Three months to the day and Dashiell found himself caught in an unsettling situation of déjà vu. Everything from shining his boots to standing before the military tribunal with their long-winded speeches was the same. And yet he wasn't sure that previously he felt the same measure of tensed calm before the storm that he did now. His uniform was tight and itchy. Distractedly he wondered if he had used too much soap in the wash and not gotten it properly rinsed out.
Or maybe it wasn't the uniform. Maybe it was the room. Since when were the temperature controls allowed to get this high? Had there been a malfunction? He tugged gently at his collar and swallowed thickly before allowing his nervous, clammy hands to clasp loosely in front of him. It just was so fucking hot! How was he even expected to concentrate on what the tribunal was
saying when the room was sweltering?
"...in light of these events and after much deliberation, we have come to the conclusion that the only viable course of action regarding the currently suspended Solo pilot, Dashiell Merriwether Feldspar, despite the warnings and concerns of members of this tribunal, is to reinstate him, effective immediately. However, should this tribunal have cause to encounter the aforementioned pilot and reconvene on any matters relating to his volatile and dangerous nature then he will be stripped of all honors, dishonorably discharged, and sentenced to a minimum of thirty years in prison with no chance of parole. As head of this tribunal I call this hearing terminated. Lieutenant Feldspar you are free to go. You may recollect your confiscated weaponry once you have completed the required paperwork."
The sound of the gavel was like a gunshot to Dashiell's heart. While his elders shuffled up and out, he remained frozen for several minutes, still trying to process it all. It hadn't been with flying colors but he had actually done it. He had gotten his job back. He had earned their trust enough to reinstate him and he was now free to return to his old life. But, did he want to?
The sudden wave of disappointment he had initially felt at the news was terrifyingly shocking to him. Hadn't he wanted this? He tried to think about it objectively. Flying was his life. It was all he had ever wanted to do for as long as he could remember, long before Reese, the accident, the fights, Nicodemo.
The memory of warm kitchens and brewed tea drew a smile to Dashiell's lips finally as he saluted the room and made his required exit. If he returned to office then perhaps he could see more of a certain prickly knight. That alone almost made it worth the lonely slog getting back into the groove was going to be. But, there was an underlying concern that he was sure was part of the council's hesitance as well; would he slip so easily back into old patterns once set free in his old stomping grounds? Not even Dashiell could say. As much as he hated the old adage it seemed only time would tell.
Thoughts of time and worries and the garrulousness of crotchety, old windbags were all forgotten in an instant at the sight of a certain someone. Dashiell straightened his posture and lifted his chin seriously to the other figure before snorting and shaking his head. There was no need for posturing here. Nicodemo had seen enough of Dashiell's vile soul to know the truth of who he was.
"Slacker!" he barked to the Knight, striding close but refraining from embracing them this time. "What are you skulking about here for? Don't you Knights have jobs to do or something," he teased, although his head dipped low and his expression softened. He wasn't so alone in this after all.
He was interrupted from saying more as a sudden pinch to the back of his real ribs caused him to twitch slightly and his face to form a serious mask once again. "I suppose congratulations are in order Lieutenant Feldspar. I didn't expect you to succeed. Clearly you managed to learn something from me after all," the tall and broad-shoulder woman at Dashiell's elbow said.
"Are you going to introduce me to your friend or is he another one of your delinquent influences?"
The male werewolf ground his teeth together and squared his shoulders so tensely it was a miracle he didn't tear himself in two with the effort not to cause a scene. "Thank you, Colonel. May I introduce Nicodemo del-Nestore, one of Libra Station's most dedicated Knights."
"Ah yes," she declared with a self-satisfied smirk as she quite obviously looked them up and down. "The man my son assaulted. You'll have to forgive me, but I was under the impression you were a cripple. It's good to see you on your feet even if you are rather far from your sector.
"I must say though it is so kind of you to have forgiven Dashiell for the attack. Had it been me, I would have ensured he was rendered completely incapable of hurting anyone else ever again. It's a shame really he never took to my lessons growing up. He would have been a much better man had he heeded my advice. I wrote off most of his stunts with that Duo girl as childish rebellions but clearly I was not hard enough on him. My husband has always been too soft on him you see," she laughed. "He lacks the conviction to punish a child and thereby has led us to raise a rather spoiled and undisciplined manchild. We are so proud," Colonel Feldspar stated venomously.
"Perhaps though this new chance will be just what he needs to whip him into proper shape finally. Although I won't be holding my breath."
The more she talked, the more Dashiell's eyes clouded. It was as if a great raincloud had suddenly arrived and smothered the spark within him. In under a mere handful of minutes she had managed to completely humiliate him and strip him of any dignity and pride he might have felt in front of Nicodemo. No topic was ever safe with her after all. She was never happy and never satisfied. Why would now be any different? His failures were only another reminder of how close he could get to marring her perfect records and ruining her career by association. She was nothing if not cutthroat and the fact that Dashiell was the blood of her blood meant nothing in the face of her future.
