thearena | Even in Hell there are shooting stars

Who| Jet and OPEN
What| Jet flies into the top of the barrier like a champ
Where| On the ground, then in the sky, then on the ground again.
When| Week 3, during Hellrena
Warnings/Notes| Potential hallucinations? Cyborgs.

When the air raid sirens went off and the mist cleared and the heat started in with a vengeance, the only thing Jet was immediately aware of was the fact something was crawling across his skin. At first, he thought it was one of those bugs that had made him sick, but pushing his sleeve up revealed familiar creases cutting though his skin as flesh turned synthetic and bone turned to metal. It felt like it should hurt, but just as with the ijiva he'd thought had left him, it was more like a switch being flipped than a transformation.

His hearing and sight sharpened, the feeling in his feet fled as everything from mid-thigh down turned a hundred percent metal, his mind even cleared a little as the cybernetics in his brain returned. As sluggish as his thought process was with his fever, it took a second or two before the realization dawned on him. He could fly again.

He began moving as though working on muscle memory and set a vague plan into motion. He found a hiding place in the house he'd stopped in to stash the supplies he'd been sent, the metal pipe and his boots and dashed back into the street. He was completely unconcerned with any creatures out for blood with his cybernetics returned and barely even paused before jumping into the air as his feet opened and flared to allow his jets to burst into life.

A steady mechanical hum accompanied with the sounds of thrusters firing filled the street and the blond hovered in the air a moment before shooting up into the sky.

It was a breath of fresh air to be airborne again, to feel the wind against his face and there was a large part of him that wanted to just fly around the whole damn arena for the fun of it, but he had to try something first. If this worked, then maybe he could help out Albert and Venus and Felicity and everyone else stuck in this place.

Up and up he flew, the barrier becoming visible to him through the radar flashing in his eyes. A readout in the corner of his vision told him how far away he was from the object--the dome--and turned red in warning as he got under a thousand feet. Closer, closer, he turned a bit and braced himself, aiming to hit the thing with his shoulder and hopefully bust through it. A hundred feet. Fifty feet. Ten feet.

It sounded like a large gun went off as the American struck against the barrier, but instead of breaking through like he'd hoped, he left a small dot of damage at the pinnacle of the dome and a ripple ran through the illusion of sky. Jet didn't see either of these things. As soon as his shoulder connected with the dome, electricity knifed through his systems and his organic parts and caused him to black out as parts of him temporarily shut down. Instead of simply falling as Jet shut down, the barrier shot him into a dilapidated three-story building that soon became all one level as the cyborg broke through it, leaving him unconscious, feverish and with a sparking shoulder in a bed of rubble.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His first instinct was to be offended and a little mad at being called an idiot, but it quickly fell away under shreds of guilt. Seventy years was a lifetime and while a chunk of those years might as well not count for the fact they were asleep, the remaining were more than enough to prove something that shouldn't need proving.

He'd proven plenty once he'd agreed to go further with their relationship.

"I don't think you're not serious, I know you are, It's just..." He went silent as he fought to find the words he was looking for. What it boiled down to was Jet figuring he wasn't really enough for Albert and that his partner would realize that once the right woman came along.

He didn't know how to say that without using words that might sound like they came from his father instead.

He moved and shifted in the other direction so he could wrap his arms around Albert's shoulders and pressed his nose into his fiance's neck.

"M' Sorry....I'm..I don't want to lose you to someone else. But I don't want to end up in your way either."

He buried his eyes and forehead into the junction of Albert's neck and shoulder, his voice growing quieter half to still be heard and half hoping he wouldn't be as he forced through his own head to get the words out his mouth.

"I just want you to be happy."

And while Jet knew he could do that for Albert at times, he also had an idea of how much grief he'd brought the German over the years. Part of his mind couldn't shake that surely his partner could find someone that gave him the former and not the latter.

"You won't lose me, and you're never in my way." Bloody or not, he curls his arms around Jet's shoulders, fingers immediately getting lost in the blond tufts at the back of his fiance's neck. It's sweaty and a little matted, but their unwashed state is hardly on Albert's mind right now. More he has to know how to prove it, what else he can do to prove to Jet that the man shivering in his embrace is the exact person he wants there.

"You are my way." He mumbles it helplessly into the side of Jet's head, lamenting privately that all he has is words right now. But he thought he'd been showing him, for however long it's been since they woke up on that island and he knows for longer, though he can see how it wouldn't have appeared that way, not with Jet's reaction to Bina's image. How could Jet know that at Albert's core it's only been his partner's name etched there since they'd fought Black Ghost, that even when he'd been grieving over Hilda, grieving over his loss of body, loss of self, Jet had already lit that guilty little spark in him that had grown to such a roaring, steady flame? That he doesn't have words for; words would make it hollow. Language sometimes fails to express the most important things. It's times like that when he wishes he had music, but in here there's none of that either.

"How do I show you?" Albert pulls away, enough to cup Jet's chin and look him in the eyes. "How can I convince you that you're everything because you're you?"

There's doubt in Jet's eyes, not because he doubts Albert's conviction, but because he doubts he could be everything for nothing. Just because he's him.

But Albert's words don't fall on fully deaf ears, Jet hears them and he believes that Albert means that now and has always meant it and will probably (hopefully) continue to mean it in the future and that thought warms the blond through out. The only thing to temper that warmth was his own frustration with himself that he couldn't think of answer for his partner.

Long fingers rise to run along prominent cheek bones and into silver hair while blue eyes remain steady on white. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

He wished he could think of whatever magical word or act would cement the idea in his head, but nothing came to mind, nothing chased away that little 'what if I'm not enough?' in the back of his head.

"But maybe you could start by kissing me."

He probably shouldn't, given Jet's fever, but Albert disregards caution and kisses Jet anyway. He pours every once of affection he can muster into that kiss, all his fear of losing the man at his side, all his want for them to have an actual life together when they can break free of this terrible place. Maybe even before. They have a life together already and though it may not be ideal, it's certainly better than facing these things alone. There's that guilty part of him that's glad Jet is here even if he wants Jet as far away from danger as possible. Even that is in this kiss.

It's not magic, and it may do nothing really to convince Jet that Albert has him right where he wants him, but it's all he has until he figures it out.

Jet presses back only seconds after the kiss starts, momentarily distracted by just how strong it is. He'd been expecting something light and simple, but that's not what this was and it made his throat get rough for a moment.

His arms drew even tighter around the German and held him there in the kiss for a long time, a lot longer than their normal kisses considering their cybernetics allowed them longer time without air. But eventually, he did pull away and buried his face against Albert's neck.

"Thanks."

"Of course," he holds Jet tightly, one hand at the nape of the blond's neck and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. Somehow, he'll convince him. Whatever it takes.

"When we get out of here, whatever the circumstance, we're having the ceremony."

"Yeah?"

He smiled into Albert's neck, a certain sense of calm settling on him like a blanket. Whatever the circumstance, soon he would be married to Albert and that thought on it's own was enough to make a place like the arena seem a little brighter.

It didn't matter what bull the capitol tried to throw at them, they could get through it like this.

"Sounds good to me."

"Good. I think seventy years of waiting is long enough." Maybe that will convince him, the ring becoming binding and permanent, a contract between them to never be apart again - or at least as far as they can help it with their lives and the constant dying and coming back to life that had been an issue even before they'd ever come to Panem.

Not the most romantic thought, though, so he keeps it to himself.

The German plants another kiss to the side of his fiance's head, gently coaxing him to lay down. "Get a little more sleep. The pills should help break the fever for good, but you still need to rest. We'll move in a few hours."

Seventy years was a really long time, he hadn't really thought about it before. Seventy years was how long people spent married, not how long they waited to get married...maybe there'd be another seventy waiting for them after this arena was over. That thought alone put a warmth in him.

He laid back and let his eyes slide shut, although he wrapped his fingers around one of Albert's hands as he did. "You need some rest too. You don't need to play watch dog all the time."

"I'll rest when the rations are all prepared." Truth told he doesn't feel comfortable enough shutting his eyes with all the meat spread out and potentially attracting predators, animal or otherwise.

"I can't get any real rest until you recover, anyway. There's no one else I would have at my back."

Jet's face heated in a way he suspected wasn't to do with the fever and his expression twisted to one of irritation. He hated and loved when Albert said things he didn't know how to respond to. It was annoying and highlighted his inability to express himself well, but it made his heart flutter and threaten to burst from his chest.

"Shut up, Heinrich." He huffed and turned slightly away from his partner.

A pause. "Good thing I've always got it."

Even in Hell there are shooting stars

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