A #Squadgoals Sidetrack, #1

(This is a flashback to an earlier mission, pre-Delia, through Primal’s eyes and in memory of David Bowie. It’s not much to do with the story, at all really, but a little #Squadgoals tribue to David Bowie and just how much Primal and I have used his music to be the best we can. I hope you enjoy it.)

/Primal sits like a child, huddled in a spot on the floor of their safe house in the country. She presses the earbuds deep into her canals, blocking out all of the world. Her fingers curl and clutch the Mp3 player, old and roughed up at its corners, but still gives some shine. She had a hard day out in the field. Freudenberger had not yet arrived to give her some consolation, as she usually did. She chose to hide away from the others, not letting them know, not letting them come in close. Flyboy, Spade, and Dali did not need to know how she grew small at the end of missions./

/She tried so hard to be “big,” to be “all grown up.” But the truth was she never had the ability to ever fully grow up. Not with what happened to her when she was young. Most of her would always stay that young simply because she couldn’t help it. She stood tall amongst her companions, then she would collapse to such a small, withered, helpless state alone. No one could know why she was like this. She didn’t like to know it herself./

/Primal sinks into her mind as David Bowie’s comforting, familiar voice soothes her. His live rendition of Jaques Brel’s “My Death” floated kindly through her. She feels herself rebuilding. Soon it ends, but she needs more. She let “See Emily Play” ring into her heart./

/Primal would be all right. Music always brought her back, especially when it was David Bowie calling her home./


She stirred.


She breathed.


She woke up. Flyboy and Dali had been trying to wake her. That memory was a dream. It was still a memory, but she dreamed it. Primal had her earbuds in, and “See Emily Play” was fading out. She was in the Jeep still, in Africa still. Their “road trip” was over, they had reached the next little town in Uganda.

“Delia is calling Freudenberger. You fell asleep!” Dali explained. “You don’t usually sleep on these trips, especially when your the driver’s ‘co-pilot.'”

Flyboy smiled at Primal, his sea-green eyes gentle and bright. “I’m glad you slept, I hope it was good.”

Primal was nervous, still feeling the dregs of being so small. She pulled herself up. “Sorry, I was just dreaming of a different time.”

“I do that all the time.” Dali said nonchalantly as she slid out of the Jeep.

Flyboy continued to look at Primal, smiling. “You going to be all right?”

Primal shrugged her usual mixed rant-humor over her sleepy, small demeanor. It wasn’t time to let go just yet. “Of course, Flybutts. Nothing a little David Bowie couldn’t solve.”

He smiled again and made his way out of the Jeep. “Good. I’m glad you felt safe enough to rest.”

You do help in making me feel safe, sometimes. She thought to herself as she turned off the Mp3 player and joined the others surrounding Delia.



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