#'oh i think if you press those two keys the scope will focus more :-) aiming might be easier that way :-)'

[senei]

more stupid junk. this time with voice gaming(however the hell that would work)

[pisceserena]

The End (Part 2)

Part 1 here

A/N: So this is posted a bit late-r than I planned. But here is part 1 anyway! This is quite long, and I hope you take the time to read it. Thank you guys so much for reading my fics! 

wordcount: 1,779

AndromacheTheScythianxReader

No one knows how long it’s been since Andy and (Name) have actually interacted. The two have resulted to going back to how they were before. Cold, and with walls greater than the Great Wall of China. The two only speaking when needed, they are still a team after all. 

Behind the strong facade (Name) puts up, is a person who is broken inside. Only letting herself go in the comfort of her bedroom or her bathroom. After countless nights of tears, and the discomfort of not being able breathe well due to their nose getting clogged, they’ve decided getting over someone won’t be possible if they’ll always see Andy. Not to mention the fact that being with her in missions results to her losing focus. No matter what happened between them, they wanted her alive...for as long as possible, even if it won’t be with them. It was the day after that (Name) has decided they was done breaking down, Quyhn will live a long life, and Andy would be there till her last breath. They should move on. And distance is needed if they wanted it fast. It was the day after that, they decided to go on missions on their own. They could take care of themself. They didn’t need anyone.

“I want work alone Copley.” Not all for it at the start, but after a few persuading and the “Not like there’s much that can be done with me, I can’t die” line from (Name), he eventually gave in. When the team asked about it, all Copley saud was that it was they wanted and that his hands were tied. In his defense, (Name) could be scarily persuasive if they wanted to be. 

“Copley wants to see you in his office.” The sound of the throwing knife hitting the bullseye echoes in the room. “Are you working on missions alone?” Joe inquires, concern etched on his face. Taking a deep breath, (Name) throws the knife, not bothering to look at the target. “ I figured it would be best to be as detached as possible.” Not knowing what to say, Joe lets them walk past him, seeing the knife they nonchalantly threw at the target embedded on the bulls-eye. They were strong, but so broken inside, everyone sees that, Andy just chooses to turn a blind eye. She was with Quyhn, and wasn’t it (Name) that broke up with her? She hasn’t realized herself that she was in denial.

Quyhn at first was clueless, she didn’t know what was going on, why there was tension and why the two acted the way they did. It took a few days, but she was finally able to pick up on what was going on. She didn’t mean to intervene. She didn’t want to be the cause the two didn’t end up together. When she confronted Andy, she’d always brush it off. Saying that they were broken up, and it was just a short thing.

“This is your mission-” Copley starts, handing her a file and and ipad with a satellite map pinned. “that warehouse, in the outskirts of London, just a few miles from here, is where 3 daughters of a very important person is being kept hostage.” Their brows furrowed. What is it with men always targeting women? They looked through the file. Seems pretty easy. “You just need to take out the men, and get the girls to the car that will wait for them outside the facility gates.” They nod in understanding. “How many men?” Copley stares at them handing over the keys that they’ll use to drive themself to the location. He decided that in order to keep the warrior’s profile lowkey and what they were were doing a secret, (Name) couldn’t be the one to take the 3 girls back to their homes, hence the separate car with a clueless driver. 

He zooms in on the satellite map and points out the possible entries and exits. “There are 2 guards at a bird’s eye view that you need to take out before the 2 infront of the facility’s main gate. Otherwise, the rest will be alarmed and you’ll be out numbered-” 

“Because being outnumbered can really do me some damage” They roll their eyes before sarcastically gasping “what if I get killed?” They joke chuckling to themself. Unimpressed, Copley sits down and rests his hand together on his desk. “There’s 3 in the 2 entrance and exit points of the warehouse. Once you get in, there will be 6 surrounding the girls.” He finishes “Should be easy enough” They say standing up, Copley following suite. “Get what you need and load up. Not that you’ll think of it as much but, Goodluck, and come back safe”

Grabbing a DLQ33, (Name) tests to see if the the scope was clear and in good condition. “Need some help with that?” Nicolo’s voice loud that she could hear, but soft that it does not echo in the room. “I got it” They reply continue to move around putting the weapons she needed in bags, strapping herself with her throwing knives and such. It was silent for awhile, Nicolo watched as the broken warrior attached an extended mag to their AK117 “You don’t have to do this alone caro” his pet name made them pause. Oh how they missed the team. But as quickly as it came, it was pushed back just as fast. “I can do this Nicky” They reply adding the stock for penetration and the red dot sight for better aim. Grabbing more bullets, and stuffing it in the bag, they stop to turn to Nicky. “I just need to let all of these feelings go Nick.This is the only effective way of me releasing all the bad thoughts and negative emotions. Let me cope...please” Their voice getting soft, pleading towards the end. Silence once again embraces them. Their eye contact breaking when (Name) zips up the bag and hauls it over their shoulder. They take one last look at Nicky before proceeding to head upstairs towards the garage. 

“(Name)? You dropped this” Nile says handing to them the car keys. “Thanks” they reply walking faster and towards the car. “I can help you (Name) atleast take me with you” smiling and ruffling Nile’s hair, “I’ll see you when I get back champ” they smile reassuringly and unlock the car. 

“Need some help?” Booker asks, being the one to load up the car. “You’re going against 17 men (Name)” His words not bothering them as they open the driver’s side and start the engine. Rolling down the window, (Name) smiles at Booker. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.” That was the last thing Booker heard before they drove out of the garage.

The phone connected to the car starts to ring. Not bothering to look at the caller, they still gotta drive safe, they press the answer button. “New updates?” 

“Be careful. I want you alive more than you think” Andromache says before the call ends, not giving (Name) any chance to speak. This wasn’t the first mission they went on alone. What was up? Shaking it off, they focused instead on what lies ahead. The sun has just set, and night was falling upon them. Perfect.

Eyes sharp, their AK117 in hand, they enter the warehouse. How incompetent is the police, this door is waaay too easy to breakdown. Taking a deep breath, they knock the door down with a strong, hard kick. Bullets were flying, their knife, hitting another man’s chest. The screams of the girls adding to the noise pollution. Everything was going well until (Name) decided that the girls needed cover, pushing a table over they lead them to hide behind it. What they didn’t notice, was a man getting up and grabbing them from behind, locking their arms. Before they got to break free, another man got a hold of their knife, and without hesitating, plunges it into her side. Crying out in pain, and finally being able to break free, they tackle the man and stab him in the head. His blood, splashing on their face. Another pain ran through their body, and they realized that they’ve been shot. Having enough, they throw the knife, hitting the right spots, killing them instantly. 

Silence followed. It was creepy, and at the same time comforting. Taking a step towards the girls, pain shot through their side. The stab wound didn’t stop bleeding. Their brows furrowed. Inspecting the gunshot wound, they see that it’s not clotting. Imposible. Brushing it off, maybe they weren’t healing as fast. Quickly gathering the girls and taking them to the car infront, they leave safely. As promised. 

Getting into their own car as well, the pain becomes unbearable. This is impossible. “I’ve got to get back to Copley” they mutter thinking quickly. Driving was difficult, and their vision was starting to blur. The pin was agonizing. The car seats were covered in red, as well as every possible thing that could be used to cover their wounds. Perhaps they didn’t realize it, but there were cuts littered all over, their body, and the gun shot wound giving her a difficult time breathing. Damn those guards really got me. Was their last thought. Before they passed out, Andy’s blurred figure came into view. “Hey, I made it”

As soon as they all heard their car stop outside, they jumped to their feet to greet them. The team speechless at the sight before them. Andy was the first to reach them, just as they were about to pass out. “They’re not healing” Booker states. “They’ve lost too much blood.” Nile adds seeing the fatal wounds on their body.

Copley didn’t know how to tell the team. He himself was devastated. So, when he looked up from the mini recovery room in the safehouse, they all knew. Some went into shock, like Quyhn and Nile. This was Nile’s first tie losing someone who’s become like family to her since she joined...she didn’t know how to take it. She was devastated and angry and sad. She should have gone with them. 

Nicky had his head in his hands, in denial about the news, Joe trying to reach him, trying to be strong for his significant other, but deep inside, he was crushed. They’ve lost a best friend. 

Booker lost a drinking buddy, a laughing partner. They’re memories played in his head, and as the news sunk in, he collapsed into a nearby chair. 

Tears fell from Andy’s eyes, her body frozen “I never got to tell them how much they actually mean to me...how much I wanted them back.”

[darknesstodawnuniverse]

Whumptober Day 10 - Held at Gunpoint

Couldn’t pass up an opportunity for some PTSD Aramis with this one. This also ended up being another Modern AU oops :) 

You can find this on ff.net and Ao3 for your reading convenience as well.

Read the rest of my Whumptober 2017 prompt fills here.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Porthos snapped irritably as they tramped through the woods.

“It’s been nearly a year,” Athos shot back, equally perturbed. “He hasn’t had an episode in almost two months!”

Porthos whirled on him, gesturing around the woods with a wide sweep of his arm.

“Well he’s bloody well having one now!”

“Arguing isn’t going to help us find him any faster,” Athos pointed out, shoving past Porthos to continue their search.

Porthos threw up his arms in frustration.

“He’s ex-Special Forces. He can probably sense us coming a mile away!”

Athos rolled his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder at Porthos.

“With as loud as you’re being, he’ll likely hear us long before then.”

He frowned when Porthos eyes narrowed and then went abruptly very wide.

“What?” Athos barely got the question out before Porthos was yanking him to the dirt.

“Down!”

A shot cracked above their heads, imbedding in a tree just beyond where Athos had been standing.

They both laid there for a moment, breathing hard with the spike of adrenaline.

“Is that him?” Athos asked, shocked.

Porthos nodded.

“Saw the glint on his rifle by chance,” Porthos revealed. “Didn’t see him, though…he’s too bloody good at this.”

Silence reigned around them, but it wasn’t a comfort. A silent Aramis was usually a deadly one, or a dying one, neither option was welcome at the moment.

“What are our chances of getting out of this without him shooting us?” Athos wondered, easing his head above the log Porthos had pulled them down behind. He couldn’t see anything, but ducked down just as a bullet bit into the wood an inch from his nose.

Porthos put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Best keep your head down with ‘Mis behind the scope, yeah?”

“He didn’t kill me,” Athos stated.

“Lucky you.”

“No, Porthos, he hit the wood in front of me while I was still exposed enough to watch it happen.”

Understanding lit Porthos’ gaze.

“A warning.” Then he narrowed his eyes in thought before suddenly nodding. “I’m gonna risk it.”

He rolled out from behind their cover and flowed to his feet.

Athos reached fruitlessly after him, trying to pull him back.

“Wait, no!” He sighed. “Shit,” he muttered before climbing to his feet as well.

He followed Porthos example and raised his hands in a show of surrender.

“Aramis, you know me,” Porthos announced. “You know my voice. You’re not where you think you are.”

A bullet bit into the dirt before Porthos’ feet.

He obediently stopped his approach and waited. No other bullet tore into flesh, so he figured he was safe to keep talking.

“Hear me, Aramis. Follow me back.”

Abruptly, a figure swung down athletically from a tree, landing in a crouch. Aramis rose to face them, sniper rifle slung across his back and two Desert Eagle hand guns pointed at their heads. He’d camoflaugrd himself with mud spread across exposed skin and in the fading light, he cut white the lethal looking figure.

“What are you doing here?” Aramis demanded. “Who sent you?”

“He’s still there,” Athos murmured from Porthos shoulder.

“Aramis,” Porthos tried again, extending a calming hand.

“Did you kill them? Are they all dead?” Aramis demanded, guns steady in his hands despite how his voice shook. “Where’s Marsac? What have you done with him?”

“Aramis,” Porthos intoned firmly, stepping forward.

Aramis’ eyes homed in on him like a hawk spotting its prey and one of the guns rose to target Porthos’ forehead.

“Hear me,” Porthos commanded, not stopping his approach.

Aramis’ eyes narrowed at him, and Porthos could see his mind whirling as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Follow me back,” Porthos repeated the mantra once more.

Every time this happened, those words were the key.

Aramis. Hear Me. Follow me back.

Porthos didn’t stop until the barrel of Aramis’ Desert Eagle was pressing against the skin of his forehead.

Aramis looked confused now, nearly painfully so. Porthos wondered, in moments like this, what the world looked like to the marksman. Was reality blending with memory before his eyes? That was how Aramis described it once. Like an old reel film, playing with the two pieces of film stuck together, one image overlaid on the other.

It was no wonder Aramis always looked his most vulnerable in these moments, as he clawed his way back to them.

“Porthos?” Aramis finally whispered, eyes widening fractionally as recognition settled in.

“I’m here,” Porthos assured.

“But…”

“You’re not there,” he went on before Aramis could argue. “You’re not in Savoy.”

“But…” Aramis looked to where Athos stood, obviously not having progressed far enough to recognize him yet. “Who…”

“Oh that’s just Athos,” Porthos replied, careful to keep his voice light and warm. He was keenly aware that the gun was still pressed to his forehead. And Aramis, made strong through years of training, had not wavered in his aim.

“Athos…” Aramis repeated the name slowly.

Porthos watched the rest of reality trickle in through Aramis’ eyes. The guns dropped to his side and he took a step back, eyes widening by the moment.

“Easy,” Porthos coached, taking a single step in pursuit. “Breathe.”

“What…what happened?” Aramis asked, eyes wide as saucers and breaths coming in sharp gasps. His eyes cut around them, confusion clouding them. “Where are we? How did we get here?”

Athos watched Porthos reach out, wrapping his hand around the back of Aramis’ neck and forcing him to look at him. Ever since Savoy Porthos had just always seemed to know what Aramis needed. He knew how to talk to him. When to be firm and when to be gentle. He’d known when a touch was needed and when it would only make things worse. Athos wasn’t sure how he did it; how he interpreted the various pitfalls that came with Aramis’ PTSD. But he was grateful that at least one of them knew how to get through to him.

“Focus on me and holster those weapons before you shoot your own foot,” Porthos instructed firmly. When Aramis did as instructed, Porthos went on. “Something triggered you. You took off with your rifle before we knew what was happening. We’ve been tracking you for hours.”

Aramis’ brow slid up and he frowned in contemplation.

“That explains why I’m so thirsty.”

Athos wordlessly produced his own water bottle and tossed it to him.

Aramis slid out of Porthos’ grip and unscrewed the lid, downing a mouthful, only to grimace and give the bottle an odd look. Then he tossed a disbelieving glance at Athos.

Athos shrugged. There wasn’t a rule that said he had to carry water when he was off duty.

“Thanks, but my liver isn’t as resilient as yours,” Aramis teased, tossing the bottle back. But then the marksman sobered, looking around again.

“Do you know what did it?” Porthos asked.

Aramis sighed, scrubbing a hand up into his hair.

“I don’t know. I could have been any number of things. I haven’t… I haven’t been camping since…”

He didn’t need to finish. They all knew how the sentence ended.

“Stop looking so worried,” Aramis joked suddenly, a familiar forced smile on his face. “I’m fine now.”

“Do you want to go home?” Athos asked seriously. They would, immediately, if that’s what Aramis wanted. But the marksman shook his head, brow pinching together seriously.

“I won’t tiptoe around for the rest of my life, worried about what could or might trigger me. I won’t live like that,” he stated firmly. “Maybe I wasn’t ready for this yet,” he admitted. “But I’m here and I won’t run home just because things haven’t gone as smoothly as we’d like. I’m a soldier, I need to be able to walk through the woods. Savoy took enough from me. I won’t let it take my ability to do my job.”

Athos shared a glance with Porthos, who shrugged in deference to Aramis’ wishes. Athos looked back at Aramis to find him waiting expectantly. He stood straight and tall, shoulders rolled back confidently. His eyes were haunted, but so were theirs.

Athos inclined his head in agreement.

“Okay.”