Wounds
Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader x Jeremy Dooley
Word Count: 5,338
Prompt: We all know Los Santos’ most feared assassins, but what if you were their target? And the first words out of their mouths were the same words imprinted on your skin?
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of torture.
Breathe, for fuck’s sake, just breathe, you told yourself, keeping your head down as you walked towards your usual lunch spot. Your lips were stuck in a grimace, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, and you couldn’t keep from internally cursing at yourself. Way to go, (y/n), not even fucking noon and you’re already spiraling, god dammit.
Between your alarm not going off, your boss berating you for your recent work performance, and the empty threats your ex continued to text you from different numbers, it seemed like nothing was in your favor. So, with the whole universe against you, you resorted to blocking it out; pulling your phone out of your pocket, you turned up the music in your earbuds so you couldn’t hear the tourists that swarmed the sidewalks, or the drivers shouting obscenities as they blared their horns.
You just needed a break, needed something to go well. The playlist you were listening to helped slightly, and you knew once you had some food in your system you’d feel better, but you were honestly feeling pretty hopeless. Getting through work would be hard enough, and the idea of going home to your roommate and their boyfriend made you sick. With a sigh, you turned down the alley you always cut through, the usual lack of other people comforting.
Though it was a faster route, your bigger reason for using the shortcut was the excuse to get away from the crowds that plagued Los Santos. Living in a city where you’re constantly surrounded by people grew tiring, and you could only relax when you felt alone. If that was in a dirty alley, so be it.
Your pace slowed as you continued, and with no one around, the tears began to spill over. Fucking hell, just, take a breath, you urged the tears to stop, trying to maintain composure. You’ll get something to eat, then you’ll get through five hours of works, and you’ll be—
You were dragged out of your thoughts and back into reality by the gloved hand that suddenly covered your mouth, pulling you back against a solid figure. Music was still blaring in your ears, and you weren’t even able to fully process what was happening before it was too late to do anything. It wasn’t until a needle sunk into the flesh of your bicep that you began to scream, fighting to escape your attacker’s grip.
Wrapping an arm around your torso so tight you could hardly breathe, he quickly contained your movements. “Shh, there’s no point, no one’s listening,” a voice rumbled in your ear, and even as your mind started to fog, you immediately recognized those words. They rendered you immobile, the same words that tingled on your skin, scrawled across your hip.
Fuck.
“There we go,” he murmured, tossing the syringe to the ground before his arm moved to wrap around your throat, “wasn’t that easy?” With both the drug in your system and your restricted airflow working against you, you could barely struggle, weakly pulling at the arm around your throat. If you could just say something, he would know, he would hopefully stop, but all that escaped your lips were choked cries.
When your efforts had died down, and you grew limp in his arms, he easily tossed you over his shoulder. Everything was foggy, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could barely even think. You just watched the ground move below you as the man walked, unable to focus your vision on anything.
“J, pop the trunk,” the man called, and you winced at the sound of his hand hitting the car. Within seconds, you were dropped into the trunk, your head hitting hard, and you barely caught a glimpse of a skull mask before the lid was slammed down.
In the the darkness, with your mind in a haze, you couldn't even tell when the world faded to nothing.
When you awoke, you found yourself in an empty warehouse, only lit by the few barely functioning lights that hung above you. Your head was pounding, the pain dizzying, and the gag in your mouth only made the nausea worse.
Your limbs were tied to a rusted chair, the coarse rope cutting into your skin as you pulled at your restraints. Behind you, you could hear noises, the sounds of metal hitting metal ringing through the warehouse, and you only struggled harder, eyes watering as fear sent your heart racing.
“Well Ry, I think she’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice murmured, and you felt a sting along the skin of your thigh, the words imprinted on your flesh almost burning.
“Shall we begin?” the voice from before asked, and you felt a hand brush your shoulder as he walked in front of you, sending a shiver through your frame. Finally getting a look at his face, you found your eyes drawn to the smudged facepaint that covered his skin, making his smile all the more menacing.
You struggled to speak, to say anything at all, but the cloth in your mouth muffled every sound. Your attempted words turned to shrieks, the jagged dagger in his hand finally catching your eye; and when a man in purple walked into your sight, crowbar in his gloved hands, tears began to spill over.
You couldn’t believe, out of all the possible people ways to meet a soulmate, this would be it. They were fucking terrifying, had your heart racing and tears streaming down your face, your whole body trembling. You knew that what they had in store for you would break you, probably kill you; but there was still that instinctive longing for them, for your soulmates, and you cursed yourself for it.
“Listen,” the man in purple spoke, swinging the crowbar around as he watched you, “Before we get started, I want you to know this is purely business. An old pal of yours paid good money for our services, some guy named… Damon?” he glanced over at his partner for confirmation.
“I believe it was Devon.”
Your heart sunk at the mention of your ex and you began screaming muffled pleas, much to the amusement of the two men. They both shared a glance before the shorter one moved forward, dragging his crowbar against the concrete as he sauntered around you. “Y’know, this Devon had some very specific instructions, I mean, really, what do ya gotta do to a guy to make him that angry?”
After making a full circle around you, he raised his crowbar in with a smile, and then a crack echoed through the warehouse as it made impact with your shin. You were seeing stars as the pain hit, your shrieks of pain muted by the cloth that swallowed the sound, and they both laughed.
“Ooh, that looked nasty, Jeremy,” the taller man commented, a smirk on his lips as he watched you twist and writhe in pain. You pulled even harder at the rope restraining your limbs, crying out as your struggles only caused you further pain. “Sweetheart…,” he chastised you, moving closer, dagger glinting in the dim light, “you really don’t wanna do that.”
Then, he was on top of you, legs straddling your thighs as he held the blade against your cheek. Instinctively, you pulled your face away from the jagged edge, but then a calloused hand gripped your chin, jerking your head to face him. His ice blue eyes were daring you to move again, and you didn’t, small whimpers escaping your throat as he traced the dagger along your jawline.
“Such a pretty face…,” he murmured, his hand holding your jaw still as he dragged the dagger down to your collarbone, still not breaking skin. “It’s a real shame he wants us to carve you up… but a job’s a job, and playing butcher is always fun.” He bared his teeth with a smile as he pushed the blade a little deeper, and your blood began to seep over the jagged edge.
“Aw, Ryan, come on,” the man behind him spoke over your sobs, “save some of the fun for me.”
He stood from your lap, gesturing to your pathetic form as he replied, “Give ‘em your worst, Dooley.”
The other man threw his crowbar to the side with a grin, cracking his knuckles as he walked towards you ever so casually. “I work better with my hands anyways,” he commented, quickly landing a blow to the side of your face. The punch knocked your head around, and you were seeing stars as you tried to get past the ringing in your ears. There were words thrown your way, but they all felt distant, muffled, and the world was spinning around you as your eyes glazed over.
With a few taps against your cheek, the man calmly said, “Hey, stay with me. We’re not done with you yet.” However, when you didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t try to speak any muffled words, he kicked your broken shin with a growl, causing you to shriek and writhe in pain. “You can’t escape this,” he murmured, his hand on the back of your chair, leaning it back as he loomed over you. “This is it, end of the line.”
He suddenly landed a punch to your stomach, shoving the chair to the ground, and you let out a groan. Every sensation coursing through you was overwhelming, all the pain, the shock, the fear. Everything hurt, and yet, even as your head lay against the cold, dirty concrete, and you stared up into the dingy light, you still struggled to escape. Even with your mind unable to process anything that was happening, your most basic instinct was fighting. If you could just say something, you’d get through this alive, and that was enough of a chance to keep you struggling.
“Now, I’m not sure, but I think (y/n) is trying to tell us something,” Ryan remarked as you continued to shriek, muffled pleas bleeding into sobs that shook your whole frame. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked with a kick to your ribs, causing your plead to grow even louder. “You’ve really gotta speak up.”
He gripped your throat, pulling both you and the brittle chair up to his height. With a quick slash, his dagger cut through the cloth gag, tossing it to the ground below. Chest heaving, you gasped for breath, arms tugging at the restraints as you tried to reach the hand wrapped around your neck.
You struggled to talk, barely formed consonants escaping your lips, but nothing that came even close to speech. “Here, let me help you,” the man seemed to mock you, setting you back down on the concrete floor. However, when you opened your mouth again, his blue eyes stared daggers, choking every word within you.
“So shy now?” Jeremy asked, and the two of them shared a glance, amused grin pulling at the corners of their mouths.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can change that.”
He grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards, stretching your tendons and exposing the skin of your neck to his blade. You trembled as the cool, wet metal dragged across your skin, stifled sobs trapped in your throat. He traced the jagged edge slowly, ever so slowly over your skin, and then your clothing as it passed your shoulder. In an instant, the blade pushed through your shirt to your bicep, barely breaking skin, but he drove it deeper and deeper at a crawling pace.
This drew broken screams from your lips, and when he shifted the blade slightly in your flesh, your vision began to spin, the contents of your stomach working their way up your throat. Despite your best efforts to swallow it back, your mouth had gone dry, the bile pushing its way up and dribbling down your chin.
“Ooh, yikes,” Jeremy commented from behind you, watching with amusement as you still struggled against the ropes. “I don’t know, Ryan… maybe we should just put her out of her misery.”
There was a pause before the two laughed, and Ryan yanked the dagger from your flesh, ripping a ragged sob from your lungs with it. Pushing through the excruciating pain that coursed through every nerve in your body, and the fear that paralyzed your mind, you cried out, “Please, don’t do this, I— I can’t, please.”
They stopped dead in their tracks, the blood-soaked knife slipping from Ryan’s fingers, and the metallic clatter echoed through the warehouse as it hit the ground. It was silent as they stared at you, their eyes wide and calculating as they processed everything. It didn’t take long for them to snap back into action though, Ryan picking up the dagger and rushing to cut the rope that restrained you. Meanwhile, Jeremy had pulled out his phone, restlessly murmuring, “Come on, pick up… pick up.”
Muttering under his breath, Ryan violently slashed at the rope around your ankles, but even in anger he was precise. Not once did his blade hit you again. When he moved to the rope tying your wrists to the chair, he cut through the worn cord with ease, ready to catch you the moment you fell forward. Your vision was still spinning, sounds fading in and out as you blinked, trying to get a grasp on what was happening.
“Andy, we need you at the warehouse, like,right now… shattered shin, stab wound— no, no arteries were hit… I know, I know… listen, I don’t give a shit what the chances are, you need to get down here right the fuck now,” Jeremy glanced over at you, a shaky breath leaving him as he did. “We can’t lose this one.”
With that, he pocketed his phone, stripping off his purple jacket as he moved to your side. “Hey…” you saw his lips continue to move, but the words faded into background noise. With the world spinning and fading around you, there was no way you could focus, no possible way you could process anything that was happening; and you would have tumbled to the ground if not for the two men holding you.
“Hey, stay with us,” Ryan spoke firmly, cupping your cheek as Jeremy pressed his jacket against your wound. You locked your gaze on his blue eyes, the rest of the world blurring as you tried to maintain any focus; then, it all faded to darkness, and you felt nothing.
When your eyes blinked open, the first thing you noticed was how warm the room was. Not only in heat, but the colors, the light, it was all much softer than everything you had just been through. There was no more pain coursing through your system, only a numbness, almost a floating sensation. Glancing around, you saw what, aside from the medical equipment, appeared to be a normal bedroom; and in the chairs beside your bed sat a woman with red hair and a man in a full tuxedo, the two conversing quietly.
The woman glanced up, meeting your eyes before glancing back to the man. He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands down his face with a sigh before looking at you. “Hey kid, how you holdin’ up?” he asked softly, and in your haze, it was difficult to process his question, let alone respond. He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes tired, and then continued, “Before we start talking, I want you to know that you are 100% safe here. No wrong answers, no danger… nothin’ is gonna hurt you, alright?”
You nodded, barely able to move, and the two exchanged a glance before the redhead began to speak. “First, I just want to tell you how sorry I am for all of this, this lifestyle, it’s— it’s incredibly dangerous, and the fact that fate dragged you into all this, it… sucks. I don’t know how else to put it.”
Though your mind was hazy, you were beginning to piece things together; their vaguely familiar faces, the way the spoke, along with the memories you were already trying to repress, they all pointed towards one thing: the Fake AH Crew. You could faintly recall various newscasts, wanted posters, and you most definitely remembered seeing their faces multiple times.
Your heart began to race again, but the increasingly frantic beep of your heart monitor didn’t seem to faze them, they simply sat there, slowly raising their hands to prove they weren’t armed. “I might be Los Santos’ most wanted,” the man started, making sure to meet your eyes, “but a promise is a promise, and as long as I’m here, no one’s gonna lay a finger on you.”
You glanced at the woman, whose eyes were warm and sincere, then back to the man, who gave you a small smile. Letting out the breath you’d been holding, your muscles untensed. Though your heart was still pounding, the beeps began to slow, and they brought their arms back down. “The way Geoff and I see it, there’s two ways we can go here,” the redhead continued, “and we want to run you through every option before you decide what you want. You with us so far?”
You nodded slightly, afraid to move anymore than that in case it aggravated one of wounds that littered your body, and she gave you a soft smile. “If we end up going too fast, just let us know, okay?”
“As I think Jack mentioned, this all depends on what you want. Our resources are virtually unlimited, and we just want what’s best for you, so don’t feel pressure towards any particular choice.” Geoff told you, his voice taking on a slightly more professional tone. “The first option we could see is taking you to Mount Zonah Medical Center to continue your treatment. Their doctors may not be as well trained as our personal medic, but they’re the best in the city, and we’d pay for top treatment.”
“We’ve found a nice apartment for you to go to once you’re ready to return home, in a much safer neighborhood than your current place,” Jack continued as Geoff pulled out his ringing phone. “We’d cover the rent, so don’t worry about that, and we’ll make sure that no one comes after you again.”
Geoff whispered something to her before standing to his feet, shooting an apologetic glance you way before he left the room. Jack gave you a reassuring smile in response before picking up where she’d left off. “You should also know that the man who’s been threatening you, Devon,” you shuddered, and she carefully reached out to place a hand on your arm. “He’s been taken care of, and he will never hurt you again.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath, and she patted your arm a few times before pulling back. “The other option assumes that you would still want to be with your soulmates.” She paused, seeing how you visibly tensed. “Do you want me to go on? Because it’s completely understandable if you don’t want anything to do with them after what you’ve been through.”
You shook your head quickly, your voice quiet as you replied, “Tell me.”
“Right now, we’re in the penthouse, Geoff’s expansive ‘apartment.’ This is where the entire crew stays,” she gave you a sympathetic smile before continuing, “and that includes Ryan and Jeremy.”
Hearing those names brought you back to the warehouse, the names your torturers had spoken once or twice as they put you through hell. The pain throughout your body sharpened in response to the memories, your heart racing at the thoughts; but as you continued to lose yourself in memory, you were brought back to their first words, the words scrawled across your skin. With a shaky breath, you asked, “They’re… they’re my soulmates, right?”
She nodded, noting how your heart rate sped up. “You could stay here, with us, and not only would you have the best medical care, but you’d be safer here than anywhere else… It’s perfectly understandable if you can’t see yourself doing that, and either way, we’ll pay for all your treatment, physical and psychiatric.”
Your brows furrowed as you struggled to process all the information that’d been thrown your way, and Jack noticed, adding, “There’s no rush, we just wanted you to know your options, you have plenty of time to think it over.”
You nodded again, and when she stood to leave, you called out, “Wait!” Your voice cracked slightly, and it pained your throat, torn from overuse. “Can I—” you stopped, taking a breath before you continued, “Can I see them? Jeremy and— and Ryan?”
She paused, biting her lip in concentration as she weighed the situation. “Are you sure? Because you don’t have to do this right now. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”
Your brows furrowed, heart pounding as you continued to think about seeing your torturers again, but you just couldn’t quell the longing to be with them. “Is this what having a soulmate is like?” you asked quietly, voice shaking with all the conflicting emotions that filled your head. “They— they—” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t quite acknowledge what they’d done, what you’d been through, “…why do I still want to see them?”
She gave you a sad smile, moving to sit at the edge of your bed. “People tend to romanticize soulmarks as this ‘perfect’ thing; and believe me, while I love my soulmates, the concept is nowhere close to flawless. The whole system is messy, broken, and I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now… but, yes, to answer your question, this is what having a soulmate is like. No matter what someone does, you still want to be with them,” a sigh escaped her, voice trailing off as she added, “more than anything.”
She met your gaze with understanding eyes, another smile pulling at her lips. “So, should I go get Ryan and Jeremy?”
Your voice was small, heart pounding in your chest as you answered, “Please.”
“Hey, I’ll be there the whole time,” she assured you, patting your uninjured leg. “The moment you feel unsafe, you let me know, and I will kindly escort them out.”
With that, she stood and walked out, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts.
The silence of the room was only broken by the pulsing beep of your heart monitor, and it was so quiet, you could hear the murmurs beyond the bedroom door. Trying your best to stay calm, you took a deep breath, fists clenched at your sides. You couldn’t even tell what you were feeling anymore, every emotion, every thought blurring together as they clashed. All you knew was you were the furthest from calm you could get.
After a few moments more, the door opened slowly, pulling your mind out of its haze. With a glance to your left, you saw Jack walk in, the same comforting smile on her face, and you tried your best to smile back. Then, you saw your soulmates, both walking in with shoulders slouched and soft smiles on their lips when they saw you, smiles that didn’t quite reach their heavy eyes.
You could feel your heart skip erratically, didn’t need the monitor to tell you just how fast your pulse was racing. Of course, it did help that they were wearing different clothes, that the man with piercing blue eyes no longer had smudged paint obscuring the majority of his face; but you were still struggling with the memories that threatened to pull you back, to keep you trapped in that warehouse with jagged blades and maniacal grins.
At the sound of your heart monitor stuttering and racing, all three sets of eyes went wide, and Jack moved forward as the other two pressed themselves against the wall, almost shrinking into the background. “Hey,” Jack spoke quietly, leaning down beside your bed and placing a hand on your shoulder, “(y/n), it’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. You’re okay, I promise.”
She watched your face, noting every small reaction, and when your breathing began to slow, she continued, “I want you to look at them, alright?” You nodded hesitantly, looking over to them again, and the first thing you noticed was their hands, intertwined, then the way they glanced at each other worriedly before looking back at you, their eyes soft, almost pleading. “These are not the same men who hurt you. Ryan and Jeremy, they want nothing more than to keep you safe.”
As you looked at them, truly looked at your soulmates, you could feel their hearts breaking, and you wanted more than anything to keep them from hurting anymore. It really started to hit you, these were your soulmates. They were here, with you, looking at you with nothing but love and sorrow in their eyes… it was enough to bring you to tears.
Despite your slowing heart rate, you tears only caused the others to worry more, Ryan and Jeremy slowly moving to leave. “Hey, like I said, it’s okay if you’re not ready,” Jack gently spoke. “We don’t have to do this today, you can take your time—”
“No, no, please don’t take them away from me,” you cut her off, voice desperate and pleading. “Don’t take them away.”
They all looked at you with varying expressions of shock, but no one argued, Jack glancing at the other two before looking back to you. “Would you like me to step outside?” she asked softly, and to your own surprise, you found yourself nodding. “I’ll be right by the door, just shout if you need anything.”
With that, she gave you a warm smile, making her way out of the room.
You moved to sit up, wanting to go towards your soulmates, who still stood near the door. They seemed hesitant to approach you, afraid to make a single wrong move; but that all went away the second you winced and cried out, pain shooting through your arm as you put even the slightest weight on it.
“Hey, hey, don’t push yourself, alright?” Warm brown eyes met yours, and he gave you a soft smile, his hands gentle against your back as he eased you down onto the bed again.
“You’ve got some healing to do,” a deeper voice spoke, and you turned to meet the other’s blue eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze much softer than you remembered. “Just take it easy, we’ll take care of you.”
You smiled despite the dying tears that streaked down your face, and you received even brighter smiles from the two. “You— you’re Ryan?” you asked, still not quite sure, and the way his eyes brightened at the sound of your voice answered the question for you. “And Jeremy?”
“That’s me,” his voice was breathless, a small laugh escaping him. “and since we’re going around, you’re (y/n), right?”
The smile on his face put you at ease, along with the sound of your soulmate saying your name; and though his familiar laugh threatened to pull you back to the warehouse, you forced yourself to focus on his smile, on the kindness in his eyes. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t them, you found yourself thoughts repeating over and over again, only realizing you were speaking aloud when their faces fell.
You began to apologize, your eyes growing wide as you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“(Y/n), no, you— you don’t anything to apologize for,” Ryan spoke softly, though there was an edge to his tone that sent a slight tremor through you. “Jeremy and I, we’re…” he took a deep breath, his fists clenched as he continued, “we’re the ones that did this.”
His eyes flickered first to the small gash along your collarbone, then over each wound and bandage, an unmistakable pain to his gaze. Hesitantly, you reached out to him, placing your hand over his and gently uncurling his fist. He looked down at your hand, brows furrowed as he carefully shifted his hand to grip yours, and then he met your gaze. “(Y/n), I…”
As he trailed off, you squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I know,” you murmured, and just looking into those blue eyes began to drag your mind away, feeling a phantom knife pressed against your skin as that gaze never left yours. With a shuddering breath, you clenched his hand, closing your eyes for a moment. He brushed his thumb along the back of your hand, his skin warm, somehow soft despite the calluses, and you concentrated on that.
Someone who wanted to hurt you wouldn’t be so gentle, you tried to convince yourself, you’re safe.
As you thought it, the last two words were spoken aloud, and you opened your eyes to see Jeremy, a tear slipping down his cheek as he forced a smile. “We’ll keep you safe,” he assured you, his hand moving to brush your hair from your face, lingering for a moment. Just looking at you seemed to send both warmth and pain through him, his gaze so incredibly soft as tears continued to fall.
He hesitated for a moment, the smile fading from his lips as he decided to go through with his next thought, “I just wanted to say, I— I’m sorry, (y/n),” the hand in your hair moved to cup your cheek, and you found yourself both trembling and leaning into the touch. “We’re so, so sorry.” He glanced up at Ryan, their eyes meeting, and you couldn’t do anything but watch as they both tried to blink away tears. Jeremy’s words were barely a whisper as he tried to continue, “There’s noth— nothing—”
When his voice broke, Ryan reached across you, his fingers gentle against Jeremy’s skin as he brushed away his tears. “Nothing we could do to ever make it right,” Ryan continued for him, his voice soft as he moved to look at you with downcast eyes. “But, I promise, we’ll spend the rest of our lives trying.”
“We’re gonna do right by you,” Jeremy added, his voice wavering. “And no one is gonna hurt you ever again.”
In the back of your mind, a voice murmured, don’t make promises you can’t keep, but you shook the thought away, fighting to keep your mind from dragging you back. The longer they were with you, though, the closer those memories were pulled to the forefront of your mind, and your heart rate was climbing quickly.
“I— I’m sorry, can you… can you leave for a bit? I’m really sorry, I just, I can’t—” your voice broke, but they seemed to understand, both of them pulling away slowly.
“(Y/n), it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize or explain yourself,” Ryan assured you as he and Jeremy stood from the bed.
“We’re just… we’re glad you’re okay, and we’ll do whatever we can to keep it that way.”
“Thank you,” you murmured as they made their way out of the room, the words barely there as you were fighting against your own thoughts. The second you knew they were gone, the heart monitor’s beeping slowed significantly, and you took in a painful breath. Your entire body ached, and you couldn’t help but feel exhausted after the mental strain of struggling against your own memories.
“I’ve got some more painkillers,” Jack spoke as she walked in, glass of water in hand. “The last dose we gave you should be wearing off about now, and it’s way too early for you to be feeling everything.”
The small conversation you had with her as you took the meds honestly went by in a daze, and before you could process anything, the painkillers had you drifting off, something you were honestly grateful for. You could deal with your spiraling thoughts when you woke up, until then, you’d fade in and out of dreams, nightmares where Ryan and Jeremy fought to save you from themselves.
711 notes
·
View notes
Cinders - Chapter 2/36
All Chapters
SUMMARY: Stranded in Los Santos, both Ray and yourself are left to battle with the final memories you have from the Fake AH Crew.
WC: 2047
WARNINGS: Slightly graphic content: blood.
You had only intended to stay is Los Santos for a few days to run some operations, but it quickly became apparent that your time in the city would be extended indefinitely; much to Ray’s dissatisfaction. The explosion had resulted in an airspace lockdown that ultimately ruined your plans, destroying the schedule you both had worked so hard to maintain. Now lounging on the couch in your old Los Santos apartment, you lazily watch Ray pace back and forth in front of you. “Ray,” you say gently, looking at the anxious expression on his face and stress setting into his shoulders, “come here.” You stand up, beckoning him to you with kindness in your eyes. He pulls a face before shuffling over to you and leaning his head on top of yours, hands hanging limp by his side. You wrap your arms around him anyway, letting him enjoy the comfort before you whisper “you’ve been blocking the TV.” You feel him grimace, pushing you back onto the couch before dropping down next to you, head in his hands. You sigh, knowing that despite the amusement creeping momentarily onto his face Ray had become extremely uncomfortable since the lockdown.
You pull him towards you, draping an arm around his shoulders and resting your head against his chest. “Ray...” you start, watching the images of the explosion littering the news before clicking it off and feeling him let out a deep sigh. “I just don’t wanna be here” he grumbles, heavily leaning into you and throwing you off balance. You shove him back as he smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know, neither of us do,” you say apologetically, sinking back into the plush cushions and listening to the faint noises drifting in from the street. “It’s gotta be them” you state, sure of yourself. Your stomach twists at the thought, the dry nagging in your chest begging for you to avoid the subject.
“Y/N,” Ray begins to complain, letting himself fall to the other side of the couch while pushing you away with his feet. You swat at them, scowling and ripping off one of his socks, tossing it across the room. “Great, and now my foot’s cold” he wines, continuing to wriggle away from you. “We’ve gotta talk about it” you state as he groan at your words, rolling on to his front and burying his face into the seat cushions, letting his arms hang. “Do we have to?” his voice is muffled, and you feel sadness creep over you. Shuffling uncomfortably, you hold Ray’s leg and give it a squeeze. “Yeah, we do. Something big has to be going on, they must have set off the explosion to get the sky shut down or-” he cuts you off dejectedly, groaning into the fabric of the couch. “No, I don’t want to talk about the crew. I don’t even want to acknowledge that they exist.” You give him another understanding pat and you drift back, letting the memories wash over you as the pain cuts into you as fresh as ever.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Geoff bellows as you bolt back towards the flames, embers dancing sombrely on the delicate wind. The sky stretches above you, amber and smoke clashing together like enemies as the lull of night draws near. He reaches out, snatching your wrist to stop you with desperation in his eyes. “Y/N,” his voice is frantic as his eyes search your face, “you won’t be able to make it back in.” You look from his hand and up to the building burning and crumbling behind you, torn. “He’s still in there” you reply, pleading. Geoff rubs his free hand across his face, his skin caked in ash and despair. “You can’t know that,” his voice cracks, “he could have gotten out with a broken com;” but you’re already shaking your head to dismiss his words. “I have to, Geoff.” You gently peel his fingers from your wrist, squeezing his hand. “I can’t leave him there,” you say simply before rushing forward as Geoff races along side, still trying to convince you of the value your safety holds. “We aren’t leaving him,” he exclaims, panting slightly, “getting killed before backup gets here won’t save anybody!”
You slow as you pull up to the building, your skin beginning to sear uncomfortably. “We have to get the fire under control first,” he grips you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes “I’m not loosing you too, Cheshire, not another.” You give him a quick smile, jumping into his arms and hugging him close, silent for a moment bar the crackling of destruction surrounding you. “I’m not leaving him there” you whisper, feeling him tense when you throw yourself backward while landing your feet against his chest as you push away, forcing him back towards the ground. Landing in a crouch you look at him sadly, begging him to understand before turning quickly and running into the smoke.
Your lungs constrict as you enter the building, hearing the flames roar and structure creak unsteadily as you tie your bandana around your nose to stifle the onslaught of thick smoke. Your eyes fall on Michael as he hurries out of the building, clutching a bleeding and unconscious Gavin whose feet drag through the soot. “The fuck?!” he yells as he pushes past you, eyes angry and face pained “Vagabond’s gonna be so pissed if you die.”
“Then I’ll try my best to make it out” you reply, scanning the area quickly as your heart pounds uncontrollably against your aching ribs. You can hear your crew angrily screaming after you, but as you watch them race towards the entrance the frame collapses; Geoff’s agonised expression the last thing you see before the room is engulfed in flames. With a shudder you return you gaze to the room, panic nibbling at the edges of your resolve.
The stairs are buckling into the fire, leaving the bones of the building exposed beneath a gaping hole choking with plumes of smoke. Taking a deep breath you rush towards it, blood hammering in your ears. Reaching up you grasp at a beam and haul yourself upwards, determination pushing you forward. Struggling, you climb a flight or so further as the final beam beneath your foot strips away, clattering to the ground now dangerously far down. The heat becomes unbearable as you wriggle your way onto the exposed 3rd floor, spotting movement through the billowing smoke.
“Ray” you croak, shuffling towards him. Again, the building clatters, the floor above you cracking and plummeting down towards you. “Ray!” you call louder, squeezing your eyes shut before the concrete smashes into your leg; causing you to let out a scream. Blinding pain shoots through you, your foot contorting as you hear your bones snap. Shrieking, you force yourself to look at your mangled leg buried beneath the rubble, clutching it as you writhe in agony. Taking deep, sporadic breaths you throw your gaze quickly to Ray, able to see his face exposed and staring at you in fear. You can see his mouth moving, but the ringing in your ears drowns out all noise with every flip of your stomach.
Your mind begins to race as you refocus on your leg and the excruciating pain that has you sweating and convulsing uncontrollably. With all your strength you begin to lift, the concrete cutting into your fingers as you force the mass to move. After enough leverage, you try to balance the weight with one hand, using your other to snatch your leg awkwardly out from underneath. Another scream escapes your lips in a gurgle of bubbles, forcing your body forward to wrap around the wound that is now steadily losing blood, glugging fast and thick onto the floor. Groaning through a spasm of pain, you use your knife to help rip a strip of fabric from your shirt, ignoring the jagged bones jutting out that beg for attention. Taking a deep breath you begin to bind the fabric around the wound, wincing and panting as your exposed flesh touches the soft material; dust and ash shuddering from above you to flutter across your skin. Shielding your head from the trickles of debris you twist onto your front, hauling your useless leg behind you as you shuffle closer to Ray with his hand outstretched.
“Y/N?” You hear him choke out your name feebly through your ringing daze, and once you are close enough you tug on his hand; hearing him curse. “We can’t get out” he tells you desperately as he locks onto you, the depths of his eyes frantic and fearful. With a cold sweat setting in and making it harder to breathe, you look around and notice a window glistening with heat. “There,” you point, but Ray shakes his head in rejection.
“Too far down,” he lets out a gut-wrenching cough, “I’ve already thought about it.”. Faintly you can here sirens in the distance; your mind quickly jumping to the safety of the rest of your crew. “Think about it again,” you command while working your way over to the sill, feeling it burn your forearms as you lean against it to look out and on to the street; staring down at the distant ground as you start to shake involuntarily from exertion.
Now turning back to the room, you watch the flames viciously creep towards you; time quickly running out. “Can you move Ray?” you ask while motioning to a large, plush arm chair with a high back adorned with ash, though mostly intact. He struggles, wobbling to his feet and lurching towards it, collapsing onto the seat with the floorboards letting out a moan underfoot. “You’re right,” he jokes weakly “I feel much better.”
“Bring it over,” you instruct, struggling to keep a grip on consciousness as the pain in your leg works its way up your body, setting in your bones. He does as you say, pushing the chair towards you and the window, though your vision blurs as you fade in and out. You motion weakly to his pants, “off.”
“Now’s not the time,” he smiles, but as you roll your eyes you see he begins to strip off his jeans and offers them to you. In a swift motion you tear the denim with your knife, creating a makeshift rope.
“Help me up?” you ask and he’s at your side in an instant. Ignoring the pain as best you can, Ray wraps an arm around you, lifting you to your feet. You snatch at the armchair, shuffling it closer to you before Ray helps you to push it up against the window. With a grunt, He smashes the glass with his elbow, blood dripping from the fragments lodging into his skin. Now working together you manoeuvre the chair to face the room, the back leaning slightly out the window and into the cold, refreshing air.
“We’ve gotta sit” you gasp, keeling over and coughing violently. Ray nods, dragging you to the seat and placing you gently in it. You give him his jeans and he squeezes in next to you, wrapping the fabric under the chair then around your bodies. You look at him as your head spins, holding your hand out for him to cling to firmly. “We’re fucking dead” he says in an almost cheerful tone and you wheeze, placing your uninjured foot flat on the floor. He plants his feet too, and you both close your eyes. “On three,” he says, “one-” he pushes off with his feet and you feel your stomach churning and rushing into your throat; hurtling backwards and out of the window. Clenching your mouth shut, the wind rushes around you noisily as you plummet to the ground, landing with a painful crunch.
Your eyes are still shut, but you can hear Ray laughing incredulously. “We made it” he exclaims, but his words falter a fraction, enough for concern to stir inside of you. Opening your eyes you stare up at the building you fell from, smoke rushing as the wall shakes and begins to tumble. “Don’t look!” you screech, instinctively curling into Ray’s waiting arms as searing pain crushes you, leaving you alone in the rubble, dust and ash.
54 notes
·
View notes