A Sign
A/N: Karen hosted a small Secret Santa, and this is my entry that I wrote for @bullet-prooflove ! I hope you like it! It’s a Joe Velasco x reader fic.
Tags: guns, whump, mentions of death
Words: 1290
Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @beardsanddetectives
When Joe asked Sonny how he knew Amanda was The One, he was expecting something a little more concrete. “She was vulnerable, but so strong. And I knew,” Sonny had said. But what was Joe supposed to do with that? He wanted a sign, some divine calling that slapped him in the face with it! All this guessing and double guessing was driving him wild. Besides, you deserved better than that.
Better than me, his insecurities reminded him. Late at night, when you were tucked against him, fast asleep, he would lay there, going over your whole relationship in his mind. He loved you, so very much, but was that the sign? Did that mean you were The One, the end game, the final prize? He wasn’t sure. But he was damn sure that stringing you along while he figured it out was shameful—beyond shameful. But he couldn’t let you go, either.
“Please,” he muttered, looking at his ceiling while you dozed silently against him. “Please give me a sign that this is it—that I’m making the right choice here.” He waited in silence for an answer that wasn’t coming, then finally closed his eyes and hoped for sleep.
**********
“Come on, Joey! I’ll race you to Carisi’s office!” you declared with a laugh, dodging around the hustle and bustle of the city towards the DA’s building.
Joe rolled his eyes playfully before grinning. “You’re on!” He broke into a sprint, running past you. “Last one there buys lunch!” he called over his shoulder.
Instantly, you were bolting past him, and he watched, awestruck, as you easily outpaced him up the stairs to One Hogan Place. By the time he caught up to you, he was panting; Joe was a fit guy, but sprinting like that left him breathless.
“You keep me young, ya know that?” he said between breaths, his hands on his knees.
You chuckled, patting his back lovingly. “Yeah, my old man here can’t keep up.”
He shot you a warning glance, but you just laughed at him, making a grin split across his face. He loved your laugh, and he loved it more when he was the one that made you laugh.
You stopped laughing, but a smile was still on your lips, as you looked at him. But something caught your eye over his shoulder. You didn’t think, simply reacted.
“Gun!” someone screamed—was it you?—before you were pushing Joe back out of the way. A gunshot rang out, people started screaming, the security guards were trying to control the crowd while dealing with the gunman.
All of that was white noise as your legs buckled and you fell towards the concrete. Strong arms wrapped around you, and you vaguely picked up Joe’s cologne.
“Easy now—just lay down,” he muttered softly in your ear. He helped you to the ground, and it was only once you were lying down that you were confused.
You meant to ask, “why am I down here?” but all that came out was a weak, “why…?”
“Dunno,” Joe replied, pulling his jacket off and holding it to your abdomen. He looked over his shoulder at the guards, yelling, “call a bus!”
“Joe,” you whispered, and his eyes were back on yours.
“Just relax, okay, and stay with me. Don’t close your eyes, understand? Just talk to me.”
He pushed a little harder on your torso, and that’s when you felt pain unlike you’ve ever experienced before. You winced, gasped, and your vision flickered.
“Come on, stay with me, sweetheart. Tell me about…about what you want for dinner tonight, okay?” Joe said. Now that you were more aware, you could hear the tremor in his voice.
But darkness was coming quickly, and it was getting harder to stay awake. You knew what closing your eyes meant, and you didn’t want to die, not now.
“Joe, I’m scared,” you murmured, your mouth making the words without your permission. If those were your final words to him, you’d be kicking yourself in the grave.
“You’re okay, understand me? You’re going to be just…just fine. I’ve got you,”
You tried to blink away the tears forming, but with every shut of your eyes, the harder it was to open them. “I—I love you, Joe—never forget th—that.”
Slowly, you started to close your eyes. You could hear Joe’s panic as he tried to wake you, but it was too late—there was no way for you to fight it off any longer.
*********
Joe sat in the hospital chair, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and sobbing. The other officers mulling about, giving him kind words—it all meant nothing to him. The only person he wanted to hear speak right now was you, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Detective Velasco? Are you ready to see her?” a man in scrubs asked.
Okay, maybe there was someone else’s words he was waiting on.
He nodded as he stood, following the man. Officers gave him a small nod of encouragement as he left the lobby, and his heart jumped into his throat. The hallway to where you lay seemed to take a thousand years to traverse, but once he was there, he seemed frozen in the doorway.
There you lay, eyes closed. Your hair was a bit of a mess around your head, and your skin was ashy, pale. He hated seeing you like this, so…ghostly.
“She should be waking up any moment now, if you wanted to take a seat there,” the man said, indicating the chair by your bed.
Joe sat, and his leg immediately started bouncing. It was like a vice was constricting his chest as he watched you sleep. Up, down, up, down, the blanket over your chest went, proving that you were still alive, still there with him. But he needed more than that; he needed a sign that you truly, genuinely lived.
As if in answer to his unspoken prayer, you gently opened your eyes. As soon as they found his, your lips broke into a smile.
“Hey Joe,” you muttered softly. “Did I sleep in again?”
He chuckled to cover up the sob that escaped from him. “Yeah—you know the Captain’s gonna give you hell for sleeping on the job.” He quickly wiped his tears, and you reached out with a hand, silently asking for his. He sniffled quietly, linking his fingers with yours.
“No crying over me, okay? I’m still here, with you,” you said, stroking his knuckles with your thumb.
Joe squeezed your hand. “Look at me; you get shot and you’re the one consoling me. This is a bit backwards.”
You smiled warmly at him. “I’ll take a bullet for you any day of the week—and I’ll love you every second of the day.”
Suddenly, it all clicked for him—the strength while being vulnerable, the love he felt for you and vice versa. It all made sense; how did he not see it before? Of course, you were the end game, the final prize, The One. How could you not be? He wanted to spend every waking moment with you, wanted to grow old with you, wanted everything with you. And he had been stupid enough to think he needed some divine sign.
“You’re thinking awfully loud,” you said with a frown, eyes scanning his face.
Joe blinked to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just…I’m so glad you’re alright. You really scared me there.”
You squeezed his hand. “Sorry to scare you, my love. I promise I’m okay, though.”
“I know. I—I love you, very much. More than I could ever say. And I’m so thankful that I get you every day.”
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Phoebe! My reploid OC. (She's currently undrgoing a small redesign.)
Phoebe is a Virologist working for the Maverick hunters to look for a cure for the Sigma virus. She’s more often tucked away in the more obscure parts of the hunter HQ and her presence and work detail are top secret. As far as anyone knows beyond Signas, lifesaver and likely X, she is a mundane lab technician in the hunters research operations that occasionally helps out with reploid autopsies and other unpleasant sides of the medical ward.
(Continues in read more)
Phoebe has no currently known combat capabilities but is built as a specialist model for reploid medical science. One of her prime features is being able to modify her body temperature down as much to -80 degrees Celsius temps to handle medical samples without them thawing, while rapidly processing and analysing malicious codes and cataloguing her findings to a heavily guarded database. She has an internal drive built in to keep her research constantly up to date and backed up in case of emergency.
While she isn’t combat capable, she does have very quick reflexes and speed, opting to primarily evade and escape potentially violent encounters with mavericks. She is easy to startle and has an overly cautious exterior to her personality, however this doesn’t stop her from trying to be approachable and friendly, even having a cheeky, endearing playful side to those she lowers her guard around.
Built under the hand of the reploid scientist; Dr Elio, Phoebe is the youngest of 4 ‘Caladrius’ units built as specialist assistants for their father reploid unit. Each being a conduit and a ‘back up’ for the labs precious research data.
Elio however, gathered Sigmas attention by getting too close to comfort towards a huge breakthrough towards the cure. The doctor’s lab having long been infiltrated and spied on by the mavericks, Elio knew he had limited time, thus moved quick to protect his legacy and modified Phoebe hurriedly to act as a tool to do such.
As planned, Phoebe is the sole survivor of the inevitable attack upon the labs, dragged out the ruins barely alive and covered by the remains of her creator who sacrificed himself to keep her intact…. As well as everyone else to keep his research exclusive, unknown to Phoebe until later when she became suspect of being an accomplice to his plans where it was made clear to her that he was also responsible for the death of as many innocent reploids as the Mavericks were to avoid data leaks. Eventually her name was cleared, but of course she had no choice but to continue Elios research under the watchful eye of the hunters.
She strives for some semblance of a normal life and see’s her work with the hunters as a new chance to move on and redeem herself, while coming to terms with her creators actions and struggling with her guilt of being an unwitting tool to a horrible means to an end.
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