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fleetwoodmoth · 7 years

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Run Rabbit Run

Katja has struggled finding comfort after escaping Talon. With Overwatch and Blackwatch, her home and family, gone she now lives with her girlfriend trying to restore normalcy. If only her past would leave her alone.

“What do you want for dinner zaika moya?” Zarya asked, Katja chewing her lip as she perused the fridge, her cellphone between her shoulder and ear.

“We’re out of most things,” she sighed.

“Stan will be there today with a delivery, we have fish coming, would you like me to cook the potatoes like I always do?” Zarya asked, Katja smiling to herself at the offer.

“Yes, please.”

“Of course, and I’ll pick up some of that good wine you like on the way home, yeah?”

Katja smiled wider, closing the fridge door as she straightened.

“That would be wonderful, remember to get the Chardonnay, it goes better with the fish.”

“I will make sure of it.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you soon then?”

“I’ll be home in a little more than an hour. I love you,” Zarya’s voice went soft, quieter than her usual speaking volume.

“I love you too, be safe.”

Katja lazily made her way back to the bedroom, finding something other than one of Zarya’s t-shirts to wear for when the groceries were delivered. She was grateful that Zarya understood her anxiety of going out alone, having fallen into a comfortable rhythm at the apartment. On Mondays they would get grocery deliveries, on Wednesday household items, and any other day Katja would accompany Zarya out to get whatever else they needed. It had taken Katja a long time to be okay with the arrangement, two different sides of her brain pulling her in two different directions, one towards being independent and the other towards paranoid anxiety. But Zarya was nothing if not understanding and encouraging, wanting to make her as comfortable as possible.

Zarya had once lived in a modest apartment, nothing too big but it was comfortable, only after Katja came along did she suggest moving somewhere more secure. Katja did all she could to repay her for leaving her old apartment, for putting up with her constant need for security. She kept their home clean, she ran little errands when she could, she did over the phone IT to help pay rent. Most of all she was there for Zarya when she needed her, strongest woman in the world was still human after all.

Katja spent her time getting dressed, although that probably wasn’t the right word for what she was wearing. Outside the large floor to ceiling windows rain poured down over the city, Katja finding herself in a pair of exercise shorts and a large pullover sweatshirt. She put the kettle on the stove, glancing at the clock, a ritual she developed whenever Zarya would give her an estimate on her arrival. It wasn’t long before the doorbell drew her from the kitchen and to the front door, Stan holding two armfuls of groceries on the other side.

Katja deactivated the security system, opening the door with a smile.

“Good afternoon Anya,” he greeted her.

Katja was used to the name, an alias she had crafted with the help of Zarya. Anya Zaryanova. Zarya’s doting yet private wife that almost no one knew about. Wife. The word always made butterflies flutter in her gut when she thought about it.

“You can set them on the counter, I’ll get your tip.”

Stan had been delivering their groceries for more than two months, always quick and never making awkward conversation.

“How is your day today Mrs. Zaryanova?” He asked as she dug through her purse she had left by the bedside.

“Good! Although a bit nasty out there today, the rain giving you any trouble?” Katja asked.

“No, no trouble at all.”

Katja finally found her wallet, straightening and sifting through it to find the bills she was looking for. There was an eerie silence. She couldn’t hear Stan’s footsteps in the kitchen, usually he would make his way to the door and wait for her to return. But now it was just silence. The hairs on Katja’s neck stood up, something wasn’t right, she could feel her eyes shift, going from their human state to that of a snakes, an “augmentation” made by Talon.

“Is this your last stop?” She called, pretending to look for the right amount in her wallet.

Silence. Mattress, side table, vase on the dresser. Katja inventoried the knives in the room, she feared making any sudden movement or even turning around. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, this was the moment she had been dreading. She had turned off the security system, she had let Stan in, she hadn’t turned it back on. Stupid girl. The sound of the floorboards creaking snapped her out of her own head. Katja spun only to have someone’s arms wrap around her. She caught something with her hand as she tried to strike them, rope, thin and strong. It was pulled up around her throat, her fingers still tangled in it as they tried to yank her backwards. She tried to seize it while she thrust her free arm backwards, trying to make contact with them. She felt ribs against her elbow, the sound of air leaving someone harshly as she used her momentum to throw them over her shoulder.

She froze as the body sprawled out in front of her, had she really been this stupid? To let someone infiltrate them like this? Stan pulled himself up, the cord still in his hands which were now gloved.

“You thought Talon forgot about you Anya?” He spat out the alias like it was nothing, like all the preparation and trail covering and hiding was for nothing. Like this whole time she had been building her own demise.

“You thought we would just let you leave?”

Katja took a step backwards, she wanted to retort, wanted to fight, but she was terrified. Flashes of images from the night she was taken from her home, of the night she left the window open to let in the cool night air only for Talon agents to seize her from her from her bed. Her heart was beating in her ears and she felt like her chest was collapsing in on itself. All the training, Blackwatch, Talon, everything was out the window as Stan who was nearly two feet taller than her lumbered towards her. She wanted to run.

Katja nearly tripped over her own feet, launching herself headlong into the living room, tears blinding her, making it hard to focus despite her ocular implants. Stan was on her quicker with his longer legs, Katja nearly reaching her cellphone, her fingers dragging it off of the counter before the cord was wrapped around her throat. She gagged on a cry for help, feet flying out from under her as he wrestled her back. She clawed at him, raking her nails down his face, he yelped in pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to deliver an elbow to his stomach and a head butt to his face. She heard the sickening crunch of his nose as he let go of her. Katja fell to her hands and knee, still struggling to breathe, working her fingers between her skin and the cord.

“You know--” Katja’s vision was blurring, her head beginning to pound as she gasped for air.

“I was supposed to make this look like a suicide. But now I’m pissed.”

He leap on her, shoving her face into the carpet, the rug burning her cheek as he kneeled into her back. He wrestled her arms backwards, a nauseating snap twisting her gut, knowing he had broken or dislocated something. Adrenaline pumped through her, panic rising even further as she tried to fight back in her position. The pressure had left her back, a numb throbbing in her left arm telling her where he had injured her but the tight bite of binds on her wrists immobilizing her. He wrestled her flailing feet next, dragging her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

“Couldn’t have just stayed dead,” he said.

The cord around her neck was tightened again, so much so it stung her throat and her eyes burnt with tears as he hauled her up by it like she was a dog in a collar. Katja’s head was pounding, her ears ringing, or maybe that was the kettle on the stove. Whatever it was it amplified the splitting pain in her head. Everything began to blur together, she wasn’t sure if the gagging noises were leaving her mouth or if they were trapped inside of her throat, only audible to herself. She was still again, he had hung the end of the cord on something behind her, something on the bed she couldn’t see. He squatted in front of her, smiling at her and saying something. Katja struggled to lift herself, to ease the pressure on her throat, as she did his voice became a little clearer, the sound of the kettle whining loudly in the kitchen behind him.

“The longer you struggle the more drawn out this is going to be. Just let go.”

Katja mustered all the strength she had, her body aching at the strange angle she had to sit in to keep herself from being strangled, her hands fumbling behind her, trying to get free from the bindings. Her muscles screamed and finally gave out, the air leaving her lungs again as she flailed like a fish on a line. This time her vision went dark, her head swimming as she tried to gather her strength, but the lack of oxygen made it hard. She wasn’t sure how, but she had pulled herself up, or at least she thought she had. She heard a voice first, her vision still spotty and grey. It was partially in Russian, partially in English, most of it hard to decipher as oxygen flooded her brain.

“Katja please look at me. Open your eyes solnishko.”

There was a pounding behind Katja’s eyes as she tried to focus on anything, only realizing she was laying on her back when her vision finally cleared. She sputtered and choked, her throat burning harshly with every breath.

“Zaika moya,” Zarya breathed, pulling Katja against her.

She was bent over on the floor, the cord that had been around Katja’s neck out of sight, her binds cut. She must have blacked out, although she didn’t remember it. Tears stung her eyes and even with her tender throat a sob was ripped from it, then a scream and a wail. The terror hadn’t subsided, even as Zarya cooed at her and held her tightly all the pain in Katja’s body only spurred on her sobbing. Katja couldn’t see Zarya’s face but she felt the wetness of tears on her shoulder and heard the shaking in Zarya’s voice.

“I will keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes from now on you aren’t leaving my side. I will keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

#note: Zaika moya means my rabbit and solnishko means little sun or sunshine #hopefully lmao #I mean you can't trust the internet #my writing #Zarya #Katja DeVries #I should mention this is an Overwatch oc/Zarya fic

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