.

24 hours (is an eternity)

x

x

He takes his first good look of the ragged party when he opens the door to the cabin within the woods; one of Seven's supposed safest retreats. But even 'safe' was only ever a temporary notion. He should know; having been in his line of expertise for so long. One glance at the slumping man and pallor skin and he feels his regrets begin to climb. Damn Seven and the promise of a car he prays is worth this experience.

There was a young woman with them, unnervingly silent as she attempts to hold the mint-haired man on his feet and walk him to the couch. Her face was pale, but the former's face even paler. And then Seven was explaining, and he pays no more mind as he clicks his tongue and sets to work, ignores the peculiar look in her eyes as she backs away and shifts out of sight, ignores everything but her bare presence as her shadow moves back again to hand him a tub of water he needed.

The detoxification process takes up the better part of the night; it required sweat, but the poison was too strong, its properties unknown, the patient choking and weak. A fool's errand, but Vanderwood would be damned if he didn't try since Seven would probably not take it too kindly, and he really wanted that luxurious, pretty, sports car.

When he finally finishes the clock-hand was a little after 3 in the morning. Mint-hair was breathing heavily in his sleep, but he would live, and that was enough. Vanderwood stands, and immediately sees the woman step forward. She must have been watching all this time from afar, he realises, and feels almost sorry for the straight brusqueness he had applied trying to save a life through the night.

"I can't thank you enough." She rasps, and clears her throat, looks at him with so much gratefulness beneath dark circles. Her eyes flash again, the peculiar look back in their depths as she turns down to look at Mint-hair. Something strangely detached that looked like pain and grief, but then the man before them starts to stir, and Vanderwood files that information carefully away as he packs his tools and pulls off his soiled gloves.

"I did what I could. The rest is up to him, or a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mint-hair wheezes, cracking open hazy eyes. A coughing fit cuts him off, and he is instantly shushed. The woman bends before him and takes his hand, and the look that crosses his face as he smiles makes Vanderwood look away, comprehending.

A knock on the door to notify Seven, and then he leaves them to it as he makes his rounds, cleans and sterilises his tools and gloves the best he can with whatever adequate standards the cabin could offer. He returns to the living room to see Mint-hair drift into a restless sleep, his fingers interlaced with hers. Seven was gone; shut himself off to deal with matters of deterring a hacker. He wouldn't know, could aim to care less. But the serious look in the agent's eyes had roused a bit of his interests. As far as he was concerned, Seven was never this focused.

A moment passes, yet he remains unmoving in the shadows. He wonders why, thinks back to that one look and squeeze of hands.

Ah, right.

Movement catches his attention again. Slowly the woman's shoulders slump, and she turns away from the sleeping man. Her mouth parts, and closes soundlessly. She huffs half-heartedly, and looks to the window.

"It's funny how déjà vu can feel so awful." It was a soft mumble, directed to herself, but Vanderwood overhears it all the same. Her jaw clenches as she turns back, replaces the wet cloth on Mint-hair's forehead gently before prying her hand away from his loose grip.

"I'm sorry, V." It was a soft whisper, something sad glinting in her eyes as she leans against the couch and brings her knees together.

Vanderwood was gone even before she turns; to get involved is a bad thing, and he had already been roped in enough.

x

x

He sees her alone when the morning sun rises, sitting by the table and swirling pencil over sheets of paper. Her phone remains closed and put aside, green light blinking but untouched. He pays her no mind at first, passes her by several times from Seven's barricade to the outside for a break or smoke. He spies Mint-hair once on one of his perimeter checks. The latter was in the car, eyes downcast and deep in thought. It would be a wise decision, he thinks, to keep his distance. Vanderwood deftly ignores thinking of the imminent moment when he would have to check on his condition again.

It is only in the late afternoon when he emerges from the kitchen for the nth time did he think to make conversation with her, if only because the silence was killing him and apart from observing Seven there was really nothing else to do.

Closer inspection sees the woman sketching painfully awkward bell-like shapes on the paper. At least, he thought it was. It was rather hard to see upside down.

"Sooo…" He jerks his head towards the sketches. "Those are pretty."

She lifts her head at his voice, pencil stalling. Blinks once in surprise, another time as she swallows.

"I suppose so." Unlike the night before, her voice did not catch nor grate. "Thanks." She smiles at him when he joins her on the couch. Her dark circles had faded, her eyes brighter. Despite himself, Vanderwood eases. At least she seems approachable.

She catches him glancing inconspicuously at her drawings, and with a wider grin, turns the paper towards him. At this angle he sees they are flowers, petals clustered together. Various different shading styles litter the page, trying to capture the right texture of velvet petals and smooth pistil. Not a master craftsman's work, but Vanderwood was never one to know nor follow these things.

"They are anemones." She elaborates, and this time he recognises the glimpse of wistfulness that crosses her face; a gap of a façade. "At least, they should be."

"Close enough. I can tell that they are flowers at least." He shrugs, observes her discreetly before turning his gaze back to the amateur drawings. It does not hit him that his response might have been rude until he hears her huff.

He tenses, but before a stuttered apology can leave his throat she was already batting it away, mouth curling into an amused smile; bearing no ill will nor a bruised ego, and Vanderwood relaxes even as he reddens, retracts the previous statement in his thoughts that she was all but fragile in every sense of word.

"Are anemones all you draw?" It was meant to be an honest starter; to test his boundaries and the extent of their shallow conversation. Her expression falls then, changes into an unconscious grimace, and Vanderwood knows.

"They are a memory." She says softly, eyes distant and looking past the wall.

He leaves it at that.

x

x

Late afternoon comes soon enough, and then the night. Hours after sunset, Vanderwood clearly hopes Seven had some sort of plan soon. He was getting antsy. Staying put at one place for too long did not bode well for him, especially since he had gotten a better idea of what sort of mess the leader of the RFA was embroiled in—the chatroom he entered had told him as much. A cult, an obsessive ex who clearly needed help, and what he suspects was brainwashing. Ironically the news brought him a horrific sense of comfort and amusement; only someone like Seven could get involved in shenanigans of this calibre.

The slight shake of the supposed RFA coordinator's voice is what catches his attention when he exits the guestroom. She was speaking in hush tones, and it isn't until he creeps closer that he could hear her breath hitch. Immediately his senses were on high alert.

Vanderwood remembers seeing her talk with Mint-hair earlier as he left the cabin for a smoke. The sad, almost closed-off demeanour had been evident in her body language even as she comforts the man with determined eyes. Mint-hair himself had not looked too surprised, but there had been a lost, helpless look in his face as he nodded and squeezed the hand that patted his shoulder in solace.

This was clearly not the case now. Vanderwood turns the corner and sees her on the phone. Her shoulders were tense, free hand clawing the hard concrete of the windowsill ledge. He watches, quiet and wary, as her hand makes a fist and nails sink into flesh.

"Why do you always say that?" He hears her say, the same peculiar emotion in her eyes the first night reflected in her voice as she heaves a silent shudder. "Ray, please…"

"Why can't we ever agree on things?" Muffled static from the other end of the line, and the woman stifles a pained hitch of breath. "I'm sorry. Goodbye, Ray."

Her voice, bordering on frustration, finally chokes up as the call ends. Vanderwood watches as she breathes and tries to control her shaking, drops the phone to swipe at her eyes roughly, and feels a mounting headache incoming. He'd seen a similar expression just hours ago, one directed at her.

He was still deciding if he should leave and pretend nothing ever happened when she turns around; and spots him looking. She stiffens, he flounders, and the cabin sinks into awkward silence.

A moment, and then-

"Was that the hacker?" He finally says when the silence drags for too long. It was a distinctive name, and he clearly remembers it from the chat with Seven's phone. An even more skilled hacker than he first thought, he remembers, because even after more than half a day Seven had yet to shake them off.

She shrugs, gives a barely noticeable nod, shrugs again as she presses a hand to her chest to steady her breathing. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but he pretends not to see. Vanderwood sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I take that back. You and Mint-hair have a horribly complicated thing that I have no interest of knowing whatsoever. Least of all whatever that was with the hacker."

"That's fair." She quips back, but they both know it was a weak comeback, the amused smile she gives self-deprecating and hollow.

Another lull of silence, and then Vanderwood sighs again, feeling a stab of pity for the woman before him.

"I'm going to make some tea. Want anything?" He says, hopes she won't ask for something like a listening ear. He was never good at those.

A long-drawn-out sigh from her, and then she flashes him an apologetic look, trembles as she smiles fuller and more sincerely. "If I'm not imposing."

They have tea quietly while watching the window, watch the stars appear and shine in the early twilight hours until the front door creaks open and V steps in.

x

x

There was a steely resolve in Mint-hair's eyes. Vanderwood knows not why, but he has an inkling that their current status quo would not remain so for long. For the past hour the former had holed himself in with Seven, discussing the restoration of the hacked RFA app. Despite his pallid complexion, Mint-hair had been adamant in speaking with the hacker, and now both were conversing in jargon and terms he had to squint to understand.

Three was a crowd is the meagre size of the bedroom, and before long Vanderwood pushes past the doors, takes one more careful look at Mint-hair to make sure he was not overexerting, and leaves to check the perimeter one more time. One could never be too careful.

He had barely taken a few steps before he hears a thud from the other guestroom. Muffled, but loud enough to cause alarm, and when he knocks and flings the door open a hand was already reaching for his taser. It falters however, at the sight of a fallen knickknack and a stifled sob.

"You will be fine." Her eyes widen when she sees him, but the coordinator remains unmoving, hand clutching the phone and moving away from the cabinet. Vanderwood watches, frozen, as tears fall down her cheeks.

She swipes at them hastily, presses her hand over her eyes and turns away, breath heaving as she swallows. The movement snaps him back to focus, and with clumsy motions he bends and picks up the ornament. There were cracks along the wood, splinters on the floor, and when he looks back up he sees her watching it, mouth taut as she winced in apology.

"It won't hurt anymore, I promise, I promise…" Her eyes flick back to the phone in her hands, and then to him again, shakes her head and tries to hide her panic when he raises an eyebrow.

"Ray please…" The name catches his attention just as he reaches up to rub his temples. Vanderwood follows the stains of grief that trickles down her chin, sees the darkness return to her eyes, and clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry." She tries to comfort through the line, but Vanderwood knows, can see she had long ran out of her own emotions to give. "I'm sorry that this is all I can do for you. It's, it's going to be fine. Ray, I-"

"Ms Vanderwood? Hellooo?"

The sudden outburst makes them both flinch. Vanderwood curses, tilts his head back to the doorway. Footsteps thud outside, and he hears the creak of a door.

"Hellooo? Is everything okay?" Seven calls out again, and Vanderwood turns back to see her frozen mid-conversation. Fear flashes across her eyes as she heaves, grip on the phone loosening. Vanderwood swallows, stares at her tear stricken gaze and sees the subtle shaking of her head as she cups her mouth to muffle another choked shudder.

"Is something wrong?" Another voice cuts through the thick silence. Mint-hair.

"No." He speaks before he can think it though. "Just an accident with some utensils. Nothing I can't handle." He punctures each word with a meaningful grit of teeth, keeping his gaze steady on her. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and he responds with an unamused look that has her struggling to understand.

"Madam Vanderwood, clumsy? I never would have guess." Seven again, but his tone was marginally lighter without the presence of a threat.

"Don't make me come in there and taser you, 707." Vanderwood yells back, fixes the coordinator with another meaningful look and eases somewhat when he sees her struggle to wipe the tears on her face. The phone falls from her ear, screen black and silent. When he nudges his head towards it, she merely shook her own, grief and hurt flashing minutely. He does not pry further.

"Is, is she...?" The concern in Mint-hair was so obviously palpable. But his voice only made her shrink further away, expression panicked as she tried to dry silent tears that would not stop falling. Vanderwood throws his handkerchief at her in response.

"Hold your horses, she's fine!" It's a frantic glare he gives her over her confused, deadpan expression as she looks back and forth between him and the piece of cloth, but then he was yelling assurances again, lying to her face as he wills them to go back in, and she has but little choice to take the help he had offered.

When the other door finally clicks shut, the coast finally clear, Vanderwood physically sags in relief. Brown eyes open to glare minutely at the woman before him, huffs when he sees her grip the soiled handkerchief in muted silence.

"I'll wash it for you." She croaks when he makes to take it back, sniffs quietly in embarrassment and refuses to look at him. "I'm fine now, I'll be okay."

"Yeah right. Hey, no matter how you look at it, that's not fine at all!" He yells muffled protests as he follows her to the toilet, watches her soak and clean the cloth and cringes at her cracking emotional state.

But for all his complains there was little he could do, and so frustration and annoyance seeps into his veins as he cleans up the wooden splinters and prepares yet another pot of tea.

"Honestly, all this for a car." He mutters as he nurses his tea, minutes before the door to the bedroom opens and Seven announces news of the chatroom revival.

x

x

He does not see her much at the hospital. Everything had been a blur after the cabin door had burst open; there had been so much blood, three of them had all tried to staunch it, and then his hands had grabbed the wheels of his own grizzled car as he drove to keep up with Seven's, rushing to the hospital coordinates inputted into their GPS systems.

By the time he pulls over a flurry of activity had already taken place; staff assisting and pulling Mint-hair away from blood-soaked leather seating, unconscious and in pain. He winces to think of the excuses Seven would have to make to cleaning services.

The coordinator and Seven had both disappeared, leaving him to deal with the empty car. Any other time he would have grumbled, but the situation was dire enough to warrant him being lenient at least. He is after all, still not heartless.

Mint-hair might die, and Vanderwood dearly hopes for the sake of the RFA and Seven's adherence to their agency jobs, that he does not.

The former was already in emergency operations by the time he parks both cars and enters the private ward. He finds Seven first, sees the renowned CEO Jumin Han in the flesh, before leaving them to their own devices. He will ask for payment soon enough. No sense to dawdle further, but there was the right time for everything. Apparently the hacker had not yet given up despite their faltering mistake.

His steps echo in the cold, sterilised corridors. Another turn towards the direction of the operating bay, and he sees her. She sits, facing the wall with phone held loosely in her hands. Her eyes were distant again, hazy and lost, face a haunted visage. They reflected a tired agent's eyes, and Vanderwood feels some measure of solidarity when he nears, watches her close them to refocus before turning to him; hiding weakness.

There was nothing he could say. So he says nothing at all, stands and watches her unravel before him. It was loss that he has learnt to cope with, but one she has not been exposed to so much so soon. Perhaps that was why he lets her talk at all.

"I feel emotionally compromised." An exasperated huff, and then he sees her features drop, sees her detached mask start to break.

"I know." That was all he could do.

"I'm afraid." She says suddenly, bare edges of exhausted panic as she looks at him with pleading eyes. "There's something wrong. I feel like someone is going to-"

"Hey." He halts her, swallows the lump in his throat that warned him away. "Everything is going to be fine." It's a weak consolation, an even weaker white lie. But she needed to hear this now, and that was all that matters. He would not take responsibility for another breakdown.

"I'm not going to lie, from where I'm at, this RFA thing looks like a really big mess." He pauses, sees her pull herself together as he gathers his own train of thoughts. "I can't promise a happy ending. But I know 707 and that rich CEO are both trying their best to solve this and get the best possible outcome. Now if only 707 puts this much effort for the agency…"

Vanderwood clears his throat, adjusts the back of his suit jacket and resists the urge to mutter a few curses. He could really use a smoke right about now.

"I'm sorry." A shuddery sigh pulls the panic at bay as she palms the phone in her hands. The frown on her face was self-directed. "All this time, I have just been spilling my problems to you when I can't even word them properly to the rest of the RFA."

"Hey, it was fun while it lasted?" Vanderwood shrugs, taps his shoes against the cold white floor and hides his discomfort. He really wasn't good at this. "It's not as if you forced me to listen anyway."

That finally coaxes the semblance of a wan smile on her face, and self-satisfied, he straightens, fixes his gloves and turns to leave, ignoring the curious look she gives. There are few certainties his career offers, and unless it pertains to his job, he never meets the same people twice. After tonight, he is certain he will never see her nor Mint-hair again.

"You will be alright." He says, glances back and sees that she understands. The coordinator dips her head, gratitude swirling, and Vanderwood hopes that things would be as they should.

x

x

He hears about it when news of the explosion in the mountains ripples through the agency later that day.

Vanderwood tastes something sour; and feels something like guilt when he swallows. Nothing but cigarette smoke and wispy ashes.

...

x

A/N.

this fic was always a long time coming because from the start the parallels between vander and mc (both strangers that were unwillingly roped into the Mint Eye fiasco just by association with the RFA organisation) always gives me the need for more gen-content exploring their dynamics.

honestly vanderwood was such a fresh change of pace because hes so different compared to other characters in that hes not the typical "polite and friendly guy" like the rest of the cast are, he really doesn't give two hecks about the RFA drama, and is probably the most relatable in the secret ends. i can respect that. that said his snark and attitude towards things are also so fun to write for amid all this angstfest lolol

also i probably screwed up the timeline somewhere oof- but for clarification, the 4th scene takes place during the call where Unknown persona takes over Ray and the poor boy suffers some triggering stuff

not a lot of flower symbolism in part 1, but lion's tooth is another name for the dandelion flower. though it's a common weed, the very fact that it can thrive almost anywhere makes it symbolise one's own ability to rise above life's challenges and difficulties. it can also refer to the warmth and power of the rising sun.