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hanoella · 3 years

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A Matter of Time (2/2)

Pairing: Bucky x healer!Reader

Word Count: yikes 7.3k

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst. Mentions of death. Reference to Eternals 👀

A/N: Wow! I'm so happy everyone likes it! I like to get gorgeous with it haha. Hopefully, I'm not overdoing it.

Prompt: Believing they're about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.

Tag list? I guess this is where I would put it? :) - @mischief-siriusly-managed @itsthemaree

@skyewardolicitycloisdelena91

---

You opened your eyes to a black room. No, not a room. There were no walls. You glanced down at your hands. You could still see them, so it wasn’t dark, just… black.

“Well, hello.”

You spun around and saw the source of the voice.

A serene, beautiful woman who had long dark hair and dressed in a green tunic addressed you.

“What has brought you here, young one?”

You took a moment to process your surroundings before you answered.

“I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is. The last I remember is…”

You trailed off, furrowing your brows, and blinking slowly as the memories start to flood back in.

“Ah… Am I dead?”

“Not quite. Though it does look like you are very close.” The woman says, peering to the side.

You followed her gaze and suddenly you were looking upon your own body, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Startled, you gasp and step back. Looking around, you were back in the mountains by the Quinjet. Nobody seemed to notice you, even though you were right next to… yourself. Bucky was kneeling on the ground, holding your listless body to his chest. You looked away from him to take in your surroundings. Steve was kneeling next to him while the rest of the team was standing. Vision was comforting an anxious Wanda, while Sam and Natasha were getting a stretcher out of the jet. Clint was warming up the engine. Next to him was Tony, who was radioing into the compound’s medical center.

You turned your head back to Steve as he set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and started speaking.

“Buck. Buck. You have to let her go. We have to get her somewhere where they can help her.”

Bucky only held onto you tighter, tears still dripping onto your face, leaving clear streaks in the blood.

“She’s dead Steve. There’s no pulse. I can’t find a pulse.” His voice hoarse, barely there.

“Friday said there was still brain activity. You know her body’s different, she could still survive. But only if we get her help. Helen’s on her way to meet us at the compound. She’ll be in good hands.” Steve said, gently loosening Bucky’s grip on you. As Nat and Sam came over, he gently lifted you out of Bucky’s arms and set you on the stretcher. They took you back to the jet, Bucky eyes trailing after you, the rest of his body unmoving.

“C’mon Buck. Let’s get going.” Steve said, offering his hand.

Bucky said nothing but accepted his help, hoisting himself up and walking slowly towards the ship with Steve’s arm on his back, guiding his soulless body.

You watched the jet take off before turning back to the woman. She was standing in the same place, watching you curiously.

“What’s happening here?” You asked, shock wearing off and confusion growing ever stronger.

“Well,” She started, clasping her hands together, and pondering the best way to put it.

“I’ve been alive long enough to see many generations of life go by. I have seen the same tragedies, wars, and evils repeat themselves endlessly through history. One thing that never fails to amaze me, though, is the beauty that manages to survive and thrive amongst it.”

Suddenly, you were in a charred landscape. Looking around, you recognized it as one of the first missions you took with Bucky. It was on the coastal countryside of Japan. You were both sent to follow up on a lead for a major weapons dealer. The mission had been simple: find the hideout and report back.

Unfortunately, they must have been tipped off to the fact that you were looking for them and burned their hideout, along with the surrounding plant life. You watched as Bucky and your past-self walked out from behind you. Startled again, you could only watch as the memory played out.

---

“Ah, what a shame. He didn’t have to burn down the trees with him.” You said sorrowfully as you picked up a charred ginkgo branch.

“It looks old. Burned down before we set foot in the country.” Bucky said, assessing the scene.

You stayed silent, putting down the branch and picking up the remnants of a bird’s nest that was underneath. Bucky watched you from several feet back. It took him a while to warm up to people and he had only ever seen you in passing. He knew that your apartment was down the hall from his in the compound but that was it. The only reason you were even on this mission together was that he spoke enough Japanese to get by while you knew the area from visiting previously.

“There’s nothing here. We should go back to the city and check in,” he said, looking around to double check the area before settling his gaze back on you.

You half-heartedly hummed in response, now putting your palm down on the ground. Bucky look at you quizzically as you paused, seemingly focusing on something.

“Some of these tree roots are still alive.” You said, perking up.

You set down the bird’s nest in your other hand before also placing that palm on the ground. Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhaled as a ring of soft light formed around you. You breathed in again, the light becoming brighter. Bucky took a step back and shielded his eyes. You exhaled, sending the ring of white light out from you. It went several meters before dissipating. When Bucky lowered his hand, he saw that several trees that had been scorched were growing back to perfect health. The white bark and bright yellow leaves stood out sharply against the ash and soot. You got up, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the tree in front of you. Slowly, a smile came upon your face. You closed your eyes for moment, taking it in before turning your head towards him.

Just then, the wind picked up and pushed the clouds out from in front of the sun. A ray of light filtered through the trees onto your face and suddenly Bucky was breathless. He watched as your chest rose and fell, the strain outlining your clavicle where a sheen of perspiration had developed. You were still smiling in accomplishment, the irises of your eyes shimmering in the sunlight. Gingko leaves that had been shaken off in the wind floated gently down, some landing on your gleaming hair before sliding off the silky strands.

You watched yourself walk back over to the bird’s nest and bury it in the fresh fallen gingko leaves. After taking a moment to honor the lost life, you stood, brushed the dirt from your knees and continued on. Bucky broke from his trance-like state and cleared his throat before walking in the direction you went in.

---

Seeing something in your peripheral vision, you turned to see the woman crouching to pick up a stray gingko leaf in the ash.

“One thing I’ve noticed amongst the ash,” she said in her light English accent before standing up and twirling the leaf slowly by the stem, “-is you.”

---

Bucky felt as if he was drifting through the actions. The jet was unbearably silent during the never-ending trip back to the compound. At some point Steve had put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder but he didn’t notice until it was gone. Endless possibilities were running through his head and yet he could not focus on a single one. It was agonizing.

When the jet landed, emergency medical staff, as well as Helen, met them on the runway. Helen relayed orders in Korean while her staff whisked her out of Bucky’s sight. He tried to follow after them, but Nat grabbed his arm and slowly shook her head no. When she spoke, her voice sounded more vulnerable than he had expected.

“Let them do their work.”

Bucky swallowed and looked over at Steve. Steve nodded in agreement and Bucky felt his shoulders drop.

“You need some rest, Buck. C’mon.” Steve said, patting him on the back and walking him to his lodging.

When Bucky closed the door behind him, he put his back against it and sank to the floor. He was exhausted. Everything had happened so fast, and he felt it to be overwhelming. He was starting to fixate on the stickiness of the blood and sweat, the exhaustion in his muscles. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he got up and walked to the bathroom, turning on the water to warm it up. He chucked his clothes directly into the washer before stepping under the warm water. He let it wash over him. He closed his eyes and moved so that the stream of water ran over his face.

In the darkness of his own mind, he relived holding you in his arms. Suddenly, the warm water felt like your blood against his skin and he snapped his eyes open, bracing himself with one hand against the wall, the other wiping his face off. He tried to slow down his breathing and counted the breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. Finally, calming down a little, he turned the hot water knob back to its original position, waiting for the water to reach freezing before quickly finishing the shower.

Dressing in a plain tee and sweats, he sat on his bed. No matter how firm the mattress was, he always ended up on the floor. He hadn’t chucked it for two reasons, the first being that he hardly had any possessions. The second reason was that you had come by once with a book you had mentioned.

---

Hearing the soft knock on his door, Bucky was hesitant to answer. The footsteps leading up to the door hadn’t been heavy enough to be Steve. He slowly walked over to the door and cracked the door open. It was you. You met his eyes and then lowered your gaze nervously, adjusting your grip on the book in your hand.

“Bucky? Hey, sorry to drop by unannounced. I just had that second book I was talking about. You finished the first one right?”

“Uh… Yeah I did. Come, on in.” He said, opening the door completely. He palmed through his hair nervously as you walked tentatively in.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Sorry for the intrusion.” You say, glancing around.

Your eyes brushed over the empty apartment. It was furnished with the standard set that it came with. Aside from a set of keys on the counter and a stray plum on the coffee table, there were no signs of life.

“I don’t think you can have a mess if you don’t have stuff to make a mess with.” You said bemused. Behind you Bucky chuckled nervously.

“Haha… Ah. Yeah.”

There was silence before you turned around.

“I’m sorry. This is weird. I should’ve just waited to give you the book at the next mission or something.” You apologized. Yet, you didn’t move.

Bucky backpedaled.

“Oh no, it’s not that. I’m sorry. I just don’t get a lot of… visitors.” He trailed off.

You met his gaze before your lip twitched upwards. A bubble of laughter escaped your mouth before he started chuckling as well. The tension was broken.

“Well, I’ll just leave this here.” You said, starting to leave the book on the coffee table.

“That’s fine. Uh, did you want the first one back?”

“There’s no rush-”

“I don’t mind. It’s just on my shelf.” He pointed down the hall. “I’ll grab it real quick.”

You watched as he walked down the short hall into his room. Still holding the book, you waited a moment before slowly following walking down the hall as well. When you peered into his room, you saw him standing in front of a bookshelf with several rows filled. You took a step inside.

“Ah, so this is where you keep your stuff. You might live here after all.” You joked.

Bucky chuckled as he moved aside to make room next to him for you in front of the shelf. He was still scanning the shelves for your book. You let your gaze drift across the titles, most of which were classics.

“Making up for lost time?” You asked, glancing up at the side of his face.

“Something like that.” He responded, bending down to check a lower shelf before pulling your book off of it.

He handed it to you, and you exchanged it for the new one.

“So,” you said, leaning against the side of his bed, “How did you like it?”

“I liked it.” He responded.

Bucky looked at you and saw your slight head tilt asking for more details. He cleared his throat and thought for a moment.

“Well… There was this one part that reminded me of the time I went with Steve to…” He started, sitting on the bed next to you. You hopped up next to him.

You listened to him as he retold his experience at the world fair. Going back and forth, your conversation flowed smoothly until it had gotten later than either of you had realized. At some point you had convinced him to read the first chapter of the second book.

“No pressure.” You said, flopping back so you were laying down across the bed, holding up your phone to scroll through the news to pass the time.

Bucky started reading the book, overly conscious of the fact that you were waiting on him. When he sent a quick glance your way though, you were nonchalantly scrolling. Eventually, he got absorbed into the chapter. Quite some time passed before he realized he was just reading the rest of the book. When that happened, he looked over at you.

You had dozed off waiting for him. At some point, you had taken your shoes off and grabbed the blanket he used off of the floor where he normally slept. You were curled up on your side, feet tucked away and mouth slightly open. Bucky stared for a few moments before closing the book and looking at his watch.

12:47 AM.

He blinked in surprise. You guys had talked for a while he guessed. Leaning over, he gently nudged you awake.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I got caught up reading. It’s almost 1 AM.”

You hummed groggily in response, rubbing your eye with one hand while pushing yourself up with the other. You squinted at the light of your phone as you checked it.

“It’s totally fine. I’m sorry I fell asleep. I am such a terrible guest.” You chuckled sleepily, standing up from the bed and picking up your shoes.

“Nah, you weren’t so bad.” Bucky joked.

You just smiled at him.

“Well, thanks for having me. I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, shoes in hand as you walked started walking towards the door to his room.

He got up and followed you to the door. He held it open for you as you stepped out. Turning around you smiled sleepily at him.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He replied.

He watched as you walked down the hall in your socks. You reached your door and punched in the code to your apartment. Looking down the hall at him, you waved as you opened your door. He waved back and you smiled one more time before you disappeared into your room. Pausing a moment, he looked around to see if anyone saw you leaving his room so late. With nobody around, he was in the clear. He sighed in relief and closed the door, walking back to his room. He noticed the first book that you were supposed to take back sitting on his nightstand. He touched the cover gently, pausing a moment before picking the second book back up, starting right where he left off.

---

Bucky reached over to pull the book you had left off of his shelf. He ran his hands over the indents of the golden lettering in the leather-bound book. Opening it, he looked at the sticky note that you left inside the cover.

Here’s that book I was talking about. First edition. Enjoy! :)

While looking at the crooked smile you had drawn, a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and he stalled a moment before getting up to answer it. Opening the door, he was met with Steve, freshly showered and holding a bottle of Buck’s favorite whiskey.

“Thought you might want some company.” He said with his classic side grin.

Bucky wordlessly moved from the doorway and let him in. Steve walked past and sat on the couch, setting the whiskey down on the coffee table. Grabbing two glasses from the kitchen, Bucky settled down next to him. Steve poured a healthy portion into one of the glasses, handing one over before sitting back with his own. Swishing the liquid in the glass, Steve breathed in the aroma before sipping on it. Bucky decided on downing the entire drink in one go.

“Woah slow down there, the night is young.” Steve joked.

“C’mon Stevie. You know it doesn’t do a thing.” Bucky said wistfully, examining the empty glass in his hands. “I wish it did.”

Steve scanned his eyes over Bucky’s expression before turning back to his drink. A beat passed as he sipped once more before speaking.

“You care for her.” More of a statement than a question.

Bucky paused before admitting it out loud for the first time.

“… Yeah.”

They sat in silence before Steve sat forward, resting one arm on his knee while using the other to grab the bottle.

“In that case, let’s get you another drink.”

---

The night inched by; The amber liquid slowly drainin from the bottle until the last of it was in their glasses. Wordless, yet comforting. The sky brightened as the first rays of the sun kissed the morning dew, turning the landscape a stunning orange. Steve’s mind wandered as he watched the sky change color. Many a morning, he watched the sun rise on a battlefield as if nothing had disturbed it the day before. It’s what sustained him through sickness, war, and losing Bucky. It sustained him through his sacrifice as he plunged into the sea. It sustained him when he learned that he woke up in a new era, missing his dance with his best girl.

Clearing his throat, he set down his empty glass.

“What’re you going to say when she wakes up?”

“You mean if she wakes up.” Bucky said, his focus still on the drink in his hand.

“You should tell her how you feel. Life is unpredictable, especially in our line of work. I’ve never seen you care so much for anyone, Buck. Not back then, and not since you came back. When she wakes up, and you get this second chance, tell her. She cares about you too. Be with her. Enjoy it. You deserve to be happy.” Steve said, ending his speech quietly as he tried to remember the shade of red Peggy’s lipstick was when he last saw her on that runway.

Bucky glanced at Steve from the side, feeling the regret that had emanated from his voice. He stayed silent a moment longer before nodding his head slightly.

“I will. Thanks Steve.” He replied, laying his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Always. ‘Til the end of the line, pal.”

“The end of the line.” Bucky echoed.

Steve’s phone chirped, breaking the solemnity. He reached into his pocket and checked the message on his home screen.

“Helen has an update. C’mon.” Steve said, as he stood up from the couch.

---

“This has been a particularly unique situation.” Helen stated, swiping her tablet screen to look at more information. Bucky and Steve stood in front of her, outside of the room they were keeping you in.

“We ran many tests, including an EEG, which shows massive amounts of brain activity, much more than normal. We also took some blood and saw that the cells are still… alive. We don’t know how since there is no pulse or heartbeat, but they’re still drawing energy from her. I’m not sure how great of an extent the serum has changed her body, but I think there’s still a chance she’ll wake up. Until then, we have her connected to machines that will continue to monitor her brain activity, as well as alert us when there’s a pulse.”

She then opened the room for them to see you. Bucky walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. You were lying on the bed in a hospital gown. Attached to your head were the wires sensing your brain activity. The monitor above showed one set of waves that were constantly fluctuating. The other set of waves were flat, showing that the wires on your chest were not sensing anything. It was strange how still you were. No tell-tale rise and fall of your chest, no twitching or turning; Completely still. Bucky walked over to the bedside and touched your arm. He was surprised to feel the heat and softness against his fingertips.

“She’s still warm?” He asked without taking his eyes off of you.

“Yes. We can’t explain it.” Helen replied, hugging the clipboard to her chest as she watched him brush a piece of hair tenderly to the side of your face.

Suddenly, the waves on the screen fluctuated, setting off a light dinging. Bucky turned his head quickly to the screen and then back at Helen, alarm etched into his face. Helen walked over to reset the alarm, taking a moment to analyze the situation.

“It seems as if she’s registering your voice, Sergeant Barnes. Perhaps it would be of benefit if you visited and spoke to her often.” She said tactfully while adjusting one more setting on the screen.

Bucky said nothing in return, letting Helen return to the doorway.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She said, letting a moment pass before exiting the room.

Steve let a moment pass, watching Bucky as he pulled up a chair next to the bed.

“I’m gonna go grab you something to eat.” Steve said as he walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Bucky alone with you.

He sat in silence for a few moments before gently placing his hand atop yours, willing you to move, even just a centimeter, so he knew you were there.

Your body stayed as it was. Devoid of life.

---

“I don’t understand.” You replied to her, confused.

“It is rare enough to find someone with a pure, good heart. Add to that fact, the power that has been bestowed upon you. You have the capability to change to world. To heal it.” The mysterious woman said.

“There is a group of us, a few with similar attributes. We walk amongst the people, generation after generation. We guide humanity forward while protecting it from disasters greater than you could ever imagine. I believe that you could aid us in that work. I just hadn’t expected for us to meet so soon.”

She walked over to you and handed you the leaf she was holding, now turned to metal. You turned it over in your hand, feeling the energy coming off of it.

“I’m… extremely flattered. But there are plenty of other extremely good-hearted people out there. Steve, for example. Why me?”

“Ah, yes. Your friend Steve.” She said thoughtfully, now walking to the middle of the ashen clearing.

“Steve has a good heart. A very honorable man. But he lacks the discernment and the wisdom necessary to use these powers. He sees the world as black and white, when really things are endlessly grey. He lacks… perspective. To be in this role, you must understand that sometimes, you need to let things happen, even the bad ones, to protect the world at a larger scale. You, however, already have some of the power that comes with this role, and have used it in a worthy manner. I’ve seen some of the choices you’ve had to make. I’ve seen how you handle incredibly difficult decisions. Your mind is quick, your wit impressive, your heart pure. But perhaps most importantly of all, you possess the wisdom to use those attributes to help further humanity.”

“I see… but I don’t have all the powers that you seem to have.” You say hesitantly.

“It does not matter. I can bestow upon you the power, and I can show you how to turn this,” she says, gesturing to the few trees that you had revived.

“-into this.”

She raises her hands slowly, golden sigils forming around her arms. A blast of light and pressure made you step back and shield your eyes. The initial pulse over, you look around as the wind blew in a circle, lifting up the fallen gingko leaves into a storm. All of the charred remains of the land started slowly coming back to life. It grew back lush and healthy, returning the area to its natural glory. She waved her hand, causing a part of the ground next to a large boulder to collapse. She gently placed her hand on the rock, emitting more gold sigils before pulling away. As she moved back, water started flowing from where she had touched the rock, filling the ground, and creating a pond at its base.

You look around with wide eyes as you heard sounds of wildlife filling the area. You heard birds fly overhead as you watched a fawn come out from the bushes to take a drink from the pond. As you walked slowly closer, the woman gently placed her hand on the fawn’s back to keep it from getting spooked. Carefully reaching your hand out in offering, the fawn sniffed your hand before allowing you to softly scratch behind its ears. Looking down at the pond, several brightly colored fish swam amongst the lilies.

“You could help me do this and more.” She said, fondly petting the fawn. With her other hand, she manipulated the wind so that it fashioned your hair into a loose bun. She stepped closer to you, taking the metal leaf from your hand, and securing your hair with it. Slowly, you felt new power travel through your veins. You turned to look at her, slowly clenching your hands. As you opened them, water flowed from your palm, slipping through your fingers before falling onto the newly invigorated earth. A golden sigil was etched into your palm, glowing brightly. As you willed the water to stop, it trickled to a stop as the sigil disappeared. It was breathtaking. Eyes filled with wonderment, you looked up at her and met her eye.

“Teach me.”

The woman grinned before turning and walking away. You were about to start following her when you thought you felt something brush across your cheek. A familiar feeling. A whisper you could barely make out echoed through your head.

… still warm…

“Come.” She called behind her.

You snapped out of your daze and started walking again.

---

It’s been a little over a month since you had passed out in Bucky’s arms. At first, he refused to leave your side, even to sleep. Steve had convinced them to bring a cot into the room so Bucky could stop sleeping slumped over the bed in the chair. But after 2 weeks, Steve insisted that he go back to his room to sleep. Take some time for himself. They would let him know if anything happened.

Since then, Bucky had taken some time to reflect. He didn’t want to accept the worst possible outcome, but it seemed to be the only outcome. After the sun had set on the day that marked a month, he laid on his bed and sobbed, first angrily, then despairingly. You weren’t coming back to him.

The next day, he woke up numb. It ended up being the first day he didn’t visit you.

---

“Wow that’s amazing!” You shouted over the wind. You were currently with the woman atop a mountain. She had redirected an avalanche so that it missed the town at its base, and youhad helped.

She smiled. She had shown you several areas that she had helped before. First was a desert oasis that she kept from disappearing, and after that was a jungle in which you stopped a wildfire from killing off the last of an endangered monkey species. She turned and you followed her gaze. Suddenly, you were back at the pond you had started at.

“That was incredible. Thank you.” You said, breathless.

“I would be honored to help you with this work. How do I wake up and find you?”

“You don’t.” She said, her expression falling a bit.

You waited for her to explain.

“I wanted to show you everything you could accomplish before you made your decision. But unfortunately, to sustain this amount of power, you must take on a new form.”

You tilted your head slowly in confusion before you spoke.

“So, I’d have to leave my body for a new one?” You asked slowly.

“Essentially, yes. You would die, so to speak.” The woman said quietly before turning.

As you turned to follow her, you found yourself staring at your body hooked up to multiple machines. The woman walked around to the other side of the bed your body was on. Looking down affectionately at your sleeping form, she spoke:

“Your brain would stop emitting thought, and this form of yours would grow cold and die. But from it, your new form would be born. Ethereal, perfect, immortal.”

You swallowed thickly as you continued to stare at the monitor showing the last signs of life in your body,

“Okay, but would I be able to come back here in this new form?”

She paused thoughtfully.

“Theoretically, you’d have the capability to. But we could not allow it. To be able to walk amongst mortals in history, you must disappear from it first. When all of the lives you’ve touched have passed on, on then is when you may reappear alongside us. Until that time, you train with us in the shadows.”

“Oh.” You said, feeling impossibly small. “That’s… not unreasonable.”

“I wish not to lie to you. Normally, when we find someone we think worthy of this job, someone we want to walk alongside us in our journey, we meet their soul at death. And technically you have died. But a foreign power still lingers inside you. You may return to your old life if you wish. But the offer only stands once.”

“I see.” You said softly.

“I wish it were easier.” She said comfortingly.

“Me too. There were somethings here that I wanted to see through first.”

She gave you a knowing, sad smile.

“I suppose the biggest trial to gain this power is the sacrifice of leaving what you love behind. Yours is just beyond that door.” She said, nodding towards the door to the room.

“What?”

---

Six weeks since you had been gone. Two since he last saw you.

Not that Bucky was trying to keep track. He sat alone on his couch, staring at a blank tv. Nothing was playing. Not that it mattered. A knock on the door came through.

“Hey, Bucky, it’s me, Sam.” He half shouted through the door.

Bucky ignored him.

“I know you’re in there. You haven’t left.”

He groaned internally before responding to him from the couch.

“Did Steve send you? Go away.”

“I will not go away, now open this door.” Sam responded, jiggling the handle.

“No.” Bucky said, making no attempt to move.

“Fine then. But you made me do this.”

Bucky snapped his head towards the door as he heard Sam punch some numbers into the pin pad. It chirped before unlocking, Sam coming through the door.

“Hey, what’s your problem, man? Bucky said, coming face to face with Sam.

“Wasn’t a hard guess. Old people use the same password for everything. Shouldn’t have made it the same as your name on the Pacman machine leaderboard downstairs. You’ve been bumped down to second place by the way, curtesy of moi.” He said with flourish.

“What do you want, Sam?” Bucky asked annoyedly, sitting back down on the couch.

“You know why I’m here man.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets before continuing:

“You gotta go see her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not coming back!” Bucky shouted. He started getting up.

“Everyone keeps telling me to go see her, but she’s gone, Sam. Gone. Just ripped from my arms. And she died for me.She wasted her life on me of all things. I’m not gonna go just to stare at her body and replay the worst moments of my life, over and overagain. I can’t do it anymore.”

Bucky blinked and realized there were tears in his eyes. His face was flushed from shouting and his chest was heaving. Sam let a moment pass before he spoke.

“Look, I’m not here to tell you to keep seeing her so that magically she’ll wake up. I’ll level with you, there’s a chance she might not. If you believe she’s not coming back, I’m not judging you on that. I’m here to tell you that if you think that, you need to say goodbye. Get some closure. Scream, cry, whatever. But afterwards, you’ll feel better. I can’t stand watching you suffer like this, man. I’ve seen people at the VA fall apart and stay that way. I just don’t want you to end up like that.”

Bucky stared at him before letting out a noise that got caught in his throat. His legs felt weak, and he found himself sitting on the couch with his face in his hands, crying.

Sam quietly sat next to him and put his arm around him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck. It is.”

---

Some time after Sam had left and he had washed his face, Bucky made his way down the hall to your room. It was late and subsequently quiet. Stopping in front of the door to the room your body was lying in, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

---

You blinked as the door opened and Bucky walked through. He looked tired. His eyes were red and puffy: His facial hair was grown out more than normal. He looked… skinnier? Without taking your eyes off of him, you turned to your teacher.

“How long has it been?”

“Time moves much more quickly in the realm we’re in unless you are interacting with the one you came from. It’s been a little over a month in his time.” She answered.

“A month? Really?”

She nodded as you watched Bucky slowly walk over to the chair next to the bed. You sat on the bed with one leg folded under you, the other swinging off the edge of the bed. The woman did the same, though she kept her legs together, putting her hands together in her lap. You watched as Bucky picked up your hand, enclosing it in both of his own as he sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“You know, people keep telling me to not give up hope. But they don’t realize what it does to me to see you like this.” He started, voice scratchy and soft. It sounded like the whispers you thought you had been hearing around you while traveling with your teacher, only now that you were right by him, you could hear him clearly.

“I come in here, and I talk to you like they tell me to. I read you the books you lent me out loud. I watch the waves on the screen go nuts when I talk, and I feel that your skin is warm when I touch you. But without you replying, without you touching me back, it feels worse than any torture I’ve endured in my life.”

Tears spilled over onto your cheeks as you listened. The ache in your heart growing ever stronger.

“I wish I had gotten a chance to tell you that you made my life worth living. I was just going through the motions. Trying to make amends, trying to make up for everything I’ve done, and maybe then I’d have some peace. But I never expected to be happy. And now you’re gone. And I feel nothing. It’s worse than before I knew what being happy felt like. I’m not ready to go back. I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Come back.”

He bowed his head, letting the tears drop onto the floor, clutching your hand so tightly, it surely would’ve hurt if you could feel it.

Tears still streaming, you turned to look at the woman. Time had slowed to a stop, seconds barely going by. She acknowledged you with a slight nod, letting a moment pass before asking:

“Which choice have you made, young one?”

You smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes one side at a time.

“I’m going to make the wrong decision. The selfish decision. I want to stay.” You said, happiness overflowing in your voice as more tears slip down your face.

“There is no wrong decision.” She said, placing your hand on your shoulder. Bowing her head lightly, she looked you in the eyes.

“Are you ready to go back?”

“Yes, thank you, uhm…”

“Sersi,”

“Sersi.” You repeated.

“Thank you for everything. This has been an incredible experience. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”

She smiled knowingly.

“When you need me, you’ll know where to find me.” She said, plucking the gingko leave out of your hair. Your hair fell out around your face as a white light grew ever brighter, soon blinding your vision.

---

Bucky raised his head at the sound of a foreign beeping in the room. Locating the source of the sound, he focused in on the red flashing on the screen.

Pulse 72

Pulse 72?

Pulse 72.

Bucky scrambled to press his fingers against your wrist. There it was.

Suddenly, your chest rose. He heard you take in an impossibly deep breath in and back out. He was stunned. While he was staring in disbelief, you turned your head slightly before opening your eyes.

“Bucky?”

He couldn’t do anything but hold you to him.

“Woah there, did you miss me?” You teased.

“Yes. So much.”

You pulled away from him and tilted your head, confused.

“Do I even want to know how long I was out?” You asked, ripping the stickies off of your head.

“Six weeks.”

“Six weeks!?”

“Do you remember anything that happened?” He asked, soaking in your voice.

“The last thing I remember is… the mountains.”

Bucky sat in silence a moment before he grabbed your hand.

“When you were gone, it made my life feel like it was over. I couldn’t stand it. It felt like I had nothing, all over again. You and I have grown really close and I just wanted you to hear all of that now that I have a second chance. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin, if you’ll have me.” He asked, gripping your hand tighter.

You stared into his eyes, the light reflecting the frosty color of his irises brilliantly. You leaned over to kiss him, and he met you halfway. Light and chaste, you pull back and rest your forehead on his.

“Of course I will, Buck. Always.”

---6 Months Later---

You trekked through the tall grass, smelling the coast and nearby sea.

“Just a little farther.” You called back to Bucky.

“I feel like you’ve said that several times now.” He joked, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun and the bite of the wind.

You turned around, stopping in your tracks.

“Haha, very funny. But seriously, I think it’s at top of this cliff,” you said, peering up at the ledge several feet above you.

He caught up to where you were, placing a quick kiss to your nose before bracing his back against the wall and interlocking his hands.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a boost.”

You stepped into his hand and jumped up, using the extra momentum to catch the edge. Pulling yourself up, you turned around, stomach to the ground, extending your hand to him. He grunted as he climbed partway up, grabbing your hand when the soil turned sandy halfway, leaving no holds for him to grab onto.

Pulling him up, you both sit for a moment, catching your breath and taking in the view.

“So,” he started. “Is it anything like you remembered?”

“Yeah. I think. It’s kind of hazy. But I think I dreamed about this place a lot while I was out. I felt like it was an itch that I couldn’t scratch unless I came here to check it out for myself.” You said, resting back onto your hands.

“Well, let’s scratch your itch.”

Bucky got up and dusted his pants off before offering you his hand. You accepted and pulled yourself up, steadying yourself before walking through the trees into the coming clearing.

When you reached it, it felt eerily familiar. The arrangement of the trees, the water running into the pond, even the arrangement of the moss. It was like peering at your dream through a pair of glasses; It was much clearer now.

“Wow. This place has really recovered since the last time we’ve been here,” Bucky said as he watched the gingko leaves fall around him.

You walked over to the pond and crouched, washing the fish swim between the lilies. You had a nagging feeling that something else was missing from the scene. You eyed a glint in the water while responding back to him.

“Yeah, it has. I think this is how it looked in my dream.”

Bucky walked over to you, and you looked up at him lovingly. Standing up, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry I dragged you to the other side of the globe just to come here.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright,” he said, putting his hands on your waist. “Who says we won’t be touring other parts of Japan while we’re here? Besides, this is where we had our first mission. It’s like coming back to a first date spot.” He said with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you.”

He blinked, before smiling wider.

“I love you too.” He replied, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him, kissing you deeply.

---

From further up in the air, Sersi watched from the concealed airship, a man walking up to join her at the window.

“Still think she made the right decision?” He said, holding his hands behind his back.

“Come now, Ikaris. If I had had you before this life, would you be happy at the thought of me giving you up?”

“Of course not. But you didn’t have me before, you have me now.”

“Yes, yes.” She said, smiling as she brushed him off.

“Besides,” she continued. “I don’t think I could’ve offered her anything else. Once I saw how she looked at him, I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Smiling wistfully, she flicked her finger, sending a breeze through the landing where you were.

---

The ginkgo leaves fluttered onto your faces, making you both laugh as you separated to brush them off.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading the way. “Let’s go see the coast.”

He smiled, looking at you with adoration, and followed you out from the clearing to wherever you would walk from then on. A ray of light shined through the trees onto the pond, the glint of the golden ginkgo leaf sparkling out from under the rocks at the bottom.

#kas9kwc #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

I refuse to believe the droid that blew up under tech's ass didn't cause more damage

3.9k words ~ depictions of violence ~ ao3 ~ a little whump for your troubles

"They're using live rounds!" Hunter hisses, and Tech's blood runs cold. Live rounds? The Kaminoans have never resorted to training with live rounds within the simulation chamber. Even at a low power, live rounds have 62% chance of causing extensive damage to the room's durasteel construction, as opposed to the 21% chance with stuns. That does not even account for the monetary loss if a soldier were to lose their life or require medical attention. All in all, it's a horribly irresponsible training tactic. Something has changed. But why? Tech does not have an answer for that.

He looks at Hunter and Echo crouched behind the barrier next to him. "Get Wrecker," Hunter commands, the flurry of bright red blaster shots zooming overhead. "We'll cover you."

Tech offers a single nod in confirmation and eyes the distance to his fallen brother. With cover from both Hunter and Echo, and if he approaches from the opposite side of his barrier, he should have a relatively high chance of success. Assuming he can keep his head down, of course.

Tech makes his way to the barrier closer to Wrecker without issue.

"Wrecker, are you alright?" He asks, his anxiety quelling at the sight of his brother crawling toward him. The shot did not seem to fully penetrate his armor, which is good news. Tech runs out to meet him, grabbing Wrecker by the shoulder to help him get out of the line of fire.

Just in time it seems. One of the trigger-happy droids notices their movement and leaves a trail of carbon scoring in their wake.

Tech and Wrecker collapse against a barrier just as Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair fall back from their previous positions. He can see them approximately eight meters away. Too far to hear any orders without Hunter alerting the droids to their potential plan.

Suddenly their barrier is getting pounded by blasters. The training droids have discovered their hiding place and are firing without mercy. Smoke from the live rounds curl from the other side of the barrier, fogging up Tech's goggles and filling the air with the horrendous scent of burnt plastoid.

Or perhaps that is the smell of Wrecker's melted chest plate. Difficult to tell. Tech is quickly inching toward overstimulation from the deafening shots, heavy footsteps, and smell of smoke assaulting his senses..

He peers around the corner of their hiding space to get an idea of how close the droids are when a shot slams against the corner— far too close to comfort. He recoils just in time, but the heat of the shot still warms the skin between his helmet and blacks. There seems to be no clear break as the line of their attackers moves forward. He and Wrecker are stuck unless the others can help.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of battle. Tech and Wrecker look at their sergeant who waits for their attention before going through a serious of hand signals.

Split up. Cover. Draw fire. Distract and manual take down. Reprogram. Tech nods along, recognizing this particular sequence.

"Oh!" Wrecker exclaims, collapsing dramatically from his crouched position. "I hate hand signals."

"Perhaps if you memorized them," Tech offers, though he knows there is no chance in hell that will ever happen.

"Why don't you memorize them?"

"I have." Tech is more surprised that Wrecker assumed he hadn't. "What we did on Felucia."

Wrecker is on his feet in an instant. "Why didn't you just say that?" He throws a thumbs up to Hunter and the others— the only hand signal they can ever trust Wrecker to remember— and crouches his way to the outskirts of the chamber.

Tech watches as Hunter and Crosshair lay down cover fire, splitting up to spread the attention of the droids. And Echo assumes his ARC trooper role of running head-on into the action. As the droids shoot at his quick run, Wrecker runs up from behind, tackling one of the training droids to the ground with a satisfied laugh.

Also in typical ARC trooper fashion, Echo jumps onto the back of the other droid as though it's an angry rancor he's attempting to ride. And the droid bucks as any rancor would-- until Echo slams his scomp link into its neck, deactivating it all together.

Now it's reprogramming time. Tech runs to meet them, catching Wrecker's eager arm as it moves to punch the fallen droid again.

"Reprogramming this thing will be pointless if you crush it."

Wrecker seems disappointed, but he resists the urge to wreck. "You better be right about this."

Tech ignores the doubt and gets to work in the droid's circuit board. He works as quickly as possible, acutely aware that Hunter and Crosshair are undoubtedly being swarmed by this point.

"Hurry up," Wrecker warns. It is a statement more of worry for their brothers than a critique of Tech's programming speed. With a quick glance at his vambrace monitor, he slams the circuit board shut.

"Done. Let him go."

Wrecker and Echo back off just as the other droids launch a new attack at the site of their droid field surgery. They run for cover. Tech, on the other hand, situates himself on the shoulders of his new pet droid.

If Echo is the rancor rider, then he is the rancor tamer in this analogy.

The droid stands at its full height, nearly throwing Tech off on the way up, but he manages to press his thighs against its head to balance his weight. Shots from the other droids are whizzing past him in growing frequency. He is an easy target at this height and visibility. He needs to work quickly.

Taking control of the droid's weapons, he fires the live rounds back at the combatant droids. While their training blasters were useless against the thick durasteel plated training droids— as they were meant to be in a simulation— the live rounds actually do sufficient damage. He breezes past Echo and Wrecker's battle stations. Instructs his droid to punch the other droids that managed to get past his initial rain of fire. And as he weakens their defenses his brothers move in with vibroblades, perfectly placed stun shots, and raw strength.

A little bit of pride swells in his chest. The tides appear to be turning in their favor. If they can keep up this pace, their outcome will be favorable.

With his vantage point, Tech spots a droid sneaking up on Wrecker, who is otherwise occupied by beating another droid into submission.

"Wrecker, look alive," he warns. Wrecker lets out a sound of confusion before whirring around to find his next victim. It only takes an impressive suplex and Echo jabbing the droid in the neck for the danger to be adverted. But a new danger has begun to emerge.

Warning signs start flashing across Tech's vambrace screen. His rewriting job had to be hasty, which means he did not get the chance to secure every single circuit. His rush may prove to be their downfall as the connection flickers in and out. The droid sways beneath him and he fights to remain on its shoulders.

"I can't sustain the connection," he says through grit teeth. But with two more enemies stalking toward him he has no choice but to hope he can hold on through the end. His droid manages a weak strike against one of the attacking bots, and a few point blank shots in the face of the other. The connection suddenly re-establishes with full strength, and he grins with glee.

But his success is only temporary. His ride jolts backward as a droid from the upper tier manages to shoot right though its chest— right into the main circuitboard, Tech realizes with dismay. He can't do anything but watch as the droid gets hit a few more times and explodes beneath him. The surge of the blast sends Tech flying backward with much more force than would have been a problem had he simply fallen off the droid. His body hits the ground back-first, ripping the air from his lungs. And then he bounces. When he hits it again, the back of his head slams into the durasteel floor and his vision swims with black dots. Tech tries to blink through the cloudiness of his vision, barely aware of somebody yelling his name through the ringing in his ears.

Everything suddenly hurts. The back of his legs are hot and the smell of burnt plastoid is even more putrid than earlier. Considering how long the droid had been engaging in active battle, and the numerous shots straight to the power source... the heat of combustion had to have been fairly significant. Perhaps even sufficient enough to melt his armor, he realizes with a deep groan.

"Tech!" his name reaches him this time. A little clearer. Definitely Wrecker. He tries to lift his head but only succeeds in lobbing it to the side. But it's enough to see Wrecker crouched a few meters away. "Hold tight, buddy."

Tech can see the consistent shower of blaster shots still thick in the air. It is a full-on battlefield tucked within the confines of Kamino's training facility.

"I'm..." he starts to say, attempting to assure Wrecker that he's okay, but even the act of raising his arm and head is enough to send a jolt of pain down his back and limbs. His vision blurs again and he suddenly is whipped by exhaustion. His adrenaline has finally dropped off and it is pulling him down with it. Tech collapses back on to the ground, letting out a shaky sigh. "...not going anywhere."

He wants to help. But he runs the numbers in his head even as the aura of a migraine starts to dance before his eyes. With the number of droids and taking into account their individual firepower abilities paired with handicaps that come from limited programming and movement, Tech calculates that they have a 46% chance of success without his help.

They've won on lesser odds.

And when he takes into consideration the alternate scenario of him pushing through his current injuries and attempting to aid them in completing the simulation, their chance of success actually reduces to 41%. He knows his presence would distract the rest of his squad, or introduce a number of uncertain variables he is too tired to take into account at the moment.

Well, the math does not lie, he thinks, and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Wrecker watches Tech's body go limp and he seriously considers running at that last droid and tearing its head clean off with his bare hands. His youngest brother mutters something he can't really hear— whatever it is, his voice is pinched with pain. Not a good sign.

This needs to end now.

As though Crosshair was reading his mind, the sniper appears out of nowhere with his rifle at the ready. (Sometimes Wrecker wonders if he really can read minds. It wouldn't surprise him.)

"Wrecker, knife!" he yells. He has no idea what Cross is gonna do, but he unsheathes his knife and throws it in the air with a backspin. Crosshair shoots and strikes his knife mid-air, sending it blade first straight between the eyes of the last droid.

"Wow," he says in amazement.

There's a moment of quiet after the droid falls. Wrecker stands at his full height, still in awe that Cross managed to actually get that shot! He knows his brother's aim is impressive but wow— sometimes it's just next level.

Wrecker suddenly remembers Tech still lying next to the burnt leftovers of his pet droid. He and Echo rush to his side. Though Tech has pushed himself to a sitting position, Wrecker has enough experience with explosives and getting too close to them to notice how his brother refuses to let the back of his legs touch anything. On top of if, he saw the way his head bounced against the floor. Wrecker's no medic, but he knows a solid hit to the noggin when he sees one. Tech's usually sharp eyes are unfocused. The smears of carbon scoring across the lenses aren't helping, so he tries to wipe it away with his gloves. He only succeeds in making the smearing worse, but what worries him more is that his younger brother didn't react like he usually does when anyone tries to touch his goggles. Usually he jerks away, insists he can fix them himself. But now he's just... staring at nothing. It sends a spike of worry through Wrecker's large body.

As they attempt to pull him to his feet, he glances down at the state of Tech's armor. A shutter runs up his spine.

It's not good. He can't tell if the red that is dripping down Tech's boots and onto the floor is from his melted armor or blood... neither is a good sigh. And as soon as he and Echo get Tech to his feet, he immediately starts swaying to the side. Wrecker catches him under the arms, hearing a low hiss of pain and wondering if he should let him lie back again.

"Tech, are you okay?" Hunter asks as he and Crosshair make it to their position.

Tech's reply is very not-Tech like. A low groan. Not a single word. But he shifts his weight to his feet and gently pulls out of Wrecker's grasp to stand on his own.

"Techy you don't have to--"

"We're being watched," Crosshair interrupts. Wrecker looks up and realizes that Tarkin guy and Lama Su are still watching from the viewing gallery.

A part of him is glad they can't see the death stare on his face for shooting live rounds— live rounds!— at them.

Another part of him wants to give them a piece of his mind.

But as they disappear from sight, it becomes very obvious that Tech was only standing for their benefit. This time, his knees buckle and he falls forward. Hunter and Crosshair both lunge to catch him.

"He's out," Hunter says as they gently lower him to the ground. Now the overhead lights shine down on Tech's back and all of them freeze.

"Shit," Crosshair curses. The explosion melted his armor for sure. But what concerns them all is the mess of raw skin and melted blacks behind his knees and at his ankles. "Where the hell is medical?"

For some reason, when Tech awoke he expected to be staring at the ceiling of a med tent. It is a natural association to make in his newly conscious state. He suffered an injury due to an explosion, which is usually a scenario that is only possible in an active battlefield situation.

Hence, why seeing the sterile white ceiling of the Kamino ceiling sent him into a momentary panic. Did they cart me straight back to Kamino from the battlefield? Am I that injured? Does this mean I am being decommissioned?

He begins to try and sit up, but strong hands press down on his chest. It takes a few rounds of blinking to clear the tears that have welled up in his eyes. Echo and Crosshair stand on either side of his bed. Still in their armor. Both wide-eyed and looking quite exhausted as they attempt to calm him.

"Breathe, Tech," Echo says, demonstrating by drawing in his own large breath and slowly releasing it through his pursed lips. Tech imitates him until the tightness in his chest subsides. And he remembers.

A simulation. We were doing a training exercise. I was sitting atop the shoulders of a droid and... the droid combusted.

Right. Suddenly the numbness in his legs and the dull bite of a waning migraine make sense.

"Did we win at least?" Tech asks, looking between Crosshair and Echo.

"You don't remember?" The sniper asks carefully.

Tech remembers falling. A white hot pain. And then a lot of yelling and a lot of darkness.

"My current memory of the end of the exercise seems to be a bit... murky."

Echo and Crosshair exchange glances.

"We destroyed all the droids," Echo says finally.

"Wrecker was pleased about that part," the sniper mutters.

"So we won then. That's good." Both of them are silent for a long moment. Long enough that Tech replays their conversation up to that point wondering if he said something incorrect. From his point of view, there has been nothing that would offend either of them. So why they are acting so strange is beyond his understanding, unless they are withholding other context from while he was unconscious. "...isn't it?"

Finally Crosshair clears his throat. "None of us would consider you getting blown up a mission success, Tech."

"Well, technically, I didn't blow up, the droid—"

"Technically, nothing," Crosshair snaps at him. Echo glares at the sniper but doesn't exactly try to correct his outburst. "Either way, you got hurt."

Oh. So they are worried about his condition. For the first time since he's woken up, Tech cranes his head to look down at himself. He's in a thin, medical gown. No wonder he was feeling a bit of a draft. His bare legs are completely wrapped in thick bacta strips. That explains the numbness as well.

"How... bad?"

"Not as bad as it looks," Echo admits. "Mostly second-degree burns on your legs with a few small spots of third degree burns. No concussion and no grafts needed. Doc said after this round of bacta they'll rewrap and we can take you back to the barracks. It'll just feel like you have a bad sunburn for a few days."

That's good news at least. He does feel much better. Not in terrible pain like before, though Tech suspects the IV in his arm might have something to do with that.

"You passed out after the simulation," Crosshair says with a haunted stare.

"From the pain, I assume?"

"Also from the adrenaline dump." Echo shrugs. "We all came out of that with shaky legs."

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair mutters but Echo ignores him.

"None of us expected to fight for our lives today."

All of them can agree on that. Speaking of fighting for their lives, Tech realizes it's just the three of them. He looks to the beds at his left and right and find that they're empty. The memory of watching Wrecker's body crumble after getting shot flashes through Tech's mind and he tries to sit up again. This time Crosshair presses his hand against his back and helps him up.

"Where's Wrecker and Hunter? Are they alright?"

"Wrecker also had a burn on his chest, but they discharged him already. Hunter is with him," Echo smiles. "I think Wrecker said something about being hungry."

"Well, we didn't get much of a meal before this," Crosshair says bitterly.

Tech finally relaxes back into the pillow. His brothers are all safe, he's going to be discharged soon, and they completed their training exercise. It's a much better outcome than he expected from waking up in the med wing.

After his bacta is changed, Echo helps him into a fresh pair of blacks while Crosshair grabs his armor. The shirt is no problem, but the tight-fitting pants prove to be a more difficult feat.

"Maybe we can go get you a looser pair," Echo suggests as Tech has to literally bite down on his own lip to distract himself from the discomfort. Even with the barrier of bandages, the thick material feels scratchy against his sensitive skin. So bad that shivers run up his spine and he begins to feel a little nauseous.

"No," Tech pushes Echo's hand away. Honestly, the very thought of the pants having to peel back down his leg is worse than the idea of keeping them on. "I'll adjust." Echo seems hesitant but he doesn't fight him further. Tech gets his armor on-- sans the pieces that were melted in the explosion, of course. Those will require a trip to the armory to replace. (But he is not exactly jumping at the idea of restraining his swollen legs right now, anyway.)

"Ready?" Crosshair asks, though his facial expression looks as though he won't believe a word that comes out of Tech's mouth no matter what.

"Indeed."

They walk slowly back to the barracks, taking the long route to pick up Hunter and Wrecker from the caf. For the first few corridors, the scratchy feeling is agonizing. He has to walk with stiff legs to avoid bending his knees too much. It earns him his fair share of strange looks from the regs that pass, though they usually look at him like he was some sort of abomination, so it doesn't bother him. (Tech hypothesizes it has something to do with his goggles and how they stick out of his helmet. Makes him look quite different from even his own squad.)

But as they reach the caf, the stinging has begun to fade. His body is adjusting, as he predicted. The pain receptors in his legs are finally recognizing that it isn't a stimulus worth the trouble to continue griping about. He manages to bend his knees just enough that his stiffness isn't so obvious, more of a limp.

Wrecker's joyful tone rings out as soon as they grow near to the cafeteria. The largest of their brothers appears around the corner, his face brightening as he breaks into a run. "Tech!" Echo and Crosshair are quick to jump in and stop him from body slamming Tech.

"Easy, Wrecker, you know better than any of us how it feels to get blown up," Crosshair says before stepping aside for Wrecker to pull Tech into a bear hug. He sees Cross glance at Echo and then smirk. "Well, maybe that's not true. Echo here might have us all beat."

The former ARC trooper rolls his eyes. "Very funny."

Wrecker releases Tech. Somehow without aggravating his burns too badly. He is glad he opted to wear his helmet instead of carrying it. The mask hides his wince as pain shoots up his legs when Wrecker drops him back on the floor. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"As am I," he replies sheepishly. They start to make their way back toward their barracks. "Though I hardly blew up, it was merely a droid overheating."

"Did it have smoke and fire?" Wrecker asks.

"Minimal, but yes."

"Did it make a boom sound?"

"Well I'm not sure I would classify--"

"And did you get thrown really hard and burn your butt off?"

Tech sighs. "Perhaps."

Wrecker shrugs with a smug grin, looking around at the others. "You may be the expert on most things, Tech, but I know explosions. And that sounds a lot like an explosion to me."

Crosshair chuckles, his face in its usual sneer as he pats Tech's shoulder pauldron.

"It's alright," Echo whispers to him as Wrecker starts a loud tangent about getting shot at. "Means you get to be a part of the Got Blown Up Club. Meetings are bimonthly."

Not exactly a club Tech expected to be joining at a battle simulation. But then again, when do things ever go right for their squad in normal circumstances? He is curious to see what justification they had for such an irresponsible stunt. Tech has a sinking feeling Tarkin and Echo's claim that he hates clones has something to do with it.

#newly inducted member of the got blown up club #im a posting fiend right now apparently #not quite late night posting hours but close #the bad batch #tech #echo #wrecker #crosshair #hunter #tech whump #Kate writes #the bad batch b-side #1x01 aftermath

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

Text

The Leash (Part 8)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6200 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut! Updated again, yAAAY!!

DISCLAIMER! Next part of the split! a bit longer. and not as soon as I hoped, gosh dangerit. But! Hopefully I’ll get the next one out a lot quicker. This chapter is a little bit special as I tried to incorporate something of a real intensive care take into what is happening as well as my own... ideas about how they'd deal with it all. Let me know what you think! Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ______ It took him a moment to get his bearings again. Hashirama’s back was turned towards him, he was sitting in a chair by your side. The setting sun’s red light illuminated the room in warm hues Tobirama might have appreciated were it not for the sheer sense of dread he felt budding inside of him. The dreary exhaustion was swept away as he stepped closer slowly. Peripherally he picked up a weak pulse of chakra with sensor skills - nothing uncommon for him if he came close enough to a source. Usually he had to actively tap into his sensory skills in order to pick anything up, but if the signal was strong enough, it almost forced itself upon him. Right now, it most likely was your body. As Tobirama rounded the bed he saw your face: pale - paler than before, he was sure - and sweaty. You were taking shallow, hushed breaths while the odd whimper escaped your lips every now and then. Truth be told, Tobirama only remembered you trashing and writhing the last time the withdrawal had set in - now, you simply squirmed, sometimes.

Your expression was far from peaceful though. It was a grimace of sheer pain. Jaw taut, a frown etched onto your forehead and the eyes so tightly, your skin was in wrinkles.

Hashirama was holding your hand, his eyes were closed. An epitome of calmness next to your misery. Tobirama didn’t want to disturb his concentration lest he’d cause you even more torment so for a moment, he stood by the other side of the bed, helplessly witnessing your suffering. The dread had become the painfully familiar constriction of his chest again, every beat of his heart stabbed as he could only let his shoulders hang low.

It was wrong. He should never have agreed to let you suffer like this. The promise you had him make was a hollow echo in his ears. You probably wouldn’t want him to berate himself like this. But how couldn’t he? How couldn't he, when this was the result of the decision? Of course, the cruel logic behind this was clear to him - painfully so.

But if these past few days had been anything but logical every so often.

Hashirama cleared his throat, slowly. “Tobirama,” he greeted, quietly. He didn’t open his eyes.

Tobirama jumped at the opportunity. “How is she?”, he demanded swiftly, keeping his voice low but making no effort to stow back on the urgency.

Hashirama didn’t respond directly, which only served to irritate Tobirama slightly. “It’s difficult,” he began finally, “Initially we were able to stave off the brunt of the withdrawal by sealing her chakra away,” Tobirama’s blood near froze in his veins, his eyes widened slightly, “But it’s been picking up since. Her blood pressure has been dropping and I’ve been noticing signs of inflammation primarily along her blood vessels but also the heart and lungs." He paused momentarily, uttering a hum of ponder. "The reaction overall is similar to sepsis at this point. Likely the body trying to clear out the leash physically now that her chakra can't interact with it anymore.”

Tobirama couldn’t help himself now. He had to know - to see - with a fine tremor in his hand and a raspy breath he took a step closer to grasp the blanket that covered you and pull it lower, very slowly. As lightly as he could. You stirred as the cloth moved, a feeble shudder of your weak body, but no more. On your chest he could already make out the ink markings of the chakra seal on your bare chest. The sight stole alone his breath momentarily. He violently swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He had believed seeing you weak, tortured, a shadow of your former self - that was one of the worst parts about all of this - he had been wrong.

This. This was worse. It all painted a new horrible picture for what it implied.

There were more seals on your glistening skin - both of your arms and your heart, each of them with a parchment in their center that had been soaked in herbs whose smell each he knew well. Tobirama recognized these: one was stabilising your cardiovascular system both through the seal’s effect itself but also by letting the herbal agent be applied transdermally. The fact you already bore it - the Ione on your heart to make it pump stronger - was a grim sign. The other two were strong pain and sedation medications. Were anyone other than his brother here, he’d probably have refused to wait any longer with the next dose.

He pulled the blanket back up again and crossed his arms in front of his chest as if that helped to reinforce his broken, guilty resolve about all this. “Tell me more,” he requested firmly, eyes never leaving your gaunt face now. This is the only way, he kept telling himself.

“Mito and I drew the chakra seal. It is temporary and can be opened and closed, I’ll show you later. When Y/n gets the next dose and is in her lucid phase, we can open it again for her comfort,” Hashirama consoled quickly. Whether or not he had taken note of what Tobirama had done, he didn’t care right now. It was a slight relief. Maybe you hadn’t felt any of it. Maybe.

“She’s rather still, anija,” Tobirama whispered, now with more worry and firmness. "You sedated her?"

His brother hummed affirmatively. “We … were forced to, indeed.” The hesitance was clear in his tone.

“I see.” Tobirama’s in turn was grave. His next question he blurted out before he was even sure whether he wanted to know the answer. Who was he kidding? Of course he did. “I surmise otherwise, she wouldn’t be still enough to be monitored like this,” to put it lightly. He didn’t have the stomach right now to utter: Otherwise you’d be screaming from the top of your lungs and writhing like you were on fire.

Just like the last time you had been in withdrawal.

Just like the prisoners had explained.

Hashirama appeared to be grateful for Tobirama’s rare show of more neutral words. “You are correct.” The admission didn’t hurt any less for it.

“What about the other seals?” Tobirama demanded then, though of course Hashirama would know that Tobirama was aware of what they did. What he really wanted to know was how bad off you were. For all Tobirama knew, you might be carrying more of those already.

“I was forced to draw these a bit ago as the physical symptoms started to kick in worse again,” he replied evenly. “I first tried oral medication, but the effect was too weak. And administering it was ineffective.”

By ineffective, he meant impossible. You probably quite violently refused anything. Tobirama’s eyes widened slightly at the implication though. It meant your condition was worse enough that without these seals - the seal on your heart to support your cardiovascular system, really - you’d most likely be teetering on the brink of death than life. His hands bunched the fabric of his black shirt. “Exactly how much support does she need right now?” he demanded now, still not daring to step closer.

Hashirama gave a low sigh, but still did not open his eyes nor move his hand from yours. “It’s bearable. Due to the seal, the disruption is impairing her dormant chakra only, but it is not fighting back of course. The symptoms are being caused by her body’s physical reaction which we’re controlling with the medication and the other seals, for now. I’m simply monitoring. It’s just the three seals, Tobirama.”

He was not calmed down at all. “Still, you’ve already been forced to draw this to improve her cardiovascular situation.” Tobirama stated flatly, the neutral kindness gone. He started to paint a pretty dismal picture of your situation without even having examined you already.

Hashirama noticed, too. “And we can still increase the support of these seals. The fever is being kept in check, and while I admit her body is reacting physically, for now it is mostly symptomatic of the withdrawal rather than an actual damaging inflammatory reaction. I’d wager we even have a little bit more time before we have to give her the next dose of the leash.”

It should have served to put him at ease. And yet - “As if that should be our only concern,” Tobirama shot back, voice suddenly caustic. Your pained grimace was testament to the fact you were walking through hell once more and here he was, deliberating how long he could prolong it.

His stomach roiled as his breathing became jittery again. He had to close his eyes lest his brother witnessed his possibly glistening eyes; or at the very least the obvious pain in his glance. It wasn't as though he wanted to hide it - he just needed to be alone with it.

Hashirama was a very understanding person, after all.

And because of that he picked up on it nonetheless. “Y/n wanted this, brother.” It was all he said. Tobirama didn’t want to hear anything, anyway. There was nothing anyone could say about all of this.

Another concern hit him then, distancing himself quickly from the biting cynicism that rose up inside of him. “What about the amount of chakra overload? The seals will aggravate that,” he subconsciously stepped closer, more and more wishing to just see for himself how you really fared. Nonetheless his tone was demanding again.

“That is correct,” Hashirama agreed quickly, but calmly. “And I won’t lie, we are pushing the limit here. But given our options, it is the safest route. It is manageable right now however.”

Tobirama frowned and wondered if he truly did agree with that statement. Following blindly - even his brother’s no doubt superior medical expertise - just wasn’t in him. Especially when it concerned you. “Overload symptoms would be similar to what she is experiencing now, though," he countered tersely.

Hashirama inhaled deeply. “Which is why we’ll need to continue to watch carefully, even after she gets the dose. It’s not a perfect solution, but so far it’s working. If it happens to become too intense, then we know to cut the interval shorter again to lessen the needed seals.”

The words caused a sudden surge of ire through his dismal demeanor. All of this sounded more like experimentation rather than a real course of action. Not that his brother could know any better, but it still didn’t make him appreciate it any more. He forcibly took deep breaths in order to not snap again, but the ire was a welcome distraction from the utter despair that had taken over.

Hashirama opened his eyes then finally and his dark eyes gave him a warm glance. Tobirama instantly frowned, concerned it may hamper with his focus - but before he could speak, his brother did. “Take a seat, look for yourself. I know you want to.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Tobirama grabbed one of the chairs swiftly and placed it on the other side of your bed, taking a seat then. Gingerly, he took your hand in his and closed his eyes to let his chakra meet your network and begin to examine you.

It was a mess. The first thing he noticed was the complete absence of a chakra flow - it was frozen in its tracks. And while before there certainly had been the many injuries you had yet to properly recover from, now there was a war raging in your body. Manageable. That was the word Hashirama had used. Tobirama himself would not go beyond that, if even. There was hardly a part of yourself not affected by all this; anywhere he looked he found signs of inflammation, microscopic injury in the tissue that was attacked, torn down and at the same time, rebuilt. The picture was similar to sepsis, as his brother had said indeed: your own body’s reaction to the leash was, ultimately, killing you. The leash itself seemed to cause damage on its own, but it was minor compared to the damages your own body was doing to yourself by trying to fend it off. At this point it was just a matter of time until that got too bad. After all, it already had begun to cause a capillary leak on a scale that required outward support to keep your blood pressure up. Your heart rate was elevated for compensation, and your organs each showed signs of damage due to said leak as well as the inflammation itself.

His focus needed to be extremely sharp to even make out traces of the leash in the rush of your frantically beating heart - intense scrutiny that surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you. He withdrew quickly. Tobirama knew the leash would be latched - branded, almost - to your blood at this point. That easily explained why no part of your body was spared - just like in a real sepsis. Though he noticed the heart and lungs seemed to be affected more, too, as Hashirama had mentioned - examining them closer, he found the reaction here was particularly bad. Your lungs, as the extremely thin tissue of the alveoles were extremely affected by this - again, just like in sepsis. It was a matter of time until breathing problems would ensure. Your heart, as it strained to fight for a stable blood pressure while being inadequately perfused, suffering tissue damage on a microscopic scale, for now. At the very least, this might affect you immediately - but Tobirama found none of these damages couldn’t be healed, either.

Just not now.

Frankly, he hadn’t expected to feel better after this, exactly. However to witness the battle that was going on inside of you - one you were losing, ultimately, always - it added a new dimension to the sorrow and heartache he was feeling. Even though right now he felt the hum of the seals that had been painted on you and their effects - strengthening you - he felt nothing but helplessness to bear witness to your suffer firsthand and do nothing but to figure out how to prolong it. It didn’t just hurt his heart - it wrenched it around, tore at it. He didn’t want to do this.

Promise me.

He had promised you.

With a broken sigh, he withdrew and slumped back in the chair, eyes on your gaunt, pained face. His vision was blurry.

“Tobirama,” Hashirama’s voice startled him. With this dismal sight and the lingering extortion from his shadow clone stunt, which his body certainly had not forgotten, concentration was becoming touch and go as his thoughts circled in dark places. “The sedative will begin to wear off, soon. For the next dose, I’d rather she be more awake to ensure she can swallow it properly.”

Tobirama closed his eyes and already knew how this would go down. Another one for the list of things he’ll have a hard time forgiving himself. But he had to. He had to. Slowly, he rubbed a palm over his face. “Very well,” he replied, seeing reason in this too, of course.

They sat in silence for another two hours, almost. During the time, your writhing had picked up slowly - from a flex of your legs’ or arms’ muscles to weak movement. Slowly but surely sounds were picking up too - huffs or grunts at first, but later on there were quiet groans and incoherent mumbles mixed in. You never opened your eyes. Hashirama ended up increasing the heart’s seal’s intensity somewhat, all of which Tobirama watched while he monitored you diligently. He felt absolutely crushed in every sense - physically, emotionally, mentally. But sleep never came to his mind. The least he could do was be here with you, even if you might not notice it. But if anything were to happen - he’d be here. He’d sleep when you did. A little. And then continue to work once his condition allowed it again.

“It’s time,” Hashirama announced finally. “Her blood pressure has been sinking continuously and the damage that is caused by the withdrawal ultimately is becoming too intense now. I don’t want to push her beyond this.”

What a relief. Tobirama already had procured the next dose of the leash previously. Administering it now wouldn’t be as simple as the last times, however. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, as did Hashirama.

“Y/n,” Tobirama spoke softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Can you hear me?” It was worth a try. Though he had little hope for it.

And he was right. Your reaction was lackluster, only a low groan as your head trashed to the other side.

“I’ll open her jaw,” Tobirama instructed his brother, numb now. Devoid of any emotion but to simply do this swiftly. “Hold her head.” Hashirama nodded and already seized each side of it with his hands, which you responded to by uttering yet another tormented moan.

Tobirama’s heart was hammering in his chest again - at this point he had just waited for that to happen, and his breathing was nearly as raspy as yours when he took another step closer to seize your jaw in the dreadfully familiar way again. Once more utter horror overcame him for having to do this to you. It grew worse when he felt how you were trying to trash your head to the side, but your movement was pitiful at best. “It’ll be better soon, Y/n, I promise,” he whispered brokenly, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

Tobirama was tormented by how easy, compared to last time, the pressure behind your mandibular bone made it protrude, enabling him to shift the grip slightly to force your mouth more open with his thumb on your chin. A shiver ran down his spine. The hand that held the vial containing the leash shook slightly. You protested louder in what definitely was an even more painful groan, a sweaty, trembling hand reaching for Tobirama’s on your jaw. “Don’t,” he pleaded instantly, desperately.

Don’t make it worse.

Swiftly, he poured the leash into your mouth and shut it quickly before you had a chance to cough it back up. With pressure on your cricoid, the constriction of your airway was forcing you to swallow it before the breathing trouble became too uncomfortable. It was brutal, Tobirama knew. But it was the safest way to ensure you really drank all of this. Immediately, he and Hashirama withdrew from you.

You stilled completely.

Time for the next act of this nightmare, whose end was approaching way too fast and yet not fast enough.

_______

As per usual, Tobirama ensured you’d sleep for the terrible psychotropic effects of the drug. However Hashirama noted it was better to use a sedative this time, as they needed to avoid any use of chakra on your strained body for now. He agreed reluctantly - by this point he knew it couldn’t interfere with the leash’s effect, in any way. Besides, Hashirama also stated he needed to monitor you further - especially watch for signs of chakra overload as well as controlling the seals. Likely, your cardiovascular situation will improve enough to be stable on your own.

Tobirama nearly shouted at his brother when he used the word ‘likely’. If he thought it was just likely then they had gone too far. And just as likely Tobirama felt like smacking his brother for sheer stupidity right then. He didn’t of course, ultimately and begrudgingly yielded to his brother's expertise. However it didn't stop him from sternly reminding him about how fragile and susceptible your mind was due to every sensation heightened -

"Be careful," he warned, rather, threatened. "Do not agonize her unnecessarily."

Hashirama rolled his eyes. "I'm doing what I have to. No more and no less, brother." Despite everything, he remained calm.

It provided little comfort, but he saw no option but to add it to the list of necessary things they had to do to you. Tobirama’s frustration was palpable at this point.

Nonetheless, all of this just showed it was time to rest, as much as he hated it. Sleep was inconvenient, but needed alas. And once more he found himself at your shared home, alone. Luckily enough, the exhaustion was great enough to claim him quickly after he had laid down, but the forlorn feeling was seeping through every crack. With every passing day, this house felt colder and lonelier. The burden he carried strained him to a point where numbness was spreading inside of him. He felt spent, at the end of his wits. His sleep was dead, dreamless.

And a little longer than he wanted it to be. He woke again with a startle - his gaze sought out the clock mounted on the wall right away. It was somewhat past midnight. Damn. You should be awake by now. He rubbed a hand over his face to wipe away the last traces of sleep before he washed himself, got dressed and teleported to your room right away.

_______

The withdrawal was one of the worst things you had ever gone through. It easily was on par with some of the torture you had suffered.

It had begun as you remembered it - you became weaker with each passing minute. Then came the dizziness. Your consciousness slipped in and out. An ache settled into your bones, your muscles, your nerves, that was all too familiar - dim, at first, but it increased more and more. It wasn’t long before it felt like molten lava rolled through your veins, alongside your nerves, through your lungs with every breath you took - you were being burned out from the inside slowly, cruelly. Split apart and yet not dying.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to writhe away, shake it off, rip your skin off, do anything - but you couldn’t. Something held you suspended in darkness with proverbial chains winding around you tightly, everything else was black nothingness. Nobody to hear your screams, nobody aware of your agony - all by yourself in a hell that wasn’t ending. At first, you were trying to tell yourself this was what you wanted: you had to give Tobirama - yourself - more time. Otherwise they’d run out of this damn murder drug before they could recreate it. But this? This wasn’t worth living, was it?

Had the chains around you not seized your throat, you’d have begged for someone to kill you. End your misery.

I’m sorry, Tobirama.

Forgive me.

You circled around these two sentences over and over again while the torture wasn’t ending.

Peripherally, you had been aware - at first, when the withdrawal had begun to set in - of someone’s chakra inside of you - Hashirama, you realised, dimly. It had made sense. Tobirama would need to work. Try as much as you wanted to, but you couldn’t work around the dizziness and the pain that had been roaring through your systems at that point already. And just as lightly you realised something was done to you - but no more you could distinguish what it was. It eased the pain, somewhat. Briefly. You wanted to thank him yet couldn’t form words; either it was exhaustion or another side effect of the withdrawal. Were it not for your dreary state you knew you’d be overrun by panic due to the helplessness. You simply had to trust those around you.

But that had gone out of the window piece by piece as the symptoms became worse and worse. You felt your grip on yourself losing as pain became your only reality.

Suddenly though, it was all over. The pain was gone as though it had never existed. You nearly screamed in joy.

And another terribly familiar sensation kicked in.

The nightmares.

They had given you the next dose of the leash - you had lived, you dimly realised. Part of you wanted to cheer, but of course you wouldn’t get to do that. With all you had just gone through, this time around, the bizarre horror trips you suffered from during the first phase of the leash would gladly take inspiration from now.

But the usually crystal clear scenarios were muddled images at best - red hot iron being pressed into your flesh agonisingly slowly. Darkness, loneliness. It still was frightening - but not as precise as it usually was. Perhaps the leash had done permanent damage to your brain. Who knew. In a twisted, grotesque way you were thankful.

Your perception of pain had become extremely skewed.

Someone else was lingering, though. A presence. They were watching you - you knew - and you didn’t like it. Nothing came from them, but you knew better than that. Presences like this greatly unnerved you. It couldn’t mean anything good.

Soon, you, the nightmares, everything - faded into dull sensations only. After that, a warm nothingness overtook you and you finally were allowed to sleep.

When you opened your eyes again, the room was dimly lit by the nightstand’s lamp. Someone was touching your hand - you turned your head slightly to find Hashirama next to you. Still, you had blink several times before you truly recognized him; truth be told you felt like a giant rock had rolled over you. Distantly you were aware of the fact he was monitoring you - his chakra was but a shadow in your system, so light, almost unnoticeable. Something else was bothering you though - but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Missing - something was missing. Quickly, you realised what it was: your chakra. You couldn’t feel your chakra at all - the sluggish, tardy sensation it had become was gone.

Instantly, panic settled in and your breathing picked up. “I- I can’t,” you began, voice raspy. Moving your jaw was as though you had to force it through jelly or something equally gooey, the muscle wouldn’t quite obey you. But that didn’t matter. Your chakra - where was your chakra? You wanted to get up, but your arms wouldn’t obey you - your pulse picked up rapidly and breathing was getting difficult again.

Hashirama shook his head, “We had to seal it off, don’t worry,” he explained swiftly, already pulling the blanket down with his free hand. In utter horror you noticed there were seals drawn not just on your chest but your arms as well. Your heartbeat was through the roof by now as your panicked gaze kept looking everywhere. He put his thumb, index and middle finger right on your sternum where the center of what you recognized belatedly was a rather complex chakra seal was located. His fingertips glowed for a moment, then he twisted his wrist.

A second later, your beloved, useless chakra was back.

You gulped and swallowed past the lump in your throat, trying to even out your breaths again. He put the blanket back over you again and regarded you with a smile, though you could easily tell his warm gaze was burdened with worry. Unlike Tobirama, Hashirama wore his moods on his sleeve. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked a couple times again, still reeling from the sudden burst of panic. Then, after a deep breath, “I’ve… been better.” To put it lightly.

He frowned sympathetically. “No doubt about it.”

You didn’t want to wait any longer. “How long… how long did we gain?”, you desperately hoped this exercise had been worth something. At all.

His smile became more mirthful. “Six hours.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Frankly, you were unsure if you should be happy or horrified by that. To you, it had felt like an eternity. And yet six hours was a huge gain on what the interval had been before. A good result. The suffering - had been worth something. Your gaze wandered to the ceiling, nodding to yourself slowly. Trying to convince yourself of this at least.

“Y/n,” Hashirama began again, now more somberly. “I won’t lie to you. I don’t know how long we can keep this up. It took a toll on you, which I am sure you are feeling right now.”

“You can say that again,” you croaked weakly, yet again testing the movement in your legs. Your toes wiggled a little. It was an achievement. Then you sighed and in what pretty much was a snap decision, you spoke up again. “Promise not to tell Tobirama,” you muttered, already feeling guilt taking a stab at your heart.

Hashirama’s frown deepened. “Promise.”

“The withdrawal is… All of this - it’s about one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.” you shared, no more than a mere, haunted whisper. You couldn’t look at Hashirama. “And by now, I think I’ve experienced a lot.”

Hashirama hummed deeply.

“I don’t want Tobirama to know that. He will refuse to keep stretching the interval, b-but-”

“You wanted to say it.” Hashirama finished your sentence before your voice broke. “It’s alright.” He squeezed your hand lightly. “I’d wager he knows, truth be told.”

A sob broke past your tightly squeezed lips, but you nodded. Of course he’d know. You couldn’t imagine him not checking in while all of it had happened. Most likely some of your plight had gone through to the outside. And the first withdrawal had been a harrowing experience for all of them.

“You’re stable, though,” he spoke up again in a less grieved tone. “It’s no surprise you’re feeling rather weak right now. The withdrawal is quite… violent towards the body.”

“So long as it’s worth… as it’s worth all this,” you gulped, nodding. To yourself, mostly.

Hashirama smiled warmly again. “The time gained is invaluable. I’m afraid we can’t do much to heal you, yet, though.”

Just as you wanted to reply you witnessed a flicker in the shadows near the door. That had stopped startling you a long time ago - well, when you weren’t in the middle of a breakdown, that is. You couldn’t help but smile with how Tobirama lurched over instantly. His white hair was tousled, glistening even - he must've fallen out of bed into the bathroom and then teleported right over. A quaint sight - the man was punctual, sharp and kept in perfect shape.

Hashirama regarded him with raised eyebrows as he stood by the other side of your bed, mustering you through narrowly-lidded eyes with a distressed expression. He already took a breath to speak up, but you beat him to it with a quip that’d surely answer his question. “That’s fine Hashirama, I won’t be able to get up either way and Tobirama won’t need to lecture me about moving too much anymore.”

Tobirama shut his mouth immediately and scrunched his face like he had just been forced to drink some extremely bitter tea and regarded you with a look as if you had been the one to make said tea. Already, he crossed his arms. For a hot second, you worried you had gone too far - doing this in a high stress situation like this always carried a risk. But Tobirama knew you. And you knew him.

“You’re doing better.” He simply stated then, unimpressed, just raising an eyebrow.

Hashirama raised his arm to hide his face with his sleeve slightly as a chuckle shook him.

Tobirama’s hawk-like stare shot to his brother briefly before it settled back on you. “Enlighten me with some context, maybe?”, he then demanded, only slightly exasperated. He was holding back, you knew.

“I just explained the toll the withdrawal has taken on Y/n to her,” Hashirama supplied, having regained his composure again.

Tobirama regarded him with a concerned look then instantly, dropping the unnerved demeanour. “Toll?”

“Exhaustion mostly, Tobirama,” you decided to intervene before he worked himself up more. The way he gripped his black shirt again was telltale. “I can’t do more than wiggle my toes. And my fingers, maybe.” You tentatively tried it out - they stretched just fine. “What a relief,” you murmured ironically.

Tobirama’s frown grew softer again as he watched you test your limits and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. “Y/n,” he whispered, and you could feel how much more he wanted to say.

Hashirama cleared his throat again. “We’ve painted four seals on you, in total,” he spoke up again, catching your attention immediately as he then explained how they strengthened your heart and blood pressure. “Now that you’re awake again I’ve brought down the support from them to a very low level because you’re doing so well. The exhaustion is from the immediate reaction mostly. I won’t deny, you did suffer damages there - but none of them great enough to warrant additional concern.” His gaze wandered to his brother while he spoke, well aware he was listening just as intently. If not more. Tobirama’s frown had deepened again.

You nodded. Medical jutsu were really not your forte, but you did know quite a handful of seals and could already guess as to how these worked. Which also told you they had been scraping the proverbial barrel here: normally, these things would be easily managed using chakra based methods, normally. “I surmise you’re using seals because I’m constantly teetering on the edge of chakra overload still with how I keep getting additional… problems…”

Tobirama snorted. “Some of which you wouldn’t have if you rested.” Hashirama chuckled again, this time at your expense. You took it in stride. Tobirama continued then. “You’re right though. We must avoid it as much as possible.” Hashirama nodded to that.

“Ultimately, should your condition worsen during withdrawal, we’ll have to overstep that boundary. But I’m very much trying to avoid it. It’s additional stress you don’t need right now.” He did sound quite serious about it. You gulped. Chakra overload was nothing to sneeze at.

But then again you felt like you had just about dipped into every kind of torment available as of now. What’s one more?

Hashirama ended his monitoring then and gently slipped away, both inwardly and outwardly. “I’ll get some rest now. You’re stable. And while I know Tobirama is very, ah, adamant about this-”

“Anija,” the growl came instantly.

“-you really need to get as much rest as you can. We’ll see to support you more using any non-chakra based means which is going to entail some medications. I’ll… see you soon again,” he finished with a sorrowful smile that managed to soothe you and at the same time filled you with dread.

You swallowed. “Thank you, Hashirama.”

He nodded and left the room quietly.

Tobirama sat down on the side of your bed as soon as he had shut the door, taking your hand in his and stroking your skin gently with his thumb. “How are you really doing, Y/n?”, he inquired, the timbre of his voice gentle enough to let his concern truly show.

You gave him a brave smile. “I’ll manage, Tobi,” that, you knew. You knew you had to. Though you felt like breaking into tears when you said it.

You didn’t fool him for one second. His breath caught momentarily; his grip became firmer and you felt his chakra graze over your network, covering it warmly. You couldn’t help but sigh contently when he did; the sensation never failed to comfort you. But his expression remained distraught, to say the least. He knew you well enough - what your avoidant answer meant. It was kindness not to inquire further. And maybe protection, too. You didn’t want to speak more about this. Or think of it.

It’d come around again soon enough.

“You’re not taking good care of yourself,” you chided then softly. “I’d ruffle your obviously wet hair, but I can’t right now.” You cracked a weak smile.

He clicked his tongue. “It’s been a pretty intense day, Y/n,” he countered evenly.

“I think I can count the days you left the house in such a hurry on one hand, Tobi,” you replied, not bothering to keep the sorrow down any longer. It saddened you to see how all this took its toll on him - your problems, your condition. Of course you’d do the same for him in a heartbeat - and just as well, you were aware what your sight made him feel. But it just hurt.

His eyebrow arched up again slowly. “When I’ve got such urgent business to tend to, I will run the risk of being seen with wet hair, but I’ll face it bravely,” he countered sarcastically, eliciting a little chuckle from you. There was no changing his mind anyway. His lips drew into a lopsided smile of his own, too.

Finally, you sighed quietly. “Don’t let me keep you, then.” You dreaded being alone. But it couldn’t be helped.

His smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed again. “I can stay, Y/n.”

“No, you can’t,” you replied with more resolve, “Because then all the time we gained won’t matter. Soon. Just a bit longer.” You weren’t sure if you were telling him or yourself that.

He must’ve picked up on it, because his other hand grasped your arm too and stroked over your skin gently while his gaze had turned decidedly sorrowful. “I’ll be back soon to check on you,” he promised quietly, but you could guess on the fierceness behind that. It eased your budding sense of dread, somewhat.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “Can you…,” you swallowed, blinking. The request made you feel so silly - shameful, even. But you couldn’t help it.

He tilted his head when you didn’t finish your sentence. “Yes…?”

“Can you please leave the light on? And… don’t close the curtains,” you finally whimpered meekly, avoiding eye-contact now. This alone was a confession to what you could only perceive as weakness due to your recent trauma, but you couldn’t deny how much you needed it right now.

Tobirama’s mien turned more sorrowful, but he nodded. “Of course, Y/n.” He sat on the side of the bed a moment longer and simply shared your connection - a gesture you were immeasurably grateful for. It was you who ultimately nodded and decided it was time he left - despite the ungodly hour.

“C’mon, then.” You tried another brave smile. _____ author’s notes: Some explanations: 'cardiovascular' means pertaining to the heart and the blood vessels, i.e. blood pressure and essentially keeping the body's organs supplied with nutrients, and more immediately important, oxygen. 'sepsis' is a real thing! it's when the body's own immune system causes such a strong reaction in the whole body to an infection it starts to damage its own organs. since reader isn't infected, it's 'like' sepsis. there are also real life complications of different diseases that can, in fact, cause a sepsis-like condition! 'capillary leak' is something that ties in directly to sepsis. because of the body's immune response, the blood vessels start to 'leak' fluids into surrounding tissue. every had an infected body part? splinter in your toe, hand? got red, big, swollen? well, that's the same thing. it's not good when the body does it everywhere! but it does make sense because by 'opening' the capillaries, the white blood cells can get out and do their job in the tissue. hooo boy, that was a lot more than i ever thought i'd explain, oopz. thank you so much for reading as always!!!

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Always Close By

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.1k hehe kinda long

Summary: In which even the mightiest of superheroes aren’t immune to sickness, and when Steve falls ill, you end up babysitting him.

Warnings: none, just steve being a big baby ahaha

Sleep had never really come easily to you. Your insomnia had been a consistent issue since before you first joined the Avengers, so days like these in which you mindlessly wandered around the compound downing two or three cups of coffee and eating granola bars weren't uncommon.

You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night yet for some reason, weren't feeling drowsy like you usually did when you stayed up. This time Sam and Bucky were also awake with you, and the three of you switched between playing Mario Kart and Animal Crossing to kill time.

One by one the rest of the team began to wake up and you and Wanda decided to start preparing breakfast. After everyone had finished eating you'd noticed Steve still hadn't come out, and decided to go check up on him.

"Steve?" you knocked carefully on his bedroom door as to not disturb him. "It's time for breakfast."

You didn't get a proper reply but heard a light groan in response, deciding to go inside after several more attempts.

He was buried under his covers, forehead glistening with a cold sweat and his dirty-blonde hair disheveled. When he looked up to meet your gaze you noticed his cheeks were flushed a bright red from heat, and were immediately concerned at the sight.

"Hey," you said softly, carefully approaching him. "You okay?"

Steve just shivered and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Don't know."

You brought a palm up to his forehead and were alarmed by how hot it felt, hissing at his feverishness as you pulled your hand back. "You're burning up."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he chuckled, but his laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I'm, just, fine."

"You're coming down with a fever," you stated. "I thought you couldn't get sick."

"Apparently, I can," he coughed, "But it's just a simple flu. I'll be back to normal before you know it. We have our weekly sparring showdown tonight, right? I can't miss out on that."

Despite the calm tone in his voice, you still weren't convinced. The thermometer read a whopping 105.6 degrees and from what you knew, that meant you had to get medical help right away.

"No, you're not. Your body temperature is abnormally high. You're staying in bed," you ordered, then sighed. It was hard not to go soft at those puppy dog eyes, but you knew denying him from being able to do any strenuous physical activity was for the best.

"Can you please speak more quietly," Steve whispered, "I have a migraine."

"I'm sorry," you were quick to lower your voice, "hey...how did this even happen to you? Did you eat anything weird?"

"Food poisoning?"

"No, that can't be. We all ate takeout together for dinner last...shit, shawarma." Your eyes widened in realization. "Dammit, it is."

"Language," he said weakly.

"You're staying in bed for today, alright?" you gave him a stern look.

"I'm not completely disabled, I can stand. Just let me go get some breakfast and afterwards I'll come right back to bed."

"Fine."

You gripped his forearm to help him stand up and his arm immediately went around your waist. You weren't sure whether the heat radiating off him was from his fever or from the way he generally made you feel. Brushing the thought off, you helped him to the kitchen.

"Damn, Cap. What happened?" Sam raised a brow at his friend's appearance.

"I think Tony poisoned him," you shot the billionaire a death glare. "I knew something was up with that shawarma place."

"Then how come none of us are sick?" Tony questioned. "We all had the same thing."

"No, we didn't. Steve and I were the only ones who specifically ordered the chicken shawarma. You guys took kebabs."

"Then why aren't you sick?"

"I don't know."

Steve pulled up a chair to the kitchen island, immediately laying his head on the cool marble counter and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Cap, you think you can try and stomach this? You need to eat or your condition will get worse," Pepper urged as she pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and French toast towards the super-soldier. He pulled himself back up into a sitting position and took a bite out of his toast, but quickly set it down after a wave of nausea washed over his body and he bit back a gag.

He tried to stand up and stumbled, but you and Bruce were quick to catch him by his shoulders.

"Cap? Are you okay?" the scientist asked gently. "Steve."

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping your waist tightly as he grew lightheaded, the world around him beginning to spin rapidly.

You lowered his head onto your lap as Wanda gave you a cold towel, and you pressed it to his sweaty forehead as you ran your other hand through his hair.

"We should get him back to his room, then I'll go get the treatments," Bruce explained as you tried to pull him back up, which was a lot harder than it seemed. "Then we'll figure it out from there."

"Jeez, how heavy are you," you said as you tried helping him to his feet. "I swear you're twice my weight..."

"172," he replied plainly.

"Feels a lot heavier than that. Thought you were at least 200 with all that broad muscle," you grunted as Bucky came forward to help you, and Steve slung his arms around both your shoulders.

Once you led him to his room, Steve lazily crawled back into bed and you pulled the covers over him. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, breathing steadier than before though it still sounded somewhat plugged.

“You sure you’re okay staying here with him?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “If you’re tired too, I can step in if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But thanks,” you yawned, waving him off. “Now go and...kick Sam’s ass in Mario Kart so I can face off against you later.”

“You got it,” he ruffled your hair before leaving the room.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, and sighed. 9:17.

I know I had a workout video scheduled to be posted, guys, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to have it up today, you typed out a quick message to your Twitter. Steve’s sick and I’m having to take care of him. Hope you all understand <3

Almost immediately, the replies came flooding in.

Awww we love a supportive teammate/gf

Couple goals uwu

Get better soon, Cap!

You smiled to yourself, setting your phone on Steve’s nightstand and running your hand through his hair again. He did look rather peaceful while asleep - and not to mention, flawless, with a face looking like it was sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Times in which you saw him in a state like this were extremely rare, so you treasured every little moment you got. Between co-commanding missions with you, filing reports, and countless meetings with SHIELD officials (you let him doodle on your hand as he half-listened to the lectures), he was restless.

You didn’t know when or how you fell asleep, but when you woke up streams of bright light were filtering in through the windows, the sun high in the sky. You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed, gently laying Steve’s head against his pillow before standing up and shuffling down the hall to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” you rubbed your eyes with your sweater’s sleeve. “How long was I out for?”

“1:45. You want lunch? You hardly ate in the morning,” Rhodey pushed a plate towards you. “You’ve been asleep for roughly four hours, Y/N.”

You pulled your phone out again - the weather outside was apparently a breezy 68 degrees. The fact that it wasn’t even hot outside, but Steve was sweating profusely, made you concerned.

You let out a satisfied sigh as you bit into the sandwich (courtesy of Vision’s cooking), practically inhaling it in just a couple of bites. “Did any of you guys come down with symptoms...?”

“No, but you’ve been exposed so I’d advise that you take this,” Bruce handed you a small, blue pill. “It should keep you from catching Steve’s bug.”

You nodded and swallowed the pill down without even bothering to drink anything. “Alright.”

Just five minutes passed before your phone buzzed on the table. You were quick to answer, holding it up to your ear.

“Y/NNNN.”

“Steve? What do you need? Are you okay? When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago...I threw up and then went back to bed, but I couldn’t fall back asleep-”

“Oh, god. Hold on a second, I’ll be right there,” you promptly ended the call and got out of your seat, pushing the chair in before rushing down the hall to his room.

The super-soldier was sitting up in bed when you arrived, sweat streaming down his forehead as he leaned against the headboard, cheeks flushed a bright red. “Y/N-”

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, I’m here, what do you need? Water? Ice?”

“I feel horrible.”

You brought your hand up to his forehead again, and immediately jerked it away. “You’re still running a really high f...dammit, have you taken any medicine?”

“No...”

“Stay right here, I’ll go get some-”

“Don’t leave me,” he begged hoarsely as he reached out to grab your wrist. You felt a twinge in your chest at that damn pleading look in his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

You let out a sigh of defeat. “...I’ll have Bucky bring the medicine then, okay?”

“Mhmmm.”

It turned out, taking care of a sick super-soldier was a lot more difficult than it seemed. You initially thought that with the serum in his veins, that Steve couldn’t get sick - but for some reason it only amplified his symptoms. Damn that shawarma.

After alerting FRIDAY, Bucky appeared holding a glass of ice water in his metal hand and a small bottle of some medication in the other.

“How ya feelin’, punk?”

“Hey, jerk...” Steve said weakly, “Why is there two of you standing in front of me?”

“He’s getting worse, Y/N...” he looked genuinely worried, his gaze flickering between you and Steve. “...I gotta go now so I won’t get sick...but Y/N will take care of you. Got it?”

“Mhmm.”

As soon as Bucky left you popped open the bottle. “Hey. Drink this.”

“It smells disgusting,” Steve scrunched his nose up in distaste.

“You need to or you’ll only get worse. Now come on,” you urged. He turned his head away to avoid drinking the strong-smelling liquid. “Stop acting like such a big baby. For Odin’s sake, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Do you want to keep feeling like this?”

“No.”

“Then drink the medicine! It’s not that hard.”

“No.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said sternly. “Drink. It. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

Your sudden firm tone of voice took him by surprise. “Fiiiine.”

He took the bottle from your hands and tilted his head back, gulping it down within seconds. As soon as he finished he made a face.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was.”

You pulled your chair closer to his bedside, propping your hand on your chin as you observed him. “Still feeling nauseous?”

“Mhmmm.”

“If you throw up, you’re gonna have to take this all over again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“No..I don’t wike it.”

You chuckled lightly. “I know. It’s for your own good, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s wait for a bit, and if you’re feeling well enough, I can make some onion soup for you, okay? How does that sound?”

“Amazing. I love your soup. Why don’t you cook more often?”

“Just never really considered it,” you shrugged.

Steve rubbed his eyes, subconsciously reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He then lifted your hand up to his face and pressed your palm to his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch.

You swallowed hard as you allowed yourself to stare again at his messy-haired, exhausted figure. Your chest ached. The things you were willing to do for him... god, you loved him so much...

“...Why are you staring?” he mumbled, glancing over to meet your worried eyes. “What’s that look on your face? Y/N...are you okay?”

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed together and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe what you said at all. “Sure you are.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You’re acting like these are my final moments and that I’m going to die soon. Stop worrying so much.”

“This is coming from the person who waited eight hours straight for me to undergo surgery after that Belarus case?”

“Uh huh.”

Several moments passed in silence before he spoke up again. “Thanks for taking care of me...I’m sorry for being a big baby. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “you’re not a burden at all.”

You ended up watching The Empire Strikes Back that afternoon, his head in your lap and you running your fingers through his soft hair. At one point in the movie he began to drift off, and you carefully slid yourself out of bed.

He stirred awake again, reaching for you. “Y/NNNN.”

“I’m gonna go make the soup for you. Rest up and if you’re feeling well enough, then shower and come out to the kitchen, okay?”

“Alright.”

“He doin’ better?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow at you.

“Fever’s gone down a bit but the nausea’s still there,” you exhaled as you began grabbing the necessary ingredients, “hey, uh, Pietro, can you go down to the cellar and grab some white wine?”

The speedster nodded and in a flash, he had the bottle in his hands. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s Cap right now?” Sam questioned.

You heard the water running and replied, “Taking a shower. He’s been sweating like the Amazon.”

With Pietro’s help and your additional powers, you finished up the soup that was supposed to take an hour in just twenty-five minutes. By the time you were setting the bowl along with some bread onto a plate, Steve was hobbling into the kitchen, hair wet and messy with a towel hung around his neck. The tight T-shirt he changed into showed off his toned figure, and you almost dropped your glass of water at the sight.

His eyes immediately lit up upon seeing the food, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I know.” You winked and took a seat next to him. The team smirked at the flirty exchange.

Surprisingly enough, he had the entire thing finished under five minutes so that you had to give him a second serving, which he basically inhaled in two giant gulps.

“You were hungry, huh.”

“After throwing up yesterday’s dinner, yeah.”

You shot Tony a pointed glare. “Thanks a lot, Stark.”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, and held his phone up. “Look, I called them earlier while you were asleep and they gave us a full refund.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

Steve’s migraines started acting up again and you were forced to help him back into bed (with Bucky’s assistance, of course). After spending all day hovering over him, you fell asleep as well, a mere thirty seconds after he did.

...

When you came to the next morning, you felt an arm tighten around your waist and a sleepy groan coming from right next to you. You slowly opened your eyes and realized you were curled up against him with a hand resting against his chest, your legs intertwined together as he held you tightly to him. A breath of relief escaped your lips when his face no longer looked alarmingly pale and his cheeks weren’t bright red.

Steve woke up a few seconds later, giving you a sleepy smile as his grip around you tightened.

"Mornin', doll," he said in a husky voice that made you almost swoon. But then he too, realized what was going on and quickly snapped out of it. "What- oh my God, I’m sorry-”

“Are y’all fully dressed in there? Wanda made her famous French toast feast for breakfast so if you don’t get yo asses out here I’m eating your food!” Sam yelled as he pounded on the door.

"Just a minute!” you shouted back in reply as you and Steve sprung apart, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of clothes before heading to the bathroom to change.

“What the hell, Y/N, you actually slept for sixteen consecutive hours? I’ve never seen you do that before?”

“Huh? What time is it?”

“8:07. And why are you wearing Steve’s shirt?”

“What do you mean? I’m not...” you trailed off on your sentence and looked down to see that you were in fact, wearing one of Steve’s shirts. “...Oh.”

“Did you two...”

“No!”

“Cute,” you heard someone chuckle lowly from behind you and turned around to see a smirking Steve with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So I see now that you’re okay, you’re acting all cocky again, hm?” you raised an eyebrow at the super-soldier. “Guess those meds finally wore off.”

He just chuckled in response and pulled him towards you, engulfing you in a tight, hug.

“Let me go!” you squealed, squirming against his tight grip as the team watched in amusement. “I need to eat breakfast! Let me go!”

“Only if you say the words, sweetheart.”

“Let me go right this instant! I’m serious!” you began laughing uncontrollably. “Steve! Let me go!”

“Not until you say it.”

“Fine! I love you and you’re my favorite Avenger!” He released you from his arms and you brushed your shirt off. “There, happy?”

Steve laughed again, that same damn smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you could get flustered, Y/N.”

“I’m not flustered,” you muttered.

“Your face is like a tomato!” Peter exclaimed. “You wouldn’t look like that if you weren’t. Mr. Stark, looks like I owe you twenty.”

“Peter, did you make a bet with Tony again?” You frowned.

“Yep! We bet when we’d finally figure out you liked Cap and he bet within the next week, while I said three weeks.”

“Oh my god.”

212 notes · View notes

cxptain-rex · 4 years

Text

summary: Fives and the General go undercover in a gathering to get intel on a plan to destroy the GAR. Feelings long locked away come once again to make a final point.

pairings: Fives x Jedi!Reader

warnings: none cause this is pure fluff my friends!!!

also, requests are open for the clones!!! So send some my way pals!!!

reblog and like for sum more cute fluff

********

You never thought from all of your training in the Jedi Temple that you would have to go undercover as a princess and yet here you are, dressing up as one for a certain mission.

The mission consisted of infiltrating a Separatist political gathering. You were invited along with the the senator of Naboo. The Council approves of the mission and they quickly set you up to be the one to get the intel and come back. Anakin volunteered Fives to be your escort for this mission. Captain Rex agreed to it, yet you had the idea of why they did this charade.

The team was infiltrating a ball held in Mandalore by the followers of Darth Maul, whom has been absent for a quite long time now. Leaving the planet to be led by separatist loyalists. The council trusted this mission to you and Anakin, knowing you could lead it effortlessly.

The young senator of Naboo, Padmé, lent you a dress and everything to get ready. Her maids stood gushing around you like a flock of birds. You on the other hand were nervous. Let’s say that you do not enjoy getting out of your robes and into a rather revealing dress. The clothing and make up even your hair screamed royalty. You missed your lightsaber and the robes even your boots.

“There, you look gorgeous” reassured Padmé putting her hands comfortably on your shoulders. You smiled at her softly but shying from how different you looked.

“Don’t worry, you will look beautiful to him” she said in a teasing matter causing your eyes to shot up at her like a wookie caught in headlights.

“I-I have no idea what you are talking about” you mustered adverting your gaze anywhere but at the smiling senator.

The door to your racks hissed open, Anakin, your old friend and former Jedi partner walked inside adorning his brown robes and right behind him, his Captain. The last one to enter was him.

Arc Trooper Fives.

He shed his armor and now possessed grey robes just like the ones the Jedi wore, it was strange to see him without his arc armor which you’ve grown to admire. Fives looked handsome, hair neat and his goate also neatly done.

Fives cleaned nicely. You could not deny it.

“You look amazing, Y/N” Anakin said with a teasing tone to that sentence. Captain Rex nodded along but the one who did not spoke a word was Fives. He was enamored with you, with the dress, with everything. You looked like an angel.

“Let’s get moving, we have a mission to complete” insisted Anakin as he offered his arm to his wife. Fives stood baffled until you walked up to him, he offered his arm and you took it kindly.

No attachments , you reminded yourself trying to get your breathe to be even. You were so entranced on making sure you did not tripped over your own feet that you did not noticed the pair of honey eyes staring at you.

You and Fives stared at each other, he opened his mouth to say something but pursed his lips. He could not bring himself to do it. Kriff, he thought acknowledging your beauty.

“You look...nice” you stammered causing the trooper to look at you catching your shying gaze. “Thank you, you look beautiful” he answered softly rubbing his thumb on your arm.

Goosebumps appeared your skin causing you to shudder as an effect of what he did to you. How could you deny him? He is an amazing man. One of a kind.

Fives knew, yet he did not bring himself to act upon his feelings. You are a Jedi, he is a clone. A powerful force and an expandable being. The same coin with different sides. Those thoughts were like acid rain to his feelings every time he assimilated them.

You arrived at the hangar bay, where a transport awaited for you. The cruiser was stationed some klicks away from the Mandalore system you and the rest of the team were supposed to be. Fives helped you get in, sitting right beside you. For a moment it was like no one else was in that transport just you and him.

Nerves settled in you like binds causing you to smack yourself in your mind. You must calm down, you thought closing your eyes letting out, a slow, heavy sigh. Something warm enclosed itself on your hand, Fives’ hand. He grabbed your hand, entangling his fingers with yours. Rubbing your palm with his thumb and the storm of nerves in you calmed down finally. You thanked him silently and he acknowledged it with a tender smile. Fives after all remained a gentleman even if he has another reputation within the GAR’s men.

The train of thoughts in your mind stopped abruptly as Anakin stood up to brief the mission once again.

“Listen up, this will be a stealth mission. We must not engage the enemy” he reminded everyone. Captain Rex nodded with Fives and Kix who also tagged along just in case a casualty appeared. Padmé would be there too, she is the only way for you to get in with Fives and Anakin.

“Y/N, you will look for the man of the intel. He is a bounty hunter. Trevlin Lenbat. He will give you the intel, once you’ve got it we will retreat from the gathering. Understood?”

“Yes sir” you acknowledged at Anakin, the ship landed on a platform. You were welcomed by Mandalorian guards, whom led you inside the palace where the gathering was being held.

Everything looked quite gorgeous for it to be a gathering of bounty hunters and violent people.

“Ok team, scattered” Anakin spoke as you heard him on your comm. Fives led you down the throne room where everyone was chattering fluently. Flutes of champagne were being passed around, Fives grabbed one. He offered you one which you politely declined.

“We look like idiots” you whispered looking around at the people in the room.

“Well, we look like fancy idiots” Fives retorted causing chuckled to be heard in your ear comm. That was Kix for sure or Rex.

Suddenly the orchestra located at the end of the throne room began playing a melodical tone, a waltz.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” Fives asked.

You stared at him in disbelief. “I do not know how to dance Fives” you mumbled looking away. “C’mon, it’s easy” he chuckled grabbing your hand and resting the other right on your lower back. He pulled you towards him.

So close, you thought you forgot how to breathe at that moment. Fives swayed you across the marbled floor and it was almost like you were made for that activity.

Silence consumed between the two of you. The coms have gone silent and now its just Fives and you. He twirled you, enlightening a sharp gasp from you.

Fives chuckled softly bringing you closer, he was making sure to remember all of this. The tension between the two of you could be cut with a lightsaber if needed.

Suddenly a whisper passed by you and Fives. “Isn’t that the Jedi whom protected the late Duchess?”

Kriff, they knew you were here

You shared a look with Fives. The music ended and as the guards were sauntering towards you.

Everything stopped. Fives planted his lips on yours as the lights of the throne room dimmed. You gasped into his mouth as he stroke your face with his hand, covering you with his body. He bit your lower lip enlightening a small moan.

The kiss stopped.

The guards passed by and did not look at you twice.

Thanks to Fives’ move.

Anakin’s voice came through the comma. “Sorry to cut this cute scene short, but we have to go now. I have the intel, let’s go”

Fives grabbed your hands and made it to the doors, and blasters went off. You were caught. The doors now covered by Mandalorian guards. Suddenly something was being pressed against your hands. Your lightsaber. Fives gave it to you. He carried it with him.

You turned it on, and began slashing your way through as Fives shot down the guards with a blaster. You made it outside where the transport was waiting. Captain Rex narrowed his eyes until he located you and Fives.

“I see them sir!” He called to Anakin and you ran for it. Fives trailed right behind you. You made it inside the transport and the ramp closed.

++++++++

As the stamina in everyone died down, you made your way to the back of the transport until you arrived at the crusier.

The ship landed on the hangar bay, the doors opened letting the team out. Anakin off to debriefing with Captain Rex. Kix to the medical wing and Padmé back to her quarters. You stayed behind with Fives whom has been silent the whole way back.

You were dazed by him. He kissed you. “You kissed me” you said looking up at the trooper. “And I would do it again, if it means to keep you safe” Fives said in a joking matter but with a glistening light in his honey eyes.

Fives stared you lovingly but you stared in confusion and conflict within yourself. “Don’t pretend like you don’t feel the same, cya’re” he said stroke your cheek causing you to lean your face towards his hand. You missed the physical touch that the Jedi Code denied you.

“...Fives...I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it” you stammered opening your eyes, connecting with his gaze.

Fives faltered right there, hearing you say that caused him to have a circuit or some kriffing stuff like that. He could not breathe for a moment.

“Why me?” He asked glaring down at the floor.

“What?” You asked baffled at his questioning. You did not understood and then it dawned on you. He is a clone after all, there are men who look exactly just like him running around the hangar. The insecurity in his eyes shattered your heart.

“You could have had anyone? So why me?”

You were the one who pressed a hand to his cheek now. He caught it just in time before you took it away. Fives kissed your palm.

“...Because you’re the only one I want, you always have been...Is that really so hard to believe?” You answered wholeheartedly at him.

You threw caution to the wind.

Screw the Jedi Codes. Screw the Order. Screw the GAR.

You were in love with this man.

“Now what?” He asked.

“Kiss me, and we’ll find out along the way” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him down.

Fives chuckled planted his hands on your waist, brushing his lips against yours. Pressing them, at once like a flicker. The force spread within your space causing you to chuckle as you felt the pull.

“I love you, Fives”

“And I love you, Mesh'la”

++++++++

I’m actually proud of this!

362 notes · View notes

art-gelato · 3 years

Text

Twice as Shiny

1. a little worse for wear, practically walking on air

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. “If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I’ll kill him myself.”

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. “What hopes?” she asked. [AO3] [prev]

Miko had been given strict orders to stay out of the med bay ("I mean it, Miko," in that commanding Prime voice), so of course she set about getting in as soon as she was left unsupervised. Her timing was perfect—she approached the door to the converted storage unit just as Ratchet was exiting, and she slipped through the door behind him as he headed towards the other end of the hallway. Inside were a few beeping monitors, and a makeshift stretcher-thing that was too high up for her to see onto properly. She craned her neck, but she could only catch glimpses of a few sharp silver angles and the wings that poked out over the sides.

Undeterred, she clambered up the stretcher, which looked like it used to be some heavy-duty machinery that lifted really big stuff—probably aircraft, if its current use was anything to go by. She reached the platform with little difficulty, and found herself at the occupant's pointy feet. He wasn't moving, and his eyes were closed, and plus his wrists were chained to the rails, so she figured it was safe enough. She half-jogged along the platform until she reached his shoulder, and gave the armor plating there a nudge with the toe of her shoe. When that didn't elicit a response, she kicked him.

There was a low hum of activating machinery, and his eyes slowly opened. The creepy red glow of them was unfocused, though, and his gaze drifted aimlessly around the room before finally settling on her. "You," he croaked, and she wondered what was going on with his voice box to make it sound so crackly. It reminded her of the way Raf sounded after he pulled an all-nighter to finish his extra smart-kid homework.

She didn't like that. It made him seem more like a person.

"Me," she said, hands on her hips. "Got a problem?"

He stretched his jaw back and forth, like he was trying to get used to his own face. "Can't even remember your name," he said eventually. "But I suspect you have a problem with me."

"Duh," Miko replied. "Maybe it has something to do with all the times you've tried to kill me and my friends!"

Starscream sighed, a staticky rush of boredom. "Get in line, sparkling."

"My name is Miko," she said, giving his shoulder another kick. She wished it would leave a dent, and then maybe he'd stop looking at her with that cross between mild annoyance and vague amusement and take her seriously.

"You think I care?" Starscream asked, one side of his mouth twisting up in a mocking smile.

"I think you'd better!" Miko snapped. "Because if you do anything else to hurt my friends, I'm coming for you."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "I'm shaking." He sounded more awake now, and his attention shifted to take in the room properly. "Where's the medic? I'm surprised my new benevolent masters saw fit to allow you in here alone."

Miko crossed her arms. "They know not to underestimate me."

He looked her up and down, which didn't take him long at all. "You snuck in," he said, and his grin was almost genuine. "Nice to see a healthy disregard for authority in the youths, at least."

She burned with rage at the thought of Starscream approving of any of her actions, and she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when-

"Miko! What are you doing in here?"

"NothingI'mnothere!" Miko yelped automatically, scrambling for the edge of the stretcher. She tripped on Starscream's wing, but before she could fall, Ratchet's hand was there to catch her. His fingers closed carefully around her, and he carried her out the door and deposited her in the hallway.

"We'll talk later," Ratchet said through gritted teeth, and slammed the door shut.

Miko let out a long groan, then pressed her ear to the door. Ratchet was speaking, sounding way grumpier that usual. She hadn't even known that was possible.

"-a day to make sure the transplant takes. Absolutely no transforming before then, or I'll rip that T-cog right back out of you with my bare servos."

"Charming," Starscream drawled.

"If you want a smooth talker, go back to Knock Out. Optimus will be here soon to get those coordinates from you. No," Ratchet added, apparently cutting off Starscream before the former 'Con could object, "we're not waiting until you're cleared for flight. There's too much at stake. The T-cog will take, I just don't want you to strain it. Ready or not, you're giving us-"

"Miko," said a deep voice far above her.

Miko jerked away from the door and looked up. She hadn't even heard Optimus approaching—he might be twenty tons of solid metal, but the guy was stealthy. He was also very, very good at making her feel guilty when she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe it was because he didn't actually try to make her feel guilty. He just would be disappointed, but he wouldn't say he was disappointed even though it was written all over his face. Sometimes she wished he would just get mad about stuff, because she knew how to deal with angry people, but he was too nice for that.

"I went in while Ratchet wasn't there," she admitted, so it wouldn't all get drawn out.

Optimus made a contemplative sound, then crouched down so they could talk easier. She liked it when he did that, because she really felt like he was paying attention to her. Not many adults gave her the courtesy. "Starscream shouldn't be disturbed too much right now," he said. "I know you're curious, but he did just have surgery."

"I'm not curious," she said, a little too defensively. "I was making a point."

Optimus gave her a bemused look. "And what point is that?"

Miko punched her palm. "I'll scrap him if he even thinks about double-crossing us."

"I see," Optimus said. "Was he suitably intimidated?"

"No," Miko grumbled, scuffing her shoe on the concrete floor. "But I'll show him."

Optimus reached out and placed a gentle finger on her shoulder. "Starscream is our ally, at least for now," he said. "Perhaps showing him some compassion will be a more effective way to keep him so."

"That creep probably doesn't even know what compassion is," Miko said, crossing her arms.

"All the more reason, in that case," Optimus replied with a small smile that quickly faded. "However, I would prefer it if you stayed away from him."

"Aw, c'mon!" Miko whined. "If he's gonna be here, I'm gonna run into him! What, am I supposed to leave the room if he walks in?"

"Starscream is dangerous, intentionally or otherwise," Optimus said. "He's not used to being around humans, and any of you could get hurt if he isn't careful. And if he is planning to betray us, you children would likely be his first target as the most vulnerable among us."

"If?" Miko echoed back at him, hooking air quotes around the word. "OP, he definitely is. This is Starscream!"

And Optimus… hesitated. He was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to reply. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree," he said at last. "But as it is, I am certain he no longer feels any loyalty to Megatron. He's on his own side now, and I'm hoping…" Here, he trailed off, his usually steady gaze turning inward.

Miko put her hand on his finger, still resting on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Optimus?"

Optimus closed his eyes and took a deep breath (or vent or whatever it was giant robots did). "My apologies," he said. "I don't want to concern you."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" Miko said, grabbing onto him tighter, with both hands, as he began to pull away. She couldn't actually stop him, but the attempt made him pause nonetheless. "If you wanna talk about something, I'll listen. You have a hard time being vulnerable around the bots, cuz they look up to you and stuff. But you're not my boss, you're my friend. I'll listen." The words fell out of her, quickly, desperately, before she could think about them. He always gave off an aura of distant leadership, even when he was being nice to her. Now, she'd caught a glimpse of something more underneath, something small and sad and almost scared, and she needed to know.

"I- believe that would be unwise," Optimus said, and now he did pull away. Miko's hands felt empty and cold. He must have seen the disappointment on her face, because his own softened. "Miko, the strength of your heart is admirable, but this is not a weight I can lay on it."

Miko clenched her fists. "Gimme- gimme something I can do to help, at least." Because she could see it—he needed help, and the problem wasn't something punchable, or shootable, or even medically fixable. It wasn't something any of the Autobots could help him with, she was sure of it. She wasn't certain she could help either, but she wanted to try.

Inside the med bay, Ratchet and Starscream were arguing, their words muffled but the vitriol coming through loud and clear. Optimus' eyes flicked in the direction of the closed door before returning to Miko. "This is not your war," he murmured. "Perhaps you can see things in another way."

With that, he pushed himself back to his full height, and Miko knew the conversation was over.

She threw her arms out and shouted at him anyway. "What the scrap is that supposed to mean?"

Optimus just gave her a faint smile and opened the door.

"-not a prisoner my aft! Take these chains off me right fragging now, Hatchet!"

"Sit still, you insufferable glitch, I told you-"

"I hate to interrupt," Optimus said, and that shut them both up.

That was one of the many things Miko thought was really cool about Optimus—his ability to just stop people right in their tracks, no matter what they were doing. Often just by showing up. She aspired to have that kind of power someday.

But she knew the start of a boring conversation when she saw one (something something keys, something something coordinates), so she skulked off. Bulkhead would certainly be looking for her by now, anyway. It was almost dinner time, and she had to be home in half an hour or her host family would… worry, or something. Who knew.

Besides, she had some stuff to think about.

The next day was a Saturday, which meant normally Miko would have slept in past eleven. But this Saturday, she woke up with a weird knot of anxiety in her gut around eight and couldn't fall back asleep, so she shot a message into the group chat with Jack and Raf.

u guys up?

Almost immediately, Raf responded. Wow, I'm surprised you're awake.

cant sleep, Miko typed back. i wanna head over to base u in?

Yeah why not, Jack said. My shift isn't until later anyway

Is something going on? Raf asked. I mean, besides the stuff with the Omega Keys.

Miko's thumbs hovered over her phone for a minute before she settled on a reply. idk lets talk on the way

After that, she sent a message to Bulkhead, asking him to pick the three of them up. Then she rolled out of bed and got ready as fast as she could. She pulled her hair into its second ponytail as she crept quietly down the stairs, hoping no one from her host family was around. Luck was on her side as she snagged some breakfast from the kitchen—they tended to sleep in on the weekend as well.

"Oh, hey, hun," said a voice behind her. "You're up early."

Miko's groan was muffled behind a piece of toast. So much for luck being on her side. "Morning, Mrs. Jones," she said, not bothering to swallow her mouthful of bread first. She poured coffee into her travel mug and dumped in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar. Then she added cream, screwed the cap on the mug, and shook it.

"Big plans for the day?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Miko turned around, looked Mrs. Jones in the eye, and took her time washing down the toast with the coffee. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'—a neat trick to insert attitude into a simple word that she'd picked up from some of the girls in afterschool detention. "I'll probably be back late."

Mrs. Jones had a tense smile. Miko wasn't sure if it was always like that, or just always like that for Miko. "Hanging out with your friends… James and Roger?"

"Close enough," Miko said, and was saved by the honk of a horn outside. "I gotta go. See you, Mrs. Jones." She brushed past the older woman and hurried out the door.

Sure enough, Bulkhead was waiting by the curb. She was usually last to get picked up if one Autobot was getting all three of them, but when it came to Bulkhead, she had automatic dibs on the passenger seat. When she opened the door, she saw Jack behind the wheel and Raf in the back seat. Both boys gave her a wave.

"Morning, guys!" she said, feeling a sudden surge of energy as she hopped in and deposited her travel mug in the center console. "Okay, so, something super weird happened yesterday."

"Seatbelt," Bulkhead reminded her.

"Weird how?" Jack asked, simultaneously.

Miko huffed and buckled herself in, and Bulkhead began to drive. "So I snuck into the med bay after Screamer got his appendix removed or whatever," she said.

"That's where you were?" Bulkhead exclaimed, then added reproachfully, "I was looking everywhere for you."

"And you didn't look in the one place I was told not to go? C'mon, Bulky, you know me better than that."

"I-" Bulkhead paused. "Yeah, that's on me. Wait, Starscream didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, he was just, like, kinda rude," Miko said, flapping a dismissive hand. "The weird thing happened with Optimus, actually. I was listening at the door after Ratchet kicked me out, and Optimus came up and gave me one of his dad lectures about compassion and stuff. That's the boring part. But he seems really convinced that Starscream isn't gonna double-cross us. That's weird, right? Like, double-crossing is what Starscream does."

"Mmph," Bulkhead said. He'd never been particularly good at subtlety. All three kids' full attention was immediately on the steering wheel, Raf even leaning forward through the gap between the front seats.

"Do you know something?" Miko asked.

"N-o," Bulkhead replied, drawing the word out into two uncertain syllables.

Miko drummed her hands on the dashboard. "Yes, you do! What's going on?"

If a Jeep could squirm, that's what Bulkhead would be doing. "I don't know!" he insisted. "Not anything specific!"

"But you know something," Raf said.

"Okay, okay," Bulkhead said, able to weather the worst Decepticon interrogations but caving under the pressure of a few determined juveniles. "I was with Prime when we went to negotiate with Starscream for the keys. Then halfway through, just when Starscream's threatening to go to Megatron out of spite or something, Optimus sends me 'n Smokescreen back to base! I don't know what went down, but after that, Optimus brought Starscream right into the base. Now we can't treat him like a prisoner, but we still have to take turns babysitting him just in case he decides to cause problems despite our deal—which! We don't even know the full terms of! We're getting what we want, but there's no way Starscream only wanted his T-cog replaced. Sure, we're not hunting him for sport either, but there's gotta be more, right? I think he and Prime hashed something out, but for some reason Prime ain't telling!"

The end of his rant was met with a few moments of silence.

"You… really needed to get that off your chest, huh," Jack said eventually.

"Maybe!" Then Bulkhead sighed. "Things have just been weird around base, y'know? It's great- beyond great that we've got this shot at bringing back Cybertron. But having Starscream with us for it feels…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Icky?" Miko suggested.

"Icky," Bulkhead agreed.

Miko took a slow sip of her coffee as she thought. She couldn't bring herself to tell Bulkhead the last thing Optimus had said to her, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because it had felt like it was just for her. Or—no, that wasn't right. It just wasn't for the other Autobots. That was why he'd said it to her. Because he couldn't say it to anyone else. It had been a moment of… weakness, or something that could be easily perceived as weakness.

But she couldn't figure this out on her own, and Jack and Raf had just as much insight into how Optimus' brain worked as she did.

"Would anyone know what OP is thinking?" she mused aloud.

"Ratchet, maybe," Bulkhead said. "He's known Optimus the longest. Since before the war, before the Primacy, before everything. If anyone's got a clue, it's the doc. He won't talk to us about Optimus, but maybe he'll talk to you."

When they got to base, the Autobots were holding a discussion in the main area. They stood around a stack of crates which the four Omega Keys sat atop, fused into a pyramid shape with a holographic blue orb floating above the point.

"-all the good a map does us," Arcee was saying. "We can plot routes through the wastes as much as we like, but that doesn't change the fact we can't even get there."

Bumblebee chirped something.

"Because using Megatron's spacebridge worked out so well for us last time," Ratchet replied wearily. "We've been over that already."

"They've been at this since before I left to pick you guys up," Bulkhead muttered to the kids. "Talking in circles. I was ready to make up my own excuse to get out of here by the time you texted me."

Smokescreen, separate from the rest of the Autobots, was the first to notice them. He was clearly on Starscream duty, since he and the former 'Con were leaning back against the wall to the right of the entrance. Smokescreen seemed unsure if he was disappointed about being left out of the argument or relieved. Starscream just looked bored.

"Hey!" Smokescreen called out, jerking away from the wall and making half a step towards Bulkhead and the kids before remembering his task. He glanced expectantly over his shoulder at Starscream, who made a big show of rolling his eyes and pushing out of his slouch to follow Smokescreen over to the newcomers. "They're all kinda deep in it," Smokescreen said apologetically.

"It's a wonder you lot ever get anything done," Starscream grumbled. "I've spent the last half-joor reorganizing long-term memories just to break up the monotony."

"If you would like to add your wisdom, Starscream, you are welcome to," Optimus said, his voice cutting easily through everything else. Nearly all the bots in the room jumped in surprise, and Starscream's wings flared upwards.

Then he settled them back to their default position, and slowly turned to face the rest of the Autobots. All of them were glaring at him, with the exception of Optimus. "I doubt my insight would be appreciated," Starscream said.

Arcee scoffed.

"Could you think of a way to access the spacebridge without alerting Megatron?" Optimus asked.

Starscream was quiet for a moment. Miko couldn't see his face, but his hands were clenched behind his back, one wrist caught tightly in his clawed fingers. "No," he said. "And whatever trick you used to sneak around him last time won't work again. He's a fast learner. You'd have to defeat him first to get to the bridge safely—but if you had the means to do that, you'd have done so already. Wouldn't you have?" That last bit felt pointed somehow, but the meaning was lost on Miko.

Optimus, as always, was unfazed. "Any other ideas?"

"Oh, I don't know," Starscream snapped. "I don't suppose you picked up any ancient artifacts that can just magically transform your groundbridge into a spacebridge?"

"The Forge!" Smokescreen blurted. "What about the Forge?"

Now everyone's attention was on Smokescreen, and he grew uncertain when no one said anything. "It could do that… right?"

Starscream tilted his head, turning to look at Smokescreen in an exaggerated motion. "Are you referring to the Forge of Solus Prime?" he asked, incredulity dripping from his tone. "It's real? And you have it?"

Smokescreen opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well," Bulkhead said. "I wouldn't say we… have it."

"That would work, though," Arcee said. "Wouldn't it?"

"I don't see why not," Ratchet replied.

Bumblebee let out a string of beeps.

"You just have to get it?" Starscream echoed. "Get it from where?"

The room fell silent.

"Ah," Starscream said, putting the pieces together. He straightened his back, suddenly exuding smooth confidence. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh, yes," Arcee said, cold and acidic. "Stealing a powerful artifact from Megatron will be a walk in the park."

Miko had already begun sidling around to where she could watch the full show, and she could see the shift in Starscream, like he was coming to life. Before, he'd been idling, only physically present because he had nowhere else to be. Miko was intimately familiar with the feeling—it was how she passed most of the time in school.

Now, the thin slash of his smile sharpened with purpose, and a low fire blazed through him, burning away any submissiveness in his posture. Even his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "Why not?" he said. "I know the Nemesis inside and out. I know where Megatron hoards his treasures. I know all the past guard shift schedules and I can accurately predict possible future ones. Even after going rogue, I was able to sneak aboard and raid the energon stores without getting caught. And with Hot Shot's favorite toy-" He gestured to Smokescreen. "-I could be in and out like a ghost."

"No way," Arcee said, taking a threatening step towards him. "There's no way we're letting you anywhere near the Nemesis. Especially not with the phase shifter."

"My apologies," Starscream said with false sweetness, mirroring her step forward with one of his own. "I wasn't aware you had another flight frame readily available. The Nemesis, in case you've forgotten, is quite high up."

Smokescreen shuddered. "Extremely high up."

"Arcee is right," Optimus said. "We can't trust you on a mission like this. Not alone."

"Not at all!" Arcee exclaimed with a swift chop of her hand, her glower fixed on Starscream.

Optimus laid a hand on her shoulder. "We have no other way to get aboard. Soundwave would detect the energy spike of a groundbridge. But if Starscream could carry someone-"

"Who?" Arcee said. "Bulkhead? You? I'm the only one small and light enough for him to…" Her eyes widened with realization.

"No!" she and Starscream shouted at the same time. They gave each other appalled looks.

Starscream coughed into his fist, struggling to regain his composure. "I could probably carry the yellow one."

Bumblebee jabbed a finger at Starscream as he chirped something distinctly displeased, his eyes narrowing.

"…carry Bumblebee," Starscream corrected himself through gritted teeth.

"You'll need speed and maneuverability on your side," Optimus said. "The less weight you're carrying, the higher the odds of success."

"Then don't make me carry anyone at all!" Starscream snarled.

Arcee's hands curled into fists. She began to move forward, opening her mouth to retort, only to be stopped when Optimus' grip on her tightened.

"Starscream," Optimus said, his voice somehow both soft and warning. "Compromise." It sounded less like an order and more like a reminder.

Starscream's wings flicked one after the other, as if he were physically trying to shake away his agitation. Then he took a shallow breath and straightened his spine, his hands going behind his back again as his stance became more formal. "Very well," he said, tone and expression carefully neutral. "I understand why I cannot be allowed alone on a high-stakes mission. Logically, Arcee is the best choice for infiltrating the Nemesis with me." His gaze shifted from Optimus to Arcee. "It would be foolish, at this point, to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of the restoration of our home planet."

Arcee's face contorted in fury—Miko felt scorched by her glare just by being in vague proximity to Starscream. Then she closed her eyes, breathing deep. When she reopened her eyes after a couple of moments, the harsh boil of her anger had reduced to a simmer. "Fine," she said, and looked up at Optimus. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Optimus murmured, and followed her out of the main room.

After the two of them were gone, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Jack, and Raf were still clustered by the entrance, and the rest of the Autobots were by the Omega Keys. Starscream stood alone between the two groups, looking in the direction Arcee and Optimus had left in with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

Miko decided to take action. She strode over to Starscream. "Hey, birdbrain," she called out. "You'd better not pull any tricks on Arcee."

Starscream didn't so much as twitch, eyes still fixed on the hallway. "What would you do?" he asked, sounding oddly far away.

This threw Miko for a loop. "Huh?"

He blinked, coming back to himself, and looked down at her. "What would you do?" he repeated irritably. "If it was just you and me. If you had no weapons, no powerful friends at your back. What course of action would you take? How would you, alone, damage me?"

Miko opened her mouth, but her mind was blank. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Back off, Starscream," Bulkhead said.

Starscream's eyes widened, and he swiveled his head towards Bulkhead. "Are you seriously telling me you've allowed these organics to follow you onto the battlefield multiple times, and never gave them the tools to defend themselves?" he asked, his irritation congealing into outraged disbelief.

"Hey!" Miko said, crossing her arms. "I took out an Insecticon, you know!"

"And just how did you do that?" Starscream said, and Miko knew her answer wouldn't hold up under the weight of his condescension.

"Wheeljack's ship," she mumbled anyway.

"So you can use your surroundings, at least," Starscream said, which wasn't exactly the scathing insult she'd been expecting. "But you won't always be so lucky." Then, to her surprise, he dropped to one knee. At the sudden movement, every Autobot in the room started towards him, and he waved a hand. "Relax, I'm just going to show her something." He crooked a claw at her, beckoning her closer. "The other two should know this as well."

Miko exchanged uncertain glances with Jack and Raf, and then the three of them warily approached. Smokescreen and Bulkhead followed, while the rest hung back and watched.

Starscream traced the tip of a claw down a seam on the outside of his ankle. For a Cybertronian, it was too small to easily access, but Miko figured she could probably stick her arm in there. "Cybertronians vary massively in design, but there are always gaps at the joints, to allow for movement," Starscream explained. "Inside those joints, you will find sensitive wiring, especially in complex areas like this. If you find yourself facing an enemy you can't beat, your goal should be to cause enough of a distraction to facilitate an escape. In that regard, ankle joints should be your prime target. Use a tool, something sharp or hooked, and long enough to get to the circuitry. Just don't actually reach inside, since that would be an excellent way to lose those fleshy little servos of yours."

"You mean hands?" Miko asked.

Starscream ignored her, continuing, "The combination of pain and surprise should be enough to buy you time. If you're lucky, you may even impair your enemy's ability to give chase, albeit mildly. However, when you are so much smaller and weaker than your opponent, every advantage counts, no matter how slight." He rested his forearm on his knee. "After that, run. Not in a straight line—our motion algorithms can easily track you. Keep your movements unpredictable and seek cover. Anything that puts objects between you and your pursuer, preferably something that disguises the direction you're headed in. Find somewhere to hide, and wait for backup."

While Starscream was talking, Raf had ventured even closer to peer through the seam Starscream had indicated, trying to get a better look at circuitry. "Cool," he breathed.

"Was nothing like that ever explained to you?" Starscream asked. The annoyance, which had begun to fade during his lecture, was back full force.

"We've gotten the 'hide and wait for backup' talk a few times," Jack said.

"Unbelievable," Starscream said, aghast. "How did I never manage to kill you?" His tone was weirdly impersonal—a little frustrated, but mostly marveling at what he seemed to view as a massive oversight.

"Well, thank you," Miko said, and realized that she meant it despite his last remark. "For telling us all that."

Starscream gave her a hard look, as if trying to assess her sincerity. When he found her guileless, his eyes flicked away, discomfort crossing his face. "It's about time someone did," he muttered, and pushed himself to his feet.

At that moment, Optimus and Arcee returned, and Starscream stepped away from the kids. Miko turned her attention elsewhere, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn't felt threatened at all while being so close to him. He was a creep and a jerk, and he probably had some sinister reason for giving them potentially life-saving advice. Yeah.

Yet she couldn't help thinking about yesterday. Starscream's voice raspy after waking up. Optimus talking about compassion and war.

Miko shoved her hands in her pockets, stepping over to Jack and bumping shoulders with him. He bumped shoulders back, and she felt a little better.

Arcee still looked furious, but also a lot calmer about it. She clapped, a sharp sound that shot across the room and drew all eyes to her. "Alright, everybody," she said. "Let's plan a heist."

While the bots plotted, Miko totally thrashed the boys at Mario Kart. The three of them were, under normal circumstances, pretty evenly matched at video games. Today, though, Jack kept shooting worried glances at Arcee, and Raf's attention faltered every time Bumblebee spoke. Miko couldn't blame them, because she was anxious, too. She just channeled her anxiety differently. That was, directly into kicking ass at Mario Kart.

Eventually, Jack had to leave. His shift started at 4, and by then the planning was over, so Arcee took him. She looked like she was dying to get out of base anyway. Miko couldn't blame her.

Now, Optimus and Ratchet were looking at something on one of the big screens, and Bulkhead and Bumblebee had joined the remaining kids for TV time. As for the last two mechs in the building…

"You don't have to shadow my every step," Starscream snapped.

"You're pacing," Smokescreen said. "It's making me nervous."

"If you don't leave me be," Starscream said, his wings vibrating with tension, "I'll give you something to be truly nervous about."

"Starscream," Optimus said in reprimand, not even looking away from whatever he was working on.

Starscream let out a low growl, flexing his claws like he was aching to sharpen them on something. "Ratchet," he said, his tone cajoling. "Hasn't it been a day already?"

Miko and Raf watched from over the back of the couch, the monster truck rally on TV forgotten. "What's he mean?" Raf whispered to her.

"Docbot's making him wait a day before he can transform again," Miko whispered back. "Overheard it yesterday."

Ratchet was close enough to the couch to hear the hushed exchange, and he gave Miko a taste of his best glare before he turned it on Starscream. "Not quite," he said.

Starscream responded by taking on a pose that could only be described as 'toadying'—bent slightly at the waist, one hand curled over the other in front of his chest, his wings dipped to a nonthreatening angle. "Surely a couple of, er, hours won't make much of a difference. We need to make sure I'm in top condition for this mission, after all. With such a skilled medic as you, I'm sure I'll be-"

"Alright, alright," Ratchet said, holding up a hand. "Just stop doing- that, and we'll head up top."

Starscream straightened up, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I wanna go," Miko said instantly. The only times she'd seen Starscream or any Decepticon transform was either from far away or while she was worried about her immediate safety. Without the threat of danger, there was no way she was gonna pass up the chance to see a giant robot turn into a fighter jet up close.

"I'd like to, as well," Raf said, apparently having the same thought.

"No," Ratchet said.

To her surprise, Starscream backed them up. "Oh, what's the harm, doctor?" he purred. Miko wondered if he was physically capable of not sounding like he was up to something sneaky at all times.

Ratchet squinted, looking between Starscream and the kids. Miko and Raf smiled at Ratchet, giving him their best puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," Ratchet grumbled, and he extended his hand to the kids. "But I'm gonna hold onto you. Ap-bup-bup!" he added when Miko opened her mouth to complain. "I'm not leaving you anywhere you can get accidentally squished."

Miko groaned, but Raf was already clambering into Ratchet's waiting palm, so she followed.

They took a cargo elevator to the top, which creaked ominously at the weight of two Cybertronians. Ratchet didn't seem worried, though, so Miko tried not to worry either. At one point, she thought she saw Starscream watching her from the corner of his eye.

The ceiling above them opened, and the platform grated to a halt once it was level with the flat rock around it.

"Nice view," Starscream remarked, casting a judgmental eye over the desert expanse. "So this is where your precious base is."

"Don't make us regret letting you in," Ratchet said, and held out a small disc to Starscream. "Optimus tell you about this?"

"Oh. The tracking device." Starscream's lip curled slightly, but he took the disc.

"Put it wherever," Ratchet said. "You can take it off, but we'll know if you do."

Starscream fiddled with it. "And if it gets damaged in the field?"

"Comm us and explain."

"Would you believe me?" Starscream asked.

Ratchet let out a harsh sigh. "Optimus will, at least."

Turning it over one last time in his fingers, Starscream said, "I suppose that's the best I'll get," and slipped it under a ledge in his chest. He cricked his neck, stretched his arms, and walked right up to the cliff's edge.

He inhaled deeply, his wings twitching in anticipation. Then he clicked his heels together and did a neat little about-face, giving the kids a smirk just before he tipped backwards off the edge. He transformed as he fell, and Miko found herself holding her breath as he dropped out of sight.

Engines roared, and Miko couldn't help whooping as he shot straight upwards, so fast the gust of wind he created made her and Raf stumble. Starscream must have heard her, because his wings waggled in what felt like acknowledgement. He kept going up, up, nosecone pointed to the clouds, until she had to shade her eyes to keep watching him. Abruptly, his engines cut out, and he seemed to hang suspended for a moment before toppling backwards again. Miko gripped Ratchet's index finger as Starscream spun around and around, plummeting towards the ground in freefall.

"Relax, kiddo," Ratchet said. "He's just showing off."

Miko couldn't tear her eyes away. How could falling like that be showing off? And then, just when she thought Starscream wasn't going to be able to pull up in time, his engines fired and he righted himself with a quick flick of his wings. He turned freefall into a graceful dive that hooked around the tall mesa that disguised the Autobot base, only half of one wing visible like the fin of a shark as he circled them. Then he was up and away again, doing loops and flips and barrel rolls, all because he could. For the sheer joy of it.

She wondered what that would be like, to have the wind as a friend and gravity as a plaything. She wondered if she could get him to tell her honestly.

"Hey, Ratchet," Miko said, still watching Starscream. "Optimus said something to me yesterday."

"Go on."

"It was after you kicked me out of the med bay. He seemed sad about something, so I asked how I could help, and he said that this isn't my war, and maybe I could see things another way. But then he wouldn't tell me what he meant."

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. "If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I'll kill him myself."

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. "What hopes?" she asked.

Ratchet let out a heavy sigh. "He's got this notion of ending the war without winning or losing. Where both sides come back together to rebuild the world better this time. It's-" He made a frustrated grinding noise. "No one else would think it's possible. I sure don't. But he hopes." His free hand clenched, and he sounded so old and tired as he murmured, "Primus save him, he hopes."

Raf crouched to give Ratchet a comforting pat on the palm, but Miko just kept holding onto his finger, still watching Starscream. She didn't really know what any of that had to do with her or her ability to see things another way, and yet… she had a strange feeling she was starting to kind of understand.

Maybe it was something about the way Starscream cut through the sky. Exuberance radiated off him—there was nothing calculating or scheming in the twirl of his wings, the gunning of his engines. He'd been on the ground for so long, and now he was celebrating flight. She couldn't deny anymore that he was just another person, with his own motives and dreams and history. And if Starscream was a person, what about the rest of the Decepticons? She knew plenty of people did plenty of bad things for plenty of reasons, but she was used to applying that mentality to humans. It required another shift of thinking to apply it to alien robots, especially when she'd been taught by most of the Autobots that Decepticons were just plain bad.

And maybe they were bad people, but Miko was starting to think that maybe it wasn't all that simple. If Optimus thought there was a way to reconcile their differences, maybe… maybe…

Miko didn't know. But she was going to find out.

"Alright, pack it in," Ratchet said into his comm. "That's enough fancy flightwork for today. Save some fuel for your mission."

Starscream veered back towards the mesa, transforming again as he landed. "Killjoy," he said, but he was grinning, exhilarated and sincere. Then he caught himself, and the grin shifted into a haughty sneer.

Miko came to a decision. She wasn't sure if it was the right one, but that had never stopped her before. "Woo!" she crowed, throwing up horns with both hands. "Starscream, that was awesome!"

Starscream gave her a startled look, then quickly composed himself. "Of course," he said, lifting his chin. "I'm the best there is."

But some of the sincerity had returned to his smile, and Miko knew she could do this.

#transformers #transformers prime #starscream #starscream tfp #optimus prime #autobots #writing counts as art

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 7

Support | Carrying

Ao3

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, canon typical violence

-o-o-o-o-

Here was the thing about fighting crime in Gotham. Well, or just fighting crime in general. Sometimes things just went wrong and there was nothing you could do about it. You could be the most powerful superhuman in the world, or the most skilled martial artist, or have a reputation to the moon and had the documentation to prove that reputation wasn't complete bull.

No matter who you were, sometimes you got hurt from a dumb thing. A thing you could have avoided. A thing that you most certainly will beat yourself up over in the coming weeks.

Sometimes a stray bullet just happened to ricochet juuuuust right off the concrete walls and into the back of your hip while you were fighting crime in the streets.

When Jason felt the intense pain of the aforementioned stray bullet entering his flesh, it took every ounce of will power he had to not cry out or fall down.

"Hood!"

He heard Nightwing call his name. The idiot practically begged for tonight's brotherly bonding session and Jason wanted nothing more than to look up and glare at him. Saying: "let's patrol together, Jason! It will be fun , Jason!"

He didn't for a number of reasons. Mostly because he couldn't say his real name out loud; though he supposed he could say 'Hood'?. Anyway, it was also kinda because he had his helmet on and it was sorta hard to glare through it unless he had the helmet literally sculpted into a glare. Partly because the pain was muting even though the bullet couldn't have gone that deep. It should have lost power while bouncing off the stone bricks, and the material of his jacket and under armor should have stopped it a little . All the way if it hit right. But it didn't hit right. Somehow, it came at him in that very specific angle that Kevlar didn't like.

He had a bullet in his hip. He could feel warm blood pouring out of a hole in his body, trickling down the back of his legs and ever so slowly becoming painfully stabbing.

So while Jason wanted to joke, look up at his dumb older brother and tease that this is why they don't do things together, it was all he could do maneuver his arms so he didn't faceplant when his hip eventually gave out.

And oh yeah. The pain was definitely settling in now. It forced his eyes to widen and tear up, his hands to clench, his arms to twitch as his body desperately tried to figure out what to do without his consent. He wanted to grab at the wound, which was good right? Stop the blood flow? But it was at an awkward position behind him, and he was sure there were still thugs in the alleyway; he kinda really didn't want to be seen clutching his ass in front of them all.

So he sorta just... laid there pathetically, hating how a simple patrol turned out like this; with Jason laying in a growing puddle of his own blood.

This was Dick's fault. Jason was sure. When he got the medical treatment he needed, he was definitely going to hold this above Goldie's head for the rest of time and eternity.

Although, quicker than what he expected, Dick was by his side with eyes comically wide behind his mask, hands hovering over Jason like he wasn't sure what to touch or where to apply pressure. Jason had just the presence of mind to remember that he was hit by a ricochet bullet, shot in the back by a projectile that should have, by all means, missed. Dick wouldn't have seen him get shot, just the aftermath. The poor idiot was babbling like a soaking wet domesticated house cat, probably thinking he was shot somewhere much more important than his rear end. Like his heart or something.

"Hip-" Jason gasped, and then groaned when hands immediately landed at the area just to the side of the small of his back. It hurt like a bitch, that was for sure, but it really couldn't have gotten that deep. It probably just entered him at an angle instead of straight on. More torn flesh that way. And Jason knew from experience that the pain of a wound didn’t necessarily correlate with how deep the said wound ran. It could be how long it was. How gaping. How beaten and bruised.

It seemed silly to drop from a wound such as this. He could hear Dick muttering about how it didn't look horrible and that Jason probably didn't need a hospital and most likely didn't get hit in the bone, but it still hurt. A lot.

He sucked in a deep, lungful of air, then forced his head to turn towards where they had been previously fighting a group of thugs who thought they could mug some beanpole old man. Confusion washed over him slowly. The thugs… they were so determined to fight Nightwing and Red Hood when they showed up. One of them was even bragging about having fought one of the bats before. Which Jason doubted. They probably ran away from whatever illegal activity they were doing before the bats actually arrived, but put that little white lie on their criminal resume to get hired for big gigs more easily. If they'd fought a bat before, they wouldn't be so excited to fight them again.

Regardless, the guy was excited and trigger happy, even after the man they were trying to mug managed to escape. You could probably guess who managed to get a one-in-a-million shot on Jason without having to be told.

That all added up to why Jason was confused at this moment, laying on the ground, hands on his back that pressed down with way more force than Jason thought necessary. The alley was empty. Not a thug in sight. No unconscious bodies with hands restrained and a note taped to their foreheads for the cops. Nada. Goose Egg.

"Wh- where-?" Jason tried, but talking made everything hurt .

Thankfully though, Dick knew what he was trying to ask. "They ran off after they realized they shot you. Got cold feet."

Jason opened his mouth, but ground it shut as Dick increased the pressure with one hand and removed the other to probably get some bandages going. Jason just breathed for a moment. Catch his breath. Bring the focus of his attention away from the hole in his back to return to the matter at hand.

When Dick pressed a thick sheet of cotton over the wound, Jason knew the next few minutes would be agonizing; as Jason would soon be sat up to allow bandages to be freely wrapped around his hips and stomach. He opened his mouth before Dick could begin the process and forced the words out.

"You let them run?"

"Of course," Dick grumbled, and Jason wasn't sure if he said it as a “ yes Jason, because I love you I let the enemies go so I could take care of you !” or a “ of course you'd ask this, geeze, so annoying…” kind of way.

Jason was offended either way.

When Dick forced him up so he's sitting and leaning heavily against the older hero, he was positive he saw stars. Bright, flashing starts shining through the constant murk that was Gotham's sky. Or maybe he was just in intense pain.

Oh well.

Dick wrapped the wound—working with way more clockwork and practice than what any normal person without a medical degree should be able to do—then, at the count of three he lifted Jason by grabbing the arm of Jason's good side and wrapping it around his shoulders. Jason could barely contain a yelp as he was lifted to his feet. His hip screamed at him, trying to get him to fall back down and just lay there. Probably just die there. He had to force every ounce of his willpower into moving his good leg, dragging his bad one behind him, as Dick struggled to carry his weight out of the alleyway.

Not so happy to be small and quick now, huh Grayson? Rethinking those offers Jason had made months ago to teach you how to go make more muscle and maybe even get a little taller? Pathetic. Can't even drag Jason's injured ass out of an alleyway without breaking a sweat on your forehead.

"M'not that heavy," Jason grumbled anyways though when Dick began to release small, panting puffs of air.

"You're heavier than B," Dick wheezed, "so shut the fuck up."

Jason lifted an eyebrow under his helmet. He was sure Dick could sense his amusement, if the twitch of his lips were anything to go by. "How do you know how heavy B is?"

"Oh you know," Dick said in a mock-sigh, his voice almost singsong, "I'm always saving everyone's asses. Drag each of you to a med bay at least once a month. Did you know Orphan is heavier than Red but not as heavy as Spoiler?"

"Do you want Orphan and Eggplant to kill you?"

Dick let out a bubbling laugh, which made Jason wonder if Tim, Cass, then Steph was really the order of that scale. Jason wouldn’t linger on it for long though, because they've finally made it to where they've parked their bikes. Jason immediately began to plan on how he was going to ride to his nearest house without passing out in Gotham late-night traffic. The dead-hours of night always brought out the best and worst in Gotham drivers. He'd have to manage. He did it before.

However, all of his plans suddenly flew out the window as Dick disregarded his own blue and black bike and proceeded to try and force Jason into the passenger seat of his own bike.

"I can-"

"I'll cuff you if I have to Hood," Dick snapped, though there was mirth and amusement in his tone. "I'm driving you."

"You're not ," Jason grunted though clenched teeth as he inevitably lost the battle with Dick and was forced into the passenger space. "You're gonna take me to the manor if I let you drive."

"Yeah?"

" No ."

Dick sighed then stepped away from the bike, planting hands on his hips as he gave that disappointed older brother pout he'd been working on and improving for the past decade. It worked on most everyone except Jason and maybe Cass. Jason was immune to the Older Brother Pout™. Still didn't stop Dick from giving it.

"Little Wing, you have a bullet in your back."

"Woah, thanks for telling me, I didn't know!"

Now Dick looked a little annoyed. Good. "Jay-"

"No," Jason snapped, desperately wanting to stand up and cuss him out like he deserved. "We'll go to my safehouse."

"What one?" Dick argued and angrily Jason threw his hands in the air on instinct.

The action sent bolts into his back, making his brain short circuit as his body tried to figure out if it wanted to bend forward or back. In the end, it didn't matter, because like the absolute bastard he was, Dick used his pain as a distraction to jump onto the sitting space in front of him. He turned on the engine and Jason felt himself go boneless, the pain of the wound on his back ate up his energy more violently than a crocodile. His metal helmet slammed against Dick's back, and when he felt the bike jolt with motion, he angrily, carefully, and reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dick's waist.

"'ny of them," Jason mumbled, blinking blurry shapes from the corners of his eyes. "Ju's don' take me t'the manor…"

"Alright," Dick chimed, revving the engine. He sounded too happy about something, but Jason was too focused on holding on and ignoring the pounding hole in his back to question it too much.

Dick drove with more caution than what he normally did. Jason had ridden with Dick on bikes and in cars before, and the guy is borderline psychotic while driving. Jason supposed it was because his adrenaline junky tendencies mixed with the famous Blüdhaven road rage to create a man to be feared on any sane roads. Or as same as Gotham got. Jason swore Dick was always on the horn, always looking for that split second window to speed up and get to where he wanted as fast as possible. He wasn't a dangerous driver, just one that wasn't one to trifle with when in the zone of driving. Yet now, while the speed was fast and the spaces between cars was utilized to get the cycle through quicker, there were hardly any other risks involved. No running lights, no cutting it close between cars, no sharp and split second turns. Everything was calculated and smooth, and Jason made a mental note to mention it to him later.

So you do know how to drive?

With the hum of the engine and the warm body in front of him, it became rather difficult to keep his eyes open. A weary cloud had slowly begun to settle around him, probably not because of any blood-loss but because of falling levels of adrenalin and perhaps mild shock. He squeezed his arms tight around Dick's chest—he silently promised that if Dick mentioned this as a hug he would lose it—and let his eyes fall shut. He would just rest them… for a little while. He had a long night ahead of him. One of digging out a bullet and stitching the wound shut. He should guilt trip Dick into going out to buy ice cream or takeout chinese later.

And thankfully, focusing on the sounds around him by having his eyes closed helped him ignore the pain. Well, not all of it. It was there. Just… muted.

He could relax to this.

It was a pity all the peace and relaxation left the moment the bike suddenly dipped in altitude, the sounds of the city becoming the seemingly endless echoes of the bike itself. Jason snapped open his eyes, recognizing the dark tunnel around him. A growl escaped his throat.

"Dick," he hissed. Or well, grumbled. His voice was slurred and definitely sounded as tired as he felt.

"Yup?" Dick replied like he was innocent. Jason will kill him.

"Safe. House."

"Yup." He popped the "p" on that one. Alright. Jason will definitely kill him.

"This isn't my safe house," he growled, putting as much force as he could into each syllable. " No manor."

"Kay," Dick hummed, "but I don't know where any of your safehouses are. So I thought, Jason doesn't want the manor, so where's the next best place?"

"The manor includes the cave, Dickhead!"

"Y'know, everytime you insult me with my own name it just gets more and more sad."

Jason wanted to scream. "I'll show you what's sa-"

The tunnel opened up, revealing one of the last places Jason was in the mood to be at. The Batcave was just as large, impressive, and condescending as ever. Dick came to a stop near where the rest of the vehicles in the cave were parked, killed the engine, then stuffed the keys into his gauntlets so Jason couldn't snatch them and drive away in a pain filled haze and probably crash in the straight and narrow tunnel used to get here. Dick looked up from the bike, smiled, and waved.

Jason wanted to shoot something. With rubber bullets, don't worry, but he still wanted to shoot something.

Of course Batman and Robin couldn't be out in the city right now. Of course they were right here, a good distance away near the batcomputer, both standing up to curiously regard their guests.

"Don't tell the truth of how it happened," Jason said quickly.

Dick scoffed and dropped his hand, using the other to tear off the edge of his mask. "I don't even really understand what happened-"

Jason glared. "Just make me sound cool, alright? I have a reputation. Can't have them know I was taken out by street level thugs."

"Don't worry, Jay," Dick assured, jumping off the bike and grabbing Jason's arm again, grunting under the weight to eventually help Jason to his feet. "I'll make sure your ego isn't bruised."

"Ya better."

"Richard," came the voice of the most tater tot boy to ever tater tot. "… Jason." There was only one kid that could say someone's name like it was a poison that tasted good. Jason looked up from where he'd been focusing on his feet to see the kid had ran up to get ahead of the big man.

He grinned wickedly, because he loved watching the kid be a little unnerved by him. Not in a rude way. Just in a " hell yeah, little man, I'm your second eldest brother and you gotta respect me " kinda way.

"Hey, short stack," Jason waved half-heartedly as Dick began to guide him over to the medbay. Alfred, who was standing by the computer, looked Jason up and down, sighed, then walked over to the medbay as well. "How's the cow? Ready for the grill yet?"

"Batcow is fine," Damian replied civilly. Jason wondered why that was. Normally the kid was ready to throw down at the slightest tiny itty bitty inkling of a suggestion of cooking any of his pets. Jason wasn't even subtle about it this time. And Damian also had issues with comments of his perfectly normal for a thirteen year-old shortness. Jason honestly expected reddening, bloating cheeks and narrowed eyes. Instead, Damian looked him up and down, his green eyes calculative and his posture looking oddly like he was trying to convince himself to say something more.

Luckily, or unluckily in many cases, Bruce came up before this odd little exchange could be explored more.

"What happened?" He demanded in that worried-but-constipated-about-it way of his that he was always so good at.

Jason saw Dick open his mouth and he prepared himself for the coming lecture. Always be ready for an attack, Jason. Be prepared for anything. Even if the enemy is low level street muggers who barely even know how to hold a gun, Jason. Ugh.

"I shot Jason."

Aaaand Jason now remembered that Dick was literally the worst liar in the whole entire goddamn world. Alright. Jason could work with this.

"Yup. Dick shot me," Jason agreed, probably enjoying Bruce's frown way too much. Bruce walked around towards their backs and Jason fought a tense as a hand barely even brushed across the bandage around his lower abdomen.

"Richard wouldn't shoot anyone, even someone as annoying as you," Damian argued, looking genuinely outraged and confused.

"I'm sorry, Dami," Dick continued, sighing in mock apology as he continued to drag Jason closer to the medbay. "I finally snapped."

"No you didn't!"

"I did, and I'll do it again!"

Jason tuned out the coming shouting match between a literal child and Damian. That would keep them occupied. He side-eyed over to where Bruce was walking besides them, looking torn between walking ahead to the bay or helping Dick carry Jason. It was times like these that Jason found himself more grateful than ever for his helmet, it allowed him to watch as Bruce has a whole mini crisis, trying to decide what to do with his hands, without Bruce actually seeing him paying attention to that stuff.

"B," Jason tried, and somehow his voice carried over regardless of Damian's shouting about how Dick wasn't secretly a murderous psychopath who had been repressing his violent urges up until this point. Dick really was going to stick with that story huh?

Bruce's eyes flickered up towards Jason, looking immediately guarded. Jason knew it was a front. So he reached up with his free hand and took off his helmet. He proceeded to look Bruce directly in the eyes.

He tried a smile, even though he really didn't want to be here in the cave right now. He'd rather be at home, watching replays of Harry Potter and stuffing his face with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. But, he supposed, if he was going to be forced to be here via one stubborn prick of a brother, pun intended, then he was going to do his best to be as civil as Damian was a moment ago.

He had a reputation to keep up, after all. Jason didn't get gunned down by street muggers, and he didn't lower himself below the only kid in the cave.

"Why don'cha help out, yeah?" Jason asked, "Dick is tiny and slow and my back hurts."

Dick squawked. "I take offence to that! I might just shoot you again, Hood!"

"Stop it Richard! You don't shoot people!"

"I can't help it, little D! The urge to shoot people is stronk ."

Damian groaned at the horrible attempt at gen z slang while Bruce slowly and almost... timidly grabbed Jason's other arm and immediately sped up the process of getting him towards the ever awaiting Alfred and the cot behind him.

Jason tried to not focus too hard on that. Of how far they have fallen from when Jason was still young. Robin. Full of magic.

He tried not to think about how far they have come from when Jason was stuffing heads in duffle bags.

He just allowed Bruce to take him to the cot and gently set him down, shooing Dick and Damian away as Alfred approached with the tools he needed.

Dick was correct in saying that the bullet didn't go in far, and Jason was right that it went in weirdly and that was why it was so painful. After an excruciating makeshift surgery and a stitching session, Jason reluctantly allowed himself to be lowered into the cot. He was all tuckered out. He was so tired from the entire night that he couldn't keep his eyes open, even though Bruce was in the same room and Jason still didn't feel comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He might have imagined it, but when he was a sliver away from falling fully into a deep sleep, he might have felt something warm and calloused grab his hand and stroke the joint of Jason's thumb. The hands holding his own were easy to recognize. Bruce had unique hands. He might have felt weirded out by that, that Bruce was holding his hands as he fell asleep, or maybe annoyed. But like he said, he was too exhausted to really… care.

Too tired to know if it was real.

"I'm glad you're safe, Jay-lad," Bruce whispered. Or maybe he didn't.

Jason was too far gone by then.

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

Corporate Rescue

Where the rescue turns out to be supervisor material. Also on AO3 for those wishing not to hunt through my tags.

Kris stumbled through the airlock with SecUnit only a few meters behind and holding a body in an EVAC suit in its arms. While my co-pilot struggled to get his bearings and remove the heavy spacesuit, the construct briskly escaped its own and began cutting the person they rescued out of a pristine, clearly new EVAC suit.

Never mind the new hole in the construct’s shoulder.

I ran over to meet them with a smart first-aid kit and knelt beside the unconscious newcomer. She looked fair and slender, a supermodel with pristine skin and beautifully painted nails. Her eyes were closed, and I could see the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest.

Not dead, then. I let go of a breath I didn’t remember holding.

While the medkit began running basic diagnostics and attempted to wake the woman, SecUnit stepped over to Kris and assisted him with the spacesuit. My XO pulled away from the construct the moment he was able and came to stand beside me.

He stared critically down at the corporate and groaned. “Be careful with her, Cass. These people are snakes.”

I opened my mouth to ask who ‘these people’ were when the woman revived with help from the kit’s automated systems. Dark, narrow eyes regarded first me and then Kris, their gaze dozed and unfocused. It took another minute for the woman to consciously recognize what she was looking at.

“Hello,” I said when the stranger looked at me again and offered a welcoming smile. “My name’s Cass, and you’re aboard my ship, Serenity. We rescued you from the wreckage of a ship. How’re you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

“Shit,” the stranger hissed and sat up, her movements suddenly frantic.

“It’s all right. You’re safe,” I tried to explain. “We won’t hurt you.”

Kris whispered in my ear, “That’s not how rescue operations work in the Rim.”

Meanwhile, the woman’s eyes zeroed in on me. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Faster than I thought possible, she pulled a small gun out of her belt and aimed it at me. “I’m commandeering this ship. Take me back to the station immediately.”

I stared at the business end of a gun and froze. While fear and horror chased each other in my mind, SecUnit moved with inhuman speed and yanked the weapon out of the corporate’s hand before she had a chance to react. A moment later, it took a defensive position behind me and leveled the gun at the newcomer.

Our guest gasped when she saw the CombatUnit and appeared to recognize it. Her posture relaxed slightly, as though she felt better now that she knew the Combat SecUnit existed. Kris tensed beside me.

“Combat SecUnit J1471E, stand down and return the weapon to me,” she ordered in a voice tinged with authority. This was a human used to barking orders and receiving immediate obedience.

The construct’s gaze never shifted from its target, but through our shared connection, I could feel its uncertainty and frustration. It was silently asking me for guidance and permission. Did I want it to obey the human and stand down? I was SecUnit’s handler at the moment, and it was relying on me to interpret the situation.

It wasn’t unlike what I had to do for Serenity occasionally.

Silently, I reassured the construct. Out loud, I said, “SecUnit, you do not need to stand down, but please try not to hurt anyone.”

J1471E nodded once and lowered its weapon after flipping the safety back on. Understood. To the newcomer, it added, Unit is unable to comply.

Its internal feed voice sounded no different than usual; it was the same neutral tone I was starting to familiarize myself with. But I could’ve sworn that it had wanted to say those words to this particular individual for a long time.

“CombatUnit, I am your primary handler. Your obedience is not optional. If you fail to comply in a timely fashion, I will activate your governor, and you know what that’s like.” The threat in the corporate’s voice was unmistakable.

SecUnit didn’t move, didn’t even blink. It had more self-control than I did at that moment. “I don’t know who you are,” I said, voice steely with anger, “but this is my ship and SecUnit is a guest here. Please stop trying to order it around.”

“J1471E, why are you not responding?” the woman asked, ignoring me completely.

“Leave Jae alone,” I told her, shortening the construct’s designation to a more human-sounding name. I couldn’t bring myself to call the SecUnit by its serial number. “It doesn’t have to answer you if it doesn’t want to.”

Now I had her undivided attention. “And what do you know about constructs, little girl?”

“More than enough,” I grumbled and stood up. I felt qualified to be a little pissed at the woman's tone of voice. Having spent hours and a migraine rooting around in my own augments, I knew a little something about how CombatUnits worked.

I glanced at the SecUnit and saw it mouthing the word ‘Jae’ several times even as its attention remained on the corporate. Kris reached over, took the gun from SecUnit’s hands, and shoved it into his belt.

“Let’s not share anything that’s not absolutely necessary with the unknown stranger we’ve just rescued,” my XO suggested in a reasonable tone of voice. He nodded toward the woman. “Tell us your name.”

“Tatiana,” the woman ground out.

“Good, now get up.” Kris’s smile was wicked. “I assume you’re well acquainted with the capabilities of a CombatUnit. Yes? Keep those in mind when contemplating your next course of action.”

“Kris,” I hissed. I didn’t want anyone threatening anyone else today.

My co-pilot turned to me and shook his head. “Not now, Cass.” Meanwhile, the woman got up slowly and put her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“Great. Come with me,” Kris said and gestured carelessly with his gun for Tatiana to walk ahead of him down the corridor.

I looked at SecUnit instead of following Kris and put a reassuring hand on its arm. “Are you all right?”

Performance rating at 63% and dropping. The construct visibly winced. Unit will recover shortly.

I wanted to reach out and give the SecUnit a hug but didn’t know if it would appreciate the gesture. Instead, I said, “Do you like Jae? As a name, I mean. I’m sorry I called you that. I just… your serial number sounded too clinical.”

Jae is acceptable.

“Good. OK. Let’s get you to medical to look at that shoulder.” It wasn’t bleeding, but even through the construct’s skinsuit, I could easily see the injury. “Serenity has assigned you a cabin, if you’d rather go there.”

This unit would like to check the ship’s security posture, if permission is granted.

“You may do whatever you feel is necessary, Jae, as long as you eventually visit medical. Is that all right?”

The SecUnit’s mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile. Affirmative.

SecUnit departed, and I went to help Kris deal with our corporate guest.

#murderbot #combat secunit #adoption #fanfiction #ao3

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valorblooded · 3 years

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“Get down!”

A hail of bullets showered down over their heads as Connor was all but thrown to the floor. An ambush-- as if it could even be called that-- had broke out in one of the more rundown and emptied warehouses. There had been some decently sourced entail of Revara having stored some guns and drugs, and it was right. It just failed to mention the goons had been held up in the joint for days already.

The only thing that could make this better was if the bastard himself had the balls to join his men in the steak-out. The bitter thought made Connor’s mouth dry and the hand holding the fully loaded gun tremble.

The entire plan had been a simple one. Three groups of his men, the first entered from the back, the second from the side entrance, and the third from the catwalk. If there was anyone, they would be the first to react. And they were, because if they weren’t, they would be dead instead of penned in various locations around this abandoned shake.

Drix was yelling, panic rising in his voice as he spouted off orders, left and right, into his walkie-talkie. Keeping their men focused on why they even came here. The men on the catwalk was keeping most of the fire back, penning down the main point of Revara’s men down.

Their barricade of boxed ratty shipment must be filled with heavy metal machinery with how the bullets never made it through it, but bounced off at odd angles with high pitched dings. A hand was put on Drix’s shoulder as Connor returned fire briefly. A man from across the building shouted in pain.

Hunkering back down, Connor spoke into his own walkie-talkie. “Group C, retreat from the rafters. Circle around to the front, and watch your backs.”

To his credit, Drix waited until after Connor released his finger on the device and after another shower of bullets rained down before questioned, “Why the hell did you tell them that? They are keep those bastards from swarming us!”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re spread thin as is. We can surround them instead of cowering.”

“Cowering is keeping our dumbasses ALIVE.”

“Just breathe.”

There was humor in the calm way he handled active stress while his brother was seconds away from having a heart attack. The humor gets lost once the adrenaline leaves his system and he’s sick for a few days but that was later Connor’s problem. With how a bullet got entirely too close, just grazing his side, Connor got the oddest sensation that he’d have to recover from more than just stress. He pressed closer to his brother as the seconds ticked by, the sound of reloading breaking the loud rhythm of bullets' ricocheting wildly.

He felt Drix curl in tighter, trembling and muttering, trying to fight off the panic attack that was already in progress. Can’t blame him for it, since that’s a normal response to the real threat to dying. Connor only gripped him tighter, allowing his masked face to press into his shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing.

With every deep breath, his hands steadied, until a man appeared on the opposite side of the boxes. At Drix’s back. Time slowed nearly completely in that moment. Too slow to swallow past the lump but fast enough to feel every gnaw of fear on his spine as he reacted faster than his mind could keep up. The click of the emptied chamber was the only thing that brought him back to the present.

The man was on the ground, he couldn’t even count the bullet holes that entered him, or the spray on the wall behind him. Drix was speaking from under him, high pitched, words running into each other that Connor only caught the tail end of it when Drix pressed his hand into shoulder and pulled it away, showing red dripping down his black gloved hand.

It certainly wasn’t the first time he got shot, and it wouldn’t be the last, he couldn’t even feel it, far too numb from the shock. Another hail of gunshots made them duck down lower. It was further away, and for a half second, Connor worried he was losing blood a bit too quickly, but the sound of the opposing men yelling, “Behind us! Turn aroun--” with many of the words being cut short with another volley of bullets.

“For fuck’s sake! Took them long enough,” Drix breathed out in shakily, keeping pressure on the fresh wound. Connor reloaded his gun.

“Its a big building, it’ll take a minute to walk around,” The snap of the clip felt grounding, as another deep breath was taken when he moved to aim and fire his gun with far more purpose than just protecting and surviving. The goons fell in waves with no where to hide.

Once the returning fire failed to sound off, a much needed breath of relief reverberated throughout the warehouse. Connor was the first to stand, with Drix keeping an iron clamp grip on his shoulder. Looking over the place, the damage was a tad extensive, bullet holes littered the walls, and the windows had been blasted out. With all that fire, even if the fight lasted shorter than ten minutes, they had to move quick. He could nearly hear the sirens on the wind.

Connor barked out orders, anyone injured immediately get removed while those capable spread out and look for what they came for. Which was unfortunate since he was also shoved outside as soon as he gave the command, and had to get the good news of the shipment being found from the back of a truck with a medic digging for the bullet.

“Pack it up so we can get the fuck out of here. Good work.” Drix replied when Connor didn’t, his ceramic mask not missing the stiffening as the numbness gave way to stark pain of having to look for a bullet in the dark. Moments later, a small metal shell was dropped into a plastic bag, and he was bandaged.

Meanwhile, crates upon crates were being pulled from the warehouse. They had enough trucks for it, they knew exactly how many that they wanted. It was satisfying watching the trucks get filled so efficiently.

What wasn’t satisfying was being shoved between his nagging brother and equally nagging medic into the back of the truck.

“What the hell is wrong with you? We had a plan, we follow the plan! What would’ve happened if you missed your shot, or if there were more than one of them, huh?”

“I’d get shot. More shot.” The reply earned him a smack on the back of his neck, a small price for smartassery.

“Sir, I am trained in emergency medicine. Not resurrection. Please take your Consigliere’s words to heart.” Josey, the medic, added in her two cents. She busied herself with rearranging the items in her medkit. Connor chose not to think about how often the thing gets opened for his behalf. Instead, he focused on the fatigue, the energy seeping from his limbs with every tired exhale. He wanted nothing more than to throw his helmet out of the window so he can breathe.

“Yeah, yeah , I get it. Consider it locked away in memory. We have a plan, we follow the plan, we get into a gun fight that lasts long enough for the police to show up, in which we fight them if not all of us die in the spray of bullets, or we get captured to be locked up for life or to get the chair.” Tonight was a good night for them, no one died and supply stolen, “So how about you trust in your fucking boss to make the best decisions, yeah?”

Connor could feel Drix practically chew his tongue to keep quiet. The only good thing about this lopsided dynamic they have. He’ll get the earful later, like he always does, behind closed doors. On the other end, Josey simply closed her case and looked out the window. Cop cars raced down the street toward a scene that could be only described as a massacre. Probably. There really wasn’t much time to see what their handiwork looked like when he ushered out.

The truck driver waited. Sirens and lights illuminating the pitch black alleyways, but they were speeding far too fast to take notice. Silence on the radio meant no one else was having any problems with staying low either. A moment longer, they started to move on the road once again. Josey released a breath. Drix crossed his arms, facing the window.

A successful night.

#Plot Drabble #tw gun #tw gun use #tw blood #tw injury #tw panic attack #tw implied death #Not a Thread #Threads from now on will be based off the consequences of the aftermath of this drabble #including all new cases #tw gang violence

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skybird13 · 4 years

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A Selective Rewrite of Episode 12

Hey all! I know I’ve been pretty quiet the last couple of weeks, at least as far as my own posts have been concerned. I sort of allowed my school work to get away from me and had some catching up to do (*cough* still not caught up *cough*). But considering we still have yet to get a satisfying explanation for the creative decisions made throughout volume 7 for Qrow and Clover (especially in episode 12) I thought I’d put this one out here today.

Full disclosure, this post was supposed to come at the end of my “What Went Wrong” series, but the ideas for it keep rattling around in my brain and I need to get this out. (Also, sincere apologies for being so late on Part II of that series. It is coming, I promise. Writing up something like that takes a lot of time and effort.)

The whole point of the “What Went Wrong” series was to tweak the writing in episodes 1-11 so that episode 12 felt less detached from the rest of the volume.

The point of this rewrite is the opposite, in that I want to showcase one way in which episode 12 could have been written while maintaining the integrity of the writing in the rest of volume 7. With that in mind, here are my goals for it:

Avoid character assassination (i.e. keep everyone in character throughout the situation)

Maintain the relationship between Qrow and Clover

Acknowledge the “Lawful or Good” arc Clover was set up for throughout the volume

Still have it end with Clover’s death. I do this under the desperate assumption that Clover’s death is absolutely necessary plot reasons in volume 8.

A few things to note before I get started.

Firstly, I will be focusing exclusively on the events between Clover, Qrow, Robyn, and Tyrian. I had very few qualms with the rest of the episode.

Secondly, I have some very little experience writing screenplays, but keeping to the strict format of one would be absolute hell on this site. I’m going to do my best to encase character action, scene notes, etc. in [brackets] and character dialogue will be indented in quotations, but that’s about as formal as it’s going to get. So don’t look at this as a model for a professional screenplay. It won’t be and my own voice will probably creep in now and again for commentary or what have you.

Thirdly, not a lot of changes in the first part of the scene. Apart from a few tweaks, I thought it was fine. But the alterations will become far more noticeable as things progress and the ending, even with Clover’s death, will be drastically different.

[The scene opens the same way it does in canon with the black screen and Ruby’s VO repeating the lines about Ironwood abandoning Mantle. Then we’re in the transport ship with Clover, Qrow, Robyn, and Tyrian. For continuity’s sake, though, the camera work from the end of episode 11 is somewhat mirrored. Ruby gets cut off, within that wide-angle shot in episode 12 Robyn and Qrow look up at Clover, and then the camera cuts to Clover alone. We get to revisit his shell-shocked expression and the camera lingers on him while Robyn delivers her line.]

Robyn: Declaring martial law? We cannot let him do this. (oisl = original in-show line)

[With the camera still on Clover, we get to see him make the conscious effort to close himself off. The conflict in him gets pushed aside and his expression hardens. It’s clear here that he’s going to fall back on his loyalty to James, at least at first. This bit in the show was fine. I had no problem thinking that would be his initial response.]

Clover: Ms. Hill, I’m sure the General understands the enormity of his-- (oisl)

[Clover’s scroll beeps and cuts him off. He pulls it out, looks at it, and sees the orders to arrest Qrow. A shot of his face shows a flicker of emotion, something hesitant and sad. When he stands, his movements are heavy. Qrow sees him, and his own expression shifts into one of concern and confusion.]

Qrow: Clover? (oisl)

[Clover sighs and hesitates only slightly before approaching him. He doesn’t look happy but he does keep eye contact with Qrow and his posture is stiff.]

Clover (resigned, shut down): Qrow, I have orders to bring you in.

Tyrian (laughing): A free ride and a show. (oisl)

Clover: There’s also an alert out for Team RWBY’s arrest. (oisl)

Qrow (worried, scared): What? Has James lost his mind? (oisl)

Robyn: He’s trying to stop anybody who might get in the way of his inhumane plan. (oisl)

[Robyn stands and approaches Clover, engaging her weapon and pointing it at him. I also didn’t have much of a problem with this. At least Robyn had the precedent of being a bit impulsive.]

Robyn: Looks like he underestimated me. Again. (oisl)

Clover: Only Qrow is under arrest. After everything we’ve been through tonight, please don’t make me arrest you, too. (oisl)

[Robyn’s face hardens and she readies an arrow. Clover looks sad and disappointed, but he does still pull out Kingfisher. Qrow stands and gets in between them.]

Qrow: Knock it off, both of you! We’re not doing this. Not with him here.

[Qrow points at Tyrian who is sitting on the bench grinning at them. Robyn and Clover seem to remember exactly where they are and they lower their weapons.]

Qrow (to Robyn): Let’s get up to Atlas and we can talk to James personally. Maybe there’s something we’re missing.

[Robyn does not look happy about that. Qrow turns to Clover, expression hurt. He holds out his hands and takes a step towards him.]

Qrow: I’m not resisting.

[Clover doesn’t move right away. His resolve visibly cracks, giving us another glimpse at his internal conflict. He puts Kingfisher away, his hand shifting to the bolas on his hip, though he doesn’t actually make any move to put them on Qrow. Instead, he looks painfully torn.]

Clover: I don’t want to do this.

Qrow: Then don’t.

[A tense moment passes between them where neither of them moves and we’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen. Then, with the camera focused on Qrow, Robyn shifts back into the scene over his shoulder. She moves towards the door on the side of the ship.]

Robyn: If you want to hand yourself over, that’s fine. I’m going back to Mantle.

Clover: Ms. Hill, if you leave this transport, I can’t guarantee that someone will--

Robyn (vicious): I’m not asking for your guarantees. I should have known better than to trust you. You never cared about Mantle.

Clover (moving towards her): Robyn--

[Robyn lifts her weapon again and points it at him. Clover stops.]

Robyn: Back off, Clover. I won’t ask again.

[She reaches back for the door latch and pulls it to open it, but at that moment, the ship lurches. They all look up to the front of the ship to see Tyrian with the pilot’s hat on, laughing maniacally and clearly trying to crash the plane. Clover pulls Kingfisher out and launches the hook at him, but a bit of bad luck comes into play and it misses him, piercing the ship’s console or the windshield instead. Tyrian laughs, throws the plane into a nosedive, and all four of them are inside when it hits the ground.

Clover comes to first. He is lying in the pile of snow that got pushed in through the open side of the plane. Kingfisher is next to him but it’s broken, the line and hook having been ripped out of it by the force of the crash. He looks around and spots Qrow at the back of the ship, unconscious.

Placing a broken Kingfisher back on his hip, he crawls over to Qrow and checks his pulse. He lets out a small sigh of relief when he finds it.]

Clover (gently): Qrow. Can you hear me? I need you to wake up. Come on, wake up.

[After a beat, Qrow moans. His eyes flutter open and his face contorts in pain. Clover is visibly relieved.]

Clover: Are you hurt anywhere?

Qrow (voice tight with pain): My side.

[Clover quickly lifts his shirt and checks him, and basically has an “oh shit” reaction. There is deep bruising on Qrow’s side, suggesting some internal injury.]

Clover: Your aura’s broken.

Qrow (has his own oh shit reaction and then looks at Clover): Are you--

Clover: I’m fine.

Qrow (looking around the wreckage): Where’s Robyn?

Clover (darkly): Where’s Callows?

[They share a look that says they both know this is very bad. Clover sits back on his knees and Qrow tries to push himself up to recline against the wall of the ship, one arm wrapped around his middle. Clover reaches up to activate his earpiece.]

Clover: This is Clover requesting immediate emergency aid. Our ship went down and at least one of our party requires medical attention. (pause for a beat). Callows is unaccounted for.

[Several beats pass and Clover’s hand falls heavily back into his lap, implying a lack of verbal response.]

Qrow: Do you think they got it?

Clover: I don’t know.

[Clover stands and rifles through an overhead compartment in the ship. He shakes out a blanket and wraps Qrow in it. With a broken aura, Qrow has no defense against the cold. Then Clover looks around until he finds Harbinger near the front of the plane. He gets it and brings it back to Qrow, setting it beside him.]

Clover: I’m going to go look for Robyn. If Callows comes, shoot him.

[Qrow laughs a little and lays Harbinger across his lap. Clover takes the bolas off his belt and Qrow gives him a disbelieving look, thinking they’re for him.]

Qrow (flatly): Are you serious right now?

Clover (sets the bolas down in Qrow’s lap with a small smirk): In case shooting him doesn’t work.

[Clover stands and turns to go. Qrow catches his hand, prompting Clover to look back at him. This moment is weighted and intimate, expressions conveying concern for one another.]

Qrow (serious): Be careful.

Clover (reassuring): I’ll be right back.

[They let go of one another and Clover leaves. Qrow changes Harbinger into its shotgun form in preparation.

Scene change to outside. Clover climbs out of the ship and looks around the tundra. The shot establishes how far away they are from Mantle, how isolated they are, and finally pans over to some wreckage a little ways from the main part of the ship. Clover runs over and finds Robyn in the debris. He checks her pulse and is again relieved to find one.]

Tyrian (from behind): Well, well. That worked out better than I thought.

[Clover stands and pulls Kingfisher out, extending it to its full length. The camera makes sure to focus somehow on the warped end and frayed line. Tyrian notices the damage to the weapon and grins.]

Tyrian (sing-songy voice): Divide and conquer, as my Goddess says. There were three. And now there’s just you.

Clover: Tyrian Callows, surrender now and things will go much easier for you.

Tyrian (with a sinsiter laugh): Oh, I have something much more fun in mind.

[He engages his weapons, but instead of going for Clover, he runs for the rest of the ship. Clover’s expression shifts into one of pure panic.]

Clover: Qrow!

[Scene change to Qrow in the ship just as Tyrian runs through the door. Qrow is somewhat ready for him. He throws the bolas at Tyrian’s legs. Tyrian dodges but the bolas do force him to change his trajectory so he can’t land a direct hit on Qrow. Qrow shoots at him and manages to fend him off long enough for Clover to get there.

I’m not overly good with detailing fight scenes, so I’ll just try to give the broad strokes here.

Clover gets Tyrian out of the ship and engages him out in the open. Qrow drags himself to his feet and goes to the opening of the ship where he focuses on taking shots at Tyrian whenever Clover is far enough away from him to do so. Clover holds his own against Tyrian, but with Kingfisher broken, he’s at a severe disadvantage. He eventually takes a hard hit that shatters his aura. Tyrian is about to close in on him when Qrow takes another shot, having moved much closer. Tyrian turns and goes after Qrow instead. The altercation is extremely brief. With Qrow’s aura broken and his injury, Tyrian only has to land a single hit to get him to go down. Harbinger gets knocked from his hand in the process. Off to the side, Clover gets back to his feet. Qrow tries to reach for Harbinger but Tyrian gets to him and steps on his wrist, putting a blade to his throat. Qrow glares up at him, defiant. A moment passes in which Tyrian grins at him and Qrow’s expression shifts from defiant to confused to horrified. Just as Qrow begins to comprehend Tyrian’s plan, Clover comes up behind Tyrian to attack him. Tyrian turns, blocks with his wrist weapon things, while simultaneously grabbing Harbinger with his tail (it’s been established that his tail is that dextrous) and using it to kill Clover.]

Qrow: No!

[Clover falls to the ground. Qrow’s expression is one of horror. He tries to stand but can’t quite get to his feet.]

Qrow (to Tyrian): I’ll kill you! (oisl)

Tyrian: You mean like you just killed Clover? (oisl)

[Overhead, the ships that Clover called for are arriving. Tyrian grins and throws Harbinger a few feet away.]

Tyrian: I’d love to stay and watch, but you know my history with the authorities. Until next time, Qrow.

[Tyrian turns and sprints back towards Mantle. Qrow watches him go for a moment, furious, and then he crawls over to Clover. Maybe he even takes off his cape and tries to staunch the bleeding.]

Clover: Qrow...

Qrow: I’m here. The ships are coming. All you have to do is hold on.

Clover: I’m so sorry.

Qrow: Don’t. Don’t do that. Just... Stop talking. You’re not dying out here.

Clover (gently): Qrow.

Qrow (fierce): No!

[Qrow visibly struggles to hold himself together.]

Qrow (pleading): Please stay.

Clover (softly): I wish I could.

[Qrow breaks and starts to cry. Clover looks over and sees the sun rising. Then he looks back to Qrow and smiles.]

Clover: I’m glad I met you. (If you want to be cheesy, you could even go with “I’m lucky I met you.”)

[The light fades out of his eyes and he’s gone. Qrow screams in agony.

End scene.]

There you have it. The only thing missing is Qrow’s promise to get vengeance on James, but that motivation could easily have been communicated in episode 13 with little more than some strategic camera shots, the fact that Qrow has Clover’s pin, and Qrow’s expression turning from one of sorrow to one of rage as they approach Atlas. Seriously. He could have looked out the front window, seen Atlas Academy, closed his hand around the pin, and gone from looking numb to looking pissed. That’s all that would have been needed.

No one had to step out of character for this to happen. The relationship that CRWBY worked so hard to build between Clover and Qrow throughout the volume, whether you saw it as romantic or not, would have been maintained. And the end result is still the same: Clover is dead and Qrow is framed for it.

Really not that hard.

#fair game #rwby #rwby7 #clover deserved better #episode 12 rewrite #I'm exhausted #tw: clover death

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archadianskies · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 29

Emergency Room → part of the MT-RK900 and companion piece to [Numbness]

Whumptober Masterlist | 29/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Gun Violence × Gunshot wounds × Medical Procedures × Hurt/Comfort × Father-Son Relationship × Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings

{Character sheet + bonus art here, and here. }

Today he has been rostered to work at Detroit Metro. It means he will be treating humans instead of androids, and he appreciates the ever changing pace his joint schedule sets. There aren’t many android surgeons here, mainly android nurses, and those that are surgeons like himself are all in trauma where literal steady, unwavering hands are required.

There is also less chance of rejection by patients, the situation too dire for their prejudices to cloud their judgement. Not that that means Ronan is immune, though. He has seen the distaste on their faces, their disdain, their disapproval at the glowing blue medic crosses on his uniform instead of red. His LED still spins true at his temple, and he has no desire to remove it in order to be mistaken for one of them.

There are advantages to it, of course, and he is a unique model like his brothers before him so removing his LED will fastrack his acceptance by humans. Sort of. There’s still the cold weather activated white hair and mouth full of sharp teeth to overcome, of course.

The red phone shrills for attention and his keen hearing picks up the call from the other end of the Resusc. Bay as the ED clerk answers it. The data she taps into the tablet feeds directly onto his HUD in real time.

[ Male victim with four gunshot wounds, critical but stable condition. Incoming from a shootout at Jericho Memorial Bay, ETA five minutes ]

Jericho Bay. Ronan frowns. Connor has a case investigating a warehouse at Jericho Memorial Bay, the alleged base of operations for an android kidnapping ring brazenly functioning within close proximity to Jericho.

“Alright listen up- we’re going to need the trauma cart loaded with the usual.” Dr Fitzpatrick, trauma unit Director, commands and Ronan steps closer to stand attentively with the team. “Have Pearl on standby from Cardio, have extra transfusion units ready. Quick assessment, quick stabilisation, then straight into surgery with Anderson and I.” She pauses as new information feeds onto her tablet and scrolls across Ronan’s HUD. “Victim arriving shortly is... Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the DPD.” The room goes still, all eyes suddenly on him. Dr Fitzpatrick presses her mouth into a tight line and he already knows. He knows his hair has blanched white from the sudden spike in stress, his LED likely a glaring red.

“That’s-” His voice comes out as static and somehow nothing feels real. “He’s my father.”

“Yes.” She nods slowly. “He is. And we’re going to do our damn hardest to save his life, aren’t we?” He hesitates for a moment too long and her expression hardens. “You are the trauma surgeon on-call today. Do I need to find another?”

“No, ma’am.” Ronan shakes his head.

“Good.” She taps his nametag. “Then you have to suck it up, take all these feelings, shove them in a box, and get on with it.”

The ambulance bay doors open and there’s an influx of activity, a swarm of EMTs rushing the gurney to them. There’s Connor, red LED blaring like an ambulance light. He’s bleeding, Ronan can identify two gunshot wounds leaking thirium steadily but more alarming is the amount of red blood all over the front of his clothes. Their father’s blood.

“He’s lost consciousness in the last three minutes, but was coherent before that.” The EMTs relay their information and he notes them all down and he tries, oh he tries not to see his father lying there dangerously pale as they begin to cut away his clothing to better access his wounds. He takes all his feelings and he traps them in a box, taping it shut and kicking it behind him so he can focus on the task at hand.

“Ronan, oh Ronan-!” Connor grabs his arm, expression wild and desperate as tears cut tracks through the blood and grime on his face. He calmly pries his brother’s hand off and looks at him sternly.

“I need you to step away and let us do our job so we can save his life.”

“I’m sorry, yes- of course, I’ll-” Connor stammers, backing out of the throng. Ronan turns away and Dr Fitzpatrick conducts them like a well tuned orchestra, each of them a part to play, each of them crucial in bringing together the symphony.

Hank is wheeled into the operating theatre and Ronan stands in the special sterilisation chamber to ensure he’s properly sterile to perform surgery. The sudden jets of chemicals wash away the traces of his father’s blood, his brother’s blood, that had been pressed to his uniform. He will be covered in blood again soon enough.

“Ready, Anderson?” Dr Fitzpatrick prompts as the nurse ties the smock closed at her back. He looks down at his father and closes his eyes briefly. This is just another man. Just another patient. He opens his eyes and nods.

“Ready, Doctor.”

*~*

The box stays shut, well and truly, even after the last stitch is in place and the thread is cut. He’s covered in his father’s blood, but Hank Anderson lives to fight another day. Dr Fitzpatrick’s hand squeezes his shoulder.

“Go give the good news to your brother. We’ll get your father to ICU.” She orders before looking at him sternly. “Then come back here to clean up.”

His brother is pacing the hallway, back and forth, LED a stark red glow that can be seen clearly from afar.

“Connor.” He keeps his tone calm and neutral as Connor snaps to attention. “He made it.”

A strangled sound escapes his mouth and then he’s running to close the distance between them, throwing his arms around Ronan. The blood of their father stains them both.

“Thank you.” He sobs, and Ronan tightens his embrace as Connor buries his face in his shoulder. “Thank you.” He says again, and Ronan knows he’s so very close to falling apart. He feels the same.

“He’ll be taken to the ward to recover and he won’t surface for a few hours yet.” He pulls away just far enough so their eyes meet. “Go home and take care of Sumo, then come back here.”

There’s something numb about the way Connor nods, the way his feet seem to carry him of their own accord back down the hallway and then out towards the main lobby.

The tape around the box starts to fray as Ronan heads back into the operating theatre. He stands under the chemical jets as they wash away all evidence of the operation. He watches as Dr Fitzpatrick removes the apron and gloves, binning them before standing at the door of the chamber to wait for him.

“Good job, Anderson.” Her voice is softer now, no longer the conductor keeping everyone in check. “Now I want you to go up to the roof the long way, via the fire escape. When you get to the roof, I want you to walk four laps around before coming back down.”

“I don’t understand,” he frowns, brows creasing. “What purpose would that serve?”

“You have to open that box, Ronan.” She taps his chest with her knuckles. “Either you open it and give yourself time to process its contents, or the box explodes when you least want it to and everything spills into your life.”

Detroit Metro is eight storeys high. He takes the stairs and pries at the tape holding the box shut little by little; the higher he climbs the more tape is peeled away. When he pushes open the fire escape door and steps out onto the roof, the box is well and truly open. He thinks it shouldn’t affect him anymore- his father is out of surgery and stable, and will recover in the ICU. It shouldn’t affect him and yet all he can see is Hank’s pale face and blood, so much blood.

What if he’d failed? What if Hank had died right there on the table because he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t skilled enough? What would his life even be like, without Hank in it? He walks around the perimeter of the roof, and he thinks of returning to their family home permanently without Hank. It would feel empty, there would be a void where Hank should be but won’t be.

Ronan is struck by how deeply, how tightly the bonds are between the three of them- Hank, Connor and him. They are so intrinsically woven into his life that to imagine any measure of time without them causes him immense distress. His hands are trembling, he realises belatedly, as he finds himself in front of the fire escape door. Lap one complete.

He puts one foot in front of the other, and he remembers his first night at the Anderson house, before he had a name, when he was still the Hound and the world above was entirely new. He remembers Hank’s heavy hand on his shoulder, his gentle tone as he called him kid and not dog. He had given him clothes and privacy to shower and let him pet his dog and trust him enough, believing that he would not cause them harm though he very well could have killed him easily. It was with Hank, in those few hours, that Ronan learned the meaning of ‘soft’ both in texture and in emotion.

He thinks of Hank’s embrace this very morning, before Ronan headed out to his shift. How warm, how soft it was, how tight and full of love it was and how Ronan believed not too long ago he deserved none of those things until Hank taught him he most certainly did. The man asked for nothing in return, not a single thing. He took Ronan’s existence, his presence in stride as if he was meant to care for him all along. Lap two complete.

Even before Alexei’s mutilations, Ronan had not been built for love. The RK900 was built for war, for violence, given no social programming and no complex facial expressions. He was expected to follow orders and carry them out without question, and achieve whatever missions were given to him. Love was something Ronan had to learn, and even the word itself had been foreign to him.

For the longest time all he knew was hurt and not-hurt. And then there was Connor, and then there was Hank, and then there was Simon. He called it a good-hurt, the feeling associated with them. A hurt that wasn’t painful, a hurt that wasn’t associated with violence or the lack thereof. A good-hurt. Love. RK900s were not built to love but he learned how to love, because Hank Anderson saw a son worth loving and not the war machine CyberLife built, not the Hound Alexei cobbled together.

He stops partway through lap three and his stress levels are dangerously high. Suddenly all he wants is for the world to stop so he can cope with the influx of emotions, so he can properly shoulder their weight. He wants it to be this morning again, he wants Hank to hold him and squeeze him close. He wants Hank to be okay again, he wants, more than anything, for Hank not to be in ICU with weeks of recovery ahead.

He calls Simon. He knows it’s selfish, he knows since Simon is one of the Four, the founder of the Four, he will have a lot on his plate to manage but Ronan feels like he’s drowning and he knows Simon can make it stop.

[Is everything alright?] Simon asks immediately and Ronan sinks down onto the ground, leaning against the railing. [There was a big shootout at one of the warehouses at Jericho Bay. The guards told us there was heavy police presence, so we assumed Connor and Lieutenant Anderson were there.]

‘Hank was shot four times.’ Ronan looks at his hands and they’re covered in blood, trembling violently. ‘I had to operate on him.’

[Oh ra9.] Simon breathes, and he can already picture the worried look that must be on his face.

‘He made it through, but he’ll be here for a while.’

[Are you alright?] Simon presses, and Ronan absolutely is not alright. He feels like he’s coming apart at the seams, like he’s held together with nothing but tape that’s slowly fraying and coming unstuck.

‘No.’ He cannot lie to Simon, ever. ‘But I will be.’

[I’ll come over. You’re still at Detroit Metro, right? I’ll take a taxi and be there soon.]

‘No, no it’s alright.’ Ronan buries his face in his hands and his cheeks are wet and he is definitely not alright. ‘I’ll be needed soon, and you’re needed, always, at Jericho. I just wanted to hear your voice.’

[Ronan are you sure?]

‘I am.’ There’s a long pause and he thinks Simon might disregard his reassurances and head over anyway and if he does that, then Ronan will most certainly fall apart.

[I’ll come by when you finish your shift.] Simon vows. [In the meantime, let me give you something to help keep your head up. I love you.]

It’s a file, and being sent from a PL600 means it will take some time to make it over in smaller fragments. Ronan gets up, wiping his face and rubbing his eyes before finishing lap three. It takes him nearly all of lap four before the file transfer is complete, and his system easily pieces it together. It’s a memory file. Ronan pauses at the door as he opens the memory.

It’s from his day off a fortnight ago, but this time it’s from Simon’s point of view. He sees himself as Simon wakes up, and he feels his own fingers carding through Simon’s hair as Simon brims with affection and fondness.

“Mmmm,” Simon sighs contentedly, his hand sliding up along Ronan’s jaw to mirror the gesture. “Did you sleep well?” He nods. Simon feels safe, completely and utterly safe in his arms and that is something he learned many deviants never achieve. Like so many others, deviancy had been a harrowing journey for Simon and that meant being on high alert at all times, even when trying to rest, just in case danger presented itself and they needed to flee for their lives.

There is no higher level of love reached than when a deviant feels safe enough to sleep around another. It is a gesture of absolute trust when they are at their most vulnerable. They go about their morning with no real rush, no real purpose since both of them have no other objectives that day. Simon radiates love, he is at his very core a deviant who deviated out of love and it is love he tries to give to any and all he interacts with even if they never reciprocate.

The sun shines through the kitchen window and they stand in the warm patch splashed against the kitchen counter as they sip their morning Tearium. Simon looks at him and feels wave after wave of love. After a moment he watches himself step closer, enfolding the PL600 in a loose embrace from behind as Simon hums. The memory ends and Ronan no longer feels like he’s fraying, like he’s falling apart. He feels whole and beloved.

Squaring his shoulders, he opens the door and heads back down to the trauma bay.

*~*~*

{Simon's memory: [Quiet Moments] by Indig0}

#rk900 #hank anderson #connor rk800 #simon pl600 #detroit: become human #simon900 #whumptober #annie writes: dbh

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,567

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432

Chapter 32: Waste It On Me

“And I know there’s no making this right, And I know there’s no changing your mind...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

The bigger you are, the harder you fall.

Jimin was aware of this saying and held it close to his heart more often than most. It was his way of maintaining a sense of humility. He tried to impart humble actions to others, remaining as sincere as he could and as it was allowed. Praying and fighting. Fighting and praying. It was a daily routine for him for the last ten years.

But now it was over and while he wasn’t suffering from a lack of purpose, there were other things that troubled his mind. Seemingly insignificant to some and very important to others. Jimin worried below the surface, attempting to hold onto a sense of calm despite the chaos that always seemed to erupt around them. Rain or shine, snow or a hurricane; none of it mattered. Because they’d overcome worse in their lives and this new path they walked would be no different.

Seeing Eden in the hospital – hearing that the Jade Fangs were the ones responsible – ignited something new inside of Jimin. A feeling he wasn’t aware that he could feel. One that he never knew simmered deep within the dark recesses of his own heart.

It was anger.

The feeling shocked him at first; the realization even more. Jimin couldn’t think of a time outside of his elementary years where he got angry. Annoyed? Of course. Irritated? Absolutely. But never anger.

Not until he’d seen Eden’s arm in a sling.

His eyes narrowed as he paid the cab driver. The bigger you are, the harder you fall…

Stepping out of the cab, he closed the door behind him and approached the Cha Gangnam Medical Center. The sliding glass doors automatically pushed open, granting him entrance to the main lobby. He looked around, smiling politely to the receptionist as she waved at him. Brushing his bangs off his forehead, he looked around to see if Raelyn was around. Not long after he shuffled in, she came around a corridor and stopped short upon seeing him.

For a moment, neither of them could say anything. Jimin watched her press her clipboard to her chest, the two of them sighing in tandem with each other. Raelyn did her best to put on a smile that he probably assumed she thought was believable.

It wasn’t.

“Jimin-ah,” she called softly, her voice almost lost in the noise of the lobby, “what are you doing here?”

She crossed over to him and he smiled at her. “I was just coming by to check on you.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “Are you about to go on break?”

Raelyn looked at her watch, then nodded. “Sure, I can go on break now. Follow me.”

The two of them walked side by side as they made their way down the hall. Several orderlies and nurses greeted Raelyn, as well as a few doctors who were wrapping up their shifts. They rounded two corners and she paused in front of a room, pushing the door open and peering inside. Her shoulders seemed to visibly relax before turning to look at him while fully pressing the door wide.

“It’s just us. Come in.” Jimin followed her and Raelyn stood in front of one of the vending machines. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

Pressing the button for two hot canned coffees, the machine dispensed the items and Jimin thanked her for the drink. They took their seats at a small round table near the back of the break room where they could talk. However, instead of talking, they opened the coffees and said nothing. Jimin wasn’t sure what was weighing so heavily on Raelyn’s mind, but he had a pretty good idea. The difficult part was broaching the subject in a way that wouldn’t set her off or, worse, cause her to build a wall even higher around her feelings.

“Noona?” She lifted her face to look at him and he could see her eyes shaking, as if Raelyn already knew why he was there. “Can I ask you something?”

Raelyn tried to put on a brave face, her fingers wrapping around the can of coffee. “Sure, Jimin-ah. What is it?”

He took a breath, pressed his lips together in a thin line, before releasing a puff of air from his mouth. “…is your freedom still important to you?”

There was a slight tink of sound as her nails scraped along the aluminum.

She scoffed, trying to brush off his question. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Because your reason for ending things with Hoseok Hyung stemmed from the world we lived in; the cloak of shadows that we wore.” Jimin laced his fingers together as he rested his hands on the table. Raelyn’s façade faltered. “We’re not in the shadows anymore, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who will do whatever it takes to drag us back. We are working to continue our path of success and to do it the legal way.” His eyes narrowed slowly. “And you’ve been actively seeing Taehyung-ah, knowing that people are still trying to grab at our ankles.”

Raelyn frowned this time. “What are you getting at, Jimin-ah?”

“It’s only going to get worse before it gets better.”

His tone was flat and his expression matched. Raelyn’s eyes widened, her brows raising simultaneously. Her hands slid from the can to the table and Jimin lifted his coffee to his lips. He knew how intelligent Raelyn was and so it wouldn’t take her long to figure out where he was headed with this conversation.

“Do you remember what those days were like back then, Noona?” He didn’t tear his gaze from hers. “I know you do.”

“Park Jimin, you—”

“I hope you’re prepared, because now that we’re walking the legal path, there’s no stopping what the others are planning to do. You’ve already seen for yourself what they’re capable of. What lines they’re willing to cross. We can’t just beat them back with chains, whips and knives. Not like before. Not anymore.”

This was the path they were striving to walk on. It was the way they wanted to continue living their lives from now on. Jimin didn’t have to ask his older brothers what was making them feel so uneasy. The bridge they were crossing was rickety. There was no guarantee they’d be able to make it to the other side before burning it behind them – preventing anyone else from breathing down their necks. Ten years of hard work could potentially incinerate in the palm of their hands. Determined to walk the righteous path, to bathe in the sunlight, meant giving up the tools they used when shrouded in darkness.

Money could only do so much. But what it could not do was buy loyalty.

It finally seemed to click for Raelyn, the realization of what Jimin was attempting to get through to her apparent now on her face. But he also knew that if she valued her freedom as much as she claimed, then now was the time for her to make a choice. There would not be another opportunity for her to backtrack. This was the only way out that he could present to her.

“Noona,” he called, his voice gentle and a touch warmer than it had been earlier. She sensed it immediately. “If you’re serious about Taehyung, about any of us, then I won’t interfere, and I will respect your wishes. We prepared for a lot of things, but we didn’t prepare for anyone to try and stop us from leaving.” He sighed, turning his head slightly to avert his gaze. “What they did to Eden Noona? I’m sure it’s just the beginning. They’re trying to make a point.”

“W-What point?” Raelyn’s voice shook only slightly, but he could hear the hint of anger tacked on at the end. “What do they think they’re gonna accomplish by fucking around with our lives?”

Jimin had a few ideas, but he wasn’t willing to voice them. Not out loud. Not yet.

“They’re trying to tell us we can’t keep anything we care about safe.” He craned his neck to look back at her. “Not anymore.”

He watched Raelyn sink back into her chair, as if someone had taken all the wind out of her sails and left her stranded out at sea.

Jimin rose from his chair, taking the can of coffee with him. He slid one hand into his pocket, pivoting on his heel as he turned toward the door. He paused, casting a sidelong glance over his shoulder to look back at her. Raelyn was still staring at the table blankly, trying to process what he’d just said.

“If your freedom is still important to you, then you need to push us away. All of us. For your sake more than ours.”

She blinked rapidly, turning to look at him as though she was seeing him for the first time all day. No, for the first time since she’d known him. Jimin offered her a soft smile instead. One she would recognize and hopefully take comfort in.

“Take care, Raelyn Noona.”

He bowed his head toward her and turned to head out the door. He didn’t look back as he was worried about what his warning meant to her. Would she take it to heart, or would she remain steadfast at their sides?

Will she make the same choice that Eden Noona has?

Seoul – Hannam; Yongsan District South Korea

The drive back to the house was quiet. The taxi driver must have sensed that Jimin had a lot on his mind and left him to his thoughts in the backseat. As traffic melded on the streets, many lights blossomed and painted the windows and streets of Seoul bright colors. Jimin heard pedestrians milling around, some holding conversations that were loud enough for him to hear through the window. He tuned most of it out, however, his own concerns going off like air horns in his brain.

Soon, everything passed by in a blur of colorful lines.

When Jimin walked through the main entryway of the home he shared with his brothers, he felt more exhausted than normal. Like he’d been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He announced himself, kicking off his dress shoes and loosening his tie before sliding into his house slippers.

A set of feet shuffled in and he turned to see it was Yoongi, a glass of scotch in his hand. “Just you?” He took a moment to peer over Jimin’s shoulder, as if someone had followed him. “The others?”

Jimin pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw texts from both Jungkook and Taehyung; one saying they’d be home late and the other saying they’d be home tomorrow. “Seokjin Hyung is still at the office with Anastasia Noona. He sent me home early. Namjoon Hyung and Hoseok Hyung are at a business meeting at the hotel.” He peered at Yoongi curiously. “You’re home early.”

Yoongi hummed in response as he took a sip of scotch. “Investors from overseas flew in so I saw to their needs. The official business meeting will be tomorrow. Hoseok-ah wanted to give them a chance to rest before going over paperwork.” He turned to head into the kitchen and Jimin followed after him. “What about the other kids?”

Jimin sat at the kitchen island, watching as Yoongi began pouring him a drink. He waited until the glass was set on a coaster in front of him before speaking. “Taehyung-ah is going to be late.” Reaching for the glass, he ignored the tinkling sound it made when his rings knocked against it.

Yoongi sidled up next to him, raising his glass so they could tap them together in a silent ‘cheers’ fashion. “Jungkook?”

The glass hovered near Jimin’s lips, not sure if he wanted to give him the answer. But he also knew he had no real reason not to. “He said he’s coming back in the morning.”

He saw Yoongi’s expression darken and Jimin sighed, not wanting to get into this conversation at all. But when he remembered what Eden said to him that day at church, as well as Jungkook’s own concerns, he knew he couldn’t avoid it. Jimin was also curious about something and the only way he would get the answers was by asking the person who’d hurt Eden the most.

“Yoongi Hyung?”

Yoongi shook his head, setting the glass down on the coaster and he tried to throw a casual smirk to Jimin. He wasn’t fooling anyone. Him least of all.

“Hm, what is it, Jimin-ah?”

“I know why you did that to Eden Noona.” Jimin stared into his glass, refusing to meet Yoongi’s gaze. “I get it more than you probably think I do.” A sad smirk passed over his features. “You were trying to keep her safe in your own way. I’m sure she’ll understand that someday, if she doesn’t already.”

Yoongi laughed but the tone was off; bitter and cold. “It doesn’t matter. She has Jungkook looking after her now.”

“Noona can take care of herself, you should know that.” Jimin continued staring into the glass, the pads of his fingers pressing into its cold surface. “You regret it, don’t you Hyung?” He turned his head to see Yoongi glaring down at the marble counter top. “You regret not trusting her.”

Yoongi blinked, his head moving slowly to look back at Jimin with confusion in his eyes. “What?”

“You didn’t let her into our world because you were afraid she’d get fed up with it. Not hurt by it.” Jimin paused, watching Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Eden Noona is strong, you’ve seen that for yourself, Hyung. Her environmental safety wasn’t what you were worried about.”

“Ya, Park Jimin,” said Yoongi quietly, the warning clear.

Jimin had no plans to heed it.

“What you were actually scared of was Noona seeing the real you, weren’t you?” Jimin frowned. “You couldn’t trust her to stay with you when she found out. But now you see that isn’t the case, because she’s with our younger brother now, in spite of everything.”

Yoongi’s fist slammed into the marble, causing their glasses to rattle. The sudden action didn’t even make Jimin flinch. Instead, he placed a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. The two of them said nothing and it wasn’t until Jimin gave it a reassuring squeeze did he let out a sigh.

“You’re scared she’s going to get hurt for real this time. And it won’t be by any of us.”

He watched Yoongi drain his glass and set it back on the table. “This is just the beginning. Those bastards have barely started scratching the surface.” Yoongi placed a hand on his forehead, turning to look at Jimin and his eyes looked more tired than they had just a few minutes ago. “…but you’re right, Jimin-ah. I’m scared. I’m scared of what they’re planning to do next.”

Jimin nodded, his hand sliding off Yoongi’s shoulder to return to the counter top. The two of them held their glasses; one empty and the other untouched.

“Me too, Hyung.” There was a heaviness in Jimin’s voice that he hadn’t meant to let slip. But it was too late to take it back and there wasn’t really a point to it. “…I’m scared too.”

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

Text

I Need a Hero!

Following on from Ooh! Barracuda!

Despite what Darcy had promised, their third date had ended with them still fully clothed, kissing goodbye on the street outside the restaurant they were supposed to be dining at, all because some asshat let mutated wannabe velociraptors escape from a lab in Nova Scotia.

And though they both claimed to want a do-over, culminating in the stereotypical post-third date activities, that first interrupted date was the start of a holding pattern.

They made reservations at another nice restaurant and Bucky walked Darcy to her room at the tower. They made out against the door – the inside of the door, as the hallway had hears, and high resolution cameras – but then Bucky cut it short claiming he had an early training session at the upstate facility in the morning.

Okay, thought Darcy. Except she learnt later on that he had volunteered for it the morning of their date.

The following weekend JARVIS found them an old school dance hall and the pair got dressed up in their 1940’s finest and went out dancing. Bucky walked her to her door again, and again cut their goodbye kiss short claiming tiredness because of the training upstate, and the travel, and the dancing.

Fine. Except Steve had mentioned two days later that Bucky had been putting extra sessions in at the tower gym – including the night of their dance hall date.

Darcy invited him around for a home cooked meal and suggested they watch something from Bucky’s “must see movies of the last 100 years” list. She instigated a little Netflix and Chill action, only for Bucky to put the brakes on claiming he wanted to see how the movie ended.

Really? It’s not like they couldn’t have paused the damn thing, Darcy would grumble to Jane later.

For their next date she pulled out the big guns: a slinky, sleeveless, little black dress that showed even more skin than the blue-grey number that had prompted Bucky to ask her out. When she opened the door Bucky’s knees almost buckled at the sight of her (or the girls) and Darcy thought she was on to a winner. She was flirty and affectionate on the way down to the lobby, and Bucky seemed to be reciprocating, but of course, their luck being what it was, the second he opened the car door for her his phone rang with an emergency Assemble.

Fair enough. He couldn’t fake an Assemble, but he didn’t have to look so damn relieved about it.

The mission took three days and when Bucky returned Darcy was caught in the middle of Jane’s latest breakthrough, so it ended up being a full week after their last failed date before they could reschedule. This also gave Darcy plenty of time to plan a course of action to address the elephant in the room, which basically boiled down to “talk about it like mature adults in an adult relationship”.

“This suuuucks,” Darcy groaned to her empty apartment as she waited for Bucky to knock on her door. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait too long; a minute later and she would have chickened out.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you like crazy this week.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy week,” she joked lamely, as Bucky made himself comfortable on her couch.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind tonight? I was thinking we could try that Caribbean ramen place Tony was going on about and maybe start one of those Star Wars trilogies everyone seems to love. Sam wants to watch them at the next team movie night, but you know he and Clint will just talk over them and it’ll just ruin my first viewing.”

“Speaking of firsts,” Darcy interjected, grasping at any excuse to get the crappy portion of their evening over with. “Do you not want to have sex with me?” Bucky balked and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. Darcy cursed herself for having the subtlety of Thor’s hammer, but sat as close to him as she dared and powered on. “Considering how you were looking at me the day you asked me out, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you find me attractive, but you keep pulling away from me when things get hot and heavy, and I know you’ve been making up excuses so you can cut out early. So… what is it? Why are you embarrassed to tell me no? Is it a religious thing – do you not want to have sex before marriage? A medical thing? Do you not want to have sex at all, or just not right now? Whatever it is, I just need you talk to me about it and tell me where you’re head’s at so I can adjust my expectations accordingly, okay? Because right now I feel like an asshole for trying to move us in a direction that you’re clearly not comfortable with.”

It took Bucky a minute to reply, his mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to find the right words, but eventually he turned those beautiful stormy eyes of his in her direction and took one of her hands in his.

“First off, of course I find you attractive. When it comes to brains and beauty I think you leave Hedy Lamarr in the dust,” he assured her with a smirk. “And don’t go twistin’ yourself up thinkin’ I only want you when you’re wearing one of those maneater ensembles of yours. Done up and dressed down, soft and sexy; I like the whole package, sweetheart.” Darcy couldn’t help but blush. “And I do want to have sex with you…”

“But…”

Bucky sighed and squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter. “But… Nobody but doctors have seen me without my shirt on since I came back to myself, and I can’t stop worrying about what you’ll think.”

“About?”

“All this,” he replied with vague gesture.

“Your arm?”

“You gotta remember that I got the knock off version of the serum; I ain’t like Steve,” he added, anxiously rubbing his shoulder. “I might heal fast but my scars don’t fade like his do. At least, the ones Hydra gave me didn’t. It’s not pretty, and I just don’t want to see you pretending like they don’t upset you.”

“Of course they upset me, Bucky. But only because I wanna tase every Hydra goon in the balls for what they did to you. Seeing your scars isn’t going to make me want you less. Solid muscle and solid metal, cocky and self-conscious; I like the whole package, Sergeant Barnes,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ugh, dude. Don’t make me fall on my sword.”

“Huh?”

“JARVIS, can you play my favourite fanvid?” she asked the ceiling with a sigh.

“Of course, Miss Lewis.”

“What are we watching?”

“Just… watch,” Darcy cringed as she shushed him. “And try not to hate me or, like, run screaming from the room in search of a restraining order.”

🎶 Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods 🎶

Bucky knew this song. He heard it every now and then when he was passing by Jane’s lab on the way to or from Tony’s, but it would always cut out when he got close. He’d asked Darcy about it once and she claimed it was her ringtone. Now that he thought back on it she had definitely been lying but he’d been too distracted by her bashful smile to notice it. He turned his attention to the television fixed to Darcy’s living room wall and as the song continued dozens of hastily edited together video clips were thrown up on the screen. Video clips of him. There were paparazzo footage of him and some of the team leaving a bar in DC after they’d gone out for drinks on Sam’s birthday, some video of him lifting weights in the gym for that Avengers Tower behind-the-scenes thing that Pepper had organized, though it was slightly pixelated as the editor tried to zoom in on his arms. There was even news footage from his missions with the Avengers, and a few of his missions against them.

“Is that… is that the Winter Soldier in Germany?”

“Um… yes?” Darcy winced.

“People like that – you like that?” he asked incredulously.

“I know it’s awful of me, and you have every right to hate me for making light of something that is obviously so awful, but seriously dude, you were built like a friggin tank! I don’t know what you were eating when you were hiding out in Romania, but damn!”

After a few more minutes of crippling awkwardness Darcy finally asked JARVIS to cut the feed.

“So…

“So… I hear this song playing in your lab all the time. Just how often have you watched this thing?”

“I plead the fifth,” Darcy blushed.

“JARVIS, how many times has Darcy watched this video?”

“Don’t answer that!”

“This is Miss Lewis’s 57th viewing of this particular Youtube video.”

Bucky looked rather pleased with himself. “Fifty-seven…”

“Okay, listen, I may have left it playing on loop one afternoon while I cleaned my apartment. I have not sat here and watched it fifty-seven times.”

“I can remember at least four separate instances where I’ve walked past your lab and interrupted this song.”

“So? That’s just four times.”

“Miss Lewis also asks me to loop her into gym’s security footage whenever you and one of your teammates are sparring.”

“JARVIS? What the hell?” Darcy screeched as Bucky doubled over with laughter.

“I apologise, Miss Lewis. I just thought Sergeant Barnes would appreciate having all the evidence at his disposal.”

“Go away, JARVIS.” Darcy sighed and tried not to combust from blushing as Bucky chuckled at her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. As you can see from Exhibits A through to like friggin J: I find you stupidly attractive. So, you don’t have to worry about me being upset about your scars from an aesthetic point of view, because if it’s not painfully obviously, I want to see you naked. Real bad.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to blush. “Can I kiss you, doll?”

“Please,” she begged with relieved smile. “Anything to stop me from embarrassing myself further.”

They started tentatively at first, but soon things started moving in a horizontal direction, with hands toying at the hems of shirts and brushing over zippers, and Bucky pulled back. Darcy did her damndest not to let her disappointment show and waited patiently for Bucky to tell her how he was feeling.

“Do you think we could, uh, relocate?” he asked, surprising her as he tilted his head towards her bedroom door. “I don’t know if I’ll want to… I mean, we can try…” he stammered.

“Whatever you’re okay with. Whatever you want,” Darcy promised.

Bucky swooped in for another kiss before lifting Darcy up off the couch in one smooth movement, smiling like an idiot as she giggled in his arms.

“JARVIS, play us out.”

🎶 Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat / It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet / I need a hero! 🎶

#i need a hero #wintershock #mutual objectification #darcy lewis x bucky barnes #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #freudensteins-fics

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denyingmyselfalways · 4 years

Text

you can trick my mind but you can’t infect my soul

Set before Avengers Age of Ultron

Manhattan, New York. Present Day.

It was a typical Wednesday morning. Pepper made him get up at 7:04 to attend one of his drawling meetings, was forced to eat breakfast, and was restricted to two coffees. He was up and out of the meeting room as soon as it was over, making some snide remark in response to questioning. And then he was free. Free from responsibilities and anxieties for the day until three in the afternoon for another pointless meeting.

Tony scrubbed his face with one hand, the other sporting his second coffee. He needed to get out. Out of the stifling Tower with its facilitated air and important businessmen. As much as the Tower was a work of art, even Tony Stark needed a breath of fresh air every once in a while.

He wandered to the elevator and told FRIDAY to take him to the ground floor. The tiny vibrations beneath his feet kept him grounded, and he closed his eyes just for a moment to gather his thoughts and just breathe. It had been a while since he’d had enough time to do that.

The elevator doors opened, and Tony made his way to the exit, waving off any of his employees who questioned if he was supposed to be somewhere or if he would be safe.

He was Iron Man. He’d be fine.

Queens, New York. Ten Years Ago.

Peter’s brain couldn’t process what was going on. There was red in his vision, and people in black running around everywhere, and his father, his dead father laying on the ground in front of him. He felt as if he should be crying, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to tears. Instead, he just felt numb, as if the coldness of death had gripped him too.

Peter’s legs went out, his knees hit the ground, and his small, six-year-old hand reached out to grab his father’s. He was inches away from contact when a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

And then the world went black.

Present Day.

Something wasn’t right. Tony could taste it in the air. Perhaps years of being Iron Man had trained him to be more alert. Perhaps it was years of being under a target for his money and fame. Perhaps the two spies he was friends with had rubbed off on him. He didn’t know what it was that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but it made him uneasy.

Tony, waiting on a street corner for the crosswalk to turn, checked his watch, reaching his other hand up as if to adjust it. Instead, he tapped its surface and woke up FRIDAY. The lens of his glasses lit up with his interface, but he didn’t have the suit on him, only his glasses and a wristwatch.

He murmured for her to check his surroundings for any suspicious activity. With all the people around, she couldn’t pinpoint anything, but Tony was still uneasy. He felt like he was being watched. And not the awed kind of watched he’d gotten used to from being famous.

His jaw clenched as the light turned and the crosswalk opened. He walked swiftly across, made his way down a block, and ducked into a deserted alley. It smelled like used socks and sewage, but he didn’t acknowledge the environment as he double-tapped the watch and pulled the Iron Gauntlet over his hand.

The world seemed to still for a moment.

Tony’s gaze switched from one end of the alleyway to the other, his ears straining to hear footsteps amongst the madness of the city.

But no footsteps came.

Ten Years Ago.

The world focused a few particles at a time. Peter heard a groan and realized it had come from his mouth. He felt his eyes blink once, twice, three times, but his vision cleared no faster.

His head felt heavy.

He wanted to fall back asleep, but he forced himself to shake his head. He squeezed his eyes tight and popped them open and finally he could make out his surroundings. He was laying in a single bed in a small, windowless room.

He was alone.

Peter sat, up, rubbing his face with his hands and trying to remember.

There had been people, loud bangs, and then his parents…

The tears that had not come before, sprang into his eyes.

His parents, Mary and Richard Parker were dead. They had just been out for ice cream. His parents had created something big, something they’d told Peter he wouldn’t understand. He didn’t really care, he just wanted ice cream.

They were leaving the parlor when the first bang went off. His mother dropped to the ground.

He heard his father screaming, but his mother, struggling to breathe had told them to run, to go.

So his father scooped him into his arms and had run.

The second bang went off and the world turned upside down as Richard fell and then… and then…

Peter was still trying to figure out that part.

The door creaked open.

Peter scrubbed his eyes, trying to hide the tears as a tall, elderly woman stepped into the room.

“Hello, Peter Parker.”

He managed a wobbly, “Hello.”

She smiled tightly, but the smile didn’t hold warmth. “We are great fans of your father’s work.”

Peter said nothing, too afraid and upset to respond.

The woman straightened. “I am very sorry about your parents.”

Peter curled into himself a little. “C-can I go home now?”

The woman’s tight, unwelcoming smile returned. “Oh, Peter. This is your new home.”

Peter’s eyes widened, his whole body tensing. “Where… where is here?”

“Well Mr. Parker, this is the Red Room.”

Present Day.

Still shaken from his earlier paranoia, Tony made his way back to the Tower as fast as he could. Earlier the fresh air had felt freeing, but now he just felt exposed. He wanted the safety of his suits and his tower and the presence of Pepper Potts.

He walked straight through the entrance of the Tower and took the elevator all the way to the penthouse before he allowed himself a breath of relief. He was safe. He was home.

However, the adrenaline slipping away also took his distraction, and the anxieties of his life returned.

He collapsed into his desk chair and put his head in his hands. Nightmares, Ultron, Pepper. All fresh wounds. The nightmares were returning, Ultron was his fault, and Pepper was leaving. Maybe. Probably.

He was alone, he was alone, he was alone.

The Avengers were no longer at the Tower, Rhodey was off being a Colonial, and Pepper. He shouldn’t cry because Stark men were made of iron and Stark men didn’t cry. Tony must not be made of iron.

He needed her. But he blew it.

His whole body trembled as he held in his tears. He’d hoped getting out today would help but all it did was distract him for a moment. In the end, it would always come back to Pepper.

Something shifted in the air.

Tony felt it again. The hair on the back of his neck rose, his shoulders tensed, his eyes began darting around the room. His ears had picked up on a shuffling. An almost-imperceptible shuffling in the vents.

“FRIDAY?” Tony chirped as if he hadn’t just been holding back tears, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Be a dear and make sure our ventilation system is clear. The air is feeling a bit stuffy.”

Before she could even respond, the vent in the ceiling burst open and a masked figure in an all-black bodysuit landed on all fours. Tony blinked, stumbling up out of his chair and calling out for FRIDAY to dispatch his suit, but the man in black ran to the window, barreled straight through, it and fell out of view. Tony sprinted towards the opening, looking down for a corpse landed on the pavement, but there was no body, living or dead.

Tony stumbled backward, scrubbing at his eyes. “FRIDAY, am I seeing things?”

“All visuals are down, boss.”

Tony frowned. “Excuse me?”

“My video feed has been completely disabled.”

“Why didn’t you alert me?”

“You told me not to.”

Tony’s frowned deepened, but when the reality of the situation hit him, he sighed and plunked down in his desk. “FRIDAY, get Pepper up here. Tell her we have a situation.”

“Yes, boss.”

A beat of silence.

“May I ask what kind of situation?”

Tony chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head as he picked up his phone to make some calls. “Well Fri, you’ve been hacked.”

Ten Years Ago.

Peter’s footsteps echoed in the dim hallway. The woman leading him hadn’t said a word since they’d left the room, and Peter was feeling more and more anxious. The longer they walked, the more Peter’s chest ached with a loss he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t know where he was going, or who was now taking care of him, or where his parents really were. He just wanted to go home.

The woman stopped abruptly next to a door and turned to unlock it. Peter shivered, terrified of what lay beyond.

The door opened seamlessly, and the woman looked at Peter expectantly.

“Well,” she said when he didn’t move. “Go on.”

Peter took a few tentative steps forward, before freezing in the door frame. It was a small room, with a single chair in the center and a man in the corner hunched over a table.

“Master Mikhailov, this is Peter Parker.”

The man turned around, and Peter tensed. But the man wasn’t hideous or creepy or anything that Peter had expected. He was just a normal-looking, middle-aged man.

The man smiled at Peter, but it felt as warm as the woman’s smile had. “Hello, Peter. I am Master Mikhailov.”

Peter said nothing, only blinked back in response.

The man’s gaze hardened, and he turned back to messing with the items on his table. “Come in,” he ordered, his voice had no give to it.

The woman turned on her heel and walked swiftly back down the hallway, leaving Peter with very little choice in the matter. He took a slow step inside, still unsure.

“Sit,” Master Mikhailov commanded, his back still facing Peter. Peter trudged to the chair and plunked down into it. “We’re just going to do a little medical procedure, make sure your body’s in prime physical condition.”

Peter tried to listen, he really did, but his memories kept pulling at his skull. His brain dragged him back to his parents and his city and his friends and his home and how this was not home. This was terrifying and nothing about this place felt right. His eyes began to water, and Peter sniffed, trying so hard to keep his composure. He didn’t want to cry in front of people that did not seem at all friendly, but his eyes refused to dry at the thought of living here, with these people that had no words of kindness or softness in their smiles.

The master came to stand in front of him and clicked his tongue. “Ah mister Peter we cannot have crying, now can we?”

Peter scrubbed his fists in his eyes, trying to hide his vulnerability. “I want my mom!”

“Your mother is gone, Peter.” The master said, no sympathy in his voice. “Hold out your wrist for me, please.”

Peter did, not looking up at the man. “I want to go home,” he murmured, his tears beginning to diminish before he really wanted them to. Now that he’d begun letting out his emotions, he didn’t want to stop. “I want my dad.”

Something soft brushed against his arm.

“Oh, Peter, didn’t Madame B tell you? This is your new home.”

A tickling sensation made Peter’s gaze snap up at his wrist a second before the spider sitting on it sunk its fangs into his skin.

Present Day.

The Wolf Spider hung upside down by a single thread, twisting through the air silently. His eyes were closed, his senses open to the bank and the people bustling beneath him. The businessmen and women were too preoccupied with their little nothings to glance upward and see his dark form. He listened beneath his mask without saying a word.

He shouldn’t have been caught. He should’ve been more careful. Stupid Tony Stark and his paranoia. If only he’d been better. If only he’d been quieter. There were a thousand if only’s but he couldn’t focus on the past now, he could only focus on this next mission and going back and fixing it. He couldn’t have another person hurt because he failed.

His eyes snapped open and his pupils dilated as the hair across his arms rippled. He could feel it. The presence of an insect buzzing its way towards his delicate web of death and carnation.

The insect in question was a balding man with the navy suit and the dark gray suitcase making his way towards the teller’s desk. The Wolf Spider, holding onto his thread with one hand, raised the other to his mouth and yanked the switch on his wristbands with his teeth. He raised his wrist to eye-level and aimed with his now activated kill switch. His hand began to tremble as the target and the weapon matched up.

He growled at himself and shook it out. He’d killed before. He could do it again.

But this man is innocent, a small voice in the back of his head whispered.

“So were my parents,” Peter murmured to himself, took aim again, and fired.

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oneshotstomyheart · 5 years

Text

Double the fight, double the anger - Part 1

Y/N feels betrayed by the two people she thought she could trust the most. Stucky x reader

Warning; angst, fighting, betrayal

The day started out normal, you woke up in between your two favorite soldiers, made some coffee & waffles, and then three of you snuggled up on the couch for some movies. Y/N didn’t think there was ever a time she felt so safe. Between being superheroes and going on missions for weeks or months at a time, having her boys here meant more to Y/N then she could ever say. Which is why they specifically designated lazy Sundays as an official part of their weekly calendar.

This particular Sunday went differently. While it started out great, it ended in broken hearts and tear-stained sweatshirts. Y/N knew her boys were protective, some would even say possessive, but those people didn’t see what went on behind closed doors. Bucky still fighting the nightmares, Steve handling the after-effects of beating Thanos, and Y/N trying to recover from her injuries after the war. It had terrified Steve and Bucky to their very core, one moment Y/N was on comms and the next was radio silence. It all happened so fast that the only thing Y/N can remember is waking up in the medical ward in Wakanda days after it ended.

Since that day she’d been on bed rest. Well, up until last week when she had been cleared for missions again. Y/N was relieved, while she loved quality time at home with her boys, she missed the outside world and it got lonely when they were away, leaving her with no one to talk to at the apartment.

Steve carried a bowl of popcorn into the living room, scooting next to Y/N and placing the bowl in her lap. “Here, sweetheart. Your turn to pick the movie today.” He smiled sweetly at her, while Bucky handed her the remote. Y/N barely got the chance to turn on the TV before their alarms went off, alerting them of a new immediate threat. Bucky picked up his device, reading out the words flashing in bold letters across the screen. “Mission Status; Active. Jet sent to your location. All active agents report to jet immediately. Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, Winter Soldier, Captain America, and Agent Y/L/N.” Bucky’s face went blank after reading the last name off, looking toward Y/N and frowning when she got up from the couch. Steve already running toward their room for their uniforms.

“This must be a mistake. Sit back down, I’ll let Agent Hill know that you aren’t ready yet.” Bucky laid his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, gently pushing her back down onto the couch. Steve walked back into the living room with his shield in one hand and his & Bucky’s suits in another. “Buck, hurry up we have to go.”

Y/N frowned deeply, stood up and pushed Bucky’s hand off her, while brushing past him saying, “I have to go suit up. I’ve been cleared baby, and I’m ready to get back into the field.” Steve dropped the shield and grabbed her arm before she could pass him, haltering her movements and jolting her in front of him. “Honey, you sit this one out.”

Y/N was baffled and honestly starting to get irritated at the fact that they didn’t have more faith in her. She ripped her arm away from Steve, “I’ve been given a mission. I’m going and you can’t stop me.” She replied, sending him a glare before marching to her closet.

“Steve, we can’t let her do this. She isn’t ready, and you know it.” Bucky whispered, coming up to stand next to Steve.

“Yeah I know, and I have a plan but it’s a bad one. She won’t like it, but she’ll be safe.”

“Count me in.” Bucky glanced over at their entrance to the room, watching Steve go close the bedroom door and order Friday to not let Y/N out under any circumstances until he or Bucky say otherwise.

“Yes, Captain. Although may I say, Miss Y/N will not be pleased.”

“I know, but she’ll forgive us later” Steve replied, sharing a heavy serious look with Bucky before they walked outside to the jet.

Meanwhile, Y/N had suited up and grabbed her weapons, before walking out of their closet to find she couldn’t open the bedroom door. Pulling and twisting, she tried to reign in any unknown strength she could have had, before giving up and banging on the door. “Hey, I think the door got jammed. Can one of you break it open for me?” She called out but got no response. “Hello?” She called out again, her eyes narrowing when the worst thought came to her. Did they leave her here? No. No way, they’ll notice when she doesn’t come out in a minute and come get her.

Then she remembered Friday, and the quickest option was to just ask her to tell them. “Hey Friday, can you let Steve or Bucky know that the door is stuck and I can’t get out?” She asked, raising her head to look at the ceiling. “I’m sorry Miss, I’m afraid the Captain and Mr. Barnes requested I keep the door shut until they say otherwise.”

Y/N froze, blood rushing to her face once she realized the situation. They locked her in? Y/N couldn’t tell you how long she stood there, the reality of the situation sinking into her bones, fueling her feelings of anger and betrayal. Y/N brought her hands up, watching how they shook with fury. Tears building up in her eyes, letting them run down her face as she stared at the door in exasperation.

Once everything sunk in, she became like a tornado. Throwing their stuff across the room, flipping the tv stand over, grabbing the lamp and using it to bang on the door. She knew it was useless, Stark specially designed these doors for them, the whole apartment really. Although designed to keep people out, she felt like it was only trapping her in.

Finally exhausted, she slumped against the wall opposite to the door, putting her head into her hands and sobbing. The whole time she has known Bucky and Steve, she has always been there for them. She was there through all the nightmares, through everything they went through when mending things with Stark, and not once had she ever felt like she had misplaced her trust. She felt safe with them, and she loved them with every ounce of her being. Yet right now, she felt nothing but resentment, anger, and sadness toward them.

It felt like hours later when she heard the nearby engines of a jet. Millions of thoughts were running through her head, but only one stuck out. And it made her decision on what to do perfectly clear.

Steve opened the door, letting Bucky walk in first. The mission had been simple, just saving hostages and beating up hydra thugs. However, the whole time they were gone, all they could think about was the overwhelming guilt they felt for leaving Y/N behind. They expected a mission far more dangerous than what they got, and for once, Steve was dreading what was behind their bedroom door.

“Friday, unlock our door please.” Bucky requested as he stood at their door, having missed his doll way too much. His guilt was gnawing at him, and he knew the only thing that could make him feel better was seeing Y/N safe, to reassure himself leaving her behind for the potential danger was worth it.

However, when the door unlocked and he walked in, he was surprised the see their room empty and completely trashed. He winced, knowing the mess was no doubt a result of her anger at them. Walking further in, he saw the bathroom light on with the door cracked. Walking up to it, he gently knocked on it, slowly pushing it further open. All he saw was a flash of Y/H/C hair whip past him, catching him off guard for a second as she swiftly walked back into their room. “Doll?” He softly spoke, reaching out to where she stood with her back to him in front of the closet. When she turned around, his heart dropped.

Y/N was standing with two duffel bags in her arms, wearing a sweatshirt that looked like it had been cried on for days, with her eyes being no different. Bloodshot and red, Bucky got a glimpse of glaring eyes before Y/N’s face was indifferent. She looked him up and down, almost as to reassure herself that he was okay, before turning and walking out of their room.

Almost crashing into Steve, Y/N stormed to the kitchen where they kept their medicine cabinet and started to put her prescriptions in her bag. Steve watched with wide eyes, stuttering out, “H-honey what a-are you doing? Where are you going?”. She turned, glancing at him long enough to check that he was fine, then marching towards their front door where Bucky stood prepared to stop her.

“I know you’re mad, WE know you’re mad, but just let us explain to you why we did it. Don’t leave, there is no need to leave.” Bucky exclaimed, practically begging by the end of his sentence. Y/N watched him with narrow eyes, feeling Steve walk up behind her and grab her hand. “Please, “ he whispered, tugging on her heartstrings when she saw his distraught face as she looked over her shoulder.

Throwing her bags down next to the door, Y/N walked over to the couch and plopped herself on it, looking expectantly at the two super soldiers. “Go on” she spoke with no emotion, clearly past the furious stage.

Steve looked at Bucky nervously, before approaching the couch to sit next to Y/N, only for her to stand up and stand facing out toward the big glass windows surrounding the room. “Listen,” Steve started, letting out a big sigh.

“No, you listen.” Y/N interrupted, turning quickly toward the two soldiers who looked as if they were about to be scolded by their mother. “I have had all day of being locked in a room, restrained from doing my job, to think about what I want to say to you two. And honestly? I have nothing. Just looking at each of you is making me sick. The two people I trusted most in the world, betrayed me.” Y/N spoke strongly, tears filling her eyes but face remaining a picture of fury. “Both of you conspired against me and kept me from doing something I love. Something I have been doing for far longer than the three of us have even been together. How do you expect me to react to that? How do you expect me to forgive that?” Y/N exclaimed, glaring back and forth from Steve to Bucky before she started walking toward the door.

“I’m leaving. I can’t do this.”

Bucky stepped in front of her, stopping her into her tracks. His eyes bore into hers, pleading.

“Baby, don’t. You know we just wanted you safe, we didn’t mean to upset you like this.” He explained, glancing at behind Y/N as Steve walked up behind her. Effectively trapping her between the two of them.

“Y/N we love you more than anything in the world, and we should have discussed it with you beforehand. It just all happened so fast, and we made a stupid mistake. But if you’re going to be mad, be mad at me. It was my idea, and I have never regretted anything more.” Steve said, lightly laying his hands on her shoulders, kissing the back of her head softly.

Y/N stared straight ahead, her heart and mind in battle. She knew they meant well, and she knew she might have done the same if the roles were reversed. But she had far more confidence in them than they obviously had in her. With that in mind and her heart in the losing race, she lightly pushed past Bucky.

Bucky went willingly to the side, reaching to grab her hand as she went by yet failing when she snatched it to her chest.

Walking to the door, Y/N picked up her bags and turned back to look at her boys. Tears falling down her face, Y/N whispered, “I just need some time.” Pulling the door open, she walked out of their apartment, her last words echoing in Steve and Buckys ears.

Bucky turned toward Steve, disbelief mixed with shock on his face. “She didn’t forgive us. You said she would forgive us, Steve.” He whispered, beginning to fall to his knees. “We were supposed to let her yell at us, and then make her laugh. And then watch movies all night while we rubbed her feet. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this Steve!” Bucky broke, face falling into his hands.

Meanwhile, Steve was unable to tear his eyes away from the door. One of the most important people in his life just walked out, because of him. He broke her trust and in return, their relationship suffered. All he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears, eyes starting to unfocus as the reality of the situation hit him. Breaking into a sprint, Steve ran to the door swinging it open and heading toward the staircase.

Rushing to the lobby, Steve looked around rapidly for Y/N. Getting a glimpse of Y/H/C outside, Steve pushed his way through the crowds, “Y/N!” he yelled as he pushed through the lobby doors.

Hearing her name, Y/N paused before getting into the taxi. Meeting Steve’s eyes, Y/N shook her head no before climbing into the cab and demanding the driver to the closest airport. Steve watched in horror as his girl, the holder of half of his heart, left him. Feeling a hand of his shoulder, he glanced over to see Bucky teary-eyed and staring in the direction of the cab.

She was gone.

+++++++++++

I have been working on this one for a while, like before endgame was released hence the tony reference. Please let me know if you like it, I plan to make it a three-part series. Follow for more! (:

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