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sweetiepie08 · 3 years

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RebelZ (Chapter 9)

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

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“Care to tell us what the fuck that was?” the Dib shouted as they ran down the hall.

“A coup, obviously,” Zim shot back. “Just not one where you seize power at the end. So, half a coup.”

“So then who seizes power now?”

“The Tallest Red and Purple still have it,”

Dib nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. “You mean you didn’t kill them?”

“It’s nearly impossible to poison an Irken,” Tak explained. “The PAK filters out most toxins. You can incapacitate them, though, for a short period of time.”

“So you basically just quit your job in spectacular fashion,” Dib said indignantly.

Tak almost couldn’t believe it. Zim must be sincere in his betrayal. He poisoned the Tallest and declared to the entire upper crust of the Irken military that it was intentional. There was no coming back from that. Every other disaster he caused could reasonably be argued as a mistake. But there could be no doubt here. Zim truly had turned on the empire.

Yet, something still didn’t sit quite right with her. If he had gone rebel, if he had truly turned traitor, then his life clock would have gone off like hers did. One would reasonably assume the impotence for this betrayal was her discovery of the Control Brains parasite, but she was with him ever since she told him that news and she never saw his life clock go off. But that could only mean something else prompted him at an earlier date. So the question was, what made Zim finally snap?

They came to a split in the hallway. Tak started going right while Zim went left.

“Uh, the Voot is this way,” Tak called.

“I’m not going to the Voot,” Zim yelled back. “I’m going to the control room.”

Dib and Tak cast each other a glance, then followed him. They found him crouched behind a door at the end of the hall and joined him in his hiding spot. Dib took a peak inside. There, dozens of Irkens worked at their stations. They seemed unaware that, for now, their leaders were incapacitated.

Zim tapped his PAK and a metal ball flew into his hands. He pulled a pin, tossed it in, and smashed the control panel, shutting the door. They heard coughing from the other side and, after a few minutes, opened the door to find the Irkens unconscious on the floor.

“So, what are we doing in here again?” Dib asked, as they stepped into the room.

Zim grabbed one of the Irkens who still slouched in their chair and threw them to the floor. “Wiping Urth off the navigation map.” He sat down and the monitor and started messing with the buttons. “If I’m going to continue to use it as my home base, I can’t have them finding it.”

“Not so fast,” Tak slapped his fingers away from the buttons. “Before this goes any further, I need answers. If you’re truly on our side, there’s only one way your life clock didn’t go off.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“You had a rebellious thought!” Tak declared. “When?”

“Three Urth years ago.”

“Three years?” Dib shouted, stepping up to them. “But I’ve been watching you. Why were you still trying to conquer Earth if you kinda-quit three years ago?”

“I wasn’t.”

“But I saw you building machines!” Dib argued.

“They weren’t for me!” Zim shot back.

Tak began to ask “But how-” before Zim cut her off.

“Silence!” he shouted. “Silence your questions! I need to concentrate.”

Zim continued typing on the buttons until a picture of the Earth appeared on the screen. The stats were scarce, save for the coordinates and the note, ‘that place where Zim is.’ The little blue ball of dirt and water had gone unnoticed by the empire, noteworthy only as a banishment site. To them, it was merely a place to keep Zim contained, far away from anything important. But after the stunt they pulled today, it would be a target.

Another few clicks of a button and the Urth was gone, leaving only a blank file in its wake. All Irken military ships automatically synced with the Massive. If it was gone from this data base, it was essentially invisible to all Irkens. If they wanted to find Urth again, they’d have to scour the universe for it. But why stop at Urth?

“Let’s dump it all,” Tak said.

“What?”

“Erase the database,” she said. “It’ll be a crippling blow to the empire.”

“Do we really have time to erase everything?” Dib asked. The human made a good point.

“Jut the maps then,” she suggested. “They would have to rebuild their navigation systems from scratch and it would send the fleet into disarray.”

“Zim is no radical!” Zim snapped. “I’m only doing this to cover my own ass.”

“Not a raical?” Dib scoffed. “You just poisoned your own leaders.”

“That was personal,” Zim argued. “This is political.”

“And what about those weapons you’re building?!” Dib shot back. “If they’re not for Irk, then who are they for?”

“Zim’s business deals are none of your… um… business!”

“Shut up!” Tak commanded, taking a seat at another monitor. “We don’t have time for this! Let’s get these maps erased and get out of here.”

“If you even make it that far,” a chorus of voices answered.

Dib looked around. “Who said that?”

“We did, human.”

Every Irken in the room rose to their feet. Tak prepared herself for a fight. Her eyes darted as she watched them all, poised to deploy the weapons in her PAK. But none made a move to attack. They all stood there, stalk still, with a dead look in their eyes.

Dib gaped at the sight. “H-how are you…”

“Silence Urth Creature!” the possessed Irkens shouted in unison, turning their cold eyes toward Dib. “Do not interrupt us again!” Dib shut his mouth and the Irkens calmed. “Congratulations defectives” they said, now addressing Zim and Tak. “It’s been centuries since we had to resort to total override, but mark our words, you will pay for this waste of food.”

“What do you care for waste?” Tak spat back at them. “You throw Irken lives away every day in your conquest.”

“A calculated cost to bring me more to feed from in the long term,” the Irkens explained with their eerily monotone voices. “You should know about calculated risks. Don’t forget, we see everything you do.”

“When have I ever sacrificed good soldiers?”

Every possessed Irken in the room wore the same mocking smirk. “All through your training days. Don’t you remember? We saw everything you did, every little cheat to get ahead.”

The Irkens tapped buttons on their control boards and soon, every monitor showed various scenes from Tak’s training years. “Electrodes hidden in your boots to cripple race opponents. Stealing test answers and planting them in a rival’s locker after copying them for yourself. You got top scores on your exams and excelled at your drills, but is it really victory if you have to sabotage your competitions? Oh sure, you studied and trained, but it never felt like enough, did it? Never thought you could win a fair fight. Had to tear someone else down first. Maybe, if it weren’t for all your cheating, we’d have let you make up your Elite ranking test. After all, we allowed everyone else who was inconvenienced by the blackout to take it.” Their smirks grew as they twisted the knife further. “Just not you.”

Tak ground her teeth together as she watched the images play out on the screen. There was no denying them. The monitors played footage from her own memory bank. They showed her and everyone else who she really was. She work so hard. She clawed her way to the top and did everything she could to stay there. But it was all a lie. And now they knew it. What was worse, Zim knew it. That little pain in the ass managed to make it to elite the first time, even while being a walking disaster, and he never had to deliberately cheat. The idea of him lording that over her was enough to make her blood boil.

“Perhaps you can prove everyone wrong, though,” the Irken voices went on. “Take the honest route for once in your life. Tell Zim what you learned on your little trip to Refirencee. Tell him what you suspect.”

“Fool!” Zim scoffed. “Zim already accessed Tak’s memories. I know everything she knows about the Control Brain parasite.”

“Yes, you saw the same books. But did you reach the same conclusions?”

“Guys! Don’t you see what it’s doing?” The Dib burst in. “It’s distracting you. It’s keeping you here until your leaders recover. Let’s erase those maps and get out of here!”

“Silence!” Zim snapped at Dib, then turned back to the dead-eyed Irkens. “Tell Zim what you know, creepy hive-mind…thing!”

“Have you ever wondered why you’re such a failure? Why you destroy everything you touch? Why, no matter what you do, everything always blows up in your face? It’s because you have no choice in the matter. It’s what you were made for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we push for something big, we require extra sustenance. We take this sustenance in what some have called a blood toll. On our first planet, we made many mistakes, one was asking our hosts directly for sacrifices. We know better now.”

“Ans what does this have to do with me?” Zim growled impatiently.

“Since the beginning of our reign, one PAK has been passed down through generations, carrying a suppressed impulse for destruction. We need only to activate it and we have our blood toll. Clearly our PAK has become quite damaged over the years. It no longer works quite right. You’re so defective, you couldn’t even declare your name right.”

The screen flashed the name Zim across it. It then reversed the letters and spread them out to reveal an acronym. ZIM became MIZ. And MIZ became Massacre Initiator Z.

“You were supposed to live as a low-ranking drone until we activated your destructive impulse and die in the disaster. You, however, defied us at every turn. We kept you alive out of sheer curiosity. We wanted to see how your life would play out. It’s been entertaining, however, you’ve become too great a burden to bare.”

Zim stood motionless, staring straight ahead. They waited for the typical Zim outburst of “lies!” or declaring his greatness, but nothing came. His eyes looked as dead as the possessed Irkens around them. He said nothing, did nothing. As much as Tak couldn’t stand Zim’s obnoxious voice or erratic behavior, watching him be so still was chilling.

Tak’s antenna perks at the sound of footsteps trooping down the hall. The Dib’s head darted for the door. “Guy! Come on! We’re out of time!”

Tak smacked Zim’s lifeless body away from the control panel. “Do you think you can stop us by getting into our heads?”

“Oh simple Tak,” the Irkens sighed. “We've lived in your heads since you were fitted with your packs.”

Tak sneered at them. “I cut you off for me and I won't rest until every Irken is free of you.”

“Please, you worked your whole life to get our attention. You finally have it. Do you want to throw that away? Perhaps we can find a place with someone of your drive and ingenuity.”

“Liars!” Did they think she was stupid? She knew as well as it that treason of this scale would never go unpunished. Even if they tried to appease her with a higher rank or a cushy job, it’d only be a matter of time before they got rid of her. But even the fact that it was trying to negotiate meant something. She was a threat to it, and she would stay a threat until the day she died.

“We you know you, Tak. You’re a plotter. You won't do anything rash.”

They don’t know me half as well as they think. “Want a bet?” She started hitting buttons on the control board. An alert came up on the screen and the voice blared from the speakers. “All maps queued for deletion. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

She hit one more button and the screen went black. “Deletion successful.”

“Take that you parasite bitch.”

“Come on,” Dib begged, pulling on her arm. The footsteps were noticeably louder. “We have to go now!”

Tak took off running and Dib pulled on the frozen Zim until his legs moved. They burst into the hall and immediately came across a group of Irkan soldiers. “There they are!” one of the soldiers cried.

Tak led the way as they ran toward the ship’s hanger. The soldiers fired at them. A laser cannon popped out of Tak’s pack and returned fire, but it was difficult for her to aim while leading the dash to the Voot. She wished one of her companions had could back her up with a pistol but Zim was still barely conscious and Dib was preoccupied with keeping his legs moving. The sound of little metallic feet running beside them gave her an idea.

“Zim, tell me your SIR unit to go into defensive mode.

There was no response. Zim was as helpful as a sack of empty ginzor cans.

“Hey Zim’s robot,” Dib said to the little SIR unit.

Gir looked up at him curiously. “Hmm?”

“Don't you have any weapons or something?”

“Huh?”

“You know, something that makes pretty lights and goes ‘pew, pew’?”

“Oh that. I got that.” A giant laser cannon popped out of his head and he fired wildly into the soldiers behind them, forcing the Irkens to scatter for cover

Finally, they made it to the hangar and all jumped in the Voot. Zim slid zombie-like into the pilot seat.

“Come on,” Dib said, shaking Zim’s shoulder. “Get us out of here!”

“Zim!” Tak snapped. “If you don't fly this ship, I will!”

That seemed to work. Zim shook off whatever stupor he was in and his usual look of single-minded determination returned to his eyes. “No one pilots Zim’s ship but Zim!” He took hold of the controls and the ship roared to life. In a flash, they took off into the stars.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfic #invader zim fanfiction #parasite au #iz parasite au #zim #tak #dib #gir #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #iz #zadf #sweetiepie writes #sweetipiewrites #sweetiepie fanfiction #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie08

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andorwhore · 4 years

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Saudade - II of VII

Chapter II of VII: Agreement

summary: A year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one… chapter two: How does a slicer gain the trust of a rebel? They don’t.

author’s note: Wow, long time no post. I’ve been trying to finish the last two chapters of this fic, which have been giving me a lot of trouble, so I haven’t wanted to post anything in the meantime. But I realized how damn long its been since I’ve updated, so time for another chapter!

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC word count: 10,434 (its another doozy lads) rating: T, eventual R warnings: none (yet)

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

[ff.net] [ao3]

Jai Tillian maneuvered around pilots, spies, and fellow technicians as she made her way across the hangar at Yavin 4 headquarters. Over one shoulder was a purse of technical equipment, and in the opposite hand she cradled a datapad close to her chest. Her strides were long and quick as she aimed to get to the east end of the haggar, scheduled to run a diagnostics test on one of the gunships that had recently returned from a mission; apparently the computer wasn’t processing as it should, resulting in multiple issues during its last voyage.

Jai’s whole morning was booked with busy work, jumping from ship to ship, running tests or upgrading software on each one she entered. She fell a little behind schedule during her last test on a corvette, as the pilot was being far too distracting the entire time, and Jai hoped that this next one she had to deal with on the gunship wouldn’t interrupt her focus.

Jai had been with the Alliance for a little over a month, and yet it still seemed odd to say so. She had been accepted in by the council and the other technicians that she had met thus far, had spent nearly every meal sat with Miona, and had been between the control room and the hangar nearly every day learning. Yet it didn’t feel completely real, it felt as if any day now she’d be told play time was over and she’d be sent back to the Ring of Kafrene.

Jai didn’t know entirely what her thoughts were on the matter of the Rebellion versus the Empire, though she wouldn’t dare say so out loud to anyone here. Perhaps she should feel wrong for being with the rebels while trying to confront her own political doubts, should feel as if she were simply faking it to finally experience some new excitement in her life, but she didn’t feel wrong for it. Jai knew she agreed with what the Rebel Alliance was fighting for, she simply didn’t have the same passion and intensity that everyone else seemed to. And there was nothing wrong with lacking fervor in her personality, was there?

Jai had never been a particularly zealous or excitable person. Those that knew her often noted that she had an incredibly relaxed and flat way about her, verging on coming off indifferent and disinterested. It’s how she had always been, not by choice or by force, but simply by nature. She rarely became too passionate, too angry, or too sad. Her anger was perhaps the most easily triggered of the three, after all it was always the easiest emotion for anyone to fall into so long as their buttons were pushed just right, but even then her anger never seemed to come off as aggressive as others’ and it never lasted very long at all.

Maybe from a young age Jai had learned not to invest herself in emotions. Back on the Ring of Kafrene, her life was relatively uneventful, save for the occasions in her youth when she and her siblings got caught causing trouble. Despite the vast array of people that traveled to and lived in the colony, Kafrene was actually quite mundane, being particularly monotonous to a child who’s intellect led her to quickly becoming bored of the people and things around her.

As an adult, that quality in Jai hadn’t changed. It wasn’t that she thought herself too smart or too ambitious for Kafrene, in fact Jai often found herself to be of plain intelligence and of lackluster drive. Kafrene was simply too repetitive and predictable after seventeen years of growing up there. That’s why she could come off nearly cocky about her slicer skills -- codebreaking had become one of the only things that could hold Jai’s interest, and so she came as close as she could to perfecting those skills given her limited resources.

The one thing Jai could say genuinely excited her was building new equipment or upgrading her scramble key in some way. The stimulation and excitement of finally getting a successful result after trial and error of testing out a new piece of tech was virtually unrivaled by anything else. Sure, there was a distinct joy she use to feel with her family in her youth, there was a certain thrill whenever she was working on challenging slicing project, and an undeniable sensation when she, on rare occasions, engaging with someone else sexually, but for Jai nothing really compared to spending hours alone at her messy workbench, fussing with her scramble key until she perfected whatever she was trying to achieve.

Some of that excitement she still felt here on Yavin 4, but the work she was given had yet to be particularly stimulating. As a newbie, Jai was often shadowing other rebels to better understand what the technicians did at base in every relevant department. A number of the techs were trained for field work, but the majority that Jai had been working with so far stayed behind at headquarters, putting their skills towards encryption and decryption, repairs and upgrades. Jai had made it known that she’d be interested in training as a field tech, but it seemed that she may not get the opportunity yet, as no one she spoke to showed much enthusiasm for the idea. Jai hoped that she didn’t grow bored too quickly -- she was far too tired of constantly becoming bored by things, and she hoped being with the Rebellion would supply her with the stimulation she needed to stay invested.

Jai finished her job on the X4 gunship with relative ease, finding the glitch in the software and quickly remedying the problem. As she exited the ship, she looked down at the datapad to see if she’d gotten any messages about the next ship that needed her attention, but she didn’t receive any. So, she started back toward the main workstation, knowing that surely enough she would be called to something else soon.

As Jai rounded a large freighter a voice called to her to step out of the way, to which she did promptly while looking up. Two other technicians were passing by with a large equipment cart between them, and Jai did a double-take at the content inside.

Was that Cassian Andor’s droid?

As the technicians passed her, Jai asked them to stop, looking at the KX that was currently shut down.

“Shit, he’s seen better days.” She remarked while leaning over the equipment cart -- the droid’s right leg looked as if it were hanging onto his torso by a thread, it's usually pristine metal armor dented, scuffed, and stained, and there was definitely some kind of heavy damage to the back of it’s head, though Jai didn’t reach out to get a better look at it, “What happen here?”

One of the techs shrug, “Hell if we know, Gar’s over there right now trying to figure it out.”

He motioned behind himself with his head, Jai’s eyes following the indicated direction until she finally spotted Cassian and the head tech, Gar, standing just outside of the U-Wing. Jai stepped out of the way, and the two technicians continued to the workroom without saying another word.

Since their meeting and quarrel last month, Jai and Cassian had hardly seen one another, and neither had any intentions to approach first. The day he’d found her on his ship was still rather clear in Jai’s head; when she recalled the way he was very nearly kind to her, she was puzzled, especially given that after that he’d only been dismissive and even rude. Jai had heard a lot of good things about Cassian, heard other rebels sing his praise with admiration. Jai could tell he was a good man with good intentions; but, she pieced together quickly, he was incredibly passionate, and in that way, the two were a stark contrast. Perhaps even that first day they met Cassian could sense her general indifference towards everything, even as she sat on the floor of his ship with a gunshot wound in her stomach.

Maybe that was why he’d been so adamant that there was no place for her in the Rebellion. He was aggressively passionate, and she was aggressively impassive.

There was no reason for either to consider resolving their dispute from those first couple of days -- they worked different departments, Cassian was often away on jobs, and Jai was still too new to the Rebellion to be given any work of value. Their paths weren’t meant to cross again any time soon, and yet, something told Jai she was supposed to see K-2SO and, as a result, go looking for the droid’s partner.

Jai stayed planted where she stood, observant eyes watching the conversation going on between Cassian and Gar as a pair of agents stepped off of Cassian’s ship behind them. Jai could tell even from here that Cassian was exasperated, the look on his face and the upset way he moved his arms being a dead giveaway. Jai tilted her head slightly as she studied him -- did Cassian make a habit of going off on people like this?

No, Jai recognized quickly that he wasn’t yelling at Gar, nor did it seem that his anger was even directed to the other man. He was upset about whatever the hell happened to K-2SO.

For a couple of seconds, Jai didn’t even realize she was walking toward the pair, seemingly pulled by some curious invisible thread. And once she became aware of what she was doing she didn’t hesitate or pause to consider what exactly she intended to do once she got there. She was curious about what happened to the droid, and she was still holding onto some of that curiosity about the captain as well.

Jai was finally within earshot of the pair, though still far enough away that Cassian had yet to take notice of her.

“I’m supposed to be in Dennaskar by tomorrow, I need Kay with me.” Cassian insisted, and now that she was closer Jai could recognize that it wasn’t just upset in his expression, but also worry and concern for the droid, “Gar, is there any way you can speed up the repairs?”

Gar shook his head, “Cassian, this is at least a two day repair job, and that’s not even considering any work we may need to do if there’s been any serious damage to his software.”

Jai stole a glance back toward the techs’ workbench, spotting K-2SO being brought back into the workshop where more serious repairs were handled. She turned forward again and walked the short distance to the men, Gar spotting her first as she began to speak.

“So, what the hell happened to him?” She asked casually while jerking her thumb in the direction the droid disappeared in, looking between the men briefly before her eyes settled on Cassian. His expression seemed to harden just a little, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jai; so, he was still holding onto some kind of grudge against her.

“Ran into some hostiles on a job.” Cassian answered simply, knowing there wasn’t need to elaborate. Despite the fact that there were four other rebels with him and Kay on that mission, somehow they were still unprepared. At least no one was seriously injured aside from the droid. Cassian looked back to Gar, “You’re certain it’ll take two days?”

“Or more.”

“Could be three if that damage to his head is as bad as it looks.” Jai added, and, though it was subtle, both men looked at her as if her contribution was unwanted.

“Great…” Cassian muttered while crossing his arms. He looked away from the technicians, taking a deep breath as his eyes searched the hangar as if somewhere there was an answer to a question that he hadn’t even asked. Jai watched with a slight tilt to her head before turning her focus back over to Gar.

“I can help with K-2, if you need it.” She offered, interested to see what made the reprogrammed Imperial droid tick, “I haven’t done a lot of droid work, but if you need an extra hand I’d love to see what you’re doing.”

Gar was considered the resident droid expert, among other things, who trained all of the newbies that showed any interest in droid mechanics. He could handle both the external repairs as well as internal repairs in droids’ chips, dataframes, and keys, and he did so better than anyone else in the Alliance.

To Jai’s suggestion, he shook his head, answering dismissively, “My team’s good right now, Tillian.” She gave an accepting nod, though she was mildly disappointed by the answer. As Jai started to look down, she noticed that Cassian had returned his eyes to her watchfully, “I need to get started on Kay; I’ll ask around, see who can go with you to Dennaskar.”

“No one is as good as Kay.” Cassian replied matter-of-factly, and Gar’s expression suggested he thought the same, though he made no sound of agreement.

“You know you can’t do the job alone.”

Cassian knew that to be true, but there was no need to verbalize that. With one last look between the captain and Jai, Gar turned and began in the direction of his workshop.

Jai felt a sinking feeling in her stomach almost immediately, realizing she was standing here with Cassian on her own. Despite all the activity going on around them in the hangar, it felt as if there was some kind of bubble muting out all of the outside noise; Jai’s back became a little stiff as she immediately felt a tension grow between them.

“Where’s Dennaskar?” She asked simply as she looked past Cassian and toward his ship, assessing its appearance -- whatever troubles they had encountered on their last mission luckily hadn’t reached his ship, or the damage was so minor that Jai didn’t notice it.

“Mid Rim, Manda Sector.” Cassian answered, his tone flat and indifferent towards her, knowing there was no need for aggression; something about Jai may still have rubbed him the wrong way, but he’d gotten past any of the upset he had towards her, at least for the moment.

“And what’s there?” Jai’s tone, too, sounded somewhat detached; despite being able to get under her skin, Cassian also seemed to have this ability to make her nervous without doing a damned thing. For a few long, stiff moments he didn’t reply -- the tension was slowly growing thicker.

Cassian spun on his heel to face his ship, looking up at it with his arms crossed for a few seconds longer, “There’s a lab that supplies the Empire with vehicles and weapons. Kay was supposed to go in and steal data about their recent supply; now I have to figure out another way to get the information without him.”

Cassian started walking back toward his ship, and with a furrow of her brow, Jai followed just a couple steps behind.

Stealing data? Jai could do that in her sleep; she knew a number of other technicians here could do the exact same thing. She could see the advantage of sending K-2SO in to take care of it, given that he was a droid and could probably blend in with the rest of the Imperial security team at this laboratory, but Cassian could still get the job done if he brought in a well-rounded technician. Or…

“Sounds like you could use a slicer.” Jai’s tone finally sounded eager with suggestion, and Cassian faltered only a half-step before continuing, his head tilting slightly in her direction curiously. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was suggesting, and Cassian scoffed at the idea of it.

“If you’re suggesting I take you, the answer is no.” Cassian spoke firmly and nearly mocking while stepping into his U-Wing, looking at the supplies that were left behind by the rest of his team. Jai paused to lean in the doorframe, crossing her arms as her brow furrowed slightly. When Cassian looked back toward her, his eyes were authoritative and dismissive. Without saying a word, he made it quite clear he didn’t trust Jai.

She shrugged her shoulders while rolling her eyes, “And why not? You need a good tech person, and I need field training.”

“I’m not here to train some careless slicer.” Cassian’s condescending tone caused Jai’s eyes to harden as she sucked in her cheeks in annoyance. What was it about this captain that managed to upset her far too easily?

Cassian turned his back to her again, picking up the supply bag left on the floor before brushing past Jai and walking across the hangar. Once again, Jai was right on his heels.

Jai continued in an accusatory tone, “What’s your problem with me?” Cassian barely spared a glance back at her, “Is it the fact that I’m a slicer? Or because I talk back to you? Or are you just bitter that I’m here?”

Cassian’s eyes hardened as he scoffed at her again, “You tried to steal from me, you broke into private files about me, you joined this Rebellion because you were bored, and you continue to show very little interest in the cause you’re here for.”

Jai huffed as they reached a supply table, her lips pulling back in an unamused sneer. Cassian dropped his bag a little too roughly atop the table as he looked to see what he needed to stock up on, “I think you’re just intent on not liking me.”

“And if I am?” He questioned, looking at her briefly with judgmental eyes, “Why does it matter to you?”

The faintest of smirks seemed to ghost over Cassian’s lips, as if pleased that he turned this back around on Jai, who was currently staring at him with an expression that suggested she herself was mulling over that exact question. Cassian silently returned to filling the bag before slinging it over his shoulder and beginning to retreat back to his U-Wing, thinking he’d put a pause to Jai’s pursuit.

“Andor!” He heard from behind him less than a minute later. His steps nearly stuttered, sighing while his eyes rolled back into his head in annoyance -- it looked like Jai was a little more stubborn than he’d given her credit for. Cassian heard her footsteps jogging up behind him, and he refused to look down at her once she’d reached his side, “Look, just set aside whatever this issue is and take me to Dennaskar.”

Cassian was tempted to question her, but kept his mouth shut while continuing to his ship. He could feel Jai looking up at him expectantly, but he kept his eyes forward.

“How many other techs do you know that could do the job properly? You were gonna have K-2 hack into their computers and download information, right? I can do that, my tools work nearly as quick as a droid can, sometimes even quicker.”

Cassian continued to bite his tongue. But apparently Jai didn’t take well to that, because after a few moments she quickly stepped up in front of him, eyes hardening with resolve.

“Don’t ignore me.” Cassian’s brows rose in surprise at her tone, but the rest of his expression made no show of the reaction.

“Would you rather we go on arguing?” He countered.

“Please let me do the job -- no one here is willing to give me decent jobs because they still see me as a newbie.”

“Because you are.” Cassian replied firmly, “Being good with computers does not automatically mean they’ll throw you into complex jobs -- you have to work your way up. You’d know how that works if you’d ever had a real job.”

Jai was ready to argue back, but managed to stop herself and take a deep breath, trying to calm down the upset that had begun to rise in her. Her tone was calm again as she spoke, “I’ll have you know, I did have a real job.”

Cassian’s face unexpectedly pulled into a look of amusement, though there was mockery to it and doubt in his tone, “Really?”

“Yes.” Jai replied simply, putting no effort into trying to convince the captain, knowing it to be a pointless endeavor. Cassian gave a slight hum before stepping around her and continuing the short trek to his U-Wing. As he expected, he could hear Jai behind him, “You said you need to be in Dennaskar by tomorrow -- if you take me, you don’t have to worry about being behind schedule because you had to find someone. Just take me on this one job, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

Cassian replaced his supply bag to where it belonged, turning around to look at Jai as he crossed his arms. One of his brows was raised as he stared into her face -- this was fascinating. He didn’t expect Jai to show such an interest in anything given her track record. Despite the fact that Cassian had avoided interacting with Jai since her arrival here, he nonetheless had asked about her on occasion, curious to hear about this slicer that was so obviously misplaced in the Rebellion. He asked that tech friend of hers, Abe, about how she acted and he asked Gar how she performed -- Cassian interpreted from both responses that she was indifferent to this job. She never seemed to discuss the cause with anyone, even if someone asked her about it, and she seemed to approach her assignments with boredom. Maybe Abe and Gar misinterpreted her, or maybe it was Cassian that misinterpreted their descriptions. Either way, the insistence Jai showed to be a part of this mission opposed the profile Cassian had been building on her in his head.

Maybe she was more invested in the cause than she let on. Maybe she was just bored out of her mind here on base.

“Why do you want to go?” Cassian finally asked, though he no longer spoke with venom or mockery. His question came across curious and, dare Jai say, actually interested to hear what kind of answer she’d give him. Even his expression lost some of it’s harshness as he awaited her reply. And it was as if that change in his tone allowed some of Jai’s tension to dispel, because she was suddenly able to think a little more calmly and slowly, to actually consider for herself why she wanted to go on this mission.

She was quiet for a little while, arms hanging at her sides as she tried to find the right words, “I need to prove myself.” Cassian’s brows briefly rose as a silent instruction to continue, his interest still held, “The only way these people will take me seriously is if I do a field mission. No one wants to give me anything more than busy work because they doubt what I can do.”

“And do you?” Jai gave him a confused look at the question that sprung from his lips, “Doubt yourself?”

Jai laughed through her nose as she smirked, answering surely, “No.”

Cassian gave a single nod, uncrossing his arms as he turned toward the steps into the cockpit, though he didn’t make a move to ascend them just yet. He stood paused in consideration, looking down at the floor while mulling over Jai’s explanation. The young technician stared at him patiently, though she was certain he’d tell her any second now to go back up to the control room to fuss with her computers.

“Get whatever you need.” Cassian finally spoke, looking back to Jai, “Tell Gar where you’re going, and be back here in half an hour.”

Jai’s eyes grew large and alight with excitement, her mouth pulling into a small, surprised smile -- Cassian nearly made a face at the expression, not expecting such an obvious reaction from this woman who was either irritatingly neutral or simply angry. Jai gave a nod and spun on her heel quickly, barely refraining from running across the hangar toward the turbolift.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jai sat in the U-Wing’s copilot seat, her legs pulled up for her heels to rest on the edge of the chair, using her knees as a place to hold her datapad. She was reading up on Dennaskar and the Santhe Corporations laboratory, digging through all the data the Alliance had collected on them. In the seat beside her, Cassian’s eyes seemed entirely focused on the vast space around them, his expression giving away nothing to his thoughts on their mission or on the woman that tagged along with him. The only tell that he was not entirely invested in his new mission partner was the way his lips looked to be tight with tension.

Not far from the Santhe lab was the city of Juspus, which housed the planet’s largest starport. Cassian informed Jai that he had a contact in Juspus that would meet him at the port to supply them with Santhe uniforms and a secure way to get into the lab; Jai, having grown up learning to be wary of others, found herself wondering if the contact was someone they could trust, but she refrained from vocalizing her doubts.

“What data am I looking for when we get there?” Jai asked as she continued to slide through the information on her screen.

“Santhe rolled out a new series of gunships for the Empire recently, but we think that may have been a cover for something.”

“And what makes us think that?” Jai rolled her head lazily on the head rest to glance at Cassian.

Upon feeling her eyes watching him, Cassian briefly looked back at Jai, “Santhe is the Empire’s largest supplier of ships and weapons. On a recent mission another captain got word that the Empire may be working on something new unlike any of their usual weapons -- if that’s the case, Santhe is almost surely involved.”

Jai pushed out her chin slightly as she mulled over his reply before looking back down to her datapad, “So, you want to get your hands on all the files relating to their newest series to see if there’s information hidden in them.” Her brows knit together as she considered that, “What if we just… took all of Santhe’s data?”

Confusion pulled at Cassian’s brow as he turned his eyes to the woman again, looking for clarification, “All of it?”

She gave a brief nod while meeting Cassian’s eyes again, “If they have something to do with a new secret weapon, what makes you think that information is solely disguised or hidden in their recent gunship files? It could be somewhere else in their database. And I doubt we’ll have the time to sift through all of the information while we’re there, it’s too risky to waste that kind of time, so what if we just download all of it to my drive?”

Cassian stared at her quietly for a few moments -- he was nearly begrudging to admit it was a good idea. If he had Kay with him, Cassian knew the droid would have been able to latch onto the appropriate information in Santhe’s system and get out of there quickly. Cassian hadn’t yet considered that even a talented slicer couldn’t perform that task the way a droid could.

“You think you can do that? And quickly?” He questioned, sounding hopeful, maybe even eager about her plan.

“I can do it, I just need you to make sure I have the time.” There was a seriousness in Jai’s eyes that Cassian hadn’t seen before, though really his two previous encounters with her weren’t much of a basis for comparison. He was sure Jai wanted to look knowing in her seriousness, but Cassian could tell it was worry that he saw hidden in her gaze, “They have to have an archive computer of some kind, and where there’s an archive there’s someone managing it. I need you to keep them occupied long enough for me to get into their system and copy everything out of the archive and to my drive.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed, wondering what kind of jobs Jai had done back on Kafrene to give her this kind of thoughtfulness.

Jai shook her head quickly, “Nothing even remotely close to this, I just know a guy who knows a guy.”

Cassian doubted it was worth asking her to elaborate, not that he cared much for the details to begin with. He turned his eyes forward again as Jai continued to plan out the specifics of the next few hours. Occasionally she chimed up to ask Cassian a question about the lab or this contact he had on Dennaskar, but otherwise the two remained in a tense silence.

As they were finally nearing Dennaskar’s starport, Cassian reached out to his contact so they could meet and collect the disguises and building access. He instructed Jai to stay back on the ship, not wanting his contact to be exposed to any more rebels than necessary just in case the man ever felt enticed to turn against them. Once Cassian had left, Jai continued to occupy herself with more planning and speculation for the mission.

She wouldn’t dare admit she was nervous -- the last thing she needed was for Cassian to know. There were a million ways this job could go south, and if she vocalized any of those doubts, Jai was sure she’d trip herself up somewhere along the way and their efforts would be wasted. She knew she could do what the job required of her -- she had the equipment and the confidence in her expertise as a slicer, and navigating foreign computers was certainly not any reason to doubt her skills. But going into a massive Empire affiliated lab where they were severely outnumbered was a terrifying thought, to put it mildly.

“Maybe we need a speeder… should we have put someone at base on standby…” Jai mumbled to herself to try to keep her anxiety at bay. She continued to mutter both useful and not-so-useful thoughts to keep herself distracted as she fiddled with her scramble key.

From her seat in the cockpit, Jai’s eyes slowly slid across the expanse of the port, studying the hundreds of ships and people thoughtfully, counting each time she spotted a stormtrooper. There weren’t many to be found, though that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking around somewhere; Jai wondered just how many there were at the Santhe lab, and if they were smart enough to sniff out rebels in disguise.

Behind her, the hatch door opened again, Jai turning to sit at an angle so she could lean forward and look at Cassian. The bag that he had thrown over his shoulder prior to leaving the ship was now fuller than it had been before, obviously stuffed with the uniforms he borrowed. As he closed the door behind him, Cassian looked up at Jai briefly while setting the bag down on one of the collapsable seats, beginning to pull out the articles of clothing with that same unreadable expression etched across his face that he’d had the entire flight.

“Come on, we have to be quick.” Cassian started as he held up one of the shirts to see if it was his size or Jai’s. The slicer hopped to her feet and joined him, taking the shirt that he absently held out to her with one hand as his other continued to sort out the clothes, “Most of the staff is only on base for another couple of hours -- it’s better to go in while the place is packed with employees than to wait till later when security is more alert.”

Jai nodded, though she knew Cassian didn’t see it as he shrugged out of his vest, dropping it onto one of the seats. She followed suit, pulling off her jacket and setting it aside, glancing back at Cassian as he started to undo his shirt as well. Jai’s eyes widened some with a tinge of interest -- sure, she had seen a few people strip in front of her in the past, but it was not something treated so casually nor was it something she was all that accustomed to. Cassian didn’t even seem to give it a second thought, and before he could show too much skin Jai turned so her shoulder was toward him, dropping her head down as she too tugged at her own shirt.

As she reached to scoop up the white Santhe shirt off the chair, Jai’s eyes pulled back to Cassian, looking him up and down with a look somewhere between curiosity and sheepishness, her stare lingering on his shoulders and then his lat muscles before they were covered by his new shirt. Feeling her cheeks redden, Jai turned away again before Cassian could notice her stare, picking up her pace.

Cassian, accustomed to being in close quarters with other soldiers, didn’t even consider whether or not Jai herself would be so comfortable with them changing in front of one another, and the thought continued to evade him when he turned back toward her as she was buckling her trousers. He paid almost no mind to the flash of her stomach that he got, only staring at her a moment before grabbing up his blaster and a couple of small tools from his discarded clothes.

Once she was situated in the uniform, Jai climbed back up into the cockpit to grab her tool bag, digging out her datapad and scramble key, knowing that she couldn’t bring the entire bag with her. As she tucked the datapad into the back of her pants, Jai considered what else she might need, stealing another look towards Cassian as if he could read her mind and tell her; the man simply stared back with slight impatience. She decided that she had all she needed, so she dropped her bag with the rest of their belongings and put the scramble key in one of her pockets.

Just before they stepped off of the ship, Cassian grabbed a second blaster and held it out to Jai, whose stare lingered on the weapon for a couple of moments before she slowly took it from his grasp.

“What, no weapons training yet?” He condescended, to which Jai shook her head with a glare, “Can’t shoot and can’t fly…”

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you on this mission, after all.’ Jai was sure Cassian wanted to say.

“And you can’t slice.” She bit back dismissively, breezing past Cassian and out of the ship. He scowled at the back of Jai’s head for a moment before following her out and leading the way through the port.

Cassian’s contact left an indiscript speeder for them to get up to the lab, but nothing else beyond that -- once they got to that front gate, the rest was up to them.

It was simple enough for Jai to bypass the security gate without an access card, and once through the gate they could walk into Santhe Labs without any trouble. Once inside, however, they had to figure out where they were going, seeing as there wasn’t exactly a map of the place just sitting around for them -- Cassian hadn’t prepared for someone to take K-2SO’s place, as the droid was supposed to lead the way through the lab.

“What, you didn’t think to try to get floor plans before coming here?” Jai reprimanded through her teeth, hoping to avoid drawing any attention as they passed Santhe employees; so far, no one seemed to bat an eye at them.

“You didn’t think to either.” Cassian retorted.

“You’d lead a woman to think this was your first mission…” The pair turned their dark eyes on one another at the exact same moment, glowering.

“Up until a few hours ago I thought I’d have Kay with me to navigate the building.”

Jai hummed in annoyance while looking away from him, quickly stepping into a hall just as they nearly passed it. Cassian had to turn on his heel to follow her, the two ducking into an empty part of the hallway so Jai could snatch her datapad from where it was tucked in her waistband. She started tapping on it a little too roughly, an obvious passive aggressive gesture as she glanced up at Cassian while she did so. He quirked a challenging brow at Jai before she turned back to her screen, Cassian looking up and down the hall to ensure they continued to remain inconspicuous.

Eventually, Jai began leading the way through the halls again, her expression resolute as she avoided sparing Cassian a glance. The two went and boarded a turbolift that they fortunately had all to themselves. Cassian had expected another long stretch of rigid silence, but as soon as the doors were closed Jai began speaking, continuing to avoid looking toward him.

“Once we’re in the archives, I need you to do exactly what I ask, or else this won’t work.” Her tone was hawkish, unexpectedly stern and authoritative, “I’ll make sure we get the data, you make sure we get out of here in one piece.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They weren’t going to get out of here in one piece.

Jai got all of the information they needed, and Cassian had been the perfect distraction just like she asked him to be. They strolled on out of the building without any issues and climbed back into their borrowed speeder, ready to head back to Yavin 4 with their new data and their confidence well intact.

But then they passed through the gates to exit Santhe Labs, and trouble was there waiting for them.

They found themselves confronted by a wall of stormtroopers, all ready to start shooting if the pair didn’t surrender whatever it was that they stole. One of the troopers in the center of the group began to lower his weapon while stepping forward, instructing the rebels to give up their stolen information and surrender. Jai’s eyes widened with worry as she looked back towards Cassian, but the captain looked calm and resolute as he took a few deep breaths through his nose, staring unblinkingly at the Empire troop as the leader began to repeat himself.

Jai wasn’t prepared for just how quickly Cassian sprung into action. He threw his hand on the back of her head and shoved it down to rest atop her knees, slouching down in his own seat as he suddenly sped through the blockade in front of them, roughly knocking down a number of stormtroopers as the rest jumped away from the speeding vehicle.

Almost instantly, blasters started shooting off from what sounded like every direction, ricocheting off of the metal and shattering the thin glass panel that lined the front of the speeder’s cockpit. Jai threw her hands out to either side of her in search of a secure grip, her right latching onto the inner wall of the speeder and the other clamping down on Cassian’s knee. If it weren’t for his state of complete focus, Cassian would have shouted at Jai for digging her nails so deep that she managed to break skin even through the layer of fabric.

After they were out of range of the shots, at least for the time being, Cassian pulled his hand out of Jai’s hair and retrieved his blaster from where it was tucked under his shirt, dropping it into his lap so he could use both hands to maneuver their speeder through the narrow streets of of Juspus. Jai’s head shot back up, eyes wide and jaw slightly agape as she whipped around to look back at the Empire forces they just evaded. She relinquished her grip on both the wall and on Cassian’s thigh as she propped herself on her knees and fumbled to grab her own blaster.

“Did you set off some kind of security in there!?” Cassian accused as he sped past buildings, knowing that any moment now stormtroopers, likely with their own varieties of speeders, would catch up to them.

Jai’s glare jumped toward him, “It was probably your fucking contact that sold us out!”

A barrage of shots sounded behind from down the street, but Cassian managed to whip around a corner and avoid most of them. He steadied out the speeder again as his eyes darted around, trying to spot everywhere the stormtroopers might be waiting for them.

He didn’t have the patience to argue, not right now -- he had to get them back to their ship and off of this planet before it was too late, “Here’s your crash course in using that damned thing!” He spared a glance at Jai so he could point toward her blaster with his chin, “Put that thing on kill setting and don’t hesitate!”

Jai looked warily at the gun in her hands, staring almost dumbly at it for a moment. Another laser flew between them, causing Jai to jump before securing her grip and lifting the blaster up to eye level. She turned in her seat to face behind them, eyes widening as she saw the squad of stormtroopers on their tail and closing in.

“Keep low so you’re a smaller target!” Cassian instructed, “And hold on!”

Jai barely had time to steady herself before Cassian sharply rounded another corner. She sank as low in the seat as she could, her arms resting along the back of the speeder and her eyes level with the weapon. As the stormtroopers rounded the corner behind them, Jai’s finger pressed down on the trigger and she let out a short string of blasts, only managing to land a couple with how unsteady and untrained her aim was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassian also take up his blaster, holding it ready to assist her. Every few seconds, Cassian would whip his head back long enough to vaguely line up his shot and pull the trigger a couple of times before returning his attention to the road ahead of them.

Eventually, they made another dramatic sharp turn, but before they could even make sense of the company of stormtroopers waiting there for them, the speeder was hit with a blast, perhaps from a grenade, and the vehicle went flying back as the engine exploded, dumping both passengers out onto the street. The speeder crashed roughly into a nearby wall as thick smoke, dust, and debris filled the air and blinded everyone.

Jai could hear a ringing in her ears as she immediately made to scramble out of the line of fire -- she may not have been a rebel for long, but back on the Ring of Kafrene, she’d been accidentally caught up in her fair share of street fights through the years. Growing up, one learned early on that you had to be quick to run whenever you started hearing shots and blasts echoing through the narrow Kafrene streets.

As Jai flung herself into an alleyway, fumbling with both her blaster and her datapad to ensure she didn’t drop either, the dust from their crash began to settle; she could see that Cassian had the same idea as her, as he had rushed to duck into the alley on the opposite side of the street from her.

For a long moment, none of the stormtroopers moved, and Cassian’s distressed eyes finally spotted Jai across the way from him. The relief that washed over him was immediately obvious -- for a minute there, he was almost sure that something terrible had happened to the rookie. The two stared wide eyed at one another, each breathing rapidly and listening carefully for when the stormtroopers would surely start moving and shooting again any moment now.

Cassian motioned up the street with his head, trying to keep their communication silent. ‘Go,’ he mouthed, Jai’s brows turning down slightly at it. A moment later, Cassian turned on his heels and began running through the alley; Jai immediately jumped to her feet and mirrored him, turning away from the Empire forces and pushing as hard as her legs would allow through the roads and pathways of Juspus.

She had to get back to Cassian. She had to get back to their ship.

Jai could hear the stormtroopers on the move not far behind her, and frantically Jai pumped her legs even harder. Jai dove through a number of short, twisting streets and alleys until she burst out onto a crowded road, whipping her head left and right in panic. She couldn’t spot Cassian or stormtroopers, nor could she hear those Empire soldiers that were pursuing her over the noise of the crowd. Jai realized that the building across from her was a large market, and without a second of hesitation, she darted towards it, hoping the cramped crowd would hide her. As she maneuvered through the Juspus locals and eyed the stalls filled with goods and food, Jai reminisced for a split second that the place reminded her of home.

Jai kept her head ducked down as she slowed her pace and mingled in with the crowd, her eyes searching the various shops for any that looked to have clothes as part of the merchandise -- she knew that she needed to get out of this Santhe uniform if she wanted to blend in and evade the stormtroopers hot on her trail.

‘Don’t fuck up now.’ Jai tried to pep herself up -- she needed to rely on her not-so-impressive thieving skills for this one. She finally spotted a tent stall with various fabrics and articles of clothing and began pushing through the crowd towards it, slinking up alongside the thin fabric wall to avoid the attention of the shopkeep.

Once the owner became distracted with a young couple at the entrance of the stall, Jai reached between the sheets that closed it off on the sides and grabbed at whatever fabric she could get her hands on, not paying much mind to what articles of clothing they even were. She grabbed far more than she needed and quickly dove back into the crowd, eyes searching up and down, left and right for any sign of stormtroopers. Despite the harsh noise of the crowd, Jai was almost sure that she could hear them somewhere around her, but she couldn’t see over the heads of everyone around her. She continued to shove her way forward, spotting another gap between two stalls and making her way towards it, ducking between them and beginning to sift through the variety of fabrics in her arms.

Luckily, there were a couple of shirts amidst the mass of clothing, both of which would surely look more like short kaftans on Jai based on their size. But that issue wasn’t even remotely on her mind as she dragged a dark colored one over her head. There were mostly scarves in the collection that she stole, and speedily she wrapped one around herself and tied it off to create a makeshift pouch for her gun and datapad, and then grabbed another scarf and started wrapping it’s layers around her head, making sure to tuck all of her ashy hair up inside it.

Jai began to relax, if only just a little. She took a few long moments to try to slow down her breathing and her heart rate, but she knew she had to get back out there quickly -- she was terrified to think of what trouble Cassian might be in right now, she had to get back to the ship and hope he managed to get back as well.

Slowly, but no less cautiously, Jai stepped back into the main stretch of the marketplace, looking around herself again for the stormtroopers. A large group of them was in the crowd behind her, and another few were up ahead near another exit, obviously scanning their eyes over the crowd carefully. Jai’s eyes widened slightly as she looked around herself, but couldn’t spot any other exit; had the stormtroopers gotten a good enough look at her face to recognize her if she walked past? She had to get out of this market, meaning she had to risk it and hope for the best.

Jai waited until a sizable mass of people were making for the exit, and she jumped into the middle of them, keeping her head turned down and praying she didn’t draw any kind of attention to herself.

Once she was outside, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief -- they hadn’t noticed her. Jai continued down the street as if she had somewhere important to be and knew exactly where she was going, her eyes remaining ever watchful as she went. Stormtroopers were still going up and down the roads in search of both she and Cassian, and Jai took every step she could to avoid getting too close to any of them.

Where the hell was she? Jai got turned around far too easily in the mass that was Juspus. She looked over the nearby faces on the street around her, carefully studying them to determine who might be safe to ask for directions, if anyone. She continued to hope that any moment now she’d see Cassian’s face appear amongst the crowds.

Eventually, an older gentleman had her turned in the right direction. Jai used as many alleys and side streets as she could so that she wouldn't draw attention to herself when she ran, and whenever she set foot onto a larger road, she abruptly slowed and walked at pace with the pedestrians around her.

Still no sign of Cassian. Despite feeling as if she had safely evaded the stormtroopers, anxiety still pounded in Jai’s chest, worry for her partner increasing with each passing minute.

‘He’s fine, he’s been doing this for two decades.’

‘But he’s all on his own and at an obvious disadvantage.’

‘But you’re alone and you managed just fine.’

‘What if there were more troops that went after him?’

‘He’s probably already back at the ship and waiting for you.’

‘Or he’s already off planet and left you for dead.’

The debate in Jai’s head seemed to grow louder and louder as she got closer to the starport, which she could now see in the distance out ahead of her. She paused and took another long, cautious look around, scanning the streets in every direction to collect a count on the stormtroopers. As she continued to approach the port, she realized a large blockage was waiting near the wide entryway -- had Cassian’s ship been identified? Were more stormtroopers up in the U-Wing and digging through all of their belongings?

Jai took a deep breath and ducked into another alleyway, pulling her datapad out of the makeshift purse and then her scramble key from her pocket, connecting the two so her datapad would work faster. She had to see if there was a second entrance or some other way of getting in.

She still had to find Cassian.

There was a north side entry into the starport. She just had to find her way to it. Did she retreat back into the hub of the city in search of her partner, or did she get herself to the U-Wing and wait for him if he wasn’t already there?

Jai peered back out into the street again as she tried to come to a decision, first looking toward the port, and then in the opposite direction. But she froze as her gaze fell on a familiar face, a sinking feeling dropping in her stomach as her eyes widened.

Cassian.

But he wasn’t alone. A stormtrooper walked on either side of him, escorting the frustrated looking captain in the direction of the starport. Were they going to search the ship? Maybe they were going to escort him off the planet and to somewhere else far worse?

It didn’t matter what they were going to do -- what mattered was that her partner was grabbed, and Jai had to do something about it.

She traded her datapad for her blaster -- there was still a significant distance between them and the port entrances. If Jai could shoot them both down, she and Cassian would have more than enough time to run and make their way to the north entrance while the stormtroopers far down the road chased after them again.

She paused, taking a few steady breaths. Now or never. If they got any closer, the two stormtroopers would spot Jai’s attack and she’d lose the element of surprise.

Jai moved to press her back against the opposite wall, just shy of peeking around the corner. She turned her head slowly and watched the trio for a long moment before raising her blaster, trying to line up her shot.

When she pulled the trigger, the laser missed its target, zooming between Cassian and one of the stormtroopers, barely missing her partner’s head by a few inches. As both troopers immediately looked in Jai’s direction and aimed their own blasters, Cassian took advantage of their distraction, immediately fighting one for his weapon. As the two struggled with the blaster, Cassian secured his hand on the trigger and shot at the second stormtroopers, who collapsed just as he had turned to help fight Cassian. As the first trooper fell, Jai darted out toward her partner, but she kept her weapon lowered, realizing it was far too risky to try to shoot the second stormtrooper with Cassian so close.

The rebel captain managed to finally steal away the blaster and jump back, and practically in sync he and Jai took aim and both shot the trooper. They stood frozen for a moment as they met each other’s gaze, each with a look of relief shining in their eyes as they caught their breath. But they knew they couldn’t linger, and Jai moved towards Cassian with an insistent look.

“Come on.” She latched onto Cassian’s sleeve and started tugging him away into a sidestreet, knowing that the stormtroopers down at the starport entrance had surely seen their fight and would have already begun pursuing them.

Cassian allowed himself to be dragged along for a few moments almost as if he were in a daze before he stole back his arm, both surprised and gratified at how well Jai had done. As Cassian followed behind her through the streets, he stared at the back of her head with pride.

“There’s a second entrance,” Jai began to explain as she paused in a narrow alleyway, Cassian nearly bumping into her with how close he was following. She spun around to meet his eyes, a surprising calm surrounding the two of them, “I think we’ll have a better chance slipping in that way.”

Cassian looked Jai up and down, tilting his head as he finally had the opportunity to take in her change of attire and recognize how smart it was. His eyes shined with a quiet acclaim at her efforts that Jai didn’t quite recognize -- her childhood on Kafrene had taught her something valuable, it would seem.

“Lead the way.” Cassian said with a nod as he, too, decided to shrug off what he could of the Santhe uniform, discarding the formal shirt and being left with just his dark tank top as coverage; for a moment, as Jai eyed his exposed collarbone, she wished she had saved that other tunic for him. But this was better than the obvious, stark white uniform, and after meeting his eyes one more time, Jai motioned with her head for Cassian to follow, and she started leading them through Juspus once more.

Maybe they would be getting out of here in one piece after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Captain Andor, Tillian was not cleared to go on this mission, nor has she been cleared access to leave base for field training yet.” General Draven chastised with severe crossness. Across from him, Cassian and Jai stood side by side, disheveled and covered in dirt, clothing worn and ripped. They’d been back to Yavin 4 for less than ten minutes when the General marched up to them as they were on their way to the turbolift; it appeared that Draven was waiting for them, well prepared to chew them out and make Jai wish she could just shrink away from him and completely disappear.

Despite the nervous drumming in her chest, Jai’s eyes were fixed into the slightest of glares as she watched the General unblinkingly, but the man refused to look at her, his own harsh eyes trained solely on Cassian. Jai kept her lips tightly shut, fearing to even try to speak up to the man; beside her, Cassian stood tall and sure. If he was upset, he kept it well in control, though the fire in his stare gave away the intensity that was just waiting to burst at the seams as he stared back at his commander.

“I asked her to go, and she agreed.” Cassian replied simply, his tone solid and without apology; he knew the fault for the decision fell on him, and he was ready to stand by it.

“You can’t bring a rookie out without consulting me first.” Draven argued just as firmly, taking a step closer to the pair.

Challenge seemed to cross Cassian’s eyes, but he continued to keep himself unapologetically composed, “But I brought a rookie, and she performed beyond my expectations.”

Jai turned her head to look up at her partner, curiosity daring to pull at her expression -- unless she didn’t know any better, that very nearly sounded like a compliment.

“Tillian is a talented slicer,” Cassian continued just as Draven looked like he was ready to argue again, “This job wouldn’t have happened without her… She’s a valuable asset in the field.”

Jai nearly couldn’t believe Cassian was defending her, especially to General Draven. After all, the mission almost ended terribly, and Jai would have expected Cassian to attribute that near failure to her inexperience. But no, instead he stood here unwavering in front of Draven who was less than happy about Cassian’s last minute and risky decision to bring her along. Despite all of the flukes they encountered, Cassian still recognized just how hard Jai had worked on the mission, how hard she pushed to get them off of Dennaskar safely.

General Draven stared harshly at Cassian a few moments longer before his eyes finally flicked down to Jai, who took a sharp breath through her nose as her eyes met his. He only looked at her for a brief yet jarring moment before returning his glare to Cassian one last time. The General stepped back from them, starting to turn away.

“We’ll finish this later; go get yourselves cleaned up.” Without another word, he retreated back toward the turbolifts. As Cassian and Jai stood for a few long moments, she finally noticed that a few other rebels nearby in the hangar had been watching the confrontation curiously, some of whom immediately went back to work as Draven left, others continuing to eye the duo.

At nearly the same moment, Jai and Cassian turned their heads to meet one another’s eyes, silently staring for a few drawn out beats. They could see how exhausted the other was, but they could also see each other’s relief and the pride they felt for getting out of Denneskar alive and with their job complete.

Jai pressed her lips together firmly for a moment before her shoulders relaxed, “… Thanks.”

Cassian’s brows moved up slightly in question, “For what, getting you on Draven’s bad side?”

Jai nearly smiled at that, “For bringing me along even if you didn’t want to.” She pointed to where Draven had stood in front of them just a minute prior, “And for that.”

Cassian shook his head, “Thank you for not making me regret the decision.”

He began toward the turbolift, the look on his face like a silent request for Jai to come with him. Cassian chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought.

“… You did a good job,” He said, though he still wanted to avoid sounding too complimentary, “You’re still a shit shot, but you showed real smarts dealing with those troopers.”

Jai rolled her eyes, but this time she did so with a slight smirk pulling at her lips, the gesture one of amusement rather than her usual annoyance at him. The pair stepped into the turbolift to begin the ascend to the barracks; as the doors closed, Jai allowed herself to slump tiredly against the wall, slowly starting to unravel the scarf that was still loosely hanging around her head and neck. Once it was removed, Jai stared down at the scarf in her hands thoughtfully for a few moments, and for the first time it seemed as if the silence between them was actually comfortable.

Jai sighed deeply, “I think they’re gonna stick me on desk duty again.”

“Probably.”

“Maybe I can convince Gar to let me work the repair shop until Draven let’s me go out into the field.” She looked back up at Cassian, who, too, was leaning against the wall, his eyes staring ahead of him thoughtfully, “I could keep an eye on Kay, make sure no one fucks up his programming.”

At that, Cassian smiled lazily, looking back up to meet Jai’s eyes with a nearly teasing look, “Who’s to say you won’t be the one to fuck it up?”

Jai’s jaw dropped in a look of mock offense, her eyes shiny with surprised amusement -- Cassian just cracked a joke with her. The man continued to smirk smally at her, waiting for the inevitable comeback.

“If you keep giving me attitude I will.” She countered, shaking her head with mirth as the doors opened again, and the two stepped out, walking to the barracks entrance in companionable silence.

It didn’t matter that they’d surely get their asses handed to them by their superiors once Draven called them back for a debriefing -- they’d collected the information, they got off of Dannaskar unharmed, and they seemed to have finally moved on from their petty disdain for one another. At least for a little while longer, they could feel calm and content.

Cassian wouldn’t admit it out loud, but in that moment, the two of them walking together, covered in the grime from a mission that nearly went to hell, he saw a future rebel beside him, someone that he could, perhaps one day, come to trust.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Agreement [uh-gree-muhnt]

noun

the act of agreeing or of coming to a mutual arrangement/understanding

the state of being in accord

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original character #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor x reader #diego luna #rogue one #star wars #star wars fic #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #ca #fics #fics*#saudade #will the tags work??? if they dont we riot

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countryshitposts · 4 years

Text

may god forgive us all

Happy Independence Day Philip :D have a smol fanfic i speedily wrote in two days

(also btw this 5k words of plotless stuff... i don’t even have a plot when i started and finished writing this fic-)

and this ended in gay

Trigger Warnings (not much but): mentions of child abuse, subtle racism, internalised homophobia, murder and violence

Philip is on this paradisiacal beach again; the salty sea breeze softly blowing on his - chocolate tinted - skin, the sounds of birds cawing as they pass him, their wings open, flying so high, so free with the winds, no fear evident in their faces. He watches them as they soar higher and higher into the sky, and he wishes that he could be free as them.

He usually wakes up to this, whenever he finds solace in his bedroom, and then bed; he’d usually sleep right away, since sleep is kinder than his father ever is with his frigid and degrading words. He would smell warm air, and the next thing he is hearing the sounds of waves and the chirping of birds.

(It was rather puzzling at first, but he liked the sensation and scenery so he stopped complaining, since this was a gift from heaven.)

He looks down on his dainty feet as he feels something grainy yet warm sticking on the soles of his bare feet; golden sand, unlike any other fertile soil he has ever seen. He smiles at how slippery they seem to be, even kneeling down to cup a few of the sand into his hands. He simply smiles as its golden colours result back to the beach once again; it was different from the soil he’s played at in Papa’s gardens.

(Because Papa ordered him not to play with garden soil but he was never around so Philip could do as he pleased.)

The thing with this golden sand was that it was always dry, like it has no room for water to help quench their eternal thirst, unlike those dark brown (as dark as his skin, much to his irritation and chagrin) yet rich soil that is almost always scattered around in Papa’s gardens.

The blue waves roll and collide onto the shore, the watery hands even tickling his bare feet (he tries not looking at them as he watches the water absorb into the sand). The birds frolic around the air even more, their wings open and so full on display that he thinks they’re all laughing at him, because he cannot join such avian creatures.

Lucky birds, he thinks, just when another wave comes in to disrupt thoughts on how birds have the liberty to fly around the world.

(Papa boasts about sailing around the world, but Philip is not sure if he has seen the oceans he’s boasted of navigating in such an abstract view as the birds.)

He smiles, as he dips his hands into the water; he feels a hard surface touch onto his soft and small hands. Amazed and curious, he pulls it out to find a shiny pearl- something he’s never truly seen (despite the fact that Papa loved calling his island a ‘pearl’, but it isn’t meant for him but for the minerals and riches hidden deep inside the land he will supposedly inherit) before, underneath his hands it was smooth yet hard; its colours were white with a pink tint to it, but when shone under the sun it produces an entire prism of colours- a rainbow in one sphere.

His smile seems to have caused a disruption in nature, since the dark blue waves he’d seen roll in the distance crash back on shore, harder, faster, spreading its talon-like-fingers as the colossal wave makes its way towards his direction. The waves’ shadow blocks out the sun like a monster finally cornering its prey- or scaring the common sense out of the natives.

(He’s seen Papa become scared at the sheer mentions of ‘rebels’ and ‘Muslims’ from an island near them; he’s been kept oblivious to such matters, to the point that he doesn’t even know what the definitions of those words mean- but that doesn’t mean he can’t read the expressions or look of horror on Papa’s face, that usually turns to anger at the mere second.)

Philip raises his eyes to greet the oncoming wave, just a mere meter away from him, its dark blue blocking out the golden and glorious yellow sun that he had felt on his hair and back all day long, the wave creating an enormous shadow that seems to engulf everything it touches.

Waves are a powerful thing, he realises; far from shore said tides were low, small, not even looking as if it can cause harm’s way- but waves are underestimated. It runs towards the shore like it has a score to settle with the golden sand, to engage in battle, even though such waves know that they can never truly see victory once they collide onto the shore. After all, it seems that water is just seeped into the sand; they dissolve into thin air, like how the sand does not get any nutrients from such waves, while still maintaining their dry exterior.

He stares at the wave seemingly trying to come down him, trying to deprive him of all his air, undaunted.

(The only thing that scares him is his Papa’s cold and frosty glare; he can make ice just from his dark red eyes.)

Thus, the wave seems to have dove straight for him, trying to claim its price; he closes his eyes, thinking that this was the last image he would see - a giant blue wave crashing down and depriving him with air - the entire shore smelling like salt and sand and seeds.

Then he wakes up with the smell of fresh air- but not that fresh, since his father had polluted such marvelous and natural air before he had even been born, contaminating it with his orders and general - fear - attitude.

(He fears his hands and he fears his voice most of all- it was as if the entire heaven and earth shook and decided to merge out of fear.)

He looks down towards his hands- he sees no such evidence of grains of sand collecting into his hands; like he was never in a Garden of Eden after all- it was just a dream of hope and desire, into thinking that God would actually let him into the place where Adam and Eve were banished from due to listening to a snake’s whisper and letting such animal convert them to their indulgences rather than the promises of God fulfilled.

He swears at himself, feeling angry at the fact that he had just woken himself up from a dream that was meant to be forever, meant to be eternal… but then again, a dream is a shallow construct of the mind, reflecting on what he truly wants rather than what is given to him by his father- like the ungrateful little child he is.

He can already hear his Papa’s voice now, a growl and a roll of thunder, lightning igniting the entire skies. He can already feel the cold - how is skin supposed to be cold - hand on his shoulder, already anticipating his father’s disappointed look, that made his insides churn and his hands shake; even his confidence is no match for his father’s glare.

(Bonus points if he makes an ill comment about Philip’s skin tone being darker than his pale-snow-touched skin, and also - rarely - about his ‘whore’ mother.)

He sighs as he hears a couple of - rather pretty - maids asking if he was already awake (sometimes he wonders if his father would like it if he’d invite one - or two - of the maids in the house to lay with him) just beyond the doors; he gets up and starts fixing his bed (he wonders what the hell he even does in his sleep), still thinking of when he will wake up in the evening and if the shores of the beach has changed.

Then he turns his head towards the shrine of Jesus he’s had since he was an infant- a gift from Papa, to keep him faithful to the Lord above, the Creator of the Earth and the Ruler of Heavens that only allow those who had done good - and ardently believe in him - to enter into his domain of Good. with a monotone expression (he does not understand why he has to pray to a God who has yet to arrive and even grant his wishes and prayers), he approaches the shrine.

Philip touches Jesus’ bound feet, smooth yet cold to the point he’d shiver (Papa says it was made out of porcelain, so he must treat it carefully), his hands moving up to the nailed hands at the top of the cross, reminding himself that Jesus had died for all the sins of the world- and rose again. His dark brown eyes lie on Jesus’ look of pleading, his eyes giving him a look which seems as if he has experienced all kinds of torture.

Well- he was crucified, he states the obvious fact to himself, before taking the rosary he always has with him from his pockets (he has them everyday in his pockets, since Papa would sometimes show up unexpectedly and make him show that he was - indeed - praying to God at any given hour).

Philip then kneels, his knees coming to contact with the hard floors; this has always been an uncomfortable task, even if he’s been doing this since childhood- Papa tells him Jesus Christ suffered for his sins, so now he must endure such uncomfortable means to pray. He closes his eyes (what he always does to have peace of mind and also get into contact with divinity), his hands closing together on the rosary, and he opens his mouth to start the prayer.

His morning prayer (and lunch, and evening) was usually the same, only with additional words or different phrases to substitute ones that he had forgotten. He thanks God first for giving him another chance to live, another day for him to live life the best he can (which he doesn’t), then asking for God to bless him and his family and friends with longevity (which sounds so generic now that he keeps repeating those words over and over again), then asking to grant him riches unimaginable so that he can be happy (God doesn’t even respond to those wishes), and last - but not least - he asks God to change his - abominable - skin colour; to make it look like his Papa’s (The Almighty doesn’t even respond to that, no matter how many flattering comments he’s given).

After he was done praying, he stood - stumbling a little due to his knees - before staring at the shrine of Jesus, then leaving; he can’t really stand looking at a dead man’s statute. As he opens the doors to his bedroom, he greets the maids and servants courteously (giving the maids an eye of flattery and charm as he passes them as well), as he makes his way towards the farms his father has given to him to tend.

Then again, even if beaches or shores of a beautiful island are in his dreams, farms and the sheer view of mountains flourishing underneath his hands are visible in real life, and not those obsolete and destructive accounts of dreams.

Why would you try dreaming of something paradisiacal when you are already living - and slaving - in your own soil?

He’s back at the sandy shoals of the beach again; but this time it was different. It was a kind of difference that somewhat pulls on his shoulder, usually demanding him if he spots the unlike elements the night before and the night now. By a far - and disproportionate - glance, nothing on the shores were different, nothing was unusual. But if you were Philip - which you are - you’d easily notice that the reason why the shores were all so wrong and feeling different was due to the sun.

Philip, before being sent here, had - unintentionally - slept against the light of a candle wick (despite the fact Andres told him not to, but he’s not really the type to listen), while he was busily signing off letters to the other rebel groups. He’d been so deprived of sleep and wishing to actually rest that his body gave in to his desires and forced him to sleep.

Now he was here, back at these sickening shores that had haunted him since he was a child; but now with a melting sun to add insult to injury.

(He didn’t know when he started hating these shores- one day he’s decided to hate them since it’s become so mundane compared to the other sites he has seen in his long - yet laborious - life.)

His lips curl at the sight of it; its usual golden colour gives off a sickly-energy, the yellow seemingly spilling off of the golden disk that was meant to be the solar sun, which was supposed to be forever shining in times like this. But like a melting candle that gives off too much light, said sun is supposedly melting on its candle.

Philip wonders if there was any explanation to his dreams; he recalls the various education and courses he’s learned in Europe (he persuaded his Father to let him study in Europe- it’s become one of his Father’s biggest mistakes in his life), trying to make sense of his subtle dreams. He recalls that all of his dreams have some sort of symbolism tied to them.

“But what could a nonsensical shore with a dying sun represent?” he asks himself- since he is the only one present in this damned realm. “What could this possibly mean?” He swears to himself - a daily occurrence now that he’s being hunted down by his own Father - as he kicks the golden sand he’s come to know since childhood with his dark - and polished - shoe (no more of him being barefoot and running around like there’s no time in the world).

The dark-haired man sighs, before looking back at the ocean and its waves, seemingly serene- more serene than he’s ever seen it in his entire life. His dark eyes shine with fascination and a strange - yet familiar - pulling in his chest. He takes off his shoes, feeling the grains of sand on the soles of his feet for the first time since stepping onto the shore.

He smiles at the sensation; like the sand notices how distressed he is now so they try keeping him happy and smiling, his lips curving up in delight. He hears an onslaught of waves crashing back to the shore, and he turns to the blue horizon, running towards it like he was greeting an old friend he’s only seen again now. The waves seem to embody his happiness, as they dissolve back into tame waters, landing on his feet. He sighs at the sensation, sighs at becoming a child again.

Once he sees something shiny in the waters, he immediately scoops it up, and - much to his delight - he finds another pearl, its colors just like the pearls he’s seen on display, but for some reason, catching and seeing it for the first time seems to make the pearl more beautiful than it really is.

He cranes his neck to look up at the sun- but it is still giving off that dying light, but this time the entire beach was growing darker by the minute. His smile fades at seeing such a worrisome state; he doesn’t realise that the waters he had thought of as friends receded back to the seas, like he was someone unfamiliar. He glares at the sun, thinking that this would make it glow brighter, but the entire world flickers.

(“How come candles melt easily when in contact with fire?” Philip asks his friend as he writes a few more letters to their society members.

“Because they have a life-span too; just like us”, Andres - Katipunan - replies simply, yet in an absent sort of way; as if he was not as interested in this conversation as Philip is. “The wax melts due to the fire- the fire dies because it cannot be sustained by the candle any longer. They have a life-span, even if they are not living things. They can live and die as they please.”

Philip smirks into the letter - while eyeing the candle that’s been grievously lighting up the room - before turning to face him, “I got to be honest with you- perhaps you shouldn’t have studied all by yourself at all, if you’re going to declare such eccentric ideals.”

Andres scowls, but doesn’t look back at him, “You asked me why candles melt easily.”

“And your answer was about how long we live.”)

Philip wakes up with a horrible pain on the nape of his neck- he now regrets sleeping on his desk like it was the best idea he has ever thought of (to be honest, he’s not much of an ideas-master; that goes to Andres himself- but now they are not talking to each other anymore). He groans as he sits up, also realising his back hurts and that it was still evening, just by the sheer darkness of the room.

He then turns to look at his candle- the flame was extinguished, and the wax has melted to a pathetic little puddle of white mess on his table. Such a shame; he was going to pray to God Almighty for making him sleep early.

(He was also going to pray that he and Andres would be friends again- after that silly and ludicrous little spat his friend had after he was elected as President.)

He grips his rosary (that he wears proudly on his suit), muttering a few prayers towards the Lord, before getting up- he feels his head and neck throb in pain as a result of sleeping like that but he can tolerate it. After all, if Jesus can tolerate pains of being crucified, then he can tolerate having blistering pains on his body for as long as he’d like. He sighs- maybe he can spend the entire night just planning away his rather uneventful plans.

It’s why he needs Andres back- they can plan and make several attempts to drive out the Spanish once and for all. But to make him see that they deserve to be friends, one of them has to swallow their damn pride- and Philip is not good at apologising before making things even worse. Father is right; hubris truly is a man’s downfall, the path to evil and everything in-between.

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to sooth himself- before remembering that Andres used to do this with him so that the both of them can feel no stress. He feels an undermining anger; how Andres keeps climbing back to his memories like a moth to a lamp and why such memories were veiled under a fondness and a sadness; but a different kind of fondness and sadness.

The dream really did a number on him, and he didn’t like the sensation.

He steps on moist soil- an effect of the storm that had rumbled on last night, turning such a beautiful and eye-catching sight, deprived from reality, to a gloomy and dark bleak sight, as if the rain has devastated such land so much to the point it refuses to be happy anymore- like it was a wasteland and void where all of children’s happiness are sent and forgotten.

He stares at the sky- dead, the clouds as grey as the drab shade of night whenever She passes by, no sight of the sun that turns the entire world into light with just one peak of it; like it never existed before.

Like it doesn’t want to be witness to the occasion today; Philip also does not want to be witness to this as well, but it’s his job to do some justice- even if it means executing someone publicly (in the witness of all their friends). He feels another headache come in, and his hands subconsciously trace up towards the bullet wound his - old - friend had shot at.

It was still painful (but not as much as the pain he felt inside when he saw Andres aiming his gun at him), but in a sort of pinch of pain that would go away at any given time- the pinch of pain just usually reminds him that he was ambushed by his friend because he ‘took’ the goddamn position he’s always wanted his entire life.

(What if Philip never wanted that position? What if he didn’t rig the votes or confuse such voters? Will they still be friends - with false pretenses - or will their roles be reversed?)

Nevertheless, someone will still die today and such weather was suitable for this event.

His eyes avert their gaze from the sky towards his old friend- held up by two of their colleagues (he wonders what emotions those two were feeling, since before they were Philip’s friends they were Andres’). His dark eyes stare at Andres’ messy and disturbed dark hair (he’s combed it to the point Philip thinks the most monstrous of winds wouldn’t try tearing it down), his skin layered with a few mounds of dirt (Andres is conscious about filth- he hates it despite the fact he was raised in poverty), his chocolate brown eyes drooping like he was already dead, with evident dark circles on it (Andres’ eyes were almost always full of spirit and power, ambition and desire) and the only thing he was wearing is a filthy white shirt and pants (the Andres that he met ten years ago wouldn’t wear such a thing).

Philip, for his part, has to stand steadily and finally get him to talk to him- one last conversation, before his dear friend - or enemy, he doesn’t know anymore - dies. He musters the most stoic expression (which was easy, but it would perhaps be impossible to make the same face throughout the entire execution), before facing the young man once again (it was funny he looked up to Andres as a father-figure despite the both being aware that Philip was about a hundred or two years older than him).

His friend meets his eyes- then a spark reignited, but this time he looks at Philip the same way he looks at the many pictures of Spain or hearing about the ludicrous and impossible stories he’d usually tell him.

(Andres is a very reactive man- Philip was telling him of the story where his Papa had commented degradingly about his skin colour, and he gasps in shock like it was the worst crime he has ever heard in his entire life- even worse than all the murders his father has - ‘righteously’ - done in his lifetime. His reaction was so severe to the point Philip sees it as entertaining and starts venting about his life with that ‘No Good Man’.)

Andres spits on the ground - he knows he was supposed to aim at him - and the two men hold him even tighter than they did before; he glares at Philip, and he matches his glare as well, hoping his face was undecipherable enough.

“How dare you”, Andres says through gritted teeth, his eyes trying to conceal the hidden grief within but betraying him ever so slightly, ��so this is how you repay a friend?”

“You’re not my friend”, Philip drawls, feeling a satisfaction on seeing Andres look so weak and pitiful, unlike the calm and composed man that had thought he’d get some price on holding him hostage. “You tried to murder me because I won the entire elections.”

“That was supposed to be my place”, he seethes, “then you came and took it away from me.”

He tilts his head in a manner that would seemingly look innocent- but Andres knows who he really is. “I don’t think they’d listen to a commoner anyway-” He smirks as Andres tries to lunge at him, completely vulnerable from the jab, “so you can say this is a blessing; I’m more well-versed in politics and leadership than you will ever be.”

(A complete lie- he knows Andres knows he was completely indecisive and forgetful, almost always latching onto elder and ill officials until Andres sees how much he is struggling and just tries helping him with these confusing times.)

“Fuck you. I should never have let you out alive if you’re going to turn out like this.”

His face contorts to anger- he was the more passionate of the two and Andres knows how to offend him, “Excuse me? I’m the rightful heir to this stupid and cursed island- it’s my birthright by now-”

“Would the people listen to a son of Spain?” he raises a brow, almost amusedly, and it made Philip’s blood boil- to think he’d let him go free and exiled from this damned place-

“I’ve heard that you’d rather spend your time with those pretty women down the streets and make bastard children with them than actually doing the so-called ‘duties’ your father had told you to do-”

“You know nothing-” He was dreadfully angry at this point; he can already feel the entirety of his body growing as hot as summer’s heat.

“You said yourself that you wanted to waste away into nothing rather than become Spain’s little minion”, Andres shrugs like he’s not spilling his various insecurities that Philip had trusted he’d keep them to the end of his grave.

He scowls, before deciding to take another jab at the man, “Your parents would be disappointed to see you in such a state; even they know that they’re not that desperate enough for this.”

Much to his satisfaction, Andres’ eyes shine with murder, finally freeing himself from the grip of the two men, before throwing himself onto Philip, surprising his old friend with his hilarious strength and willpower to make him take back what he just said.

(Philip had a sturdy build from working in the fields his Father had cultivated; Andres meanwhile, seemed to have gained his physique perhaps a time before something had planted the idea that maybe, just maybe, he can overthrow Spain. Much to his embarrassment - which happens often - Andres usually wins all of those physical - but also playful - fights they’d do.

Which made him envy the man.)

God, Andres was heavy- especially so if he was on a rage after he had deliberately insulted his parents (and his dreadful fashion sense right now), but he ends up finding his voice and rather than shouting at him to stop damn it Andres you’re really heavy (in a playful manner but he knows they’re not being playful right now) instead he just smirks - painfully, when Andres’ arm locates itself on his thigh - and says,

“Maybe this is really the reason why your parents let themselves die from disease”, his voice is left with a tone of smugness because he can and will; he finally gets the upper hand as his hands roam around Andres’ back (he was the more ‘hand-abled’ between them), locking him in a position in which he won’t be able to get up. Andres squirms underneath him but he has an iron grip; he will not be escaping from this any time soon, since he has all the time to hurt him. He presses his lips against his ear, a warm sensation, yet cold words are soon to be said. “Because they’d know how much of a failure you are-”

He feels a sudden pain on his jaw- like the few hits he’d endured from his father (he did not endure a few of his father’s hits as well, sometimes even collapsing after enduring a beating), but this one less painful than those his father had surprised him with; but he evidently loses his firm grip on Andres, resulting on him becoming free.

Philip was always slow to recover from an assault, and it shows when he was just about to rub the forming bruise on his jaw before Andres decides to give him another punch on his right eye- now that was something comparable and akin to the punishments his father has for him (which he talks about to Andres, who usually reacts explosively and seems to hate his father even more). He gasps from the pain erupting through his skull, combined by that damn pain in his jaw.

A horrible mix of pain- one trying to conquer its way through his skull to become the only possible feeling he could feel now. His other hand - which was pressed against his back - struggles to reach the dagger he’s hidden since the very morning.

Then Andres stops struggling; like he was in no state to fight anymore, despite the influx of strength he had just experienced. Philip hesitantly meets his gaze- and to his shock he is not met by the crimson red eyes of a former friend wanting to shed blood, he was looking at the dark brown eyes of a young man who had seemingly lost something important to him.

“I want to confess something to you”, his voice was as soft as that stupid voice he keeps hearing inside of his head whenever he is alone- a voice of nurturing and care. “I let you go not only because I thought you were useful for our cause- I also let you go because, frankly, I thought you were pretty.”

Philip did not have time to realise if he meant it in a rather abstract or sinful way before he feels lips crash into his- but unlike the few kisses he’s entertained in his life, this one was driven more by the sanity - or rather, insanity - of love and desire, as he helplessly watches himself be given into the sinful ways of Lucifer or Satan or Hell, as Andres tries to deepen their immoral kiss.

And there was something inside of him- like a rose finally blooming after a torrent of rain showers and gloomy weather, following the sun and its rays wherever it goes. It was a fire in the fireplace, reigniting and warming the deepest and coldest abyss inside of him. He feels as though he was being kissed by God himself, in the most naked of aspects and ways.

He widens his eyes in the kiss (why is he still kissing him?), finally realising what the feeling he is feeling inside, especially when Andres’ hand roams around his back, soothing him along the way.

He likes - no, loves - the feeling of Andres kissing him.

Like lightning shaping up the entire storm so thunder can walk and rumble freely, he takes out the dagger he’s been wanting to use since this entire thing started; he now has the excuse to actually kill Andres, as he was partaking in a wicked activity- something against God.

(I thought you were better than this.)

With a swift raise of his hand holding the dagger, he brings it towards Andres’ stomach- he feels the (warm, soft, and comforting) lips part away from him, choking like he was dying from some sort of disease (which he was, kissing someone of the same gender- he should be thankful Philip had murdered him before giving him away to conversion), the hands that had held Philip in place go limp and slack; his eyes which were full of a blazing fire is turning dull.

To think that he was so full of strength and determination when he had done such an immoral thing (he knows Philip knows that the Bible forbids this), only to be turned to a shallow husk of his former self after just a mortal wound to the stomach.

And then he’s dead- just another body in an ocean - world - full of one; each with a story to tell but they do not have the life nor mortality to tell their tales; thus, they are lost to a world where only the dead can go.

Philip then realised he had an audience- who were all either eager or grimacing at the concept of the Father of Revolution dying. They were staring at the body- perhaps in a new perspective: a perspective where Andres truly isn’t a god or divine being.

Philip shrugs- he was shocked as well, but he decides it was up to him to defuse the rather awkward and revealing situation they’ve just bore witness to.

“He was a horrible kisser.”

(He was an impressive kisser.)

That night - and the nights after that - he dreamt of the shores of the beach; but instead of giving off the familiar and relieving light the sun had given him the past hundreds of years, the entire sky was grey- as if the sun had somehow vanished from the sky, seemingly devoured by the ash-coloured clouds. Even the waves were still, its colours dull and with hints of grey like the night’s sky.

The sand seemed to be grey from underneath the clouds, like it was a mirror to see what was happening in the skies.

For the first time in his life, Philip can finally feel what it is like to be lonely.

#mine #writing #long time no one-shot #countryhumans #countryhumans philippines #countryhumans katipunan #countryhumans spain #countryhumans spanish empire #i'm regretting this now #modern au where phil and andres live happily WHEN-

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the-darklings · 6 years

Text

earth is warmer when you laugh [6];

pairing: connor x reader

chapter summary: “You’re not my Connor.”

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: Boy do I feel like I’ve come a long way. I published Part 1 about two months ago, but life has changed so much since then. I turned another year older, my family purchased our forever home, and I have all of you wonderful readers with me now. I love you all so much! You honestly have no idea how much your support has helped me through some tough times. This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast who created some incredible fanart (and composed a song) for the previous chapter and this story in general. Also to @gilly-jilly for being amazing and writing their own version of the “reunion”. Hope mine doesn’t disappoint. Enjoy!

— — —

“You’ve reached Steph! You know what to do after the beep!”

You hesitated for a long moment, a heavy weight sitting on your chest, “S-Steph? Please... I need you. I-I need my friend. Please Steph, please...”

You tried to say more but before you could, a loud beep cut you off, freezing the words in your mouth. The phone between your fingers felt so heavy, you allowed it to slide from your numb hand and onto the floor noisily.

Steph had teased you about it. Using an old, outdated phone when communication was so easy nowadays. You wondered what she would say now —if she still saw you using it—wondered if she would tease you again or if she would be angry like she was the last time you saw her.

“How much does it hurt (Name)?” the memory of her furious face, and bitter words pierced you. “How much does it hurt? Not enough, never enough. It will never be enough.”

You curled into yourself, pressing your forehead harshly against your knees. Your apartment felt cold, hollow almost, but you couldn't find the strength to stand and move. Couldn't even find the will to go and wash your hands.

It felt too final. Like if you washed whatever traces of Connor that still lingered on your skin, your friend would truly be lost forever.

Friend, friend, friend.

Steph, Connor.

Some hateful voice deep inside of you almost sang with glee.

You’re very good at losing those, aren’t you?

— — — —

“Are you well Miss (Name)?”

Those words were spoken in the usual, unchanging monotone, but the subtle weight behind them made you freeze. Your tired, weary gaze looked towards Bob who was sitting behind the reception desk, face the customary blank canvas as he stared at you unblinkingly. His LED was still and unmoving, and there was nothing on his face that would suggest he was affected by your appearance, but you still couldn't force any words out.

You were so used to telling people you were fine, and good, thank you for asking so much better now. But this was different. There was no judgement, or anger, or pity in Bob’s eyes, just a subtle sort of slant in his silent regard. Your grip on the counter tightened and for a long moment, you couldn't think at all.

The station was quiet this early in the morning, and you noticed the night-shift officers still prowling the peaceful hallways. Truthfully, you could tell Bob everything if you wanted to. No one would be able to hear you, and it would be so much easier to pour your heart out to a kind, unjudging face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you muttered weakly instead, the words sliding down your throat like acid; harsh and stinging.

Bob stared blankly at you, his head slightly tilted to one side. The gesture stung so deeply, you immediately looked away. Because even though it was so very different in execution, it reminded you too much of Connor.

Blue blood.

Dead eyes.

“How much does it hurt (Name)?”

“Not enough,” you whispered, and felt the punishing truth of those words settle in your heart.

“Miss (Name), if I may, I have over a hundred comfort principles installed in my program,” Bob spoke suddenly, breaking your reverie with his bland words. “You may use them any time you need.”

A smile—weak and off-kilter—tugged your lips upwards, and you rubbed the heel of your palm over your sore eyes for a moment. You felt the sting of friction and ignored it, taking a moment to look at Bob’s face as he examined you in return.

“Thank you, Bob,” you finally replied weakly, even though his words made you want to cry. Except, of course, you didn’t think you were capable of shedding any more tears after yesterday. “I will keep your offer in mind.”

The android did not reply, simply inclining his head marginally in your direction as if accepting your words. Your bleak smile quivered for a moment but you caught yourself before your emotions overwhelmed you again, and moved away from the desk with hurry.

You gave the android a cursory wave, not trusting your voice to provide an adequate farewell. Gripping your bag harshly between your fingers, you walked hastily further into the station, ignoring few startled looks that were sent your way by fellow officers.

They knew, or have already heard about what happened last night.

You didn’t want them to look at you, to judge you for mourning a friend. You wanted to hide away somewhere where you knew you would be safe from prying eyes.

The thought hit you so suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks.

There was only one such place.

— — — —

One, two, three...pause...one, two, three…

The click of the empty gun hit your ears twice before you finally lowered it in frustration. The paper target before you looked torn and ruined as you harshly tugged the headphones off your head. The holes were littered all over the large space, most missing important targets like heart or head.

(“You’re a good shot, for a human—”)

“Stop,” you hissed angrily, practically ripping the empty clip out, your fingers shaking. A heavy, poignant weight sat in your heart as you breathed deeply, biting your lip in mute despair. That invisible weight scratched its way across your very soul, biting and tearing; practically burning you from inside out. You had known this pain once before—only once—and you weren't sure if you could bear to feel it again.

Not again, not so soon.

Lifting your hand again, you turned your wrist marginally to one side, gritting your teeth together in concentration.

You were strong.

You were a highly trained individual who had a job to do.

Pain, like all things, would come to pass eventually. You knew that.

And you had your life to get on with.

Bang.

The shot hit with terrible accuracy, piercing right through the middle of the target. You stared at the bulls-eye with a mix of anger and sadness in your heart. It was like you could feel Connor beside you; a soothing, calm presence that had stood by your side when he showed you the correct technique in the first place.

“It’s good to see you applying my suggestions to your technique (Name),” his smooth voice remarked from behind you and you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes as your arm lowered. “If you like, I could show you a few more tactics when we have free time.”

“Why would you be so cruel?” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

“(Name)?”

You shook your head, “It’s never enough. I know that. No matter how much it hurts, it’s not enough. But not you, please not you too.”

You felt a weight settle against your shoulder; steady and cautious, so very gentle too, as if there was some unspoken fear of hurting you. “(Name)?”

You jerked away from the cooler touch, your eyes flying open at the insistent, cautious tone. Turning around in trepidation, you felt your breath halt in your lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter as you stared at Connor’s face.

He was the same as you remembered him—a distant, divine star that made you envious of the night sky for having him.

The familiar dip of his chin, the curve of his mouth and the richness of his eyes as they looked at you unfathomably with something. Perhaps worry, perhaps relief, or perhaps you were simply hallucinating what you so fiercely desired to see.

“You’re not real,” you breathed falteringly, your words rigid and throat dry. “You’re not real. I saw you d-die. You died. I held you—I—”

A firm hand landed on your shoulder again—his hand; real, solid, alive—and you almost felt the bones in your shoulder cave in, and your skin blister as his brows drew together. It was a tight, confused line that made his expression appear more severe, near unforgiving if it wasn’t for the gentleness of his touch.

“(Name), your vitals are worryingly high,” he spoke formally, steadying you as you tried to jerk away. “If you do not regulate your breathing in the next 30 seconds, you will experience a panic attack. Breathe, (Name), breathe,” he added, a little softer but still with enough command in his voice that you couldn't help but obey.

Your lungs ached but mouthful by mouthful, you forced more air into them. The pressure building against your temple eased, and you didn’t realise how close you and Connor were standing till your shaking fingers reached forward to brush against his forearm hesitantly.

“I must apologise, I sought you and Lieutenant out the moment I arrived,” Connor explained, voice quiet and smooth as if terrified of scaring you away. “I thought that it would be better if I explained the situation myself. My replacement was dispatched the moment—”

Your arms wrapped around him so fiercely, you felt Connor lean back slightly from the impact of your bodies colliding.

And it was the sensation. The feeling of the solid, warm mass of him, the scratch of his jacket against your cheek that woke you up, made you bleed with the realisation that—

“You’re alive.”

Connor was still for a long moment, a stiffness to his entire frame that would have made the contact between you awkward under different circumstances. But your arms were around him in an unbreakable grip as you pressed yourself so tightly against him, it almost hurt. “I do believe another apology is in order (Name). I did not realise that the demise of my predecessor would cause you such distress.”

Breathing deeply through your parted lips, you almost jumped when you felt a hand settle tentatively on your lower back. Awkward, unsure.

“You’re alive,” you murmured vacantly again, your hands still trembling.

Connor shifted ever so slightly, “(Name), you know better than that. I am not, in fact, alive. I’m simply—”

“Alive,” you cut in, harshly, shakily. “You’re here, and you’re alive.”

The hand on your lower back tensed against your skin briefly before you felt him shift again, his words brushing against the top of your head as he leaned down.

“Yes, (Name), I’m here. I’m here.”

— — — —

“So...how does it work?”

A busy cafe was probably not the best place for this type of conversation, but it was the closest you could find near the station. It supposedly served some pretty good coffee too.

You hadn’t realised that it was almost lunchtime until Connor led you out from the target range, scanning your identity card against the electronic reader. It was impossible to not glance at him every few seconds. Impossible not to feel the exhilaration each time you saw him, and it hit you again that he was truly and wholly alive.

Real.

Connor, in turn, was quiet, almost perturbed as he gazed thoughtfully out of the window. His indicator was a peaceful blue but there was an underlying tension on his face when he finally turned to you.

“What happened with the deviant yesterday was both unexpected and unpleasant,” he began stiffly, hands clasped together, and you felt uncomfortable with the stringent way he addressed you. Like a stranger. “When a Connor model is destroyed, CyberLife dispatches a new one to take its place. I understand that it must be an unpleasant thought for you, but I hope that it will not hinder our work together.”

You swallowed feebly, breaking your gaze as you glanced outside, and towards the busy street, “So you’re not my Connor,” you voiced softly, resignedly, the happiness in your chest fading just a little.

A replacement, and nothing more.

Replaced like one might replace a broken toy.

He was not the Connor who showed you his coin tricks, Connor who spent long nights sorting through endless case files with you, the one who made you laugh on daily basis and saved your life.

Not your friend.

Just a—

“I didn’t forget you,” he said, his words catching your attention as your gaze turned back to him. “When my predecessor was destroyed, it uploaded its memory. For me...it feels like I’ve simply been asleep, but everything we’ve been through together still happened (Name). I did not, however, foresee you caring so much that it would have a negative impact on your wellbeing.”

“Of course I care,” you snapped grimly, your breath hitching. “You—You’re my friend Connor. Of course, I care.”

Connor’s expression smoothed; the furrow of his brows easing and it was almost comical to see gentleness bleed back into his expression as he shifted unsurely, looking almost taken aback by your words.

A flare of amber against his temple, and he frowned slightly. “Oh. I see,” was his soft, hushed reply. “Had I known you regarded our relation as such, I would have updated my social protocols to reflect it. Last entry is marked as ‘partners’ I believe.”

A weak, relieved laugh escaped your parted lips, and it felt good to feel that amber of joy nested against your heart again. “You really haven’t changed, huh? You’re still you. Still Connor.”

He was looking at you again. Looking with that subtle, probing look that stripped you of your armour, stripped you of any defensive shield you could throw up. It was so unnerving to feel yourself being emptied piece by piece.

For a being that kept insisting he was not human, Connor was surprisingly good at decoding them.

“You’re unwell.”

Blinking, you forced a strangled laugh, patting your cheek lightly, “Wow, tell me what you really think Connor. I didn’t exactly sleep well last night,” you informed him with a worn smile.

But he didn’t smile, didn’t so much as blink as he peered at you severely. “I did not mean physically unwell, although your blood sugar levels are below the advisable threshold. I mean that you are unwell...inside...and I’m afraid I do not know how to proceed since I know nothing of such matters. But as your friend, I have an obligation to try and help.”

“A good friend makes you feel like they see right into you, and even though they find all the bad bits, they still love you for you. Just like us!”

Steph.

There was warmth inside you that brimmed the longer you looked at Connor’s inquisitive eyes.

“Don’t ever change Connor,” you said finally with a genuine twitch of your lips, and Connor’s head lowered in confusion from the ambiguity of your words. “I know it’s probably your programming making you say this or whatever, but...just never change, okay?”

“Change...is against my programming (Name).”

A long beat of quiet followed his words as you regarded each other tersely.

“Wait, I just realised,” you spoke up suddenly, breaking the peaceful quiet as you leaned towards him suddenly. Connor froze, blinking from the quickness of the motion but did not otherwise react. “If there’s more of you out there...does that mean CyberLife just has a room full of Connors stashed away somewhere?”

“While I have not seen this type of space myself,” Connor replied evenly. “I can only assume that something of similar effect is in place, yes.”

There was a stretch of silence between you again, the lively cafe setting filling the stillness in-between as you tried to find the best way to phrase your next question.

“Does that make you sad? I know you say you’re a machine that feels nothing but—”

Connor’s eyes narrowed; first, in confusion, then realisation as his lips moved into a taut line. “Why would that make me sad (Name)? I hold no attachment to my bodies. I am merely a tool to be used as CyberLife deems fit.”

You smiled painfully at him. “Because it breaks my heart when I think about my friend being used like that.”

Connor pushed back sharply, and you jumped at the forceful way his back met the seat behind him. For a brief, terrifying second there was such bright red burning through his indicator you felt your eyes widen in shock, but it was gone in a blink. The wild burn in his eyes settled like a sea after a storm, and then he was at ease again. Calm.

“Con?”

Worry seeped into the careful way you said his name, and his answering impassiveness was almost unsettling.

“We should return to the station (Name), Lieutenant is unlikely to be pleased if we’re late,” he stated calmly, rising from the booth first. He reached forward, offering his arm, “Shall we?”

You rose from your seat without taking his hand, your gaze searching as you gazed up at him with concern. Connor’s head dipped slenderly, and you vaguely wondered if he realised how graceful he sometimes was for a cold, unfeeling machine. He moved first, turning away as he stepped towards the door, and your hand jerked forward on instinct.

Don’t let him walk away from you.

Your fingers gripped the back of his jacket rigidly, stopping him dead in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, and you were happy to stare at the back of his head when you spoke demurely, “I’m really glad you’re back Connor.”

You held on for another few seconds before you let go, your fingers hesitant as you ignored the rigid slope of his shoulders.

You brushed past him hurriedly, and didn’t let him see your crestfallen expression when he followed behind you silently.

— — — —

There was a crowd around your desk.

Stumbling to a halt, you felt Connor’s arm brush against yours as he stopped beside you as well. Officers milled around the space, all talking loudly and pointing as your eyes sought out the familiar, weathered face of Hank.

The older man looked ready to tear off heads. He stormed around, snapping at anyone who tried broaching questions.

Naturally, that was the exact moment he spotted you. His expression looked murderous as he stalked towards you briskly. Shooting Connor a withering look as he came to a stop before you, he looked over your appearance once before glaring at Connor again.

That told you everything you needed to know about how well their little reunion went.

“Where the fuck have ya’ been?”

“Uh, lunch,” you replied shortly, trying to look over his shoulder. “What is going on?”

There were footsteps behind you, and you almost cringed at the voice that registered in your ears, “You two idiots just had to get into trouble, didn’t you?”

“Gavin,” you greeted with fake cheer. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Here to fulfil your daily asshole rota?”

The man scoffed, giving you a lazy sneer, “I have no issues with you, sweetheart, besides your poor taste in company,” he said, casting a harsh glare Connor’s way who was like an unmoving statue beside you. He glared at the android darkly for a moment before glancing at you again. “You look like shit by the way.”

“Bite me, egomaniac.”

“Enough!” Hank snapped, glancing between you three. “Come along. And I hope you have some answers for me, kid.”

You obediently followed Hank as he led you towards your desk. Noticing your approach, other officers cleared a path for you before Hank stopped in front of the desk you shared with Connor.

“This was addressed to you,” Hank said, glancing at the object on your desk.

You moved towards the box and Connor was beside you immediately, expression hard as you both looked inside at the same time.

Sitting inside, bundled in a white towel was a severed android hand, soaking the fluffy material in bright blue blood.

Next to it, pinned by a familiar, sleek black arrow was a note:

FOLLOW THE TRAIL

———

an: “it’s been 84 years..” thank you so much for reading guys! sorry this wasn’t a giant 6k+ you probably expected lol but when I outlined the story (fully outlined for those of you who may not know!) this ended up being a transition chapter since we have another original case next time! Hope you guys are excited! I also hope you guys enjoyed the reunion ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

As always, I love you all more than anything (apart from Connor but heyyy..) and thank you so much for your continued support. It means the world!!

LOVELY PEOPLE I ❤️:

@katherineschild @dpslover4life-blog @ceylon-morphe286 @in-a-cupboard-under-some-stairs @ayamecrevan @snooper1 @emmygreen817 @kats2art @fandompotato24-7 @flyingfiremelon @dej-okay @saiiven @kdmpthenerd @arcana-eskallion @unknown-jpg @anseo11 @allheart36 @nomorepumpkin @melissalovesmusicyay @prancing-through-the-rain @tyraneya @tea-with-loki @londonlovinglinguist @meanwhilesmiley @marss-anonymous @significant-annoyancee @shipping-land-hlp @lunar-r-bryce @zarekii-chan @zeddlocket @bookworrm1999 @anxiousklutz @wonders-of-the-multiverse @paradox-brody-chase @fandoms4everyone @trustmeimawhalebiologist @deviantconnorarmy @sweetdayme4427 @positivity227 @trashofthelowestkind @madammarkiplier @super-flamin-hot-cheetos @a-song-of-obsession-and-insanity @generallyuglyduckling @dixie-chick @lady-songstress @binxi1031 @krazykendraisnotinsane @drastically-here @winter-orchid @guardianoftheunderratedthings @the-ordinarylady @my-dark-happy-place @awfully-tired @nightismyname @stainedbubbles @satansladydoor @arkium @squeakthemonkey @losersunitetonight @chocolattaee @assonanceambiance @levina-h @underagetigerdrinker @mynahx3 @chairokuno @pickelope @pota-kun @shadows-echoes @turnmeupside @beesinmyenvelopes @negans-angel-acerk800 @moonbri @almostelegantfire @valiantelk @zarekii-chan @urban-eagle @thecrazybluefangirl @thedetectiveinthephonebooth @violetdream13 @fangirlbitch02 @ragidi @gentledreaming @21putnamp @mynameisgabrielle @glitch-girl318 @elaneth-elf-friend @moosythemoose @omnastar365 @leeeggggsssssss @badassbeckettswan @ultra-violet-starlite @morganster0730 @connorfixinghistie @ conwhore800 @ sebatmanstan @ frodoswaggins @ team-wang-puppy @ royalbluehues @ eccentrically-expressive @ omelys-space @ a-typical-antisocial-fangirl @ belleknows @ nissistylinson @random-stupid-stuffs @feminist-violinist @ask-prototype-twins @calumstuffs @onceuponagleepottermindlock @xthefuckerysquaredx @swordsandserpents @aya-fay @itsjustahuman @sariasardonica @i-do-wat-i-want @br33zy-creations @hlesssamanta @oliolioxiclean @shadows-echoes @rk800isprettydangattractive @honeybeelily @wiltedcupidboi @simplysaying @jamieanimemachine @superanonymousreader @mr-robot-x @sherlockspie @stalecarb @teigra @drmsqnc @layinglonely @gayoats @sweet-fate @certainsoultaco @wolfmothar @avispate @nanameni @samantha-loves-anime @bithepowerofgay @whomthehellisbucky @haurchii @starrypecas @beautifulsilvermarch @rose-01 @mldivers @sujuvixxo @belleknows

#connor x reader #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #dbh rk800 x reader #dbh connor rk800 #detroit become human #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human fic #fic: eiwwyl #I MISSED THIS FIC SO MUCH AHHH #HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONNOR MY BABY BOI

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edsrich · 7 years

Text

Mixtapes (Richie/Eddie)

Summary: Both Richie and Eddie are very fond of each other and often tease each other affectionately, especially Richie to Eddie. So Bill and Stan both play cupid, which results in swapping mixtapes for eachother.

Warning(s): Bad language, 13 year olds kissing (don’t read if you think its fucking weird?? bc its not), if you think this is me sexualising these cuties-don’t bother

Richie’s Mixtape to Eddie

Eddie’s Mixtape to Richie

A/N: Look at my children in love, PLEASE I highly recc listening to either of the mixtapes that are linked above^^? They are both very 70/80′s. btw I do requests? If anyone wants to hit me up an x reader or a ship in IT 2017 (or IT in general) I’ll be glad to do so?? don’t be shy

“Awe, Eds. Look at you.” Richie cooed teasingly, pinching Eddie’s slowly flushing cheek.

Eddie quickly began swatting at Richie’s hand, his eyebrows furrowed heavily and a frown on his lips, “Don’t touch me with your rotten hands, asshole!”

Richie ignored his protests and flinched away from his swats, moving his hand to now over his shoulders and pulling the smaller boys frame into his own side, a grin on his lips. “You’re such a cutie, Eds.”

“No, No I’m fucking-”

“Both of you, shut up.” Stanley grumbles after rolling his eyes several times at the two.

Richie snapped his eyes at Stan, glaring through his coke bottle glasses, which only enhanced his eye size even more. He held Eddie closer, even with Eddie’s flushed cheeks he still squirmed lightly.

Stan sighs in relief and folds his arms as the group goes back to its usual discussion about the new random comic book of the week. Eddie couldn’t help but allow his heart to beat faster at Richie’s touch against his form, making him feel protected in his stronger grip. He couldn’t help but zone out as Richie begun to bicker that his comic book that he found was better than Stan’s.

Bill tilted his head, analysing Eddie as his eyes would flicker all over the place with his mouth gaping before closing every now and then and gulping. He knew that how he was acting wasn’t the norm for Eddie whenever Richie was like this, something was different. Not to mention that he had stopped struggling against Richie who wasn’t even holding Eddie tightly or forcing him in place.

Bill smiled a bit, as something clicked inside of his head- a plan. But he was going to need Stanley to help out.

That night, on the way home from their adventurous summer day- Bill was walking Eddie home as Stanley had taken Richie to a different route. Bill hummed a tune as he walked alongside his friend, grinning as he turned to look at him.

“So...”

Eddie looked at Bill, tilting his head, “So?”

“So, y-..you and Richie?”

“Yeah?” Eddie was confused, almost disgust in his voice- but Bill could see past the faux disgust.

“I saw how you were t-today, Eddie. Y-you were blushing.”

This again, only caused Eddie to heat up as his form became a flustered mess and he glared at Bill. “You would blush too if someone touched your arm!”

“N-no, I’d only b-blush if Bev touched my arm there.” Bill pointed out, “but in this instance, you blushed when Richie had his arm around you- as well when he pinched your cheek and called you a ‘cutie’, it’s quite obvious.”

Eddie snapped his head away, patting his fanny pack for reassurance for himself. “Whats your point?”

“My point? M=my point is that he’s flirting with you; y-you like him.”

“I don’t like him! And he isn’t flirting with me! He acts like that with everyone-”

Bill cuts Eddie off quickly, “E-Eddie, do you see him pinching any of our cheeks and calling us a ‘cutie’? He doesn’t put his arms a-around us or any of the shit he does for you, not to mention he calls you E-Eds and doesn’t have a nickname for any of us.”

“Okay Bill-”

“N-n..not to mention, he carries an extra i-inhaler around just incase you lose yours.”

Thats when Eddie’s breath hitches, feeling butterflies go crazy in his abdomen, adoration swirling and tugging at his heart strings. He could practically hear his heart in his ears loud and clear.

“He... he does?” Eddie whispers, his voice quivering a bit.

“Yeah, even though he knows that you don’t even need it anymore, because you know, gazebos and your Mom making your illness up and shit but- yeah.” Bill smiles, watching how the young boy was falling more and more in love.

Eddie then quickly holds his wrist, feeling his pulse; resulting his fingertips quivering from feelings how his heart was beating with happiness.

“Oh... I-I never knew that. He’s never told me...”

“That’s b-because you’ve never needed it, but he always has.”

Eddie bites his lip, “What a fucking, what- he’s a fucking dick.” Eddie protests, blushing bright as ever.

“Sure he is,” Bill chuckled, “But l-look, I wanna help you. I know when someone is in love when I see it.”

“How?” Eddie asked, neither denying his feelings or admitting.

“Well.. It i-involves music.”

Meanwhile, Stanley was grumbling to himself in annoyance and cursing Bill’s name for getting him into this situation with Richie Tozier. He didn’t want to do this, but Bill had promised to give him some candy as a reward if it goes well.

“So, Richie. I’m gonna make this quick as possible so I can just go home.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Richie asked with pure confusion, a single eyebrow furrowing and one raising.

“You like Eddie, Eddie likes you.” Stan started, his face full of boredom, “Can you just hurry up and tell him?”

Richie was shocked by his friend’s words at first, before smirking. “Hell yeah I like him, I tell him all the time.”

“I mean genuinely, you asshole.” Stan sighed, “Not as a joke or some shit, literally confess your fucking feelings to him or something.”

Richie rolls his eyes, not being fazed by the situation, “What makes you think I like him seriously? I’m not fucking gay-”

“It’s pretty fucking clear you like girls, after you telling us for the full day about the first time you ‘tickled your pickle’ to a random magazine that had huge boobs all over it. But you like guys too, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Stan spoke with a monotone voice, managing to not let any voice cracks slip.

Richie scoffed, “I don’t like him, he’s a friend and I like to tease him.”

“You tease him by calling him ‘cute’ and you give him a nickname, you don’t do it to anyone else. You like him, just admit it- no one is judging you.”

Richie frowned, huffing a bit and rolling his eyes. “Well, what if I did? Whats your point and where are you going with this?”

Stan smirked, patting Richie’s back forcefully, causing him to stumble forward.

“What’s your taste in music like?”

The next day, both Richie and Eddie were walking to school together in perfect unison, both of them holding a tape in their pocket that held a variety of songs that the one had imagined for the other.

Richie gulped, for once actually nervous around Eddie. What would Eddie think of him? It was a fucking mixtape, it was Richie’s music taste. Would he even like it? Would he-

“Richie, here. I want you to have this.” Eddie cut off Richie’s thoughts, holding up a tape alike to Richie’s.

Richie blinked twice, stopping in his steps. The tape was all black and what seemed to be painted on with nail polish ‘Sucks to Suck’ on top of the tape.

“I-it’s a mixtape.” Eddie mumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt flustered.

Richie stayed silent, slowly taking the tape, analysing it with soft eyes before looking up with confusion. He turned over the mix tape to see ‘to Richie’ painted with the same shade of white but in smaller writing.

“You made one too?” He spoke quietly, his head tilted to the side which caused his dark brown hair to tilt too.

“What?”

“Look...” Richie dug into his pocket and pulled out his own black tape which had a sticker on it, saying ‘Gimmie head til’ I’m dead!’ on it, with writing scribbled onto the back saying ‘to Eds’ with a cheeky smiley face, “I made one too, here.” He handed it over.

Eddie’s eyes widened, blushing a bit as he took it from the glasses wearing boy and read over it- mentally scoffing at the sticker but he was in awe of the idea that both of them had somehow made a mixtape for the other.

“You too?” Eddie whispered in shock.

“Well, yeah- but it wasn’t my idea.”

“It wasn’t mine either.”

Richie quickly smirked, rolling his eyes, “They fucking set us up.”

“Who? Bill? Because it was Bill’s idea for me-” Eddie began to ramble on.

“It was Stan’s idea for me.”

Eddie then stopped, sighing with a grin- poking his tongue in his cheek. “Fuck, that makes sense.”

Both look at each other with grins slowly spreading over their chapped lips, soon the two boys were in a fit of giggles due to the realisation of the sweet situation. Both never taking eyes off one another, blushes spreading to their ears and down their necks.

“I, I guess I’ll listen to this tonight?” Richie’s voice broke, still calming down from his fit of giggles.

“Yeah, me too... I-i uh, I picked out the songs carefully and put them in order a certain way, so..” Eddie trailed off, becoming a little ashamed incase Richie would tease him for his effort.

But Richie only felt love swell inside of him at those words, he grabbed Eddie’s hand with his free one and leant forward, bending down slightly, whilst pressing their lips together for the first time. Eddie’s eyes widened in shock, before melting and wrapping his free arm around Richie’s neck with the mixtape in his firm grip. Both merged together in sync and harmony, with their lips swelling and becoming saturated in colour. Richie wrapped his other arm around Eddie’s waist and too held his mix tape tightly as they both kissed in the middle of the street, hand in hand, with no shame at all.

Eddie sat down at his desk, placing his headphones over his head, pressing play as quickly the flood of Richie vibes swirled into his eardrums. Finally, after many aching hours at school he had time to listen to this mixtape.

I don’t want to know your name

Cause’ you don’t look the same

The way you did before

Okay, you think you got a pretty face

But the rest of you is out of place

You looked alright before...

Eddie chuckled at the familiar song, it often played in arcades that the Losers club all went too. It went under the title ‘Fox on the Run’ and it was by ‘The Sweets’.

Fox on the run!

You scream and everybody comes a running!

Take a run and hide yourself away...

Foxy on the run!

F-foxy!

Fox on the run...

And hide away!

Eddie listened to every song intensely, capturing the vibe of Richie Tozier perfectly. He had even picked out songs that they both loved and favoured. Eddie really adored Richie’s music taste and everything about it, it perfectly described him as a person and he loved that.

Soon, the last song came on. By the instrumental, Eddie recognised it to be ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ by Elvis Presley. HIs heart hammered quickly.

Wise men say,

Only fools rush in

But I, cant help, falling in love with you...

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I can’t help, falling in love with you...

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat, feeling his pulse echo throughout his system. This was not part of Richie’s vibe at all, but part of Eddie’s. Eddie loved Elvis Presley whilst Richie wasn’t a big fan of him.

But this song was magical and made for someone special, so Eddie was shocked and swooned. Very much so captivated.

Eddie Kaspbrak was falling in love with Richie Tozier.

Later that night, Richie laid down in bed with his cheap headphones, before plugging them into the mixtape and pressing the button to get the songs going.

The first song started; it was of course one of Richie’s favoured artists as well as Eddie’s. From what he knew, this was one of Eddie’s favourite songs from David Bowie, it was called Heroes and it was a truly beautiful song.

I, I will be king.

And you, you will be queen.

Though nothing, will drive them away

We can beat them, just for one day.

Oh we can be heroes!

Just for one day.

And you, you can be mean.

And I, I drink all the time.

Because we’re lovers, and that is a fact.

Yes we’re lovers, and that is that.

Though nothing, will keep us together

We could steal time, just for one day.

We could be heroes, forever and ever.

What’d you say?

Richie felt his heart pump faster and swell as the mixtape carried on, each song having Eddie’s vibe to it. But Richie could tell that they matched him in a way that made Eddie pick it for him to listen to. Everything was intentional.

After a good 50 minutes, the final song was starting to play. Yet Richie wasn’t prepared for what he was about to hear.

Hey Jude...

Don’t make it bad,

Take a sad song, then make it better.

Remember, to let her into your heart.

Then you can start to make it better.

Richie’s eyes widened as his thoughts wandered back to Eddie’s simple words. ‘I picked out the songs carefully and put them in order a certain way.’ This meant that Eddie had intentionally wanted Richie to hear this song last.

Hey Jude...

Don’t be afraid.

You were made to go out and get her.

The minute you let her under your skin

Then you begin to make it better.

Richie felt the tears prick at his waterline as this was the first time of him being emotional at a song. Eddie was the only person that knew about Richie’s home life, how he was neglected by his parents constantly and was alone. He knew that the reason why Richie was so loud and out there was because he didn’t receive the attention he deserved at home, so he wanted it from friends. He wanted to make people laugh, Eddie knew this.

Eddie’s key words lingered in his brain, as it stuck out to him that this single song revealed that Eddie’s whole mixtape was set up in a way to help Richie throughout dark times or whenever he felt alone, so he could remember that Eddie had cared enough to set up this mixtape in perfect order to make Richie stronger in that given moment.

And anytime you feel the pain,

Hey Jude, refrain

Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.

For well you know that it’s a fool,

Who plays it cool

By making his world a little colder.

Richie’s tears finally fell, making him take his glasses off to refrain any of the tears staining the lenses. Eddie had purposely picked this song as if to say that Richie was in fact his Jude, he wanted Richie to get better and hopefully have a better mindset besides his life at home.

Nah, nah nah, nah nah, nah nah, nah nah...

His breaths shook, as he held the mixtape to his chest with the headphones still placed perfectly on his head. He was thankful to have someone like Eddie who would even bother to do this, as something as simple as this with so much thought put into it only made him fall in love with the small boy even more.

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anon-luv · 6 years

Text

TOSKA -1- (ReaderXBTS)

Genre: Psyche/Mental Institution AU Romance & Angst

Pairing: ReaderXBTS(Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi)

Summary: “Will you be able to recover and move on, or will your past continue to haunt you?”

Trigger Warning: This Fic will contain explicit language and scenes. It will address controversial topics. We understand psychological illnesses vary from case to case. All contents in the following story are based on fiction. This story will not be suitable for all ages, due to the sensitive topics it will contain. Hope ya’ll enjoy :)

Word Count: 4k+

Collaboration with @riki-leigh-c

Author’s Note:

@anon-luv Hey Guys, I am so excited/nervous to post this fic. I hope you enjoy it as much as we are while writing it. You know I love feedback, so let us know what you think. Feedback, Comments, Reblogs, Likes, and mentions greatly encourage us writers. We are going to leave the final pairing as undecided until we further develop the story. Minor Grammer Mistakes. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

@riki-leigh-c : This is my first time writing a fic. Please bare with me, any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

“Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom.

White.

In most cultures, it signifies purity, comfort, holiness, cleansing, a beacon of hope.

For you, white had quite a contradictory meaning. To you, white meant prison, endless appointments, a padded room, the pages of the daily journal you never wrote on, and the shirt stained with red that laid upon his chest as the bullet sealed both of your futures. The future that had ended for him, and the one that had gotten you locked into this place.

The monotonous routine and smell of antibacterial flooded your days, causing a sense of panic. If it wasn’t for your best friends’ every other day visits, you would’ve probably collapsed of boredom.

PTSD, that is what they said it was, the hallucinations, the ones that kept you up at night. Whatever it is, it was the only way you could see him, as if he was still here beside you. You didn’t want to close your eyes, in case he disappeared. Every morning you dreaded having to leave your room, for you had to pretend you didn’t see him standing nearby or smiling at you.

It was your imagination, you knew it…. but you couldn’t deny that just seeing him was what kept you going throughout the day. Even if reality had taken him away from you, the memory of him had fooled your brain into projecting him into your everyday life.

It was 12:15……. Hoseok was late….. He was 45 minutes and 30 seconds late. What if he had forgotten to change those overused tires that you had scolded him time and time again to get changed?

Was he okay? Did he get sick? You had seen the rain falling mercilessly from your window pane.

The tapping of your fingers increasing in speed as the door opened again, but your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure once again. It had been 2 weeks. TWO long weeks in this institution and Hoseok had yet to be late. He was always early or right on time.

The sweat forming in the palm of your hands caused an uncomfortable, sticky sensation which triggered your anxiety slightly more. A loud deep laugh blasted throughout the room, causing you to jump slightly. The same young man that you had seen on several occasions was sitting in front of the same black haired girl. She was constantly talking while he just stared emotionless at the white wall in front of her. He never addressed her back, but she never gave up. His eyes suddenly flicked up to meet yours and another manic laugh exploded from his lips. His gaze moved back to the white wall and the laughter ceased almost as quickly as it began.

You glanced back up at the clock on the wall. Another 2 minutes and 17 seconds had passed. Where was he? Dark thoughts began to flutter through your mind. What if he’s had enough of you? Or what if something awful has happened to him? What if someone’s murdered him? Your breathing began to quicken, and your hands began to shake as vivid images of all the reasons why Hoseok was not there yet burned themselves into your brain, one by one. You could feel the all too familiar feeling of a full-blown panic attack start to creep its way into your chest. Breath, Y/N you thought to yourself, trying to remember the coping techniques they’d been teaching you in therapy. Gulping down air, you tried to get the attention of a warden. The sound of the door opening and closing drew your attention. Hoseok rushed in, red in the face and panting, doubled over trying to catch his breath. “Y/N” he yelled out across the room, causing more than a few heads to turn your way. He rushed over to you, already being able to see the effects of your panic attack. He put his hands on either side of your face and looked you dead in the eye. “Breath, Y/N. I’m here, I’m fine,” he whispered while using the clichè breathing technique of having you copy him. It worked though. Every time. After a few minutes, your breathing returned to normal and Hoseok patted your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, before getting up abruptly. “Y/N, I’m going to have a chat to one of the staff okay? I’ll be right back. No longer than 5 minutes, you can count them, alright?” You simply nodded in response, still slightly out of it after your latest ‘episode.

There is a rush of adrenaline when people fall, it makes them feel like their insides bundle up, and make their way towards their throat forming a perfect knot just to come back down, just before they hit the ground. That’s how you felt at that exact moment as you saw Hoseok’s familiar messy mop of dark brown hair exit the room.

The numbness within your fingertips was now fading into slight prickles that you could feel crawling up your extremities. The heaviness in your chest that had felt like a piano had crushed it a few moments ago was being lifted, only leaving in its path a soreness that had begun to dissipate. Your pounding heart still beating loudly in your ears as your eyes traveled amongst the room to analyze the number of witnesses that had obtained a front row seat on your full-blown show. Much to your surprise, everyone was focused on their own task and you had gone under the radar. You assumed people were probably immune to the many spectacles that had taken place within these four walls.

There was only one set of brown eyes staring at you, and those eyes seemed to be more amused with the sudden predicament you had found yourself in, than worried. A small smirk lay upon his plush lips as he swept your body from top to bottom absorbing all your figure in as if you were a piece of fine art, on display in a museum. A shiver ran down your spine. He made you uneasy. His sporadic, maniacal laughter sounded again as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He seemed like the true definition of insane. Just as suddenly as it started, he stopped laughing and went back to staring at you. You felt your heartbeat start to quicken and your palms getting sweaty, the telltale signs of another panic attack. Hoseok made a reappearance right at the moment you had started to feel your chest constricting and your throat getting tight.

“It’s alright (y/n), I’m so sorry I got here late, I got a flat tire on the way over” he said as he sat down on the cold metal chair and scooted his way forward, closer to you. The faint smell of his cologne calmed you down automatically.

The speed of your finger tapping decreased as you examined him from head to toe assuring yourself that he was indeed okay.

“You had me worried, I told you several times to get that thing you call a car checked Hoseok” you said as you grasped his hand “I’m sorry for taking away your lunchtime, you are honestly the only reason I am not in solitary confinement right now, this place is bonkers”.

Hoseok gave you a wide smile as he looked around the area examining the patients surrounding you “Yeah… it does seem pretty crazy huh? It is only for a bit though, Y/N.” Hoseok smiled brightly at you, a smile you always thought looked as bright as the sun, before shifting his chair to sit next to you and gently pushing your head down to rest on his shoulder. “I don’t know about that Hobi,” you sighed deeply, closing your eyes while a montage of memories filtered through your brain at the use of his nickname. You breathed in his comforting scent, already knowing he would smell just like springtime. “I don’t feel like I’m getting better.”

The silence that followed your statement thickened the air that surrounded the both of you. Hoseok looked into your eyes hoping to see the familiar twinkle of hope you used to carry around before that horrible night.

“Well, you know ...Rome wasn’t built in one night. Just promise me you will try, participate in activities and let the counselors in. Please do it for me” he said pouting cutely your way. You lifted the corner of your mouth in a slight smile, but your heart wasn’t in it when you answered. “I will.”

The dorm you had been assigned lacked personality. Just like everything else, it was white from top to bottom, with a few accents of a washed out green and mustard yellow. Whoever participated in coordinating the color scheme might’ve been color blind. Despite the general distaste you had for your room’s superficial overall look, it was the only place you felt at ease in. The rock-hard bed was unusually homey, and the fact that there were no windows gave you a sense of safety for some reason. No one would be able to sneak in through your window while you slept. Just the thought of being able to see what the outside world contained while unsupervised up-close gave a chill up your spine.

The clock in your room showed 9pm, which meant there was a long night ahead and the dosage that had been prescribed for your sleeping medication was shit. You were tired, but your eyes refused to close. You knew the night that laid ahead of you was going to be long and emotionally tiring. You sat on the edge of the bed trying to practice the exercises you had gone over with your primary psychologist, praying for them to work. The silence within your room was all consuming until you heard deep screams. The words were incomprehensible, but the volume kept rising signifying the person was getting closer and closer to your room. You stood up quickly and slammed your door shut, before peeking out the window, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“Fuck you! Take me back. That fucking bastard, how dare he fucking touch my shit.” a bleach blond man about your age screamed as two male nurses dragged him, one by the arms and the other one by the waist, towards the door opposite yours. He swung his right arm straight at the nurse’s jaw, which the nurse was barely able to dodge. He was putting up a good fight, surprisingly, for his size made you think he would be much weaker. You hid behind your door a bit more, only your eyes visible now. The man screamed more obscenities as he was thrown into the room and onto the bed, and two more nurses entered the room. They held onto his arms wrapping what seemed like cloth on his ankles and wrists. One of them was holding a visible needle, you were assuming it was some kind of medication. The man was no longer screaming, and you could see how his muscles relaxed into the comfort of his bed, and his eyes drooped. A sigh of relief escaping your lips, as you noticed the nurses had finished attaching the remaining restraints on him. You closed your eyes tightly as you walked back to your bed and covered yourself completely with the blanket, the fear of what was right across the hall getting the best of you. The dorm across the hall hailed a dangerous threat in the shape of a blond-haired man, and even though his features looked peaceful and quite charming as he lay immobile upon his bed, his vile words just now meant you knew better. You felt the first of the night's many quivers in your stomach, letting you know that the horrible memories you tried to keep buried during the day we’re about to be released.

The shadow of the past, conjured now by your broken psyche, sat on your bed staring straight at you.

“It’s not real….it’s not real…..it’s not real” you kept whispering to yourself, but your eyes couldn’t stop staring at his face as he smiled….that smile you used to love “He is not here…...he is not here…..he is not here……”

Black circles flourished under your sunken eyes the following morning. It had been a sleepless night, just as you had predicted. The constant itch of checking up on your new dorm neighbor and the hallucination of who you thought would be your forever kept your eyes wandering around your room and sleep at bay. You weren’t due for a visit from Hoseok and only had a psychologist appoint late in the afternoon. You had absolutely no idea how you were going to keep yourself occupied in between. Maybe I’ll ask the nurses for a book or two, you thought to yourself as you changed into your uniform white shirt and pants, with matching slippers. You had just opened the door to step out when you noticed a number of nurses leaving the room across from yours. His room. After the sedative had worn off, the blonde man had screamed obscenities for hours, only worsening your hallucinations. He demanded over and over for the restraints to be removed to no avail. Eventually, he just wailed, long, harrowing cries that frightened you even further. As the last of the nurses exited the room, you caught a quick glance of the blonde man sitting upright on the edge of his bed, looking down and rubbing his wrists, before the nurse shut the door and began to leave.

“Excuse me,” you called after him, shrinking back slightly as he turned to face you. You averted your gaze and asked softly “is there any possibility of getting a few books to read?”

He smiled slightly before nodding, “sure, I’ll scrounge some up and leave them by your door.”

“Thanks,” you replied before indicating for him to leave. There was no way you were walking with your back to him, despite how nice he came across. You waited, back flat against your door, for a few minutes, wanting to give yourself a safe distance from the nurse. Just as you were about head towards the common area, the door across from you flung open, revealing the blonde man. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his rosy lips were positioned in an unfriendly frown. The fear that had gathered within you from the initial shock of his presence was slightly forgotten as your curious eyes traveled along his pale sugary white face. There were noticeable red marks on his wrists that made you unconsciously rub your own.

“Good Morning” you heard a deep voice say, catching you off guard. Your fly or fight system wanted to run away as soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, but your body was betraying you by staying frozen in place. He waited patiently for a response, but after examining your panicked expression he shrugged it off, and took a step forward closer to you “Yoongi’ he said extending his hand towards you.

You looked at his hand as if it was fire ready to burn you into ashes, but for some reason, your hand found his. Your voice though was not cooperating and all you could do was stare at his figure confused at the contrasting personality that radiated from him this morning compared to that displayed last night.

“Y/N?” he asked you as he read the name plaque outside your room. You nodded as you cautiously took a step back away from him. You felt exposed, and you wanted to escape the feeling of nausea that had started stirring in your gut. The white walls around you closing in as the image in front of you started blurring around the edges. The lack of sleep starting to take a toll on you. Your breathing had become visibly more agitated, but before your knees could give out, you felt another presence standing before you. The distorted image of an unfamiliar silver-haired boy came to view as he hummed a tune and encircled your body with his own as if to block you from any unwanted feelings that had lined up to once again drag you to the deepest pits of emotional hell.

“Calm down and try to match your breathing with mine” he whispered softly with a higher pitched voice than that of the blond boy who was still standing nearby, he seemed a bit uncomfortable as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Your hands were gripping onto the boy’s shirt as if he was the anchor to your sanity. Before you knew it, the heaviness that had settled on your chest had once again faded into nothingness. You quickly stood up and pushed yourself away from the stranger embarrassed at your previous actions.

“Jimin” the silver-haired boy said quickly without any explanation before you could respond Yoongi welcomed himself to introduce you as well as himself.

“I am Yoongi and this is (Y/N), what you just did bro...thank you” Yoongi said awkwardly.

Jimin just nodded to the both of you quickly and then took off as if he was in a hurry. You looked at Yoongi once again, but before he had a chance to speak, you had already started walking off to head towards the common area, taking turns between facing forward and sneaking glances back at him to make sure he wasn’t pulling a stunt behind your back. As you made your way to the end of the hall you noticed his figure had disappeared back into his dorm. The shadow of what had happened still engraved in your mind as you walked into the common area, you just knew this won’t be the only interaction you had with your neighbor and the fear of what will come will more than likely be present throughout the entire day.

“How is your sleep Ms. Y/N” the doctor asked in a fairly monotone voice. The lack of emotion in his voice aggravating you. His presence was that of a rock, and in all honesty, consulting with a wall would probably have the same effect as this.

“To be honest like shit” you replied trying to be as monotone as he was.

“Anything we can do to aid your sleeping habits?” He said as he scribbled down what seemed more like a doodle than a note on his notepad.

“Memory Foam? Or one of those water beds. I have always wanted to try one of those.” you replied with fake enthusiasm.

The doctor took that as a queue to stare up at your figure with a serious face “Ms. Y/N, we can’t proceed with treatment without your help. It takes two to tango, so your cooperation is essential for you to improve. Now, I have registered you for some group sessions that I think will be of benefit to your case, and one of those is for patients with insomnia. That one is every night for 45 minutes, you will be learning techniques to clear your mind and be able to get some shut-eye. Also, please start writing in your journal, we find it helps patients significantly.”

You nodded no longer interested in his rant as you grabbed the paper he had placed on the table in front of you. There was a list of 3 different counseling sessions that you were expected to assist other than your 1 on 1 session. You sighed annoyed at your now crowded schedule.

The green yard in the facility premises was crowded with bodies, some familiar, and some not, ranging from various ages and genders. When you had first arrived, you had felt out of place, but as the days went on you realized you fit in strangely amongst the people that had been locked in here. You had yet to make an acquaintance, but you had already heard a few of the stories, and in all honesty, some made your past look like a fairy tale. There were a few psychos within the bunch, and the rumors that surrounded some of the people were frightening, that is why you had isolated yourself for the duration of your stay. Hoseok had been, for the most part, the only reason you had the courage to step outside of your room. You surveyed the area, making sure not to lock eyes with anyone, nurses, and patients alike. You walked slowly towards an empty seat across the yard, body tense and eyes zipping around your skull, trying to keep an eye on everything all at once. You were monitoring the people on your left when you felt a presence to your right. You stopped dead in your tracks before whipping around, bringing your hands up to your face to defend yourself against whoever had dared to get too close. The first thing you heard was manic laughter, before noticing a semi-familiar pair of brown eyes, creased at the corners, staring back at you. You just about jumped out of your skin in an effort to put some space between the laughter and yourself. You could feel your chest constricting and your breathing getting shallow. Please, not here. Not in front of all these people, you thought to yourself. You already knew it wouldn’t help. Just as quickly as the laughter started, it was over and the patient behind the laughter was sticking his hand out to introduce himself. Before he had a chance to say anything, Jimin came running over, shoving the laugher out of the way. “Taehyungie, what did I say?” He all but shouted at the guy.

The flourish of activity going on in front of you was causing your panic attack to worsen. Your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat and your throat had begun to feel like it was closing. “Y/N, it’s okay just breath with me again, shhhh,” Jimin said as he grabbed a hold of both of your hands and looked you dead in the eye.

He worked through the same breathing technique that he had done earlier, and you soon began to feel calm.

“Thank you,” you said softly, quickly letting go of his hands and dropping your gaze to the lush green grass you all stood on.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sorry about Taehyung,” he said as he looked down at him, still laying on the grass. He leaned down and offered a hand to Taehyung, pulling him quickly to his feet.

“Taehyung, introduce yourself the way we talked about please,” Jimin looked expectantly at Taehyung, who inclined his head bashfully.

“Hello Y/N,” Taehyung said, dropping his voice significantly in what you can only assume was an effort to keep you calm. “My name is Taehyung.”

“Hello,” you replied, bowing slightly but still not lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Manic laughter suddenly exploded from Taehyung’s lips, causing you to let out a scream of both shock and fear. You clamped your mouth, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart and took off running towards the spare seat you had originally been trying to get to.

You took a cautious glance towards where Jimin and Taehyung were still standing, clearly not expecting your escapade. Jimin raised his hand to smack Taehyung in a playful manner behind his head. Taehyung in exchange just hung his head looking a bit disappointed in himself. You averted your eyes before they caught you looking at them, hoping it would give them a clear sign that you were not fond of strange company.

You rubbed your hands against your knees nervously as you inspected your surroundings, hoping that the loud rapid beating in your ears would eventually quiet into nothingness. You took a deep breath as your eyes landed on a red rose bush. Memories of late nights hiding in your neighbor’s yards as you laid upon his chest caused your eyes to tear up. You looked at the figure that sat beside you, a perfect figment of what had been, staring right back at you.

“Jin” you whispered softly as your eyes devoured his familiar features. A pang of pain surging from the last memories you had beside him. His plump lips smiling at you like they had many times before, the temptation of leaning in to feel their warmth taking over, but before the contact was made a voice interrupted you.

“Um…..are you okay?” said a deep familiar voice, snapping you out of the enchantment of your imagination.

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