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chloelucia13 · 3 years

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Chapter 18: E Pluribus Unum

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x female!Henderson!reader

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: The horrid night at the hospital brought up many worries about you, especially for Jonathan. With the party’s advice, Nancy and Jonathan devise a plan to hopefully get you back to normal.

Word Count: 3720

Warnings: pretty angsty, a little fluff, language, violence, gore, discussions of possession and lack of autonomy, mentions of death, different perspective in italics

A/N: We’re getting close to the end of season 3! I’m thinking I’m gonna space these episode rewrites between some extra scenes I couldn’t fit into the story and some individual one shots, but let me know what you think! As always, my in box and tag lists and requests are all open! Love you!

Tags: @just-my-fandom @nightbu-g @neemonroe

As Nancy and Jonathan watched the creature shift form and trickle through the vents in the door, panic flooded through their veins.

Jonathan contemplated running back to you and waking you up, to beg for you to take control of that thing and save Nancy. But as he thought about it, the image of your panicked face flashed in front of his eyes. He saw how fearful you were that you were losing control, that you might put everyone at risk.

Ultimately, he decided that you being asleep was for the better, but that didn’t make this situation any easier.

He heard a thud from inside the room as he gripped onto an oxygen tank and began to ram it into the door handle to try and break it off. After that proved fruitless, he shifted his efforts to the glass window in the door, watching the webbing cracks grow longer and longer but the glass still didn’t cave.

The creature let out a blood-curdling roar as a herd of footsteps approached Jonathan. Defeatedly, he stumbled back and tried to heave in a few breaths as Eleven stepped up to the door and tore it from its hinges. As the door crashed to the ground, the creature turned to screech at the group that was herded in the doorway.

“Jesus,” Mike gasped as Max hissed out a hushed “what the fuck” under her breath.

The creature rushed towards El, who was now a few steps inside the room, and she quickly swung her hand to the side, effortlessly tossing the creature against the wall. Then another wall. And then the ceiling.

Screams fell from El’s lips and the monster’s pincer-like jaws as it collided with the floor, though it quickly gained its composure and scrambled to its legs. It began to crawl forward with a vengeance, but Eleven threw her hands forward and sent the creature flying out the window.

As soon as they heard the splat of the creature hitting the pavement, Jonathan rushed into the room to check on Nancy while the party rushed down the stairs. Once she gave Jonathan a reassuring nod that she was, in fact, okay, they followed the party down the stairs and out to the parking lot where the creature laid.

The creature dissolved into that strange coagulation of guts and gore once more before inching over to a storm drain and dripping down into the tunnels.

Once there was to remnants of the creature lingering on the asphalt, Jonathan’s worry shifted to you, who was still on the abandoned floor of the hospital.

“Y/N,” he spoke, quickly turning on his heel and heading back inside.

“She’s in there?” Max asked incredulously, her eyes tracking Jonathan as he nodded quickly before disappearing behind the hospital doors.

His footsteps echoed throughout the stairwell as he rushed up the stairs two at a time, pushing through the door to the third floor. Panic was clouding his brain, hoping that you were still there and you hadn’t slipped away before he could try and help you. God, he just wanted to make you okay again. Make you you again.

As he rounded the corner to the room where you laid, he could barely even feel his feet from how overused they were. Nevertheless, he pushed forward, calling your name as he entered the room.

Luckily, you were still on the floor, and the inky veins seemed to have faded from your skin. You were so still, so motionless, though, as you laid on the cold linoleum that it worried Jonathan.

He gently knelt beside you and rolled you onto your back, one hand cupping your cheek while the other felt for a pulse on your neck. Once he felt the stead thrumming under his fingertips, he let out a sigh of relief. His hand left your cheek to brush a few strands of hair away from your face, letting his eyes soak in your relaxed features for only a moment before pulling you into his arms and lifting you off of the floor.

***

Your eyes began to flutter open from the movement, a small sigh falling from your parted lips. “Jonathan?” you whispered, panic beginning to seep into your veins.

He glanced down at you as he walked, each limping step making your head loll slightly. “Hey, it’s okay,” he hummed, clearly sensing the anxiety that had took hold.

Your gaze flickered over every bruise that marred his face. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I couldn’t take control. I couldn’t stop it.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get this thing out of you.”

You shook your head fervently, gripping onto his shirt. “Jonathan, you can’t. I’m gonna hurt you. I don’t have enough energy to keep the flayer at bay.” To say that you didn’t have enough energy was a sever understatement, though. You felt as though you’d been awake for days and had just run a marathon. Your body was screaming for sleep, your eyelids already beginning to droop.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Jonathan, I don’t want to hurt you. Please.”

As he stepped out of the stairwell and through the exit of the hospital, he softly shushed you. Your mouth opened to argue, to beg for him to leave you and protect himself, but it fell shut along with your eyelids as the gentle rocking of his steps and his voice lulled you to sleep.

***

The drive to Hopper’s cabin was tense and silent, everyone in shock of what had just occurred. That, and the fact that they were harboring the leader of the flayer, the creature that was on a mission to kill.

Jonathan had volunteered to sit in the back of Nancy’s car with you on the ride there so that he could keep an eye on you, and though Nancy gave him a look of worry, he proceeded with his plan.

He sat with your limp body leaning against him, your head resting against his shoulder and your open mouth fanning your warm breath on his neck. With his girlfriend in the driver’s seat, his mind wandered back to the night before when your lips were pressed against his. He thought about the many times he had woken up with you in his bed, when both of you had fallen asleep to a mixtape that was still in the tape deck by morning. When the sunshine fell perfectly on your face that had a ghost of a smile lingering on it. When your legs were tangled with his and your head was resting on his chest, warm huffs of air falling from your lips and mingling with his breath due to the close proximity.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt at ridding himself of the thoughts, though all he could see was that rare glimpse of peace that he’d witness when you slept.

With a huff, he looked down at your sleeping form and watched your shoulders rise and fall with steady breaths.

He wished he could see the flutter of your eyelids as you dreamt, but they were hidden behind a scrap of fabric as a precaution in case you had awoken.

Once Nancy parked in front of the cabin, Mike assisted Jonathan in carrying you out of the car and into the house. Gently, the two boys laid you on the bed of the spare bedroom that was tucked away in the very back corner of the cabin.

As Jonathan slowly closed the door behind him and locked it, Mike gave him a look. “What?” Jonathan whispered, tucking the key into his back pocket.

“You should probably tone down the heart eyes a little bit,” Mike advised, arching a brow at Jonathan.

Jonathan’s brows furrowed in bewilderment, glancing around quickly before stepping close to Mike and lowering his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, are you that oblivious?” Jonathan shrugged, and Mike let out a sigh. “It’s super obvious that you’re in love with Y/N-”

“I am not!”

Mike stared at him silently with a look of extreme doubt, and Jonathan’s shoulders slumped. “Just try to tone it down a bit, dude. For Nancy.”

Guilt washed over Jonathan’s features at the mention of Nancy. “I just... I don’t know what to do.”

Mike gave him a look of sympathy. “Whatever you do, just don’t hurt either of them.”

Jonathan nodded silently and the two boys parted ways.

***

You woke with a start, searching around the room with wide eyes and a racing heart. You shoved the heavy comforter off of your body and scrambled to the carpeted floor. “Hello?” you called out as you balled your fingers into fists.

The floor creaked with each step, but everything else was silent. “Hello? Where the fuck am I?” you called out once more, stepping up to the door and trying the doorknob. The door didn’t budge, and your breath new fell from your lips in short bursts as panic took over your body.

Your fists collided with the door a few times, letting out a scream of frustration when the wood didn’t give. “Goddammit, let me out!” You threw your body against the door, but the door still held strong. “What the fuck are you going to do with me! Let me out, you son of a bitch!”

***

On the other side of the door, everyone who had fell asleep in the living room woke up from the pounding and the screams. Each person glanced to someone else in the room, silently communicating their panic from the adverse reaction you were displaying to being confined into an unfamiliar room.

Jonathan and Nancy quickly rose from their spot on the couch, Jonathan signaling at everyone to stay quiet while Nancy grabbed onto the rope that they had found the night before. Silently, both teens approached the door with caution and light footsteps.

*** Your outburst easily tired you, and you stumbled back onto the bed with a huff, your gaze fixed in a glare on the door.

It seemed to be only moments later that the door creaked shut, two figures slipping through the opening before slamming it shut once more. The two people slipped into the crack of sunlight that shone through the blinds, revealing themselves to be Nancy and Jonathan.

“Get away from me,” you hissed, shuffling back into the furthest corner of the bed. The two exchanged a look before Jonathan turned his back and headed over to the desk in the room that was accompanied by a wooden chair.

Nancy gripped onto your ankles and pulled you out of the corner, dragging you against the sheets and causing them to bunch up underneath you. You let out a growl and kicked with all your might, but she had already tied a quick knot around your legs. With another harsh tug, she yanked you off of the bed and onto the floor. You let out a gasp of pain, feeling all of the air escape your lungs and leave you winded.

Jonathan pulled the chair away from the desk and set it behind you and Nancy before rushing over to Nancy and assisting her in lugging you onto the chair. With your free hands, you gripped onto Jonathan’s shirt and tugged with all your might in an attempt to pull him to the ground, but to no avail.

The two sat you in the chair, and Nancy quickly freed Jonathan’s shirt from your grip. A huff left your lips as Nancy yanked your arms behind your back, tying them together before knotting it to the chair. “Let me go,” you said simply, showing no emotion whatsoever. Jonathan clenched his jaw, handing Nancy the other set of ropes for your legs. “Oh, I’m getting the silent treatment now?” You shook your head, leaning forward as much as your binds allowed you. “I said. Let. Me. Go.”

“Just ignore her, Jonathan. It isn’t her,” Nancy said, finishing up the binds on your legs before pushing herself to her feet. “I’m gonna get the heaters.” With that, she left.

“Isn’t her? Hell, I’m just voicing her concerns, her needs. And what she needs is for you to let her go. You don’t wanna break her heart, do you, Johnny? Not like all the other times you had?”

“Shut up,” he hissed through his teeth, eyes trained on the blank wall behind you.

“Oh, he speaks!” You flashed him a sinister smirk. “And why exactly should I shut up? I’m just speaking the truth-”

“You don’t know the truth-”

“Oh, but I do. I have access to her thoughts, her memories, everything. Like I said, I am her. And god, did you hurt her. When you saved Nancy from the Upsidedown but not her. When you ditched her for Nancy all those times, so you could ‘help Nancy,’ when little miss Y/N was the one needing help all along.”

He gulped, clenching his fists.

“All the times she let you run off to do god-knows-what with Nancy while she watched the kids. Watched your own brother.”

“I said, shut up-”

“You know she wished she died that night, in the tunnels. She didn’t want to be the sad damsel in distress anymore, didn’t want to be saved.”

Tears began to cloud his vision, and he turned on his heel to face the opposite wall.

“She wished she was with you. Wished she was in Nancy’s spot, helping you and your brother. But no, she had to go with the kids and Steve, had to be on the brink of death. She had to wait for you to help her, the thing she dreaded the most. You seeing her weak.”

“You’re lying. S-She doesn’t feel that way-”

“Then why do you feel so guilty? It’s tangible, I can almost taste it.” You leaned back, eyes trained on the back of his head. “And then you got a job at the Post with little Miss Nancy, leaving Y/N to work at the public pool with Billy. Leaving her to get possessed by the flayer. By me. Can’t you see, Johnny boy? This is all because of you. All her pain, her aching, because of you.” You chuckled softly, a sinister sound that reverberated in your chest. “Because of you, she was left vulnerable, open to being taken by me. I could tell, no matter how many times she cried for you, for anyone to help her, she needed this. She needed this little… Boost of confidence, let’s say. A lack of a filter.”

He sniffled, shaking his head softly. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“You don’t have to, but I know you do. Because you know it’s all true.” You wiggled your fingers and toes, trying to get some circulation back into them. “You know that saying, sober thoughts are drunk actions? Think of me as the alcohol. I take her over, get rid of her filter, and let the truth run wild.”

He spun back around and stepped towards you, crouching down so he was eye-level with your face.

“That’s it. Look at what you did to her. Look at the scars.” You pursed your lips, smirking slightly. “She scares people. She doesn’t want to go outside, doesn’t want to be a spectacle, a walking freak show.”

“She’s not-”

“Did she ever tell you that she has to wear glasses because of her eye?” He shook his head. “She’s too scared to wear them around you. Doesn’t want to seem weird. She has constant headaches because of it, because she can barely see out of her one eye without them.”

His lower lip quivered slightly, his hand inching up to cup your face.

“She can hear you, Johnny. She can see you.” Another bone-chilling laugh. “She’s begging me to stop, but what’s the fun in that?”

“Screw you.”

The door squeaked open and shut, Nancy stepping in with a couple more heaters. “Sorry it took so long, I had to dig them out,” she explained, stopping when she took notice of the odd scene in front of her.

“Good. Let’s get this out of her,” He sighed, standing up straight and helping Nancy plug everything in.

You sat silently, a near-pout on your face as the pair worked on plugging in the multitude of heaters that Nancy had found. “I didn’t know you wanted me gone so badly,” you sighed, giving Jonathan a puppy-dog-eye look as he risked a glance at you.

The room already began to feel at least ten degrees warmer as all of the heaters got to work, and you glanced down in disdain at the sweater and jeans you wore. Nancy and Jonathan took a seat on the bed, their eyes trained on you as if you were a caged animal.

“So what did you guys do the last time you watched someone get exorcised?” you hummed, that fake smile settling on your lips once more. “Did you makeout, maybe sneak off to do god-knows-what together? It seems that that’s what you both are best at when people need your help.”

Nancy’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What?” she whispered, clearly bewildered by your bold statement.

You cocked your head to the side, feigning innocence. “Don’t you remember? Last year, you and Jonathan had gone off and disappeared while little Will was basically on his deathbed. All he needed was an older sibling, someone to comfort him, and Y/N, had to take up that role because you two were too busy.”

“We were trying to get justice for Barb-”

“And as a result you almost got everyone killed.”

“Shut up!” she screamed as she shot up from her seat and leaned close to you, close enough for you to see the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. “If you say another word, I’m duct taping your mouth shut.”

You clenched your jaw and stared her in the eye, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. Jonathan reached forward and gripped onto Nancy’s forearm, prompting her to look back at him. They exchanged a glance and she contemplated their silent conversation for a moment before settling back down onto the bed.

The room grew warmer and warmer and the tension grew thicker and thicker. Everyone had stayed silent during that time, but that didn’t mean that you were shooting glares at the pair the whole time.

But that heat definitely began to worm its way between you and the flayer, acting like a knife between flesh and meat as it slowly cut away the flayer’s vicelike grip on you. However, as the flayer’s hold on you began to slip away, the days of sleep you’ve missed started to catch up with you.

Your eyelids drooped as sweat trickled down your face, your breaths ragged and hitched from the dry heat and lack of water. “Jonathan, Nancy, please just let me go,” you cried, weakly wiggling your hands and feet in their restraints.

“Y/N, you know we can’t,” Nancy answered, looking away from you so she wouldn’t feel guilt from the state you were in.

Nancy and Jonathan were suffering too, sweat making their clothes cling to them like a second skin. But they knew that if you were stuck in this miserable heat, they had to be too. They had to save you, no matter what it took.

Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a tired cry of frustration. “Please! I-I can take control of the mind flayer again and I can keep it from you guys! I can kill it! Please, just let me go!”

Nancy could tell that Jonathan was weighing the outcomes of each option, clearly caving in from the guilt and the heat. “Y/N, we need to get this thing out of you,” Nancy spoke up. “You only have so much control. We can help you.”

“You can’t help me!” you screamed, startling the pair and making them recoil slightly. “Just let me go! Let me go, you sons of bitches!” You began to violently thrash in the chair, prompting the two to get up and try to hold you down. Your screams grew louder when the attempted to restrain you, and they shared a horrified look when those familiar inky veins began to snake up into your skin.

Your strength grew as the flayer slowly slipped into power as a last ditch effort to continue inhabiting its host, and with one quick yank of your arm, the binds snapped from your wrist. Nancy scrambled to pin your wrist down, but once your other hand freed itself from its confines, both Nancy and Jonathan knew that their efforts were fruitless.

Jonathan rushed to help Nancy, both of them wrestling to keep you restrained while you fought against them with all your might. Your sweat-slicked skin seemed to prove advantageous as you quickly slipped from their grip, yanking the binds around your ankles and breaking them free.

The pair shared a panicked glance as you rose from the chair and shoved them both off of you. “Leave me alone,” you growled, your voice uncharacteristically deep as those black veins protruded from your skin. “Or there will be consequences.”

Jonathan hurried over to you and gripped onto your wrist, giving one last effort to try and help. That clearly was a mistake, though, as you snatched your arm back and landed a quick right jab to his jaw. He stumbled back and clutched his jaw, but as he looked up at you, a flash of guilt and fear could be seen in your eyes. It left as soon as it came, and he hopelessly watched as you slammed your fist into the window and escaped through the newly made exit.

***

Your eyes drooped with exhaustion as you sat on the landing of the stairs, head leaning against the railing as you stared out at the crowd of the flayed that were neatly lined up in single file rows.

“That-that girl,” he spat, pacing back and forth behind you. “She caused all of this.”

You nodded slowly, your face blank and emotionless.

“But we’ll win. Soon, we’ll talk control. We’ll end her, them, everyone. Everything will be ours.”

“When?” you hummed, slowly lifting your head from the railing to look up at him.

“Soon.”

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writingpaperghost · 3 years

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There is a Me Who Can Become Strong (Chapter 1)

Emu liked working at Seito University Hospital, intern or not. Sure, his coworkers at the CR were a bit… interesting, but not in the bad way. Saki was, overall, pretty nice, even if she could sometimes get really stern. The director was a bit silly, but still took his job seriously. Technically, Nico didn’t work with the CR, and she was often a bit much. Same with Taiga, who was really set on getting the Gashats, for some reason. Kiriya had a bit of a skill for getting into Emu’s personal space, but it wasn’t too bad.

Everything seemed to have been going well, but with the sudden increase of Game Disease cases, it becomes clear something is happening. Unfortunately for Emu, the past doesn’t stay in the past.

My newest project, that struck me like a lightning bolt and made me go, "Huh, that's actually a great idea". Now, you may be asking, "Are you really going to rewrite all of Ex-Aid"? The answer is: Yeah, probably.

It gets angsty, unsurprisingly.

Chapter 1: I'm a Kamen Rider!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32857183/chapters/81535450

Emu liked working at Seito University Hospital. He liked the people – the nurses were kind and liked him – he liked seeing the children smile when he’d send them back to their parents (unbidden, he’s often reminded of the words that changed Emu’s life). During his breaks, he’d help entertain the children, by playing games for them. He was really good at video games (in the past, Emu Hojo was Genius Gamer M. It’s been a while since he’d been, but now he was something just as important, Doctor Emu, even if he was still just an intern). The pediatrics ward had become like a second home to him.

---

Two figures stand on a rooftop, looking out at the city.

One had messy light brown hair, which held the appearance that there had, at some point, been an attempt to comb it. His attire was probably the most interesting part about him. He wore a reddish brown jacket, the shirt underneath having one sleeve of a similar color, the right sleeve a green color, and the rest being greyish green in color. He had a necklace of fangs around his neck.

Beside him, stands the other man, wearing a hoodie, clearly inspired by Mighty, the mascot of the up and coming game from Gemn Corporation, Mighty Action X. It was pink, like Mighty, and as he had the hood up, one could see the spikes of hair, just like Mighty’s. Beneath, he wore a Mighty Action X shirt, which had Mighty and his hammer printed on it. Notably, he wore bright pants, cyan with orange stripes, his whole outfit being leagues brighter than his companion’s. His face is obscured by his long bangs and the hood of the coat, but one can make out the faint glow of red from where his left eye, the one unhidden by his bangs, is.

“I can’t believe they finally let you out,” The first of the two said, sounding terribly unamused regardless.

The one in the Mighty hoodie responded in a slightly joyful tone, though subdued, “He said that they thought I had enough control that I could stay calm.”

The first scoffs, “Sure,” He said, “Well, it sounds like today will be big, anyway.”

“Big?” The second asks, “I wonder what they have planned?”

“I guess we’ll find out,”

---

Unfortunately, Emu was a bit clumsy – he tried his best but it was just so easy to catch your foot on even the smallest of things! This clumsiness usually only affected him but sometimes… Well sometimes, he ended up with a towel thrown in his face thanks to his patient. He’s not sure why, but Sota had thrown it and used it as a distraction to run away. Emu, to his credit, got the towel off his face and gave it to the nurse, rushing off after him.

He follows Sota out of the hospital and through the nearby parts of the city. Unfortunately, either his luck or his coordination ran out, and his foot finds a cart, for moving big boxes. Then he goes on an un-asked for rollercoaster ride down the hill, where he can see but a single person at the end. He found himself instead wondering who’s Rollercoaster Tycoon ride he’d wandered into – no, no, focus! The woman!

He crashes into the suited woman, sending her briefcase flying into the street. Scrambling up, Emu frantically apologizes, “Sorry! I tripped! Sort of!”

The woman sighed, “Pay better attention,” She scolded, then stood, going to pick up the contents of the briefcase, which had been opened by its fall. Emu stands and looks around, ignoring the strange device in the briefcase in favor of looking for Sota. He had to be somewhere…

He sees Sota, standing with something in his hands. It’s pink, shaped a bit like some kind of cartridge. He thinks, in the back of his mind, that it looks familiar, but he doesn’t focus on it much. He runs over, “Sota!”

Sota turns to look at him, and Emu realizes he’s caught the attention of the woman too. “I want to play it,” Sota said, looking between the two of them and the cartridge. Emu squints, able to make out the logo on the cartridge. Mighty Action X, Gemn Corporation’s new game, which was to be released today. Emu had been looking forward to it, planning to pick up a copy after he was done at the hospital today. But why did this woman have this strange cartridge with her.

The woman’s lips settle into a stern expression, “I’m sorry, but you can’t play that.” Reluctantly, Sota allows her to take the cartridge away, but there’s something in his eyes that hurts Emu. He knows it’s not really the woman’s fault, but for some reason, Sota must really want to play Mighty Action X.

Yet, only a few moments after the woman took the cartridge, Sota collapses, some kind of orange bubbles briefly appearing in his neck. Something about it bugs Emu greatly, like a nagging sensation in some part of him. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just that Sota had collapsed.

The woman’s reaction was telling enough, whatever this was, she knew. Together, he helps her take Sota back to Seito, down into some underground rooms, which Emu didn’t even think existed. He wants to follow the woman with Sota through the room, but he’s stopped by a man he quickly recognized as the hospital director. “Please just leave and forget about this,” the director had said. He hadn’t seen the man much, but even Emu knew what he looked like. It made sense that the director knew about whatever this place was, but somehow actually seeing him was startling. Then, the director entered the room, leaving Emu standing outside of it.

Something in him wasn’t letting him leave, though. He can’t help but recall the expression on Sota’s face when he held the cartridge, excitement, and then how it fell when the woman, he knew her now as Nurse Asuna, took the cartridge. Recalling the words he’d chosen to live by, Emu had made up his mind. He’d go and he’d help Sota, even if it was just something small. He may not be able to cure whatever disease he had, but he could make him smile. (A part of him was still trying to knock the nagging feeling.)

Luckily, neither the director nor Asuna must have been used to having other people in this area, as they hadn’t locked the door. That meant Emu could easily slip into the rooms that belonged to the part of the hospital known as the Cyber Rescue Center.

---

The director is sitting at the table in the upper room of the CR when he informs Asuna, “Saki will be here tomorrow,” He says, “She’s a perfect fit, I know Director Hinata agreed it would be good to find this Genius Gamer M, but would bringing someone who might not even be familiar with Game Disease truly a good idea?”

Asuna huffs, “Of course, Game Disease is connected to games,” She looks at him, “Who else would be suited to fight it than a genius gamer?”

“But how are you going to find him?”

“I bet I’ll find him at the Mighty Action X launch party, it’s no secret that he’s a fan of Gemn’s games.” Asuna informs him, picking up the briefcase with the Gamer Driver and Mighty Action X Gashat. “I’m going to go find him.”

With that, Asuna leaves the CR, determined to find someone who had barely appeared in the gaming world for six years.

---

It wasn’t hard for Emu to find the patient room, it was right across from the entrance. “Sota?” He called, seeing the small form in the patient’s bed. “It’s me, Emu, you doctor from earlier.”

“What do you want?” The boy asked in a sour tone.

Emu walks over and pulls a chair up to the bed, sitting down at Sota’s side. “Why did you run away earlier?”

“It’s none of your business,” Despite his protest, Emu can’t help but wonder…

“Do you like video games?” Emu asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” Sota responded weakly, pulling out a Mighty keychain. “I was really excited for Mighty Action X…”

“The launch party is today,” Emu notes, “Did you want to go? Is that why you ran off.” Sota doesn’t verbally answer but nods regardless. It’s then that Emu had his idea, as crazy and questionable as it was.

Emu wastes no time in telling Sota his plan, “How about we go? You can play Mighty Action X,” He said, “After all, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been cured or not if you don’t smile.”

Sota lit up at the idea and Emu put his plan into motion. No one seemed to notice that he and Sota left, something that bugged him, but he was thankful for. They make their way to the launch party. There were a lot of people, which perhaps a few years ago would have made him greatly uncomfortable, but now didn’t bother him at all. Sota seemed so excited as they waited in line so he could play Mighty Action X (there was a pang of jealousy, but he could wait until later today, like he initially planned. In the past, maybe Emu would have cleared his schedule to go to a launch party for a Gemn Corp. game. He’d done it before, but now he just couldn’t. He was busy now, he had more than just game).

All was going well until…

“You!” It was Nurse Asuna. Emu feared her wrath for bringing Sota here ever so slightly, but he was certain that this was the solution. “And Sota! Why did you bring him here? How?”

“It was the stress from missing the game’s release,” Emu quickly explained, “I think that’s why he suddenly got sick. When you’re stressed, it’s harder for your immune system to fight off sickness. Bringing him here should cure his sickness and make him smile.”

Asuna did not look pleased with that explanation, “His sickness isn’t so simple,” She reaches and grabs Sota’s hand, “Come on Sota, we’re heading back to the hospital.”

That strange feeling returned as Sota yelled, “No! It’s almost my turn!”

“Please,” Emu begged, “Just a little longer than he can go back,” He didn’t want a scene to be made, nor did he want Sota to get so stressed. The strange feeling was growing.

“We need to go now,” Asuna continued to tug at Sota. At least, until Sota started glitching and those strange orange bubbles from before to appear again and began to grow. Soon they took the form of some kind of monster. Now, the strange feeling was stronger than ever.

Emu’s not sure what to say, at first, before he finds himself saying, “What’s that?”

Asuna answers, “A Bugster,” she says, “A manifestation of his Game Disease, which is a computer virus that can effect humans.” There’s a lot there in that simple statement, but Emu chooses to just file it away for further scrutiny later.

“What can we do to help him?” He was still Sota’s doctor, he still needed to see Sota smile.

Hesitantly, Asuna opens the briefcase, revealing the device and cartridge once more, responding, “These could fight the Bugster and save him,” She says, watching as Emu raises his hand and comes close to the device, “But only if you can use them.”

Looking at the strange device and cartridge, Emu supposed there was only one way to find out. He takes them, placing the device - a belt of some kind - around his waist and clicked the button on the cartridge. He places it in the slot on the belt and -

Error

He pulls it out, clicks again and puts it back in.

Error

Damn.

His mind flashed to Sota. Device or no, he’d that boy one way or another. He’d see Sota smile.

He takes the belt off, pulling the cartridge out and hands them to Asuna, though the cartridge doesn’t end up leaving his hand.

With his free hand, he lunges forward, reaching towards the monster and grasps. “I’ll change Sota’s fate with my own hands!” He means every word. If no one can help Sota, then Emu will. As he grabs at the monster, his hand and the part of the monster he’d grabbed were glitching. Then, the monster changed. Now it looked like… Salty? From Mighty Action X?

His hand tightens around the cartridge and he accidentally pressed the button once more.

Mighty Action X!

Let’s game! Metcha game! Mucha game! What’s your name? I’m a Kamen Rider!

Around him, a wheel of portraits appears, like a player select screen. He can’t make out the features on most of them, but picked the one that lit up, in front of him.

Level up! Mighty jump! Mighty kick! Mighty-Mighty Action X!

Around Emu, red and blue armor forms, and in his hand appears some weird combination of a gun and an axe. He still held the cartridge in his other hand.

Behind him, Asuna gasps.

Placing the cartridge into the holding slot at his side, he runs towards Salty, slashing with his axe. Salty, seemingly startled still by his existence, further startled by Emu’s transformation, doesn’t have much time to try to dodge. He follows his slash up with a kick, knocking Salty back slightly. Once he’s knocked Salty back, a bunch of strange grunts dressed in chef uniforms appeared.

“Some low level grunts?” Emu wonders, “Well, that’s not too bad.”

He breaks one of the blocks that had spawned when he used the cartridge. A token appears, with the image of a person running quickly. Emu grabs it and feels the power rush through his body, able to run quicky and cut down the grunts. “And powerups too!”

Now it was just Emu and Salty, staring each other down. He quickly switches his weapon to gun mode, shooting at Salty, “The one who’ll cure Sota will be me, Genius Gamer M!” While Salty was stunned, he switched his weapon back to axe mode, breaking a block for a power up, grabbing it and realizing it was a strength enhancement.

He hits Salty a few more times, before jumping back and taking ahold of the cartridge, blowing on it, then placing it into the slot on his weapon.

Mighty Critical Strike!

Running at Salty, he slashes his axe and the power with it. Salty took the hit and was defeated.

Game Clear!

Pulling the cartridge out of his weapon, the armor around Emu remains for a moment, before it disappeared. He sees where Salty had been, now Sota laid on the ground. He runs over, not thinking much at the moment about what happened.

“Sota, are you alright?”

Sota looks up at him and seems happier than ever, “Yes,” He said, then he smiled at Emu, “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome,” Emu smiled back, “I’m glad you’re happy now,”

---

A teenaged girl is holding up her phone, looking at the screen, the camera zoomed in on the screen. She has long black hair, with a galaxy baseball cap on her head. Her jacket is red and her backpack pink, beneath she wears a shirt for a different Gemn Corp game, Bang Bang Shooting.

It seems she saw the fight between Emu and Salty and had saw what had happened at the launch party. She brings her camera down and frowns.

“That’s him, alright,”

---

A man with a red jacket, ripped capri jeans, and an ugly floral patterned shirt with sunglasses hooked on it wandered the area where the Mighty Action X launch party had been held. He looked around, interested.

“So,” He said, “The game’s begun.”

---

A woman with brown hair held back in a bun, wearing light blue blouse and black slacks sits in the back of a car. Beside her, sits a Gamer Driver. She frowns at her phone as it rings and rings.

Finally, she sighed, “He’s probably busy,” She nods to herself a quietly says, “I’ll just have to surprise him tomorrow.”

---

“This,” Asuna says, gesturing to the CR, “Is the CR. It’s a department dedicated to fighting Bugsters and Game Disease.”

She spins and in a flash of colors and music notes changes her clothes, her hair now a pink bob, and her clothing all yellow and green. “I’m Poppy Pipopapo,” She says, “But outside the CR you call me Asuna.”

“How?” Emu wondered, unable to help but think aloud.

“Oh, well I’m also a Bugster,” She said, “We Bugsters can change parts of our appearance, like hair and clothing.”

He nods in response, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Poppy says, “There are ten strains of Game Disease, corresponding to ten games. The one you fought today was of the Mighty Action X strain. To stop Game Disease, we need to clear all ten of them.”

Emu looks at the games displayed on the screen. He recognized all of them, but at least one hadn’t even been released. He hummed to himself, “Well, I think I’m pretty well suited for the job.”

Poppy nods in agreement, “You’re not just Genius Gamer M,” She cheered, “But also an intern here at the hospital!” Emu can’t help but laugh a little at her enthusiasm.

If there were two things that Emu thought he was good at, it was video games and making his patients smile. He’d clear those games with no continues, that was his new goal now. (Something in the back of his head wanted to analyze all the information he got today with a fine-tooth comb. There were definitely some answers in all of it. He just wished they pointed to something a little different.)

#kamen rider #kamen rider exaid #emu hojo #poppy pipopapo #asuna karino #my writing #there is a me who can become strong

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the-lone-wolffe · 4 years

Text

Entity, Chapter 3: Rewrite

Warnings: Gun mention tw, someone gets shot, kinda angsty

August wasn’t sure how long he had been walking when he realized Summer was missing. In his drowsy state of mind he hadn’t thought to check and make sure she was following. All his energy had been put into getting his phone to work, not into listening for her footsteps.I

Once the realization had hit, panic had overtaken him. A surge of adrenaline hit, temporarily wiping away his exhaustion. He forced his legs to run, logic going out the window as he searched. He had no idea where he was running; he just knew that his sister was missing. He hadn’t paid attention to his woodland surroundings, soon becoming just as lost as Summer was. The adrenaline hadn’t lasted long, and he eventually found himself collapsing next to a tree, trembling both from pushing his body and the ensuing break down. He closed his eyes, breathing shakily as he rested his head against the trunk of the tree. Hot tears streamed down his face, mind swimming with “what if” scenarios. What if he had actually gotten some sleep, would he have realized she wasn’t following sooner? Was there something he could have done to keep Summer close? What if she was hurt? What if PSAE already had her? What if- His thoughts were cut off at the sound of his burner phone ringing. He’d almost forgotten about the device. Swallowing back the beginning of his break down, and wiping the tears from his cheeks, August took the phone from his pocket with shaky hands and pressed “answer”. “Hello August, love. “ He exhaled at the warm voice that greeted him, a sense of temporary calm overtaking him. “T-Topaz, thank goodness…I-I finally reached you-“ “How are you and Summer? Are you guys getting enough sleep? Sleeps important love, it’s good for the complexion. I’ve actually had to pull a couple of all nighters recently because I’m working on a new LARP outfit-“ August sighed, barely listening to Topaz’s rambling as he felt his throat tighten “-Topaz-“ The young woman continued over him“- It’s a steam punk LARP, which means lots of Victorian and Edwardian- esque fashions. The accessories are absolutely fabulous. Goggles, Bracers and jewelry made of gears, and little intricate hair weavings-“ “Topaz I-I lost Summer!” He finally choked out, his shaking growing worse “And…..and P.S.A.E is here…..and….” He cut himself off when the tears started rolling once more. Everything had become a whole other level of real when he had explained the situation out loud. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the stress any longer. Topaz had gone quiet as she processed what August had said, her silence adding to his panic. He tried to force down the rising hyperventilation, tried to steady his racing heart, to no avail. After a painful moment, Topaz spoke again, her voice going from light to serious and firm. “Stay where you are, don’t hang up. I’m grabbing a coat.” “I-I’ll try.” His voice cracked, as he wiped more tears, sniffling slightly. He was a mess, an absolute mess. More guilt washed over, as he realized how useless he was being while Summer was missing. He did his best to compose himself, wanting to get straight into finding Summer when Topaz arrived. A short while later, August spotted a flash of silver light in his peripheral. Having managed to calm down slightly, he turned to greet the mint haired woman who’d arrived. Before he could get up, she’d wrapped him in a warm hug. “Hey” Topaz’s voice was soft and comforting. August exhaled, feeling the shaking fade as he returned her hug. “H-hi, Topaz...” After a few minutes, Topaz pulled away, breaking the hug. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eye as she spoke. “Ok…Lets find Summer. Tell me what happened…?” August swallowed, trying to get his thoughts together. He felt like he was underwater. After taking a moment, one longer than he would have preferred considering the circumstances, he took a breath and closed his eyes. As hard as he tried to keep his voice steady, to keep everything pushed away…he felt himself breaking down again, explaining everything to Topaz. Topaz listened, letting him release everything he had bottled up. She did her best to be there for her friend, gently bringing him into another hug. “Got it all out?” August nodded, sniffling a bit. “Yeah” Topaz pulled away from the hug, giving him a warm smile. “Good. Now take a deep breath, we’ve got a missing red head to find.” August nodded, getting up and wiping his eyes, a rush of determination overtaking his previous exhaustion, “Right….Right lets go find Summer.” _____________________________________________________________________________________ Summer watched the scared kid in front of her as they attempted to act tough, puffing their chest a bit. “I…..I asked first.” Summer softened at the waver in the kid’s voice, doing her best to seem non-threatening. She gave a warm smile, taking a slow step towards the kid. They flinched. Summer raised her hands, talking slow and soft, “I’m not part of P.S.A.E hun, in fact, “She kept her eyes on the kid, keeping her hands where he could see them as she crouched down. Slowly, she lowered a hand to the dewy grass, letting a few drops fall to her fingers. From the water, small ice crystals formed on her finger tips. She raised her hand for the kid to see, “I’m one of the people they’re hunting.” The kid stared at the ice on her fingertips in wonder, notably much calmer now that they knew she was similar to them. Cautiously, they stuck their hand out to shake. “I’m…..I’m Ollie, Ollie Kaye….s-sorry, for...” Ollie trailed off, shifting awkwardly. Summer, gave another warm smile, slowly getting up and taking their hand with a firm shake. “Nice to meet you Ollie, I’m Summer Barnes. And, there’s nothing to apologize for. These are...stressful times, for both of us I’m sure. You have every right to be cautious, hun.” Ollie smiled, nodding to confirm that they were also going through some…stressful stuff. After a few moments of silence, Summer spoke again. “So Ollie, I’m assuming since you know who and what P.S.A.E is, that means you are an Entity? Like me?” Ollie shifted uncomfortably; avoiding eye contact after Summer asked the question. The smile she wore on her face fell, after seeing how uncomfortable they had become. She mentally made a note not to mention the kid’s possible powers again, since she didn’t want to upset them. “You don’t have to answer hun; I didn’t mean to bother you.” Ollie shook their head, mumbling an “its fine”. Summer frowned more, trying to think of something else to say, to help them feel more safe, when she heard a snap. She sharply turned towards the sound, waving Ollie to get behind her. Warily, they stepped behind the red haired woman, looking around skittishly. Slowly, Summer started backing up, pushing Ollie away from the noise with her. A loud crack sounded, snapping the tension. Summer moved back quickly, shoving Ollie into the woods as a bullet lodged itself in her shoulder. A burning pain engulfed her body as she cried out, grabbing the wound before turning and hurrying Ollie out of there. “MOVE!!” She grabbed their hand, brushing off the pain and dragging the kid with her as she ran through the woods. __________________________________________________________________________________ Huntsman sighed as he calmly watched his target run with the new arrival through his scopic vision. He had managed to get a hit, which at the very least would make Shield maiden’s job a bit easier. Reaching up to the comn link in his ear, he spoke to his partner. “Hit a target, still breathing. It’s heading east. Another entity was with them, be on guard.”

#Entity #fantasy #action #Superpowers #sci-fi #my writing #oc story #original story #ocs #rewrite #gun mention tw #shooting tw #angstyih #angstyish

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littlewritingrabbit · 6 years

Note

Yup, it's always okay to do Cow Affictionado AU stuff - you were the one who made it into an actual ficlet, after all! :D And how about something with 128 and Laurens? :)

Thanks so much about the AU! And this prompt really fits with Laurens whoo boy… but at least it gets less angsty as it goes along :)

128 - Do not trust wealth

In the late hours of night, when most ofthe other aides-de-camp had already proceeded to bed, John Laurens could hardlyremember how long he had been among their ranks. Oh certainly, he knew them allby name and even by quirk; there was nothing that made headquarters feel sofamiliar as Tilghman’s stubborn focus on a letter or Harrison’s early risinglike an older brother. Familiar too was the daily work, the letters to othergenerals in Washington’s style, translations of French messages, reports oftroop movements, etcetera. But all these details which came to be familiarafter a month or so (as near as John’s tired mind could reckon as to how longhe had served as an aide) nothing crossed over that border and felt like home.

The aides referred to themselves as afamily - a military family, to be sure, but a family nonetheless - and Laurenscould see it in them. They had climbed ranks and endured downfalls together,depended on one another to keep the army’s information organized and itsGeneral safe… they had earned their stations in these ranks as surely as menwho had scaled a mountain. Their jests and competitions, their daily comradery,and even their places at His Excellency’s table come supper, were a right,dearly worked for.

But Laurens… Laurens was an intruder, andhe knew it in his bones. Whether it was his apathy and sense of confinement inLondon, or his father’s recommendation which made him so, he was not so sure,but a bored rich layabout wanting an adventure and the rich layabout son of thePresident of Congress picked up and placed in a role of such merit are bothintruders, no matter what lenses you inspect them though.

Intruders, he though, picking up his quillto write again, do not deserve the title of aide. Intruders do not deserve aplace at the General’s table. And intruders do not deserve a moment of peaceuntil they have proven themselves to merit the station and the responsibilitywhich they were given.

And so he wrote on, though his eyes glazedin and out of focus, and though the candle burned low. He wrote on until itburned out, and then he stumbled up the stairs and collapsed into the cotbeside the window where Alexander Hamilton was snoring quietly. He wokegroggily, downed a cup of coffee a little too fast, and set to work once more.

It had been like this for days. SometimesTilghman would stay up with him, sometimes Hamilton, and they would trudge upthe stairs together, only to be woken all too soon by the sun, or Harrison, ora servant. Laurens’s hand ached from holding a quill so long, and his head fromlack of sleep, but neither Hamilton nor Tilghman ever complained, so herefrained from doing so as well.

“Your draft is good,” said Hamilton oneafternoon, leaning one hip against the table and reading Laurens’s cursivebetween sips of coffee. His hair was neatly plaited back, a bold sort of redthat drew the eye. Or perhaps Laurens was just tired. “It sounds precisely likethe tone of the General.”

“Be careful Hamilton,” said Meade, on hisway from the study to the yard with a bag full of what Laurens assumed wereletters too important to entrust to the regular riders. “If you compliment himso he might very well rise in rank to a General himself, and then HisExcellency would be out of a job!”

“Yes, but you don’t mind me complimentingyour riding without fear of you taking over the cavalry, do you?” Hamiltongrinned. Meade rolled his eyes and let the door swing shut behind him.

“No, truly, it’s good,” Hamilton returnedhis attention to Laurens, who hastily stifled a yawn. “I would say the onlyissue is that you’ve written this sentence twice and signed it as yourself asopposed to the General.”

“Oh blast,” muttered Laurens, “I’m so sorry- I shall rewrite it immedia-”

“It’s alright!” Hamilton reassured him.Laurens growled at himself that it was notalright, and that he ought to fix it right away, while endeavoring to keep hisface pleasant. Hamilton placed the letter on the desk and waved Laurens aroundto inspect it by his side. “It’s just there,” he pointed to the sentence inquestion, “But I wouldn’t worry so about it. You’ve no idea how many times I’vewritten the wrong year on a draft and had to start the entire blasted thingover again.” He smiled at Laurens as he handed the paper back. Laurens turnedfor the door quickly, so that Hamilton couldn’t see him yawn once more.

“Laurens?” Hamilton called after him.

“Hamilton,” Laurens nodded.

“Are you-” Hamilton gestured vaguely,“-sleeping alright? I hope this doesn’t seem an offense, but you seem tired.”

Laurens spared a moment to inwardly cursehimself for showing his exhaustion. Was it not enough that he tired simply bydoing his duty, but had to go so far as to make a show of it in front of hisfellow aides? Part of him knew this was at least a little harsh, but a stillgreater part wanted him to believe it. As much as he wanted to be touched by Hamilton’sreassurances and concern, an older instinct proposed a simpler solution: you just aren’t trying hard enough.

“I think I feel quite fine,” he said.

“Well that’s good then,” said Hamilton,somehow managing to make sipping coffee look skeptical.

Laurens corrected the errors in the letterand began translating a letter from French to English. He started on a newreport after supper, and continued it as one by one, the aides made their wayto bed. He lit a new candle. Tilghman set down his quill and yawned agoodnight, his footsteps on the stairs punctuating the silence like waterdripping into a pail. Laurens’s eyes felt heavy. Maybe if he just closed themfor a moment… he sat upright, having almost planted his face in thestill-sticky ink of his report. No. He had to keep going, he couldn’t let onthat he was tired. Intruder, intruder, his mind taunted.

“Goodnight Laurens,” said Hamilton from thedoorway, “Have a good sleep!”

“And you as well,” Laurens nodded, a littlecaught off-guard, “Goodnight!”

He stared back at his paper, willing hiseyes to focus. What time was it? One in the morning? He could do better thanthat. He had done at dinners in Geneva, and that had hardly been difficultwork. Difficult work? This wasn’t difficult work. It was… troop numbers. Howhad he forgotten? There were… Maryland. There were… two hundred and sixty…somethings… Did canons have one or two Ns in it? He couldn’t remember. Hardlydifficult though…

He awoke to someone gently shaking hisshoulder. It was pitch dark.

“Laurens?” asked a voice.

“Hnnngh?” he raised his head.

“Laurens, I know we haven’t been acquaintedlong, but I should think us good enough friends that you would not attempt tolie to me,” grunted the voice, which John recognized as Hamilton’s. As hespoke, Hamilton pulled Laurens’s arm over his shoulder, steering him out of hischair and towards the kitchen of their headquarters, lighting the way with acandle.

“In what way did I lie to you?” Laurenswhispered, brushing Hamilton’s hair away from where it had been tickling hisneck.

“In the way that one does when one says heis fine, when he is clearly unable or unwilling to sleep, and now has the numberof canons in the Massachusetts artillery regiment misspelled across his face,”Hamilton whispered back, snatching a cloth and a pitcher of water from thekitchen before opening the backdoor. Laurens cringed. He must have fallenasleep on his report while the ink was still wet. He let himself be pushed outand onto the steps, too tired to attempt otherwise. “Sit,” said Hamilton.Laurens sat.

Hamilton didn’t interrogate him, or attemptto make polite conversation. He simply poured some water over the cloth, wrungit out, and began to wash the ink off Laurens’s face. John gasped slightly asthe cold water startled him farther awake. Hamilton took no notice, perhaps outof courtesy. His other hand, also cold and soaked, propped up John’s chin fromthe other side.

“Will it stain?” he asked tentatively,after some minutes.

“Hopefully not,” said Hamilton, “I’ve fullconfidence in the rest of your report, but ‘canons’ is almost certainly spelledwith only one ‘n’.” He poked the spelling mistake on John’s cheekbone. Johnrealized too late that this was an attempt at humour.

“My apologies, I don’t know what came overme,” Laurens avoided Hamilton’s gaze.

Hamilton put the cloth down and raised aneyebrow with a certain finality. “You don’t?” he said. “You really don’t knowwhat came over you to stay up this late, so many days in a row?”

Laurens sighed in exasperation. “Why areyou so invested in how much sleeping I happen to be doing? Aren’t there morepressing matters for you to focus on?”

Hamilton might have looked hurt, but thecandlelight made it difficult to tell. “It’s a pressing enough matter if iteffects your work as an aide, and thus the workings of headquarters as awhole,” he countered, “And besides that, what of the usual reasons of, oh, Idon’t know, friendship? Comradery? You’re part of the family now.”

“No, I’m not!” Laurens blurted, unable to stop himself.

“Excuse me?” now Hamilton certainly lookedhurt. The silence rung in the ensuing tension.

Laurens moved to stand up, but Hamiltonseized his arm and pulled him back down. “No,” he said, “I’m going to need anexplanation before I finish with the ink, and only then are you going to bed.Lord knows you weren’t all that eager to sleep five minutes ago, and I canwait.” He let go of Laurens’s arm. “Now why do you claim to not be a part ofthe family?”

“Because I haven’t… earned it.” It soundedfoolish to say aloud. Like letting a growling beast out of a cage only todiscover it was a foul-tempered housecat. But it also felt rather nice to lethis thoughts, however uncomfortable, spill out, so he forged onwards. “You andTilghman and Meade and Harrison and Fitzgerald… you have all worked so hard toearn your places in this family, but I… I was just placed here, and I’m notnaïve… I know the General wants a link to Congress, and my father being thepresident is about as close as he can get, hence my position as an aide, but Ifeel that is unfair to you and the others, because I’m just… a rich layaboutson, billeted into your ranks.”

“And you’ve been working yourself mad totry to make up for that?” Hamilton asked, his eyes wide. “Dear God man!”

“I know,” Laurens grimaced, “It’s notenough, but I-”

“Gracious goodness Laurens!” he exclaimed, almost laughing, “Has anyone ever told youyou’re noble to the point of foolishness?”

“…what?”

“’Rich layabout’ my hat,” Hamilton scoffed,“Have you any idea what a rich layabout would do in your position?” beforeLaurens had time to answer, he rattled on - “Nothing. He would do nothing, andwould take advantage of his station to obtain a lot of glory for a lot ofnothing and a given title. But here you are, working just as hard as any otheraide, and if you would raise your head from your melancholy for but a moment,you might have noticed that your fellow aides have long since accepted you intotheir ranks, and are now attempting to befriend you.”

“Yes, but my father-”

Hamilton brushed his cheek with the clothonce more and began to wash at the ink again. “Do you really think GeneralWashington would accept such a link to Congress unless he knew it to bediscerning and hardworking? He wouldn’t accept just any foolish dandy to be hisaide, and even if he would, you have already proven yourself more thancapable.”

Laurens felt his own reasoning rapidlycoming undone under the force of Hamilton’s indignant arguments. Perhaps thesolution he had always applied - you justaren’t trying hard enough - didn’t apply here. And if so, he could nolonger fall back on the blame which felt as familiar as a childhood home.

These were new and dangerous waters to testat three in the morning.

“How’s the ink?” he asked quietly.

“Right as rain,” said Hamilton with asmile, holding his hand to John’s cheek just a little longer than was probablynecessary. They stood, collected the candle, and returned through the kitchen.“Just promise me one thing,” Hamilton whispered, as they reached the stairs.

“And what is that?”

“That you will refrain from killingyourself in the name of work or your personal honour?” Laurens chuckledquietly, “Because - and I promise you this - your work is well done, but it iseven better when you actually sleep.”

“Oh alrightmother,” John sighed dramatically. When Hamilton had stopped rolling his eyes,he turned back to face him. “Truly though, I’ll not run myself so ragged if Ican help it.”

Hamilton smiled and began to climb thestairs. “That’s all I could ask for.”

There was room enough on the cot beside thefireplace for Laurens to climb in beside Meade, and he lay still as the soundsof Hamilton lying back down beside Tilghman grew quiet.

“Goodnight Hamilton,” he whispered into thedarkness.

“Goodnight Laurens,” Hamilton replied. Laurens spared a moment to thank the stars above that he had managed to become an aide-de-camp at the same time as such a brilliant fellow as Hamilton.

John pressed a hand against the coldspot where the ink had been wiped off his face. Intruders aren’t told that theyare ‘more than capable’. Intruders do not get sympathy or help washing ink fromtheir faces from fellow aides. Somewhere along the way, John figured sleepily,he must have confused ‘do not trust wealth’ with ‘do not trust yourself’ butnow he would have to attempt to do without the customary blame. This all seemedrather far-fetched, but then again, it was three in the morning.

#History AND Writing #Time for a ficlet #John Laurens #Alexander Hamilton #...& Co.#This was actually a really good prompt there were like a million different directions it could go - thank you!!

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