The Orchard

“I’m really fucking stupid, aren’t I?” William asked when he realized he wasn’t alone.

“You’re eighteen,” Weir said.

“I thought I…” William trailed off, staring out at the plains stretched out around the Avenger. From up on the raised flight deck you could see for kilometers. “Guess I thought with all that training ADVENT drilled into my head I knew what I was doing. I don’t think Montoya is going to let me live that thing with the tree down.”

“You can take some comfort in the fact you aren’t anywhere near as bad as I was at your age.” Weir walked over to sit beside him on a stack of crates.

“That’s messed up,” William said.

Weir laughed.

“Work on that tact, sergeant. No one likes people who are too blunt.”

“People like Central,” William said. “He’s always blunt.”

“He’s also naturally kind and optimistic, so he can usually get away with it. You are neither.” 

William fell silent at that.

John had tact. Not the kind that came from white lies or softening bad news. His was the kind that came from silence. He frowned and furrowed his brow a lot, but only on rare occasion did he ever complain or talk back. Just how ADVENT taught him. When they escaped, William blew up, while John had retreated into a shell. He had become both happier and so much quieter.

And William had a bad feeling he was part of the problem.

“I think you’re right,” he said to Weir.

The Commander only made a questioning hum in response.

“I think it might be a good idea if I got off the Avenger for a few months,” he said.

“Den Mother will be thrilled. She has all these new ideas for Haven defenses. She won’t stop hounding me for someone to bounce them off of,” Weir said.

The Commander didn’t think he had the practical experience or disposition to be anywhere near an officer’s position–an opinion William had to admit by now wasn’t unfounded–but he felt his theoretical knowledge of how ADVENT military strategy worked could be invaluable to Den Mother. Weir himself couldn’t be at her beck and call 24/7. Sending William to the Haven would get rid of Weir’s problem soldier and benefit Den Mother. Both leaders won.

“Should I be expecting a request from Ford to accompany you?” Weir asked.

“No.” William’s shoulders hunched. “It’s better if–I need to be on my own for a little while.”

“It can be good to spend some time apart. Give yourselves a little breathing room.” Weir stood up. “Just make sure that’s what this is and you aren’t running away from a problem better discussed. Good night, sergeant.”

The Commander walked away. William brought his arms up to hug himself.

William hated parties.

And crowds.

And politics.

And Weir.

And ADVENT.

William hated a lot of things, but that was nothing new. Just in case someone wasn’t aware of this little fact, he glared at everyone who passed within three meters of him. John included, though it lost most of its heat on him.

John stared back such in a way Will knew it meant: ‘you brought this on yourself.’

He wasn’t wrong. Hell, he had asked for this.

William really hated the Commander and the big target he sported. Why couldn’t they lock the man alone in his quarters? That way he’d be safe from assassins and everyone else wouldn’t have to deal with Weir’s personality. Everybody wins.

Except John seemed to think imprisoning the Commander wasn’t a reasonable solution. William couldn’t imagine why not.

Which brought him to volunteering to bodyguard at the party meant to honor Weir and XCOM for everything they had accomplished. Central wasn’t here.  William could see in the way Weir glanced to his right as if expecting someone to be standing there that Central’s presence was missed.

He shifted in his spot and watched Weir laugh at something Den Mother said. His smile stretched across his face, but didn’t quite reach his eyes. Eyes that got this pinched look to them when he was surrounded by too many people. It was his only tell and you’d only know it if you spent a lot of time examining the man. 

William hated his eyes did the same thing. At least he didn’t have to pretend like he was having a good time. 

John finished his sweep of the room. He returned to take up position by one of the big windows on either side of the entrance. The meeting hall was a large one, befitting Freedom Point’s status on the top five largest havens in the resistance. Plenty of people from all over the area had come in attendance.

In short, it was a security nightmare. Large crowded room and advertised in advance. He knew Central and Weir had a serious talk about backing out, but that would mean a huge dip in morale. Something they couldn’t afford.

When they left Central standing in the hanger bay he looked about ready to run out to join them anyway, despite the danger that would put XCOM in. They couldn’t make a target out of both the first and second in command. In Central’s opinion, they shouldn’t make a target out of the Commander at all, but Weir had spoken.

And William had kept his mouth shut about the assassination plot he unearthed. He wanted to to say something, but trying to put into words that he was still in contact with ADVENT was…

Well he wouldn’t have to confess anything if he took care of the problem himself. John thought it was dumb. He thought it was even dumber when William volunteered for guard duty.

“You know that tipped him off, right?” John had said. No ‘maybe’ about it.

Too late now. 

William spiked the punch the second the party started. He dumped a whole bottle of vodka into the oversized bowl, much to the Commander’s dismay. 

None of them would be drinking any of it, of course. Guard duty meant sobriety, but observing who and who wasn’t getting pissed could prove valuable information. 

Montoya sidled up to him.

“Who do you like?” he asked.

“The woman in the pink jacket,” William said. Not much older than him, she stood on the second floor landing looking down on the majority of the crowd. Stone cold sober and she checked on the placement of him and the other bodyguards once every five minutes.

Montoya clicked his tongue.

“Could be one of Den Mother’s,” he suggested.

“Fine, then,” William said. “Who do you suspect?”

“Everyone.” Montoya grinned.

“Anyone specific?”

“I dunno, do you hold a grudge against our intrepid leader?” Montoya asked.

William rolled his eyes and moved to stand a little closer to Weir. More within tackling range in case he was right about the woman on the balcony.

The Commander was shaking hands with people now. They’d get him signing things next at this rate.

He scanned the crowd, stopping on a man in a hoodie trying to catch his eye. He grinned at William and nodded at the Commander as if to say, ‘go on, I’ve got you covered.’

William sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. He understood. The hit first, so they knew for sure their target was dead. Then chaos second, to obscure the evidence.

How were they going to provide cover? Shooters? Bomb?

He didn’t know. All William could think to do was grab his shotgun and fire it over the heads of the crowd.