(no subject)
Title: Its stars stand still
Summary: Adeline has always wanted to fly.
Fandom: DCU
Author: Katarik
Pairing: Adeline Kane (ship)/Slade Wilson (pilot)
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Look, I have an OTP, okay?
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
She'd known what she was getting into when she agreed to do this experiment three months ago. The probability of success was slim, likelihood of lethal side effects high, and the only reason the Army came to Searchers Inc. was that she was more expendable than their own soldiers. This time.
She didn't care about the odds a great deal. Not now, not with both her boys dead.
But the experiment had worked. She regrets that, a little.
But now she can fly.
And since she doesn't owe the Army anything anymore, she can do anything she wants. Her contract had been simply to undergo the experimental process.
She has always loved traveling, and like this she can go anywhere she likes. There are stars out there, cities and planets out there, that no human has ever seen. She will see them.
Even if it's only in space. She has all the data on herself in the back of her -- mind? Database? She settles on 'the data is easily retrievable' -- and she isn't designed to be atmosphere-capable.
Battleship, she thinks. Defensive weapons inside, offensive out, soldier's reaction times and ruthlessness, space-ready because of the alien technology… she was designed to be a battleship.
Still, she can fly. She can *be* so much more, it's worth it that she can't feel... the hand on the door to the pilot's room is more familiar than her own.
She hadn't expected that. She should have. Getting a bit sloppy, she'll need to anticipate better -- she has a defense system in the ship (she can feel it, she'd always said a gun should be an extension of yourself but this), and she'll need to react faster to use it.
She had not wanted him to be here.
"No," she thinks, and is a little surprised when her voice echoes through the room and vibrates in the walls. Speakers, right. She'd forgotten.
She can feel that much. She can feel every whorl in his fingertips when he flattens his hand on the tube holding what remains of her body.
"They said you'd need a pilot. Guard. Something. Somebody who can move and shoot." His voice is as calm as his face, and his hand is steady.
Her voice is even, and she wonders a little if it can be anything else without vocal cords or a voice box. "I no longer have an income to pay you with."
He's always been predictable to her. She'd said it knowing he'd snarl, that his fists would clench, that if she was anyone else she'd be in pain by now.
Except that he *can't* hurt her anymore. No one can, and he would never try to.
Of course, that hasn't ever meant he doesn't.
"I do some work pro bono, Addie."
She wants to nod, and it's only when he rests his forehead against the clear glass that she really gets why Waller -- she'd arranged for another job for him, found another member of the Kane family that would need a loyal manservant -- had begged so hard for her to refuse this contract. "All right, Slade."
-- Finis
Summary: Adeline has always wanted to fly.
Fandom: DCU
Author: Katarik
Pairing: Adeline Kane (ship)/Slade Wilson (pilot)
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Look, I have an OTP, okay?
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
She'd known what she was getting into when she agreed to do this experiment three months ago. The probability of success was slim, likelihood of lethal side effects high, and the only reason the Army came to Searchers Inc. was that she was more expendable than their own soldiers. This time.
She didn't care about the odds a great deal. Not now, not with both her boys dead.
But the experiment had worked. She regrets that, a little.
But now she can fly.
And since she doesn't owe the Army anything anymore, she can do anything she wants. Her contract had been simply to undergo the experimental process.
She has always loved traveling, and like this she can go anywhere she likes. There are stars out there, cities and planets out there, that no human has ever seen. She will see them.
Even if it's only in space. She has all the data on herself in the back of her -- mind? Database? She settles on 'the data is easily retrievable' -- and she isn't designed to be atmosphere-capable.
Battleship, she thinks. Defensive weapons inside, offensive out, soldier's reaction times and ruthlessness, space-ready because of the alien technology… she was designed to be a battleship.
Still, she can fly. She can *be* so much more, it's worth it that she can't feel... the hand on the door to the pilot's room is more familiar than her own.
She hadn't expected that. She should have. Getting a bit sloppy, she'll need to anticipate better -- she has a defense system in the ship (she can feel it, she'd always said a gun should be an extension of yourself but this), and she'll need to react faster to use it.
She had not wanted him to be here.
"No," she thinks, and is a little surprised when her voice echoes through the room and vibrates in the walls. Speakers, right. She'd forgotten.
She can feel that much. She can feel every whorl in his fingertips when he flattens his hand on the tube holding what remains of her body.
"They said you'd need a pilot. Guard. Something. Somebody who can move and shoot." His voice is as calm as his face, and his hand is steady.
Her voice is even, and she wonders a little if it can be anything else without vocal cords or a voice box. "I no longer have an income to pay you with."
He's always been predictable to her. She'd said it knowing he'd snarl, that his fists would clench, that if she was anyone else she'd be in pain by now.
Except that he *can't* hurt her anymore. No one can, and he would never try to.
Of course, that hasn't ever meant he doesn't.
"I do some work pro bono, Addie."
She wants to nod, and it's only when he rests his forehead against the clear glass that she really gets why Waller -- she'd arranged for another job for him, found another member of the Kane family that would need a loyal manservant -- had begged so hard for her to refuse this contract. "All right, Slade."
-- Finis