(Written for a request on tumblr - platonic Elma/Lao – "You're the only one I can trust to do this." I liked this enough to publish elsewhere as a standalone one-shot.

Set immediately after chapter 7, but contains spoilers for the entire game.

My tumblr's green-piggy if you want to see someone marrying Nagi and memeing everything~)

It was past midnight in Noctilum. Their group was resting at the Canopied Nightwood base camp for the night. Lao couldn't get to sleep – hadn't been able to sleep, full stop, for as long as he could remember – and so he had headed out to do some target practice. He didn't know where he was, only that he was pretty far away from their camp, but he couldn't bring himself to care. What was the worst that could happen?

Death?

Ha. Yeah, right.

Energy mist buzzed in the air, a humming of ether that sparkled and glowed. He stretched a hand out and clenched a fist around an orb of light, not surprised when it zipped away from his fingers, like seed balls from a dandelion. Streaks of red pierced the starry sky above. He remembered, suddenly, a legend from when he was young; that each one of the stars was an individual planet, its heart glowing in the cosmos.

Lao now knew otherwise, of course, but it was still a comforting thought.

Sighing, he readied his sniper onto his shoulder and aimed at the spot he had been shooting at for a while now; a tiny burn mark on the cliff opposite him, most likely from an ocean xiphias. There was one crooning on the horizon a good distance away, too far away for it to be disturbed by his activities.

He squeezed the trigger and readied Afterburner-

A bang shattered the silence. Recoil made his boots scuffle against the sand and his shoulder thump in familiar pain. He peered at the spot that he had shot at. Another burn mark to add to the collection.

Footsteps clicked the stones nearby; human ones. Lao whirled around, sniper ready, his grip not relaxing when he realised that it was Elma, of all people, marching towards him.

The stony scowl on her face made something in his heart plummet. For a terrible second he thought: she knows, she knows.

"Lao," she called. A nomad terebra nearby gave a guttural growl as she stormed past, but soon went back to flopping about on the sand.

He said nothing as she stood near him, not close enough to be uncomfortable, but the kind of distance that comrades would give one another.

Much to his surprise, she gave him a small smile. "I thought I'd find you out here." The smile dropped. "You really shouldn't be out here by yourself," she said, frowning. "It's dangerous, Lao."

Man, she never stopped with the lectures. He rubbed his neck. "I know, Elma, I know. I just…"

She crossed her arms when he trailed off, a sudden lump in his throat making all further words impossible to squeeze out. "Actually," she said, raising her head so that they were eye level. She crossed her arms, eyes darting before they rested on him. "It's a good thing we're alone. I need to talk to you about something."

She knew. She knew.

"I-" Elma's hands clenched around her elbows. She took a deep breath in, and a heavier one out. "I may just be paranoid, as usual, but-" She sighed, then shook her head. "-I'll just say it. Lao, I think we have a human traitor within BLADE."

His heart just – froze.

"What?" he rasped out. "Are you – Elma, are you being serious?"

God, he wanted to puke. He clenched his fists around his sniper, squeezing so tight that he could hear the leather squeak. He dug the barrel of his sniper into the sand, so that she wouldn't see his shaking.

"I am," she muttered, "and I know – I know – it's a ridiculous thought. Humankind should be working together." Her eyes roamed over his face. She clenched her teeth and let out an angry hiss. "But – you heard Goetia, back then. They know about the timer on the BLADE Tower – and about mimeosomes." She shook her head, slowly. "How could they know about that if no one told them? How?"

Lao sighed, unable to meet her gaze. You're looking at him, he wanted to yell. Right at him!

He clamped down all thoughts and all emotions. He'd see this through to the end; no matter what.

For his family, he told himself, and for everyone else that never had a chance.

He placed his sniper onto his back and crossed his arms. "…They couldn't," he murmured. "There's no way. We've been on Mira for, what, how long now?"

"About eight months, give or take a few days."

"And they've never been anywhere near NLA. They couldn't know."

Her eyes were fierce. "Unless someone told them."

A long silence. A germivore buzzed nearby. The melancholic crooning of a levitath echoed in the sky.

"Lao, I need a favour."

He glanced up. Elma was frowning, her eyes boring into a spot just left to him.

He nodded.

"Whatever you need, Elma. I'll help."

She smiled, softly. "Thanks, Lao. It's nothing major." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Just… keep an eye out on any team leaders, all right?" She made a thoughtful noise and shook her head. "No, make that everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah. If you see anything suspicious, anything at all…"

He nodded. "Yeah. You'll be the first to know, Elma. You tell me as well, all right?"

"Of course. You're…" Her eyes slid shut. "…You're the only one I can trust to do this, Lao. What with knowing... well." She gave a small sigh. "The truth."

His throat clogged. He knew, so much. That Elma had never been human. That only the rich and connected got onto the White Whale.

That his family never had a hope of living.

"I don't want to report anything to Vandham just yet," Elma murmured. "I'm hoping I'm wrong, and the Ganglion just got lucky. Somehow, someway. But…"

She didn't need to say another word.

"Yeah," he choked out, a horrible pressure on his lungs – on everything – making it impossible for him to say anything else.

A hand rested on Lao's arm; his head jolted up, and he was looking right into Elma's soft eyes. "For what little it's worth," she whispered, "I'm sorry, Lao."

He leaned into her touch, just a little, and suddenly wanted to cry.

"It's okay," he breathed, although it was anything but.

It was a long time before dawn, and longer still until either of them moved.