The Storybook Dimension

Title: First Impressions
Summary: Sky isn’t too happy about the newest recruit to D-squad. A Sky/Bridge friendship fic… eventually.
Author: Seren Maris
Genre: Angst/Friendship
Rating: T

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Chapter 3

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When a lab assistant came to Boom with a message, saying that a friend wanted to talk to him and was waiting outside, he knew it had to be Bridge – and that something was wrong.

The cadet was pacing back and forth agitatedly as if he was going to wear a path in the floor, and a dark bruise was forming on the left side of his face. “I really tried,” Bridge confessed brokenly, “but I can’t do it. I’m not good enough.”

“What happened?” Boom asked, drawing Bridge to the side, away from curious eyes and ears.

And so Bridge told him everything. “And now Sky doesn’t want me on the squad anymore. He said so. I asked him for another chance, but he wouldn’t even listen to me. Maybe,” Bridge added sadly, “maybe if I was more like Dru…”

“Look, I knew Dru,” Boom said. “He was a brilliant fighter, but he was mean, and a bully. You aren’t anything like him and you don’t want to be. That’s why you’re on a squad and he’s out in the Nebula Academy.”

“Mean and a bully.” Bridge looked up. “Kind of like Sky?”

Boom shook his head. “Sky can be really insensitive, and he’s not really good with people, but he’s not a bully.”

“He could have fooled me,” Bridge said bitterly.

Boom didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t like Bridge to be so unhappy – Bridge was the friendliest person he knew! “I know I’m just a gadget tester,” Boom finally said, “but I’ll try to talk to him.”

“I don’t think it’ll help,” Bridge said. “Sky’s already made up his mind – he made up his mind about me the moment I joined the squad, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

—

Wrapped in a towel, Syd padded back to her room, leaving wet footprints in the carpet. To her surprise, Sky was waiting outside of her room door. He seemed tense, anxious even. “I told Bridge that I didn’t want him on the squad,” Sky said bluntly, before she had a chance to speak.

“Why?” Syd asked, stunned.

“I saw him get into a fight with group of trainees today,” Sky said. “Syd, you should have seen it – the way he hit that trainee. He looked like he was really going to hurt him.”

“Bridge isn’t a bully,” Syd said, with absolute conviction in her voice.

Sky shrugged. “I know what I saw.”

She tried a different approach. “Well, what did Bridge say about it?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Because you didn’t ask him, or because he wouldn’t tell?” Syd asked astutely, a twinge of anger in her voice.

“… I didn’t ask him.”

“So you don’t know. Look, Sky, you know what I think? I think you’re letting your feelings for Dru get in the way of your judgment. Bridge is not Dru. He could never be Dru, or replace him. But he’s a good person, and a good cadet, all on his own. If you gave him half a chance you’d see that. And now you’re going kick him off the squad when he’s been here for what, two days?”

“Three,” Sky mumbled, but she ignored him.

“Besides, as I remember it, you weren’t the greatest cadet when you first were promoted to this squad. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t,” Sky admitted, starting to feel a little guilty. He had made several mistakes during his own first year on D-squad. Maybe, just maybe, he was being too hard on Bridge.

“Well, you should think about it, and then talk to Bridge once you’ve made up your mind. But I think you owe him an apology.”

—

He couldn’t stand to go back to his new room – Sky might be waiting there, and he wasn’t ready to face him. On the other hand, he couldn’t go back to the trainee dorms; his old roommates would ask far too many uncomfortable questions. So instead, he left SPD, and walked down to the local store.

Picking up a basket, he wandered up and down the junk food aisle, filling it with salty snacks. “Well, I guess there’s no point in moving the rest of my stuff, since I’m going to be moving back to my old room in the next couple days,” Bridge thought, stashing a second package of pretzels in the basket.

Completing one final circuit down the aisle, he went to stand in line. There were at least five people ahead of him, but none of them seemed to be from SPD. He didn’t notice the two masked men who entered from the back door until it was too late.

Gunfire sprayed the ceiling, and Bridge ducked on instinct.

“Everybody down!” One gunman said, shouting over the screams. The second gunman jumped on over the counter, putting a gun to the cashier’s head. “Hand over the money, or I’ll shoot!” The terrified man opened the register with trembling hands, dropping a good portion of the money on the floor.

A teenaged girl with short brown hair caught the first thief’s eye. Striding up to her, he pulled her to her feet, casually placing the gun at her neck. “Please don’t kill me,” she begged tearfully.

“Do what I say, and I won’t have to.” The thief looked her up and down. “You’re kind of pretty. Maybe we should just take you with us – finish you off later.”

“No, don’t!” The girl managed, and was rewarded with a vicious blow to the head. She slumped to the ground and lay motionless. The gunman simply laughed cruelly, and kicked her again.

Bridge was on his feet in an instant. “Leave her alone!”

—

“Um… can I talk to you?”

Sky ignored the voice at first. They were probably talking to someone else, and besides, he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. But then the speaker repeated himself and Sky, looking up from his datapad, found himself face-to-face with an unfamiliar man in a science uniform.

“Who are you?” Sky asked bluntly, impatience lacing his voice.

Boom took a deep breath. “My name is Boom… just Boom. I’m one of Kat’s assistants.”

“Boom, I’m kind of busy right now, so…”

“Bridge told me what happened,” Boom interrupted. “I just thought you should know – those trainees you let go – they’ve bullied Bridge for ages. Ask anyone in his class, and they’ll tell you it’s true. Anyhow, you should really give him a chance, you know. Bridge is my friend, so I’m kind of biased, but he’s a really great guy.”

Long after Boom had left, Sky stared at the screen, lost in thought. First there was Syd, and now this guy – Bridge certainly was good at getting people onto his side.

Sky bit his lip and wondered if he could have misjudged someone so badly.

—

Bridge rushed at the first gunman, shoving him away from the girl. Crashing into a shelf, the man fell in a rain of cans and bottles. The gun slipped from his hand and slid across the floor, coming to rest beneath one of the refrigerators.

“You’ll pay for that, you little punk!” His partner growled. A bullet missing Bridge by inches, and he ducked behind a shelf, looking for something, anything he could use as a weapon. Picking up a can of dog food, he threw it with all his strength at his attacker.

The can hit the second their on the forehead, right above his eyes. The criminal stumbled backwards and slumped against the counter, unconscious.

The first gunman slowly got to his feet. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he rushed at Bridge. Bridge ducked, but not fast enough – the knife slashed a searing path across his shoulder.

Acting on instinct, Bridge kicked his attacker in the knee, and was rewarded with a yelp of pain. Using his good arm, he followed up with an elbow strike to the neck, which sent the criminal staggering backwards, clutching his throat.

A noise came from nearby, a soft whimper of pain and fear. Bridge turned to find the source of the noise, a moment of distraction which cost him dearly.

He heard a gunshot, and then another in quick succession. Bridge looked down. Two dark stains were spreading from the middle of his shirt outwards. He tried to take a breath, but it caught in his throat. ‘I’ve been shot.’ Bridge realized, his thoughts sluggish and disconnected. He sunk to the ground, his legs unwilling to hold him.

As if through a lens, he watched as his shooter came to stand above him. The man was limping and clutching his head painfully. Sparing Bridge a cold look, the criminal spat on him disdainfully. Clutching the bag of money, he ran out the door, without giving his injured partner a backwards glance.

There was a moment of silence, and then Bridge heard quick footsteps. A blurry shape came to stand over him. “Oh God. Please, somebody help.” The voice above him was saying. There was blood on her hands and shirt, and he realized dimly that it was his own.

A salty tear dripped down onto his face, and he tried to speak, tried to reassure her, but nothing came out except a strangled gurgle. Bridge gasped for air as his vision turned yellow, then brown, and then everything faded to black.

—

To Be Continued

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