Songbird

He was nervous, of course. Just barely eighteen and already working for a top-secret organization. He’d had the job for about a year now, but this was the first time he was really doing much of anything for it. It wasn’t really any surprise that whoever was in charge was reluctant to do anything with him. The only reason he’d gotten the job in the first place, he suspected, was because his parents both work there- the parents that decided at some point to never return home to their children, leaving Mikell to take care of his siblings by himself.
He was lost, sure, but he was glad that at least it wasn’t assigned seating, because lord knows how they would organize this- everything he’d seen so far had been just as confusing as the last. Knowing his luck, he’d probably mix something up and sit in somebody else’s seat.
So, of course he was confused when a man, looking to be in about his late thirties walked up to him. “That’s my seat.” He didn’t seem necessarily angry, but he was intimidating enough for Mikell’s nerves to kick in, murmuring an apology and getting up to sit somewhere else. The longer he sat and thought about it, the less sense it made. He gave up trying to figure out how things such as that worked.

-

He huffed and sat down, tapping his fingers on the edge of the bus window once more. He hadn’t had much of a consistent seating, so he decided that he’d just move to wherever there weren’t any people. It had been a couple days since the first incident, which was still complete nonsense to him. But he’d brushed it off anyway, as it wasn’t really that important.
So what had jarred him the most was when the man that had claimed that seat that day came around to him- and at once he remembered this was the seat he sat in. He took a breath and was about to apologise, but the man just sat down next to him, not saying anything about it. So Mikell decided it would be wise to hold his tongue.
It was nervewracking, sitting next to the man. He had the feeling that at any moment, he would be told off.
“You’re new, aren’t you?”
The question had caught Mikell off guard, so it took him a second of hesitation before he answered. “Yeah- Yeah, I’m new.” The man nodded.
“Do you have an agent designation, yet?”
“No..?”
“Hm. Well, can you tell me your name?”
“Mikell Bright. Can you tell me yours?”
“No. But you can call me agent Ermine.”
Mikell just nodded, and they descended back into silence for a few moments more.
“Where’re your parents?”
“Working at the Foundation, somewhere.” he looked out the window.
“They don’t seem very responsible, letting somebody young as you take this job.”
Mikell shrugged. “It is what it is.”

-

“Hey, kid, toss me your hat.” Ermine and Mikell had somehow managed- through a stroke of luck- to be grouped in a dormitory together. Things were going pretty well, with Mikell having a better idea of what was going on, and an agent name: Agent Cowboy. As stupid as it might seem, he quite liked it. He honestly didn’t think that’s what he looked like until Ermine had brought it up, and he decided that he might as well go for it.
Mikell tossed the black cowboy hat over to Ermine, who caught it and began sticking something in the band. “What’s that?” Ermine didn’t respond, but tossed it back to Mikell, who- after fumbling a bit- managed to catch it. He turned it around to see what Ermine had done- two brown and white feathers stuck, angled back. He smiled.
“I knew you liked feathers, so I found those out on a hike and decided you might want them.” Ermine chuckled.
“Thanks.” Mikell put the hat back on, tilting it down a little bit more than usual so that the feathers could be more easily seen.
Ermine looked him over. Mikell was taller than him, but it was still pretty obvious that he was quite a bit younger.
“One day, I think you’re gonna become an O5. An Overseer.”
“What’s that?”
“The head of everything at the Foundation. The managers, essentially.”
“You really think so..?”
Ermine nodded. “You’ve got what it takes, kid. I can tell.”
Mikell was taller than him, but it still looked- from the way he always followed him around- like Ermine was his father. And Ermine doesn’t think that would be too bad.

-

Foot thumped against grass as Ermine and Mikell ran away from the one surviving insurgent- they couldn’t fight this one, being both out of ammo and energy. So they ran. They ran like their life depended on it. And it did.
Usually, Ermine and Mikell will manage to slip out of situations like this, then laugh about it later, remarking on the odds.
This time, that didn’t happen.
The insurgent shot their last round of bullets, uncoordinated but in their general direction. Most whizzed past, adding onto their already racked up nerves. Except for the bullet that lodged into Ermine’s side, knocking him down. Mikell immediately stopped and ran back, not caring if he also got shot at this point- but the insurgent was out of bullets, and ran back to the shelter.
He crouched down, lifting up Ermine’s head, giving him some support. “Ermine, Ermine, just- just breathe.” Mikell was panicked, and probably should have heeded his own advice. Ermine just shook his head. “Cowboy, I’m-”
“Yes you are! Don’t- Don’t say that.” Mikell’s voice cracked with emotion, which he was forcefully holding back. Ermine just shook his head. Mikell ripped a bit of his shirt off and held it over the wound, applying pressure.
Ermine reaches behind his neck, causing himself significant pain. “Stop, Ermine, what’re you doing?! You're gonna make the wound worse!” He ignored him. He took a second but then took of a necklace. “What..?”
“Lean in, son.”
Mikell did as told, and Ermine reached out to put the necklace on him. When he was done, he sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes with a heavy breath.
Mikell would not take this as an answer. He heaved Ermine up with all his strength, starting to run again. Ermine was heavy. The blood soaked his clothes, dripping into the grass as Mikell ran. If I can just make it to the hospital. He can make it. We can make it.
He only got about halfway when he’d reached the camp where the other two people in his squad were staying. They saw this and immediately knew what had happened. Agent Willow grabbed him and pulled him back to stop him from keeping on. “Cowboy, put him down.”
“No! Let me go, he needs help!”
“Cowboy, goddamnit are you blind? He’s dead. I hate to be so blunt with you, man, but he’s dead.” He huffed and shook his head exasperatedly.
Willow just rolled her eyes and tried forcing him to let go of Ermine. “No!” Cowboy yelled, staggering back and falling on his rear.
Willow felt horrible, yeah, but he couldn’t keep on dragging a corpse for another mile. He needed to at least put down the body. Agent Cobralily- the other member- came over to help Willow tear Ermine away from Mikell, holding him back in a chokehold. Mikell screamed and kicked and scratched and bit and fought. But he couldn’t keep his grip on that blood-slicked body.

-

He kept his eyes on the ground. He hadn’t changed out of the suit he’d worn to the funeral yesterday. He touched the feathers in the band of his hat, which he’d set down on his lap. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel.
Shouldn’t have gotten close to him. That was a stupid fucking idea.
The doorknob turned and the door opened with a quiet noise. Mikell barely looked up. Cobralily stepped into his room and sat next to him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at his hat as well, putting a hand on his sweetly. He almost flinched at her touch. “Do you want someone to talk to?” He shook his head no. “…okay.” They say in awkward silence for a moment.
“Cowboy, can I tell you something?”
No words. Just a nod.
“I think I have feelings for you.” She looked up at him. He seemed to almost want to shrink into himself. “Do you think we could… be a thing?”
Mikell didn’t think before nodding again.
A decision he learned to regret.