Reassignment Denied

Recovered Regulator Field Addendum___ (Unfiled)

Emotional proximity to a subject may result in compromised judgment.

The consequences of failure are far-reaching.

The stability rests on the clarity of our decisions.

When proximity cannot be avoided, reassignment is advised.

(Reassignment request denied.)

Dash raked his fingers through his wild black hair, the weight of his emotions matching the ash that spun in the air.

Each sting of grit snapped him back to reality. Ashton felt like a misstep. He had a mission, but seeing Billy made the past thunder back, relentless and raw. He had learned long ago that love is an illusion, that it weakens judgment. It was the day his best friend, the one he trusted with all his heart, the one he loved the deepest, abandoned him. He could still see the letter on the table, the words 'I had no choice' staring back at him, mocking the moment's finality. The memory left a scar that never healed, shaping him and hardening his heart.

He struggled with it again since Billy’s departure that following morning. For so long, his world had solely been about himself. His past left a gaping hole. One he never thought he needed filled, but now he sought to change that. Meeting Billy had opened something anew. Without thinking, his fingers brushed over a worn leather bracelet around his wrist, stirring memories of what once was. Deep down, he realized he wanted to close that void, yet the fear of vulnerability held him back. Protection clashed with the pull towards what he wanted.

What do I really want?

Connection.

Companionship.

Love— even if he couldn't fully admit it to himself.

And he didn’t know why.

Billy was watchful of Dash. He could tell Dash was fighting something, as was he. He noticed Dash’s hands on his hat, his thumb tapping the brim, eyes vacant, looking out towards the dunes as the moon began its slow ascent—a silver gash trying to slice the tension.

Dash opened his mouth, his thoughts a whirl of doubts. What was he risking by being here? The fear of reopening old wounds. Vulnerability of confronting what he left behind, all swirled beneath the surface. The wind whistled softly, shifting the ash around their feet, a rhythmic sound, like an exhale in the silence.

A crescent of moonlight fell across Dash's hand as it flexed and then relaxed, a lingering hesitation. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "I shouldn't be here," he said finally, voice lower than usual, almost rough. "I should have sent someone else."

The wind hissed across the dunes, swirling grit around their boots. The cold air contrasted sharply with the warm, inviting glow of the diner behind them. Through the windows, the clatter of cutlery and the soft murmur of voices countered the vast, isolating silence of the dunes.

Billy reached across the chasm between them, his hand on Dash’s arm. "Why are you here, Dash? What have I…" His voice trailed off, the rest swallowed by the fears hanging between them.

For a moment, neither spoke. Dash lowered his gaze, shaking his head as if trying to clear conflicting directives. A sigh escaped him. "You have no idea," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I need..." Dash shuddered, unable to fight it any longer. His words hung in the air, unfinished, as the silence throbbed with his unresolved pain.

“What?” Billy asked, as a gust stirred the ash angrily.

Dash stepped closer without realizing it. Each small step forward aligned with a thought. Too close, or not close enough, he couldn't decide. Billy retreated, the building's wall stopping him from backing further. The shrinking distance mirrored the growing tension within. It matched the chaos in his mind.

He's afraid of me, Dash realized, echoing his own fears of crossing lines he shouldn't. His chest tightened. The same pressure. The exact moment where he should have stepped back, and didn’t.

'I need to protect him, whatever it takes.'

Dash's mind raced, amplifying the inner struggle. He had to bring this back around. He had a job to do, trying to make the directive the priority. He put his hat back on, hoping it would help get his emotions into balance. First and foremost, he had to be a Regulator, maintaining distance.

His heart kept breaking the rules.

He blinked hard, drew a deep breath, and squared his shoulders, trying to make himself bigger, braver. “Things are moving in the dark I can’t ignore. The Seat is in charge, not only of myself, but all of its citizens.”

His training surged back. The Regulator, whom Billy met in Bellmore City, stood here again. The Dash who came after was only a shadow, a memory fading fast.

“Mister Sabre, the Seat doesn’t want you going to the Winds.”

Billy’s emotions knotted. Where was the Dash who shared meals, who laughed, who slipped into bed with him? Why this icy mask? Why try to scare him away? His face flushed as he balled his fists, knuckles going white. The scar on his hand shimmered in the wash of the moonlight. As the confusion settled, Billy took a long breath and released the tension in his hands. He loosened his grip, letting his fingers relax, and stepped into the light, feeling the shift within.

"Try stopping me," he shot back, his voice steady but carrying a weight of defiance. “The Seat doesn’t own me, Mister LaMont,” he added, stating his name with disdain, looking into the dark, angry eyes before him. “I have the right to answers– to know the truth.”

Their eyes locked, tension crackling. Dash faltered, realizing too late he had made the wrong move, and now Billy was slipping away. Billy looked away and turned to go. In that instant, Dash’s bravado crumbled.

"Wait," Dash called, reaching out. He turned Billy back, pressing him gently to the wall, their bodies nearly touching. Dash’s hand hovered near Billy’s cheek, then curled away, trembling. Heat radiated from Billy’s skin, contrasting sharply with the coolness of the wall against his back, intensifying the tension between. Sensations sparked a storm of unspoken words. The space between them pulsed with a longing, holding them on the edge of something vast.

“You just left…”

Behind them, the door creaked, its aged wood whispering of countless openings. A growing shadow danced, signaling a presence. Raven stepped out, seeing the tableau before her. Her instincts were right; she needed to protect Billy. She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were only fixed on Dash. With a deliberate slowness, she reached up and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear—a warning without a word. Dash stiffened as if she had pressed a blade to his ribs. Her voice was calm, almost gentle.

“Regulator,” she said, locking eyes with him. “You’re standing too close.”

Dash inhaled sharply as he realized he was. He took a step back.

“We’ll take it from here,” she said, taking Billy by the hand.

Dash regarded her like a predator sizing up a rival. He shut his eyes, fighting for composure. His urge to protect or possess Billy was gutting him. Longing, need, and desire warred inside him. The question haunted him.

Heart or Law?

The cost of either choice loomed.

Heavy and terrifying.

When he opened his eyes, he nodded once, almost a bow. A silent question burned within him. What will it cost to choose?

His heart stuttered.

Dash hesitated, the words taking on a deeper meaning as they left his lips. "To be continued, Mister Sabre," he said quietly, a promise echoing the pledge from when their conversation first started, or ended at his office. It was the phrase he used as a goodbye when he first fought the feelings rising within.

As he spoke, Billy felt the bitter taste of ash, the unease, and potential fallout of this promise. Billy felt heat climb his neck as he watched Dash turn towards the dunes and his waiting vehicle. He didn’t know if it was fear or something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Raven slipped her hand around his arm and steered him toward the door. She already had her hands full with her boys on this mission, but Dash was a wild card she had not anticipated.

Or what to do with.