by Danika Stone
The screen went white.
The unnamed Rebel leader reappeared, and the jaunty trill of the original Starveil theme filled the air. The man’s fists were poised on his hips. He stood in front of a map, which marked the many Rebel bases from all quadrants of the galaxy. (The image was a fan-created graphic borrowed from the current Starveil wiki.) The camera whizzed into a close-up of the major’s face. His straight-edged jaw was brushed by a blue shadow of stubble, disheveled strands of black hair hanging into brooding eyes.
“Your determination. Your research. Your proof of Spartan’s whereabouts are the only hope we have for his safe return.” The camera cut to a medium shot—showing the ragged edge of the Rebel coat, light glittering on the metal barrel of a blaster—and then back to a close-up of his face. A wide shot of the Rebel base on Io (recognizable from the fourth Starveil film) appeared for a moment. Two men—Matt Spartan and someone who might have been Major Malloy—stood side by side, laughing in the foreground.
“Matt Spartan fought alongside me on Sardis. He saved my life, and I intend to do the same for him.”
The on-screen image switched back to a rendering of the solar system, the major posed in front of it. He pointed to a glowing spot on the screen, and the map swirled in response.
“There are other people in the Rebellion—other troops and resistance fighters—who may have seen Captain Spartan…” More pointing, more points of light across the solar system. “These people have given us the first hints of his whereabouts. It is my utmost hope you are one of them.
“We need to take up Spartan’s fight, no matter what the personal risk.” The man glared into the camera, and the music’s tempo shot up. “Join us!” he shouted. “Show us where you’ve seen Spartan alive. Tell us the rumors you’ve heard. And the Rebels will bring him back for you … alive!”
The #SpartanSurvived hashtag appeared, and the screen went black, music dying on its final pulse.
Xander burst into applause, the lacy cuffs of his shirt a blur.
“Holy shitballs, Liv, that’s motherfucking fantastic!”
Liv broke into a peal of laughter. “Jeez, Xander. You kiss your mom with that mouth?”
He grabbed her arm. “Can I use it in my acting portfolio? Can I? Please? Please! I’ve gotta use it!” His grin was contagious.
“Sure, I guess.” Liv giggled. “Though you should know that all those scenes are ripped. I lifted them from the Starveil films, so it’s not totally legal.”
“So what? You made me look…” Xander shook his head. “Like a Hollywood heartthrob or something.”
Liv burst into another peal of laughter, and he shoved her arm, his smile fading.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“No, wait!” she choked, unable to breathe. “That’s not what I mean at all, it’s just…” She caught sight of Xander’s face and the white collar starched beneath his chin. He looked so irritated and prim she couldn’t stop. Giggles popped free from Liv’s chest. “I can’t—I meant—I—”
One brow lifted scornfully. “If this is supposed to be making me feel better, it’s not working.”
She pressed her hands to her mouth, chest quaking. “I’m sorry. Really I am.”
He shook his head and looked away.
“Seriously, Xander. I’m not laughing at you.” She caught hold of his arm. “I’m laughing because you just don’t get it.”
“No,” he grumbled. “I don’t.”
Liv’s giggles faded as she realized he wasn’t exaggerating; he was upset. “I’m sorry, Xander. I was only laughing because you are that person. The Hollywood heartthrob look just gets lost under the lace and brocade.”
He gave her a seething look.
“Don’t get me wrong—I love it! Your stellar eighteenth-century fashion sense is fantastic.”
“It’s nineteenth century, actually,” he sniffed.
“Fine, nineteenth.” She looked down, realizing she was still clinging to his arm, and pulled back her hand. “But the problem is, most people don’t appreciate it. I’m sorry I laughed before. It wasn’t about you.”
He waved away her words. “Nothing to be sorry for. I misunderstood.” He tapped the laptop’s screen. “Oh! And I’m definitely taking a copy of this for my drama portfolio.”
Liv hit Send. “Just don’t say I never helped you with your homework.”
“Never.” He hit Play again, and the music restarted. “But you’re still going to help me sew the rest of my cosplay, right?”
Liv frowned. “But I thought it was just a new waistcoat.”
“I’ve got another jacket I want to finish. Breeches, too. I need both of them by midterm.”
Liv turned to Xander, just as he appeared on-screen. “Hey now. This cosplay’s part of your upcoming costuming course, isn’t it?!”
“Maybe. Maybe not.…” He smirked. “CU posts all course outlines online now. You could get ahead on your projects, too, you know.”
“But that means I’m doing your homework for you!” She crossed her arms. “No way!”
“You’ll do it if you want an actor for your next vid,” Xander drawled.
“You blackmailing bastard!”
Xander gave an enigmatic smile. “I prefer Major R. C. Malloy, Rebel leader.”
* * *
The spring semester began with a rush of preparations. New classes meant new people, and new people meant anxiety. Liv spent her first day back on campus slumped in the back of the classroom, hoping her terrified silence passed for aloofness.
Her course load involved two postproduction classes that seemed interesting; a history of film class she’d taken with Xander, which ran two nights a week; a math class so redundant it felt like a rehash of high school; and one sociology class, which she utterly loathed. By the end of the first day, she was utterly exhausted by the effort to seem sociable when all she wanted to do was curl up at home and read fic. Interacting online was so much easier!
Liv’s phone was out of power by the time she got home, but it began buzzing the moment she plugged it in. She glanced at the screen, brows rising in surprise.
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud GET ONTO THE STARVEIL WIKI NOW, LIV!!!
Liv tossed her bag onto the floor, slumping onto her bed and kicking off her shoes. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she typed in a reply one-handed:
@LivOutLoud: @StarVeilBrian1981 Sure, Brian. Why?
She struggled out of her winter jacket, moving her phone—with its plug tether—from one hand to the other, then briefly getting it caught in her sleeve. By the time she untangled it, another message had appeared. Liv settled back onto the pillows of her bed, reading.
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud There’s a video posted this time! It’s bloody unbelievable! 1/2
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud Do you remember that clip I sent you of the cut scenes from SV 2? THAT WAS IN IT, I’m 99% sure. WATCH IT. WATCH IT NOW!!!!! 2/2
Liv’s grin widened until her cheeks ached. She tapped an answer with shaking fingers.
@LivOutLoud: @StarVeilBrian1981 Looks pretty cool! So are you going to do a manip for it?
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud Are you kidding? I’VE DONE EIGHT OF THEM. Hold on.
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud This one’s my fave.
@LivOutLoud: @StarVeilBrian1981 LOL-that’s awesome, Brian.:D Has @JoesWoes seen it?
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud @JoesWoes Seen it? She’s already started a new #SpartanSurvived fic. She’s using the manip as her fic header.
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes @StarVeilBrian1981 AWESOME!
@StarVeilBrian1981: @LivOutLoud So what are YOU doing for the rebellion?
@LivOutLoud: @StarVeilBrian1981 I’ll think of something. ;)
Liv’s gaze rose to the posters that covered her room’s walls. In one, Spartan posed atop the ruins of Io. In another, he and Tekla stood back-to-back, blasters raised. Yes, she thought, I’ll definitely come up with something. But first, Liv need
ed inspiration.
She grabbed her laptop and turned it on.
* * *
4
“SO SAY WE ALL!”
(BATTLESTAR GALACTICA)
When Liv arrived, Xander was waiting in one of the twin wingback chairs near the front door.
“My imagination is in overdrive,” he said. “Where’s the book?”
“It’s not a book.” She slid into the chair next to him. “It’s a Spartan fic.”
Xander’s nose wrinkled as Liv pulled out her tablet and connected it to the café’s Wi-Fi. She handed it to him.
* * *
Title: Shadow Soul
Author: JoesWoes
Word Count: ~ 6,000 words
Primary Characters: Spartan, Tekla, Malloy
Pairing: SparTek
Rating: NC-17 for sexuality (NSFW)
Warning: Mentions of suicide, death, and war atrocities.
Tags: #SpartanSurvived #SparTek #Malloy #ShadowSoul #Hurt/Comfort #JoesWoesFic
* * *
Xander looked up. “Your friend Joanne wrote this? Does she know about us? The vidding, I mean.”
“Doesn’t know a thing,” Liv said. “She just writes because she’s JoesWoes. She’s been a fic writer since the very first Starveil movie. Joe’s Internet famous.”
“More famous than you are?”
“God yes! Or at least more than my LivOutLoud account for sure. I have my own group of followers, but I don’t write, I vid. There just isn’t the same following for that. Joe has thousands of people who wait for her every post.”
“So she’s one of the grande dames of fandom? The Madame de Staël of the Starveil world?” Xander teased.
“You could say that,” Liv said. “Joe’s been around forever. Everyone follows her. Though if I keep gaining followers with our vids, I think my SpartanSurvived account might give her a run for her money.” Liv poked the tablet. “JoesWoes has more than five hundred Spartan fics.”
“Five hundred,” Xander muttered. “She’s quite prolific.”
“But this one’s different. Joe never writes anything but canon. Never. But in this one she includes your character: Malloy. You’re not actually in the movies, but if you’ve got JoesWoes writing about you, it seems like you are!”
“This feels…” Xander glanced back down. Summary: Leaving the memories of the Fight for Io behind is harder than Spartan had believed. Malloy helps him come to terms with the horror. “Really weird.”
Liv snorted with laughter. “At least it’s not RPF.”
“You’re speaking code, Liv.”
“Real person fic … as in fic about you, Xander Hall, not the character you play.” She broke into choking laughter as his eyes widened into saucers. “Joe’s fic is much tamer. Promise.”
Liv looked over at the counter. Two hipsters with matching beards were arguing over the last muffin in the tray. “You said you wanted to read the story, so read it. I’m gonna go grab myself a—”
“Already got it for you,” Xander said, nudging a cup on the nearby coffee table. “Decaf latté, soy milk, whip on top rather than froth, right?”
“Exactly.”
Liv grinned as Xander sank back into the chair’s cushions, his attention on the screen. She could see part of the text and wondered if he’d stop at some point, suddenly realizing what he’d been dragged into.
Liv took a sip of latté, watching over the rim of the cup. Xander’s lips moved when he read. Not like a little kid, she decided, but as she did when she was fighting to get a particularly difficult After Effects render to work. Liv wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.
Ten minutes passed in silence. Liv emptied her cup as Xander scrolled the story a paragraph at a time. She could follow the progression of the story—one of Joe’s angst-ridden best—by the jump and drop of Xander’s eyebrows. The ending was dark, different from Joe’s usual fare, but Liv loved it more than she could say. It also meant Xander as Malloy had just gone from an unknown actor to a living, breathing character in the Starveil saga. Liv knew Joe’s stamp of approval would bring even more fans over to #SpartanSurvived.
Xander’s brows disappeared into his hairline, and Liv giggled. He’d just reached that part.
He glanced up, catching her staring.
“So this is what you’ve been reading about me, hmmm?”
Liv looked down at her cup, hoping the café was dim enough to hide her flushed face. “Um … yeah.”
“It’s interesting.” He leaned closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But, I can promise I’ve done all of this so far.”
Her eyes jerked back up. “Wh-what?”
“I’m keeping a tally.”
Her face heated up five degrees.
“Oh, Liv, my sweet innocent.” Xander threw back his head and laughed. “You’re blushing, dearest!”
“Am not!”
“Are too.” He smirked. “Not saying I mind or anything, but I feel like you’ve been spying on me en déshabillé.”
“If I’ve been spying on anyone, it’d be Malloy.”
“And how did Malloy measure up to your dear Spartan?”
Now her cheeks were definitely on fire. In fact, her entire face felt like it was in flames. “I have history with Spartan,” she said archly. “But you’re holding your own.”
“Good.” Xander grinned. “Now give me a minute to finish this, shall we?”
Xander resumed reading, and Liv to watching. His teasing had left a residual flicker of awareness that hummed beneath her skin. Whom had she been rooting for when she’d read this fic? It may have been, Liv thought, Xander’s Malloy, not Spartan after all.
“Oh dear,” Xander muttered. He didn’t look up.
He scrolled the fic higher, eyes flickering. Liv’s fingers tightened around the cup, waiting for the moment when he realized Malloy—his character—wasn’t just caught in the battle, he was already dead. She’d read it this morning and had spent twenty minutes fixing her teary mascara because of it. Hurt-comfort fic was her favorite. Somehow imagining Xander as Malloy made it more poignant.
Liv took another sip, watching Xander unawares. He was glued to the screen, eyes scanning. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and Liv wondered if he was reading the final scenes.
Xander looked up so quickly it startled her. He was breathing fast, his cheeks utterly white except for two bright dots of color.
“Holy shit,” he said with a nervous laugh. His gaze skittered to the screen and back up. “She—She killed me.”
“Not you, exactly. She killed Malloy.”
“Yeah, but…” He ran his fingers through his hair. Tufts of it stood on end, so different from his usual smooth coiffure. “That’s a messed-up fic, Liv. Sheesh! Like watching a horror movie in reverse and finding out it’s actually about you.” He shuddered. “I’m going to have nightmares about that.”
Liv snorted. “Hurt-comfort fic is big in the Starveil fandom. Spartan loses his best friend, but Tekla gets to ease his pain.” She took another sip of her latté. “It’s got over five thousand hits and six hundred kudos already. Joe’s one of the most popular Starveil writers around. And she just made you Spartan’s best friend.”
For a moment, she thought Xander would argue about it or, worse yet, refuse to take his place in the second trailer she was planning. Instead, his face split into a wide grin. With his hair askew, he looked every bit the Rebel leader she’d imagined.
“Five thousand hits?!”
“And that’s only one fic,” Liv said. “There are new stories posted every day on the Spartan Survived tag.” A mischievous smile spread over her lips. “You’re more popular than some of the canon characters.”
“I’m a star!” Xander crowed. “A real one!”
Liv tipped her cup toward him. “I’ll drink to that.”
Xander leaned back, steepling his hands on his chest. With hair rumpled and cravat loose, he looked like an English lord thinking about colonial domination. All he needed was a ship an
d a flag.
“So what’s our next move?” he asked.
“Next, we finish sewing your drinking jacket—”
“Smoking jacket,” Xander corrected.
“—and then I have a little cosplay project of my own.” When Liv’s mother had insisted Liv learn how to mend her own clothes, it had been an embarrassment rather than a lesson in frugality. Today, being a seamstress felt like a secret superpower few people Liv’s age possessed.
“Cosplay?” His eyes skimmed down her body. “Do tell.”
“Not for me. For you!”
“Pity … you’d be a sight. I’ll get you into a costume sometime, you know.”
“Sometime will be sometime later.” She giggled. “This one’s for you.”
“Do tell.”
Liv tapped the tablet’s screen. “If you’re leading the search mission for Spartan, you’re going to need a freighter captain’s uniform. Any dark pants you have will do, but the jacket needs to be handmade.”
“Do you have pictures to work from?”
“Better than that. SpartanGrrl has a pattern she bought at an online auction. She sent me JPEGs last year.” Liv drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. “But are you going to do your part, too?”
Xander smirked. He doubled over in the leather chair, performing a courtly bow, made awkward by the fact he was already sitting.
“At your disposal, madam,” he said in his BBC drawl. “I shall be honored to cut and pin and act as haberdasher, if you’re willing to serve as seamstress.”
“Seems fair.”
Xander grinned. “Don’t say I didn’t help you with any of your homework.”
