Caught in the Crossfire

There was a strange aura about the house the band of heroes had made their temporary headquarters. Everyone was clearly on edge, their hearts pounding in their throats as they readied for battle, no one willing to acknowledge aloud the incredible fear they felt deep in their souls. No one wanted to accept the cold, hard truth that it was entirely possible some of the heroic young adults wouldn’t make it back from the fight of their lives.

Oakley sat in the meeting room, where they’d earlier come up with a plan of attack. All heroes would stick with their partners, using headsets to communicate between different groups to call for help if it was needed. Oakley wouldn’t need a headset, of course, but she was getting set up with one anyway, just in case someone else needed her and she wasn't paying attention.

And while everyone geared up for the showdown of a lifetime, she lounged about and waited. She was already in her suit, a pair of pants and a shirt made of a loose, tough material Zayn had invented when she first started working with him. He’d been so afraid that she’d get cut or burned during a fight if she wore her regular clothes, so he made new ones for her.

Oakley felt an all-too-familiar presence emerge behind her, and her suspicions were quickly confirmed when a voice said, “Looks like you’re working hard to prepare.”

She turned around and smirked at Zayn cheekily. One of her favorite things about him was that he hadn’t turned soft after they had sex. She had been incredibly scared that he would start treating her like a girlfriend, being way too cheesy and doing dumb things like taking her hand absentmindedly and pressing his lips against the back of it while she spoke. But instead, he’d continued the same relationship they always had, speaking in sarcastic, witty tones that masked sexual tension underneath.

“I’m ready,” she assured him, her vibrant green eyes following him as he made his way across the room and parked his butt on the table in front of her. “Everyone else has to figure out what they’re going to work and load up with weapons. We’re already set.”

He nodded, as she hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know, and looked at her seriously. “You know, Oakley, if we get separated out there…”

“Don’t,” she rushed, stopping him in his tracks. “You’re making this sound like a goodbye, and you’re looking at me like I’m dead already. I promise you, I’m going to make it through this.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that,” Zayn laughed. When she gave him a short look of confusion, he clarified, “You’re way too stubborn to get killed.”

She cracked a smile, knowing that it was the truth. She loved fighting far too much to get it taken away from her so soon, and she knew she was going to make it, even if it was just so she could continue to kick ass in the future.

“If we do get separated,” Zayn started again, this time in a softer voice, leaning closer to Oakley, “just know that-”

She shook her head, gritting her teeth, trying to communicate how much she didn’t want to have that discussion. It sounded so certain, so final, and she couldn’t help but think that if he got whatever it was off his chest, then he wouldn’t fight as hard to stay alive.

So instead of using words, he pressed his lips against hers softly. As their mouths moved together in a way that was becoming incredibly familiar to Oakley, she struggled to ignore the emotions he was trying to communicate through the kiss: love, longing, sadness, fear. Emotions weren’t something she handled well, and she certainly didn’t want to work on the problem right then.

She pushed herself closer to him, moving her mouth faster against his, desperately attempting to take the kiss to a safer, more lustful place. Surely Harry wouldn’t mind if they had sex on the table in the meeting room, and it was a much better option than confessing any kind of love for one another.

But Zayn pulled away, thoroughly shocking her. “Don’t spoil it,” he pleaded. “For once in your life, let someone else have the control.”

She didn’t like it, but she complied, sitting back and letting him take command. Oakley had never been kissed so softly and sweetly in her life, and she had to tell herself over and over that she didn’t feel anything other than lust for the boy cupping her face like she was made of nothing more substantial than china.



Oakley could hear a faint buzzing noise in Zayn’s thoughts after he’d turned on his earpiece. If someone didn’t know it was there, the tiny device Penelope had given him would have gone completely unnoticed. The buzzing was inconvenient and gave Oakley a bit of a headache, but she knew it was something she had to deal with. Not reading Zayn’s mind throughout the entire fight was not an option if the two were going to work together as a cohesive unit.

Are you okay?

Oakley looked over at Zayn, who had spoken through his mind so Penelope couldn’t hear as she checked to make sure the earpiece worked, and nodded shortly.

And soon, they were mingling in with the tourists, pretending to check out Big Ben and enjoying the sights. Oakley got into her part, pointing out various things in their surroundings with a big smile on her face. Zayn looked amused, one corner of his mouth quirked up, and if Oakley pretended hard enough, she could ignore her racing heart and imagine they actually were tourists instead of heroes about to rush toward death.

It seemed like they were walking around forever before it happened. The blast was so loud that Oakley could hear her ears ringing, her arms instinctively reaching up to cover her face, while Zayn jumped immediately into action, running toward the source, ripping his plaid shirt off to expose the suit made of his own synthetic material hidden underneath.

“SHADOW FIGHTER,” Oakley screamed, her voice sounding unfamiliar and shrill in her ears. And soon, she found herself darting after him, shoving the cowering tourists out of her way as she struggled to keep her eyes on the dark-haired boy.

Stay back. The voice rang loudly and clearly in her ears, the words so much more important than the irritating buzzing underneath.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered, picking up her speed as the crowd of fleeing people thinned, “you know I’m not so good with orders.”

And so she worked to catch up with him.