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elegantmadness · 1 year

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Damned (a Fallen Hero fic)

Fandom: Fallen Hero: Rebirth + Retribution (an IF on Hosted Games)

Summary: Heartbreak was never really gone, only hiding away deep in the bowels of Sidestep's mind. Until they're no longer hiding. In the aftermath of Heartbreak's second attack, Sidestep makes the decision to stop them once and for all. It's only too bad that doing so will kill Sidestep too. Ortega is none too pleased when Sidestep asks him to help kill them.

Characters: M!Ortega, Lady Argent, Herald, Steel, Gender Neutral!Sidestep, Heartbreak

Pairing(s): Ortega/Sidestep, Argent/Sidestep, Herald/Sidestep (poly basically)

Rating: M for heavy topics such as suicide and euthanasia. Lots of angst and tragedy. Sidestep death. No happy ending.

Word Count: 4k. Please also note the present tense and second person to keep in line with the immersive, IF feel.

AO3 Link

The first sign of life is the pressure: the build-up of static humming dangerously in the air.

…seeking an end

Or is it a beginning?

Maybe it doesn’t even matter anymore.

Your eyes flutter open, but instead of a blinding light, there is only a soft darkness: gentle enough to settle like a cloak shielding you from the elements.

The tension in the air builds again, mounting and growing into a crescendo that never quite explodes.

You can’t help the instinctive tense of your shoulders, but this place is wrong; there are no white lab coats, no beeping of machines or whirring of saws slicing through flesh, no stagnant air of misery that you’ve long since associated with the Farm.

Pain pounds behind your eyes, a familiar sensation heralding the beginning of a particularly excruciating migraine, but as your eyes begin to adjust to the lack of light, you notice the figures in the room.

The glint of Argent’s skin catches your eyes first, though her expression is as unreadable as Chen’s who stands with his arms crossed, his armor exchanged for civvies. The tension in both their forms is unmistakable, and they pointedly avoid your gaze when you let it linger on them a few seconds too long. Herald is actively watching you, his smile brittle at the corners and his eyes a little sunken; has he not been sleeping?

Ortega looks the worst of the bunch, in all honesty. His eyes are bloodshot, and though his hands are shaking, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s from something other than his epilepsy. It occurs to you slowly, though: that their thoughts are not readily accessible, and you can feel your eyes widen. Something has been attached to the middle of your forehead, and you have a feeling it’s connected to why your telepathy has abruptly been cut off.

It’s a strange feeling, really, different from the dampeners which feel akin to a blanket attempting to smother the embers of your ability before they can catch into flames. Everything is muted somehow, far away, even more so than usual; nothing feel’s especially real, save perhaps for the pounding still rocking through your temples. Is that the cause? It wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Where…?” Your voice breaks, hoarse and raw, broken, and something flickers in your line of vision that is decidedly not the room around you. Bodies, prone and broken and grotesque in their unnatural poses litter the path before you; the blood on your hands is still warm, slick, and it takes several moments to realize that the blood is not from your victims: it is from you. It drips from your nostrils and pools at either side of your lips, the metallic taste all too familiar from your hero days. Someone, or some thing, must have hurt you, though, because your palms are broken and bleeding too.

Defensive wounds?

“Don’t make me do this!” It’s Argent, seething and growling as she hovers defensively in front of an unconscious Charge and Herald. You can feel her colony of nanovores at the edge of your consciousness, so delightfully, wonderfully volatile, and your mouth shifts into a manic smile as you yank and tug until Argent cries out, her hands reaching for her head as she undoubtedly tries to regain control.

“This isn’t you! Take control!”

You had wondered where Steel had gotten to, though he freezes when you turn your gaze to him, his dampeners beginning to strain from the onslaught of your telepathy. It hadn’t helped him the first time; it certainly won’t help him now, especially not with his former savior unable to assist him.

“Isn’t me?” Your voice is a mockery of Sidestep, hauntingly familiar as it teases Chen. “You never knew me.” Chen’s lips quaver, your telepathic assault finally breaching his dampeners; he didn’t die last time, perhaps now it’s time to fix such an egregious mistake…

You never see the blow coming, but Argent practically howls as she connects, the nanovores seething with the need for something like revenge, though their so-called thoughts are too instinctive to employ the concept.

You gasp when you come back to yourself, and it’s no real surprise when Ortega all-but-runs to you, the terror and urgency in his gaze making you flinch. He winces to see it and stops before he makes contact, though he kneels down and lands a soft hand on your thigh, the electric current a familiar feeling as it crackles along your skin. No doubt it’s unintentional, but the touch makes you gasp despite yourself.

“You all right?” Ortega’s the one who finally dares to break the silence, and you fix him with an angry look, your eyes flashing and narrowing down at him. He doesn’t even flinch away from it; he’s far too used to it, the bastard.

“How could I possibly be ‘all right’?” Your words don’t carry nearly the amount of bite you want them to, your tone dragging into something far more resembling guilt as your shoulders quake and you force back a sob. “What happened?”

You can’t look at Ortega anymore, not when you need the bare facts of it all. He’s way too good at avoiding these types of direct questions, or of sugarcoating the circumstances where you’re involved.

Herald flinches at the question, and Chen exchanges a look with Argent before stepping closer while still giving you and Ortega a wide berth.

“Heartbreak.”

The single word is enough to instill within you an understanding, and you flinch as something loud echoes inside your mind: not words as such, but a chain being rattled. The jail bars of your mind and the dampener on your forehead being shaken angrily. They’re outraged at the gall of being caged again, and you wince as the pain becomes almost too much, your consciousness beginning to fade.

You don’t even remember when your hands reach for the sides of your head, but when the pain finally, blissfully begins to lessen, you notice how Ortega’s hands cover your own, his eyes glassy though he’s shed no tears. Yet.

You don’t even dare to parse the pleading look Ortega gives you, the affection and desperation that bleed into the terror of the situation. For once you’re glad your telepathy’s dampened, even if you never could read Ortega’s mind. “You sure you want me to let go?”

It’s a pitiful attempt at flirting, though you can’t quite hide the tired twitch of your mouth before you nod and his warm, static-y hands fall back to his sides.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Argent demands, crossing the room and glaring down at you, though it startles you a little to see more than simple anger in her expression. There’s concern there too.

“Hey, Angie! Come on. Let’s take it easy, all right? This is hard on all of us,” Ortega tries to hold her at bay, though it’s an interference she is not even slightly willing to entertain. Her nostrils flare, and she balls one of her hands into a fist as she tenses in preparation to move past him.

“I… didn’t know,” you admit, your hands sliding between your thighs as you lower your gaze. Some telepath, not even able to realize when you’re being controlled by another, even stronger telepath. Have they been inside your head ever since the original Heartbreak incident? Or did the Farm scoop them up too and somehow fuse the pair of you together the second time? You’re not sure which option is less appealing.

Argent, meanwhile, has fallen silent, and Ortega catches her gaze before he shakes his head and drops his hand from her wrist.

“It’s all right.” Herald’s optimism is normally contagious – why else would you have ever agreed to train him? – but even as he settles on the cot next to you and takes your hand, you know he’s wrong. Nothing about this situation, about you, is right, and you’re starting to believe it never will be again. Maybe it never was in the first place. You’ve been fighting and fighting for so long, and what has it gotten you? Pain. Misery. Isolation.

“We’ll think of something,” Herald continues as though his blind optimism is helpful or wanted, though you inhale sharply before retracting your hand. You can see Herald frown in your periphery, and under normal circumstances you’d apologize.

But not now.

“I think we all know that’s not true,” you tell him evenly, forcing yourself to your feet and regretting it instantly. The world begins to move and sway – is this another dream? – but before you can fall Ortega’s there, his warm arms wrapping around you. You don’t miss the way Herald has sprung to his feet, or how Argent tenses when she sees you’re about to fall; hell, even Chen starts and takes a step forward. How long have they cared? You can’t remember, but for once you welcome the warmth. It’s a far cry from ostracizing yourself in a base somewhere, but Ortega’s chest is solid, and he seems disinclined to let you go now that he’s finally, finally gotten you in his arms.

That’s probably why the realization hurts so much. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep hurting them, hurting yourself, and now… Heartbreak. For them to so expertly subvert you there can be only one explanation. They’ve woven themselves throughout your mind, sunk their barbed tendrils into every neural pathway and telepathic link until they are merely a shadow that is primed to take control whenever your own wavers, and eventually, whenever they desire.

Once more, you are merely a puppet. No autonomy. No humanity. Scarcely even a thing. Certainly not a person.

At the very least, though, you can make sure Heartbreak hurts no one else ever again.

“What are you saying?” It’s Chen who speaks this time, no-nonsense and matter of fact, but the lines of his face this time are not tense with frustration or even anger. There’s concern there, naked in the light of his eyes, but deep down, he knows what needs to be done. He doesn’t flinch away from his duty, however distasteful; you hated that about him before, but now… well, it makes things easier. Making it easy is all you really can do now.

“You know what I’m saying, Chen. Don’t be coy.”

He winces, actually winces and staggers back a step as though you’ve struck a blow, but the others are no better. Ortega’s hold on you tightens, though you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not now. Not yet.

“You can’t be serious! There has to be a way!” Herald’s optimism has morphed into sheer, unadulterated panic, his eyes wide and disbelieving even as you shake your head at him, your lips tugging into a watery smile.

“There’s not,” you tell him simply, and you can tell he has to stop himself from arguing about it further, his lips trembling as tears stream from his eyes. You were his hero, his enemy, his trainer, and now… now you’ll be his martyr.

Argent is deep in thought, her jaw tight before she fixes you with a look. “What about the nanovores? Or the regenerator? Aren’t there other telepaths we could consult?” Her words are clipped and emotionless, as though she’s forcibly keeping her own feelings at bay, and your heart twinges to see it. She’s so strong, but you’ve never seen her so vulnerable before. And it’s because of you.

“And how many people are you going to let die because I can’t keep in control?” you return sharply, hating how she flinches but knowing it’s necessary. Not all problems have solutions, and you aren’t willing to wait around for the Farm to pick up on you or Heartbreak, not again.

“You know as well as I do that you have trouble with the nanovores even on good days, and it’s not like it’s a physical wound. I don’t think this is something they could fix, same with the regenerator. As for other telepaths…” Your thoughts trail off. No other telepath is trustworthy, and there isn’t time to find one anyway. She knows it even if she doesn’t want to admit you’re right.

Argent eventually huffs angrily, her arms crossing over her chest as she turns away from you, though she doesn’t slip away. Does she feel bad for arguing with you so late in the game, on the eve of your demise? It’s almost enough to make you want to apologize.

Your hands slide to Ortega’s chest as you push off gently, but even with the minimal space now between you he refuses to let you leave his embrace entirely. His smile warms you in ways you never imagined, even if it’s taut at the corners and his eyes, like Herald’s, are brimming with tears.

“Don’t you remember?” he asks rhetorically, a strangled chuckle never fully making it off his tongue. “I said I’d always try to save you, even when you said I couldn’t.” The tremors in his hands are getting worse, and you can’t help lifting a hand to his jaw, pressure beginning to build behind your own eyes.

“You can’t save me,” you murmur softly, fingertips idly brushing the salt-and-pepper bangs that have fallen in front of his eyes. “You never could,” you add a moment later, shaking your head as tears begin to slide down your cheeks. “I was damned before I ever met you.” It’s getting harder to breathe, though you at least manage a smile at him, even when his own becomes engulfed by a tight frown as his eyes squeeze shut. There’s no hiding his tears now, and the oddest urge to apologize comes to you as he drags you closer.

“I can’t do it,” he admits brokenly, his teeth raking over his bottom lip as he looks you full in the face. “I can’t lose you again.” You don’t see the kiss coming at all, but it sears you, brands you, as though he hasn’t already gouged his name into your heart. As though you haven’t known already for years that Ricardo Ortega is the man you love, the man who has held your heart and soul in his hands with a gentleness you’ve never before known.

You’ll always be grateful for his unconditional acceptance.

All the emotions must rouse Heartbreak, because the moment the kiss comes to an end searing pain takes its place and you gasp for breath, the fire threatening to burn you from the inside out. Sparks erupt from Ortega’s fingertips as they press too-gently against your forehead and brush the device there, presumably pumping more power into the device still on your forehead, and for the moment, it makes the pain stop.

“We don’t have much time.” Chen frowns, and you nod breathlessly.

“Thank you, Chen. For everything. Take care of them for me, will you?” Your request catches him off guard – or perhaps it’s the act of thanking him – but either way he stares at you as though he’s never seen you before.

“I will,” he promises solemnly, taking a breath before glancing over at Ortega who seems to understand his tacit request. Ortega’s arms pull away before Chen’s take their place, the embrace unexpected even as you tentatively return it a moment later. You never expected to befriend him, but now you wish you’d done so sooner. “Apologize to Spoon for me, will you? I promised him a walk and some treats.”

He frowns as he releases you, his emotionless mask flickering at the mention of his greyhound, though you don’t wait for him to step back before sliding a fond kiss to the middle of his scarred brow. The affectionate gesture makes his jaw tremor, and his eyes blink far too quickly as he turns away. No doubt he wants to hide how deeply this is affecting him, though you never would’ve guessed losing you would have so profound an effect on him.

You turn away from Chen to give him the privacy he seems to require, your eyes landing on Herald whose tears have finally stopped. His face is red and blotchy – a far cry from the camera-ready hero smiling his sunny smile, and you grasp his hands with as soft a smile as you can muster. “You’re so strong, Danny. You really are. Keep up the training, all right? Keep practicing. You’ve already got the good person thing down.”

He chokes back a hiccup and tries to smile, and you fully expect the smothering hug when it comes. You hold him close, petting the soft strands of golden hair at the nape of his neck while whispering soothing sounds against his ear, but eventually, you pull back, his tear-filled eyes pinning you in place. He’s always found strength in you, in your relentless drive and desire to protect others even when you’d chosen a side opposite of his own, but now… now that strength is a weakness. You almost feel impelled to apologize to him for ripping it away, but before your mouth can even begin to form the words his eyes are lidded and his lips are soft and oh-so-delicate against your own.

The kiss is salty, heartbroken, and grows with increasing desperation as he struggles not to sob against your mouth. Your fingers reach out to graze over his temple, his golden hair brushing over your skin as he finally pulls back with a shaky swallow. His expression is a little stronger now, no doubt trying to be brave for you and the others, and you offer him as good a smile as you can muster before rounding on Argent, anger beginning to seep into the cracks of your despair.

“You find the bastards who did this, Xi. You track them down and slaughter them until there’s nothing left of the Farm.” Her expression is shocked when she turns to look at you, though it abruptly darkens before she nods decisively.

“You can count on that.” Her tone is vicious, but even then, there’s something breakable about it, as though dismantling the Farm without you is meaningless. Or, maybe, it’s the idea of robbing you of your just rewards for enduring all the bullshit that sets her off.

“For fuck’s sake! ” she finally snarls, grabbing you by the front of your shirt and dragging you close enough to kiss before smashing your lips together. It’s harsh and unyielding just like Argent herself, but there’s a depth of emotion there she can better convey than through words alone. It lingers warm and metallic against your mouth, more comforting than off-putting, and by the time she rears back she’s sucking in lungfuls of air through grit teeth, her eyes narrowing at you.

“You weren’t supposed to die. Not now, not like this,” she hisses as she retracts her hand. Chen levels a comforting hand on her shoulder a moment later, and you’re not sure whether that’s more of a surprise than the fact that Argent lets it stay there. There’s something decidedly defeated about her stance, in the slump of her shoulders and the ever-moving line of her mouth that doesn’t seem to know whether to snarl or cry or scream.

“Sorry it couldn’t be you,” you can’t keep the quip inside, and while it makes Argent’s lips twitch, she’s too upset to smile. You can’t help noticing one of her hands reaching out for Herald, though; the blond allows himself to be tugged closer until he’s buried his forehead in her silver collarbones, his strong arms wrapped around her slim waist. Is that a glint of silver at the back of Herald’s head? The sight makes you start to think that, at the very least, the team will survive without you so long as they have each other.

At least until you turn back to Ortega.

“Dios mío,” Ortega curses when your eyes return to him, his own red and his voice hoarse as he welcomes you back into his arms. You’ve never had a home or a family, not a real one, but Ortega has always been both. How can you possibly tell him how much he means to you? How hard this is? You don’t make this decision lightly.

“I want it to be you,” you tell him as flatly as you can, though judging from the narrowing of his eyes and the parting of his lips, he’s going to need a little more than that to understand.

Shit.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to get the words out. You swallow, steeling your nerves as best you can.

“I want you to kill me, Ortega.”

His eyes widen impossibly before they abruptly darken with anger, fury, outrage the likes of which you don’t think you’ve ever seen. And honestly, that’s something of an accomplishment. Your heart skips a beat despite yourself.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! ” You’ve heard him say it so many times in Spanish you don’t even need to try and translate it into English, though you can only watch as his hands grip your upper arms, the fury and pain digging jagged lines into his face.

“No? I thought we all realized that was the idea,” you answer glibly, though that was clearly the wrong thing to say. His eyes darken even further, the corners of his eyes wetting with tears again.

“This is your life we’re talking about!” he explodes at you, the pain in his words making you wince away as something twinges uncomfortably in your chest.

“I… I can’t do that!” he finally screeches, the tingling of his current against your skin a testament to his control, and how very easily you seem to undermine it.

“Ricardo. Please.” The use of his given name gets his attention, and he silently pleads with you to change your mind as you stare into his eyes. “It has to be you. I… I can’t do it myself.” Your words are so soft you wonder if he can even hear you. Maybe you could have long ago. Maybe it’s selfish to ask… No. There’s no maybe about it. It’s beyond selfish, but it’s entirely possible that if you try it alone, Heartbreak will thwart your attempts.

“You want me to kill the love of my life?” he asks, tortured and broken and no doubt wishing to god this were all a nightmare. “To watch you die again? To know I failed again?” His shaking has gotten progressively worse, and you flounder for words before someone finds them for you.

“You didn’t fail,” Chen tells him sternly, an arm rounding Ortega’s shoulder and holding tightly. One of Argent’s arms slides around your back in what you can only assume is some comforting gesture, and even Herald manages a half-smile at Ortega, though the expression is undeniably tinged with helplessness as his arms round Ortega’s waist and your own.

“We’ll be here, Ricardo. You won’t be alone,” Herald tries to offer comfort, though as Ortega’s forehead settles on yours, you know he’s far too gone to accept it.

“I love you, Ricardo. Always have. Always wi–” The word chokes from you mouth as Ortega tugs Herald away from you and gives Argent a warning look before lightning arcs through you: burning out the core of your hollow existence. Unfortunately for him, Heartbreak is not simply going to sit back and allow themself to be slain without a struggle.

“Mierda.”

Ortega’s voice hearkens your consciousness back to the fore, though the pain of having so much electricity coursing through you unnaturally has taken its toll. You can feel the burns, can feel the irregular pulsing of your heart and the uncomfortable way your lungs seem to spasm with each breath.

“Do it,” you rasp, reaching for his forearms and gripping them tightly.

“I love you,” he whispers, daring one, final look at you before the electricity crackles and singes down his arms and into your own. You can feel Heartbreak struggle, can feel the vehemence, but the pain of being electrocuted saps whatever strength you both possess readily. Your body drops a handful of heartbeats later, and Ortega drops with you, his torturous wails never ceasing as he gathers your limp body into his arms and the others gather around him, trying vainly to offer comfort just as readily as they try to take it from each other.

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