Template:Featured Articles/2-2021
"Liebling," North murmured into her hair, both in greeting and as a reassurance. He hated how familiar he was with this state of affairs, but the fear clawing at his chest quickly dissipated with a deep sigh of relief together with the thin film of milky white covering his eyes. "Es wird alles gut." "Hey boo," she murmured into his shirt, wincing as a nearby mirror, one of the last survivors, spontaneously cracked. "Rating you five stars on Uber. Excellent service. You got an exit plan, my love?" "Ja," he responded, long strides making a beeline away from the chaos and toward the nearby parking lot, glass and debris crunching under his boots. In a matter of seconds, they were within the cover of darkness. "I will follow the GPS unless you have a preferred route." "Nah," she replied, a half smile. "I trust you. Come on, I'm just making inane conversation until we get home. What would any of our road trips be if I didn't pull up Google for no reason other than to second guess your weird mental compass?" "Have to keep my five star rating somehow," he chuckled, though the worry in his eyes was plain for all to see as he bundled her into a waiting car, unwrapped the thick woolen scarf from his neck and tucked it around her. He paused to steal a blood-tinged kiss before grabbing a packet of tissues from the backseat and placing it in her lap for her nose, together with a small glass bottle filled with what looked like small plants. Felicia curled into the seat, carefully trying not to touch anything. A seatbelt right now would just jam, and it was going to be a painfully slow drive, between the stoplights that always seemed to turn red and the straight up praying that the engine didn't choose now to fail. Ignoring the tissues for now she held the tiny bottle of four leaf clovers in her open palm, trying to breathe in a square like Remy had taught her. She closed her eyes tight, face screwing up against tears. The driver's side door opened and closed, and North quietly waited until she finally was able to speak. "It was an ambush. They're all dead." There was no good response to that, so the precog simply settled his hand on her knee, thumb gently caressing the bloodied fabric of her pants. He steered them carefully through the small streets with the aid of his powers and switched on the headlamps only just before entering a main street. "We will be home soon, darling." Her hand hovered over his, trembling, before she gingerly placed it on top. Felicia took another breath, held, released. "I love you." "I love you too, katz," he replied easily, squeezing her knee in reassurance for the both of them. Only he knew how hard his heart had plummeted when the vitals he had been monitoring went offline; how frantically he had spun through hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of possibilities just trying to locate her team like a needle in a haystack. "We'll run a hot bath and I've got enough stew in the fridge to tide us through until you can go anywhere. And I'll look into it, I promise." "Okay. Okay," she repeated, half to herself, as her body shuddered against the waves of abuse, mixed with her own hampered weeping. The left side of the street erupted in car alarms and she looked over at him, tired. "Fuck. Okay." "Es wird alles gut," he said in a tone, though gentle, was backed with firm conviction. It was going to be okay. "Trust me. I'm a precog."
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