be. And yet he looked so much the part.
"You alright there?" Corby asked, managing a soft whisper, trying to offer the man-boy his hand again. But that only brought more hissing. An animal. And Corby backed away.
"Alright, alright. I'll piss off," he said, retreating as the boy watched him closely. But only a little bit because creating the distance between them would be the last thing he'd want. He wanted to remain close to him. He wanted to watch him up close, to study him, his body, his legs, his arms, his face, everything. He was extraordinarily pretty, whatever he was. A fine specimen of an alien creature that could have been easily mistaken for a man. Corby shook his head involuntarily in disbelief there was really this angel of a boy right there in the middle of his apartment. He didn't understand how did it happen he was even here. He was still dazed from the impact, he guessed, because he couldn't think straight, couldn't figure out what was happening. And usually, he was quicker off the mark. The man-boy meanwhile was studying him too, never taking his eyes off him, more curious now than afraid.
"Listen, I think we've started off on the wrong foot," Corby started. "Let's try again."
The boy's expression changed. He seemed to be listening to Corby intently, not hissing anymore.
"I'm not sure where you've come from and where you're going but tell you what, you're lucky you ended up here in my apartment, okay? You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"This might not be much," he said, gesturing at the apartment around him. "But you're safe. This is probably the best place you could have landed in Manhattan."
At that, the boy relaxed, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Corby's expression softened too. This was going a lot better the second time around.
"Can you talk?" he asked, stepping a quarter of an inch closer to him. The boy considered it.
"T-aaaalk…" he mimicked, not quite yet grasping the vowels.
"You have a name?" Corby continued, pretty sure he didn't understand the words but he wanted him to get used to the tone of his voice rather, meanwhile inching his way closer to him. At least, that way, they were beginning to communicate.
"N-aaaaame…" the boy repeated, curious at the sound he made.
"My name is Corby. Major Corby Dallas."
He pushed a thumb to his chest.
"Me…Corby."
The man-boy repeated it, "Corrrrby…"
He gazed inquisitively at his own thumb before pressing it to his chest, the way Corby had. Seemed like he just became aware of his fingers, or the fact he had a chest.
"Me, Corby, yes," Corby dittoed, pointing his index finger at himself. And then pointed it at him.
"And you? Do you have a name? What do I call you?"
The boy looked at Corby's finger, processing, then shifted his gaze at himself. A flicker of understanding sparked in his eyes and the tiniest of smiles adorned his face.
"Loo..." he breathed.
He looked back at Corby to see how he was going to interpret that. Corby squinted at him. Then smiles himself.
"Loo?" he asked, a little surprised. When he was asking him for his name he didn't really expect for the boy to actually come up with an answer. But he did. He was bright. He seemed to be learning fast.
"Loo," Corby repeated to taste the name on his tongue again. "I like it. That's a pretty name. It suits you."
The man-boy smiled wider, hiding his eyes now under his long red eyelashes, a little abashed, the red of his cheeks driving Corby crazy, melting his heart. A downright stupid expression settled on Corby's face as he watched him.
"Corby, Loo. Loo, Corby!" he chanted, utterly silly, nonetheless making the boy smile. Finally, the two had reached some kind of understanding, at least regarding their names, which was a good start. There was something there, happening right now between them, Corby could tell. Something he never felt before. A connection being established, a bond. Between the two organisms, two human beings, two men. Or at least one of them was a man. And the other one just looked the part. But it didn't matter. Corby didn't care. He never felt this way before. Whatever the man-boy was, an alien or a human being, with him Corby had unexpectedly shared a very special moment right now. And that was all that mattered. Because with every fiber of his being, he wanted the moment to last, for as long as was possible, eternity maybe. Was that too much to ask? He knew one thing for sure, he didn't want it to ever end, most definitely.
Of course, immediately after he thought that it had to end. Just his luck! There was a knock on the door, followed by the doorbell. And the moment was lost, connection severed. The boy turned sharply towards the door and scowled. Corby cursed under his breath.
"It's okay, it's okay!" he hurried to reassure him. "There's nothing wrong, nothing to be scared of."
The boy listened but wasn't convinced. His whole body tensed up when there was another knock and the doorbell combo.
"I'm coming!" shouted Corby in the direction of his entrance door, annoyed. He wasn't expecting company. Although, after what happened, it was only natural there were going to be people there. Guys from the military too. Who else? He rolled his eyes. For all they knew a meteor made a hole in his apartment building. It was not something that happened every day. They were no doubt here to investigate. They were going to need their answers.
Leaving the boy behind, Corby opened the door. It was a miracle it didn't get blown off its hinges.
"Yes?" he said, mock-pleasantly, giving the visitors a once-over. The military crowd in front of him parted, he guessed it right, and General Monroe stepped in. Broad-shouldered and all, just the way he remembered it. Here in person. Contemptuous expression plastered permanently on her face, same as when he used to serve under her. Oh, the good old days. Only he didn't understand to what he owed such a pleasure.
"General Monroe!" he announced, smiling at her mischievously if a little surprised as to why she was here. It was like an apparition, yet another miracle. "Nice seeing you here, in the Block 3000."
She took that on the chin. He got her there. She'd become pampered over the last few years, maybe more than a few. Not that she liked it but it was true. For her, it was the cleanliness of the White House now over the squalor of Block 3000, which was where she was from.
"Major," she allowed. Her gaze shifted nonchalantly from his face to the wreckage behind his back. Corby clocked it. So it was the boy she wanted. He could tell she wasn't here just to say hello.
"So, how you've been?" she asked, returning her attention to his face. Her expression was impassive but Corby knew the woman well. His eyebrows popped up at her blatant attempt at a chit-chat, which after all, the last time he saw her she booted him from the military. She could have guessed how he'd been. He'd been like crap. He, nonchalantly, looked behind her back too, counting the soldiers.
"Good-good…" he returned since they were playing the polite game. There was a full squad behind her. Armed too. When his gaze bounced back to her, they maintained eye contact for a long moment. Their eyes sure could speak louder than words.
"You?" he asked finally, though he could have guessed she was doing good, as per her usual. Rarely did General Monroe find herself in trouble these days. She was a fat cat! Although, if he called her that, she would have punched him in the face.
"G-o-o-o-d!" she drawled. "Mind if we come in?"
"Do I?" he asked. He did, actually.
He just wasn't sure he was in a position to mind. Or rather, he was sure he wasn't. Looking at her, he could tell she appreciated that little game they played. After all, the two of them could play that game like nobody else. Not many would even have the balls to play with her. He did. And she appreciated it. Though she wasn't beyond letting him know she was winning.
"I don't think you do, actually," she whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to him. He pulled away.
"Would I keep you waiting at the door? We're old pals! Come on in. Be my guest, General," he announced out loud, theatrically. Sounded convincing too. He'd almost convinced himself he meant it.
"Very sweet of you. Thank you!" she returned curtly.
He backed away, letting her in, and the squad of soldiers that trailed inside after her. Corby's apartment was about the size of a freight elevator. The place got crowded fast.
Monroe pushed Corby into the wall with her voluminous chest, not to miss the opportunity. She didn't want him to cause any trouble. Not that he was going to. She hoped not. But she still pinned him in place just in case, letting her trench monkeys take care of business in the meantime. Standard protocol. Nothing to be worried about really. Corby still tried to wriggle himself out of her crippling embrace, especially when he saw the men in uniform approach the man-boy. Which he regarded them curiously if a little on guard. But he wasn't hissing at them or anything. Guess, their interaction with Corby calmed him down.
Monroe put her head in front of Corby's face, blocking his view. And she tried to maintain eye contact. She didn't want him getting any ideas. Corby huffed, fidgeting helplessly in one place. But understanding the futility of his attempts, he gave up on it shortly. He fixed Monroe with a cold stare instead but it did nothing. She sneered at that contemptuously. They'd known each other for many years. She knew him well. The boy behind her back was exactly Corby's type, she knew that. The type he'd usually go for anyway. Pretty face, lean, damaged, mysterious, perfect on paper. Only he was really not. She told him time and time again that boys like this weren't good for him. But he didn't listen. To his own detriment too. He should have just dated one of them squaddies and he'd be fine. But when she told him that he told her to go fuck herself. And there he was again, pining for someone who was only going to get him in trouble, someone who couldn't love him back.
Looking at her, Corby knew exactly what she was thinking. And no, he wasn't planning on being difficult. She was 6.2, for God's sake. He was planning on being a good boy. For as long as she was around anyway, keeping her eagle eye on him. For the old time's sake, he'd do as was told. He glanced over her shoulder at the boy. He just wanted to make sure they weren't hurting him. They had him wrapped up in a blanket now, immobilized. Snug as a bug. He was already yawning. Soon he'd be losing consciousness. The blanket was soaked in chloroform, of course. He wouldn't know what hit him.
"Chloroform? Really?" Corby asked, giving Monroe attitude. She just shrugged.
"Old tricks are the best tricks, Major."
When the boy was out, they carried him away carefully. And the orb. And all the pieces of gold scattered around. And even Corby's new and improved golden toothbrush.
"Not my toothbrush! Come on," he protested.
"I'll get you a new one," Monroe said. Corby glowered at her. Everything on site was put into sterile containers and taken away. They were taking away everything. Literally, everything he owned. His measly earthly possessions.
"On behalf of the government," Monroe said. "You are being issued a one-time rectification payment of five thousand dollars, zero cents, deposited to your bank account as of…"
She glanced at her watch.
"Right now. Thank you for your cooperation!"
Corby's earpiece chimed. There was a new notification! Monroe beamed at him. His own lips curved in a mock smile. They thought of everything, hadn't they? Nothing like five thousand dollars to shut him up. And he was sure Monroe was made aware his account balance was hotfoot approaching zero.
"What are you going to do to him?" he asked. He didn't care about the money. To hell with the gold, and his golden toothbrush. He wanted none of it. All he really cared about now was the boy. Why he cared about him so much all of a sudden, he didn't know. But that was a different question. He looked into Monroe's eyes, trying to get past whatever resentment she still harbored over him failing his last mission. Because he was one of her best soldiers once. Maybe even the best one. He disappointed her very much. He knew that. Still, he repeated his question pleadingly.
"What are they going to do to him?"
She sighed wearily. But he knew she was still someone he could trust. If she said the boy was going to be fine, then he'd be fine, he'd believe her. He knew, deep in her heart, she still thought fondly of him, no matter what. She wouldn't lie to him. He was, after all, her best soldier.
"Don't worry about it, Major. He's under government's protection now," she said, the best she could offer. She wasn't lying too. She was being earnest with him if a little coy.
"Right," Corby replied, dryly. Not what he wanted to hear from her. She didn't say he was going to be fine, which meant she wasn't able to make sure. His fate was out of her hands somehow. And it wouldn't do for Corby.
He didn't say anything. She looked him deadpan in the eyes, hoping he wasn't looking for reassurances. He wasn't getting any. She hoped he knew that. When she decided he was all right, she moved on. She gave his apartment a once-over. It really wasn't much to look at, especially now.
"Say…" she started. "A cozy little place you got here, a nice little life, new toothbrush, new hair…Looks like you've been treating yourself well lately."
He blinked slowly at the jab. His apartment was a joke, and she knew that. He didn't choose it to be this small. It was all he could afford at the moment. And as for his hair, well yes, thank you for noticing! He dyed it blond just a couple of weeks ago, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but it really wasn't. Not because it didn't look good on him. It looked fine! But it cost him half his rent. And he usually wasn't like that, but it was the definition of an impulse purchase. He just wanted to turn a new leaf, start fresh. Turned out, even with the new hair, he couldn't do it.
"Why'd you ask?" he asked. She cocked her head, looked at him impishly. She was angling for something, he could tell. Was dying to know what it was actually. She was rarely like this. Usually, she was more direct. Must have been a reason for all of this. He was very curious. She got him there. Meanwhile, she continued beating around the bush, took her time studying his apartment. A shoal of multicolored GloFish in his inbuilt aquarium attracted her attention. She towered over them, watching them scram, amused with their tiny little flippers and neon-colored scales. Corby watched her intently. The fish had an 8mm polycarbonate glass to protect them from the explosion, and her. He though, as per his usual, wasn't so lucky.
"Got yourself a fish tank too, huh? Fancy!" she exclaimed. Corby watched her, poker-faced. It was already there when he got here.
She looked at him from the corner of her eye, expecting him to blow up or throw a tantrum any moment now. Overstep his bounds with her somehow. But he learned his lesson with her the hard way. He wasn't going to blow up. He'd play it cool, play subordinate. Even though technically he didn't work for her anymore. But she, no doubt, was going to disagree.
"Those clever little bastards, what do you know…" she said, continuing the charade.
"Can you get to the point, General? I've had a rough night. I got things to do."
She turned to him. She taught him well. He learned the rules of the game alright by now. He was learning to be independent, she could tell. Trying his best. It was commendable of him. If only he wasn't still looking for somebody else's approval.
The condescending look on her face, Corby could have sworn he had it with that goddamn woman. He wished he was done playing her games. He wasn't hers to play with, not anymore. He was his own, he belonged to himself! He wished he could tell her that. But as he was getting his courage up, she beat him to it.
"I've got a mission for you, Major!" she said, in a more formal tone of voice now. She was done playing games. All of a sudden, she was all business.
"You know I failed my last mission," he droned. He didn't think she'd be offering him another one, not after something like this. After all, she personally booted him from the military.
"I know, I know," she confirmed, rather annoyed, without further elaboration.
"You want it or not? I would've preferred if you just said yes."
"What's the mission?" he asked.
"I need you to find a priest. Bring him to me. He's in danger, or we think he might be. And the government needs him. You know how that goes," she explained. "We'd rather minimize risk and have him brought to us safe."
"Any priest would do?" he quipped. She hated when people did that during briefings.
"No, unfortunately, we need one in particular."
"Why does a government want a priest?" he asked, growing weary of this conversation. The whole thing, so far, sounded preposterous. He wondered, for a second, if she made it all up just to poke fun at him. But he dismissed it. It wasn't her style. It was something else. He needed sleep. He was not as sharp as he would have liked to be at the moment. At any rate, he was sure she had a hundred men lined up for the job. He couldn't figure out why she decided to ask him to do it.
"That's classified," she replied, growing weary too. She didn't come here to beg him to take the job. It was just that, for some reason, she thought that he'd be up for it. He was still her best man. She trusted him. And she thought that maybe there was something he still needed to prove, if not to her then to himself maybe. But if he was going to be difficult, she would pull the offer off the table and think nothing else of it, she could swear. She cared for him but, as with everyone, she thought his fate was in his own hands.
"You want it or not? You have one shot at this, Major."
"I'll pass," he said, straight-faced. If she was going to put it like that, he had to.
She blinked, sighed, disappointed.
"Suit yourself!"
She showed herself to the door, and he watched her. She could have sworn he would have taken the job though. Guess, she was wrong. Maybe he didn't want her to baby him. Maybe he didn't want a second chance. Maybe he was beyond saving at this point. Maybe they all were. She couldn't put her finger on what it was. She was growing old. It was probably best to put these matters to rest now. Just as well, at the moment she had bigger problems.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Major!"