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shydragonrider · 3 years

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Torn - Part two

Warnings: Detailed death threat, swearing, name calling, vomit, extremely violent whump, vivisection, smug whumpee breaking, infection, graphic infection, fever, delirium, panic, scared whumpee, sick whumpee, begging, crying, restraints, panic attack, wound cleaning, needles, tylenol, scared of revenge.

Part one Here

Taglist: @equestrianwritingsstuff, @whumpwillow

Updated: Their names

Pandora bit her lip, and carefully tied Strife’s wrists to the bedframe. He whimpered, squirming feebly.

“Ssssshhhh, sssshhh. I just need to clean this up, okay? I’m trying to help.”

Strife just shuddered, weakly pleading for any kind of mercy.

“Ssssshhhh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Pandora murmured, hoping that her choice of words would help comfort her former nemesis.

She carefully cut the poor excuse of stitches, and began to clean the pus out of the wound. Strife cried, tears leaking down his face as he struggled weakly.

“Easy. I know, I know.” Pandora soothed, gently stroking his sweaty hair back.

“Nnghh. Plea-ple-please…” He sobbed. “D-don’t c-cut me open a-again.”

Pandora’s heart snapped in two at the words.

“No, no, sweetheart. I wouldn’t do that. I promise.” I mean, I cut the stitches, but only to fix them.

But Strife didn’t seem to hear her.

It took her over an hour to clean the wound, and another two to properly stitch it. When that was done, Pandora untied his wrists, and selected her strongest antibiotic. Preparing an IV bag was the easiest thing she’d done so far.

Pandora attached the needle to the crook of the Strife’s elbow, and carefully took his jaw in her hand, opening his mouth, and sticking a thermometer under his tongue.

When it finally beeped, and she saw the reading, her heart lurched.

104.5°

“Fuck.” Pandora breathed, rushing into the bathroom.

She returned with a damp washcloth, and a glass of water, and two Tylenol tablets, which she crushed up and mixed with the water. She needed to get the fever down as soon as possible.

*******

Damian whimpered as something pressed against his bottom lip.

Please. He tried to beg. Please don’t.

But now his voice was failing him too, and all he could manage was a distressed whine.

“I know, sweetheart.” A distant-sounding voice told him softly. “But I need you to drink this.”

With a defeated whimper, Damian sipped weakly at the contents of the glass, shivering all over.

Something cool and damp touched his forehead, and he cringed away.

“Please.” He managed to choke out.

“Hush now, it’s alright.” The distant voice said softly.

No. Please. No more.

But when he tried to voice this, only a raspy groan escaped his cracked lips. Yet despite his terror, he was unable to struggle anymore. With a frightened sob, he sank back into darkness.

************

Pandora watched as Strife went limp. If not for his ragged breathing, she would have thought he was dead.

She sat beside him, unsure of what more to do. She’d never imagined him so vulnerable… so broken.

He moaned softly, and Pandora grimaced at the sound. It was so full of pain and fear.

Carefully, she took his hand, hoping it could provide some kind of comfort. He shuddered, lips parting as he huffed out uneven breaths.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, rubbing her thumb in circles over the back of his hand. “I never thought that this would happen.”

She felt sick, this was partly her fault. She’d defeated him. Turned him over to the authorities…

And this was the result.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered again.

********

Pandora felt sure that this was the longest, and hardest night of her life. Trying to care for someone as horribly injured and sick as Strife was, all alone, was a nearly impossible task in itself. But Pandora was also battling her own guilt… and beneath that, fear.

‘I’ll break you, body and spirit. And then I’ll fucking strangle you.’ His words echoed in her mind, chilling her to the core.

And if he survives, I’m sure he’ll make me suffer the way he has before he chokes the life out of me.

But she couldn’t let him die because of his wounds.

The one you’ll likely endure before he kills you, you mean. The realistic part of her brain whispered. I hope you still think saving his life was worth it when you die looking into his eyes.

Pandora shivered. He’d nearly killed her before, he’d left multiple scars on her body with his blades, he’d vowed to throttle her… And his reason to do so had only gotten more powerful.

I don’t want to die. She thought to herself. I’m 21 years old.

Despite her fear, Hero did not leave Strife’s side, because she could never live with the guilt if she let him die.

It was three long, miserable days before he woke up enough to recognize her, and when that happened, he did the last thing Pandora was expecting.

*******

Damian blearily cracked his eyes open, his abdomen still searing with pain. His surroundings were different. This wasn’t the isolation ward.

This was… a bedroom?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and turned to see a young woman.

Even without her mask, he knew, by the unmistakable violet eyes, that this was Glory.

Damian panicked, thrashing around as hard as his weakened body could manage.

“Don’t hurt me!” He wailed. “Please- you can’t- I don’t-”

“Strife.” Glory said, looking more surprised than angry. She took a step closer, and he shrieked in terror.

“No! I-I’ll never hurt anyone again! I promise! Please, I promise!”

A sudden shock of pain flared through his stomach, so bright and hot that he almost vomited. Terrified, he looked down at himself, and saw the blossoming bloodstain across the white bandages on his stomach.

All at once, his panic induced strength left him, and he collapsed back to the bed with a pathetic whine.

“Shit.” Glory breathed, kneeling beside him.

Damian whimpered, trying to curl away from her.

She carefully began to unwind the bandages.

“No… no please.” Damian stammered, and broke into tears.

Glory drew back for a moment, looking shocked.

“No.” She said softly. “No, ssshhhh, you’re okay.”

“Please.” He whined, blubbering as he saw the gaping cut where some of the stitches had torn.

“Ssssshhhh.” Glory said gently, easing his head back to the pillow. “Don’t look at that.”

Damian sobbed as he felt her fingers gently brush at the edges of the wound.

“Easy. I’m going to get a towel to stop the bleeding.” Glory told him, and stood up.

The minute she was out of sight, Damian tried to get up. He had to escape, he couldn’t take the agony anymore.

The minute he stumbled to his feet, the room spun, and he collapsed to the floor with a cry of pain.

Glory was at his side in an instant.

“Don’t. Please. No more.” Damian whimpered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll never do it again. I promise. Please. Please! I promise. I’m sorry.”

*************

Pandora gently reached out to the hysterical supervillain, grimacing at the hitching sobs that rattled his chest.

“It’s okay.” She said softly, laying her hand on his shoulder. He tensed with a blubbering sound. Her heart ached.

“Oh sweetheart, no. I’m not here to hurt you. I just need to fix the wound. You’re bleeding quite badly.”

And you’re still burning up. Her mind added, as she noticed the head radiating off his skin.

Strife shook his head, trying to regain his feet, only to collapse directly into Hero’s arms.

She gently hauled him back into the bed, and was about to try and tape his wound, only for him to cower away from her, squeaking pathetically. Pandora sighed, Strife was obviously in no state to see reason, and he desperately needed help.

So, she sat on his legs, effectively pinning him down, and began to treat the re-opened portion of the wound, doing her best to block out his sobbing pleas for mercy.

************

Damian had drained every ounce of strength he had with his struggling. As Glory began to tape his injury, all he could do was beg for mercy.

“Hush, sweetheart.” She said softly. “I’m trying to fix this.”

Why is she calling me sweetheart?

Darkness was threatening to swallow him, and all he could do was stammer out a final plea not to be hurt anymore, before he drifted into unconsciousness.

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unholyhelbig · 5 years

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Knock, Three Times

A/N: Okay, so you guys know that horror is kinda my element. Which makes me sad that I missed out on the first day. I did actually write something but didn’t like it- so I might post it later!

Fic Title: Knock, Three Times.

AO3 Link

Day #2: Accidentally Summoning a Demon

The hospital’s corridors were bleach white. There was no color to the hallways or even the rooms. Just an undeniable white that countered the fluorescent lights with a brightness of their own. Walls were devoid of posters telling patients to keep their heads up and instead were replaced with chain-locked doors. Deadbolted and impossible to move.

Beca Mitchell chose not to look at those doors, the numbers painted in black and chipping away to reveal even more white. She could still tell that they counted up in even numbers. A little window carved out of each metal slab to give the patient, the prisoner, a better view of the world. Which just happened to be a blank nothingness.

“Don’t’ feel bad for them.” The guard walking with her snapped her from her haze. One of those women who had probably gone straight from the military into a psychiatric hospital. She wasn’t like the nurses dressed in a sunny yellow. She had a gun attached to her belt and her features were stoic with knowledge. “They made choices that threw them in here, just like you made the choice to visit your friend. Most of them are killers and crooks just trying to seem insane.”

“Do you ever believe them?” Beca took to asking instead of denying what the woman had said.

“You can’t believe anything other than what’s in front of you in my line of work, honey.”

Beca decided to leave it at that. It was a cynical way to look at the world, but she understood. Women who drowned their own kids, and men who had purposely driven a van through a campground without stopping. All claiming insanity and sticking to the guilty plea. She didn’t strive to make eye contact with any of them, caged and desperate for an ounce of human contact.

They walked a few more feet before a long stretch of windows let in some natural light. It soothed Beca, seeing the stretch of barbed wire and chain link fence wasn’t the same as a beach view, but it told of a world further from this one.

The guard fumbled with the keys on her belt before pulling one covered with masking tape to the front. Room 113 was written in sharpie sloppily. “Right, well, I will be right outside of this door. You feel uncomfortable, or in danger at all, then you just pound on the wall three times and I’ll pull you out. Handle her.”

“What will you do?” Beca’s voice was tight, scanning over the baton she had on her leather belt, and then back to the gun that was a few inches away. “I mean, you won’t hurt her, will you?”

“Relax, sweetie, It’s a sedative.”

Beca didn’t’ know if that soothed her nerves at all but she again let the words hang in the stale air. She had the nervous instinct to play with her keys that she usually kept in her jacket pocket, but they had stripped her of the whole coat. Took her belt, and her shoelaces too. The tongues of her shoes flopped as they walked to their destination.

The metal door creaked open and the hinges groaned in exhaustion. She was hit with the instant scent of rot, not so much as fruit that had succumbed to the elements- more like an old library that was filled with leather-bound books, pages disintegrating the second gloveless fingers touched the print.

Her room was bigger than Beca would have guessed, not large, but more than a classic jail cell. It was white too, but some letters were tacked to the walls and a small window rested on the far wall, barred and then barred again. There was a metal desk and a bookshelf that was occupied to its capacity. They had started to pile on the floor next to the raised cot that had a folded blanket and one bare pillow.

Beca jumped when the door slammed behind her. The girl who was huddled up on the windowsill didn’t so much as look up from the novel in her grasp. Pale and slimmer than she remembers- Emily Junk looked dwarfed in the grey sweatpants and stained white t-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her features were shadowed by the outside light. Maybe it was a better view than the barbed wire on the other side.

“They didn’t’ tell me you were coming.” She finally said after a long bout of silence. “I would have tidied up a little bit.”

Beca scanned the girl with wide eyes, those greenish-brown ones finally finding hers with an uncharacteristically simple smile. Too simple for the girl that was trapped in a mandated insane asylum, though, she had read somewhere that they weren’t supposed to call it that anymore. Something about rehabilitation. She had a feeling that Emily was never going to find her way back into society.

“Lighten up a little, it was a joke. It’s okay to laugh.” She spoke again, putting the book down on the nearby desk and adjusting her position so her feet were hanging off her perch. “You look good, California has made you tan.”

“I never went. I put the album on hold for a little, until the trial-“She swallowed thickly, trying to gauge a reaction, but she never got one. “Things need to settle down at home before I make a new one.”

Beca thought she registered a look of guilt from Emily, but she was standing before the other girl was completely sure. Crossing the room to set the book down on the cot and then herself in the corner. Beca could feel the chill of the metal door on her back, almost through her t-shirt. She was pining for that jacket that they had stolen and housed in a plastic bin.

“You know, the only people who visit me in here are my lawyers. And Aubrey that one time. That was in the beginning though.”

“You killed someone, Emily, can you blame them?” A type of fire licked at her stomach. She was told not to say anything, not to bring up why Emily was in here in the first place, that it could damage her recovery process. Beca quickly clenched her jaw shut and looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t’ have to tip-toe around me, Beca.”

Emily was standing again, directly across from her in the small expanse of blank space not occupied by an item of furniture. Her hands were slack in the pockets of her sweatpants. “What’d they tell you, that I’m liable to snap? To forget everything they’re trying to do to me? Not likely. You can’t erase something like that, no matter how pokey they get with their sticks.”

Beca’s eyes hardened “Why’d you do it, then? Because I’m not buying this whole demon excuse.”

It had all been so fast, raining the night that Beca got the call from Aubrey. Aubrey who had found Emily covered in black syrup in the center of a salt drawn circle. She had panicked, thought it was the younger girl's blood. That’s when she found the neighbor in the bathtub, draining slowly and meticulously. Beca never questioned the design the salt was in or the book that was opened beside her to a blank page. None of it made sense.

“You of all people should be the most willing to accept that as an excuse.” She lifted a brow. “After all, Beca you were the one that told us to stay out of the basement. Said it was haunted. I thought it was just a prank on the new girl- a hazing of sorts.”

Beca’s jaw clenched as she watched the girl meander back over to the desk with hard eyes. She ran her fingers over the dusty surface until they reached the spine of the book. Emily’s stare was filled with longing.

“What exactly were you doing down there all those years?” Emily glanced back up, stray hair falling into her eyes. “raising the dead was my first guess. But then I found that book of yours. It was naive to leave it out in the open like that. Though- I must admit, it was a bit of a challenge to translate all that Latin.”

She was still for a moment, who body rigid as if it were frozen in place. Emily wasn’t as washed as she had thought. It was a simple clean up, hide the book and she looked like nothing more than a girl in the middle of a salt circle covered in someone else’s blood.

Beca let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. What do you want, then?”

Emily looked taken aback by the question. What did she want? Beca was hoping deep down inside that the weight of something like that would puzzle her- the start of a smirk crept against her upper lip. It was unfortunate Beca thought, that someone as sweet as Emily had stumbled upon her book and had read from the darkest page of them all. A cruel trick. Beca almost felt sorry for her in the aspect.

“you’re going to get me out of here,” Emily said.

“Now, I think that’s asking a little too much, don’t you? I mean, you sealed the deal the second you opened your mouth about demons and some ancient spell to summon them. It’s called a secret art for a reason, Em.”

“I’ll tell them about you,” Her voice was flooded with panic. That was another mistake Emily made, confusing hope with the reality of one of her storybooks. “Your book, and your sacrifices, and your… your magic.”

“And who exactly will believe you?”

Beca could smell the bubblegum medicine that they made Emily swallow twice, maybe three times, a day. She was that close. Could see the paleness in her skin and the timid flow in her stance. She had bruises from IV”s in her hand and equally as dark ones around her wrists from straps Beca had failed to notice before.

“Emily, you know how much I adore you and your naive nature, but it’s just that, isn’t it? You say anything about me and they’ll just up your dosages. I think you got confused by my visit here. But if you stick to the program, maybe they’ll let you out one day.” Beca took an even step back. “I’ll keep visiting you, don’t worry.”

She swallowed thickly and tucked her arms closer to her body. Beca couldn’t tell if it was anger or something more. Stirring in her usually placid nature. “Can you at least stop the nightmares?” She asked.

Beca lilted her head with a dark smile and banged on the wall three times.

#hw192 #Pitch perfect Horror week #Beca Mitchell #Emily Junk #bemily #bemily fanfiction #spooky

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moonlit-nightingale · 4 years

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.:RP:. Cursed

Warning(s): Trigger warnings for suicide and blood.

Characters: Saranqerel ‘Sari’ Qalli (male Xaela), Akio Obinata (male Xaela), Botan Kurenai (female Raen)

Origin Date: 22 Feb 20

“Death is easy. To live is the most painful thing I could imagine and I’m weak and no longer willing to fight.” —Hannah Wright

Everything is in place. Sari has left his farewell letters and wrapped up his affairs. And so he goes to depart in the quietest way. Though a new friend picks up the signs too late...perhaps the Qalli’s story isn’t over yet.

(Note: This is from an RP session. So there is a back and forth of writers. A - in between paragraphs indicate a change in narrator.)

< Hingan >

> Xaelic <

----

A letter and small box would have been left outside Akio's room a sennight after his and Sari's last talk. Enclosed within the envelope are two documents. One is a letter, one is an official document endorsed by a Gridanian embassy, complete with a corn-yellow seal. It states that Akio is, legally, Enqtani’s legal guardian. There is also a small box like those used to sell the tokens at the charm counter.

My friend,

I know we haven’t known each other long so please forgive my selfish requests especially after I’ve placed such a burden on your shoulders. Enqtani is loved by many at the temple, however I haven’t seen her attach to anyone as closely as you. It has been a short time but a child just knows. The sealed document is official documentation that you are now Tani’s guardian. It may just be a piece of paper but with it I’m trusting you to look after her best interests in my absence.

You have been kind and a wonderful friend. And I have the utmost faith that you will be a kind and wonderful father for Tani. You mentioned once that she should know her roots. There is little to tell. I found her abandoned on the Steppe during a hunt. All I can surmise is that she was a child conceived unwillingly. She has features or the Oronir tribe which were once the leaders of the Steppe and still hold themselves in high authority over others. Not all of them are bad but it is a privileged tribe. I expect you can follow my path in thinking of what may have occurred. If Tani wants to see the Steppe with her own eyes one day, seek out Khenbish of the Buduga at the town of Reunion. He is a healer and a good man. If you can’t find him, search for Yesulun of the Qestir and her mate Khaljar of the Oronir. They are among my dearest friends even if we have parted ways. Unfortunately I am unsure of their whereabouts but their names should be known in Reunion.

Ah, but I’ve rambled on. I wish to make this process as easy as possible for you. Please rely on the others if needed. Mr. Aoki is a stern man but he has looked after Tani many times when I needed assistance.

It is little payment for what I ask for you, but I hope this gift is acceptable. Thank you, Akio, and I thank you on behalf of Tani.

Winds carry you,

-S.Q.

Inside the box, carved from a reddish wood, was a crane. Its wings are spread, every feather meticulously detailed in its carving despite the small size as its long neck and head were raised high in a cry. The figure could rest on a grown man’s palm.

Akio's shift for guard duty had ended earlier than expected, that night. And though he was tired, the Eastern Xaela had been in a surprisingly good mood, that ever-present smile a little more genuine as he took long, measured strides to his quarters. A good night's rest after some meditation sounded absolutely splendid to the man.

The presence of the letter and box caused the samurai to pause, however, tail quivering just slightly in alarm as he watched it with keen black eyes. But with heightened guard, there was little worry of it being any sort of trap or bait; he kneeled, slowly, picking it all up and entering his room.

In the privacy of his quarters, he allowed the mask to slip from his face; a frown pulled at his expression as he opened the box, looking over the figure with a delicate awe, and then the letter, reading over the words swiftly.

What laced through his blood could only be described as ice-cold panic as he realized what these words meant.

A Hingan snarl dropped from his lips as he spun around on his heel, movement swift as he threw open the door and bolted down the hall towards Sari's quarters. No doubt the man would want to do it there; the clinic was far too impersonal, and even from their short time, he knew Sari would never wish to inconvenience the clinic staff or distress the patients there.

Thank the Kami he was relieved when he was- it gave him some small hope that this time he may not be too late.

But no, the room would be empty if he should knock and try to enter. The wards' rooms couldn't be locked. It was part of the temple's design. Why would a ward of this place have secrets to hide? The futon would be folded neatly in a corner and the room immaculate. Sari never really had too many personal effects and it seemed even those were gone.

The only thing left was a small bundle of letters, left for whoever may have peeked their head in.

Another swear, and he turned on his heel, heading for the clinic itself. If Sari wasn't in there... He had no idea where to look. But he wouldn't stop looking.

His rush nearly made the clinic's night time attendant eep loudly. There was something about an empty clinic in the dead of the night just just spooked this particular Auri young lady.

"Obinata-san, kami help me." She rested a hand over her chest.

Akio paused, examining the lady for a long moment; the mask was back on in an instant, though the smile was strained, showing just how much of a rush she was in.

"Have you seen Sari-san?" he asked quickly, tone leaving little room for questions.

That tone has the girl nearly eep once more. She shook her head. "Ah, I mean, he came in earlier for a few moments to tidy up and then left about a bell ago."

Tidy up? Why on earth would he need to tidy up the clinic?

"Did he say where he was going? This is- he must be found." He'd apologize to the poor girl properly later- no doubt he was an intimidating sight, agitated as he was.

"He is planning to kill himself."

She covered her mouth at those words. "Sari-san? But..." He was always so kind! And quick to help when she'd taken over the clinic duties just a sennight ago!

"I-I don't know. I thought he was going to visit a patient because he took supplies for the intravenous bags!"

"Intra..."

Akio murmured as he went over the word in his mind, taking a moment to translate it before another swear fell from his lips. Without another word to the poor attendant, he spun on his heel and ran out. Where could he be?!

Perhaps he left the temple grounds? But if he did, it made it nearly impossible to find him. Unless...

But Jebe never left Sari's side, and so the little bluebird would be little help, even if Akio could find the bird in time to find Sari to keep him from doing the irreversible. Damn it...

His mind was racing as he ran through the temple grounds, searching for any clues to where the Qalli might have gone.

As he went by the gardens, there was angry chirping nearby. At this time of the evening? Odd. It was near the small pond where Sari often took Tani to play when she had excess energy.

The bluebird was puffed in anger, flying about the small cage propped up on a rock. It was placed near the walkway, enough that some attendant would have found it the next morning and not endangering the small bird at all.

Akio froze when his horn caught the angry chirping, head snapping over.

The Kami were merciful this day! He rushed over, kneeling down with a soft clicking noise as he fiddled with the latch to open the cage.

"<I am here,>" he said quickly, throwing the cage door open for the little bird. "<Take me to him.>"

Oh angry birb was angry. He instantly dive-bombed Akio's face before flying off at a surprisingly quick pace down the stone path that led out of the temple.

Akio made a short 'pbbth' sound out of reflex. Hey, he was trying to save the man!

But he didn't have time to be offended at the little angry puffball, instead darting after Jebe as fast as the two of them could go.

How could such a small lil blue puffball be so quick? Jebe darted over Shirogane's infrastructure, heading down the slopes towards the beaches. Even then he still flew, heading away from the beach chairs, the awnings, away from what would populated areas in the day.

The beach... Water...?

It would be out of the way, for certain, leaving it near impossible to find the body. Was that what he'd wanted?

Akio was nearing breathless as he kept on the tail feathers of the small bird, eyes searching for the Qalli in an almost desperate fashion.

Rocks dotted the sand in some of the more remote parts, harder to climb and navigate over, rougher terrain.

And that's where Sari sat motionless. He was leaning against one of the rocks facing the water. The IV line ran to that flesh arm, put in with an expert hand. The sedative bag he'd stolen weeks ago was empty, rigged up over a stick.

At least he could watch the water he enjoyed under the silvery light of the moon as he’d fallen asleep.

No no no no no no no no!

Akio felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest by An Yeung, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he scaled over the rocks. Normally, he wouldn't have so much as slipped, but tonight he stumbled once or twice, hands flying out to keep himself moving forward.

"<What have you DONE?!>"

The question came out in Hingan, far harsher than he'd meant it, a near roar as he slid to one knee next to the Qalli. The damnable idiot! The stupid... Poor, pained man.

Akio knew better than to let anger lead him to blame. He knew what this was like. But Sari deserved better. To die like this....

"<You're not dying tonight!>" he hissed sharply.

But it appeared to be far too late. Sari was a healer of both traditional and aetherial means. He knew well enough of what would happen with a fast drip of a sedative of this nature. A sleepy death, far more peaceful than what he'd deserved. No mess for others to worry about if his body was found.

He hoped no one found him. That those letters were enough.

But those hopes were gone. His breathing had stilled, no rise and fall of his chest under the Eastern cloth. Silvery hair obscured most of his face, that one eye closed, head lulled against the rock and his shoulder.

Akio had been too late, by far, it seemed.

No...

Once more, Akio found himself holding a body in his arms, the Xaela quick to gather the Qalli to him as he tried to check for his pulse, his breathing, anything. Teeth gritted against an all-too familiar pain, he snarled, tail lashing against the sand and rocks. Fingers curled into the fabric, head lowered as long blonde locks fell over both his own face and Sari's chest, forehead pressed to his still breast.

"<No, please,>" he whispered, pleading, begging. It was all far too familiar, and the mask cracked, old wounds bleeding once more as he hunched there.

"<You silent, selfish fool.>"

He knew it wouldn't be heard. Knew the Qalli wouldn't be able to retort.

"<What of Enqtani?!>" he yelled now. "<You were her father! No one will replace you in her life!>"

It was quiet for once.

A quiet he used to only be able to find in the peace of the Shroud's embrace, days on his own in the Twelveswood. Soon though, even that place became haunted to his memories. There was always...something. Something to drag the Xaela back to the dark.

So he'd given up fighting it. Fell into sin and the bottle without care.

And it was why he finally had the resolve to fade away. He was a ghost. No one would care. Everyone had their lives, their loved ones, their families. Perhaps he was envious. But he was also glad for them.

So he'd smile and wish them all well, even as he faded from their thoughts. And he'd be left to the grey shadowy mist that had become his life. Ever since that day he'd walked into that empty house, a newborn in his arms.

Ever since he'd knew, with certainty, that a happy ending never awaited a ghost.

'>You fought me with such ferocity before. Where is that beast now?<'

The drums, he knew this from before. Before when they had met, it had been a raging river, blood, and mud.

'>I am most disappointed. I cannot allow my vessel to fade in such a pathetic manner. Show me that ferocity, that fire.<'

And suddenly Sari shot awake, falling to his side and away, retching. Breaths forced into his lungs, some force pushing that deadly toxin from his body in no way that should be possible.

Akio let out a small, muffled noise of surprise, eyes widening as he let go and nearly jumped back, hands up. What the...

He'd been dead... Dead! There had been no breath in his breast, no pulse underneath his fingers! And so he stared, wide-eyed and startled. How...?

He didn't speak, hands lowering, before one placed itself gently on the other male's back, some minute attempt at comfort.

Oh it burned, it hurt, yet was so unbearably cold at the same time. Shudders wracked his slender frame as he retched again and again into the sand. Toxicity was black on his lips, something having gathered all that poison he'd given himself and thrown it out in some unnatural way.

By the time he stilled, he was breathless, gasping for air and covered in sweat. Still not fully grasping what had happened.

An exhausted look to one arm that propped him up. The IV was still there. Then...what had happened?

"<You're alive...>"

If it weren't for the breathless awe and disbelief in Akio's tone, one might think he'd been answering Sari's unspoken question. But he wasn't; he was trying to affirm the truth for himself, in his own eyes. Sari was alive. Somehow, in some way, something had saved him.

Even he knew this shouldn't have been possible. And yet here he was, breathing, if barely. "<Easy, Sari-san, easy.>"

Sounds were beginning to return outside of the wild pounding of his heart echoing in his horns. The sound of the waves over the surf, a familiar voice. Sitting up, shaky, he saw Akio at his side.

He rubbed his mouth with a wrist, still feeling that sickening bile there. "...Akio-san... How..."

It was night, he hadn't been...out...long then.

"Why am I not..."

Gods, had he failed at this too? Could he even not kill himself correctly?

"You were," came the answer, soft and haunted, but he smiled, despite the pain in his eyes. "And now, you are not... I do not know why. I do not know what happened."

He sighed, pulling off the top part of his kimono to drape it over the Qalli, reaching to gingerly take out the IV. It was freezing out, especially at night by the ocean, but...

He didn't seem to mind, simply holding Sari's arm to stop the bleeding from the injection site.

"Why would you..." he trailed off, hesitating as deep black eyes flitted over to Sari's face.

"... What pain you must endure," he finished with a soft murmur.

...why? Why couldn't he even do this right? His throat tightened, foul taste still in his mouth. Had he guessed wrong? No, a full bag at that rate of drip, it couldn't have been metabolized in time for him to live. And if what Akio said was true...

A harsh swallow as the other Xaela tended to him, Sari not fighting it one bit. His own mask was in shambles, magitek hand going to cover his face as a sob escaped.

"...I just wanted it to be over," he strangled out. "I don't want to be here anymore, please."

Akio paused at this, a small frown pulling at his features as the mask slipped once more. Ah... What should he do?

He knew that people would need to be informed. The priests, for certain. Perhaps the guard, and the clinic staff. Those who would be able to keep an eye out, an eye on the man.

And...

He knew it was improper, but he'd spend enough time in the West that he was able to cast aside his upbringing's teachings for a moment to simply... pull the man into a tight hug.

"...You are much too desired in this world, to leave it so," he murmured softly.

"That's a lie!" was the sharp denial and he wanted to fight the hug so badly but he had no strength to, even more so as the tears flowed from that one blue eye. "They all leave, they always live, no one stays. Love doesn't mean anything. Not with me. I'm all alone."

The words he'd held back for so long, for years, gushed forth without stopping. Every little thought that had passed through his mind, that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't worthy, that he was unwanted.

Akio didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to soothe the pain the Qalli suffered, or how to comfort him. So he simply sat there, for the time being, holding Sari, rocking him back and forth and shushing him gently.

"<You're not alone,>" he answered finally, wiping away those tears with one thumb. "<Through all the pain, you are not alone. Your death would leave a hole in the hearts of many, one that could never be filled again. I know not what words to say to convince you of this truth. I can only speak it plainly.>"

He let out a breath, cradling him as Akio sat there, eyes closing.

"<I'm not lying. I promise this.>"

"It is a lie. You're lying. I'm sorry." An instant apology at the accusation but it was true. Everyone lied.

Even as he listened to those Hingan words, his spilling out of words continued in Common.

"He said that, too. He said I'd be safe. That I could cry. That we'd be happy. And that he'd never leave me. It was a lie, again and again it was a lie!"

Voice rising to a wail, uncaring of who heard, how much a mess he was, damn his mask.

"<Then he was a liar, and a fool, and he never should have held your heart in his unworthy hands.>"

And still, Akio rocked, gently, like the ocean they sat beside as he held the wailing Qalli, holding him securely in his arms.

"<But you have family. Family, and a child, and friends, all of whom adore you and your presence.>" His words came across far better in Hingan; he didn't mind that Sari spoke in Common. He understood him, and so he could get across his meaning better. That was what mattered, just then, to the Eastern Xaela.

"<I'm sorry that you weren't safe... You deserved to be. You have always deserved to be.>" A small, gently squeeze in that hug, the taller man curling over the smaller just slightly. "<If only I could find him and force him to his knees to beg your forgiveness.>"

No no no no no. It was still lies. No one wanted him about unless they needed him for something. And Sari wanted to be angry but he couldn't be. They'd found happiness. He hadn't. He couldn't fault his friends that had found peace.

But it was godsdamned lonely when he'd been so close to the same and it had drifted like smoke through his fingers.

"...n-no. He left because I wasn't..."

Good enough? Worthy?

"<Because why...?>" came the gentle prodding, one hand rubbing Sari's back gently.

"<If you say it's because you weren't good enough, then you view yourself too poorly.>"

Exhausted, face red with his tears and sorrow, he rested his chin on Akio's shoulder and nodded. It was true. He was disgusting, used, weak. That was why. Not smart enough, strong enough, charming enough, brave enough.

"<I refuse to believe that,>" Akio retorted firmly, resting his own chin on Sari's shoulder. "<Whoever this weak-willed man was...>" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"<I don't have the words to describe the kind of filth he was.>"

"No, he..." His hands weakly rested against Akio's back. "...he was good. I just wasn't...meant for him. I trapped him."

That's what the bonding had done. Khabi had seen what a weak person he'd tied himself to. That's why he'd left, right?

"<If you simply were not meant for each other, then why did he not say so?>"

Akio shook his head. "<If he wasn't able to tell you such things, to talk to you about it, he was weak.>" He pulled back, looking at Sari with a firm expression, mouth pulled into a frown as he stared the Qalli in the eye.

"<It is not your fault, Saranqerel.>"

...it was. It always would be. Why did everyone always leave? There was only one constant in all of that. Those words threatened to spill out but he was so tired, so frustrated that he couldn't even do this deed right.

Shaking his head, Sari looked to the sand. How could he still be crying?

"Can you..." Shite, he was fighting hiccups. "...leave me here?"

"No."

The word was spoken in Common now, as he shook his head. There was no way in the seven Western hells he was about to leave Sari alone right now!

"I am afraid I cannot do that."

"Please."

How could he go back now? Everything was in place. Things were finally ready. There was finally going to be quiet.

But there was little fight left in the Qalli as he begged. Just let him rest where he wasn't a burden to anyone.

"Iie," he repeated in Hingan. "You may rest with me. But I will not be leaving you alone. This is final."

Akio's tone left little room for argument- or at least that was the intent. He didn't know what else the Qalli might do, but he was damn sure not going to let him try again.

"...you'll leave...in time."

That was a guarantee. Just wait it out. Like everyone else. As he relaxed his hold on the other Xaela, his hand brush the hilt of that katana the samurai had at his waist.

A weapon he'd learned to use from someone else that had abandoned him, turned against him. There was a flash of anger somewhere deep and before he knew it, Sari went to draw that blade in a swift motion as he leaned back. Quickly he got to his feet, though stumbling a bit as he did so.

There was the softest 'sorry' as he raised the blade, going to drive it into his chest.

Akio swore, and in an instant he was on his feet, surging forward to grab at Sari- the sword, his arm, whatever he could grab.

Likely the sword, and the razor sharp blade would cut into his fingers, a pain he would brush aside in favor of throwing the sword away from the Qalli. "<ENOUGH!>" He bellowed.

It was just a bit too late, that magitek arm giving the former Adder the strength advantage.

...yes, pain. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The sword impaling him through and through before Akio ripped it from his grasp.

...had it been enough? He sunk back down to his knees in the sand.

Akio snarled, throwing the sword away now as he grabbed for Sari. If that was how it would be, then so be it.

He was swearing up a storm that would make a seasoned sailor tremble in fear. His goal would be to pick up the Qalli and rush him back to the shrine.

"<I will NOT have your blood on my blade!!>"

No! A return of that snarl from the smaller Xaela.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Anger rising to meet anger. Everything had been arranged. It was time to go. He swiped with the claws of that weaponized arm but he was already feeling faint, unable to fight it when the samurai lifted him from the damp sand.

"I will not abandon you," came the snarled reply as he bolted over the sand and rock, booking it as fast as his legs could go.

He needed to call ahead, but his arms were full, and so he simply ran, pushing until his legs burned then pushing further.

The anger soon faded as the blood loss began to drain him of such things. Soon his head rested limply against Akio's chest. ...and then again he gasped for breath violently, so much like before.

No no no. Could he...not...

>A small spark of that fire, not nearly enough. Impress me, child of the moon.<

Once Akio finally reached the shrine, he burst in through the door, offering a silent apology to the resident Kami. Any damages would be repaired later, the Xaela was on a mission.

He called out for the night clinic as he rushed to it, ground Sari as if he were the one dying.

That poor young woman was still there and anxious. But at least she had a good enough head on her shoulders to have things ready for the worst. And when she saw the two Auri men, and that blood, she directed Akio to the closest bed.

"...I can't die," Sari mumbled.

"No, you cannot," came the response, though Akio misunderstood what it was Sari had meant, immediately rushing the man to the nearest bed and setting him down, immediately backing up to give the woman room to work

. He looked haunted, tail lashing violently as he stood there. "Anything I can do to help, instruct me."

There was the sound of books falling over in the back. Botan had been given a room, and yet...she was asleep under a blanket that was under a pile of books, half beneath the low sitting table. A yawn left her as she stretched herself out and nose wiggled at the scent of blood. The shadows eager, but she stilled them. Least another ghostly movement spook another clinic worker.

She got up, dressed in the standard shrine attire she had stolen from the common rooms. Her wooden sandals clicking on the floor as she approached. "Assistance needed?" She inquired with unblinking eyes. "It seems the answer is 'yes,' but will not invade unless wished for."

That tail was still, lips in a straight line, and eyes unblinking as she stood before the scene without an iota of emotion portrayed.

Ah the poor healer never ceased to he spooked by Botan, even after knowing she was there!

"Yes, please. This may require stitches."

Though Sari was obviously dazed by the blood loss, he knew...he knew. Why hadn't he died on the Steppe before being found by Khenbish? Had that plunge in the river, those drums...what Shonkhor had seen.

Not a crazed vision?

Akio simply bowed his head and stepped out of the room, remaining out of the way of the two medics as he stood against the wall, closing his eyes.

Blearily the Qalli tried to get his bearings. The familiar scent of the clinic. He'd been in here just bells before... His mind was still reeling from the revelation. If that's what it was and not some nonsensical shite.

Botan was in the room. No ceremony to the matter. Just pulling out a pouch of the pain killing incense from her sleeve and filling the bronze incensor before lighting it on fire. Then she was sitting over Sari. Her hands resting over that wound in the gut, fingers lingering over it as she focused on the composition of aether and murmured calculations on the fly as she steadily studied Sari's biology through the geometric patterns she etched in her mind.

Every bit of her form was still. The shadows seemed to withdraw, shrinking in towards her and feeding into her power as she focused. They were every bit an extension of the small raen woman.

To her eyes, she may have seen the shadow that had curled itself tightly into Sari's aether. Foreign, spread evenly through every aspect of the Xaela and content to be where it was. Oddly dormant, just...there. It was nothing like the near feral aggressive curse of the kitsune that he'd suffered from for a good year. In fact, that curse has been completely obliterated by this new presence.

Botan was aware of that presence, but did not disturb it. No. She would simply work around it, add it to her calculations, and apply new formulaic patterns of aether into Sari's own. Those that would encourage flesh to stitch itself together and slow the bleeding. Her brow creased and lips pursed together as calculations were rumbled off.

If it would not allow her to heal him, she would simply brute force her way past it. That or she would show it who the scarier creature was. Not that she thought she could bully something like this...something far older than she; a mere raen youth of twenty-some-turns.

Oh the presence didn't fight the healing, no. In fact it held strands of aether close, not letting the flesh fall into death. A threshold of sorts. Sari could very much end up close to death but that final step into the lifestream wouldn't be taken.

Interesting.

The work was slowly finished and her fingers pressed against the fabric over the wound. Those digits dipped in blood and eyes open again as she sensed how flesh gave way to her calculus. There was no grin of victory. No whoop of astonishment.

No.

This was peculiar. Curious. The violet false eye with its mandala like patterns fixed on Sari.

"You have ventured far and brought shadow back with you."

The pain killers helped sooth her own pains. A twist in her gut told her she had pushed herself too far aetherically, but she ignored it. That tail ticked and she lifted her hands away to look at the blood. No blinking, just...rubbing fingers against one another.

"Fate is not done with you yet, Saranqerel." Then she looked at the woman. "Clean. Stitch the surface wound that remains."

Then there was a yawn. Botan was ready to retreat back to where she came. Like some horror slinking away into their closet until the next time someone had need of her and her arcanistry.

The Auri nurse watched with some nerves. How could one not be unnerved watching Botan work? But she nodded and went straight to work. Ritsuka didn't hire weak-willed employees, after all. Especially for the clinic.

The stitches were made evenly, front and back where the blade had pierced. Then wrappings about his middle. And, in some irony, an IV attached for fluids and antibiotics.

Putting everything away and washing her hands, she went to peek out into the hallway. "Obinata-san, he'll be alright."

Akio turned his head, and, mask back in place, he smiled, despite the blood that coated his front. It wasn't anything he was unused to, and so it didn't seem to bother him. At least, now that Sari was okay.

"You have my deepest thanks," he said with a low bow.

Botan just looked at Akio. The raen quiet, and unmoving in that moment before her stomach growled to cut into the moment.

All she said: "Beef Udon. Three sets."

Akio turned his head to look to the other Raen with a chuckle and another bow. "My thanks to you as well- if it will serve to repay even a small portion of my debt to you, I shall see it done."

He turned then, setting off unless stopped, to go get that Raen some damn beef udon.

Botan sat on the stool in the room, and just waited. That tail swishing. Good. Though her attention was fixed on Sari again. Academic curiosity in that gaze.

The nurse was sure to return the bow with a smile before returning to the clinic. She had to write everything in the changeover log for the day shift and what supplies had been used...as per Mitsue and Mashuel's rules.

As for Sari, he drifted in and out of awareness. But that gaze on him pulled him more to reality. He tiredly looked over, pale and a mess from his sobbing earlier. "...can you see what it is...?"

"A thing of the Steppe. This is what their old knowledge tells me..." A hand lifts and taps one horn. Though the shadows are watching. "Well it is my knowledge now."

This is a reference to the Xaela back in the Steppe she had first aetherically devoured to fix her own aether. With it perfectly assimilated she was back to the pale flesh and red hair rather than that ugly dark complexion she never liked. Not that she was a vain creature. Not like her mess of a dead father.

"It is what kept you alive."

"...then it wasn't a nightmare." Slowly he pulled the sheets up to his chin. Ugh he was utterly drained on every other possible level. "I can't die then."

Of course...of course. The one solace he could bring to himself, denied.

"Death is not an escape." Botan said in an observant matter. "You simply pass the burden of pain to those you leave behind." A flick of the tail. "Look at your friend who tried so hard to fight to keep you alive too."

"...he shouldn't have."

Why? Yes, he and Akio had had some good times. But they'd known each other for a few moons. Why would he...bother?

Botan didn't even frown. She just fixed her unblinking gaze on Sari. What a dumb question. The tail flicked and she simply breathed deep of the pain killing smoke.

"Every life is precious, even those that are destined to be eaten." Botan explained. "It's not about the why and the who, it is about the preciousness of that gift. The holiness of that cycle."

"I don't want it..."

How was any of this a gift? Being left alone again and again. Never being granted a happy ending...

"...can you check on Obinata-san? I think he hurt his hands earlier."

It was just then that Akio entered once more, hands wrapped to keep that blood from getting into the udon.

"I do believe I have a delivery!" he announced, far too cheerful for what had happened and how he'd felt not a quarter bell earlier.

He smiled bright, looking to Botan as he held the noodles. "Where do you want me to put these?"

Botan looked at Akio.

There is something broken in this one.

Though she at least kept the thought in her head and didn't blurt it out with the same heavy handed honesty she served Sari. That ivory tail flicked, and hands reached out for the udon. In an instant she had the chop sticks plucking up a swirl of the good beefy udon to take a bite.

Any harsh words of knowledge were lost for now. She would just chew and think. Though she did look at the wrapped hands.

No it required none of her energy, let the other woman handle it.

Meanwhile in the bed, Sari had to look away. Hand clenched in the sheets. How could he look at Akio after that?

Fortunately he was saved as the nurse came by after cleanup to see that blood. "Obinata-san! What are you doing? Over here!" She grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him over to a medical station.

Akio had opened his mouth, wanting to speak with Sari- but then he was dragged away, and he laughed slightly. It would be easy for him to resist, but he let himself follow as if he were no stronger than a child, tail fluttering behind him.

"Hai hai, my apologies miss!"

Botan had a moment where she felt like laughing, but didn't. Though her gaze went back to Sari.

"Fate, the Twelve, the Kami, or whatever has given you something, Sari. An opportunity." She moved chopsticks lazily through the soup, gathering noodles. The fat things rolled around through the beef brother as she seemed to play with her food. "An opportunity that you can take, face them down with, and carve your way through the hell you've been given. The question is," she lifted the roll of noodles hanging from the chopsticks, "will you tear down your tormentors, or let them devour you?"

Those eyes looked to him unblinking. "After all, the thing attached to you does look delicious."

"Then take it." There may have been a bit of a snap to his tone.

Botan shook her head. "Looking delicious and wanting to eat it are different things." Udon noodles were slurped in not-so-graceful a way. "I want to see you challenge your path, Sari. Show whatever gods there are in this world that you will not sit under their heel no more. That is what I really want, because you're a dear friend not a morsel."

"I don't give a shite about any of that!" he snapped, fangs bared.It seemed sorrow had warped to anger.

He covered his face. It was so unlike him to be like this.

No one understood. No one got that he was so bloody tired!

Akio, from where he'd been taken by the nurse, looked up. It hadn't been hard to hear that in the quiet of the clinic. How he wanted to go to the poor man's side, offer him some comfort, even if he didn't want it.

A soft sigh escaped him, and he looked down once more, to watch as the Raen woman did her work.

Botan shrugged. The girl wasn't going to push back and forth with him, and simply moved to stand. There was a look at Akio, and she just left the room to go back to her hiding place in the back room to finish her noodles and get back to sleeping. It wasn't her place to fix broken minds and hearts after all.

The Auri nurse was very obviously troubled with the back and forth, but unsure of what to say. So she kept to bandaging Akio's hands, both disinfected and wrapped firmly.

"There. I know it's difficult but try to limit as much use as you can. Ask for help in tasks, alright?"

Akio smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side. "Hai," he said with a playful sort of reluctance. "If I must trouble others, then I shall under the doctor's orders." A crooked grin given to the Raen woman, before he stood with a bow of thanks, making his way back to Sari's bedside.

The Xaela's anger still simmered but there was no one to direct it towards and it quickly fizzled out as he stared out the window. A cold rain had started, obscuring the moon's light over Shirogane. Depressing. Fitting.

"Sari-san..."

The name was soft, gentle, as Akio watched the other Xaela, expression turning sympathetic, perhaps almost sad, if not for that smile staying in place. It ill befitted the scene.

That burned side was closest to Akio, hiding the one good eye which closed at the sound of his voice.

Anger that he'd been stopped.

Anger that, even if he hadn't been, it wouldn't have meant anything.

Sorrow that someone had to witness all of that.

It's why Sari had slunk off and away.

"...I'm sorry. You should take some painkillers and rest."

"I am not leaving you alone."

Despite the gentle tone, it was, once again, firm. Resolute. Akio simply watched as he sat there, watched the Xaela stare out the window, at the rain.

He wanted to be angry, himself, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He was just.... sad. He wanted to help, even if the two of them were near strangers.

"I will be perfectly fine," he added now, tail curling to one side as he leaned back, smiling. "It is nothing I have not endured before. Perhaps less so."

The Xaela chuckled, tilting his head to one side.

"....I am sorry to have stopped you, Sari-san..." Once again that quiet, gentle tone. Almost regretful, but not quite.

What could he say to that? That he accepted the apology? No.

He'd wanted to go. He still did. But that wasn't an option anymore.

....so what did he say?

"Please don't tell anyone else. I don't want to..." Deal with it.

They'd care for a few moments, fuss over him. Then fade back into their happy lives once more. He didn't want to ne envious, bitter. Sari was glad those he knew had found peace. But...he'd wanted it too.

"...You need help."

It was a quiet observation, the Xaela almost frowning. Almost. He couldn't let the mask drop again, not like that. By the Kami....

He lowered his head, hands folded together against his forehead as he stared at the floor. What did he answer with? He couldn't just not tell the priests, or Ritsuka. Sari needed to be put on suicide watch, to keep him from doing it again. He needed help....

He needed to want it first, though, this much Akio knew. It was a universal truth to many problems. Someone who didn't want help would only reject it.

"I am certain you are angry with me," he said softly. "And I am certain that you will be angry with me for my answer. But you must understand, I am bound, by contract and honor, to report this."

"Feck honor," was the snap, though he kept staring at the window.

What did honor do? The twisted pride of the Steppe? The samurai code those at Kotodama supposedly adhered to? The Grand Company that had thrown him aside because of something he couldn't control?

Akio let out a breath, brow furrowing now.

"I will not throw aside mine to suit the ends of another."

Grumbles in Xaelic as Sari rolled over despite the pain of his injury. No, he didn't want to deal with this. He may say something more he'd regret.

Safe from death, perhaps, but not safe from the recovery that came of the incident.

Another sigh, and Akio settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his front as he closed his eyes. He likely wouldn't sleep tonight, instead meditating. Some form of rest, while keeping alert.

"I said I would not leave you alone, Sari-san," he said gently. "I mean this, as an oath." And Akio did not break his oaths.

"I didn't ask for your oath," was the grumpy mumble as he pulled the blanket over his head.

Nor did he ask for acceptance. But he didn't voice this aloud, simply remaining silent now.

And silence met silence as Sari tried to sleep. As much as he didn't want to, the stress of high emotions and whatever his body was doing sapped him.

Eventually with the sound of the cold winter rain, his eye shut and he drifted off in the darkness of his blanket lair.

#roleplay

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prettyboiiharringrove · 6 years

Note

#3) What about some Harringrove “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” (was anyone else obsessed with this show on TLC)

( alpha/beta/omega masterlist )

boy was i ever. my favorite part is that the actors for the reenactment never looked like the actual people. It was amazing television, so chaotic and confusing and great, and if you haven’t seen is there’s full episodes on youtube, please join us on this wild ride.

also i don’t know if you’ve ever seen the night shift but i’m basing the doctor in this off of tc and the nurse off kenny because i feel like they’d have a good vibe. honestly actually everyone from the night shift would just take in billy and be like must protec and if neil showed up talking shit literally EVERYONE would be ready to square up thanks now i need this completely unlikely and irrelevant crossover i legit have ideas for it but like no one would be into it lolol

lol y’all got two show recs before i even got to the ‘good’ stuff, finally filling your request darlin. let it be known this could have gone a lot darker but i tried to keep it as angst with a semi happy ending (but also with a where the fuck could this go vibe because i just love to do that to y’all) so please enjoy

also i know you didn’t ask for it but i did teen billy just because like idk it’s what was speaking to me so i hope that’s okay

back at it again with my fav omega son

😱 😱 😱

The most surprising part of all of this is that Nancyfucking Wheeler’s the one that convinces him to go to the hospital. The love ofhis life’s shitty ex and newly appointed best fucking friend, the main sourceof all his jealousy, not including his nagging insecurity, is the one thatdrags him to the car and drives him to the emergency room.

Billy and Steve hadbeen in a fight, still are actually, which means that his stupid fuckingfriends were sent to check on him. He still hangs out with Tommy and Carol, andthey’ve kind of made up with Steve for his sake, so it isn’t that bad when they’reasking fucking questions, even though they never really cared, but when fuckingWheeler and Byers are in his goddamn business, it pisses him off.

He’s sitting on thefloor in front of his locker, curled up into a ball as he tries to bite backthe pain pulsing through him, uncaring of the fact that he’s blocking at leasttwo lockers that don’t belong to him.

“Fuck off Wheeler,” hegroans when he sees her tiny little feet standing in front of him. He’s kind ofpissed off that he can recognize her without looking at her stupid pretty fuckingface.

She crouches down toglare at him, every inch of her 5’4” frame giving off judgement and impatience.She clearly doesn’t want to deal with his shit. Good, she’s equally as unhappyabout these little interactions then.

“Steve’s worried,” shetells him, as if he doesn’t already fucking know, as if he hasn’t been dealingwith these fucking cramps for the last three days, as if he hasn’t wanted tocurl up in Steve’s lap since he woke up at four in the morning sobbing becausehe was in so much fucking pain.

“Good for him,” hetries to sound angry, but Nancy sees right through him. She rolls her eyes. Howthe hell she deals with high school boys and their bullshit on a daily basis,she’ll never know.

“You look like crap.”

“You sure know how tomake a guy feel special,” he huffs out a laugh but then he’s doubling over,cradling his stomach as tears burn in his eyes.

“You should go to adoctor,” she sighs, looking sympathetic. Funny, Billy never thought he’d seethat look directed towards him.

“I’ve had worse,” hebarks.

Fucking liar. If heweren’t in so much pain, he’d probably wonder when his conscience started usingSteve’s voice to get to him. As if to prove a point, his stomach and back startpulsing, and he can’t hold back the whimper that bubbles up from his throat.

When her eyes go wide,he can’t help the pang of worry that he feels in his gut. Nancy Wheeler is veryrarely ever surprised or scared, or rather she does a very good job of hidingit. The only person that locks away worry and suffering better is Billyhimself.

“You’re bleeding,” shewhispers, her tone unsettling.

“So, I probablyscratched a scab open, or walked into something, shit happens,” Neil pushes himinto the brick of their fireplace at least once a week, twice this week, it wouldn’tsurprise him if he got cut; he hardly notices when it happens anymore.

“No, look at yourpants,” Nancy’s gone pale, so he takes a while to look down. He’s already inpain, he’d like to live in blissful ignorance for just one moment longer.Eventually, he glances down, his pants wet with both blood and some otherfluid. He hadn’t even noticed, he was in so much pain.

“Shit,” Billy’strembling now, both from pain and fear. That’s never happened before. Pain so hard to handle that’s he’s in a heapon the floor, that’s happened before, not to this caliber, but it’s happened.Blood leaking through the crotch of his jeans though, that’s completely new.

“Come on, I’m takingyou to the hospital,” she’s already moving to help him up, and when her handgoes under his armpit to keep him stable, he realizes she’s surprisinglystrong. She probably would have had him up in an instant if he were being evena little cooperative.

“Can’t,” he doesn’ttry and say he’s fine, knows she’ll call him out on his bullshit, but there’sno part of him that is stupid enough to think that blood changes anything. Ifhe goes to the hospital and they see all the cuts and bruises, he’s dead.

“Stop being a child,get up,” she scolds him, tugging on his arm once again. He jerks it away, histemper firing back up despite his pain.

“You’re not fuckinglistening. I can’t go,” he tellsher. He moves to get up himself, to stand and walk the opposite direction, butall he manages to do is crawl less than a foot away before he’s practically sprawledout on the floor, leaning on his backpack. “He’ll kill me.”

Nancy furrows herbrow. She’s not stupid, but he’s always been pretty good at hiding this, andSteve wouldn’t rat him out, not even when they’re fighting. She sighs, noddingin understanding when the gears stop turning. So, she knows his secret now,great.

“Yeah, well if we stayhere, you might be dead anyways. Come on,” she’s gentler now, moreunderstanding, but she’s still forceful. There’s no room for argument, and atthis point Billy’s trying his best to stay conscious and keep himself frombiting his fucking tongue off, it hurts so badly; he doesn’t have any fightleft in him.

He’s not sure how theymake it outside, she’s practically dragging him, and he thinks they run intothe lockers a few times. He vaguely remembers her stealing his keys and shovinghim in the passenger’s seat; it reminds him of the few times he’d beenarrested, the way she cradles his head so he doesn’t hit it and slams the dooronce he’s in. If he were more himself he’d mouth off to her about being morefucking gentle with his baby.

He blacks out on hisway to the hospital.

———————————

He comes to in a room, apparently blood, random body fluids,and being unconscious speeds up the wait time. He’s got an IV in his arm andthe sterile smell is making him sick to his stomach. It’s too familiar, remindshim of the last time he saw his mom and it burns.

He thinks what woke him up was the prick of a needle,considering he sees a nurse stepping away with a small vile of his blood. He’snot quite sure, because the sting of the needle is nothing in comparison to thecramping that’s been coming and going all day.

“Tell me you didn’t call my dad,” are the first words out ofhis mouth, desperate and pleading. He doesn’t care about who answers, just whatthe answer is.

“Your girlfriend told us not to. It’s not usually what we’ddo, but considering all your injuries, we figured that’d be the best decision,called social services and the chief instead,” the nurse tells him.

He doesn’t argue with him about the girlfriend comment,although he would never be caught dead dating her. He doesn’t have the time tocare, not when another sharp pain hits him in his abdomen.

He almost misses the scoff that helps him realize Nancy isstill there with him. He’s kind of appreciative for a second before he realizesit’s all for Steve’s benefit, and then he becomes distracted as he realizeswhat the nurse had said. Everyone’s been called and Neil is going to rip himapart.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as he struggles to breathe. He doesn’thave panic attacks often, and these days when he does Steve’s there to talk himthrough it. A nurse looking at him as he hyperventilates, telling him to calmdown isn’t helping, especially not when his stomach is cramping so badly he’scontemplating finding a scalpel to rip himself open, and he has to count downthe minutes until his dad finds out and slaughters him.

“I’m dead, I’m so fuckingdead. He’s gonna kill me because you assholescouldn’t keep your m—” he cuts himself off with a yelp; at least the pain isdistracting enough to have him biting down on his lip and holding his breath.It doesn’t put a full stop to his panic attack, but it does get him breathingnormal again.

The nurse takes his yelling and general shitty attitude instride, and Billy kind of really hates him for it, because he would very muchlike it if he wasn’t the only one suffering. “Sorry kid, I know it sucks, butwe can’t give you anything stronger than some Tylenol until we know what’swrong with you.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you suck?” Billy croaks out,clutching at his abdomen. Nancy makes an offended squeak, as if she expectedhim to have more manners and is hoping the nurse doesn’t take Billy’s attitudeas a representation of her own. Honestly, who the hell does she think she’swith right now ??

“All the time, part of the job,” the nurse answers with asweet smile, and Billy would probably have a crush on the guy if thecircumstances were different.

“No seriously, if I didn’t think I was gonna be dead by theend of the day, I’d spend like an entire fucking hour telling you just howfucking horrible you are, like I want to like you, but you really really suck dude.”

“No one’s letting you die,” he sighs, almost like he kind ofwants Billy to like him. Billy thinks he sees some glimmer in his eye, like heplans to win him over; he kind of wishes he would have the time to. He’swishing for a lot of things in this moment, for pain meds, for everyone toleave before his dad gets here, for them to believe him when he lies about thebruises, for Steve, oh god does he want Steve.

“Doesn’t matter if you let me or not, I’m screwed,” Billysays it more to himself, but he doesn’t miss the nurse pausing in the doorwayas if he were contemplating saying something; he probably couldn’t think ofanything comforting so he moved on. Billy thinks he made the right call,because there are absolute zero words that can make him feel any better rightnow.

He chances a glance at Nancy, who is just looking at himwith concern and disappointment as she sits awkwardly in a hard plastic chairagainst the wall. He doesn’t say anything to her, wants her to be at leastuncomfortable if he has to be miserable.

———————————

This doctor strolls into the room with a chart and Billy hasnever been so upset to see someone that fucking gorgeous. Of course they’d sendin a fucking supermodel to take care of him on the absolute worst day of his life.Does everyone in this goddamn hospital have to be so pretty ??

“Please tell me I’m dying,” the doctor laughs, probablythinking Billy is joking, but he would much rather die in that hospital bedthan at the hands of Neil Hargrove.

“Heard you’re complaining of stomach cramps and vaginal bleeding.”

“Complaining makes it sound like I’m being fucking dramatic,and trust me I’m not. I get the shit kicked outta me all the time, so trust mewhen I say this shit is fucking miserable.”

“You get in a lot of fights?” the doc questions with a glintin his eye, and Billy notices that the guy’s got a split lip and bruised cheekof his own. He wonders if he sees some of himself in Billy. If they’re anythingalike, Billy feels sorry for the guy.

“Something like that,” Billy shrugs, not in the mood forsmall talk. He just wants to get out of here. If they leave him alone longenough he can walk out before people start asking all the right questions andmaybe Neil will go easy on him.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, we’re gonna do an ultrasoundand a pelvic exam, make sure you’re not dying after all.”

“Trust me, doesn’t matter what you find, I’m a dead manwalking, but sure, do whatever you fucking want if it makes you happy,” it’snot like his body’s ever belonged to him, he might as well let them poke andprod, maybe alleviate the pain so he can have a few minutes of peace beforeNeil rips into him.

———————————

“Well I’ll be damned,” the doctor says as he pulls away fromBilly, letting him drop his legs back down into a more comfortable position andcover himself up with his gown and the blanket. “You didn’t think it might havebeen a good idea to tell us you’re pregnant?”

“What? I’m not,” Billy answers as he looks at this fuckingquack. Pregnant ?? He would have fucking noticed. If he was, how far along ??If it’s hurting this badly something must be terribly wrong. His desperatelonging for Steve hits again, knowing there’s not a damn person in that roomthat can comfort him the way he needs.

“Kid, I know you’re probably scared, you’re what, sixteen ??I get it, but no one here’s gonna judge you. You have to be honest with us.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he barksout, unable to even accept this information. This guy has to be fucking insane.

“You’re in labor and you’re telling me you had no idea aboutthis baby?”

In labor. Okay, no, this guy has to be messing with him.That, or he’s fucking insane.

“Look doc, I appreciate a good joke as much as the next guybut I’d really appreciate it if you stuck to your fucking day job right now andfigured out what the fuck is wrong with me because that’s not possible.”

“You tellin’ me you’re a virgin ?? Never had sex before, noteven once ??” the doctor looks at Billy with a raised brow and a smirk. Billywants to punch the look right off his face. The most annoying part is he’dprobably like the guy if he wasn’t in this particular situation.

“Well, no obviously I fucking have, I’m not a nun,” he rollshis eyes, falling back on the pillows.

“So there’s a chance you could be pregnant ??”

“I’m on fucking birth control, and I think I would havenoticed if I was pregnant, I mean do I look—”

“Doesn’t matter how you look.Birth control isn’t a guaranteed deal. It decreases your chances significantlybut it’s not one hundred percent. Sorry kid, but it’s not just a maybe, you’repregnant and that kid’s coming tonight.”

“Fuck me,” Billy groans, leaning back onto the bed andjamming his eyes shut. If he closes them and waits long enough to open them,this nightmare will be over.

“Looks like someone’s already beat me to it,” the doctorsays with a smirk and Billy lifts his leg to try and kick him since the guy’sstanding by the foot of the bed. He can’t quite reach him, and the stretchfucking hurts, but the nurse behind him smacks him upside the head and callshim an asshole. Okay, so maybe the nurse is a pretty good guy after all.

Normally Billy would have a comeback ready, but this timehe’s gripping the metal railing so hard his knuckles have gone white.

“I can’t do this,” Billy’s shaking again, pain and terrorovertaking him as his breathing becomes shallow. Nancy moves from her placeagainst the wall, desperate to think of anything that could get him to calmdown. “I can’t fucking do this. Where the fuck is he ?? I can’t, fuck, I can’t,” he’s hyperventilating now, andat least the doctor has wiped that stupid look off his face.

“Listen, you need to breathe, alright ?? We can help you,but this isn’t going to get you anywhere, it’s just gonna make things worse foryou and your baby, so you need to calm down.”

“Easy…for you…to say,” Billy struggles between breaths, hisargumentative nature never faltering, even as every good thing he’s built upfor himself comes crumbling down on top of him.

“I called Steve. He should be here any minute. It’s gonna beokay,” Nancy tells him, speaking for the first time since he’s woken up. Whythe fuck is she even still here ?? Billy can’t stand her, but the more hethinks about her leaving, the more he realizes he hates the idea.

“None of this is okay,” he argues as he bites back tears,but his breathing finally starts to settle at the thought of Steve. He closeshis eyes, forcing a few deep breaths, and he thinks he hears his doctoroffering up gentle praises for getting his breathing under control, but hecan’t really keep up because he’s not so patiently waiting on Steve while hetries to concentrate on not screaming due to what he now knows are labor pains.

———————————

Billy doesn’t really pay attention to anything anyone has tosay until they’re trying to move him to labor and delivery and Steve’s stillnot fucking there.

“I can’t, I can’t go yet,” Nancy’s never heard Billy sodesperate, and she’s sure she’s never seen him cry. “Wheeler, tell them, tellthem I need him, please, Nancy please!!”

The contractions are getting closer together, and apparentlythere’s a huge fucking chance for complications since he didn’t do any prenatalcare, there’s not much time and he needs to get up there, but if he’s desperateenough to ask Nancy for help, then they both know he can’t go anywhere untilSteve’s by his side.

“Five minutes, come on, just give me five minutes and if he’snot here you can take him,” Nancy and Billy are both looking at the nurses anddoctor with big pleading eyes, and they must be the most charming pair in the entire county,because the group reluctantly agrees.

“Five minutes,” the doctor tells her sternly, and Nancy doesn’twaste any time, heading towards the hallway to try and get cell reception tocall Steve again.

She starts to dial him only to see Steve barreling in, shoessqueaking as he practically slides down the corridor. Social services goes tostop him, although Hopper just rolls his eyes and is happy to let him by.

“He’s the father !! Let him through !!” Nancy yells, and the overdressedjudgmental strangers let him squeeze on by.

“Hey Nance,” Steve answers, panting as he’s hunched over,hands gripping tightly to his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Wait…father?!!”

“Steve?!” Billy hears his voice, and Nancy decides thatinstead of answering, she’s just going to push Steve into the room to seeBilly, because their five minutes are slowly dwindling down and they can walkand talk.

“Daddy dearest I presume?” the doctor answers with a smirkand Billy, who still has tears in his eyes, groans in both aggravation andpain.

“Can someone please tell him he’s not funny ??”

“Sorry kid, we’ve tried, he just doesn’t learn,” the nurseshrugs, and Billy’s decided that if that nurse leaves his side he’s going tolose his shit.

“Took you fucking long enough,” Billy sighs when he finallyturns to address Steve.

“I’m sorry, someone said father, is no one gonna tell mewhat the fuck is going on ?!!”

“Oh, right. Your boyfriend’s in labor and you’re the dad.Congrats,” the doctor nods and when he’s met with several glares he almostlooks offended. “What ?! Someone had to tell him, and we don’t exactly havetime to draw it out. Rip the fucking band-aid.”

“Your bedside manner is shit,” at least three people saysomething similar, but Billy only has time to hear himself before he turns toSteve, who is a carbon copy of Billy about an hour go, when he was given thesame news. “Steve, baby, I know this sucksand like you can totally be pissed at me later for screwing your life up butcan you just, can you wait until this is over to have your meltdown? I really need you right now.”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah,”Steve has several thoughts floating around in his head, like how he’s a fewhours from being a dad, maybe less, how he would never blame Billy for this, howhe loves him, how maybe this isn’t actually a bad thing, but his vocabulary isvery fucking limited as he tries to cope with the shock of it all, so he justnods stupidly and doesn’t even notice when the doctor snorts out a laugh.

“Thanks,” Billy croaks, shyly reaching for his hand, unsureif he’s still allowed to touch Steve after dumping this whole mess at his feet.Steve accepts it without question, squeezes it in a comforting gesture, andBilly thinks that despite the pain, he can do this. He can face death so longas Steve still loves him, so long as Steve gets their baby and Neil never getsclose to them.

———————————

Billy spends an hour and a half gripping Steve’s hand sotightly that at one point Steve thinks it might be fucking broken, until heloses circulation in it completely, and then there’s relief as he hearsscreeching, as his daughter is placed on Billy’s chest and he looks at her babyblue eyes and little tufts of hair and loses himself.

Billy finds himself missing the other doctor when the onethat delivered his daughter tells him that this is the easiest labor she’s seenin a while; he has half a mind to rip out her uterus and ask her how she feels.

Billy finds himself daydreaming as Steve climbs into the bedwith him. He rests against Steve and cradles their little girl in his arms andjust pretends, for a moment, that they could be happy. He knows eventually he’llhave to accept reality, that social services and the police are going to wantto talk to him about all the bumps and bruises only for his hope to fallthrough the cracks and Neil to drag him home and beat him bloody, but as hesits in the blissful silence, he lets himself be happy.

“She’s perfect,” Steve whispers and a single tear slips downBilly’s face as his daydream is interrupted.

“I can’t take her home Steve, she won’t be safe,” his voice ishoarse, but his conviction is strong. He needs Steve to hear him.

“What do you mean?”

“You have to promise you’ll take care of her, please, justpromise me,” he begs, holding her closer to his chest, enjoying what littletime he may have with her.

“I’ll always take care of her baby, I’m gonna take care ofboth of you,” Steve tells him, and god does Billy wish he could find comfort inthat.

“He’s gonna kill me, the second he finds out, I’m dead and Ican’t…I can’t let him hurt her too.”

“No one’s hurting anyone,” Steve sighs, leaning in closerand kissing Billy’s temple. “I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again.”

“You don’t know that, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,”he argues, but he finds himself leaning into Steve’s embrace, trying andfailing to fight the hope bubbling up in his chest.

“You’re not going home with him,” Steve says it with suchdetermination that Billy finds himself believing it.

It’s the truth, Steve won’t let them take him, he knowsthat, and even if it’s only their truth for the next ten minutes, he will baskin those ten minutes and hope for a future that may never come, because nomatter what happens to him, their little girl will always be safe in SteveHarrington’s arms.

#biancatorres1 #harringrove au #harringrove fic #omega billy hargrove #alpha steve harrington #alpha/beta/omega #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #omega billy #alpha steve #irrelevant but i need to catch up on nightshift now that four seasons are up thanks #i know that it's set in texas and billy is in indiana but let a girl live

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radiant-lux · 5 years

Text

Chapter I - Escape

“Oh, vanity...” The man’s attention was not drawed by such sarcastic tone. Even than the voice wasn’t exactly familiar, the Ordinal was inclined to ignore it. “Few can afford vanity. Isn’t, Kayn?

- Stop shouting my name in vain, you dull creature. – He spat, regretting at the same instant, realizing the scared look on the face of that woman sitting in front of him. She bowed respectfully to the officer in her presence, but it took a moment to get back into the work in his hands, filling his nails with black paint.

He could hear laughs, exactly as before landing on Ionan.

“Now that you proved worthy, only you can hear me, Ordinal Kayn.” Finally, the voice made itself annoying enough to gain his attention. His uncovered eye turned to look at the weapon layed on the remains of a table – now split in two. A scythe of long blade with an orb of Ora on the middle. Curiously, Kayn haven’t thought about removing the orb to see what would happen.

“Would you do something stupid like that, and lose all the fun?” The voice was back into his head, as if was able to read his thoughts.

Kayn look away and rose the hand at eyesight to analyze the work done in his nails. The shiny color reflected the outside colored by the flashlights of the slingspace, programed to lead them fast as possible to the core-planet. While he avoided thinking what was that thing on his table; once it clearly could read his thoughts, he tried to rehearse the report planned for when they were back at the planet.

“Will you lie, won’t you? Well Kayn, we both know you cannot tell what really happened in Ionan. Not even your victory upon Zago.” The weapon drew the Ordinal’s attention to himself once more. Kayn’s expression was annoyed and it was all Rhaast wanted; that Kayn stepped out of the line only once… Yes, only once would suffice. “It is smart to take prisoners to the Emperor. He will be less furious about your suspicious actions. It might even save your skin.”

At the instant that Kayn took a long breath to curse Rhaast, a deafening sound started, and the red alert went crazy. The golden interface notified an emergency call from the bridge.

- Sir, there was an escape, two prisoners out of cells. – It was captain Vassur’s voice, and it was clear as water, that she was focused in leading the ship into the core-planet, other than commanding the intercepting tropes. What, for him was marvelous, once he loved to hunt, specially when there was no way out for the rats. – They’re the ones you captured in Ionan, Sir.

Without responding the captain, he raised from the chair and pushed back the woman who haven’t finished the work in his nails. Walked to the splint table and didn’t hesitate to grab the scythe’s golden cable. It was amazing how it fit perfectly on his hand. He could feel the energy of the Ora running trough his veins, like if nothing could stand on his way while he wielded that weapon.

Static at the corner of the office with the head down, the servant raised her eyes quickly, only to notice the sick manner he looked at the scythe. If the alarm wasn’t so loud, she could swear that the Ordinal was talking to it. His expression was different. The whole crew of the Fractal Shear and – possibly – the whole Demaxian Empire knew that Shieda Kayn wasn’t a kind man of polished words, but since his return from Ionan he was different. His presence was frightening, and it was like if he could get into your mind, discover your deepest secrets and use them against you.

The Ordinal hurry up and passed the door with an impeccable stance. No one ever had escaped the Fractal Shear, and wouldn’t be under his command such disgrace would happen. Specially two at once… Specially two extremally important people.

-x-

Soundless steps walked in the shadows. Despite all the movement around them, the prisoners couldn’t let themselves into panic or simply ran into an opened area, where certainly they would be captured again or killed. They knew exactly who they where dealing with, and Shieda was not a man to play with, or simply hope the odds to be in your favor.

They had already been able to climb two decks, and only one separate them from the escape pods platform. Not making any noise was never that hard, and Yone asked himself how the hell she could be so silent; while he started to believe even his heart beats would be heard by the guards at any moment. The white-haired man stopped for a moment, hiding in the shadow of an iron column, then he breathed deeply, trying to control the fast breathing that could draw unwanted attention. His heart was beating so fast that blood filled his ears, and he had the strange feeling to be sinking in deep waters. Then he felt a cold and small hand touch the warm skin of his arm, and when looking behind, he saw exactly what he expected. Yet for a moment, that familiar look seemed to calm him down in a way that never had been necessary before. The yellow, fearless eyes now looked warm and cherishing, as if they were saying that it was all fine; a smile appeared among the calm expression and seemed a silent spell to calm Yone’s frenetic heart.

He breathed deeply once more and enjoyed the calm that Sona’s presence provided him. Then he moved forward followed closely by her, who seemed to float few centimeters from the floor, so light were her steps. Near to step out of the shadows, Yone raised his arm and stopped Sona from walking out the cover. They both immediately held breath – if Sona even breathe at all – to let a battalion pass them unnoticed. He could swore the last soldier heard him breathe, but for some reason decided to continue his walk.

Finally reaching the vertical stairs that would lead them to the launching platform, Yone helped Sona to climb and she pulled him up; quickly they hid behind the cargo at the deck. The first thing Yone noticed, was how empty the deck was, full of cargo and tasks abandoned half done. No one in sight. But there was no time to think any reason for that, they needed to escape that devilish ship soon as possible. Only then they noticed that the deafening alarm had been turned off.

Yone looked into Sona’s eyes, and chose to keep to himself that it was a terrible sign, all that… But she was no stupid child and understood, maybe better than anyone, who they were dealing with. In that ship, maybe in the whole Empire, there were only one person who was such excellent hunter. A hunter experienced in hunting things that knew were being hunted, things that would take extra care to not be noticed by anyone.

But inside this infinite loop of future points, the Dark Star bearer has absolute advantage.

And there he was. Wearing the black military uniform, unprovided of any other color or sign. The clothe dressed by the few who were considered worthy of such high and important position among the army. He, who even the Emperor – certainly – feared to look into the eye to contradict, the war dog that Javan IV – recklessly – kept unleashed on his yard.

- Why don’t you come out and play? – He taunted, wielding the huge weapon on his left hand. – I’m not used to be merciful twice, Sona. This time there will be no distraction to avoid me from cutting off your head. – He threatened. Yet, Kayn stood exactly where he was, standing in the middle of the hangar, ready to jump in front of any desperate attempt of escape.

“Leave the Templar alive” Sona heard the monstrous voice once more, if wasn’t enough all those years she heard it calling for her. There was no escape, she knew. They had to face Shieda and she couldn’t remember anyone who had lived after a fight with him. She touched Yone’s hand, but even that she begs him to stay low and let her do it, he would never.

- I’m done waiting. – The Ordinal reached the end of his patience and with a single wave, the huge box behind were they were hidden was thrown aside.

The fugitives jump one to each side and stood up, getting ready for battle, what made Kayn giggles. The once calm expression Sona held on her face, suddenly seemed never existed, and gave place to a determinate look, the one that made Kayn shut his face in rage, while that expression reminded him when he asked her things and she remain mute.

- I should rip off these petulant eyes. – He aimed the scythe at her heart.

Clearly, she was unarmed, and even though Kayn expression was indifferent, he was furious for even considering be gentle or letting her live because Rhaast said so. And knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t pull a word from her, made him even more furious.

Lacking patience, Kayn jumped in her direction, wielding the scythe to aim at her neck, but Sona was expecting that aggressive move and in a second she formed a golden barrier between them. The energy of that shield threw Kayn far in the ground, leaving him enraged.

“I told you to not underestimate her!” Sona could hear Rhaast say to his bearer while he stood up.

- SHUT UP! – Kayn shouted. And expecting that anything would be different, he jumped once more, only to be hurled again. At first, he couldn’t see what had protected her, only after the second failure he realized that she used the Ora stored on the boxes along the deck. – Damn Templar. – He cursed. His yellow eye focused on her, while the golden interface was malfunctioning while Sona manipulate the Ora. – Why didn’t you told me she could to that?! – He asked Rhaast.

“I wanted to know what would happen when you found out.” He answered simply.

- Well, now I want her even more. – Kayn straightened his stance once more, rubbed his hand through the hair, took a deep breath and laughed.

“Did you tired already?” Rhaast taunted him.

- I don’t see you helping out. – His laugh was broken by irritation.

“I’m the scythe, you idiot, I only help out!”

Maybe Rhaast didn’t knew that Sona could hear him. If he knew, probably would keep his mouth shut, unless he was trying to harm Kayn somehow. Knowing that creature so well, Sona knew it was exactly what it was doing. Kayn was only the most proper tool that Rhaast could find, and it needed him to achieve its purpose, but alone there were only so little Sona could do to help. First, she needed to get out of there, and then after start to think in an intervention. She had an advantage: those two didn’t get along, but needed each other, she only had to make Kayn lose his mind; and for that, nothing better than make out a fool, a proud man like him.

“What is the matter Shieda?” The voice that filled the hangar was like a melody, as if God itself sang a song. “Did you tired already?” She repeated Rhaast taunting. “Am I dancing too fast for you to keep up?”

That surprised Kayn in such a way, that he only stood where he was, completely mute, trying to understand what was happening. Sona hadn’t moved her lips, he knew that. On the other hand, the golden sphere floating near her head was trembling while she pronounced the words.

She speaks through the Ora. – He thought while facing her, his eyes moving from the Templar to the golden sphere and back. Maybe Rhaast had said something, but he was too distracted to listen and even more to notice the gigantic air blast coming at him; unable to fully dismiss the attack, he staggered and almost fell again. Due the terrible malfunctioning of his interface, was hard to keep attention to both his opponents. At the moment he tried to locate Yone to kill him, Sona waved her hands and created a whip with a sharp point, aiming right at Kayn’s head.

He only had time to push his head back, getting no more than a scratch on his cheek. Furious by that cunning move, Kayn jumped fast, getting close to Sona and wielded the scythe, ready to cut her in half upwards.

Yone was fast to predict that, but he was unarmed and could only jumped over Kayn, throwing both at the floor. The scythe escaped Kayn's grip, and Yone’s next move was a punch in his face. The Ordinal was well trained, but Yone was heavier and more desperate than him. It took a second for Kayn to recover his senses, but only half second for Yone to manipulate the air and throw Sona into an escape pod.

Another second for Kayn to decide if he should reach for Yone, or Sona. And it costed him everything. Because Yone hit the launch button and throwed Sona into space.

Kayn’s rage couldn’t be measured at that point. He pulled Rhaast, controlling his Ora's orb and stabbed Yone, trespassing him with all the rage he felt. The Templar was dead, but Kayn's rage wasn’t gone, so he pulled the scythe out of his body and chopped his head.

Yelling furiously while the non-traceable pod disappeared in the dark, he buried the scythe on the floor and fell on his knees, looking at all the Ora spilled on the floor.

#Odyssey #Stories #test #Chapter I

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janeofcakes · 5 years

Text

Chapter 108

** Watch out for violence and non-con touching. **

(John’s eyes open slowly, his lids like lead and vision blurry. He instinctively blinks a few times, waiting to come out of the haze of sedation. As things begin to clear, John glances around the room. He’s in a flat. The bed he’s laying on is the only thing in the room. Strangely, there seems to be an IV stand next to him with a bag dripping away steadily.)

(John’s head snaps around to his left shoulder. All of the events at the surgery slamming to the forefront of his mind. His shoulder is bandaged well, better than was managed at the surgery, and it is in a sling. His fingers are swollen and do not move much when he tries. His eyes are back on his shoulder. The damage from the shot is on par with the one that invalided him from the army. He could tell as soon as it hit him. Suddenly Sarah’s scream echoes through his mind. Shit, Sarah!

Intent on escape, John looks down his body to his right wrist and his ankles. As expected, he is tied to the bed. He twists his limbs to test the ropes. They are tight, but have some give. He can loosen them enough to slip his hand out, if he has the time. However, there is absolutely no way he has that kind of time. He starts struggling against his bonds anyway. He has to get out of here and to a hospital, and figure out where Sarah is.

Without warning, the door on the opposite wall swings open and James Moriarty slithers in confidently. John stills when he sees him and scowls. Jim, on the other hand, smiles with a vicious sort of affection and comes to stand at the side of the bed.)

JM: Hello again, love. How are you feeling? Good?

(John spears him with fierce blue eyes.)

J: Stop. Calling me that.

JM: What else would I call you? I’ve missed you. (pausing to tilt his head) Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

(He reaches for John, who jerks to escape his touch, but the ropes hold him fast. The sudden jolt of it rattles his shoulder and arm, sending a series of sharp pains throbbing throughout his upper body. John squeezes his eyes shut against the agony while Jim clucks over him.)

JM: Careful, love. Sudden movements will only make it worse.

(John takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It hurts to breathe. Jim’s hand is warm on his own. John’s gut clenches in protest. He ignores it, swallows hard, and opens his eyes. He turns his head to look at Jim and gives him a tight smile.)

J: You have to take me to a hospital. You don’t have a choice.

JM: (coyly) Oh, don’t I?

J: I’ll die without surgery.

(Jim slides his black eyes to the ceiling and touches a finger to his own lips. He makes a humming noise and feigns taking John’s words into consideration.)

JM: Do I? Mmm. (He meets John’s gaze with a taunting grin.) No. No, I don’t. You’ve been here for hours, love. The surgery has already been done. Not that I expected this detour, but Seb likes to shoot people.

J: What?!

(John’s face becomes a mask of fury and he struggles again, in spite of the pain. He strains against the ropes and lifts his head to glower at his captor.)

J: What the fuck did you do to me?!

JM: I didn’t do it myself. Oh, no, no, no. (shaking his head) It was much too complicated.

J: (in a dangerous whisper) Who.

JM: Don’t worry, love. He’s a doctor. A surgeon. The best. (John stares daggers through him, but Jim only shrugs.) He owed me a favor.

(He leans down close to breathe into John’s mouth. John wants to recoil, but won’t allow himself. Jim smiles and speaks quietly, looking lustfully into John’s eyes.)

JM: I made sure you were in very good hands…only the best for what’s mine.

(He licks a stripe from John’s jawline to his ear and then nibbles the lobe. John turns his face as far away from Jim as he can. Jim responds with a giggle and licks and then bites just enough to sting. John’s face remains stony as Jim pulls back.)

JM: Don’t look so angry. You wouldn’t have come if I’d asked you. (He pauses.) I was very cross with Seb for shooting you.

J: Let me go.

JM: You don’t seem to get the point.

J: (shouting) Let me go, you fucking psychopath!!

(Jim swings at John in a flash of movement and crashes his fist into the doctor’s temple, breaking the skin. He grabs John’s head with both hands, smearing blood onto John’s cheek. Jim holds his head tight and buries his tongue in John’s mouth, licking greedily and biting at his lips. When he pulls back again, he hovers close to John’s face. There is a smear of John’s blood on Jim’s cheek.)

JM: (whispering) You. Are. Mine. John Watson. Fucking. Mine. Just shut your fucking mouth (screaming suddenly) AND ACCEPT IT!!

(John’s eyes are wide and his stomach wretches. He swallows down the looming panic as he hears slow, heavy footsteps stomp in behind Jim.)

Mor: You all right?

(A horrifying grin spreads across Jim’s face and he straightens up.)

JM: Come over here, Seb. I want you to meet someone.

(A tall blonde with a diagonal scar marring one side of his face, just missing his right eye, steps out of the shadows and stands on the left side of the bed. He looks down at John with an indifferent expression that still manages to look like a glare. He carries a high-powered rifle in his hands.

Jim gestures gleefully from one man to the other.)

JM: Dr. John Watson. Sebastian Moran. We’ve known each other a long time, Seb and I. He’s been keeping an eye on you and our tall detective for me.

J: He was there. He pulled you from the water when we fell.

JM: Very good, John. I’ve always said you were smarter than Sherlock gives you credit. (shrugging and continuing in a playful tone) Not as smart as me. Or Sherlock. But that would be impossible for almost anyone.

J: (looking at Moran) You’re the gun that was always on Sherlock. (turning to Jim) Every time you threatened me on the island.

JM: Right again, John. (sucking in air between his teeth and murmuring) God, I want you right now.

(John’s eyes travel from Jim’s face to Moran’s and back. A fresh feeling of uneasiness spreads through his body. Buying time with Jim is simple enough. He tends to be a bit verbose with John and that can be used against him, but the added component of his gunman has John very unsettled. The man just stares with dead eyes and a silent steadiness.)

JM: As much as I’d love to take you right now… (He suddenly pounces on John and sucks hard enough to leave a mark on John’s neck. His teeth break the delicate skin when he bites. John winces and glares at Jim when he stops. He’s breathing fast, his eyes dilated.) We have some things to discuss, John.

(Jim licks the newly made marks, licks away the drops of blood, and then lets his hand drift to the ring on John’s left hand.)

JM: What’s this, love?

(John’s blue eyes are dark with hate as he glares at the man. He would have hidden the ring from Jim if he could. John knows full well it will only give Jim more reason to target Sherlock.

Jim’s eyes flare with barely contained fury. He takes John’s hand in his own and brushes his shaking fingers over the ring gently. His gaze locks onto John, his body beginning to tremble with maddening outrage. The man is like a coiled spring waiting to pop and, looking into those dangerous black eyes, John vows to do everything in his power to protect Sherlock from this lunatic’s wrath.)

JM: (trying to keep his voice even) Are you married, John?

(John doesn’t say a word, maintaining a death glare. Jim bares his teeth in a terrifying smile.)

JM: I’ll only ask you once, John.

(A moment’s silence and Moran is suddenly next to John’s head, pressing the barrel of his gun into John’s injured shoulder. John’s scream rips through the air, the spike of pain whiting out his vision for a few seconds. He gasps desperately, trying not to vomit. Moran presses harder.)

Mor: You speak when you’re spoken to.

(John chokes back the agony threatening to burst from his throat while Moran pushes harder.)

J: NO! I’m not married!

JM: I’m glad to hear that, love.

(Jim smiles pleasantly, but Moran does not let up. John squirms under the pressure.)

JM: Saves me the trouble of killing him before we leave.

J: (raspy) Leave?

JM: Yes, of course. You didn’t think we were going to stay right here in London, did you? I already tried that once.

J: (with a pained smile) I had hoped.

JM: (laughing) Oh, god, I’ve missed you. You know, I would’ve taken this off already if your hand wasn’t so swollen. I have plans for it. Sherlock will never take what is mine again.

J: (growling) I don’t belong to you.

(Moran presses down again and John cries out. His shoulder burns with a fiery pain he has not felt since it exploded in Afghanistan. His eyes snap shut. The barrel must be half way through his shoulder by now and John can feel reality slipping from his grasp as a result. He fights to stay conscious, opening his eyes to see Moran staring blankly at Jim.)

Mor: We could just cut it off.

JM: Jesus, Seb, you are ruthless. (turning to John and cupping his cheek) Sorry to disappoint, but I want my man whole.

Mor: (sighing) What the fuck is so special about this one?

JM: Oh, Seb, can’t you tell? He has everything I want. Looks, muscles, humor, and a soul.

(Moran slides his eyes to John’s face and watches him indifferently. He lifts his gun from where it digs deeply into John’s shoulder and pauses, then thrusts it back in with all the force of his weight.

John hears a scream and blacks out, but the pain pulls him awake within a few seconds. He stares at the ceiling just trying to breathe. Everything is surreal, spinning. Jim is yelling. The gun barrel is gone. John turns his head slowly toward Jim, feeling every movement in his shoulder now and wondering if what he sees is real or if he has passed out.)

JM: Damn it, Seb! I told you to knock him out. I told you he was coming with us. So, you shoot him. (He pauses and glares as if he’s debating shooting Moran himself this instant. Moran stands two steps back from John’s bed, rifle in both hands, looking battle-ready.) God, you are a loose cannon these days.

(Moran keeps a steady gaze on Jim and shrugs. Jim shifts his weight to one foot and rests a hand on his hip, the other pinches the bridge of his nose.)

JM: Just go. Go make sure everything is ready. We’re leaving in 30 minutes.

(The tall man nods sternly and smirks at John on his way out. John watches him go and then settles on Jim’s suited frame. He nearly flinches when Jim reaches over his body to have a look at his shoulder.)

JM: (biting his lip) Oh, dear. Looks like it’s bleeding again, but it won’t keep us from our travel plans.

J: (in a pained voice) And just where are we going?

(Jim smiles at John in an oddly disturbing way. His face speaks of an evil so dark and deadly, yet he wears a fond expression. John shivers. He suddenly feels laid bare, exposed with no shelter.

Jim strokes his fingertips up John’s chest and John blinks, off-balance. He hadn’t noticed his shirt was missing until that moment. As Jim crawls onto the bed with him, John takes stock and comes to find that pants are all he is wearing. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved that there is something else besides a sheet between himself and Jim, or to be nervous that those two pieces of thin cloth are the only things between them. He glares at Jim with a growing and, hopefully, hidden unease.

Now straddling John’s hips, Jim runs his hands slowly up and down the doctor’s muscled chest. His palm is especially gentle as it skims over the bandages covering his shoulder. He shifts his hips forward languorously, his hardening cock rubbing against John’s flaccid one. Jim tilts his head back and moans, almost chuckles in pleasure. His pupils are blown wide when his gaze settles on John’s face again.)

JM: I think I should tell you… (rocking his hips slowly) the doctor said you should be careful. You’ll lose your arm with another injury like this. Means you’ll have to cooperate with me. To. The. Letter.

(He bends forward, his hot mouth finding the nipple not hidden under a bandage. His tongue is soft and smooth, but its movements are rough and possessive.

John’s body tenses, even as his traitorous nipple stiffens into a hard nub. His limbs strain against the ropes that hold him. If he could just get free. If he could only hit Jim. God, how he wants to hit him.)

J: (jaw clenched) Get off of me, you sick fuck.

JM: (pulling back, their faces close) I’m going to take you far away from here and we’re going to be married.

(John laughs cruelly, even though it hurts terribly, and stares at Jim with blazing eyes.)

J: That’s rich. That really is. You don’t give a shit about me. You just want to take me away from Sherlock. Why the fuck would you tie yourself to me when it’s so much easier to just keep me around and fuck me whenever you feel like it? Why complicate it?

(Jim looks at him strangely and time seems to stop. It almost looks like disbelief…or confusion. John swallows hard and furrows his brow, his eyes widening. James Moriarty looks hurt. John just hurt fucking Jim Moriarty’s feelings.

Jim licks his lips and erases the expression as quickly as it came.)

JM: I thought I made that clear. I want you, love. And I always get what I want. (He bucks his hips into John. John feels sick.) I think you want it too. You want it so badly, but you hide it. Hide behind Sherlock. He can never give you what I can. He’ll never be good enough. Not for you. (His cock rubs mercilessly against John.) Come with me, John. Come for me.

(John sees his opportunity and takes it. With their faces so close together and Jim’s eyes closed in concentration, John pulls his head back as best he can and snaps it at Jim with a grunt.)

(Jim rears upward and back, stunned by the blow. With his arms flailing at his sides, his center of gravity is compromised and he nearly topples off of John to the floor, but catches himself and sits steadily on John’s hips.

Meanwhile, John struggles with all his strength and ignores the rising pain vibrating through his body. This is his only chance to get away, so far as he can see. God knows where Jim wants to take him. He probably won’t even know himself once he gets there and has no idea how Sherlock would ever find him. He can’t spend his life married to Jim Moriarty. He can’t.

John glances at Jim and knows he doesn’t have much time. He glances down at his right hand and twists his wrist as hard and fast as he can. The ropes burn marks into his skin, but he can feel them loosening. Suddenly, Jim punches him square in the nose, hard enough in his fury that John momentarily sees stars.)

JM: YOU BITCH!

(And his hands are around John’s throat, squeezing. John’s mouth opens, but no words will come. He pulls at his hand and thrashes his body from side to side as best he can beneath Jim. Pain radiates through his small frame, nearly unbearably, making it hard to focus.

Jim is squeezing with all his might, and shaking John so much that his head and shoulders bounce on the bed. John starts mouthing no at some point without realizing it. Darkness begins to cloud the outside of his vision. He looks up at Jim. He doesn’t want it to be so, but he knows his eyes are pleading with Jim to stop. And Jim’s eyes are black. He sees nothing, but red. And he’s shouting. Cursing John’s name and making promises. Dirty, filthy promises of what he will do to John when they are safely out of London. John suddenly questions his own will to live. He stops struggling. He lets his eyes close. The darkness threatening to take him. Why? Why should he try to live when escape is virtually impossible and his life will be the hell that is Jim Moriarty?

I will find you, John. I promise you.

John’s eyes snap open. Sherlock. Even the smallest possibility of a life with Sherlock Holmes is worth fighting for.

John renews the struggle with ferocious energy, all the while the darkness creeps further into his vision. He doesn’t have much time left. He meets Jim’s eyes, can see him still shouting, but cannot hear him. His eyes slip closed, but he forces them back open. No. No!

Please, god, let me live. Please…please.

John mouths the word along with his mind as air floods into his lungs. Jim’s hands loosen further and come to rest on John’s chest. John’s eyes flutter open.)

JM: God damn it. You are mine, John. You are mine. (his tenuous grip on self-control showing) I don’t want to hurt you.

J: (coughing and raspy) You could’ve fooled me.

JM: You push my buttons, John Watson. You push them so easily and you do it on purpose. You’re not afraid. (He pauses and looks at John in wonder.) You’re not afraid of anything. I’ve never met a man like you.

J: (hesitantly) Thank you?

JM: Oh, it’s a compliment. Most definitely.

(They study one another for a moment. Jim slowly, gently smooths his fingers through John’s soft, blonde hair. He licks his lips and tilts his head toward John.)

JM: I…think I love you. John.

(John stares in shock. Jim wipes the blood from John’s nose and upper lip carefully. He leans down and kisses John chastely, softly. He pauses with their lips nearly touching and breathes in John’s scent, delicious and warming. He pulls back to share a look John’s certainly never seen on his face before. Jim smiles and whispers decisively.)

JM: I’m going to fuck your mouth.

J: What?! No!

(White, hot panic fills John’s brain. He twists under Jim’s legs as Jim throws his jacket to the floor. He begins working in his belt.)

J: No! No, no, no! Get the fuck off me!

JM: What is it, love? Hasn’t Sherlock done it yet? It’s wonderful and your first time will be so special for us.

J: NO!

(John jerks his body and lifts his head, furiously, desperately. Fear and anger pulsing through his veins, he strains against Jim’s legs that pin him to the bed.)

J: NO! NO! STOP!

(Jim continues smiling and opening his flies. His licks his lips lasciviously and it makes John wretch. John looks around quickly for something, anything that will help him. He is nearly hyperventilating. He looks back at Jim in true horror. He cannot stop him. There’s nothing he can do to stop him.)

JM: (purring) Relax, love. Just lay back and relax. I’ll make it perfect for you.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD SHERLOCK!

J: SHERLOCK!!!

(There’s a sudden crack in the air and the smell of gun powder.

Everything stops.

John looks up at Jim in the silent, heavy air. His eyes look blank, but they meet John’s panic-stricken stare and blink one last time. Blood trickles from his mouth and lands on John’s chest in great, fat drips. Jim begins to tumble forward and lands on John’s body with a weighty thud that knocks the wind out of the doctor.)

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock fanfic #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #moriarty kidnaps john #john whump

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kenzieam · 7 years

Text

Phoenix Rising - Chapter 8 (Eric X OC)

Rating: M (violence/swearing/smut :p)

Genre: General/Drama/Angst

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

@emmysrandomthoughts @beautifulramblingbrains @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @bookwarm85 @frecklefaceb @mom2reesie @elaacreditava @badassbaker @captstefanbrandt @jaihardy @treeleaf @pathybo @beltz2016 @lilu46

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Finally, after a hellishly long time that to Fox felt like forever, she heard the doctor speak.

"Okay! Scan's done, prep for sedation!"

Fox kept her eyes locked on Eric's, crooning softly to him. The panic in his eyes had faded, but had been replaced with misery and anguish instead. He stared desperately at Fox, pleading with her to stay, please don't leave me alone like this.

I'm not leaving you baby, ever.

I'm so scared.

It rattled Fox to see that in Eric's eyes, he was Dauntless, he never admitted to fear; except for that one time, when he'd thought Fox was dead, and he'd quietly confessed that to her in the hospital as he'd held her and trembled.

"Sedation going in." Fox heard a nurse say, in her peripheral vision, she saw the nurse injecting another syringe into Eric's IV line.

Fox watched Eric's rock-hard muscles in his shoulders and neck relax, his jaw unclench around the tube down his throat. Fox saw the awareness rapidly leave his eyes, leaving blank, expressionless orbs and Fox felt a distinct chill; this was just like watching him die, the life leaving him.

"Respirator back on." A nurse clipped and Eric's chest began rising and falling mechanically. Whereas before, when he'd been awake and in pain, his breathing had been rapid and almost gasping, now it was measured, robotic, mechanical. Her fingers trembling, Fox reached up and gently closed Eric's eyes, brushing her fingertips tenderly down his cheeks, brushing away the remaining tears.

It hit like a slap across the face and Fox staggered. Instantly, two nurses were at her side, guiding her to sit and Fox dropped her head forward, gasping for breath. What have we done? What are we doing to Eric except torture him!

The doctor crouched in front of her, his expression resigned. Finally he spoke, 'I explained it would be difficult."

"Yeah, no fucking shit it was difficult!" Fox snapped, suddenly tempted to wring the doctor's neck. Seeing this in her eyes, the doctor moved out of reach.

Fox exhaled hard. Losing it right now did not help Eric, Fox needed to stay reasonable and somewhat calm. As horrible as what she'd just seen and experienced was, she had decided this, she'd chosen a hard road for them for a better payout at the end; and really, what choice did she have? Eric was the definition of Dauntless, he belonged in that faction, he deserved every chance to stay there. Fox's reaction, her feelings, were unimportant right now, what she was experiencing watching Eric was nothing compared to the agony he was being forced to go through. She looked back up at the doctor.

"I apologize."

The doctor nodded in acceptance, but remained at a safe distance. "We will redo these scans 24 hours from now."

"Was there any change yet?" Fox's voice was hopeful, maybe they wouldn't have to do this very often.

"No," the doctor said, his voice regretful, "but it is still early. We will give you a few minutes alone now." He nodded to the remaining nurses and they filed silently out.

Fox stood and moved her chair to Eric's bedside, sat heavily. She was still trembling slightly and took a deep breath to calm herself. Movement at her side made her look over her shoulder. A nurse stood there, holding out a bowl and cloth.

"Would you like to clean him up a bit?"

Fox nodded her thanks and accepted the bowl. Gently she dabbed at Eric's velvet skin, tenderly tracing the contours of his collarbones, trailing the cloth along his leadership tattoos. Re-wetting it, she smoothed across his cheekbones and down his jaw-line. He was so pale, grey, his skin blotchy now from the exertion. One of the twins kicked and Fox pressed a hand to her belly.

"I miss him too." She murmured. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fox tossed and turned all night. That skin-crawling robotic hiss from the respirator made for morbid white noise, but at least Fox knew that Eric was still breathing, she didn't need to stare across at him, trying desperately to find the subtle rising and falling of his chest anymore.

The next day was the same gut-wrenching torture, for both Fox and Eric. As the doctor had explained, Eric remembered nothing, and snapped awake as the sedation was reversed with the same panicked expression, the same rock-hard muscles struggling against the restraints. Fox was ready this time, was already leaning over him when his eyes flew open, blazing with panic, fear and pain. His shoulders and neck, the only muscles he still retained control of, strained against the heavy straps and Fox caught a whine of panic escape his mouth around the tube. Fox cupped his cheeks, stared straight at him. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Eric! Look at me!" Eric's eyes locked on Fox. The panic faded and was replaced with agony and desperate fear. What the fuck is happening to me? What the fuck baby! Why do I hurt so much? Why the FUCK can't I move?!

"You broke your back in an accident Eric. We're trying to help you-"

Fuck, it hurts!

"I know baby, I'm so sorry. Just look at me, breathe with me." Fox stroked his cheeks, her vision fading to a tunnel, holding only Eric in front of her, everything else faded away.

"I love you Eric."

I love -

A gargled scream escaped Eric as agony overwhelmed his features. The sentience in his gaze disappeared and a panicked animal appeared, eyes rolling in pain. Fox pressed her forehead to his, her heart racing.

"Eric! Eric please!" Eric was beyond hearing Fox, tears trailed down his temples and Fox couldn't stomach the misery in his eyes and pressed her cheek to his instead, stroking his opposite cheek with her hand and crooned wordlessly in his ear. Time dragged, Eric stopped trying to scream, his breath rasping around the tube, the muscles in his neck and shoulders quivering. Fox dimly sensed the medical team working around them, but they were a only a faint buzzing in the background.

Fox lifted her head to look at Eric. His red-rimmed eyes met hers and the expression in them brought instant tears to Fox's eyes.

"I'm so sorry baby." Fox murmured.

"Okay. Sedate him!" The doctor barked. Fox held Eric's tortured gaze as the light left his eyes again and one of Fox's tears dropped onto his cheek, glistening against his flushed skin. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Four and Tris came by on the third day, Maddie tucked securely in a blanket; and Four had held his little daughter as Fox bawled on Tris' shoulder. The compound, they said, was buzzing with anxiety and rumours. Four people had been in Eric's truck. Only Eric and another man, named Fisher, had survived. The driver and the man seated directly behind him had been killed instantly. Fisher was better off than Eric, but his face would never be the same, and the head injury he'd received had caused personality changes the doctors believed would be permanent. Max was keeping a tight lid on Eric's condition, revealing only that he remained at Erudite.

"It's so hard, the pain he's in when they wake him up."

Four handed Maddie to Tris and gently grabbed Fox's shoulders. He stared deep into her eyes, waiting until he had her full attention before speaking.

"You are helping Eric. It's hard now, but it will get better. You staying here with him is the best thing you can do for Eric right now. He needs you. Eric will be healed and walking again before the twins get here."

"You think so?"

"Sweetie, he's too fucking stubborn for anything else."

Fox snorted mildly. "You aren't wrong." She mumbled, lips pulling helplessly into a smile.

The next two days were the same. Eric's reaction once brought out of sedation was just as painful and miserable, and Fox's nerves were quickly rubbed raw, she could do nothing but hold Eric's face and murmur into his ear as he tried desperately to struggle, muscles like iron beneath his skin. She found herself snapping awake at night, sure that she'd just heard Eric scream in agony, only to realize it was the tail end of a nightmare, Eric's scream echoing only in her mind.

Finally, after the fifth scan was completed, and Fox pulled away from Eric's motionless form, wiping tears of misery off her cheeks did the doctor look over at her with something other than grim determination.

"It's starting to work."

Fox shook her head, sure she'd heard him wrong. "W-what?"

The doctor hurried to the near wall and motioned Fox to join him. Rising awkwardly, Fox moved to his side.

"Okay, this is the scan from two days ago," the doctor held up a large x-ray image. He pointed, "this is where the majority of Eric's spinal compression and damage is. This is the spinal cord, see how narrow it is? The cracks in the vertebrae surrounding it?"

Fox nodded, she'd seen these before, repetition did not make it any easier.

"Okay, I noticed a tiny improvement yesterday, but I didn't want to say anything in case it was wishful thinking on my part. But today, there is a noticeable difference." He held up another image and Fox saw immediately what he meant. The cracks were almost impossible to see, and Eric's spinal cord looked almost double the width of the first image.

"How much longer will we have to do this then?" Fox asked, her heart in her throat.

The doctor studied the image for another few moments then said, "if this rate of regeneration occurs, I estimate two more days." He gave Fox a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling and Fox found herself smiling back.

Fox waited nervously as the doctor reviewed the newest scans. It had been the two days the doctor had estimated and Eric was sedated again, but his pain had seemed to be less these last two times, his panic almost gone. He'd held Fox's gaze the entire time, concentrating solely on her, his determination almost palatable. He still fought the restraints, as much as he could, but he longer descended into the blind animal panic of before. Fox felt a tentative, fragile hope.

The doctor returned and Fox turned to face him, waiting. She tightened her grip on Eric's hand.

"We're done, Eric's spinal cord and vertebrae have regenerated."

"Fully? It really worked?"

The doctor smiled widely. "He is 100% regenerated, the treatment was a complete success."

Exhausted, Fox lay her head on Eric's shoulder and began to cry. "What now?"

"Once this last dose of healing serum has run through," the doctor gestured to an almost empty IV bag, "we will stop infusing the sedation and let Eric wake up on his own."

Fox raised her head and wiped at her cheeks, "how long will that take?"

"That's up to Eric, now that his body is healed, I don't estimate long."

"The serum is complete." The nurse reported, pulling the now empty bag down.

"Stop the sedation drip and monitor him. We'll pull the tube and get rid of the restraints when he starts to come around."

Fox's heart began to hammer, all this shit, all the pain and fear and anguish had all led up to now. What would Eric be like when he woke up? The doctor had cautioned Fox that it would take approximately a week for Eric's nerves to catch up, and during that time he would experience random, phantom pains; strange sensations and weakness until his body got back up to speed; not to mention just plain soreness from laying flat on his back for a week.

Biting her lip, Fox waited. The breathing tube had been pulled out, an 'unpleasantness' that Fox had looked away from, trying not to hear as Eric gagged and choked, and the restraints removed, Eric's body finally free to move on it's own. Now they just had to wait for Eric to wake up. The doctor and one nurse waited a few feet away, studying the monitors, and Fox knew they expected Eric to stir soon.

Fox studied Eric as she waited, the sickly grey tone to his skin was gone, and although his muscles had withered slightly, he still looked strong and powerful, dwarfing the hospital bed. Fox couldn't wait until Eric's eyes opened, and she could look into his stormy grey gaze without it being clouded by panic and pain. She wanted his lazy grin, that quirk in his eyebrow that made her heart race. Eric's head twitched slightly.

"Here we go." The doctor murmured.

"Eric?" Fox whispered, tentatively stroking his forearm.

Slowly, Eric opened his eyes.

#eric #jai courtney #divergent #eric coulter #eric divergent fanfiction #fanfiction #eric and fox #fire fox #embers and ash #phoenix rising

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thethespacecoyote · 7 years

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I don’t know what this is?? Rhys gets implanted with some kind of weird parasitic....thing? Jack has to help him get out and its kind of sad and weird?

I dunno what this is but it has parasitism/medical stuff/body horror/possession/implied violent surgical means of dealing with the problem sooooo. Yeah. Have fun with this maybe?

Jack’s not sure if he’s ever been this afraid.

He’s usually pretty good about not showing fear—every good CEO knew to keep vulnerable emotions locked way far away from the prying eyes of the public. Anger and brutal happiness were the only feelings he usually allowed to leak through, because he could use those as methods of intimidation towards his Hyperion underlings.

Fear in the eyes of others was useful, integral to the rule of a proper king. But the fear brewing within his own chest, now, made him feel nothing but helpless.

He was staring through the glass in his private medical bay, hands clenched tightly behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to press his palms against the glass, to get as close to the other room as physically possible, but he forced himself to scorn such a vulnerable position. He had already shown far too many leaks of panic to the equally anxious scientists and doctors shuffling in and out of the adjoining rooms; both tended to the patient on the bed and the brewing, ominous storm that was Handsome Jack’s worried gaze.

It had been less than twelve hours since Rhys had arrived home from a brief trip to Elpis, hunting down some moonstones to use for some programming chip or something. It was for an upgrade to his arm, Jack remembered that much. The omega had been fine when he had returned from the shuttle, kissing Jack and scooping up their excited children. At his usual level of strength and lucidity.

But in the middle of the night, Jack had awoken to pained whimpers at his side. He had grabbed Rhys once he’d properly shaken sleep from his eyes, tried to turn him over only to find that Rhys’ body was wrapped rigid around his middle. His eyes were screwed shut in agony and he was crying out without abandon, his entire body shaking in a way Jack had never seen before, not even in the depths of a bad heat.

He’d called a medical team as quickly as he could, soon after waking Tim up to watch over the boys as he swiftly carried Rhys’ body out of the penthouse to meet with the medics, unwilling to guide them through the complicated process of getting his door open. Rhys had been sobbing and grabbing his stomach the entire time, body twisting both in Jack’s arms and on the stretcher.

He wasn’t moving much, now, and hadn’t been for the past six hours. Jack stared through the glass to where Rhys was lying on the bed, hooked up to far too many strange-looking machines beeping in colors and patterns that Jack didn’t understand. All he knew was that Rhys wasn’t waking up. His body was pale, crossed with faint purple, veinlike rashes that concentrated around his abdomen, and its that that makes Jack’s frikkin’ skin crawl with fear.

Rhys’ stomach was swollen and misshapen, his skin covered in patches of bruises and swirled in ugly, neon-purple stretch marks that almost seem to glow even in the stark light of the medical bay. The hospital bedding was pulled down over his stomach, the abused skin covered in sensors and imaging probes as doctors and techs looked on with confusion and concern.

Jack’s neck prickled, because the omega looked pregnant, and he knew whatever was in there wasn’t his.

Some freaky alien—parasite—thing had decided to shack up inside of his mate and Jack wasn’t going to stand for it even if he has to reach inside of Rhys’ guts and yank the bastard out himself.

He watched as a tech reaches forward, lightly palpating on Rhys’ stomach, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What the hell is taking so long?” The alpha snarled as he barged into the room, scanning over the tons of fancy equipment that was, in his opinion, completely frikkin’ useless. “You shits have been poking and prodding at him for hours and you still can’t tell me what the hell is inside of him!”

“Ah—Handsome Jack, sir, please,” a young female tech stuttered, trying to keep her sensor wand pressed to Rhys’ stomach even in the face of the furious alpha, “it’s just that….well….see for yourself…”

As calmly as she could manage, the young tech flipped one of the monitors in the CEOs direction.

“So…? What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?” The alpha snarled as he squinted at the image. It looked like a whole lot of frikkin’ nothing. Some shapes on the display were defined, like the glowing shapes of Rhys’ bones, but little else was definite and not blurred to high hell.

“And….well, that’s the problem, sir. We can’t seem to get a proper reading on whatever is there. It’s just like….like an artificial blind spot, so to speak. It’s blocking our attempt to properly see inside him.”

The beta traced her finger around the blur.

“It does….seem that, whatever it is, it’s housed himself inside your omega’s reproductive organs. Interfacing with his circulatory system. That’s….that’s all we can tell at this point, until the labs get ba—“

The beta was cut off as Jack slammed his fist against the display.

“Great. Great! You’ve had six frikkin’ hours and that’s all you’ve had to show for it! Are you kidding!” The alpha roared, spit flying from his fangs. He tensed, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his temples, cursing to himself as he desperately tried to bring his emotions back under control. He looked up, face shadowed by his hands, dark and menacing at the beta.

“You have a mate, sugar?”

“Y….Yes sir.”

“No kidding. And pups?”

A bigger pause this time. “…Yes.”

One hand fell to Jack’s hip, the other grasping his chin as he glared at her.

“Right. Well, if you don’t figure out what’s wrong with him, then I’ll kill your mate and your pups. In fact, I’ll kill everyone’s mate and pups. We gotta deal, kiddos?” Jack growled, wondering for a moment if he should kill someone’s family now just to get a fire lit under them when a pained little whimper from Rhys’ caught his attention.

Jack was at his mate’s sight in an instant, his bond throbbing in shared pain as he placed his hands upon Rhys, just barely remembering to be careful not to jostle the IVs and sensors.

“Rhysie…” Jack croaked, carefully brushing the omega’s hair off his forehead. God, he was burning up, and it ached through Jack’s entire body. Another sad, shaky little whimper escaped the omega’s lips, his eyes fluttering and lips moving as if he wanted to wake up, but didn’t have the strength.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, it’s okay…” The alpha tried to sooth, his other hand finding Rhys’ hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He kissed his mate’s forehead, pressing as close to him as he felt comfortable with all the sensors and the pain the younger man was in.

His bond was braying at him, sensing the pain and distress his mate was in and trying to get him to do something, anything to protect Rhys. But Jack could do nothing but watch and hold his omega, stroke his head and kiss him and assure him everything would be fine.

And it would be fine, or else Jack would end the day with a lot of blood on his hands.

It was nearly another other before Rhys’ labs came back, and what Jack was told had the alpha reeling.

“Eridium? You’re joking.” Jack snapped at the doctor who had approached him, snatching the file out of his hands. “How the hell can he have Eridium in his blood? He’d be dead!”

“I….I don’t understand it either, sir, but there’s no doubt. We ran the blood several times, and come up with the same results.” The alpha nervously adjusted his glasses. Jack sniffed sharply. God, this guy smelled like he’d spent a day in the thresher enclosure. When was the last time these people bathed?

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do about that, huh?” Jack huffed.

“We….we need to operate on him as soon as possible, to get whatever is producing the Eridium out before something irreversible happens. It’s going to be difficult with our imaging software malfunctioning, but….we don’t really have a choice.” The man concluded grimly.

“Fine. You fuck up, I kill your whole family, blah blah blah, you know the whole drill.” Jack spat, pushing himself up from his chair and brushing past the doctor.

He re-entered the main room, eyes falling on Rhys’ form. God, he looked even worse than he had before, the purple veins spreading further over his body, growing thicker as they spiraled out from his swollen stomach. Jeez, it was even bigger than it had been an hour ago, irregular lumps standing out against his stretched skin. Jack swallowed around the thickness in his throat, hating the way Rhys’ looked. It was nothing like the charming, clever omega he knew. The one who’d given him two kids and countless nights of sex and sweetness and support beyond what he probably deserved.

He approached the omega’s bed, ready to say what would hopefully not be his last goodbye—when he noticed that Rhys’ eyes were open.

The next thing Jack knew, he was being thrown to the floor with such force that his breath was nearly knocked from his lungs. He let out a hoarse gasp, spots popping in his vision. He heard the machines violently crash to the floor around him, and before he could push himself up a new weight sat atop him. He felt long fingers try to grasp around his throat, and that finally galvanized him into action. He seized at the hands trying to wrap around his neck, pushing against insane strength as his swimming vision finally fixed on what was above him.

The first thing he saw were the eyes—soulless and burning and glowing bright, bright purple out of a far too familiar face.

“Rhys?” Jack shouted, fending off the omega as he spat and hissed, trying to get his claws back around the alpha’s throat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jaaaaaaaack.” A dark, rattling hiss came from the omega’s unmoving lips, the sound sending a chill up Jack’s spine. The purple, alien glow that wracked through Rhys’ body, lighting up the bruises and marks that had come to cover the omega’s skin, was both familiar and soullessly alien. Beneath the plasticine of his mask he could feel his deadened scar throb violently, and he nearly faltered and let “Rhys” throttle him again. He grit his teeth, roaring in agony as his scar and his bond both screeched at him, before he shoved “Rhys” off and away from him, sending the omega crashing into one of the downed machines.

Jack struggled to his feet, swaying in imbalance as he stared. Rhys’ nude body quaked and jerked on the floor, like it was being yanked by invisible strings. His swollen stomach was throbbing, violent and purple as long serpentine shapes shifted underneath his skin. The omega’s head snapped up, fixing Jack with a fiery stare that pierced straight through the alpha and send a cold shiver down to his heart.

“You should have diiiiied long agoooo.” “Rhys” rasped, crouching back on his haunches, his belly writhing with horrible fervor.

“Yeah?” Jack shouted, trying to sound tough, “you sound like one of my exes, babe!”

Jack’s fingers danced on the handle of the gun at his waist.

“Is that it? Frikkin’ jealous I decided to shack up with someone worth my time? Think you can just burrow into his guts to get some good ol’ Jack loving?”

A cold, cruel laugh echoed throughout the

“Your dynasty will doom the universe. It ends here.”

“Oh, so first you sneak inside my mate, and now you’re threatening my kids? You’re not making many friends here, buddy.” Jack snarled, eyes flicking briefly to the barrel of his gun. He watched “Rhys’” body tense, preparing to strike. Jack gripped the handle of his pistol, eyes flicking to the omega’s stomach.

“Rhys’” legs twitched a second before he was leaping into the air, teeth bared, claws outstretched and ready to tear Jack apart.

Thankfully, Jack was there to meet him, the golden bayonet of his pistol glinting in the blue light of the medical bay.

Tim brings the boys to visit a few days after that. Rhys is still pale and weak, but his face lights up the moment Cyrus and Jaxen enter the room. Jack has to stop Cyrus from jumping on his mother, warning the boys to be careful lest Rhys pop any of his stitches. Jack lifts both boys onto the hospital bed to cautiously lay next to Rhys, who welcomes the closeness. He presses his nose into his children’s hair, scenting them weakly before laying back against his pillow.

For the first time in days, Jack leaves Rhys’ side for something other than the bathroom. He shuts the door behind himself and Timothy, glancing about in both directions before he pulls the double close, breathing directly into his ear.

“Sub-level seventeen, holding cell nine. There’s a chest in there I need you to take care of.” Jack’s eyes are steely, cold shells as they lock with Tim’s. His voice wavers.

“Get someone disposable to fly it to the deepest, darkest pit in the universe and toss it inside. Then kill them.” Timothy’s eyes widen in confusion.

“Jack, that seems—why don’t you just airlock it?”

The CEO’s fingers slip around Timothy’s chin, pulling him in closer. His eyes flicker to the side, watching through the window as Cyrus and Jaxen cuddle up next to Rhys, holding the frail omega close as he kisses their cheeks.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

#text #its also fancy omegaverse cause i wanna hurt #fanfic #long post #fancy omega au #omegaverse #parasitic impregnation #basically #body horror #surgery #rhack #tftbl

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