DPxDC fanfic idea: The Back Roads
Bruce was driving around as his civilian self one late afternoon. The sun was barely setting, though one wouldn't be able to tell with all the smot.
He was planning on surprising his children with a spontaneous pizza party and some good family-friendly competition. He was excited.
Maybe it was because he was checking on the pile of pizza in the back, or maybe he was more tired than usual from his long nights as Batman, but whatever the case was he did not see the boy until he hit him.
Bruce swears the boy appears out of nowhere like a ghost. One moment, there was a long road with nothing but trees and his softy playing radio.
Bruce has always loved the long secluded roads that lead to his Manor. It always gave him peace of mind to enjoy a drive without anything or anyone around. Rarely did he ever encounter another driver out here - not since the Drakes moved out.
That's why someone standing in the middle of the road had come so unexpectedly. Bruce hadn't even noticed him until his headlights saw a brief flash of blue eyes just as it was too late.
The boy slammed against his hood, flying into the windshield and sliding off to the side. There was a terrible gagging sound, likely the boy checking on his blood as slid away to the ground.
Bruce slammed his brakes, sitting frozen behind the steering wheel. For a moment, all he could do was sit there in horror, wondering if it was true. Then reality crashes in, and he pushes the car door open, falling out in hysteria.
There on the ground is a boy that could be fourteen crumbled. A boy with dark black hair and - if the wide eye stare before the hit was any indication - blue eyes. He looks a lot like his sons.
Bruce feels sick.
Desperately, he rings up an ambulance, chocking on tears as he tells the dispatcher what happened. Bruce, meanwhile, does his best to check the boy over with his training.
He slowly turns him over, pressing his fingers on the neck as gentle as possible. There is a cold moment before he feels a aodt flutter against hia finger tips.
A heart beat but one that was slowing by the second.
Bruce tells the dispatcher this, who in turns tells him as soothing as possible that help is on the way, but Bruce knows the boy doesn't have enough time.
With shaking fingers, he presses the Bat Distress signal. His children are only ten minutes away in vehicles that can get to the hospital in thirty minutes. The ambulance will arrive in that same amount of time.
"It's going to be okay" He tells the still boy. "You're going to be okay. Please. Please. Be okay"
Nightwing pulls up then in the Batmobile with Robin in the passage seat. Red Robin, Spoiler and Red Hood are not far behind on thier bikes.
They all stop for a few seconds, unsure what to do, before Nightwing shakes himself out of it. "Mr. Wayne we got it from here"
Bruce is only half aware of Damian taking his hand and moving him away as Tim and Dick get the boy into the Batmobile. They speed away to the hospital.
What a terrible night for Alfred to be out.
Later, the cops speak to Bruce and use the dash cam to confirm that the boy really did appear out of nowhere. He's a meta, they say. Likely one that just got his powers.
Teleportation. Or Invisibility.
They weren't sure, but they would figure it out. They told Bruce he was free to go, and there was no need for Bruce Wayne to know further of the case.
Batman, however, was back there that night. He was outraged to find out the boy had been flagged for his meta genes, and some nurse low on cash knew there was a market for meta children.
She was attempting to move the unconscious youth through false discharge papers when Bruce landed on the hood of the car of her associates. They were quickly dealt with, turned over to the police-the good ones- and Batman had made arrangements for the boy to be taken in by Bruce Wayne himself until he awoke.
While that was happening, the attempts to locate the youth's family yielded results. He wasn't in the system himself, but he did match to a brother that was.
A week later, Danny Fenton opens his eyes from the best nap he's had in years, only to find out he was run over while in a ghost version of hibernation and in a different world.
Oh, and apparently, he is being confused as a twin brother of some guy named Tim Drake.
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white flag ✹ ch 3
note: (・ω・)
pairing: ghost x gn!reader
wc: 3.5k
no use of y/n
reader's callsign is 'stingray'
summary: the 141 goes on your first mission since the fire, and you're forced to face your fear head on. when you fall short and ghost has to save you, your already fragile relationship seems to fall apart at the seams.
warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, pyrophobia, panic attacks, hurt/minimal comfort, argruments, ghost is mean again, reader has a little breakdown
ao3
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you can do this.
you can do this.
the mantra plays on repeat in your head as you stare holes into the opposite wall of the helo. you can do this, despite the objective being to demolish an enemy facility, which almost certainly meant that there would be fire, which you were certainly not afraid of.
you had to do this because nobody knew, and they couldn't find out. what kind of soldier is afraid of fire? considering all the things you've done, it should be trivial; you've stared down the barrel of a gun more times than you can remember, had a knife to your throat the same amount, and yet the simple thought of being near a fire has your heart beating out of control.
ghost's figure passing in front of you snaps you out of your thoughts, illuminated by the red lights as he stops at the edge of the ramp. the night behind him is foreboding, no stars to be seen and the wind cold against your skin as it rushes into the back of the helo.
"bravo team," his gruff voice cuts through the noise of the wind and the blades, "let's move."
you look across to where soap sits, exchanging a brief nod before you both stand and dutifully follow after your lieutenant. clutching your rifle to your chest with one hand, you use the other to lower the night-vision goggles over your eyes, casting an uneasy green glow over the environment. you keep yourself low as you follow after ghost and soap, making your way quickly to the cover of the treeline.
the facility you were here to demolish was between the three of you and the site gaz and the captain had landed at. the plan was to sweep from opposite sides of the building, planting charges as you go and regrouping in the middle – preferably with minimal enemy interference, but you were expecting them to put up a fight.
ideally, you could be out of the building and far enough away before the charges go off, and your phobia wouldn't be an issue; but that's only if luck was on your side, and lately it's been feeling like it's decidedly not.
your rifle is wedged into the crook of your shoulder as you follow behind soap, listening intently for any signs of movement other than the three of you. goosebumps prickle at your skin even under the many layers of your gear – caused by the temperature or your nerves, you're not sure.
ghost raises his hand in a gesture for you to stop, crouching just before the break in the trees. you follow suit and so does soap, gazing up at the building looming in front of you, a dark shadow against the night sky.
"bravo's in position," ghost says, keeping his voice low, "waitin' on you, alpha."
the radio stays silent. you roll your shoulders to release some of the tension, but you only breath a small sigh of relief when you hear price's voice cut through the static a moment later.
"solid copy," the captain responds, "had some company, let's get this done before they find the bodies."
"affirm. out here." ghost's monotone reply ends the correspondence, and he gestures once more to continue. you make sure to stay low and keep your head on swivel as the three of you creep closer to the large warehouse.
thankfully, you don't run into much trouble as you make your way inside; there's a few stragglers around the perimeter, but they're expertly dispatched with very little commotion.
your entrance is a lone side door, pried open as quietly as possible for the three of you to rush into. you make sure there aren't any hostiles waiting in the shadows before you head towards the support pillars along the centre of the room.
you secure the explosive to the base of the pillar, listening for the faint beep as you arm it, and stand back up to watch as ghost and soap do the same. with the first three charges set, ghost nods at the two of you, a silent affirmation to keep moving forward.
you fall into place behind soap again, the barely-there crunch of gravel under your boots is the only sound as you weave through the warehouse.
passing through another doorway into a smaller room, you fall into place next to ghost as soap takes his other side, the three of you beelining for the load-bearing wall to the north.
you arm the final set of charges with precision, turning to ghost and nodding at his signal to push forward again. the next room was where you'd regroup with gaz and price before heading to the exfil site.
as you're about to round the corner after them, you hear a noise from behind, the way you'd come in. you turn on your heel and raise your gun to look through the sights at where the sound came from, but you don't see any movement as you scan the area.
an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, but you don't get to voice your concerns to the others before you're thrown to the ground but the force of an explosion.
you're momentarily blinded by your night vision goggles when you pry your eyes open, the heat from the fire washing over you as you push yourself up and stumble backwards a few steps. shoving the goggles away from your eyes, you blink the disorientation away and whip your head around, searching for your teammates.
you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when you find them brushing themselves off and mostly unharmed; ghost and soap were helping each other up, and gaz was running towards you from the other end of the room while price fired at an unknown threat beyond where you could see.
the panic only sets in when you realise that they're on one side of the fire, and you're alone on the other.
"you've gotta jump through!" gaz shouts to you, his concerned face just about visible through the licks of orange flames between you.
your chest is tight, simply drawing a breath feels like wading through white water, and all of a sudden you're back in your room with black smoke filling your lungs.
"for fucks sake, sting!" a gruff shout echoes around you, but your mind is too foggy to register the words.
the heat on your face is far too much, the sound of your teammates shouting and the blood in your ears, the flickering light if the fire, its all
too
much.
even as you stumble backwards and fall on your arse your gaze is transfixed on the blaze in front of you, it feels impossible to tear your eyes away.
as you feel yourself completely succumbing to your panic, a dark figure cuts through the wall of flame and comes barrelling towards you, his features indistinguishable from the shadows at the corners of your eyes.
you feel him grab the strap on the back of your vest, and he roughly pulls you up to stand on your feet. the stark white of the skull mask fills your vision, tearing your focus away from the flames.
"get up, sergeant!" he growls, and in the back of your mind you register that it's ghost grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. "move!"
his hand goes to the strap again and before you can protest he's pulling you along with him, shielding you from the fire as he shoves you through to the other side.
the sprint back to the helo is a misty blur; one moment you're being dragged along with a knife shoved into your hand, the next you're leaning back against the metal siding and kyle is holding an oxygen mask to your face with an upsettingly worried expression.
you want to cry, but the tears don't come no matter how much you will them to.
ghost doesn't even look at you. he passes by where you're slumped next to gaz, heading straight to the cockpit without so much as a glance. your heart sinks to your stomach as you watch him go, knowing any attempt to talk to him would be futile.
the flight home is unbearably quiet, aside from the sound of the engines and your laboured breathing. eventually the tension leaves your shoulders and you're left with a bone-deep exhaustion that you know you'll be feeling for days after this is done.
when you finally land, ghost is the first down the ramp, again without a hint of acknowledgement to the rest of you. soap jogs to catch up with him as you follow them out, keeping his voice low as he tries to reason with the lieutenant.
they stop a little ways down the runway, and you take the opportunity to catch up to him. johnny shoots you an apprehensive look as you draw a deep, shaky breath, but before you can get a single word out, ghost whips around to face you.
"what the fuck was that!?" he spits, meeting your eyes with a glare so frantically venomous it sends a twinge of pain through your heart.
"i– i'm sorry, i don't know wh–" you sputter, desperate to explain yourself, but he cuts you off.
"i don't want excuses, sergeant!" he growls, gesturing angrily with his arms as he takes a step closer to you. "you can't just freeze like that in the field!"
"plea–"
"why?!" he's shouting at you now, invading your personal space. "what the fuck happened out there?!" he gets closer again, and all you can see is pure emotion in his eyes, something so raw you can't name it. "you could've died, for fucks sake! we all could've died!"
"ghost, c'mon…" soap places a gentle hand on his shoulder, an attempt to calm him that goes entirely unnoticed as ghost brushes him off. you try to take a step back and put some space between you, but he follows to stay uncomfortably close.
"what then, eh? what if i hadn't been there to come to the rescue?!" he's so close you can feel the heat radiating from him, see the reflection of your distraught expression in his dark eyes. "i can't babysit you every time we go on a mission, sergeant!"
…babysit? is that really what he thought of you?
the words feel like a knife in your chest.
he glowers at you with such intensity you have to squeeze you eyes shut to escape it – and as a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of tears threatening to spill over.
a heavy silence falls over you, more tense than you've ever felt it.
he stares at you, looking straight past you and into your soul, his eyes so intense it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. over ghost's shoulder, you see price stalking towards the two of you, a stern look creasing his face.
"simon, that's enough!" price commands, grabbing his elbow and pulling him roughly away from you.
now that you have room to breathe, you allow your eyes fall to your boots, but it's no use, the tears have already started rolling down your cheeks. you cover your face with a hand and brush past ghost and the captain,
"sting–" gaz calls out to you as you march into the building, but you can't face any of them right now – you need to be alone, there's too many eyes on you, it makes your skin crawl.
they know now.
they know you're afraid of fire, there's no way price won't bench you after this. you nearly jeopardised the entire mission – in fact, if it hadn't been for ghost, you probably wouldn't have made it out in one piece.
there's no way he would ever forgive you for such a monumental fuck up.
your vision is foggy through the tears, but the urge to get away is all you need as you push through door after door. you do your best to ignore the stares the other soldiers give you when you rush past them.
their eyes follow you as you go, you feel them burning into your skin, and it only serves to make you feel even worse about the whole ordeal. it was only a matter of time until what happened reaches the rumour mill, and you're not sure you'd be able to stop yourself if one of them decides to bring it up to you.
there has to be somewhere you can go where they won't find you, somewhere you can escape.
in your haste to get away, you end up following wherever your subconscious leads you. you come back to your senses outside again, on the turf behind one of the many buildings on base.
your legs give out and you collapse into the grass, knocking your head against the wall with how hard you throw yourself down. sobs wrack your body as you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, a desperate attempt to block out the world around you that only leaves your vision scattered.
you fucked up – badly. you're not sure how you're going to recover from the utter humiliation of it all.
if ghost hated you before, you were certain he loathed you now.
to him, this was just another entry on the long list of your mistakes. but to you, not only were you a failure of a soldier, you'd also managed to ruin whatever progress you'd made with getting him to trust you. you don't think you've ever heard ghost so pissed. sure, he's yelled at you before, but to experience such unfiltered anger, it came as a shock to you, as well as the others it seemed.
the sound of footsteps from your right prompts you to hide your face in your hands again. whoever it is, you don't want them to see you like this.
"sting," price's voice calls out to you, as soft as the captain can manage. a small part of you is disappointed it wasn't ghost, coming to apologise, but you know that would never happen. he said it himself, he has no desire to babysit you.
that's all you were to him; a burden, thrust upon him against his wishes, someone he was obligated to look after despite how much of a chore it was.
you just wish you hadn't been so naively optimistic as to assume that he would ever come around to you. that he would ever change.
your spiralling thoughts only make the tears fall even harder. price approaches, you hear rustle of fabric as he sits himself next to you.
a heavy arm rests over your shoulders, the weight of it comforting in an odd way. "it's alright, you're alright." price murmurs.
a moment passes before you lift your head, watching him from the corner of your eye.
"i'm sorry…" your voice is strained, hoarse from the tears and your exhaustion.
he shakes his head. "no need to apologise." he responds, giving your shoulder an affirming pat. you sniffle, fixing him with a questioning look.
"but… i fucked up," you reply, your confusion obvious; you'd expected him to be pissed like ghost, his nonchalance was certainly unexpected. "and we almost died because of me…"
"but we didn't," with the arm around your shoulders he gives you a gentle shake, "the mission was a success, wasn't it?"
"i… yeah?"
"then you got nothin' to be sorry for, have you? people get hurt, that's par for the course, sting." he moves his hand to ruffle your hair, giving you a reassuring smile. "so you can stop with the waterworks an'all,"
you huff, a half-hearted attempt at a laugh, and wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your jacket.
"come on mate, let's get you checked out, yeah?" price stands, grabbing one of your arms and pulling you up with him.
you don't talk on the way to the infirmary, trailing behind him feeling wholly like a child having been scolded. you felt pathetic, and you're glad you have the captain's massive frame to hide yourself behind.
one step through the doors and you're bombarded by the smell of antiseptics and artificial air freshener. the nurse greets you, her placid voice and the gentle hand that guides you to one of the many beds causing your muscles to go rigid.
the captain stands with you, arms crossed over his chest and out of the way of the nurse as she checks you over and runs various checks. you do your best to stay calm, but the cold, clinical environment has a distressing effect on you.
the door opens and shuts behind you. the warning look on price's face tells you exactly who came in. the thick tension is back in the air in an instant
"you–" ghost begins, but you interrupt before he can get another word out.
"i know. i fucking get it, alright?" you snap, rubbing your already bloodshot eyes in exasperation. "you don't have to keep goin' on." your voice gets weaker, a betrayal of how you really feel about his outburst.
heartache.
"i just…" ghost goes to speak again, but price shakes his head at him in a wordless exchange.
he doesn't try again. the door swings open and shut again with his exit.
somehow, your heart aches even more.
the nurse clears you with no major injuries, just scrapes and bruises – nothing you weren't used to. some of your gear was a little singed from the fire, but you'd managed to escape without any burns.
it appeared lady luck had a sense of humour.
you still don't say a word as price leads the way to his office. there's a few people milling around in the corridors, their eyes on you feeling like needles in your skin. you keep your head down and try not to think about the talk you're about to have.
you hear laughter, and lift your head to see that there's a group of three recruits standing against the wall up ahead. the one who appears to be the ringleader watches you approach, snickering with his buddies in a way that has your eyes narrowing. you can tell he's up to something even before he moves, sharing a look with his friends.
has has a lighter in his hand. he waits until you're right in front of him before he ignites it and shoves it in your face, laughing obnoxiously when you flinch away from the gesture.
"ooh, scared, are ya?" his voice is high pitched and infuriatingly mocking. you slap his hand holding the lighter out of your face, and the two recruits behind him laugh at you as well, nudging each other like they're funny.
it makes your blood boil.
the condescending looks, the way they clearly think they're above you, the highschool bully attitude – you just see red.
grabbing him harshly by the front of his jacket, you shove him up against the wall with such aggression it shakes the picture frames.
"shut up–" you seethe, allowing every ounce of pent up frustration and anger and desperation to bleed into your voice, "shut the fuck up!" you pull him back and slam him back into the wall. you find a great deal of satisfaction in the sound his head makes when it collides with the wall.
his friends have stopped laughing, in fact you can't hear anything except the blood rushing in your ears as you repeatedly hit his head against the brick, over and over again.
too much,
it's all too. much.
you're yanked away from him, but your eyes stay locked on the way he clutches the back of his head and shuffles back from you like a dog with its tail between its legs.
it was almost cathartic, you would've smiled, if not for price turning you to face him with a hand on your shoulder. you blink back to your senses, but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad. he had it coming.
"my office. now." his face is hard as he addresses you, looking to the recruits with a similarly displeased look. "and i'll be back for you."
by the hand on your shoulder you're guided away from the wide-eyed recruits, your head still feeling light with the anger the recruit evoked from you.
you're not used to feeling so helpless; the whole situation is frustrating enough, but the feeling of not being able to do anything just makes it all the more infuriating.
you shouldn't have lashed out like that, but it's all been building to a point and it was bound to blow up in your face sooner or later. the last couple of weeks, your struggles with ghost and the fact that you'd fucked it all up again, the general stress of the job – you should've seen this coming, really.
it feels like you're all the way back at square one, and you don't have it in you to try anymore.
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