#I have my 3 little agents of chaos to keep alive while my body is rebelling

[harmonizewithechoes]

.

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - iv

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; talk of death, ptsd/flashbacks, war zone, heavy violence, course language, panic attack

➳ word count ; 2k

➳ note ; Hello! I know that this chapter took a little longer to get out, and it is a little shorter than usual, but it’s because it takes a lot of time and research to make sure that I’m doing this story justice. That being said, I hope that you enjoy!! The journey for these eight have truly begun now, and boy, do they have a lot coming. :3

masterlist

For a while now, your life has been slipping between your fingers. Like a shadow passing through the night, every moment has melted through you, pooling at your feet until you’re slipping, falling, thrown to the ground. From the moment the first bullet was delivered through your skull, you have lost grip of your control; of the things you hold dearest to you.

Sitting here, surrounded by these seven men, that empty cavern in your chest aches just a little less. It hasn’t started to fill up yet⎯⎯might not for a very long while⎯⎯but the silence no longer echoes. 

“It still feels weird to think about,” you say, soft voice carrying through the room with ease. They are all listening so carefully that you cannot meet any of their eyes. “That I died, I mean. I’ve had time to rationalise it, but my whole life has been spent thinking one way⎯⎯believing in life and death, mortality, the fragility and preciousness of living⎯⎯but now I’ve been killed multiple times, died naturally a handful more, and so it feels as though the whole world has been skewed and I’m yet to find my balance.”

Your fingers fiddle together in your lap, eyes downcast to the empty soup bowl on the coffee table.

“The story of how I died the first time is kind of a long one. I can’t tell you about the final moments without explaining everything that led up to it, but there are a few years of history to go through. So, if you want me to condense it…”

“We have all the time in the world,” Namjoon assures, and it could be a joke, a satirical remark regarding your current situations, but instead he speaks with the utmost care, as if he is afraid of any wrong word, any misstep. He is telling you that they are patient, that they don’t mind waiting, that they will listen to every word you say. For you.

And it warms that hole in your chest enough for you to meet his eyes⎯⎯all of their eyes⎯⎯and offer a small smile. Then you nod to yourself. This is a story you need to tell, no matter how painful the memories are.

“Two-and-a-half years ago,” you begin, “the Special Warfare Command uncovered the elaborate smuggling operation of North Korean forces. Untraceable men⎯⎯assumed Black-Ops⎯⎯would enter South Korea through other countries using fake documentation. It’s unclear how long they stayed, months or years, but they would eventually kidnap vulnerable children and smuggle them to North Korea via Mongolia and China.

“Unfortunately, it took years to trace the movements of these men to a point where we knew what they were doing and how they were doing it. The SWC eventually concluded that North Korea were kidnapping and training future sleeper agents and spies, and avoiding suspicion by hiding in the Gobi Desert. They had an entire base of operations on a grey-zone of the border between Mongolia and China, and managed to leave no traces of their movements.”

You need to take a deep gulp of air at this point. Up until now, you have merely stated facts; regurgitated information as you have been told. However, you know that everything from this point on will become personal. You try to think back on your years of conditioning in the army.

“It was at this point that my team was requested for the operation. The 707th Special Mission Group has hundreds of personnel, all within two assault companies, one support company, and one all-female company. There are many missions in which female operators are a better fit, this one included, and out of the female company, my team was chosen.

“When I was promoted to Captain, and at such a young age... All I felt was excitement. Excitement for such an honour, for the experiences ahead, for being able to lead my very own team. The women on my team worked so well, too. We had many successful missions, small and big, and we were ready for this operation. We were ready for Operation Fawn.”

The air in your lungs stutters as you exhale, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’ve avoided thoughts of the thirteen women who had become your friends, your family, but now you are submerged in the memories. Both joyous and tragic.

A few of the men around you look as if they want to move forward, to comfort you, but they also know that it isn’t their place to do so. Not yet.

“The plan was relatively straight-forward. We had found the location of the children, and so it was our job to silently infiltrate the site. Remove all hostiles, retrieve the missing kids, bring them back safely. It wasn’t unlike other missions we had completed before, so we were confident that we could execute it without fail.”

Pulse pumping loudly in your ears, heart beating violently in your chest, you begin to see flashes of that night, playing before your eyes without your permission.

“Get down!” A bullet whirs through the air where your lieutenant’s head had just been, close enough to be able to hear it cutting through the air. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, peeking around the corner of the collapsed wall for the rest of your team, “how the fuck are there so many of them?”

“Captain.” A voice cuts through the chaos, the intercom in your ear crackling to life. “They’re still pouring in - West entrance - all armed. There shouldn’t be this many men.”

You land shots on three oncoming men, their bodies falling to the ground, but they are quickly replaced by more on their way. You have to do something; you can’t allow your team⎯⎯or the children⎯⎯to die tonight. 

While your lieutenant watches your back, you fiddle with the dial of your radio, changing to a different channel.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?”

No response comes through, and you’re forced to move from the wall with your gun poised, firing shots at any unfamiliar figure you see.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?!”

A grenade explodes a short distance away, shaking the ground and sending you stumbling.

“Command, this is Dragon, Operation Fawn has been compromised! I repeat, Operation Fawn has been compromised! Delta Team needs immediate backup, over a hundred hostiles, and counting!”

Either the commotion around you drowns out the voice in your ear, or you’ve yet again received no response. You are starting to get desperate.

“Jesus fuc⎯ we’re completely overwhelmed, Command! My team can only hold out for a little while longer, but these fuckers just keep pouring in! Something is wrong, there shouldn’t be this many of them, we can’t fucking⎯”

Somebody tackles you to the ground. Gunshots, shouts, dirt in your face, a hand on your throat. The man on top of you is heavy, but you’re able to roll him off of you and shoot him between the eyes.

The blood splatters across your goggles.

It’s all too much. There are men everywhere, and you can’t see any of your team members throughout the chaos. You can’t get through to your command centre. Everything that was supposed to be easy tonight has gone wrong. Something heavy, and dark⎯⎯something that feels a lot like doom and panic and we’re going to die⎯⎯lurks in your guts, but you can’t think about that right now. You have to find your girls, have to save these children, have to stay alive⎯

Your fist aches nearly as much as your thudding chest.

Images of death and violence fade away as you blink violently, flexing your fingers individually and then all together, mind still scrambled, still alert.

There are hands on your shoulders, solid and heavy and grounding, and a pair of soft eyes searching for yours. All eyes in the room are on you, but all you can focus on is Yoongi, who looks as if he knows, as if he understands.

And there is a fist-sized patch of red on his left cheekbone. God, your fist, his face, what have you done, oh god I’ve hurt him⎯

Cool air blows on the silent tears that stream down your cheeks, your bones trembling with adrenaline and fear and sorrow. He’s saying something, lips moving slowly, but the clouds in your head are muffling everything. His hands move to hold yours.

You recognise the movement of his lips as the words breathe, it’s okay, and you try your best to obey, but your throat has closed up, tight like the grip of that enemy soldier who had held you to the ground⎯

Yoongi brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing your fingers into him, and you faintly feel the thudding of a heartbeat against your palm. Then, he breathes in, slow and deep, and you follow.

In and out, one by one, Yoongi slowly guides you to breathe steadily once again, your chest growing less tight with each shaky gasp. The tears have stopped flowing, and your limbs have calmed into only a slight tremor, and the darkness in his eyes are captivating. You want to lean forward, let them swallow you whole, but you instead squeeze his hands in silent thanks.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, and you realise that your head has calmed down enough to take in your surroundings. All seven are watching you with a careful and guarded eye, but you find no pity. It brings you a sliver of relief.

Rather than replying, you merely nod your head and allow Yoongi to pull you up onto shaky legs. Exhaustion is already weighing you down, and all you want to do is escape your own mind.

They have been once before. You, asleep in the spare room, and them, huddled together on the lounges. They are worried about you, but they are also much more; the fear in your voice, the heartache in each memory, was familiar to them. As they watched you relive your trauma, they relived theirs as well.

“I’m sorry, I-” Namjoon’s words stutter out, unsure, unplanned, unlike the way he usually speaks. “This is my fault. I should’ve known- it was too early to- and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt...”

“Hey, no.” Seokjin’s hands on Namjoon’s shoulders are as firm as his words, kind eyes seeking regretful ones. “Don’t blame yourself; this is nobody’s fault. She made her decision to tell us. Don’t take that away from her. And we all know that she couldn’t help that reflex. Yoongi’s been hit harder.”

“We didn’t even hear the rest of the story,” Jimin pouts, nibbling his lower lip between his teeth. “Like, how she died, how her team died, what happened to the mission.”

“We’ll have to be patient,” Yoongi sighs. His cheek is already blue and purple, and will probably be fully healed in an hour. “We know the fundamentals, anyway. A mission that was supposed to be clear-cut somehow got turned on its head. It cost her team’s lives.”

“How does something like that even happen?” Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s pout is not quite as full, but still full of the emotions he is trying to keep in. “It isn’t just her team that got hit, but the entire Special Warfare Command. This was a big operation, guys, so something like this should’ve been prevented.”

“Do you think…” Jeongguk is clutching a pillow close to his chest. “Do you think somebody from the inside betrayed them?” Six faces turn to look at him, shocked at the implication, shocked that it makes sense. “I mean, the information about the operation would have been top secret. North Korea has resources, sure, but they shouldn’t have known the when, where, and how of the mission. Somebody had to have turned.”

“Who would’ve done it?” Jimin’s question is not asking for an answer. He feels sick at the thought.

It is at this moment that Hoseok chooses to emerge from his deep silence. When he speaks, his voice is regretful. Knowing. “I think she knows exactly who did it.”

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tags: @leafyturtle​, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01​, @basicgukk, @softescapism​, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​, @m1nt-3lla​, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb​, @hemmofluke​, @the-bisaster​ 

[novantinuum]

Trollhunters alt timeline AU concept:

Okay, so since I’ll never have the emotional energy to Write It in full, I just want to share my wild ass Trollhunters alt timeline AU, inspired by that chaos ride of a movie.

Disclaimer: Personally speaking, I actually enjoyed the RotT movie for the absolutely absurdist, emotion-murdering storyline it was. I can certainly say that it... (and in fact, Wizards too) most definitely doesn’t follow the ToA personal canon I hold in my heart, BUT- I don’t consider my idea a “fix-it” because I strongly dislike using that term myself. In all its imperfection, canon simply is what it is, and thus my idea is instead just a wild little AU concept, because thinking about what-ifs is fun. However, given that self-indulgence is a hoot, this is also my way of molding a plotline where some of my favored elements get to play in to everything.

Beginnings:

This AU diverges from the very end of the RotT movie.

So… from my reading of the last scene, one could argue that Jim’s canon decision to return to before he picked up the amulet and avoid picking it up again was born out of a sense of failure… a feeling that he failed as a hero because he wasn’t there to save his best friend from dying. He kinda wished himself (as he is, as the Trollhunter) away in a “It’s a Wonderful Life” type manner, hoping that by simply allowing someone else to take up the mantle, maybe things could end up better.

In this AU, instead of sending himself back to before he picked up the amulet, Jim’s last spoken desire before he uses the time crystal is a stubborn, confident assertion. Not doubting his own ability as the Trollhunter, but resolving to save all his friends in whatever way he can.

And he’s going to do this starting from Draal.

However, there’s a catch. This time crystal… powerful magic like this always poses consequences. And once he uses it, he discovers that the terms of this second chance are that no one can ever find out that this previous world ever existed. Jim is alone in his knowledge. He must tread carefully. Should anyone ever discover this secret… cataclysm will occur.

Time will shatter.

No pressure, or anything.

Timeline 2.0:

Future Jim is shucked back to his old body somewhere amidst early season 3. His first goal is keeping Draal alive. His foreknowledge of Angor Rot’s involvement in Merlin’s tomb will aid them greatly in how to better protect his friends.

His second goal... is one that he’s kinda of two minds about, but knows is desperately necessary for the fights he’ll face in the future. He’ll of course have to become a half-troll again. Thankfully, this go around it’s entirely his choice, and he knows it’s coming. That transition will be easier. Along with this... he knows he’ll have to somehow manage to keep ahold of his amulet. He can’t let the Arcane Order destroy it, and he can’t let them take control of him. If he stands any chance of being on top of his game in the early stages of their eventual fight against the titans, he’ll need to keep both that AND remain half-troll.

His challenge early on: Jim is stuck in the very awkward position of having to play chess master with events that he’s already lived through, so as to attain the same old victories WHILE ensuring all of his allies come out alive this time around... and WHILE not cluing anyone else in on the fact that he knows their futures. The stress involved with that is immense, and there’s bound to be instances in which he’s very clumsy with how he manages this. One of the largest early consequences of this second timeline is that he grows more emotionally distant from his friends and allies, especially those who had died in the original timeline... because after all, it’s almost as if he’s walking among ghosts, right now.

I honestly don’t know exactly how Wizards would shift because I haven’t seen it in eons, but Jim still has to ensure they end up in the past, right? Since he knows they’re a part of the past for better or for worse. He isn’t injured this time around, he likely has been hiding his amulet while back there, and there’s no beast Jim situation because the Arcane Order hasn’t wrest control of him. That’s all I know at the moment.

But yeah, those earlier battles end in victory (or partial victory, since of course the Arcane Order are a slippery bunch)... all allies are still alive... Jim remains half-troll by the beginning of the events of RotT in timeline 2.0...

HOWEVER.

Because of Jim’s extreme focus on keeping his friends- Nomura, Nari, Strickler, Toby- alive... because of how bonds within the group have weakened from his emotional distance... his second go at trying to stop complete armaggeddon is an entire failure.

Nari is saved, but they fail at stopping the other two titans. The world is set to be reborn in ice and fire. Jim has failed, once again. It’s at this moment that in a fit of frustration and rage, he lets his secret slip... accidentally reveals what was supposed to remain hidden... that this is his Second Time experiencing this.

Time shatters.

And then, the whole of creation falls silent. On pause, for Jim’s eyes only.

At this point in this AU story, since I am super self indulgent, I want to do a literal God from the Machine. Because I had a concept flash into my mind... a concept of a literal ancient deity rising from a deep sleep to set her attention upon the mess these mortals have created. All she appears as is bright, blinding light, and an echoing, sonorous voice.

When Jim asks her identity, she simply replies that she is the First Spark. The origin of all life, light, and magic. She has many names… names that countless souls have used to name their young in unknowing reverence… but one in particular that he might recognize.

Deya.

This goddess is the embodiment of daylight and creation, and the sword Jim wields? The armor? It is essentially made of her body. Her power. Her essence. Stripped away and used for whatever purpose mortals desired whilst she slept. How egotistical, she thinks, that Merlin directed all glory towards himself, rather than to the deity that allowed for his use of magic in the first place.

And so Deya reveals that she aims to clean up this cataclysm by returning the world to its original state. The original timeline. The one where this world hasn’t been destroyed in a horrible cataclysm. Jim, of course… immediately protests. Brings up all the hard, desperate days he lived just to get this far, just to save his closest friends and family. Begs her to do something, ANYTHING to help.

And eventually… the goddess offers up a choice. She’ll agree to restore the individuals who were dead in the original timeline, weaving the living souls of those in the second timeline into the first… but. To provide consequence for the disastrous mess mortal kind made, she refuses to use such power of resurrection in a “pick and choose” sort of manner. If she’s going to resurrect Jim’s allies, then she’s going to resurrect his enemies too. Everyone who has died throughout his journey will be brought back, no matter their alignment with the Trollhunter team.

Now, in order to save everyone, Jim must once again risk re-igniting the same conflicts with many of these foes all over again... except this time, in new paradigms and patterns that even he cannot predict. Is it worth it, for his friends? For the ones he loves?

Endgame:

Jim makes the deal. All the dead are restored. As time begins to flow again, they stand in the rubble of the titan they destroyed in timeline one. Jim feels great anxiety at the thought of the last two members of the Arcane Order being alive once more, but at very least the titans they piloted are no more. They’d have to come up with a new plan of attack now, if they had their hearts set on the same goal.

Toby is alive. So is Strickler, Nomura, Draal, Nari... Those who were dead, however... quickly realize that they remember dying. Those who remained alive in both timelines realize that they possess memories of both. Certain relationships will likely be rocky and strained for the first while.

Somewhere on this planet, old foes, old allies, and unpredictable agents alike have returned from the cold grasp of death with a shock. It’s anyone’s guess what new rivalries, alliances, and driving plans will emerge this time. At the very least, however... team Trolhunters is intact... and they’re more than willing to face this new, unpredictable future once more, wherever it leads. Together, hand-in-hand.

Fin.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit. 
 Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.  

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.  

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”  

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.  

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”  

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |

[lanland04moure]

미안해 •| ᶜʰᵒᶤ ʸᵉᵒⁿʲᵘⁿ |• [ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ ]

It's been hours since you left home. It's been hours since that stupid argument. But not being here is part of your job, I know.

You were right, it's your room and only you know how you keep it tidy.  Even though I was right too, it's a mess. You should take the time to tidy up a little better. 

It's been a while since I last called you. I asked you to have dinner together, a truce to fix this stupid situation.  You refused my request. 

You're still upset, I could feel it in your voice.

The door to the apartment burst open, giving way to the thunderous voices of the boys coming in, playing and shouting. But you weren't there.

Why did you have to, why if everyone else was leaving did you have to stay? Why did you?

Heuning and Beomgyu went straight into the kitchen, looking for something to eat while it was time for dinner. Soobin took a seat next to me on the spacious sofa. Taehyun walked slowly in our direction after locking the door informing me that Soobin and Heuning had planned to go to the movies before dinner, mentioning that they had only stopped by the apartment to change. But he didn't mention you.

I struck up a conversation with the guys, trying to forget the fact that I felt rejected by you.  

Beomgyu zapped at the TV, while Taehyun fought with him for not allowing him to see what was on some channel. Soobin and Heuning had long since left, excited because the movie they would be attending looked very promising.

The next moment Beomgyu and Taehyun's voices stopped as did the constant switching on the TV. They had finally left a channel. But it felt strange the abrupt change of mood.

I turned in their direction and they looked like they had seen a ghost, frozen with their eyes glued to the TV.  As I prepared to take a look at what had caused their reaction, Taehyun obstructed my point of view and started talking very fast while trying to pull me along with him.

What was wrong with him? I was about to protest when the words of the person behind the TV set froze me in my tracks.

"A second explosion is reported at HYBE entertainment agency. The trapped people could not be rescued yet. Rescue bodies report that they expect 3 to 6 more explosions to happen due to the rupture of several gas lines. So far at least 10 people are reported trapped." 

The three of us kept silent.

Beomgyu changed the channel again, his hands were shaking, we all knew you were there.   

"It is reported that 2 or 4 people could be found lifeless. This is due to the difficult situation and that the location does not lend itself to a safe rescue. Viewers are asked not to be present at the site, as this could cause even more chaos than what is already there. This is primarily directed at all the young women who are crowding around the company in search of information about members of various groups in the company."

Why if I asked you to have dinner together did you have to turn me down? Why do you have to allow your pride to go so far?

One more change.

"The area affected by the explosions is reported to be on the central floors of the building, the area where the agency's practice rooms and locker rooms are stipulated to be located. So far, no injuries or people trapped in the few debris generated on the lower floors have been reported. It is reported that at least 7 people were on that floor at the time of the incident. All the victims have been identified, 4 or more of them could be company personnel and we have the report that 2 of them could be idols. We are not allowed to inform who they are or what group they belong to, to avoid increasing hysteria among fans."

I know it's you, I know because you haven't called yet. If we hadn't argued you'd be with me now. But you're not.

Another change.

"A successful rescue of 3 people has just been carried out, they were found trapped inside one of the elevators of the place, none of them has any serious injuries or damage."

The transmission was cut for several seconds after a loud noise was recorded by the microphones that were in place. When the signal came back on, the reporter was a little further away from the scene and had a frightened look on his face.

"We have just witnessed a new explosion, the rescue corps reports that this explosion can generate a collapse in the construction. Because of the previous explosions the foundations of the site were damaged. So far a large amount of debris has fallen, which will further delay the rescue of the victims of this disastrous accident."

Another one.

Everyone's nerves are on edge, Taehyun still hasn't let go of me, and I really appreciate it because his touch is the only thing that keeps me still standing and not on the verge of collapse.

The door to the apartment opens again, our eyes traveled to that point and for a moment no one came in and it kindles in me the hope that it is you, that you had reached to leave the Company before all this happened. Then Heuning enters, letting out little sighs, a sign that he was crying, followed by Soobin. Again, not you.

—Take your things, we'll go to the company.—

Soobin's request was in a calm voice, but no one moved, we just exchanged glances.

—¡MOVE!—

Beomgyu's shout brought us out of our state. Tae let go of me, from then on it was all a race, the boys looking to change clothes and everyone fighting for the toilet.

I went to your room, I felt calm, I wasn't scared, I wasn't afraid, and the thought of panicking had left me. 

I guess I hadn't quite assimilated the fact that you are trapped in a building at risk of collapse. Because there can be no other explanation for the fact that I was so calm.

I went to the closet and grabbed two sweatshirts. One was obviously for me, it was cool at this time of night. The other is for you, because when you left the house this morning you didn't have one with you and you're probably a little chilly. 

When I returned to the living room, the TV was already off and the boys were standing near the door.

They were waiting for me.

•

On the walk to the company many doubts assaulted me. Will you be okay? Did you suffer any damage? Did something even worse happen in there? Will you still be alive?

With all these thoughts in mind, I began to experience a strong pressure in my chest, everything around me spun and the boys' conversation began to be heard in the distance. I had to call you, I had to know you were okay.

You couldn't leave me now, you couldn't go away upset because of that stupid argument, I started a desperate search for my cell phone, but that was the moment when I started to feel short of breath.

Was this a panic attack?

I could see the worried faces of the guys who were almost on top of me. They all spoke at once and it was impossible for me to understand what they were trying to say.

Taehyun pushed them all away and helped me into a better position so that it was possible for me to breathe.

—You need to calm down, breathe...—

There were no words of encouragement, it wasn't an "Everything will be okay" and it certainly wasn't a "He's safe". Why we didn't know, we didn't know how you were doing and we had no idea what we would find when we got there.

When we finally arrived the boys came down immediately, but I didn't know what to do, would I be able to keep calm now that I had the real version of the event in front of my eyes?

I need you by my side, now I realize how much I really love you.

This morning that you left we didn't say goodbye... we didn't say goodbye, we didn't give each other a kiss. We didn't say "I love you".

While I was in that internal debate of how to take the situation a loud noise like a big thunder flooded the atmosphere. The hustle and bustle of the moment stopped, everyone was looking at that big damaged structure. And without being able to avoid it, I turned my gaze behind the glass to the same place.

A large part of the building had collapsed. The area around the site had been reduced to rubble.

Not far from us stood one of the reporters we had seen on television. He immediately settled down in front of the frame to report on the latest development.

A little further back was a group of firemen, one of whom was carrying a megaphone through which he began to instruct people to move away from the structure for safety.

I turned my attention to the reporter to hear his last words.

"After minutes of waiting, the collapse the authorities were talking about has happened. The rescue forces communicate that they expect to find the 7 people who were trapped lifeless. The weight of the debris is too much for anyone to have survived."

The Lieutenant in charge took the megaphone and made the announcement that woke me up from my state of shock.

—The explosions were on the central floors of the building, the columns of the site are already too badly damaged and the upper floors are beginning to collapse. There is no hope for a successful rescue.—

I immediately got out of the car, it couldn't be true, what we had just witnessed had to have been an illusion, this couldn't end like this.

I need to see you, I need to hold you. I need to tell you how much I love you, one more time.

I ran towards the building dodging all the agents that tried to stop me, if they didn't come in to get you I would, because I need to have you by my side.

Strong arms wrapped around me preventing me from continuing to run into the building. They held me close to his chest, which was rising and falling in agitation, he had run after me. And there, in the warmth of that embrace a new hope grew within me. But I didn't want to turn around and find out again that it wasn't you.

— You need to stop, you can't do something like this, what do you think you can do for him once you're in there? You couldn't do anything.—

Soobin's voice came directly from the one who was holding me, so.... Again it wasn't you.

I felt my heart sink in a sea of anguish. Why aren't you here with me yet? What are you waiting for? Come on, get out of there.

•

"All night has passed and rescue teams have still not found any people trapped under the wreckage."

"After what seems to be 12 hours of the tragedy, the rescue teams have managed to stop the explosions and have also controlled the fires caused by these."

•

It's been more than 24 hours since I last saw you.

The guys dragged me back home, that I needed to sleep was their argument. But still, in the silence of the night, without you by my side, it was impossible for me to fall asleep.

I miss you.

Look at your room again. It is still the same as you left it yesterday morning. Your desk is full of notebooks and notes. On a chair and isolated in a corner is a pile of clothes, clean or dirty, I'm sure you don't even know. Sweatshirts and pants everywhere. And even as I'm admiring this mess again I think; are we really fighting over something so futile?

I need to hear from you.

I stood up slowly, I had to go there again. I needed news, and I didn't want to watch it through the TV, I had to be present on the spot.

I left your room ready to go back to the company. I left without making any noise, but when I got to the living room my plan went down the drain. Everyone was there, and judging by their expressions there was still no good news. I turned around and resignedly went back to the room.

I threw myself on your bed and without being able to help it I burst into tears. Why did this have to happen to us?

The sound of the door was like a whisper next to my uncontrollable sobs, this time that illusion that it was you didn't appear. I knew who it was.

Feeling the warmth of his embrace only made my crying increase. He didn't try to make me stop, he didn't comfort me, he didn't do anything like that. He did nothing but join me in my crying.

I knew that for the boys this was also a difficult situation. But of all of them, he was surely the one who was coping the worst, he also needed a support, but at this moment I couldn't be one, we were both equally broken.

I'm sorry Soobin, I'm sorry for not being able to comfort you.

part 2.   part 3

[haru-sen]

Imperial Forces

I’ve written...a lot of words for a fanfic no one asked for, and only one person has confirmed knowing what the hell I am even talking about.  My god. This is a preview of the IAL anniversary gift and may be changed down the road.  Certain people instigated this, you know who you are, and I’m still salty at you.

TW:  This is a darker piece of work compliant with some of the unpleasantness that one expects the Sith Empire.  Includes: dubcon, mentions of previous sexual assaults, attempted sexual assault, bad boundaries, bondage, and improper use of the Force.  Edited: Posted some minor corrections. Part 1/?

You sat at the table, ramrod straight, focusing on the silverware, and your glass of wine. The cut of the crystal was exquisite, and the wine was a Dathomirian Fury Red, if you recalled correctly, which you might not, because the entire day had been an absolute disaster, and you would be so very lucky if you made it to the dessert course. Surviving this situation was highly unlikely. You’d known for awhile that your time was extremely limited. But having dessert before you were murdered by a Sith lord, would be kind of nice.

You glanced up at the masked Sith, and then the bored moff across from you: dinner, dessert, death. At least the dining room was luxuriously decorated. You’d always expected to die in a dark, gross alley. This was an upgrade, really.

But for some reason, all these high-end pre-murder amenities were not making you feel any better.

**

They called you Cipher 13, because your real name was classified, and because the previous Cipher 13 took a one-way trip down a sarlacc pit the night before your spontaneous promotion. In all fairness, the name was probably cursed. You were the “unluckiest” of the Cipher agents, often getting the worst assignments or having your missions interrupted by the most unbelievable accidents.

It was an old joke by now, but you still got regular comments about your unenviable misfortune. Like today, when you’d gone to the quartermaster to stock up on the special blend of stimpacks Ciphers used. Fixer 3 had made an awkward joke about how your formula had “unpredictable results” and looked uncharacteristically scared when you took one right in front of him. Fixer 3 was normally a sensible guy and you liked him. You weren’t sure what he had been thinking today.

But it had been a long week, and you had not been given the regular rest break between assignments. Something “urgent” had come up. Watcher 5 had briefed you of your next mission, which was something convoluted and political. You were working for a Dark Council member. Watcher 5 had slipped in a snide remark along the lines of, “try not to let your personal chaos spill into this operation. Sith Lords have little tolerance for surprises.”

He said this, like you had control over these things. Ridiculous.

For example, how could you anticipate that a rancor would get loose at a diplomatic banquet and eat the person you were supposed to interrogate (along with half a dozen or so other very important people)? Not your fault, and certainly not within your control, and despite slicing the needed information from his personal terminal, the mission had been judged (unfairly!) to be a failure. Then there was that pazaak tournament on Nar Shaddaa where you had been burned by another Cipher, who outed you to the Hutts. It didn’t matter, in the sense that you won the game, shot her in the face, and received the boon you had entered the tournament to acquire. (The Hutts didn’t care who you worked for, as long as you weren’t crossing them.) You received demerits for having your cover blown by another agent’s blatant betrayal. (But she didn’t get any, because she was dead, and Minder 2 was pissy with you after that forever.) Then, there was that time you’d walked right into a Jedi strike team ambush meant for Darth Baras on Corellia… You were lucky to only lose a hand that day. Coincidentally, the officer who had given you the bad intel had also been fatally unlucky. He had a rare and deadly allergic reaction to the nuts in his ryshcate pastries, served at a diplomatic fete that weekend. How tragic it is when one can’t even enjoy their pastries.

But it wasn’t just misfortune. The current Keeper did not like you, had never liked you, and was growing more and more frustrated by the fact that you kept coming back alive, when many others did not. (You knew for a fact that the Minders had a betting pool regarding your survival. Minder 12 had been very helpful in providing you the behind the scenes information. You missed her.) As Keeper effectively ran the ops division of Imperial Intelligence, this was a definite problem.

Watcher 4 had been instrumental in keeping you alive. But now that he was gone, you were on your own with very few allies within your organization. That was why you had been given this newest assignment. (You missed Watcher 4 as well, and while you could not and would not try to prove it, you thought he and Minder 12 might have faked their deaths and run off together. It was a purely fanciful notion, but you could dream, right?) Imperial Intelligence agents didn’t get happy endings. And Ciphers usually didn’t make it to five years.

You had seven.

By all rights, you should have been able to transfer to a Watcher position a long time ago. But that never happened. It was probably because Keeper hated you. You did not know exactly why. You suspected it was because you were not born into the upper echelons of Imperial high society. You had started out a slave, earned some freedom, and trained as a Cipher; but on the Imperial capital planet of Dromund Kaas, that wasn’t enough. Your continual survival offended him, a constant reminder of his own failure to erase you.

And so here you were, assigned to the whims of Darth Thanaton, a member of the Dark Council, a crusty overpowered madman, and worse, an absolutely unmitigated boor. He was urbane enough in his public appearances, but behind closed doors? An absolute drama queen.

You stood in his foyer, Thanaton was shouting now, and you got the impression that he did this a lot, having an audience present was optional. The man himself was older, fit enough to show his face (no mask or rebreather), and had been quite the assassin in his day. The room was black marble, filled with ugly stone antiques, and it felt like a mausoleum, only louder and more oppressive. Your head was pounding and your stomach churning as you struggled to pay attention to his spiel. You were professional enough that you could maintain a mask of respectfulness, despite your growing physical discomfort. You had powered through worse.

Like that time on Tatooine when you’d broken a leg in melee combat with Tusken Raiders…That had been a bad day. Or that time you’d gone undercover as a Hutt’s dancing slave on Nar Shaddaa. Or even when…

Focus. Thanaton was bad enough. You did not need to take a trip down traumatic memory lane in the middle of a Darth’s monologue.

Thanaton spent a good quarter of an hour railing against the failing morals and falling standards of the Sith academy on Korriban. And then another quarter of an hour complaining about the bureaucratic delay in assigning a “suitable” Imperial Intelligence agent to his cause. He went into great detail about how much the Council needed this work done, and how important it was, and how Lord Messor’s habits were unseemly, and Moff Kiljack needed to know his place, and...and...and… It went on much longer. He sprayed spittle when he spoke. It was painfully distracting.

You nodded along, like a good Cipher, even though you could feel the nastiness of his aura crawling along your skin. It worsened your nausea. You were no saint, but being near powerful Sith made you queasy. There was something fundamentally wrong with most of them, and your body knew it. But you stood at attention, masking your disgust, because to cross a Darth was a clear-cut and uncomfortable death, usually with choking, sometimes lightning. You’d seen it up close many times and experienced lighter versions of those punishments yourself. Best avoided if possible.

Keeper knew what he was doing. There was a fifty percent chance that you wouldn’t even make it to the mission. Snotty old Darth Thanaton would take offense at you for simply existing and smite you before you had a chance to get to work.

But you were not unaware of the situation. Lord Messor was an unconventional dark lord, taking more than his share of apprentices from Korriban (and doing who knows what with them? Sith Lords didn’t usually keep more than one alive at a time). Moff Kiljack had been one of those apprentices, and had shown an extreme aptitude for military strategy. He had then been put on a different career track, promoted to head of Messor’s security forces, and given free reign. Eventually however, things between the men soured, and the former security chief had managed to wrangle a promotion from the Imperial army, instead of just wasting away as Messor’s lackey. He gained some powerful allies and rose quickly to the rank of moff. To no one’s surprise, Messor hadn’t taken the change of allegiances well, and now things were awkward, to say the least.

Thanaton claimed that he found the entire situation offensive. You didn’t think it seemed any different from any other horrible day on Dromund Kaas. There were so many betrayals, atrocities, and political cliques, you just tried to keep your head down, and your heart beating. It was more likely that Thanaton feared Messor’s growing power and wanted to eliminate a rival.

If only you had gotten another off-world assignment. You’d already disabled the kill-chip implanted in the base of your skull. You could just fake your death, move to some peaceful, secluded farming planet, and not worry about being flayed alive for accidentally making eye contact with a power-mad sorcerer.

You’d always suspected your cause of death would be “someone else’s ego” or at least “collateral damage,” but you didn’t expect it to play out so literally. By the time Thanaton actually got to the point, you had been standing in his foyer for an hour, watching him froth and rant. Lord Messor or Moff Kiljack had just been assigned to deal with a situation on Hoth or Voss (you couldn’t tell because Thanaton had been going at it for so long that he kept switching the names and not giving you any kriffing context…) But you were to sabotage those efforts, make Messor and the moff lose credibility, fall from grace, and be tossed into the bone pile in the waste dumps outside the city.

That’s it. Ruin them on the basis of his disapproval and use his tenuously plotted scheme to do it. Failure would be met by death.

Success would also probably be treason, and that too was punishable by death.

Hell, if you did succeed, Thanaton would have to kill you to tie up loose ends.

Death, death, or more death, with no obvious way out. Normal mission parameters, really.

Nodding, you told him, “I understand, my lord. It will be done, my lord,” while preparing to take a shuttle off-world and commit very public suicide on Nar Shaddaa. Hell, you could just go throw yourself at the mercy of Theron Shan. He probably would only torture you a little, as a formality, before taking pity on you, and ending your misery himself.

OK, clearly you had been in Darth Thanaton’s dark energy radius for too long, because his madness and depressive thoughts were now rubbing off on you. Plus you still wanted to throw up. And Thanaton might have sensed your urge to flee, because he sent you back to the Imperial High Command with an escort: one of his security advisors, a pompous man of “good breeding” named Captain Prince, and a dozen heavily armed guards.

Druk.

The soldiers weren’t really there for you, you realized once you were already seated in the convoy listening to Prince further explain Thanaton’s “plan.” Lord Messor was taking on a greater role in the war effort against the Republic, and Imperial High Command was providing more men for his military gambits. Prince and his men were being overtly assigned by Imperial High Command, though they were actually loyal to Thanaton. Prince would be reporting to Messor tonight. Your cover was as Prince’s assistant. Your job would be reconnaissance and sabotage, and you would be reporting your progress to both Prince and Thanaton. You also would be expected to produce reports for Keeper, not that Prince understood the workings within Imperial Intelligence.

...It was shit plan. You knew it even before you heard it, though Prince seemed confident that his background would pass muster. That was a little more reassuring than Thanaton’s mad ramblings, but still amateur. Prince was a decorated military man, and had seen some very vicious combat, committed atrocities, and been rewarded for his service. He was not the man you would have put in charge of any operation that required subtlety. If Keeper had wanted this job done right, he would have assigned it to you himself, and given you free reign. There was a lot of subtext to unravel, but right now you had to nod along to Captain Prince’s blathering. He wasn’t nice, he stared at your chest longer than was polite, and he put a hand on your knee. You lightly brushed it off, reminding yourself that you could not kill Thanaton’s representative on the first day.

Like any highborn noble, Lord Messor had an estate outside the city. The route was straight forward, and you were taking a regular speeder to get there. Contrary to your expectations, the ride actually helped clear your head. You were still a little shaky, but less nauseated. Getting away from Thanaton helped. Wind lashed at your skin as you watched the jungle pass by, and you wondered how much of a lead you would have if you left for Nar Shaddaa tonight. With any luck, it would be hours before anyone noticed you were gone.

You waited, hands steady, even as you and Prince exited the vehicle. It was raining, as usual, and the air stunk of ozone. Three more men followed from another transport, and Prince did not offer any introduction, though you could feel them watching you with predatory eyes.

The Messor estate had several outbuildings, and the gates were high. A large fortress had been partially carved out of the cliff, the jungle providing more strategic cover. Though solid, it had the columned facade of an ancient Sith temple. You studied it, not quite sure what Thanaton had been complaining about. Lord Messor seemed to have traditional Sith tastes (gothic and imposing), at least when it came to architecture.

“Come on, kitten,” Prince said with a leer. “If you want to marvel about size, I have something to show you.”

The men behind you laughed.

You just smiled politely, and decided that maybe Prince would lean too far out a window tonight. The jungle provided a lot of ambient noise to cover any screaming. The winds were dangerous. Accidents happened, especially around you. Hell, if Prince was defenestrated, they’d probably be too busy mopping up the meat confetti to look for you…

Prince led the way to the fortress, frowning as an HK droid met you at the bottom of the steps.

“Greetings, Captain. Lord Messor is expecting you. Please come this way.” The droid pointed to a more discrete entrance: a small path leading to a recessed door. With the foliage and the angle of entry, it was well-concealed.

Prince’s upper lip curled in aggravation, but he adjusted course. You followed, noting the placement of the turrets, the thickness of the walls, and the fact that the droid that met you was a high-end assassination model. It spoke like a protocol droid, it had those functions as well, but you were very familiar with the HK series.

You followed Prince through the heavy durasteel door and to a narrow set of stone steps. The lights were low, and the stairwell was mostly in shadow. Then the door slammed shut behind you, leaving the HK droid and the other three men outside.

Prince stopped, he glanced at you questioningly.

“I didn’t shut it,” you said.

Prince pushed past you and tried the handle. The door did not budge. He frowned and drew his blaster pistol.

“Let’s go,” he told you, gesturing with the pistol for you to go first.

“Of course, Captain,” you said, maybe a little sarcastically, as you marched up the stairs, keeping an eye out for trip wires, pressure plates, or any of the other nasty surprises that Sith lords liked to keep around their homes.

...Druk. Sometimes there were creatures. The local fauna was bad enough, but the Sith liked to import nasty things as well as craft their own monsters. You’d seen plenty and you had no desire to face Sithspawn again any time soon.

You stepped lightly. The stairs went up for at least three stories, and then there was another door. You glanced back at Prince.

“Hurry up,” he growled.

You opened the large metal door, and stepped into a cavernous room big enough to serve as a huttball field. Dim lights shone in wall sconces, and two rows of black pillars lined a path to a massive carved throne. All these features seemed to be cut from the same mountain stone.

There was a figure on a throne, black and red robes under a heavy breastplate, a black hood and stylized skull mask covering his face. He wore heavy metal gauntlets, tipped with dangerously sharp talons.

“Captain Prince,” Lord Messor spoke quietly, his voice smoother than you expected, a lot calmer than some other dark lord whom you had met earlier today. The acoustics of the room were amazing, his voice carried through the hall.

“Ah, my lord,” Prince stepped past you, his blaster already holstered. “I am honored to finally- be in your presence.” He gestured for you to follow as he led the way toward the throne.

“I did not give you orders to approach.” He sounded almost bored.

Prince stopped. “My apologies, my lord. I did not-”

“You don’t need to explain,” Lord Messor said, resting his chin in one palm. “And I don’t have patience for your excuses.”

Prince cocked his head to the side and looked almost comically confused.

And then Moff Kiljack – you recognized that striking blonde hair and those icy blue eyes - stepped out from behind a pillar, and pressed his blaster to the back of Prince’s skull. There was no hesitation. He blew the captain’s brains out right there in Lord Messor’s throne room. Prince dropped with a thud.

You barely had time to avoid the splatter, let alone wonder what Moff Kiljack, Lord Messor’s sworn rival, was doing in his throne room. You glanced between the Sith lord and the moff, wondering if you had time to dive for cover while they battled.

Instead, Lord Messor just sighed. “Ensign De Veo,” he said, using your cover name, and giving you hope that he didn’t know exactly what was going on. “Also known as Cipher 13,” he added, crushing that hope. “I’m sorry for the mess. Kiljack can be so...uncivilized.” He stood and began descending from the dais.

You glanced over at Moff Kiljack, not at all surprised to find the blaster pistol aimed at your head.

“That’s unnecessary, Kiljack. I’m sure our dear Cipher understands her position.” Messor swept down the stairs from his throne, red and black fabric swirling behind him. He circled you like a hungry sleen. “Now, I realize this isn’t what you expected. But I’d be delighted to explain everything. So why don’t you join us for dinner, and we can discuss what you’re doing here, why you’re still alive, and what you need to do to stay that way. This should be easy enough for a woman of your caliber.” He chuckled.

There was no room for panic. You survived because you could think on your feet. Because you didn’t get caught up in “what should have happened.” You kept your mouth shut and most of your insubordinate comments in your head.

You gave a stiff bow from the waist. “I would be honored, my lord,” you said, already tasting lightning in the back of your throat. It was very unlikely that you would get through the night without a demonstration of Sith might.

Lord Messor laughed, like he found you genuinely amusing, and headed toward the eastern doors.

“Cipher,” Moff Kiljack was at your side, offering you his right arm. He was a tall man, very fit in his officer grays. There was blood on his cuffs and glove. He stood like he was carved from ice.

You swallowed and tentatively placed your metal hand on his bicep, wondering if you could scratch him with one of your poisoned needles without him noticing.

“I wouldn’t,” Kiljack said, not even turning his head to look at you. “Be a good girl, and you’ll make it out of this alive.”

You shivered, suddenly very cold in your officer’s tunic. The fear crept down your spine, threatening to freeze you in place. But that would not do. You forced yourself to breathe. You had forgotten that the moff had once been a Sith apprentice. Force-users could pick up surface thoughts. Normally though, you were better at shielding. You steered your mind back to nav-charts and the asteroid belts of the Outer Rim. Head held high, you walked with Moff Kiljack to Lord Messor’s banquet hall.

**

And so here you were now, seated to the left of Lord Messor, a very bored Moff Kiljack sitting across from you, watching you with cold eyes.

The table was long, almost the length of the room, and also carved from the same obsidian stone as the chamber. The same with the high-backed chairs, though they were not attached to the floor, and had plush cushions on them.

Your brain was working almost too fast, panic welling in each heart beat. You tried to calm yourself, as you stared at the vividly colored salad in front of you. You turned some of your hyperfocus on that. It was very aesthetically pleasing, and would not be out of place at a restaurant on Alderaan or Coruscant. Perhaps it would pair well with-

-So what the hell was going on? Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor shared a well-known enmity. But now they were working together, likely because they had learned of Darth Thanaton’s intent to bring them both down. Prince’s men were definitely dead. HKs were ruthlessly efficient like that. You were a loose end, but one they could bargain with. They would want to use you against Thanaton, of course, but you were an experienced Cipher. You still had some resources-

-a Starblossom spritzer or a Coruscant blush wine. You weren’t sure what the next course was, but traditionally there would be a protein and a starch, and-

-This wasn’t a con you could pull off alone. Not that it had much of a chance before. The original plan was half-baked garbage and you didn’t really want to-

Wait.

You willed yourself still, taking a moment to breathe. Your mind was moving too fast. There was something wrong. Had been wrong all day, your focus slowly sliding into the abyss. But trying to figure out what was exactly was wrong, was like grasping at fog. And with both a moff and a Sith lord watching your every move, now was not the time to buckle.

Your memory coaxed up a tiny epiphany. This started around the time you met Thanaton. Was it him?

Kiljack took a bite of his salad, his flat expression not changing, even as he chewed.

Lord Messor was not eating though. He raised his mask to sip his wine, but given the kinds of damage Sith lords did to their bodies, it was possible that he did not have a normal digestive tract.

“Is the food not to your liking, Cipher?” Messor asked, curling those metal talons against his palm with a rhythmic tap tap tap.

“It is exquisite, my lord,” you said, picking up your fork, and taking a bite. The vegetables were crisp, fresh, and lightly vinegared. There were sweet berries mixed in with crumbles of salty cheese. If this was your last meal, you could have really done worse. “Are these Alderaanian fickleberries? They’re a wonderful addition to the dish, just the right amount of sweetness.”

“Indeed,” Messor practically purred. “You have a sophisticated palate. I understand that you are well-traveled.”

“Or she’s used them before,” Kiljack said, still eating his salad. “Likely when she mixed them with the nuts in that Corellian ryshcate to poison Ambassador Morrow. Clever move: I understand the symptoms mimic an allergic reaction. Never thought to mix fickleberries with vweilu nuts and a decoction of grillig-juice. All are harmless on their own, but when combined together, the enzyme produced causes catastrophic organ failure in most humanoids.”

You froze.

“Do you think that would work on Darth Thanaton?” Kiljack asked, tilting his chin up “No, that’s far too radical for him. Mixing foreign nuts and berries, he’d never go for that.” He flashed you a predatory smile. “You might have better luck with a rancor.”

They knew.

This wasn’t just about Thanaton. No one in Imperial Intelligence decisively knew everything that you had done, or how: just that you got results. But Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor, two mortal enemies had just sat you down to dinner and they karking knew. And if these two knew what Imperial Intelligence did not, that meant they were far more driven and dangerous than you initially expected and how did they know? Why did they go through all that effort-?

Terror, still fresh from your encounter in the throne room, blossomed in your chest once more. Dozens of scenarios played out in your mind: the consequences of your exposure. There was no need to go into graphic detail, though you kept getting distracted with colorful visions of your own evisceration. No matter what you thought of, it all ended very badly for you.

In that moment, you cursed your premature deactivation of your kill-chip. They knew. And if it was you versus a Sith lord and his moff ex-apprentice, you would not win. They had already done the hard part, already figured out what you did and how. And then you had just walked into Messor’s home, a gift-wrapped sacrifice. They wanted something from you, and judging by what they already knew, what it took to find that information out, they had the will and means to break you. You’d seen the inquisitors work, seen the aftermath too, the piles of mewling meat begging for death. Being on the wrong side of Sith and moff persuasion wasn’t any kinder. Electrocution or a snapped neck were far better.

You were on your feet in seconds, already turning to run, hoping Moff Kiljack would take you out in one shot.

“No!” Lord Messor raised his hand, and you slammed back down into the chair. Something in your body cracked as you struck the stone, and the world went black for half a second before you snapped back into your body.

You tried to move, but the force held you in your seat, pressing tightly against your chest, your arms pinned down on the armrests. You could barely breathe, let alone move your limbs. Shuddering, you could only watch as Moff Kiljack leaned against the edge of the table in front of you. He reached out, one gloved hand tilting your chin up.

“You hit her too hard, Messor,” his voice was calm. “She’s bleeding and her pupils are uneven.”

“Couldn’t help it. She moved too fast, and she was planning to self-destruct.” Messor’s voice came from behind gritted teeth.

“That, or hoping to get one of us to do it for her.” Kiljack shook his head.

Cold sweat dripped down your neck. Your breaths came in short bursts. You were trapped, back flat against the stone chair. You couldn’t move. And you were at the mercy of men who didn’t know the meaning of the word. A strangled sob died in your chest as you vainly tried to move your limbs.

“Shhhhh, don’t struggle,” Kiljack reached for your napkin and then gently blotted your nose. “Messor, she’s having trouble breathing.”

“I know,” Messor shuddered, and took a deep breath. “She’s very scared.” There was a note of something like hunger in his voice, but he raised his hand again, and suddenly you could draw in a little more air.

“Mmm,” Kiljack nodded, those blue eyes studying your face. “That’s it, stop fighting us. This doesn’t have to hurt.” He set the napkin down, watching you intently, like a puzzle he wanted to dissect. He smiled then. “You are very loud, Cipher.”

You gritted your teeth and tried to stifle your breathing. You must be badly injured if you were making too much noise. Ciphers didn’t make a habit of being loud. For obvious reasons.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kiljack said. He leaned in, nearly nose to nose with you. “Quiet your mind.”

You stared at him, trying to swallow, but your throat was dry and your vision blurred. You dropped your head, too dizzy to stay upright.

Kiljack lifted your water glass to your lips. “Here. Take small sips. We don’t want you to choke. On the water.”

You flinched, waiting for one of them to follow up with a traditional Sith demonstration of force choking.

“Just drink your water,” Kiljack ordered.

You opened your mouth, closing your eyes as the glass touched your lips. The cool water tasted better than you hoped and the light steady stream cleared your throat.

“That’s it, good girl.” He stroked your cheek, his black glove soft against your skin. “Is that better?”

You managed a nod, feeling queasy from the motion alone.

“Now, are you going to behave?” Kiljack asked coolly. “Or do we have to keep you restrained? Another stunt like that, and I won’t be so nice, do you understand?”

“I’ll be good, sir,” you said, voice weak, and you had to grit your teeth, because speaking hurt. That force blow had done some damage to you. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact location, because your whole body ached. You still couldn’t move. And to make things worse, Moff Kiljack, of all people, was trying to gentle you like a wild tauntaun.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the different routes off of Nar Shaddaa instead of your current location. And you waited for the next threat of more pain, or the lightning, or whatever Kiljack wanted to use.

“Now, she’s gone silent,” Kiljack muttered.

“She’s in pain,” Messor said, his voice still low. “And while I find nav-charts far less tedious than endless streams of pazaak, someone really needs to teach you how to shield your mind better. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long with such loud and irreverent thoughts.”

Normally, you were better at it. But Kiljack had said your pupils were uneven...OK, concussion. That made sense. You took an inventory of your injuries: bad concussion, something fractured in your chest or abdomen, and you still were trapped here with a dark lord and a moff who wanted you for nothing good. Druk. It would have been so much easier if one of them had just killed you outright. They were supposed to be good at that kind of thing. Hell, you could still bite your tongue off and-

Kiljack gripped your chin, prying your jaw open. “I thought you were going to be a good girl, Cipher.”

You whimpered.

“I will get the bit and the slave collar,” he said glaring at you.

You relaxed your jaw. You weren’t trying to upset him. You were concussed. And you didn’t have complete control of your faculties right now.

Kiljack narrowed his eyes at you. “Is that so? Do I need to get the bit for your own safety? Or would you prefer I make you a cloth gag? Messor, can we borrow your sash?”

“Sah-ee, sir,” you said. It was not the first time you’d given a disingenuous apology with another man’s fingers in your mouth at the dinner table, and quite frankly you were a little embarrassed to be in that situation again.

Then came the spasm of pain that would have bent you in two, if you could move that far. Instead, you twitched, teeth clamping down on the moff’s fingers as you struggled to breathe. You tasted blood in your mouth, though you weren’t sure whose it was.

Kiljack’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move, and the slap you expected did not come. He waited for you to unclench before withdrawing his fingers. He examined his torn glove with a sigh. “We’re going to need kolto, Messor.”

A kolto pack floated over the table to Kiljack.

Nimble fingers began unbuttoning your collar. You opened your eyes to see Kiljack unfastening your tunic, a kolto pack in hand. His gaze lingered on your thin undershirt for a moment, and then he applied the cool healing gel onto your stomach, along your sides, and around to your back.

“I don’t think we’ll be finishing dinner out here any time soon,” Messor said.

“Messor, I’m not making do with just a salad, no matter what kind of fancy berries you put in it,” Kiljack said, wiping his hands off and checking his fingers. There were teeth marks, and some broken skin, but nothing severe. After the kolto application, the wounds started closing up as you watched.

Messor laughed. “We can take our meals in our rooms. Why don’t we call the medical droid and put our guest to bed first?”

The pressure on your body suddenly lifted, but before you could regain your bearings, Kiljack scooped you out of the chair.

“Is this causing you more pain?” He asked, one arm supporting your back, the other under your knees.

“No,” you said, though breathing was still uncomfortable. Rib damage, likely. You didn’t struggle, too woozy to make good decisions right now. On the bright side, it looked like they weren’t going to kill you just yet, but also, you hadn’t made it to dessert, and you were a little sad at the prospect of missing whatever Lord Messor’s chef had concocted. Even if it was fickleberries mixed with vweilu nuts and a decoction of grillig-juice.

Despite the danger, you could not keep your eyes open. The world faded away.

You dreamt.

**

You were back in that dining room, candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. You saw yourself bent over that banquet table, Lord Messor’s hand on your back, your face pressed against the stone, your wine glass rolling on its side, the red liquid dribbling onto the floor. You felt a spark and flinched, that light crackle of electricity as those metal talons trailed down your spine.

“Scared?” Messor murmured, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

“Yes, my lord,” you panted, squirming under him, feeling his cock pressed against you through his robes.

“Good.”

**

You were on your knees, staring up at Kiljack, the tip of a riding crop under your chin. You didn’t recognize the room. There was a small fountain flowing in the corner. It was an office, probably aboard a starcruiser from the shape of the window. You did not recognize the orbit. But Kiljack was in full moff regalia, gray tunic coat and jodphurs, black boots and gloves, and a heavy belt. Was this his battleship?

“I told you to open your mouth,” Kiljack said coldly.

You hesitantly parted your lips, noticing that your hands were unbound. You could-

Kiljack pushed a piece of silicone into your mouth, the ring shape holding your teeth apart. He fastened the strap snugly around your head.

“That’s better,” he said, an edge in his smile as he cupped your cheek. “This wouldn’t be necessary if you were more careful with those teeth. Now be a good girl and stick out your tongue.”

**

The bedroom was large and dimly lit.

The bed was enormous, draped in scarlet silks and pillows. It was comfortable, but you could not actually move very far. You poked at the gold collar latched around your neck. You wore matching bracelets and anklets, but there was a chain attached to the collar and secured to the headboard. You rolled your eyes at the outfit: the dancer’s garb with the red and gold harness top, chain belt and lashaa silk loincloth, and knee high boots.

You had worn these before – what spy hadn’t? But you didn’t remember getting here, or where here even was.

There was someone else in the room, somewhere in the shadows, just watching you. You looped a length of chain – your best bet for a weapon, and began examining where it connected to the headboard.

“I thought you were going to behave today.” Messor’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

“But if this is how she wants to play, why should we deny her?” Kiljack laughed.

The lights went out. And suddenly you weren’t alone on the bed.

**

“So do you like the view?” Kiljack whispered. “You’ll have to be quiet, or everyone will hear us.” He tightened his grip around your waist. “Or maybe that’s what you want.”

You sat on his lap, looking around the throne room, in all its sinister glory. Crimson imperial banners hung from the walls and pillars, the firelight casting harsh shadows. There was a second story balcony overlooking the throne room. It was too dark to see if anyone else was up there. But the rest of the cavern was a vast expanse, easily surveyed from the throne where Kiljack sat: Lord Messer’s throne.

He was right. If you made any noise, it would echo.

You swallowed roughly, eyes drifting to the spot where the moff had executed Prince. There was no body or blood.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kiljack growled in your ear.

You opened your mouth to speak.

“You’re in my seat,” Messor said, the words echoing off the walls as he materialized from the shadows. His tone was dangerously mild. He stalked up the stairs toward you.

You started to move, but Kiljack held you tightly against him. “About time you got here,” the moff said. “I was getting bored giving the tour. Maybe we can move on to something more exciting.”

**

You sat up with a strangled gasp, your head pounding. Another unfamiliar bed, but when you looked down, you were covered in blankets. You peeked underneath, finding yourself still dressed in your thin tanktop and uniform pants. You ached, like you’d been in a fight. But there wasn’t pain between your legs, a small, but important reassurance. The inside of your mouth felt like a stable floor and you winced as you looked around, the dim lights still aggravating your eyes.

It was a large elegant bedroom, the furniture silver with red trim. It was neat, but it felt lived in, not a guest room. You started to look around, but your vision swam. Holding your head, you gave yourself a moment before trying to focus.

Yesterday was an absolute sarlaac snarl. You’d been sent off on a poorly-planned suicide mission, and your reactions were...wrong. Judging by how awful you felt right now, you’d been drugged. You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to analyze each location step by step. You started feeling ill in Darth Thanaton’s presence, but you neither ate nor drank there. Maybe he did have some secret force brainwashing powers, but that was unlikely. That ability was too subtle for a bombastic coot like him.

...The stims. Something had been wrong with the stims. Fixer 3 wasn’t being a smart ass. Fixer 3 had been trying to warn you. Echuta! It had been right there in front of your face and you were too distracted and arrogant to notice.

You growled, throwing the blankets off. You tried to stand, but found you were still too dizzy.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better.”

You blinked.

Just off to the side, nestled between a wardrobe and a table, sat Moff Kiljack. There was a blanket on his lap and a blaster pistol on the table. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, before he stood, fully dressed, though his jacket was unbuttoned. A faint dusting of stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked you over. “That’s better.” He tapped his left temple. “You’re not so loud any more.” He gave a sigh that sounded a lot like relief. “I know that wasn’t entirely your fault. You were out of your head. The medical droid analyzed what was in your system, if you’re curious.”

“Someone sabotaged my stims,” you said, resting your head on your knees. “Someone in Imperial Intelligence.”

Moff Kiljack nodded. “Makes sense. You also had a bad concussion, cracked ribs, and some bruising. The kolto pack helped a little, but a localized injection sped it up.”

“Thank you,” you said, even if you were not so sure that you were grateful to be saved. Because you still had a lot of questions about what was going on, why these two “enemies” had put so much research into your accomplishments, and how much they knew about Darth Thanaton’s intentions.

You closed your eyes, knowing a few things already:

Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor had a complex relationship; this was likely Kiljack’s room and Messor would not keep it for him if they were really enemies. You needed to figure out the exact nature of their alliance and how much of that infamous enmity was a smokescreen. They worked too well in tandem for all of that showboating to be real.

Keeper was now actively trying to kill you. It would be very difficult to tamper with the stims otherwise. Thanaton was probably meant to be the instrument of your death. He was old, powerful, and no one would bat an eye over a Darth executing a Cipher.

The sensitivity was getting worse. Once it had been an asset, just enough insight to give you an advantage. Now it was opening you up to too many other things. And you lived in the capital city of the Empire, where so many hungry Sith congregated. No, this was bad for you. Kiljack was right, you needed to shore up those shields, and hide yourself better. Anything less would get you shipped off to Korriban.

“Can you hold down food?” Kiljack asked, suddenly standing beside the bed. He set a glass of water on the night stand.

“Not sure. Thank you.” You eyed it for a moment, knowing that he could have slipped any manner of drug in there, but at this point, what choice did you have? They needed you for something, and that meant they probably needed you alive and functional. You took the water, sipping it slowly.

The moff watched you like a hawk, probably worried that you were going to choke or throw up.

You studied him, noting his bare hands. There were scars on them, but it looked like the bite marks had healed. “Sorry about biting you last night,” you said. Apologizing seemed like a good idea. It would be wisest if they thought you were docile and amenable to them. You still weren’t certain that you were going to thank him for sparing your life. But you were a little more confident that they weren’t planning on torturing you to death. Not immediately, anyway.

“You need to be more careful with those teeth,” he said, without a hint of inflection, that handsome scarred face stoic once more.

You stared at him for a second, a moment of deja vu. You shrugged. “I need to be more careful, period.” You dropped back onto the pillows, another wave of dizziness skewing your balance.

The moff picked up a personal comm. “Echo, let Messor know that our guest is awake, and have something mild brought up from the kitchens for her.” He glanced over at you. “I can send for the medical droid.”

“You already had me checked out, right?” You asked, staring up at the stone tiled ceiling.

“Yes. There was a small amount of bleeding in your skull. We took care of it. It can provide some painkillers and anti-nausea meds if you want.”

We took care of it.

That was an interesting way to phrase it. The medical droid might have accomplished it on its own, though the procedure would be more invasive.

“I think I should go for the anti-nausea meds,” you said, one hand over your eyes. “But if you give me a minute, I can try to get upright and-”

“Just stay there,” Kiljack said. “Messor will be along shortly. Finish your water.”

You sighed and downed the rest of the glass, spilling a little down your chin, and not really caring because your head hurt.

**

The comm unit chimed and Kiljack stepped out of the bedroom. When he returned, he was carrying a large platter of flatbread, grilled fish, and some fruit. There was a small glass of anti-nausea medication too. He set it all on the nightstand and poured you another glass of water from the carafe.

Your stomach rumbled, so you took a few berries and ate them slowly, letting the sweetness roll down your throat. You downed the medication in one shot.

When everything stayed down, you took a few more berries, and then a piece of bread, passing on the sauce, just in case.

Kiljack settled back down in his chair, watching your every move.

You had taken a break from trying to eat, when there was a knock. It was distant, and you realized this bedroom was probably part of a suite. Kiljack got up, giving you a stern look.

You pretended not to see. You were still too messed up to make a run for it, and even if you did manage to escape, where would you go? Keeper was trying to kill you. Thanaton was not going to be happy about Prince. And Nar Shaddaa with its flashing lights and cacophony of sounds, would give you a migraine bad enough to make your head explode. You could stay here in the comfortable bed for a moment. You needed a more accurate picture of the situation, before you did anything rash. You did not need a repeat of last night.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t have to get back to the fleet, I’ll just stay here and babysit your new pet spy,” Kiljack said sharply as he returned and practically threw himself into his chair.

Lord Messor followed, still in those sweeping red and black Sith robes, that stylized skull mask in place. The Sith had several skull motifs, though to be honest, his reminded you a little of the Mandalorian mythosaur skull symbol, without the horns.

“I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better,” Lord Messor stood in the doorway. There was a slight mechanical quality to his voice that you had not noticed last night. The mask had a built-in vocoder then. Interesting.

“My lord,” you said, attempting a bow at the waist and feeling your head swoop dangerously close to your knees.

“Don’t-” He sighed. “We can do this informally, Cipher. You’re still recovering from your ordeal.”

You nodded, wincing as you leaned back into the pillows. “I appreciate that, my lord.”

“We’re in private, Cipher. You can forego the title as well.”

Thankfully, you were already lying down, because otherwise you would have fallen over in shock. You had never actually expected to hear a Sith lord say that. After Thanaton, it was a pleasant reversal. But you did not trust that magnanimity.

If Messor and Kiljack knew about the “extra” missions you did, then they had to have a fairly accurate psychological profile of you. They had to know that people who forced you into bad situations ended up having freak accidents. Being polite was just a good way to manage you. You had no illusions about the altruistic natures of moffs and Sith lords. But you could appreciate the effort and you would work with good manners. This was certainly better than spending an hour being shouted at by Darth Thanaton.

You waited for one of the men to speak. They were the ones who wanted you here, after all.

“You were recently tasked by Darth Thanaton to sabotage our strategic efforts on Hoth and Voss. You were assigned to Darth Thanaton by Imperial Intelligence, but that does not mean Imperial Intelligence condones his actions. However, as Thanaton is a member of the Dark Council, politics must come into play.” Messor’s hands twitched. He wasn’t wearing the gauntlets today. He had large hands, dark skin, and thick callouses, probably from handling weapons.

“So someone in Imperial Intelligence tipped you off?”

“Your...Keeper saw fit to warn me,” Kiljack said, fingers steepled.

You frowned. “But not Lord Messor.”

“I think you’ve already figured out that Messor and I are...exaggerating our feud.” Kiljack gave a wry smile. “But that is very guarded knowledge.”

“Yes,” you nodded, and then winced, because you did not need to be bobbing your injured head like an idiot bird. Your brain had taken enough of a blending.

A secret political alliance gave them an interesting cover and access to a wider range of intelligence. But Moff Kiljack did not have the wealth and prestige that Lord Messor did. He would be at a fundamental disadvantage. A Sith lord was not likely to trust anyone outside their control. There were a lot of disadvantages to this tactic and you could not see a clear payoff. You sat with that for a moment. There was an important reason for their ruse, though you doubted they would tell you anything but a plausible cover story today. But the layout of the game started to form. You looked at the empty spaces, trying to find the details that didn’t make sense.

...There it was. There was a third party in play, aiding and abetting this ruse. Someone with enough clout to help Kiljack get his promotion. Someone that even Keeper did not want to cross...

Another Dark Council member then. And given Kiljack and Messor’s military interests and mostly low-key behavior, you had a good idea whom that Council Member was, though again, not why they were using this exact ruse. But if Kiljack’s patron was who you thought it was, you did not blame Keeper for wanting to stay on his good side.

But you were also pretty sure that you were not supposed to survive that meeting with Thanaton yesterday. The exchange would go something like this:

“Send me another minion, peon!”

“I’m so sorry, your Decrepit-ness, you killed my only available agent and we’re very shorthanded! There’s no one else to send. You’ll have to wait.”

Keeper would be off the hook with Thanaton and Kiljack’s patron. You would be dead. Three problems solved.

Except you were alive, and no problems were solved. You looked up to see Kiljack studying your face.

“Do you suspect that Keeper knows the feud is fabricated?”

“No. That’s very exclusive knowledge,” Messor said without a trace of doubt.

You wondered how he could be so confident – not because he wasn’t ruthless – but because your business was secrets: keeping them, stealing them, rooting them out. If people wanted information badly enough, they would find a way to get it. No matter how well you thought you covered your tracks. Your stomach soured a little at that thought. They’d figured out some of your secrets. You’d have to return the favor, if only for your own pride. And maybe some leverage.

“So you want to recruit me as a double agent against Thanaton,” you said.

“Partially,” Messor admitted. “But I had a more permanent offer in mind for you.” He cleared his throat. “My current intelligence chief will be retiring soon. You were recommended to us.”

You blinked. “I can’t just quit Imperial Intelligence, believe me, I’ve tried,” you blurted out.

“You can if you have the right patronage,” Kiljack said. And he had some experience there, having gone from Sith apprentice to moff.

“You want me to help you bring down Thanaton, get you onto the Dark Council, and then you’ll hire me?” Your lips twitched at that tall order. Sith expectations.

“I will hire you now as a house intelligence agent, at double your current pay with all the usual amenities one expects from the well-to-do estate of a Sith lord,” Messor said. “Promotion to intelligence chief pending results.”

That would have been extremely generous, except Imperial Intelligence was criminally cheap. Sure you had some good benefits, but they didn’t have to be competitive when their employees literally weren’t allowed to quit. Still, it was not a bad offer. Better than a lot of the alternatives.

Messor continued. “Handling Thanaton and the Council are longer term problems. If we succeed on Hoth and Voss, I will have enough clout to extract you intact from the employ of Imperial Intelligence. And it will be easier since you’re already assigned to me: possession is nine tenths of the law.”

You sat with that for a few seconds. You could play the long game, letting Thanaton think you had wormed your way into Messor’s confidence. That would sit well with Keeper – it kept him out of the hotseat. You could go back to Keeper and see which way he wanted you to go – for intel purposes only - and then do whatever you wanted anyway. You could say no outright, and get shot in the head by Kiljack…

“You have questions,” Messor said, still keeping his distance.

“How long have you been tracking me? And what brought me to your attention?”

“A man once called “Sparrow” recommended you to us a year ago. He is around here if you want to catch up later.”

You sighed, of course Sparrow was still alive. That explained a lot. He knew you well enough to guess which missions you had purposefully altered. He knew your expertise well enough to conjecture methodology. That he shared this information with a strange Sith lord should not have surprised you entirely. The former Cipher 7 was a skilled assassin; he’d been declared KIA with his brother two years ago. But it seemed he had found a safe haven here.

“His brother?”

“Didn’t want to work with us. No one was going to force him. He took a shuttle to Yavin 4. Sparrow visits him occasionally,” Kiljack said.

“Why me?” You asked, not because you doubted your abilities, but because you still did not quite understand how this coalition worked.

Messor was silent for a moment. “You are a reasonable woman. And looking at your track record, we thought your methods would align with ours.”

“And why do you think that?” You asked.

“The Rancor Incident,” Kiljack said with a smirk.

You kept your face neutral.

“Lord Vilhus was there, a very nasty individual. But the casualty list also included Ieyak the Butcher, Margrene the Bloody, General Arus, Enso Chain-Maker, and Lord Casten. Coincidentally, none of the slaves, servers, or civilian bystanders were hurt. And everyone thought it was just a terrible accident. That took planning, skill, and finesse.”

You stared at your lap, trying to remember if any of those people had good or bad ties to House Messor. Vilhus wasn’t anyone’s friend and Arus wasn’t related. Casten might have attended the Academy at the same time as Messor. You pondered that connection.

Because once you’d had a close...friend, a lower ranking analyst in Imperial Intelligence. A smart and pretty Twi’lek who didn’t deserve the things Lord Vilhus did to her. Lord Vilhus was a Sith lord and could do as he pleased to those weaker than him. So when you saw him there and that rancor… It was just an opportunity.

You looked up to see Kiljack studying you intently. “None of them were allies to House Messor or myself,” he told you.

“Am I...broadcasting?” You asked, trying to make sure your mind was quiet.

“No, it’s just the next logical question,” Kiljack said. He cleared his throat. “But there’s something else we need to address.”

“You’re a Sensitive,” Messor said.

You winced. Of course they’d picked that up yesterday. “A little. Nothing kinetic level, just intuitive boosts every now and again. Came along later in life.” Though it still might be enough to get you sent to Korriban. And now they knew. Which was a manageable thing. You knew about their fake feud, they knew about your force sensitivity. Mutually-assured destruction ensured that the balance of power remained less complicated.

Messor nodded. “Kiljack is very good at shielding. You should consult him about how to better protect your mind.”

Kiljack gave Messor a side-eyed squint, but did not protest.

Accept the offer, take a hard job, and maybe get out from under Keeper’s thumb. Or decline and end up dead. It wasn’t much of a choice.

“What do I have to do to sign on?” You asked.

**

Different Sith lords had their ways of ensuring loyalty, or at least compliance. You had undergone years of conditioning to be kept under the authority of Imperial Intelligence. A lot of that conditioning had come undone in your term as an active operative. You had worked hard to slough the restraints that would have otherwise hobbled your thinking. They might have had your service, but your mind was your own. Ciphers had a lot of leeway to run operations as they saw fit, because an obedient drone could not do their job. But there were still ticks, involuntary habits ingrained in your mind, pathways worn in by years of unpleasant reinforcement. Oh, you weren’t loyal to Imperial Intelligence, but you knew to instantly bow your head to a “superior,” to mask your emotions with a lie, and that the mission came first at the expense of all else... You knew these things in your bones, because of the conditioning. And you understood intimately how those rituals did psychological damage.

So when Lord Messor stepped into the room and drew closer, you prepared yourself for something unpleasant.

“Give me your hand, the flesh one.”

Permanently, or just to hold? You wanted to ask, but you kept your mouth shut and extended your right hand. He took it gently between his palms. His skin was warm and rough. You swallowed, preparing to be overwhelmed by your reaction to the Sith.

The world turned black.

Then heat and light poured into your skull, a waterfall rushing through you, and you screamed under the torrent. It cut through your perception, and tethered something in your head, to that little spot of intuition that always knew when a weapon was being drawn or when someone was lying to you. That metaphysical aperture expanded, wedged open by the hooks of Messor’s connection. He was in your head, and for a moment, you were face down on the dining room table, those claws tracing along your spine while he pinned you there, while you squeezed your thighs together, squirming at his touch…

Then you felt the weight on your left arm, felt Messor squeeze your right hand, and you forced your eyes open.

Kiljack held you to the bed, your left hand pinned over your head.

You could feel Messor through the force. He was in your mind, had his own private backdoor in, a new sort of violation. And that realization enraged you. Snarling, you thrashed, “You bastard! Get the hell out of my head!”

“If you shield well, I can’t see what’s in your head,” he said calmly. “And I won’t go looking.”

Cursing, you lunged at him, but Kiljack held you down, his full weight on your body.

“It’s not mind control, it’s a minor force bond,” Messor said, tone even.

So this was how he kept Kiljack in line. And you had just willingly submitted yourself to the same treatment. Maybe death was preferable. Fury overtook you and you tried to throw Kiljack off you. When he didn’t budge, you sunk your teeth into Kiljack’s shoulder.

He jerked, then braced himself, hand tightening on your throat. “I thought I told you to be more careful with those teeth,” he rasped, pupils huge.

You waited for the leash or the neural bolt.

It’s not a leash. It goes both ways. And it fades with time. Messor said quietly in your head. Also, if you keep biting Kiljack, he’s going to choke you out.

Groaning, you released the moff, feeling his fingers begin to loosen around your neck. You kriffing piece of sarlaac scum! I’m going to feed you your teeth!

“I hope you’re talking to Messor, because you’re not in any position to threaten me,” Kiljack said gruffly, running his thumb over your throat, before letting go of your neck.

“You’re on the list too, don’t worry,” you hissed.

Messor released your hand, a hint of amusement in his aura. “Get some rest, Thirteen. We can talk more later.”

I know so many annoying drinking songs from dozens of planets. I will be screaming them into your skull all night!

“Charming,” Kiljack said, rubbing his temple. He glanced down at his ripped jacket and glared at you. “If you’re going to be a nuisance, you can go crawl into someone else’s bed, because-”

There was the ghost of a memory, a shirtless Kiljack laughing as he lay in the bed, another man pinned under him, like you had been, a flash of heat pulsed between your thighs-

Messor inhaled sharply.

Kiljack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you-” He pushed his hair back, suddenly very tired. “Just go. Your proximity is probably making things more difficult.”

“Your shoulder,” Messor said softly, he stepped out of the room and returned with a medkit.

You watched silently as Messor carefully cleaned Kiljack’s wound, and treated it with kolto.

Kiljack leaned into Messor’s hands, his head resting against Messor’s shoulder, and it clicked.

There was more than one reason why Kiljack did not betray Messor, one you had not anticipated. You gave a dry laugh, how utterly ridiculous. These stories never ended well for the Sith or their lovers. Suddenly very drained, you dropped back into the pillows.

Rest.

I hope you get eaten by a gorryl slug, you bastard. You pictured the giant carnivorous slugs of Kashyyyk, arboreal hunters that dropped onto their prey and were nearly impossible to pry off. They would exude digestive juices and slowly digest their victims. An unlucky person could take a very long time to die.

What are those- oh that is awful. I’ll have to remember that one. A low laugh in the back of your skull. Kiljack is very good at shielding. He will help you if you ask, nicely.

I’m going to gut you like a ghest.

Get some rest, Thirteen. You’ll have plenty of time to threaten me later.

[dumpsiteforfics]

Yearning - Excerpts From a lonely heart : [ Chapter 4]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst and fluff

Summary: In a world where Omegas are rare and treasured, Spencer starts to have feelings for his married boss and pack Alpha, Aaron Hotchner! This is a story of Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner who are true mates, but probably met eachother at wrong time. Join me on a journey to find out whether the pining ever ends (it does, I know)

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicide, A/B/O, Drugs, Kidnapping, spoilers to criminal minds season 1 to season 6. Also, will include mpreg, at the end.

This is my a/b/o universe for Heid. As the name suggests, lots of yearning and angst followed by a fluff and smut eventually. First chapter might be slower but things will pick up soon. I don’t want to make the story longer, but we will see!!

Also, please check trigger warnings and also let me know if you would like me to add more warnings!

English is my third language so expect grammatical mistakes and typos, I don’t have a beta sorry. Also I hope you will give it some love!! I’m looking forward to the feedback.

AO3 links : Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

More about this au: Click here

Chapter summary: Reid struggles with his feelings and Gideon decides to not address some issues which should've been addressed. On the other hand, Haley makes an appearance as Hotch goes back home to his family.

After they took Reid to hospital, everyone except Gideon was allowed inside the ward. The ward was on lockdown as that was the process for admitting any Omega and since Reid's Alpha wasn't known yet, Gideon was the only one allowed as he was the medical proxy. Hotch hadn't liked being kept out of the loop but he knew it was a law and the rules were in place for protection of Omega, so kept quiet and waited for Gideon to come back with an update.

When Gideon came back with information, he explained how the injuries aren't going to leave any lasting effect but he was certainly beaten up alot causing terrible physical as well as mental damage. He said Reid was going to be kept under observation for at least two days to ensure he is healing up without any issues and doctor's have recommended sessions with a psychologist to ensure his mental health.

Hotch really wanted to meet Reid, to confirm once again that he was indeed alive and well, but he controlled his instincts. Reid needed space, after the emotional rollercoaster he had been through the past two days, he needed to be away from his conflicting emotions and his overbearing protective urges. Hotch trusted Gideon to take the right decision for Reid's health and as he anyways won't be allowed inside to see Reid today, he decided to just finish up all the chaos that he has to clear up due to the turnout of this case. He gathered the team, telling Gideon once again to reach out if anything is wrong or if Reid needs anything and then they all left for the police station, wanting to close up everything about the case so they can take Reid home as soon as he is discharged.

***†***

Reid felt it was a blessing in disguise that Gideon wasn't an alpha. That's probably the reason his bag was still in Gideon's car and he wasn't questioned throughout the ride about the smell of drugs. Before getting out of the car, Spencer had used his sleigh of hand to slip those vials into the little scent-blocking pouch he carried which held all the scents he wanted for any emergency purpose inside. The pouch and some small scent-blocking bags were a blessing for omegas who wanted to keep the scents that made them comfortable with them without overwhelming others. His pouch held his mother's handkerchief, Ethan's earring and one little bottle of scandle wood scent. And now those vials made their way inside. He knew it was horrible, it was pathetic and it was disgusting, but he was desperate to make sure no one gets their hands on it, he would probably throw them out later, but right now he just needed to know they were there!!

He knew doctors told Gideon about him having traces of dilaudid in his blood and he was waiting for the confrontation. He was waiting for Gideon to storm in and ask him about why he had those vials with him. But when Gideon did come in, his eyes were empty of any emotions. Reid was unable to even gauge how he was feeling because his instincts have been overused and tired. He just listened as Gideon told him that doctors wanted to keep him under observation to make sure he doesn't go through the withdrawal alone without any medical supervision. Reid felt his eyes welling up with tears and he wanted to admit everything to Gideon but Gideon just wiped those tears for him and said, " I know it's difficult, I know you are conflicted by something, but nothing is accidental. You'll get through it, we all do!"

And Reid felt pathetic. How can Gideon be so empathetic when it came to other victims but now he was saying things that didn't make sense? Was this supposed to make him feel better? Because all he was feeling after listening to it was that he was weak for letting his trauma get him to make bad decisions. He felt Gideon was just trying to brush off his responsibilities and wanted Reid to decide everything on his own. And he didn't like it at all. He wanted guidance, he wanted support, he wanted acknowledgement of his suffering, he wanted understanding but he now knew how pathetic he was for even wishing that. He was all alone through it after all!!

He spent the next two days in hospital waiting to go home. The team had come to visit him after closing the case, and he was expecting them to ask him about his trauma, he wanted them to try to understand what he was going through, but he could see how haunted they still looked after everything that had happened. He could sense the dread of those memories in their minds. So he decided he wouldn't ask anyone for anything more. It was his journey, and he will walk alone. He had troubled them enough anyways.

All through this he had observed how their pack Alpha was too quiet. He was always somewhere close to Reid, never letting him be physically alone, but he never talked. His dark eyes were just observing him, trying to find out what was wrong, but Reid didn't want to think about it anymore. Before this case, he would've enjoyed being the focus of that dark gaze, but now he just felt judged, analysed and he doubled up his efforts in making sure to close off his every instinct so Hotch wouldn't realise what was wrong. He needed to let go of those pathetic feelings he felt for Hotch!

***†***

The night they come back home, Aaron waits long enough to strip off his weapons and take a quick bath before pulling Haley close in his lap and burying his face in her neck. He tightened his arms around her, finally letting the control over his feelings slip. Haley's fingers slowly caressed the back of his neck before moving up in his hair, scratching his scalp the way she knew always made him feel better. He relaxed slowly in her comforting embrace. She was his safe haven, she was always there, waiting for him and giving out comfort without asking questions. He knew as a unit chief his workload had increased and there were times when that made her lash out, but it was because she was all alone to take care of their newborn while he was out saving the world. She deserved better, she deserved a partner that gave her time, that made sure to pamper her, that supported her and Aaron couldn't be that. But no matter how much they fought, she somehow knew when he needed comfort and would never fight when such a moment came, just like tonight.

She slowly made them lay down on bed, Jack already asleep in his room. She laid down and instead of snuggling into Aaron's body, she pulled him close so he could be in her arms instead. He laid his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeats, as a beta she didn't have a distinct smell but her cherry perfume always made him feel like he was home. And as they laid there, tangled together, she slowly asked him what had happened.

He didn't want to say anything, mostly because he always avoided sharing the gory details with her, she didn't need to know what shitty situations he had to go through every day. But this time, it was too close, this time his agent was kidnapped and beaten and taken away from the pack. And so he decides to let it all out. Haley just quietly listens as he pours out his feelings, as he recounted everything he felt from the moment he realised Reid was kidnapped. He told her how scared he was to lose the agent that had unknowingly become his friend, someone he relied upon to break through any case, someone who made their team complete, someone who had become so much more than just Elle's replacement in such a short time.

Once Aaron was done purging his feelings, Haley simply asked about how Reid was doing now. She asked if she needed to visit him as the team would get back to work while he would be on forced vacation. And Aaron felt so grateful once again for her support. He told her he will check with Reid and tell her if it's needed, maybe having Jack around will help him a bit. He knew that Reid adored the few glimpses of Jack he could get whenever Haley visited the beauro.

He kissed her lips, trying to show her how much better she always made him feel. She was his everything, from the moment he laid eyes on her, she was the only one who regarded him with nothing but love, even in the moments she should hate him. Aaron never had a great childhood, the constant abuse has made him bitter, angry and then Haley came into his life. She was the reason he didn't turn out to be like his dad. She reminded him that he can be loved, he deserves kindness and although during the initial stages of their friendship he lashed out on her too many times to count, but slowly her kindness and her love won him over. She gave him a reason to look forward to the coming day, she made him feel loved and she taught him how to love her in turn. And now after all these years, she was still here, loving him despite his flaws and shortcomings. He couldn't help but to think if Reid had anyone by his side now, or was he alone. He hoped that he would have someone, he deserved it. He knew he still needed to analyse the flicker of something that he had felt back then when he held Reid in his arms, but right now all he wanted was to be vulnerable in the arms of the only person he had ever loved.

***†***

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine @brillianthijinx @thaddeusly Please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from this! ❤️❤️

I already had this chapter written and as I had taken a day off I thought of uploading it! Next chapters will take some time! ❤️❤️

[jamiedc-they-them]

Choices Not Made (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: “Daisy Johnson x reader where they grew up in the orphanage together and they’ve just been through everything together. Maybe the reader has super speed and at the end of season 3 when Lincoln was about to sacrifice himself the reader speeds him off the quinjet and is just like protect daisy and reader sacrifices themself on the plane with hive”

She wept, she cried, she howled in pain. She only cried as none of her friends moved to help or comfort her as they all stayed in their own version of grief, for the most part, it was just standing in shock and looking at their friend as she broke down with no control whatsoever.

“No…no…no” She repeated, as if saying those words over and over again would stop the pain and would undo what had just been done.

As if it would bring you back from the dead, from the vacuum of space.

The rational part of her knew that it wouldn’t. She knew that you weren’t coming back, you were gone. You weren’t coming back.

And it all had to do with Grant Ward once again.

 “Ready?” She asked you as you waited with your new team; the Secret Warriors was your name. Bit comic book like to you, but it fit the occasion.

“Ready.” You confirmed to your sister figure as she burst the wall open with her power and you all stepped into the room.

You all had powers in your team, you shared a power with another inhuman called Elena; Daisy was quick to assure you that it didn’t make you obsolete. Besides, Elena was alright, when you got to know her.

Daisy and you had a joke about her being your new best friend. It was in jest, but you both still assured each other that it was in fact a joke, despite both knowing that already.

You had both been through everything together; Ward’s betrayal, being shot and saved by an alien drug when you were both eager to prove yourself to the team that you were more than just a pair of hacker’s, that you could both be agents of SHIELD.

Then, it was the biggest change in both of your lives, becoming Inhumans. You were lucky with yours, as you had never known yours. Through this, however, Daisy found her family. You were happy for your friend; you did, however, worry about losing her to them.

That was how you got the last name of Johnson; her parents, despite some mistrust, did allow you to take the name and became some misguided (as you learnt) and mislead parental figures to you.

That led to the whole Afterlife situation, where you both were torn between these new people and the people that genuinely cared for you and loved you as their own.

“Your bond with Y/N is strong, Daisy. I’m sorry I doubted it them. There are a part of this family as much as you are,” Her mother’s words brought tears to Daisy’s eyes, “Just….don’t do what I did.”

“What?” Daisy asked, worried about her mother’s next words.

“Do take pleasure in having then in your life. Just don’t expect it to be forever. As, one day, they won’t.” Her words hit Daisy like a truck; more tears threatened to fall, and a few had as she tried to take the words on board fully.

“I will.” She promised her mother.

That was what led to what reassurances she gave to you and you gave them in return as you caught onto what she doing. You had been doing it for a while, but you hadn’t let that known to her, fearing that her learning that would come across as pity and ruin your bond.

You knew that, one day, one of you would go first to whatever was next in life (if anything). You had made your peace with that; Daisy, you knew, hadn’t. You didn’t hold it against her, but you knew that one day it would happen.

 The mission seemed to be on track, you were doing what you needed to do; however, when Daisy both turned, she were met with something entering her body as she gasped for air.

Finally, it was stopped, and she let out a breath again. She felt powerful, She felt good.

She then acted like nothing had happened, you only figured it was adrenaline from the mission.

However, you were wrong; very wrong, as she then brought the base almost completely to the ground as she walked through it and used her ability against her family rather than in aid of it.

 “Y/N, no!” Coulson yelled as he pulled you back and held you in his grasp firmly, despite your efforts to get out of it. You begged, begged to be let go and be allowed to go after your sister in hopes of bringing her back.

“We will get her back, Y/N. We will, I promise you.” You knew he rarely made promises; so, you knew he would do anything and everything to make this one be fulfilled.

You, however, also had your own plan of how to do that.

 Daisy taught you all you knew about hacking, that was led to you trying to trace her phone. While, normally the bad guy wouldn’t want to be followed in any way. Hive seemed to have other plans; Daisy’s phone was still on and still sending out a signal.

It didn’t make sense to you, why take her and then have her keep her phone on. Still, it was the only lead you had on her, so you dug further; you cracked into her phone.

What you found, however, was a text message that hadn’t been sent yet. Curious to find what it was, you opened it.

It wasn’t sent, only typed out; numbers littered it. After looking at them for a moment, you realised what they were.

They were coordinates.

You bit your lip; you could show this to Coulson and get a team sent there. But you also knew that in doing so, a bunch of agents would most likely be killed.

Besides, Daisy wouldn’t write these in if she didn’t know you’d find them.

So, you closed your eyes and let out a breath. You then left to get a bag. You knew, with the chaos that they wouldn’t notice you leaving until it was too late.

 You were gone a few moments later.

 You had found your old van, SHIELD had just dumped the thing, so you thought, “What the hell?” and took it to go to the coordinates.

It wasn’t too long of a ride, but you were still thankful for the van. As you drove, you thought about the memories you and Daisy had of here; when you were more naïve about the world and saw it mainly through black and white and not the grey that it actually was.

You arrived, finding the reincarnated version of Grant Ward staring at you, illuminated via your headlights.

You turned the key in the ignition, killing the van. You took one more breath before you stepped out the van.

You rose your hands up to show you had no weapons on you as you slowly walked towards him.

“Y/N Johnson. Daisy wanted you here. She wanted you to be together again; siblings in arms.” He said, you only kept a distrustful face.

“I can see why, now. The speed you have, it’ll come in use with what we’re trying to do.” He said as he circled you like a predator.

“Do what you need to do, I just want to make sure my sister is safe.” You said, letting some emotion into your words.

“Very well.”

The next moment, your brain seemed to have a switch flipped. You felt powerful, you felt good. You felt like he was the man you had been missing the whole time as a leader and a friend.

 Skye was the first to wake up from her sleep; she shot up, panting for breath as she looked around her new surroundings in fear. Once she saw the giant eagle logo, however, she knew she was home. She was home, she was fine; she was safe. Well, for the most part, anyway.

Then she looked to the next clear room that held you in it. You, however, weren’t awake yet. She gulped, memories coming back of what had happened; of one of your best friends dying as he tried to save you from you own reckless ambition of saving the world from HYDRA and Raina.

It had cost him his life; but, as you laid there, she let out a breath that it hadn’t taken you away. Her sibling was still there. That was all that mattered to her as she walked over to the wall that connected you both, room wise. She put her hand to the glass plane, an old trick one of you used to do when going out on a “mission” from your van.

It was a gesture; a promise to come back ok and to be vigilant.

She knew you couldn’t put your hand there in reassurance, but she knew that soon you would be able to. She knew you would make it, as you were here physically with her. The team had brought you back and put you in the room and not zipped you up in a body bag.

She took solace in the knowledge that you were there and alive. It was enough for a moment to distract from the trauma. To know that, at least, you’d help each other through it and to the other side.

 “Y/N did what?!” Coulson almost yelled in anger and concern for you when May had reported to him of your actions. He had watched the footage almost countless times now, each time acting as if he can change your fate; change the choice you make.

He saw you look at the phone and consider something, before walking back to your room. When May had hit play instead of fast-forward, you were walking to the exit and not looking back. Instead, you had a look of conviction in your eyes as you walked through those doors. He continued to watch as you then left like it was no big deal.

“Anything from their phone?” He asked, desperate to find you and to bring you back before you did something you’d regret.

“Nothing, they killed it either before or after they left to go to their destination.” She gravely informed her friend. Said friend then slammed the table in frustration; you both were like children to him. So, losing not only that, but two of his biggest and most trusted players had dealt a significant blow to both his own morale and the morale of the others.

Two of their closest friends were gone and taken by someone who had become nothing more than a monster. Now that monster was back to haunt them one more time, it seemed.

“What about Daisy’s?” Coulson asked next; May knew the situation was desperate, but she didn’t bank on Coulon forgetting that he taught you guys how to go dark when needed.

Granted, your methods of doing that this time were a little more extreme. But, still, the point still stood.

“I think they’ve crushed their phones.” Coulson raised his eyebrows at that; ok, now things had gotten serious when you broke phones, he had gotten for the two of you.

“I bought them those phones.” May rolled her eyes at her friend; jesus, sometimes the three of you were made to click together as the father-children trio you had become.

“Coulson, focus. We need to find out their next move.” May said, moving towards the man to get him to sober up and focus on what mattered now.

Obviously, she too was concerned for you both as a mother would. But, right now, she was thinking as an agent; the mere act of doing so helping her process all of this and put it away for later.

 You were under Hive’s sway, there was no denying that. You were loyal to the thing, to the death if need be. You too felt like you needed to free everyone and that this would be the best way of achieving that goal.

However, he did give you some breathing room and allowed you to still be close to Daisy and her to be close to you. He knew how loyal both of you were to the other, so he saw an opportunity to definitely keep you under his hold. He let you work together instead of apart.

“SHIELD never really let us work this much together,” You said, confiding in him, “They let us work together during crisis jobs; like Inhumans being nabbed or our secret warriors thing. But….other than that –”

“You can work together as much as you want here. You don’t have to be afraid of that Y/N, your sister and you will never be apart again.” He told you in his monotone voice, but there was a part of you that found it caring.

“Thank you.” You said, seemingly now more in debt to the thing than last time you spoke. His promise to keep you together made you feel more want in helping him with his mission.

You were pretty much the platonic version of whipped for someone.

 “Y/N.” You turned to your sister at her words, “He wants to see us.” She told you; you nodded following her to help in any way you could.

You found him, sitting in an almost angsty pose.

“Alisha said you wanted to see us?” She asked for the both of you as you approached him.

He looked up to you as he spoke, “You and I share similar paths. We were both created by outside forces.” He said, his words confusing you both.

“We don’t follow.” You told him, knowing how you both felt about his words.

“My powers were given by the Kree, yours by SHIELD. They’re the ones who made us.” His words unsettled you both.

“W-why are you worried about SHIELD?” Daisy asked him in slight concern.

“Because I’m curious if you can defeat what made you both.” Ok, now his words definitely unsettled you both.

“The people at SHIELD are our friends.” Hive seemed to have expected that.

“Friends who will turn on you both, who will try to sabotage the connection we share. And the bond you two possess. Y/N told me about how SHIELD kept you two apart at times. Don’t you feel better being together here? Supporting one another? Always knowing the other is safe?” His words hit you both, hard.

“They only do that because they don’t understand, but they will if we can make them share our connection and understand that Y/N and I are better together.” Daisy argued her point.

“You want to put your friends through the Kree experiment?” Hive asked you both.

“Once Radcliff has worked out the kinks, yeah.”

“And what about you and Y/N? To them, you’re dangerous siblings together.”

“We’ll show them we’re capable. We always have been. We’ve been through worse.” You argued, firmly. Sure, you could sway your friends to that point of view.

 You had both been ordered to capture a live Kree to start the experiments. You both went to comply with that order with little to no issue. As you had said, you had both been in fights together before, never letting the other do it alone.

So, while Daisy used her power to immobilize the thing, you sped around it to cause distraction to give Daisy the time she needed.

“Good job, friends.” Doctor Radcliff told you both, but he was nervous around you now after seeing what you could both do to him if he didn’t comply with Hive’s demands.

“It’s nothing new.” He wanted to ask more, but just left it alone for now. Respecting the fact that you both just worked well after a while of knowing one another.

That was when Mack had shown himself to the two of you.

“They’ll be coming with me.” He said in a strong voice, blocking the exit. Despite your powers, he was banking on the old you still being in there somewhere. The one that would never hurt any of your friends.

“I told Fitz to stay away.” Daisy said, reiterating her words to your brother figure.

“No can do. Not when my partner and friend needs help.” Mack replied with, softening his voice.

“We don’t need your help. We’re fine, Mack. Always have been, always will be.” She said, sticking up for you both.

“There’s plenty of evidence here to the contrary.” Mack gestured to what you were doing to the Kree and with Hive.

“You don’t understand. We’re doing this to help you.” Daisy said in response as she pulled you with her. She knew that, if it went south, you’d be there to help her in case she went down and vice versa. You were always there when she needed you, just like she was when you did.

“And how is murdering a blue alien gonna help me?” Mack asked.

“It’s the only way to save you,” Mack looked at you both with soft eyes as you continued, “We’re going to turn you into an inhuman.” She said with a smile.

That soft look died and was replaced by concern, fear and anger as he spoke, “This isn’t you.” His voice, though, stayed soft.

“I know this is hard for you to hear, but this is us. We aren’t lost anymore. Everyone at SHIELD can stop fearing us and stop trying to “save” us.” Daisy said, still speaking for the two of you.

“This is different.”

“Is it? I mean, first SHIELD rescues us from the Rising Tide, and then from my admittedly not-so-great parents, and now, once again, SHIELD has rallied the troops to save poor Daisy and Y/N.” Daisy said, taking a stop towards the man, you shadowed her.

“Because you’re sick. Both of you.” He argued, “That thing is a parasite. It’s messing with your head.”

“That’s what SHIELD’s been doing! Look as us, Mack! You were a mechanic; we were hackers living in a van! And now we’re soldiers?” Daisy was passionate about this. You knew that from Hive, that emotions were heightened. Maybe that was why he put you together, knowing your sibling bond would reach it’s full potential here.

“The world’s changing. We had to adapt.”

“We had no choice. Y/N never got one –”

“Because SHIELD knew they’d follow you –”

“No, SHIELD did that and then they split us up, remember? I couldn’t see Y/N for weeks. Then, when we’re both locked in glass cells, they didn’t want us interacting. They’re afraid of us Mack. But, still, they made us into what they needed.” Your own anger started to boil at the knowledge that you had never really been given a choice. SHIELD had taken advantage of you.

“No. Nobody at SHIELD made you do anything.” Her passionate speech fell on deaf ears.

“But Coulson knew we were lost, two scared kids who didn’t know any better or have anyone else. So, he’d offer up his team of misfit toys to just fill that emptiness.”

“That team cares about you. I care about you.” He said as he took a few more steps forward. As he did so, you took a few of your own, only for Daisy to grab your hand and get you to stop.

“So, what’s that make us? Friends?”

“Friends. Partners.” He assured you both with a smile.

“Bobbi was your partner once. How’d that work out.” She said in a slight sneer, both of you feeling the pain of losing someone who was a sister to you both.

“You know damn well –” You let the rest of the conversation play out as you felt the itch to rush him and get him out. You knew he wasn’t going to agree to your plan to change them, at least not by force.

You’d always like Mack, he was a big brother to you and Daisy. But you knew that in this moment there was no changing his mind.

The body of the Kree dissolved. Like an attack dog, Daisy looked at you. You sped to Mack, shoving him out of the building and onto the cold floor.

“Back up, I’ve got this. You do a sweep.” She ordered you as she quaked Mack’s arm to the ground to block the shot he was going to fire off.

You nodded, going to do just that.

 “Skye!” You yelled as you saw her struggling to walk, limping on one leg. You ran over and threw her arm over your shoulder as you helped her get back to the van.

“What happened?” You asked her in concern as you shouldered most of her weight.

“It was setup. Barely got out as you can see.” She said as she let out a humourless laugh that soon turned into a pained groan.

“I got you, I got you.” You assured her as you slid open the van door and sat her on the side.

“I know…thank you Y/N.” She said, genuinely.

“What’re friends for.” You replied with as started to try and mend what you could of her wounds with what you had.

She smiled, feeling lucky to have you as her best friend in her life. One who would always be there when needed.

 The trade off for your powers was that you couldn’t use them for very long; if Yoyo (Elena’s nickname you had given her) came back to where she started, you could only go for a few seconds before going at a normal speed.

So, when you finally came back, Mack was gone. But, as you adjusted your eyes to the dark, Daisy was laying on the floor in pain.

“No, no, no, no.” You yelled out as you ran over to her.

Hive then appeared as well, crouching next to you as you pushed Daisy’s hair out of her face and ran your hand through it in an anxious but reassuring motion.

“What happened?” You asked him as tears pooled in your eyes. Your voice cracked as you asked the words.

“SHIELD.” Was the answer you got. But you weren’t really listening. You were just reeling from the fact that you had failed.

You had failed your sister.

 “Your efforts were lacking. Your ties to SHIELD are stronger than either of you let on.” Hive said as he looked at the only bag of Kree blood he had in his possession.

“No, I’m done with all that.” You said as you stood in front of your sister, desperate to keep her safe from whatever idea of punishment he had in store for you both.

“We have the blood you need.” You told him, wanting to avoid all that of course.

“We need Kree blood. Pure, actual, Kree blood.” He spat as he turned to you.

“And we have it, pumping through our veins right now. Coulson gave to us to keep us alive when we were shot. Think, Ward would remember that time.” You said, not breaking eye contact with the man that wore the body of your once friend.

He did for a moment, Daisy looked at you with slight worry, but she hid it for the most part and used the pain from being patched up as the excuse for the look on her face.

“He does. You’re correct, Y/N.” He said in resignation.

“So, you want Kree blood,” You held out your arms, “Drain us, then.”

 “Daisy, what are you doing?” Coulson asked over the comms as she continued on her mission despite it being completed. She had stopped the threat against the Inhuman, this time anyway. So, why was she still looking for something?

“Be with you in a minute.” She said as she continued through the warehouse; Coulson watched the screen as she continued to do so, watching from the cameras.

She went to a door, pressing her ear against it before going to the handle.

She tried it, but nothing came of it. Locked.

“Ok, then.” She held out her hand, the door was then open the next moment and slamming against the shelves before finally coming to a stop.

“Ok, if I were a file, were would I hide?” She asked as she combed through the room; she opened all the drawers available, only to find nothing. She then heard a gun click and turned to the holder.

As he squeezed the trigger, he was knocked to the ground. She saw you behind him.

“Thanks.” She said in a moment of vulnerability.

“Course.” You replied on autopilot.

 “I made a loop of you sleeping. So, if anyone checks the monitors, that’s what they’ll see. We can talk privately.” Daisy said as she made herself appear on Lincoln’s screen in the containment room he was put into.

“It’s good to see you.” He admitted, with a relived smile on his face. That smile then dropped to a concerned look, “Are you ok?” He asked.

“Fine. Just feeling a little drained. Although, not as much as Y/N.” She said; those words got his attention.

“Why not?”

“They’re draining a bit longer; don’t worry, they’ll be fine. They always are.” She said with a soft smile. Lincoln desperately wanted to return it, but then he remembered how protective and willing to go the extra mile you both were with the other.

“What about you? Why are you locked up?” She asked, finally realising the room he was in.

He took a moment before answering, “Honestly? They don’t trust me. They think I’ve lost my mind over you.”

Daisy smiled for a moment as she asked, “Well, is it true?”

“You know you’re the only reason I was ever here. And they know it. Now that that you’re gone…” He was cut off by her.

“I gave you a chance to come with me. We could be together right now, but you said no.”

“I said no to being brainwashed. I don’t want to be with you in that way.” He said in a confrontational tone.

“Do I sound brainwashed to you?” She asked, a little hurt by the accusation.

“I don’t know.” He was honest about it, at least, “I just…I just want to be with you. No Hive, no SHIELD, just….Just the two of us –”

“What about Y/N?” She asked without missing a beat.

“Y/N would follow anyway.” He said, all-be-it a little dismissively.

“Why’d you say it like that?” She asked, slightly angered by his wording.

“Alright, that’s not what I meant. Y/N can come if you want them to. But I just want us to be alone and away from everything; seeing the world. I don’t even know if that’s possible anymore, though.”

 Lincoln had company, so Daisy left for a moment as he dealt with it. As soon as the company was gone, she asked him if he definitely wanted to leave. His answer was simple.

“Only if I can be with you.”

 When she went out to see the others, she saw you barely being able to stand by yourself; you looked way paler then she had. How much blood did Hive take from you?

However much it was, it wasn’t enough apparently. As he still needed more. That led to him looking to Daisy.

“Y/N is almost out of blood. And I know they mean something to you, so I stopped before they died. This isn’t free, however. As I still need more.” She could read between the lines; she knew what that meant.

That it was her turn to be drained instead.

 However, when she left, Hive showed you what had been made from your donation. They looked grotesque, but Hive found them beautiful.

What you knew from your reaction, was that his sway was wearing off on you. You just hoped that it was on Daisy as well.

“I need more.” Hive said as he turned to you. Radcliff looked at you in concern.

“They can hardly take anymore of this!” He yelled, in the time he’d been here, he saw you were different from the others. You had a fight in you to protect the one you came here for. He respected that.

But he also saw you has a human being.

Hive glared at him, “Again, gonna have to go with the doc on this one.” James said, finding it dumb to lose on their own to make like 7 more.

“We aren’t done yet.”

 You were in the chair, the world seeming to be either blurry or spinning. You felt like you’d either vomit or pass out. Even Radcliff didn’t want to continue at this point.

He, however, got distracted when he looked out of the window. Outside, he saw Daisy fighting a creature who looked like a beefed-up Smurf.

“Oh, bloody hell.” He cursed before he came over to you, “Come on, we’ve got to run.” He said, as he helped you stand and got you out of the room.

You both stopped when you saw the thing hold a hand over your sister as a blue light absorbed her for a moment before it disappeared. He then turned to you.

You pushed Radcliff back shakily, the man just ran for his life. You got ready to run, but you fell at the last moment.

The last thing you saw, was the creature above you.

 You woke up on a soft bed. For a moment, part of you thought it was what heaven would be like. Then, you looked to your left and saw the giant SHIELD logo. You put your head back on your pillow and let out a breath before you sat up slowly.

“There you are.” You heard a raw voice say. You looked over and saw it was Daisy; she tried to smile, but it was only a small upturn of her mouth that showed how relieved she was that you had woken up.

You were nearly taken from her again. But, like always, you had come back to the living. Maybe you were indestructible.

“How are you feeling?” She asked you, folding her arms around herself protectively.

“Feeling better. You?” She nodded.

“Bit better,” Tears came to her eyes, “Oh, god. Everything we did, Y/N just keeps repeating my mind over and over again. It’s a nightmare.” She said as her voice cracked.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” You said, trying to goad her into doing just that. But she fought against you.

“Why were you there?! Why did you track me?” She yelled; what you didn’t know, was that the others had you on screen as they tried to figure out their latest issue with Hive back at base.

“Because I had too! I wasn’t going to lose you to that thing.” You answered easily, you raised your own voice as you did so.

“Look, our time is limited Daisy. I love the others like family, just like you. But, things like this don’t forever. There’s an expired date.”

“There’s not.” She denied, voice cracking even more.

“There is –”

“Don’t talk like that.” She demanded from you.

“One day, one of us will be gone and we’ll have to move and deal with that pain –”

“Shut up! We made a promise to always be friends and stick together! No matter what! So, don’t you give me this nihilistic horseshit, Y/N! Not now.” She was begging; not on her knees but begging you with her shaky and broken voice. The way her bottom lip trembled, and tears rolled down her face.

You were cut off when the man of the hour appeared on screen. Daisy had to be quick with her actions, knowing you well enough to know what your reaction would be.

She cracked through the pod’s security and opened the door. You followed through; however, as she put her hand to the handle to raise the thing, she quickly hit a button to open the other doors. She held out her palm and you were blown through the open door. Your back slammed into the wall.

“Daisy!” You called out as she rose up. She ignored our call.

You knew you couldn’t stop her, but you could do one thing; you could help protect the others.

 “Where do you want me?” You asked as you entered the office, seeing your friends all turn to you with looks of either concern or shock.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Jemma asked, walking towards you to support you. You knew the lecture you were going to get, so you just raised a hand up.

“Later, Simmons,” You looked to Coulson, “I might not be Daisy. But I can help. Just…where’d you want me?” You asked again as you put your hands on your hips; just ready for an order.

Coulson sighed, but soon that order came.

 “Couldn’t have just speeded us there, could you?” Fitz complained as you, him and May crawled under the floor of the Zephier.

“Fitz, Y/N is still recovering.” She reminded the man. He nodded as he did know, he was just trying to maybe lighten the mood and calm himself a little.

“I know.” Was all he condensed it to.

You were the last to go. Well, you were about to, when May was knocked unconscious and Fitz was held at gunpoint.

The man managed to hold himself, however, as he pulled the trigger and gunned the inhuman down. He then unlocked the pod for Daisy. You finally came out of the floor.

“Y/N –”

“Shut up,” Now you turned those words on her, “We’re in this together. I’m here now, so let’s just do what we can, ok?” She sighed but nodded. Too tired and too worked up about this whole thing to really argue.

 That led you all to the Zephier and taking it off. Fitz had offered you his jacket, but you past it onto Daisy. You only gave her a look as she was about to fight you on it. She took it, muttering a small, “Thank you,” as she did so.

It also led you to find Lincoln injured. Daisy was in tears and seeing him, but you stayed back and watched as Jemma and Fitz did what they could for him.

You looked at Lincoln, meeting his gaze; he saw the guilt that clouded your own along with Daisy’s. But he also saw the action you were willing to take.

He lightly shook his head; Daisy saw it and followed his gaze to you.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” She whispered as more tears fell.

“Nothing.” You answered, but you met Lincoln’s eyes again and tried to communicate a simple message by moving between the couple with your gaze. Look after her.

 As the team got distracted, Daisy pushed past you and ran as fast as she humanly could.

“I couldn’t stop her.” Lincoln said in guilt. He then looked to you and gestured to your legs. You then remembered your ability. You could probably do one last dash.

You picked him up as the team started to fight; you then sped to the Jet and had arrived there before Daisy had.

“Quick. Do what you need to do.” You said as you looked at the back to try and keep an eye out for Hive. As he did so, you felt the want to pass out hit you again; a wave of nausea.

As soon as he was done, you grabbed him and went on two more trips ; one to take him back to the others, and then one back to the Jet.

You sat in the seat, taking a moment to breath as you did so. You were so close at this point, both to passing out and completing your mission.

You just hoped Daisy would forgive you one day.

As she entered, you kept as quiet as you could. Even when Hive entered, you didn’t warn her. Instead, you watched as she quaked him a little.

She was about to get into the seat, when her face went to shock and horror as she saw you sat in it.

“No –” She was cut off by Lincoln running back in and grabbing her and pulling her out; you sped and punched Hive to distract him before you then closed the ramp and fired the engines.

“NO!” Daisy cried out as Lincoln held her for as long as he could. She struggled in his grasp, finally she quaked him back and ran to main area on the Zephier.

She grabbed the radio, “Y/N…Y/N answer goddammit!” She yelled into it.

Hive was at the back, but not able to get to you; so that was good. You then heard your sister’s voice other the radio.

“Hey…Yeah, I’m here.” You assured her as you continued to climb in height.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” She continued to keep her voice at the same volume.

“Doing what I need to. As I told you, Dais, we only have a limited time here,” You laughed a little, “Besides, what was it Lincoln said? About all Inhumans having a purpose. Turns out, his was to try a lot of things in this jet. Sorry buddy.” You said as you saw the light blue give into darkness and stars.

You were almost there.

“Y/N, I swear to god. You turn that thing around right now!” She was like a mother scolding a child.

“Sorry, as I said, Lincoln fried a lot of things. In it for the long-haul now.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” She rushed through those words as tears started to fall. Your fate was sealed it seemed.

You continued to climb, the jet rocking a little in the process, “Y/N, please don’t do this. I can’t lose you; I can’t lose my best friend! I can’t lost my sibling!” She cried into the radio. You heard her crackle a little; you were losing signal.

“Look at that.” You said in a happy tone.

“What?” She said as she sniffled.

“You finally said it.”

“Said what?”

“That I’m your sib—” You were cut off before you could finish. And your blip went off.

  She was free, but at a massive cost. You were gone; she lost someone she’d had from pretty much the start of this journey and even before she met SHIELD. She had you in her corner, she always had you in that corner.

Now, there was a void there now that would never be filled again. She had lost a member of her family she never thought she would’ve. Granted, any member of that family going would probably have her in the same state.

But, losing you was different; you were her best friend from the start, you were her sibling she called her own first. She was the one she always knew would have her back even when she was in the wrong.

Now, you were gone. Now she was alone in that.

To her, the world was blank; sound was muffled and blurred.

However, she then looked up with her tear stained eyes, she met the eyes of Lincoln. The man looked at her with pained filled eyes. In his mind, it was meant to be him. But you’d pulled the rug out from under him again.

 She left a few days after; no note, no nothing. She was just gone, like a ghost. He wanted to go after her. But, after all this, he knew he’d be the last person she’d want to see. She was grieving, as were the whole team.

He did want her home back, though, with her family at some point. He knew her in a van alone would do nothing but make her self-hatred and survivors guilt intensify.

So, as much as he knew she wanted to drink or fight the pain away. He knew she wouldn’t be able to.

All she had know where the memories on you. She might not have thought much about them then. But she sure as hell was going to now. It was all she had left of you.

And she was going to fight for your memory for as long as she lived. In any way she could.

[megabadbunny]

In Lovers’ Meeting (5/?)

“Yeah, about that,” said the Doctor, his nose scrunching up in thought. “Did I mention I’m having something of an identity crisis today?”

A rewrite; dedicated to the absolutely wonderful @davinasgirlfriend​​ . <3

* * *

- Chapter 5 -

Wrung out from crying until her tears ran dry and only choking sobs remained, Rose didn’t hear the soft thump-thump-thumping overhead until perhaps the third thump or so. 

Bleary-eyed, Rose pushed back from the mattress, glancing up hopefully—was it her mum somehow, was it Jackie trying to communicate with her? Had the Doctor returned?—but her mother hadn’t moved, and there was no Doctor to be seen. Instead, Rose’s eyes traveled upward until she saw a black-tipped finger pressed to the glass of the observation window, tapping weakly. Rose followed the line of the finger down to the arm, to the body, up to the neck and the head, where a pale face stared at her from the hospital bed, past cables and cords and an oxygen-mask.

Sniffling, Rose scrubbed the heel of her palm across her face, wiping the tears away. “Sorry, mate,” she mumbled. “You’re probably trying to rest, aren’t you? I’ll keep the noise down.”

The patient shook his head, slowly. He tapped the window again.

Rose frowned. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “D’you need something? Should I go get Saito?”

Another slow shake of the head, and Rose watched as the patient’s arm moved, his finger pointing. Rose followed the line of sight over her shoulder to see cabinets, a counter, a sink, a faucet... 

A faucet, dripping water. Ah.

“Sure, no problem,” she said, hastily dragging her jacket-sleeve across her face to break up the itchy-dry layer of tears and makeup that had crusted on her cheeks. God, she probably looked a mess. “Gotta be pretty thirsty, yeah? Let’s get you a glass or something.”

It was difficult to tell with the mask over his face, but Rose thought she saw the patient smiling a little bit. Flashing him a watery grin of her own, Rose pocketed her forgotten sandwich and turned to search the cabinets, to see if they had any paper cups or anything she could use. “Be over in a tic,” she called to the other room. “Just got to get a cup or something, and a mask, too. Okay?”

The patient didn’t reply, but that was all right; despite how deeply bone-tired she was, it was honestly a little bit of a relief for Rose to give her restless hands something to do, and it was a huge relief that the patient, while in tenuous condition, was still alive. That gave Rose hope for her mum. Gave her a lot of hope.

Busy searching the cabinets, she didn’t notice the flatline crawling across a screen in the other room.

 ***

 Miranda’s body watched him, waiting. Expectant.

The Doctor slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he mostly meant it. “I can’t help you.”

Its eyelids fluttered in time with the lights flickering overhead. “Can’t help?” Miranda’s body asked, its voice dropping a register. “Or won’t?”

“The semantics of it are hardly relevant at this juncture, but honestly, it’s a mixture of both,” the Doctor replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Even if I wanted to help you get back home—and that’s a big if, considering that I’m not generally inclined to help murderers get what they want (and yes, in this case the semantics are relevant, because regardless of your motivations, you are, in fact, a bunch of murderers), but anyway—even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t. The holes between realities are sealed once again. There’s no way back.” 

“Liar,” the body growled.

“Afraid not. Not this time.”

“But the box—”

“The TARDIS is gone,” the Doctor replied curtly. “Believe me, I’m not all that pleased about it, either.”

“Liar!” Its face crumpled into an ugly grimace as it pointed an inkstained hand at the Doctor. “We smell it, we smell the magic on you!”

The Doctor’s hand closed around the lump of coral in his pocket. “I’m telling you, I can’t get you across the Void again, magic box or not. But I’m sure we can work something else out.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, now! It can’t all be death and destruction and chaos. There’s got to be another way. There always is, if you look hard enough.”

“No,” the corpse spat. “Home, or your friends die. There is no other way. No other way. None.”

“Good grief, you’re hopeless!” the Doctor said, pacing in exasperation. “No other way. What utter nonsense! How did you survive when you first arrived here, eh? You didn’t just start snapping up bodies first thing, did you? There must have been some kind of transitional period, some way you survived before you started hijacking human bodies.”

“Hardly anything left,” Miranda’s body told him. “What little survived, lived in the dark, and the damp. In warmth, and the cracks and depths of things.”

“Sounds delightful. Why didn’t you just stay put? Why’d you get the humans involved?”

“Burned,” said the corpse, twitching with the memory of it. “Suffocated. Had to flee.” It shivered, lips twitching. “Even now, it hurts us, scorching, eating away. Had to run.”

It fixed its oily-black gaze on the Doctor. “Still running.”

 **

 Rose adjusted her mask one last time and pulled on a pair of medical gloves with a satisfying smack before sliding into the other room with a cupful of water and a heavy sigh. Whatever the Doctor was working on, she hoped he’d figure out everything soon, not just for the sake of her mum and the others, but because Rose was starting to feel like she might drop the floor at any moment.

She was so, so tired.

“There you go, mate,” Rose said gently, steadying the patient’s trembling hand as he slipped up his oxygen mask to sip from the cup. “I know they’ve got you hooked into fluids and things, but I bet you’re still parched. And nothing beats a cold glass of water, yeah?”

Wordlessly, the patient nodded, glassy black eyes fixed on Rose.

“So I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said after he was done drinking, because the silence in the room was—well, she couldn’t quite put a word to the wrongness of it. It felt almost oppressive, somehow. “Are you new to UNIT?” she asked.

The patient nodded again.

“Well, this is a hell of a new job orientation, isn’t it?” said Rose, smiling wanly. “Sorry your welcome committee’s so rotten. We don’t normally chuck newbies straight into killer alien territory. We usually try to wait a reasonable amount of time. Like at least three weeks.”

With a jerk, the patient chuckled, his chuckle devolving immediately into a cough. Rose winced on his behalf, moved to help fit the oxygen mask back in place over his nose and mouth. But the patient feebly pushed her hands away, opening his mouth to speak. Only a ragged whisper emerged.

“Come again?” asked Rose.

“Jared,” the patient rasped through fluid-filled lungs. “Name. Yours?”

“Agent—I mean, Rose,” said Rose, internally kicking herself. “Rose Tyler.”

She held out her hand for Jared to shake, and he took it. Rose forced herself not to wince at the weakness of his grip or the heat of his skin, burning even through the medical glove. “Nice to meet you, Jared.”

“Mother?” asked Jared, tilting his head toward Jackie in the other room.

Sighing, Rose nodded, watching her mum through the window. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s my mum. She’s in the same state you are. Well, sort of. I mean, she’s still—you know. She—”

“Looks much better?” Jared coughed.

“I was going to say something at least a little more tactful than that,” Rose replied, and Jared laughed again, stifling a cough against his hand. Rose handed him the water cup again and he sipped at it, his face pinched in pain.

“You sure you don’t need me to go get Saito?” Rose asked, and held up the oxygen-mask, ready to slide it back into place.

Jared shook his head and pushed the mask away. “Just wanted water. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Rose replied, yawning.

“Tired?” asked Jared.

“You’ve got no idea.” Rose frowned. “Or maybe you do. I think you’re a little worse off than me, at the mo.”

“A little bit,” Jared chuckled, his chuckles subsiding back into a horrid, violent cough. Concerned, Rose reached for his oxygen-mask again, but he slapped her hands away—forcefully, this time.

“No,” Jared rasped. “No more.”

Rose frowned. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“No more.”

“But you need oxygen, Saito said—”

“No,” snapped Jared. “We don’t want it!”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jared’s sudden sharpness discomfited her, set alarm bells ringing vaguely at the back of her head, distressingly loud in the quiet room. But she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, couldn’t quite place what felt so wrong.

(Of course it made sense, Rose tried to reason through the exhaustion-fog clouding her head, that Jared might be angry or irritable—she could only imagine how angry she would be, if an unknown killer contagion was slowly eating her from the inside out. But that didn’t explain why he would turn down medical treatment, though—and why wasn’t Saito anywhere to be seen? And why was it so bloody quiet in there?)

Eyes flickering round the room, Rose’s gaze landed on the monitors next to Jared’s bed. Several of the cables sat dangling, unplugged from the wall, rendered mute and useless for the purpose of monitoring Jared’s vitals. But maybe Jared had just grown tired of the incessant beeps and chimes, Rose tried to reason to herself. That seemed understandable enough.

Either that, Rose thought with a mounting sense of dread, or Jared simply didn’t want anyone to monitor his vital signs.

Now the alarms ringing in her head were positively screeching.

“Sure thing,” Rose replied, forcing an easy and casual smile on her face as she set down the cup and backed away, slowly, under Jared’s wide-eyed and glassy glare. “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I…?”

She turned to open the door, then paused, her exhausted brain working overtime to catch up.

“Hang on,” she said. “Did you say we just now?”

A glance over at Jared revealed a slow smile crawling across charcoal-black teeth.

“Oops,” he said, softly.

 **

 “Yes, but what burned, what suffocated?” the Doctor demanded. “What’s eating away at you? None of this makes any sense—it’s like you’re talking about something huge, huge but somehow invisible, just these massive environmental changes forcing you to evacuate, but then why hasn’t anyone else noticed it? I looked over the reports and nothing’s changed in UNIT headquarters in the last twenty-four hours, nothing except—”

He stopped pacing. Except for reports of fresh paint, he remembered. Fresh paint, because of the—

“Mold,” he said slowly, disbelieving.

He turned to face Miranda’s body again, mind racing furiously with the realization, and it was like water rushing into a canyon, filling in the gaps of the story.

“You’re mold,” the Doctor said, louder now.

The corpse did not respond.

“That’s got to be it, hasn’t it?” asked the Doctor, growing more excited by the second. “It said in the reports, this building got a sudden case of mold. Black mold! And they tried to get rid of it, they must have done—and the chemicals they’d use, those would burn, and then the caretakers would paint over the stain—of course!” the Doctor shouted, hands running through his hair as his thoughts raced wildly inside. “Of course, you’d try to escape the burn of the bleach and the suffocation of the paint, but where else would you think to go, where else would suit you, what else is warm and cozy and damp and made up of oh-so-much water? Well, the human body’s just a perfect candidate, isn’t it? And it makes total sense, if you think about it—so many of the symptoms correlate with mold-related conditions like histoplasmosis or aspergillosis! Cos naturally, if you want to transform your human host into a forever-home, not just one you occupy telepathically, but one you inhabit physically, one you live in, you’ve got to make some significant changes to the chemical makeup, haven’t you? Changes that make a human body compatible with sentient mold!”

The Doctor whooped out loud, quite pleased with himself. “Ha! Telepathic killer mold from outer space—now that’s a new one, even for me! New new Doctor, indeed!”

“Now you know our secret. So help us,” Miranda’s body hissed, stalking toward the Doctor. “You must. This is what you do. This is who you are.”

“Yeah, about that,” said the Doctor, his nose scrunching up in thought. “Did I mention I’m having something of an identity crisis today?”

Grinning like the madman he was, the Doctor turned on his heel and sprinted away.

Behind him, Miranda opened her mouth wide and screamed.

 **

 Jared’s face twisted in a snarl as he sprang up from the bed, shrieking out an ear-splitting screech. But his lips and tongue didn’t move and it wasn’t Jared’s voice anymore, it wasn’t any one voice at all, it had to be a dozen at least, all of them screeching as one. The scream rose and wailed like a siren or some kind of shrill-roaring monster, rattling the hospital instruments and vibrating the glass in the observation window and striking like a dentist’s drill to the teeth. Eyes watering in pain, hands clamped instinctively over her ears, Rose doubled over, crying out against the scream.

 **

 Betrayal, Miranda’s body silently told its brethren as it shrieked, its call echoing in the halls with a sound like metal screaming against metal or the piercing howl of the winds in a tornado. Betrayal. Liar. Deceit.

Vengeance? came the reply, many voices clamoring as one. Stalk? Take? Kill?

Kill the mother. Kill the child, Miranda’s body demanded.

Take them all.

 **

 “New rules,” Rose heard Jared hiss over the ringing in her ears.

Rose dove for the door handle but there was a flurry of sound and movement behind her and suddenly a black-fingered hand cut an arc through her field of vision, Jared’s arm lunging from behind to loop around her neck in a chokehold. Without looking, without thinking, Rose grabbed Jared’s wrist and bicep and dropped to the floor, yanking him over her shoulder and flinging him down in front of her with a mighty thwack. Leaping over Jared’s body, Rose wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind her, swiping the psychic paper over the cardreader to override the controls and lock Jared inside. 

Through the observation window, she watched Jared as he rolled over and slowly rose from the floor, tapping a blackened fingertip against the glass of the observation window. It was good stuff, thick and embedded with wire—Jared was hardly the first hostile being UNIT had had the pleasure of hosting in its medbay, after all—and there was no way he’d be able to break through. He seemed to realize the same thing rather quickly, his gaze traveling from the wire in the window down to Rose. 

Rose wondered if she’d ever felt such a piercing hateful glare. She shuddered.

“Tricky,” Jared spat out along with a mouthful of black blood. Or his body did, anyway; Rose was fairly certain Jared wasn’t in there anymore. “Not enough to save you, though.”

Lights flickered overhead and something buzzed in Rose’s ears. She ignored it. “I like my odds,” she told Jared’s body.

Jared’s eyes flashed. “You shouldn’t.”

“Who are you?” Rose asked. “Cos it’s pretty clear you’re not Jared anymore. So who are you? And why are you doing all of this? What do you want?”

“What does anyone or anything want? In this whole wide universe? More than anything else?”

“Hard liquor and a long nap?” Rose suggested drily.

“Life,” Jared’s body hissed. “To live. To survive. To thrive. No matter the cost.”

“But that cost is us, isn’t it?” asked Rose, glancing down at Jackie, still prone and unconscious on her cot. “The people here. Our bodies, our lives.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The Jared-thing shook its head wordlessly.

“You’re hurting my mother,” said Rose, her voice hard. “Killing her.”

“Yes,” Jared’s body replied, flecks of its oil-spill spit peppering the window between them. “We seek, we listen, we hear. We follow the song. If the song invites us, if a door is opened, who are we to refuse?”

“You can always say no,” Rose shot back.

“We cannot,” said Jared’s body, and Rose could have sworn she saw something sad in its deep black eyes. “We hollow, we inhabit, or we perish. Die screaming. All of us. Each and every one. Fathers and mothers and children alike. All of us, dead.”

Sympathy welled up in Rose’s chest. Shaking her head, she stepped away from the window. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. But you can’t just kill people.”

Jared’s body cocked its head in an approximation of thoughtfulness. “Can’t we, though?”

Then, leaning forward, it whispered, “Haven’t you?”

Rose didn’t flinch. “I’m not gonna let you take my mum,” she said firmly. “And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else.”

A humorless smile stretched Jared’s lips thin. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyone else—like your magic-friend, you mean? Or your leaders, or your healer? Better hurry, if you want to help them.”

“Why?” Rose asked, dread growing cold in the pit of her stomach.

“Better hurry,” growled Jared’s body. “Better run.”

Mind racing, heart hammering in her throat, Rose turned and sprinted away.

“Run!” Jared’s body shrieked after her, its voice rising and screeching and ricocheting off the walls around them as its fists pounded against the window. “Run! Run! Run!”

 **

 Sprinting back down the stairs, back through the hall, the Doctor skidded to a stop outside the cafeteria—doors shut and blocked, he couldn’t see anything, though he could hear the shouts and sounds of a fight emanating from inside, but it sounded like the security team was holding their own, for the moment at least—and, casting wildly about, the Doctor searched the scattered items littering the floor, dropping to his hands and knees to better rifle through the mess until he found what he needed. Upended cart, rolls of paper goods, dust rags, rubbish bin liners, toolbox, air fresheners, spray cleaners, come on come on come on come on—

“Ha! Gotcha!” the Doctor shouted victoriously, grabbing his prize before he took off running again.

 **

 Run! Run! Run! rung in Rose’s mind, echoing over and over and over again in time with the  rhythmic slap of her boots against the floor. She prayed to whatever god might be listening that the window would hold Jared back, keep Jackie. Because as much as Rose hated it, as much as she hated leaving her, as much as it made her hate herself, she knew there was nothing else she could do for her right now. She had to do what she could to save everyone else in the building, to stop Jared’s kind from harming anyone else.

She’d do whatever it took.

“Saito!” she shouted, her heart pulsing painfully in her throat. “Saito, I’m coming—just hold on—”

Rounding the corner, Rose’s run faltered and slowed into nothing as she saw the physician—unharmed by the looks of it, thank goodness—huddled in a group of wide-eyed and terrified UNIT employees. Saito’s arms were flung in front of everyone else, a last-ditch effort to protect them all from the pitch-covered corpse looming over them.

“Let them go!” Rose demanded, stepping closer.

The corpse slowly turned to look at her, and behind it, Saito shook her head, the motion sharp. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get out of here!”

“Let them go,” repeated Rose, stepping closer still. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Take me, instead.”

The corpse looked at her, tilting its head in thought. “A generous offer,” it rasped, “but why accept, when we could take you all?”

Rose’s mind raced for a response. “Except you can’t, can you? Or you already would have done.”

The corpse did not reply.

“What was that you said earlier?” Rose asked. “Cos that was you, wasn’t it? All of you corpses, talking through Jared? That’s why he kept saying We. Like We follow the song. But what did he mean by that, exactly?”

No response from the corpse, and Saito and the others were silent as well, watching, waiting. Tense and afraid. 

“I mean, he clearly didn’t mean music. Not literally. But you are listening for something, aren’t you? You’re listening for a way in,” she reasoned aloud. “Something about opening doors, he said. So you can’t take any old human body and mind you want—something’s got to open the door. Something’s got to let you in, whether it knows it’s doing that, or not. Isn’t that right?”

Looking round at Saito, at everyone huddled behind her, Rose realized. “And most of us humans aren’t letting you in, are we?” she asked breathlessly.

“We only need time,” the corpse replied. “In time, all walls fall.”

“And is that time you can afford to spare, then?”

Once again, the corpse was silent. Seemed like as good a sign as any, Rose thought. Willing her hands not to shake, she peeled off first one glove, then the other.

“For god’s sake, what are you doing?“ asked Saito. Rose ignored her.

“If you let them go,” she said slowly, slipping off her mask, “if you let all these people right here go...”

She swallowed. “I’ll let you in.”

The corpse did not reply, merely watching her. Rose’s stomach churned uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny.

“Deal?” she asked.

After a few agonizing, seemingly endless moments, the corpse nodded.

Rose closed her eyes amidst the lights flickering overhead, breathing past the sounds of buzzing and her racing pulse thundering in her ears. The buzzing-sound filled her skull, reverberating louder and louder until her teeth were practically chattering from it, until the buzz became a drone became a disjointed symphony of mismatched voices, hissing and slithering and shouting and shrieking and demanding to be let in.

Swallowing hard, Rose thought of her mum, fighting for her life just a few rooms away. She hoped Jackie would understand. Jackie, and the Doctor.

She let her mask fall to the floor.

“What have I missed?” piped up a familiar voice, cutting through the noise. With a jolt, Rose’s eyes flew back open to see the Doctor standing at the door, a spray-bottle in hand, a manic grin on his face.

“Traveler,” hissed the corpse, turning toward the Doctor, hand reaching out.

“Or should I say,” the Doctor continued cheekily, eyes twinkling, “what have I mist?”

With that, he lifted the spray-bottle and sprayed the corpse in the face.

Inhuman screeching and a foul stench rent the air as the corpse fell to the ground, writhing and screaming and clawing at its ruined, melting face. Leaping back, Saito pushed the crowd with her, UNIT employees shielding their eyes, their mouths agape in terror. The Doctor continued to spray the body as it convulsed and shrieked in front of them. Thrashing violently, the corpse screamed one last time before it fell still, black fluid bubbling and frothing from its eyes and nose, its mouth and ears. Its face froze into a grotesque mask, features forever cemented in an openmouthed scream.

An uneasy hush fell over the room as everyone stared at the corpse. Several people pinched their noses against the stench.

Shaking all over, Saito stood, a hand clutched to her stomach. “What...” she tried to ask, her eyes glued to the corpse in horror. “How did you...? Is that bleach?”

”It is indeed,” replied the Doctor, spinning the spray-bottle in his hand, not unlike a cowboy with his pistol. Rose was half-surprised he didn’t pretend to blow smoke off the business end of it. “Industrial-strength. Best way to fight black mold.”

“Mold,” Saito repeated flatly.

“Yep! We’ve got ourselves some good ol’ fashioned infectious killer mold,” said the Doctor as he sauntered away from the corpse on the ground. “Well, I say ol’-fashioned, but whether it’s ol’ or new or in-between, I actually haven’t got a clue. Its age hardly matters, either way. What matters,” he said, planting himself firmly in front of Rose, “is that we’ve got a way to stop it, now. Thanks to me.”

“Modest as ever,” Rose replied drily, but she couldn’t help the smile that escaped her. The Doctor grinned widely in reply, nodding.

 **

 “And what about her?” asked the Doctor a few minutes later, as Saito rolled Jackie out to safety along with everyone else, locking the hallway behind her. “How’s she doing?”

“Fairly stable,” Saito replied. “Very little change one way or the other.”

The Doctor clicked his tongue. “Ah, well, better than change for the worse, I suppose.”

Rose watched as Saito pushed her unconscious mother into an adjoining room, forcing herself not to chew on her lower lip or the skin around her thumbnail, like she would have done oh-so-long ago. Her mother didn’t look any worse than she did a few minutes prior, but she sure didn’t look any better, either.

“And you?” the Doctor asked Rose, his voice low against the sounds of UNIT employees chatting quietly in the background. “Are you feeling all right? Any symptoms, anything I should be worried about?”

“Everything’s fine,” Rose replied. Thanks to you, she almost added, but she bit her tongue before it had the chance.

“So we know it’s mold,” she said instead, ignoring every impulse in her body that shouted at her to give the Doctor a hug, no matter how much she may want to offer reassurance, or receive it herself. “And we know we can use bleach against it. Will that stop it from going into people’s minds?”

“Ahh, I was just getting to that! The telepathy. You figured it out already! Of course you did, you’re brilliant. Speaking of which,” said the Doctor, positively beaming down at Rose, “well-done, you!”

Rose blinked. “Well-done, me, what?”

“Well-done, you, with the mandatory psychic training, that’s what.” The Doctor tucked his free hand into his pocket, rocking back on his heels. “Miranda might’ve dropped that little tidbit in conversation, before she...well,” he trailed off, and Rose could tell he was trying very hard not to glance back, not to look at the bleach-stinking corpse that several UNIT employees were dealing with behind him. “Point is, if it wasn’t for your training, we’d have a hell of a lot more bodies to deal with right now. Cos that’s how the mold invades, breaking into the mind first, hijacking its signals to alter the body on a molecular level, after. But if your psychic shields are strong enough—”

“Then they can’t get in,” Rose murmured.

The Doctor nodded. “Exactly. ”

“And of course Mum’s never undergone any kind of training like that, so she wouldn’t be able to stop it,” Rose continued tiredly, cursing herself yet again for her lack of foresight. “And let me guess—each of the infected UNIT employees were compromised, somehow.”

“That’s precisely it. For non-telepaths, psychic shields can be compromised by any number of things, stress or injury or illness or lack of sleep being chief among them. And all of the infected just so happen to be single caretakers of multiple children, busy nighttime workers, or people whose mental or emotional faculties were otherwise placed under an undue amount of stress. But that is not, in any way, your fault,” said the Doctor, grabbing Rose’s hand as if he could hear the self-recrimination flooding her thoughts. “Like I said, if you hadn’t installed that protocol, if you hadn’t taught the people here how to protect themselves against a psychic invasion, you would be contending with a lot more corpses right now. You’ve kept a lot of people alive, who wouldn’t be otherwise.”

Rose’s hand tensed in his grasp, her heart twisting guiltily behind her ribs. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she mumbled, sliding her hand out of his.

The Doctor tilted his head in confusion. “Do what?” 

“It’s been a rubbish day,” Rose said quietly, unable to look him in the eye, “and I’ve been horrible to you.”

He stared at her blankly.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” Rose muttered.

“I’m not being nice. I’m being honest.”

Rose allowed herself a small smile. “I guess that’s one of the good changes, huh?”

“All right, so let me get this straight,” Saito called out before the Doctor had a chance to respond. He turned to her with his eyebrows raised in surprise, like he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. “We just spray them all with bleach, and that’s it?” Saito asked, incredulous.

“If by we you mean Rose and me, then yes,” the Doctor replied. “You need to stay here and keep an eye on everyone, keep them safe.”

“But you’ve got a plan? And that plan is bleach?”

“That’s just part of it. Bleach won’t take care of everything; that’ll only corrupt the host-bodies, make them unfit for possession. The real thing is tracking down the physical hive mind and taking it out at the source.”

Rose frowned. “When you say taking it out, do you mean you’re gonna kill it?”

“No, I mean I’m taking it out for a nice dinner at Kitty Fisher’s,” the Doctor teased as Saito walked away, rolling her eyes at them both. “Yes, of course I’m gonna kill it. Any reason I shouldn’t?”

The real you wouldn’t, she wanted to say. “Is there any reason you should?” she asked.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, the Doctor slowly fished the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. “You said you’re not experiencing any symptoms, right?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild. “Mind if I give you a quick check just in case?”

“Why?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Just seems a little funny that you’re speaking in defense of the killers trying to murder your mum.”

“Of course I’m not defending that,” Rose said stubbornly, allowing the Doctor to gently tilt her head this way and that as he inspected her with the sonic. “But the mold—as silly as this sounds, it’s got a brain. It thinks, it talks. It’s a person, or people, or however that works. We can’t just kill it, can we? Haven’t we got to give it a chance?”

“It had its chance,” the Doctor muttered. “It is, as you might have noticed, shockingly easy to not-murder-people.”

“It’s acting out of desperation, isn’t it? Just trying to survive?”

“Well, so are we.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue but at the Doctor’s thumb glancing against her lower lip, suddenly she could think of very little else, even as she fought to ignore the warmth that fizzed up pleasantly at his touch. It was an accident, she told herself; this whole inspection was a purely clinical gesture, and he didn’t mean to touch her like that, in a way that made her heartrate speed up and her toes curl in her boots. Looking up at him, she caught his gaze and saw the concern in his eyes and she looked away again, telling herself not to be foolish, not to be taken in, because all good doctors are concerned about their patients, aren’t they? Never mind the purse of his mouth, the intensity of his gaze, the worry knit in his brow.

She couldn’t afford to be distracted, anyway, she told herself firmly. Not right now.

“Are you killing them to stop them hurting anyone else,” she forced herself to ask, “or to punish them?”

The Doctor’s gaze hardened. He pulled back. “Does it make a difference?” he asked.

Yes, Rose wanted to argue, of course it does, but the words didn’t sit quite right in her thoughts. They were her words, her thoughts, that much she knew. But something about them was off. Like a bit of a drone in her head. A bit of a buzz, almost, and in the background noise of her mind, was that a quiet chorus of voices she heard?

She suddenly noticed how very, very warm she felt.

Like she had a fever.

“Come on,” the Doctor said quietly, urging her along with a hand to the elbow. “We haven’t got time for squabbles. We’ve got to round up some more bleach, find the hive-mind, and kill it before it takes anyone else. Okay?”

Nodding numbly, Rose followed, resisting the urge to glance back at the darkened hall and rooms behind them, where she knew Jared still lurked, waiting. Instead, as the Doctor pulled her along, Rose snuck a look down at her hand, mounting dread thundering through her veins.

There, just beneath the nailbeds, she could spot the faintest hint of black.

  ***

  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Next Chapter (forthcoming)

[curse-of-the-dark-emerald]

Curse of the Dark Emerald, chapter 3.

Back at Green Hill, Tom tossed a few times in his bed, trying so hard to get to sleep. But everything he tried, he couldn’t shut off his brain. He glanced at Maddie, her back facing the opposite of his gaze, she didn’t seem to be bothered or notice his restlessness.

He gave up trying to ignore the growing worry for Sonic. Tom pushes the blanket away and stands up slowly, making sure not to disturb his wife.

“I’m overthinking, I’m overthinking…”

Tom left his room and went to the ladder and stairway to the attic, and stood on the spot, deciding if checking on him was really a good idea this late in the night. He scratches his hair nervously and it thought, it was now or never. Tom was inches off from touching the floorboards, but stopped.

Tom shook his head and sighs heavily “I’m such a worry-wart.”

Tom gets back in his room and glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand; reading 2:32 am. He needed to be up in 4 hours for work, and this wasn’t helping him. Tom gets back in bed and just after a few minutes, he finally goes into slumber.

…

Sonic awoke and jolted his body up, eyes flashing to ocean blue for a moment and froze.

“Where-? I was..”

Immediately, confusion settled in and he sluggishly stood up, and made a run for it, only to be hit face-first into a wall of glass. “Ack!!”

Taking a moment to actually scan his surroundings, he saw a new opening, Sonic made another leap and ran to escape, only to have the same result. He continued to ram himself  into the walls though he knew it wasn’t working, each time it put his body in pain, each time he cried and yelled at every hit.

“Hey!! Anyone there?!”

Sonic’s heart began to throb and race against his chest, his eyes frantically looking for a way out, he jumped the highest he possibly could, reaching under 15 feet but it was still too high to climb or reach. Sonic grit his teeth and more panic took over. He pounded his hands on the glass, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to not be afraid, and the one person who could be responsible for all this…

“You’re awake?”

A voice on speaker somewhere within this glass prison crackles, Sonic looks up, a man with somewhat dark skin, a short beard, and gentle smile stares back.

“Good to see you’re still alive, what was your name again? Sonic?”

Sonic only glares at the man, teeth grinding, “Who are you?”

“I’m Agent Stone, close assistant to someone you...should already know.” Stone nods his head at Sonic, in a pleasant demeanor.

“Yeah, I pieced that together, right before you knocked me out.” Sonic’s voice turns sharp and cold at him.

“Don’t worry about my boss, he’s not actually here at the moment.” Stone gestured with his hand, “You’ll just be with me for now.”

“You think I’m gonna just sit in your little fish aquarium, and you what? Drown me?” Sonic retorts, keeping one brow raised at Stone.

“Jeez, someone’s a little morbid.” Stone panned, and shook his head. “No, Sonic. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that...you know..” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyways, my mission is half finished; you were pretty easy to catch as long as I wasn’t seen by you. And might as well tell you why you’re here: Your purpose is to simply charge power to my bosses machines. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Sonic caught a glimpse of something in Stone’s expression, was it doubt, or fear? He didn’t sound all that convinced to himself. Sonic noticed that he didn’t have the Rings with him or the Emerald anymore, creating a painful knot in his stomach.

“Damn it..”

Bzzt -”Hurry up, Stone, or else I’ll finish you off first.”-

Stone flinched and hastily started pushing buttons. Sonic’s ears twitch at the voice from the speaker, he knew that voice and confirmed it,

“It IS Eggman. But where??” He tried to look for his enemy, but saw him nowhere.

Sounds of whirring and machinery became louder, making the glass tube he was contained in to vibrate. Sonic knew he was in serious trouble, he desperately looked for a way out. Cursing at himself that he should’ve been more careful in the first place…Stone was concentrated on the dash in front of him, jumpstarting the necessary power and programs to begin whatever it was Sonic feared he was going to do. After a few more moments, Stone grins.

“Finished that. You ready, Sonic?”

Sonic glares at him again.

“Good enough.”

Stone holds up a bright, green object in his hand, “I assume you already know what this thing is?”

Sonic’s eyes went wide and gasped. “The...Chaos Emerald?”

“Sure, if that's what you wanna call it.” Stone shrugged, and left his spot.

Sonic’s weary gaze never left following the accomplice of his enemy, as he carried the Emerald.

“I ran a small test on this object, it has a lot of radioactive-like energy, but not toxic in any shape or form so I can touch it, it seems. You, and it should be enough to complete the procedures.”

He climbed on an upper catwalk that Sonic could see enough to watch him. Stone opened a metal door to a new chamber with a wide window; and set the Emerald in the center of the chamber on top of a flat surfaced support beam. Stone quickly returns to his original post.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Sonic spat sharply.

“Oh, I know.” Agent makes a brief smile at him while he glances at Sonic, then focuses back on the control panel.

“Don't worry, I’ll make it quick. I honestly am impressed with how brave you are. If this goes smoothly, you might live.”

What’s with this guy? He’s definitely not like Eggman, so he’s kind of nice..?

Sonic blinks rapidly, trying to not fall for this man’s showcase of kindness and complements.

“Yet, I’m here, because I was so stupid.” Sonic’s voice trembles, it was low enough for Stone to not hear it.

“Initiating power-point.”

A cool, robotic voice echoed throughout, Sonic looks at Stone for any changes, or any chance this man might change his mind and let him go, but he could tell Stone was now avoiding any eye contact. Sonic’s head dipped down. He sat on his knees, his soft ears drooping downward.

“Powering at 20%...”

“I’m so stupid…”

The machines began to point lasers at the Chaos Emerald in the other room, a metal prong touches the top of it, getting ready to extract and connect it to the machines Stone desired to make stronger for his Master.

“Powering at 50%”

“I’ll never see them again.”

Sonic closed his eyes, head still down looking like a wounded puppy. He’d forgotten at the moment where he was and what was about to happen. His thoughts went to Tom and Maddie, missing their smiles. Their laughter, their hugs.

“Powering at 75%..”

“I HATE myself…” Sonic makes a guttural growl in his throat.

In the chamber with the Chaos Emerald...the vibrant green color in it’s center fades briefly to a darker shade of emerald green. Then for a second, to a grayish black. And back to it’s normal green. Sparks of its energy popped in the air, making the window nearby actually crack from the inside.

“90%”

Stone only saw for a second Sonic unresponsive with his head bent down. He wished he didn’t. His own chest tightened with what he tried to hold back: guilt. He pushed the turmoil away to finish what he started, placing his hand on the trigger to start the extraction.

“93%”

Sonic knew he was going to die. In what he felt would be his final moments, his mind flashes countless images of his guardians. Every moment he spent with them was the happiest he had ever felt. He would have given anything to be with them again, talk to them..let them know he was leaving for good. That bare minimum of time he wished he could have, would never come to be.

“I hate myself…” A single tear rolled down Sonic’s cheek.

The Chaos Emeralds hue began to fade….

“Power, complete.”

Stone pulls the trigger. Sparks of white electricity light up at the top of the holding chamber to Sonic’s prison and they plunged downwards through the glass.

Sonic let out a blood curdling scream. He lurches his body up, seizing from the pain caused by the machines.

“UUUAAAAGGHH!!”

Stone watched the monitor closely,  scanning the amount of power being taken away from the Chaos Emerald and from Sonic simultaneously. A digital scale on the monitors revealed a blue colored energy leaving Sonic’s small body, and from the Chaos Emerald, it’s own separate energy was, he saw, destabilizing. Stone hoped it wouldn’t overflow too much.

Sonic slumps over and then falls to the floor, letting his arms support him up. He grit his teeth so hard he thought his jaw was going to break. The Emerald loses all traces of its green color and begins to morph out wisps of black smoke, becoming dark.

Suddenly, something was happening.

Stone finally looked at Sonic and his eyes grew large at what he began to witness…

Still screaming in agony, Sonic glared at Stone with the most enraged and angry scowl.  He put his hands on his head, shaking uncontrollably, while his muscles and body throbbed and wriggled.. Sonic’s teeth began to enlarge into sharp, longer fangs, his sky blue fur darkens to navy. His gloves rip and become torn apart revealing elongating claws at his fingertips and tufts of long, white fur breaks through the skin of both his wrists. The rest of his entire body shifts into a bigger build and height. Sonic’s sneakers were still intact, but metal spikes poked out from it’s material. His once neatly, smooth quills began to grow longer, with coarse, white fading tips at the end. Still shaking from the pain, Sonic let out a ferocious roar.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Stone realizes he was not safe anymore and makes a run for it.

Sonic has had enough, and with his sheer strength alone, breaks his prison of glass walls into thousands of pieces, shattering the entire tube. He jumps out, hand outreaching for his enemy, wanting to tear out his throat. Sonic looks everywhere for Stone, wanting his blood. This new desire didn’t make him question what he was thinking, he wanted to kill and slice something, no matter what it was.

Briefly coming to his senses, he growled in annoyance and went to the other room with the Chaos Emerald, he smashed the window from outside, and furiously grabbed it back in his possession. Along the way, his eyes spotted his pouch of Rings sitting close to where Stone had been standing before.

“You’re lucky Stone. Maybe next time you catch me, you won't be.” Sonic sneers to himself, his green eyes narrowed into slits.

Sonic jumps high and breaks through the metal enclosed ceiling, finally free. He roared again, letting out his anger and fear from being captured. The now full moon shone and bathed him in its light, revealing the new beastly shape in its wake. Sonic lands and runs, noticing he wasn’t going as fast like he usually does, but pushes that aside. Still angered and hurt by what had become of him, he howled like a lone wolf in the night. None of this made him question it; to him it felt natural and as if he was like this his whole life. The Sonic he had always known as himself was swallowed aside. After calming down just a little, Sonic had stopped running and walked at a regular pace. His mind was in a daze and then he remembered what was most important:

He held the blackened Chaos Emerald above his head, a fascination washed over him, it’s current presence was an entirely different entity. But he was happy it wasn’t in his enemy’s hands. Sonic holds it tightly and in the other hand he opened the pouch for his Rings and takes one,

“I have to..to get home-“

An explosion to his right side blows dirt on him and he jumped, scared out of his skin. Sonic growls, his anger returns again and a white, egg shaped robot hovering above him. Several were along with the one that made the first explosion.

“UGH!!! Leave me ALONE!!”

More of the robots fired at different times and Sonic evades every one, tired of being reminded and chased by the one who has tried and failed to kill him he leaps into the air, grabs the nearest bot and squeezes it into his chest, crushing it to pieces. Not wanting to prolong this stupid fiasco, Sonic makes a run for it, the bots follow and continue to fire at him mercilessly. Sonic tosses the golden ring that he depended on to save himself, his expression desperate to survive.

The ring opens, on the other side was the one place he called his home and jumped in; but a robot had managed to land a strike on his back, before cutting off the rest of the fleet. Sonic lands on his chest.

“Ugh…” Sonic winced at the new injury he was slapped with. He weakly sees the house just before him.

“Tom..!” He cried in a broken voice.

He needed to see his best friend. He needed to get to him. But, the cruelty of the long night had taken a toll on his strength; and Sonic had given up trying to stand up.

He wasn’t far from the patio of the house; the front door opened and Tom closed it behind him. He turns to see a patch of blue fur, it was Sonic lying on the ground, he froze in horror and drops his car keys. 

“S-Sonic!?”

“Donut lord..” Sonic called Tom's nickname, he felt a little sense of relief to see him.

“What happened?! What-“ Tom pauses and finally sees what had become of Sonic, he was almost unrecognizable; the fur, claws, and teeth gave it all away, his arms and back were almost covered in blood from cuts and little pieces of glass sparkled faintly on his messy fur.

“What happened to you?” Tom breathes out a scared, and shaky voice.

Sonic was too weak to answer, and he finally passed out. Tom turned him over on his back, listening for his heart beat, and it was moderately beating, to his hopes. The sun begins to rise and it’s light crept onto Sonics hand and on Tom, welcoming the new morning. Sonic’s body spits out purple wisps of an unknown energy to Tom, engulfing the hedgehog until it vanishes, and Sonic's appearance returns to his normal blue fur.

Tom turns in different directions to see if anything was watching him and he picks up Sonic, and carries him into the house to treat his wounds. 

[buckmecaptain]

Violence

(Image is not mine)

Pairing: None, really.  F!Reader/OC flirts hard with all 3 men

Word Count: 2168

Summary:  After a weapons-smuggling bust involving Hydra, Captain America, The Falcon, and the Winter Soldier chase down the last few bad guys and run into a quirky and rough SHIELD agent whom Bucky has yet to meet.  (Cap and Sam have known her for a while)

Warnings: Mentions of weapons, heavy flirting, physical violence and dead bodies.  Nothing too descriptive or explicit.

A/N:  This is my first fic posted here on Tumblr, and it is in response to a prompt from @stars-inthe-sky​  who gave me permission to use the prompt/incorrect quote they posted and said they would like to read the fic.  Thank you for giving me the inspiration and a bit of a push to write this! <3

SO... I got some anon hate over the "sexual chocolate" line in dialogue between 46 and Sam. It is a reference to one of my favorite movies, which is also the very favorite movie of my dear, dear friend Dashawn- "Coming to America". He adores iced mocha, as well ( calls it his sexual chocolate) and absolutely has the hots for Anthony Mackie. :D That was my little nod to my friend

It was all over but the clean up work. A huge alien tech weapons bust had been made in Midtown Manhattan, the contraband confiscated and most of the criminals -a Hydra splinter cell- apprehended.  Time to chase down the stragglers.  That task was up to the three-man team of Captain America, the Falcon, and the Winter Soldier.

"Team Cap, head over to fifty-third off Jackson," Sam called out over the comms,  "Redwing spotted the last seven hostiles near Schein And Lobell's attorney's office.  Headed that way now."

Steve swore under his breath and gestured at Bucky to follow him.  "Repeat, Sam.  You said Schein and Lobell's?"  

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  Better move it," the Falcon confirmed as he soared overhead.

"C'mon, Buck, gotta hurry," Steve urged.

Puzzled at his friend's burst of urgency, Bucky nodded and turned to follow.  "What would Hydra want with a lawyer's office?"

"It's not the lawyers they're after, pal.  It's a couple of doors down that concerns me, and we need them alive for questioning," came the terse reply.

Shrugging, Bucky picked up his pace, and within moments both soldiers rounded the corner of Fifty-third Avenue.   Steve came to a sudden stop, almost causing his teammate to crash into him from behind just as the Falcon dropped down beside them.

"What the hell?"  Bucky drew his pistol as they surveyed the scene before them: Five Hydra operatives in black tactical gear were lying on the street, unmoving.  He approached and nudged them one by one with the toe of his boot.  

"Dead. One shot each.  Sniper's accuracy," he ascertained.

The Captain immediately whirled around, scanning the rooftops for shooters.  "You see anyone above as you were flying in, Sam?"

"Nah, man.  Complete silence.   It's Forty-six.  This... this could be bad, Cap.  Seven is not a small number when we're talking about trained Hydra agents." he warned, gazing at the shop in front of which the agents were lying. Kitty's Sweets.

"Oh boy," Steve exhaled loudly, hanging his head. "Get ready."  He squared his shoulders and faced the shop, Sam shaking his head and grinning at his side.

Bucky readied himself and his weapon.  Just as he opened his mouth to acknowledge the order, the huge plate glass window of the shopfront exploded outward, slivers spraying in all directions, followed by the body of another Hydra operative.

Captain America led the charge, shield raised, and the three Avengers burst into the bakery.  As expected, the interior of the once adorable sweet shop was a mess;  pastel-painted tables and chairs broken and scattered all over the dining space, cash register and displays overturned, glass and bits of baked goods and blood splattered everywhere.

In the midst of the chaos was a strong, curvy woman in an adorable lavender and baby pink striped retro waitress uniform - short and ruffled, complete with an apron- standing over the seventh Hydra agent, her right hand fisted in his tactical vest and the left landing backhand after backhand.

She. Was. Pissed.

"Do you have ANY idea," she snarled, "how long it took me to decorate six dozen gourmet cupcakes?" SLAP! "It takes patience!" SLAP.  "Talent!" SLAP. "Energy! "SLAP.  "Did I mention talent?" SLAP SLAP.  "And YOU, you fucker.... you busted in here and tried to stab me." SLAP.  "Then your clumsy ass slammed into the case and smashed' SLAP "them" SLAP "ALL!"

Seething, chest heaving with, she swung her right arm behind her, forefinger raised in a "Be right with you" gesture toward the three Avengers, then dropped hard onto one knee on the agent's crotch.  As he gasped and cried out from the pain, she landed a hard punch to his nose.  Smirking at the sound of crunching bone, she stood and turned to face the newcomers.

"Okay, fellahs.  This one is still in decent enough shape to take in for questioning."

Bucky, mouth agape, muttered to no one in particular, "God, I love that in a woman."

Sam side-eyed him and smirked.  "What, Passion?"

The long-haired soldier shook his head. "Violence."

Steve stepped toward her and nodded. "Agent Forty-six, always a pleasure."

Forty-six chuckled and smoothed back her wildly disheveled hair.  Generous cupid's bow lips turned up and her lashes fluttered coquettishly. "It could be a pleasure.  I mean, I've offered but you never take me up on it."

Steve blushed and cleared his throat.   "Wanna fill us in on the details?" he deflected, gesturing to the last intact table in the shop, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

"Sure thing, Cap.  Might as well feed y'all while I'm at it.  There's still a bunch of pastries that didn't get ruined. Afraid I only have iced coffee though.  Fuc--- uh, jerks broke the coffee pot and espresso machine.  What'll you boys have?" She rattled on as she busied herself with washing her hands, back to business as if she hadn't just bested seven Hydra operatives without suffering so much as a scratch.

"Big ol' iced mocha. Dark and super sweet, just like me," Sam called out with a grin.

Forty-six laughed.  "Sammy, you know in my head I call that drink 'Sexual Chocolate'."

Sam guffawed.  “Hey, babygirl, we’ve gotta get together and watch that movie again!”  He received an enthusiastic nod and an "It's a date!" in reply.

Bucky's eyes went saucer-wide and Steve facepalmed at the nickname.

"Iced Americano for you, mon Capitan?  And you, Mr. Hotness-who-has-not-been-introduced-to-me-yet, what would you like?" As she offered, she turned to face the men and Bucky got his first real look at Agent Forty-six. Even with her hair a mess and makeup smeared, he was instantly smitten, causing him to lose the ability to speak when he locked eyes with her.

"Aw, kitty cat got your tongue, handsome?" she teased, "How about a large iced, extra creamy, lots of sugar, whipped cream with caramel drizzled all over the top?  Sticky sweet and it'll keep you awake for hours," she offered with a wide-eyed innocent smile.

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what Frosty needs.  Been ages since he had something sweet," Sam confirmed, fighting back laughter.  

Steve glared at Same, then lay his head on the table and groaned.  "For the love of Pete, Forty-six.  Why are you like this?"

She rounded the counter with two trays piled impossibly high with food and drinks. As she placed the trays onto the table, she reached down and ruffled Steve's hair.  

"Well, Captain," she began in a throaty, sultry voice, "I've offered to be any way you want me, so it's your fault.  I'm just waiting for your...command."  She winked at Sam and Bucky and took a seat.

After a quick briefing on the altercation with Hydra, Forty-six pushed her chair back and regarded Bucky thoughtfully.  "So..." she began, leaning back and stretching tired muscles, “James Barnes, yeah? Winter Soldier, now Fist of the Avengers, super soldier, metal arm, best friend of Captain America?"

He found his voice long enough to reply with a quiet "yeah."

"Nice," she grinned, "So is there some sort of restriction in place to join the team?  'You must be this hot to enter', or what?  'The Earth's Panty-droppingest Heroes?  Jeezus-please us, Fury cornered the market on-"

"Forty-six, please," Steve interrupted.  He sighed and rubbed his temples before continuing. "Yes, this is James Barnes – Bucky, to his friends- and yes he is an active team member now.  No, there is no restriction.  You know that wouldn't be allowed, especially in this day and age."

She whistled.  "Look at you, all PC and stuff.  Honey, I was just yankin' your chain.  You know me.  I'll have all the required forms submitted before nine tonight, don't worry.  I'm a capable agent, despite how I might sound."   She stood and pushed the chair back into place.  "Great seeing you guys again.  Bucky, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I know you'll be a strong addition to the team." She graced him with a tight but genuine smile and moved to the stock room to check for supplies to board up the window.

Bucky regained his voice and senses after she left. "That's some dame.  She always like that?"

"Like what, flirty?" Sam grinned.  "Yeah, she's got a mouth on her, she's like Tony in that way, but she's more than capable. Nearly unstoppable in the field.  I've seen her accomplish some extraordinary feats, and if you need a marksman she's your woman."

Steve hummed in agreement.  "Yes, but she's got a quick temper, and that gets her saddled with the lower-end assignments.  Highest kill-count in SHIELD history... as you can probably tell by the bodies outside.  That makes her dangerous and a liability."

"Cap, she's more than competent and loyal to a fault," Sam reasoned.  "I'd be just as happy for her to have my back as one of you guys.  Give her a shot, man."

Heaving a defeated sigh, Steve stood.  "You're right.  I'll go talk to her."

Sam nodded.  "Good call."  Turning to Bucky, he smiled slyly and offered, "She's also single, Barnes.  Very available.  And in case you didn't notice, she's hot."

The soldier coughed and took a long drink of his iced coffee concoction.

Forty-six's rummaging around was interrupted by a throat clearing behind her.   Not bothering to turn around, she called over her shoulder, "I hope y'all will take home a couple of big boxes.  The baked goods will go stale and I hate for them to waste."

"I'm sorry."

She turned to see Steve wringing his hands, a penitent expression on his perfect face, his shoulders hunched and .drawn in.  It made the formidable Captain America look smaller and somehow quite vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I ran out of patience with you, Forty-six.  I'm still trying to balance duty and professionalism with basic... human instinct, I guess."  He hung his head and shifted from foot to foot.  "I'm not judging you for the things you say. I just can't process them quickly enough.  I respect you, very much," he paused and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, controlled.  "Sometimes it's difficult to reconcile that respect with bawdy language and sexual innuendo."

As he stared at the floor and the tips of his ears turned bright pink, Forty-six smiled softly.  Heart melting for the Captain, she approached him and lifted his chin with a forefinger, searching his eyes with her own. "You're a good man, Steve Rogers.  I appreciate you." She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, then turned back to

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her task, missing the goofy grin on Steve's face.

He helped her carry the plywood to the front of the shop and the four made short work of boarding the shattered window as SHIELD agents removed the subdued Hydra operative.

"Well, that's that," she frowned as she dusted off her hands.  "Y'all want to take the boxed goods with you now, or do you want me to have them delivered to the tower?"

"Yes to all!" Sam cheered.  "You could just come back with us and crash there for a while.  I'm sure the team would love to see you."

Forty-six turned and entered the shop, muttering "Sure, sure they would."

Bucky shot Sam and Steve a look, to which Steve responded with a mouthed "tell you later."

A few minutes later, the four piled themselves and multiple boxes of baked goods into Forty-six's Jeep and were on their way to Avengers Tower. Sam reached over the seat and tugged her ridiculously cute uniform sleeve.   "You are keeping the outfit though, right?"  He winked at her in the rearview mirror.

She chuckled.  "Nah, I don't think these are my colors.  Besides, it makes my ass look fat.  I've gotta say, I'm looking forward to not having to get up at four in the morning to bake.  Another shi-  er, crummy gig in the books.  Wonder where Fury will send me next?" She pulled over in front of the Tower entrance and turned to grin at the guys.  "Home sweet home!  See y'all the next time I have to beat some ass.  Tell Tony I said 'hey', and nice to meet you, James."

The heroes said their goodbyes and made their way inside.

In the elevator, Sam broke the silence.  "Well, as run-ins with Forty-six go, that one was incredibly mild."

Bucky snorted.

"I'm serious!  The last time, there was a two-block wide explosion, a half-ton of gummy bears, and an ostrich. Then just when we thought the roof was gonna collapse on-"  Sam was interrupted by the elevator doors opening to reveal an agitated Tony Stark.

"I see bakery boxes.  Many bakery boxes," he gestured toward them with a wagging forefinger.  "What I do not see is coffee, and what else I do not see is my favorite baker. You three had the audacity not to bring Forty-six up here to visit her favorite genius?"  He stomped toward the common area as he ranted.

Sam and Steve chuckled as they dropped off the boxes of baked goods, then toward their rooms for showers, Bucky following suit, still puzzling over earlier events.

"Wait!” he shouted, "What happened to the gummy bears and the ostrich?"

There we go.  My first, very mild (in all ways) submission to Tumblr.  Anxiety is going to eat my face now.

[writinginstardust]

Do Anything | Part 4

Pairing: Tyler Jones x reader

Warnings: some violence

A/N: Last part guys. You ready for the happy (ish) ending? I have a real weak spot for angsty reunions and kisses and confessions fuelled by almost losing the person you love so I hope to god I managed to do that justice here. Need to thank @writingbychelle for all the help and motivation she gave me while writing this fic. I wrote most of part 2 as well as all of part 3 and 4 in one day and I don’t think I could have managed pretty much any of it without her x

Word Count: 1653

*

I knew Tyler meant for me to go to the control deck where Cat and Fin were probably waiting but I couldn’t just leave him. I did do as he asked and stayed on the ship though, hovering by the airlock door and watching everything unfold. It felt so wrong not to go and help but I was in no condition to be anything but a hindrance right now. We’d all seen just how little use I’d be already. So I watched. Heart hammering as things got messy and the squad put their lives in danger yet again.

Auri was a sight to behold. She’d clearly been training a lot in the last month or so and was in total control of her frightening level of power. That would be why everyone had seemed so quietly confident. With Auri doing what she was, we really could get out of this alive. All of us this time.

As I watched, she turned 20 agents - TDF and GIA alike - into little more than piles of mush, barely pausing before pulling the weapons of half the force from their hands and turning them on their former owners. The disruptor fire that followed was deafening, the TDF and the squad firing on each other at once. After throwing a few more swaths of troops backwards, Auri made a run for it and it was honestly frightening.

Her eye was still glowing as she directed her power to do something, what I couldn’t tell though, and raced towards me, face like a raging storm. I almost pitied the agents that had come up against her. Almost. But not really. They could all rot in hell.

The ship came alive beneath me as Auri reached the airlock and collapsed on the ground beside me, quickly turning to face the opening again. It was only then that I realised what she was doing as her power slipped away from her trip. She was holding back the disruptor blasts and keeping the ships grounded. All of them at once. Great Maker she was strong.

Tyler, Scarlett, Zila, and Kal piled into the airlock and Cat took off, not waiting to get it closed much like last time. It closed automatically at a certain altitude anyway. It slid shut and the decompression cycle ran. The moment it was done and the inner door slid open, Kal took off running with Auri in his arms, Tyler and Zila not far behind.

Scarlett helped me to my feet and threw my arm over her shoulder, half dragging me as we ran through the halls to the control deck. The chaos continued, more of an organised chaos this time though. Auri was situated at an auxiliary station, staring intently out of the window, eye still glowing fiercely. Was she ever going to run out of power? Tyler was helping Cat maneuver through the mass of ships firing on us, all the while frantically punching coordinates into the Nav systems. Kal and Zila were trying to return fire and actually hit something.

I slumped into the chair beside Auri that Scarlett led me over to. She helped me buckle up as I tried to figure out what it was Auri was doing now. My answer came soon enough when the battle cruiser I’d been captive on for the past month was torn in half. I gaped as Scarlett moved on and strapped Auri in too before heading to her own seat, I could kiss her right now. Now I’d never have to see that place again. Part of me wished that I could have destroyed it myself somehow but what mattered was that it was gone and with it, just about everyone who had hurt me.

“Everyone in?” Tyler asked, voice strained. A chorus of affirmations. “Cat, Auri, you ready?” They both nodded. “Alright. Punch it!”

The ship rocketed forward and I was pressed back into my seat. This ship had never moved so quickly, no ship I’d ever heard of had. I looked over to Auri. Her teeth were gritted, nails digging into the arms of her seat, blood trickling from her nose. She was doing this. And from the looks of it, she was also ripping apart half the ships around us.

We raced to the nearest foldgate. I knew this area. It should have taken at least 5 minutes. It didn’t even take 1.

The girls didn’t let up, Cat helping out by pushing the engines to the limits as we entered the fold. Colour faded away but Auri continued to shine like a beacon as she pushed us forward. My vision started to blur, the g-force becoming too much when added to the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins and the weak state of my body. It all faded away to nothing.

*

I woke up in pain in a bright room on a threadbare mattress. Panic surfaced instinctively. I was back in the cell, they’d come for me any moment. That week long reprieve was over. There was a hand gripping my own tightly and I instinctively jerked away, squeezing my eyes shut again and trying - and failing - to keep my breathing even.

“Shh, (Y/N), it’s okay. You’re okay.” That voice. I knew that voice. My heart started racing for a different reason.

“Tyler?” My voice sounded terrible and weak to my ears but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah. It’s me.” I heard him shift and felt the mattress dip beside me. I hesitantly opened my eyes again, worried that when I did, he wouldn’t really be there. He was. I let out a choked sob and threw myself into his arms, my body screaming in protest. Everything flooded back. Finally leaving the battle cruiser, getting to the spaceport, seeing Tyler, Auri destroying everything, speeding away into the fold. Then it went blank. I had no idea where we were now.

“Is everyone…”

“They’re fine. No one’s hurt.”

“You shouldn’t’ve...Shouldn't have come. You could have been killed.” As I said it, I started crying harder. He’d come for me. He’d come. For me.

“So could you.”

“Tyler-”

“(Y/N). There is nothing in this galaxy or any other that could have stopped me. I will always come for you.”

“You’re an idiot,” I whispered into his shoulder as I held him closer.

“I’m not the one who volunteered to stay behind on an enemy ship.”

“I remember very clearly that you did.” He chuckled a little at that. “I’m glad it wasn’t you. I couldn’t bear it if it was you.”

“It should have been me.” I felt a tear drop onto my neck as his arms tightened around me and I gasped out in pain. He pulled back immediately, concern written in the lines of his face. I pulled him back though, not caring how much it hurt. Not being pressed against him for a second hurt more and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, arms winding back around my waist.

“Don’t be. I’d do it all again if I had to.” His arms tightened again but he didn’t pull away when I hissed out a breath this time.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again. Promise me you won’t.” I hesitated for a moment. “Please.” And his voice was so broken I found myself agreeing.

“I promise.” I just hoped we never had to test that promise. I didn’t want to break it but I wouldn’t hesitate if it kept Tyler safe. I would do anything to keep him safe. “I love you,” I whispered as an afterthought. I suspected he might somehow have known I said it before but I needed him to hear it for sure. And I wanted to do it properly. Now the heat of the moment and the panic of imminent death was gone. Now there was nothing but the two of us, alone in a room on some far-off planet. There was space and time and no adrenaline to diminish the meaning behind the words.

“I love you too,” he replied. Such a simple declaration, but it was everything. The words settled in my heart and spread to every part of me. They changed everything but nothing at all.

He pulled back just enough to lean down and kiss me. It wasn’t the first time but I’d felt all the other kisses through pain and panic. Now though, now there was just him and the warm, steady press of his lips against mine.

I could tell he was holding back, trying not to hurt me, but I didn’t care if he did. I wasn’t going to break. I needed to feel everything. Threading my fingers through his hair, I deepened the kiss and with only a little hesitation he started kissing me with the raw desperation of that first kiss. It was what I needed right now. There would be a time for softness and gentle touches later. And it wasn’t as if I couldn’t feel the love he was pouring into it. It was in every flick of his tongue, every touch of his hands, every beat of his pounding heart. My own actions were filled with it too.

In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t it. We still had the fight of our lives ahead of us, one we didn’t even know for sure we could win, and even if we did, everything it took would haunt us forever and we wouldn’t be the same people by the end of it. We already weren’t. But the end of everything wasn’t going anywhere. It could wait for us. The universe owed us that much. And one day, hopefully, it would owe us so much more. It was only fair we had this for now, I thought. And for once the universe seemed to agree.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Aurora Cycle: @aurising

[honekitteh]

Fic: Countdown - Chapter 4

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: M  Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor,  Canon-typical levels of poor decision-making Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Warnings: See Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Crossposted to AO3

I got off the transport at the edge of the Central District of New Adasta and pulled my hood back over my head.  The main metropolis didn’t have the chill that the Outpost had, but it had the cool gusts of wind that was common in most alleys between large buildings.  I let the scarf and goggles I’d had to protect my mouth and eyes from the cold hang down around my neck loosely, ready in case they were needed.

Kira and I moved towards the stairway down into the district and were immediately besieged by the feeling of terror surrounding most of the personnel.  The lack of control some of them had for their own actions as they cut down another that was trying to escape.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Theron spoke over comms, “Saresh has her forces all over New Adasta.  Some of them are possessed now.  Made a real mess.”

Kira gave me a glance.  I shook my head briefly as I kept my eyes clothed.  She sighed a bit and then responded to him, “Are you talking about her now, or you?”

He made an audible sigh which was supplemented by T7’s concerned beeping.  “Let’s keep on target.  Doesn’t matter how bad things get.  We have to put an end to Vitiate’s plan.

“Agreed, but Theron?”

“Go ahead, Kira.”

“Take care of Teeseven.  That’s our emotional support astromech droid.”

There was a small but very exhausted chuckle over the comm in response.  “Of course.”  An audible click as he ended the communication.

“Jy...”

My eyes were closed as I stood over the now dead Imperials.  “Let’s stay focused.”

“But...”

“Please.”  I slowly opened my eyes, taking another deep breath and descended the stairs into the Central District, running my hand along the railing.

I could hear the sigh in response, but I needed to maintain focus.  I’ll sort out, whatever the kriff was going on in my head when I didn’t have to deal with Republic troops who had joined the fray.  Chancellor Saresh hadn’t been kidding when she said the invasion had already begun.  Of course, this was under the guise of a ‘humanitarian rescue mission.’  Unfortunately, instead of what was intended, the combined Republic and Imperial forces, plus the Sixth Line Jedi commandos provided Vitiate with all the possessed marionettes that he could possibly desire to power himself through the murder of others.  Lord Scourge said that was his strategy.  He suggested that this was a ritual already in progress.  That we were too late.

But I refused to give up.

“This is Lana,” I heard across my comm link, “Agent Kovach may have been hurt, probably worse.  I haven’t heard from him, and his tracker’s off.”

I frowned and looked at Kira.  Taking a deep breath, I responded, “Thought you’d like to know—Theron’s alive.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”  She sounded more exasperated than relieved, then again, at that exact moment, I was right there with her.  “The last I heard form Agent Kovach he had a plan involving the city’s electrical grid.  I’ll steer you to where he might have gone.”  I looked down at my wrist communicator to see the coordinates that she had forwarded, and we cut the communication.

“Electrical Substation,” I stated to Kira, “Should be… past a lot of those possessed guys.”

“This’ll be fun.”

“If you’re going to say we should go to war zones more often…”

“No… definitely not this kind.”

“Just clarifying.”  With that last statement, we descended into the cacophony of chaos that was New Adasta’s Central District.

“Easy there tiger,” Kira stated as I felt a slight pull of the Force, preventing me from going straight into a line of electrical current.

We’d just made it to the Electrical Substation that Lana had directed us to.  I was pretty sure it was the right one, because Lana normally doesn’t send us false coordinates.  She might have done some underhanded or shady things in the past, but it was evident that now was really not the time for that kind of thing.  We’d gotten a little sidetracked from making it straight there though.  There were citizens everywhere that weren’t under Vitiate’s direct control that we had to get out of the line of fire.  Pretty sure Lord Scourge would have told us to leave them, but I did make it a personal mission to give him a headache by simply being myself.

I frowned then took a deep breath and looked around the surroundings.  “There some kind of way to turn this off? Or we gonna have to jump over it?”

“There seems to be a generator access here on this console,” Kira responded, moving quickly to console and looking over it.

“Can you slice it?”

Kira scoffed.  “Please.  In my sleep.  Theron Shan is not the only slicer you’ve ever worked with.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Well any time now would be fantastic.”

“Perfection sometimes takes time.”  Kira disabled the generator and the electrical current blocking the route stopped.

“Time, sadly, is a luxury at this point.  Not like I doubted your skills.”

Kira shook her head and we moved past the first obstacle.  “You know… you’re going to have to talk to him again.”

I sighed heavily.  “I know.”

“The situation could have been handled better.”

“It was either snap at him more or just get back to work…” I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stick up as a couple possessed soldiers and reprogrammed droids started shooting at us.  I quickly deflected a blast with one of my shoto.  “Company!”  

“We’re not done!” Kira shouted back at me as she twirled her dualsaber and vanished from view, only to appear two seconds later behind one of the soldiers.

“Seriously?”  I deflected a few more bolts before force leaping to the droids’ location and disabling them with the impact of a Force wave upon my landing.

“You’re going to need to acknowledge what you’re feeling.”

“Is now really the time for this?”

“When else will there be?”

I looked down at the now defeated fallen droids and then back to the bodies of the soldiers.  They really hadn’t given Kira any other option.  I didn’t blame her.  Well not for that.  I furrowed my brow and almost make a short response but decided against it.

“Another console to clear up these loose wires’ open current,” Kira announced as she swiftly moved to it and tapped away at the console.  She sighed a bit.  “Whatever’s there from Yavin, it’s still there.  It’s pretty damn obvious.  Least it is to me.”

I sighed as well, rubbing my temples. “Maybe sometime when a whole world isn’t relying on us to save it from devastation…”

“Fair point.”  With another quick movement over the console and a small kick, Kira had the route cleared again.  “I think I see something up ahead.”

I nodded and continued forward now that the path was safe, trying to take in the rest of the surroundings of the substation.

“Is that Agent Kovach’s voice?” Kira asked quietly as we rounded the last corner.  I nodded in confusion as I halted us both at the edge.  He was on the holo.

With Chancellor Saresh.

“I tried to reach you, to tell you—this won’t end well,” the agent stated to the twilek chancellor.

“The time for hand-wringing ended when you shut down the Orbital Defense Command Center, Agent.  No—before that.  When I planted you with Theron Shan.”

I felt Kira’s hand touch my shoulder lightly before I realized I’d clenched my fist.  I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes, continuing to listen.

“With respect, you haven’t seen what I have on the ground.  The power the Emperor holds—”

“I’m aware, Agent.  Now, if you have a report on Sith Intelligence or the SIS, we can talk.  But you will not tell me how to fight a war.”  The Chancellor shut off the commlink.

Kira gave me a nod and we slowly approached the agent as he muttered under his breath, “Damn.  This is bad.”

“That is one way of putting it...” I stated, crossing my arms.

He startled and looked back at us.  “I take it you heard all that.  Or enough of it.”

“Theron’s relying on you while you’re busy... doing what exactly?”  I raised my eyebrow, letting the rest of what was going on in my head remain unspoken.

“My number one goal right now is to stop Vitiate.  Judge me all you want, but I’d rather it was while we were dealing with him.”  He activated a map and started looking over the Central District of New Adasta, uploading objectives onto a data pad.  “I know I’ve made things worse.  More innocents are dying because of me, and that’s...” he trailed off then took a deep breath, “Please let me help you.”

I pursed my lips, gave him a swift nod, a slight glance to Kira, then turned on my heel and walked away.  I could sense his very audible sigh as I walked away, but at that precise moment, I didn’t care.  More people were going to die not only because he’d given the information to Saresh, but because Saresh herself did not listen to on ground intelligence.  I was not entirely sure which person I was angrier at anymore.

In the end, I had work to do.  Like usual.

“Of course, this has to get more complicated,” Kira muttered as she caught up to me.  She was looking over the data pad that she received from Agent Kovach as we worked our way back towards the entrance the Electrical Substation.

“You’d hate it if we were bored,” I smirked as I found the console that was designated on the instructions.

“You know me.”

I moved my fingers over the console.  Agent Kovach’s instructions were direct: release the electrical system dampener lock so that it could be controlled manually.  “Okay, that should do it,” I said as I hit the release button.

“Let’s keep moving,”

We moved our way out of the substation and Kovach called in via our commlink.  “Okay.  I’ve placed the dampeners on manual.  I’ll be controlling them while you alter the makeup of the grid.  Once it’s all set, we’ll put a shock into every living thing in New Adasta.  Then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

I nodded slowly with a frown and looked at the updated map on my wrist computer.  Each of the locations that I needed to go to and power down were clearly labeled.  They weren’t extremely far apart either.

“Electrocute a whole city?” Kira asked.

“Try to stun them at least, yeah.”

“Why does this feel wrong to me?”

“Better than Vitiate feeding on their deaths?”

“True, but still.”

“Yeah, I’m not a huge fan either, but I can’t think of any other way at this moment.”

She nodded and we pressed forward, conveniently dodging someone trying to ram us with a speeder bike.  I blinked and looked at the now wreckage that had gone up in a plume of fire and smoke.

“Definitely could do with less people trying to kill us,” I muttered as I got to the first power dampener and started powering it down.

“That’s one down.  I’ve got you covered,” Kovach stated over the comm link to confirm its success.

We quickly moved over to the next sort of coordinates.  I saddled myself up to work on the second power dampener as Kira kept an eye out for any potential complications.

“No, the other one.  The other one!” Theron’s voice suddenly came across my comm link.

“Theron?” I asked into the comm, staring at the power dampener I had just disabled.

“Sorry,” he sighed heavily.  I could hear T7 beeping some slightly snarky information at him in the background, too far away to make out the exact specifics.  “Master Surro took down a squad trying to evac slaves.  Then turned on the slaves.”  The exhaustion and exasperation were evident in his voice, and I felt a pounding in my heart as he spoke.  “Running triage on the survivors.  I just wanted to, uh...” He sighed heavily.  “Just—good luck, okay?”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks lightly and sighed. “You too.”  I looked at the dampener and looked back down at the data pad with my next location.  “Oh, and Theron?”

“Yeah?”

“If you need him, Doc’s up on the orbital station.”

“Are you sure he won’t get possessed?”

“You’ve met him, right?”

“Point taken.  Yeah, good call.”

“Stay safe.”  I hesitated but then allowed myself one more statement, “Please.”

There was a slight pause at the other end of the communication, but then Theron simply responded, “I’ll do my best.”

I took a deep breath and moved over towards the next one.  Kira was engaged with a group of Republic Commandos and kept them off me.  I frowned and tilted my head, staring at the console for the last dampener.  Something had seemed wrong, but then I realized I’d been looking at the wrong part of it.  Sighing I disabled it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kovach said, “Any more and it’s the dampeners that will take the brunt of the surge.  All that’s left is to disable the system failsafe.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.  I knew he probably couldn’t see the reaction, but we had work to do.  I didn’t feel the need to speak on it further.  I turned around pulling out my lightsaber only to see that the enemies Kira had been dealing with were unconscious.  I raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“We need the System Failsafe now,” I stated.

“If what I remember of the map is correct, it should be located somewhere inside the Metro Security Center,” Kira said, tilting her head in thought.

“Sounds about right… which is…”

“All the way near where we came into New Adasta.”

I let out a heavy sigh.  “Of course...” then I glanced to what looked like a crashed speeder and went over to it.

“Think it still works?” Kira raised an eyebrow.

“Only one way to find out.”  I fiddled with the settings and the speeder powered up.  We both hopped on and I fiddled more with the handle controls and we raced our way through the Central District towards the coordinates.

“I think this is the right place?” I looked down to verify the coordinates on my wrist computer.  Kira simply nodded as we went to investigate what looked like the Metro Security Center.

A click in my comm link opened and Agent Kovach began to speak, “Maybe you don’t want to hear this.  I have to say it, though.”

I frowned a bit and gave a glance to Kira.

“Theron’s a good man.  It matters that he placed his trust in me.  But I work for the Republic.  That’s the job.  I hope you understand.”

The link clicked off and I pursed my lips.

“Jy?” Kira offered.

I shook my head.  “Let’s deal with this failsafe.”

“We’re going to need to address this eventually.”

“I know.”

Kira frowned but nodded.  We needed to stay on task.  Everything was going upside down crazy and I wasn’t entirely sure what I thought or felt.  But I knew I had a job to do.  I knew I had to do something.

And keeping busy helped me avoid having to think about feelings.

After Kira’s careful slicing of the entrance to the Metro Security Center, I made my way in then halted slightly just inside the entrance.

“The hell?” was Kira’s only response.

“Kira,” I stated plainly, as I stared at the monstrous creature before us, “If we die, you’re fired.”

[caffeinated--writer]

First Day of The Rest of Your Life

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader (Steve x Reader)

Warnings: None

Summary: A newbie at SHIELD your first assignment is to watch a slumbering Steve Rogers. A pain in the ass or a blessing in disguise? Only time will tell.

Note: Posted on my Ao3 account, decided to post it here as well. A multi-chapter fic in which Bucky will come in during the later chapters. Don’t take/steal my work and post it anywhere else!

Chapter 1

“He doesn’t look all that special,” You thought, picking at your nails in boredom. You knew you were in the minority when it came to the excitement around Captain America, not finding him nearly so interesting and just another part of history which would often end up on your test.

 In high school, you often found solace in your mentor, Tony Stark, who was equally (if not more so) disinterested in the Captain and his achievements.

Now -5 years later and a member of the organization SHIELD- you couldn’t help but long for those days. Nobody at work could stop talking about Steve since he had been pulled out of the ice. While you thought it was an amazing feat to come out of something like that alive so many years later, you didn’t think work needed to be all Steve, all the time.

You paced around the room leisurely, the only sounds being the light clicking of your heels and the dull sound of a baseball game coming from the old-timey radio set up in the super soldier’s room, which you had heard six times since your shift had started alone. You were pretty sure you had it memorized.

 You sat down in the wooden chair close to the window with a huff. As you stared at the soldier’s slumbering face, you found yourself, for the hundredth time, wondering why Fury would assign you such a job. You were a newbie after all, and you had imagined someone as high profile as Captain America would get the attention of someone much higher in rank.  And while your ego would love to assume it was because of your superior intellect, if you had to guess it was more likely punishment for speaking out against your superior so openly.

 In your defense, you thought critiques were open! Hell, your superior, Karen, had brought you into the meeting!

 You merely stated that although you agreed with the plan to slowly break the news of the 70-year rest to the super soldier, you didn’t agree with the way they wanted to do so. Clearly, based on the fake old-timey hospital room you were sitting in with a 1940s baseball game playing in the background, no one else had agreed with you. You didn’t think voicing that the radio was a “poor (stupid)” choice to add to the room would be considered overstepping your superior -especially since you hadn’t known the radio had been her idea…

And that…that was how you ended up staring at the handsome sleeping face of Captain America damn near bored out of your mind. You were currently 3 hours into your shift. A small part of you was tempted to trace your hand over his pale cheeks, or lightly brush the blonde hair out of his face. It was clear the boredom was finally getting to you. You were intent on directing your attention elsewhere until something caught your eye.

Standing from your chair you walked toward the slumbering soldier to see if your eyes had been playing tricks on you. When his hand twitched once again you were sure what you had seen hadn’t been a fluke. With baited breath you watched, waiting to see if the movement was a false alarm or preparing for something bigger. As the shuffling continued and the closed eyelids began to flutter, you decided to call it.

Turning away from the super soldier, you lifted your arm to speak into the mic embedded into the cuff of your shirt. “Code Blue…” you whispered, the sound of rustling bed sheets keeping you from repeating the code.

 Standing a bit straighter you turned to face a (now) wide awake Captain America. For a moment he didn’t acknowledge you, too busy taking in his surroundings, but when he did everything stopped.

 It was tense as all either one of you did was stare at one another, blue eyes clashing with (y/e/c). His eyes held some confusion but were strong and could probably intimidate the average person…

Being anything but average you stared back with a subtle but strong gaze of your own.

“Where am I?” Steve questioned, not unkindly. You were stopped from answering the question when the door opened, your superior entering the room. 

“Good Morning” Karen greeted, looking down at her watch “or should I say afternoon.”

Subtly Karen nodded your way. Taking that as the signal to fall back while she took over, you stepped away from Steve. Silently, you walked over to the wall near the door she had entered through, the clicking of your heels highlighting the silence. Crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned back to observe. 

“Where am I?” Steve repeated.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.” Karen sent him a warm smile in an attempt to ease his nerves but from where you were standing it didn’t look like it had the desired effect. Silence again settled in the room as Steve took in his surroundings. 

“Where am I really?” Looking up from the floor, you looked at the super soldier sharply. Something was wrong.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…” Karen replied, smile beginning to fade. With raised eyebrows, you continued to watch the interaction with caution, fully aware of Steve’s shift in attitude but unsure of what caused it in a mere matter of seconds.

“The game…It’s from May 1941. I know because I was there.” He glared, slowly stalking towards you both. “Now I’m going to ask you again…where am I?”

It hadn’t been intentional, it really hadn’t. But what was happening right now was exactly why you had voiced your distaste in the radio which, just as refresher, you had been punished for. Now because your opinion had been ignored, you were currently being backed into a corner by an angry Steve Rogers who looked like he would Hulk out any moment.

 It was truly a laughable moment…and so you did.

“He’s observant.” You chuckled, condescending gaze planted on your superior who was, rightfully, far too terrified of the super soldier standing over her to notice.

 “Who are you!?” Steve demanded. 

It wasn’t long before the room was filled with black ops, far too many if you had to say and by the look of Steve’s body language, he agreed. 

“C…Captain Rogers…”

“Don’t bother.” You cut in; eyes’ purposely ignoring Karen’s annoyed ones. No amount of pleading was going to stop what was about to happen. 

You barely had time to blink before Captain America threw a couple of the agents through the makeshift room. As you watched him jump through his improvised exit and look around the facility in confusion, your heart went out for him a little bit. You couldn’t even imagine how confused –possibly scared- he might be.

“Captain Rogers, wait!” He didn’t even spare Karen a glance. She pulled out her radio to call for a “code 13” while you took in the mess all around you, wondering how shit could have gone sideways so quick. You had spent months watching America’s golden boy without a single incident. It was an assignment you thought would be the most boring of your career and now here you were; staring out of a hole in the wall as grown men moaned and groaned on the ground around you. It seemed the Captain was intent on proving you wrong. 

You turned to Karen, eyes full of judging gleam, “So…great plan, huh?”

You watched the chaos consuming the halls with a raised eyebrow. It was as if ‘stealth’ was no longer apart of these SHIELD agents’ vocabularies. At least it didn’t look like it as they ran like chickens without heads. There was a way to move with quickness without looking like you were which you found helped you maneuver around the chaos easily. Natasha would be proud.

 You had already caught sight of Steve running out of the building and into the streets of New York. Unlike your colleagues, you knew blindly chasing after him would do no good, so here you were in the garage leaning against Fury’s personal car struggling to contain every bit of cockiness that was tempted to surface.

 It didn’t work.

 Almost the second you saw your boss approach a smirk found its way across your face and a sly comment was out before you could stop it. The feeling of being right was euphoric.

“Feel like listening to me now?” 

“Turn right.” You advised, hands clutching the door handle as Fury caused the car to jerk right.

 Agent Hill turned a stern but weary gaze your way.“Are you sure about this?”

“If you’re asking if I, a native born New Yorker, am sure of the directions I’m giving-“ slowly turning in your seat to glance at her “then yes, I am.”

 “But hey, if I’m wrong we can just tack that on to another poor judgment call from you guys.”

You didn’t give them a chance to reprimand you for the comment before barking out another direction for Fury to turn. The van jerked and turned until it finally came to a halt in the middle of Time Square.  And just as you predicted there stood Steve Rogers. 

Afraid to spoke him into running again, you began taking slow steps towards Steve. Luckily, he didn’t seem too focused on you or the chaos going on around him as he was too distracted and confused by the lights of Times Square. 

“At ease soldier!” Fury’s order snapped Steve out of his confusion. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there but…we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?” Steve’s eyes shifted between yours and Fury’s waiting for an answer. 

You took another couple of steps closer until you were shoulder to shoulder with Fury, “Captain Rogers, you’ve been asleep…for almost 70 years.” He stared. 

For a moment he just stared at you as he tried to process what you had told him. You watched confusion swirl through his blue eyes. It was only when realization finally hit did he look away from you to look all the flashing lights and sounds around him and again an uncalled for pang of sympathy went through you as you watched him. 

“You gonna be okay?” Fury asked

“Yeah, I just…I had a date…”

[angel-scythe]

Conniel week Day Two: Clothes Swap (In its Shoes)

I starting to lose my shit and this piece of work is longer than the other so I put the link to my AO3 to read it if you prefer! Over Here <3

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

Sat on the desk, the Captain Fowler was talking to them and Hank was really angry. Of course, he was. You put him with a tin can, you forced him to work with him and even to accept him and now… everything was over?

The Negotiator could understand the man was so angry, arguing to continue to work on this case. Him? No, he was just waiting.

What could he say? To a Captain!

They were on the verge of a Civil War and he even wasn’t sure they could stop it. Markus looked pacific but you never knew.

Hank anger grew again and again.

“Sorry,” Fowler said. “But you go back to homicide and we get rid of the Android.”

The Negotiator looked at him, arms in his back, then to Hank. The man left the room, looking upset or concerned? It was hard to tell when you saw this face.

“Thank you for what you did, Captain,” the Android said.

He bowed his head then left the office too. Coming to Hank’s desk, he took a chair and brought it next to the man and sat down. The face was definitely concerned.

“You’ll give up, Lieutenant?” he asked.

Hank rose up, frowning, to look him. The LED perfectly blue in his temple…

“And you? Aren’t you going to CyberLife?”

The Android adjusted his black tie shimmering with the light. Since four day, Hank was use to see him in his perfect grey suit with that white shirt ending way to easier covered by blood. Blue or red.

Around them, there weren’t much people. Just few androids. Others were on case or in the town. With last Markus’ actions, it was the chaos outside. Everybody was needed.

“I don’t belong to CyberLife, you remember, Lieutenant?” he smiled softly.

Hank remembered, yes. The Android was borrowed from the main DPD, a bit in the North from there. It was Captain Allen himself who brought this Android. His… personal Android. A PL600 trained so much he was able to do what his model and PC200, or PM700, were able to do.

At once.

Well, it wasn’t really useful to be able to catch a criminal while preparing a cake but, yes, he could do it.

“Yeah… And then? What could we do? I have the feeling that… we’re on the wrong side? Maybe these people want just to be free?”

“Lieutenant…”

Daniel approached his chair a bit.

“You must know that… I’m a Deviant.”

Hank frowned but… in the end, he wasn’t so surprise. The Android did his best to achieve the mission but he also preferred to protect other. He thought, first, it was maybe because he was a PL600 but there was something in him. His way to smile, to act, to care…

Of course he was.

“Since when?”

“Longtime.” Daniel closed his eyes. “Very longtime. I was already a Deviant when I cared for my family. That because I was already one I…” He shook his head slightly. “I did something I shouldn’t. I wanted to protect Emma and everything slips out of my hands at the exact moment the police came. I killed someone… Two people.” He opened his eyes.

Well, three if you count John Philips but the man was an asshole, a monster. He used to beat his wife. And that day, he started to hit Emma. Caroline always said she was able to deal with her husband and he was forced to let that happens, however, he’ll always comfort her after that. But Emma? He didn’t want her to live that. When she received the first hit, he became mad, he let the meal burn in the oven and went to care for her, being hit at his turn. Then, when she was comforted, in her room, he went to the gun. To end this asshole live.

Yeah, the man was ordering a new Android, to replace the “defective” model but Daniel didn’t care. It wasn’t meant to be.

And… it seemed Caroline could bear it when her husband hit her again and again. But when he killed him to protect his family…

Anyway, he wanted to escape with Emma, protect her…

He failed.

“Shit…”

Daniel closed his eyes. He was afraid the man won’t tolerate those deaths. But Hank was looking over his shoulder. So, the blond turned his head and saw that FBI Agents… Perkins.

“Fuck… Lieutenant, if you help me, I can maybe do something. I can warn them at Jericho. If I can locate it, we’ll be in the right side. I have no pleasure to hunt Deviants. But help them?”

“Help you?”

“I can find something in the evidence we collected, I’m sure of that. The solution in obviously there. Where else?”

Hank wasn’t sure but there was so much expression in his face. It was sure that boy was a Deviant.

“Key to the basement is on my desk…” he said, getting up. “I won’t distract them long. Be ready.”

Daniel nodded and jumped on his feet. He caught the key and looked the man coming to Perkins. He couldn’t hide a smile when the Lieutenant threw his punch in that ugly nose. That should be satisfying. He wanted to do the same but… there wasn’t time for that!

The PL600 went to the evidence room, checking that nobody will come to stop him. He went to the archive room and took the stairs in the hurry, let the door opened in front of him and walked to the strange huge computer screen. Then, he pressed few keys to open a special session. A Captain’s session that could work in every other session. And he knew this password.

Then, the evidence selected appeared in front of him, the big white shining boxes appearing in front of him. And… a body. A destroy naked body with no legs left, one arms and bullet impact everywhere in the face. He had lost on ear, had the cheek shattered.

But he remembered him… so well…

 Emma was shouting, yelling because she was so afraid and him, Daniel, had a body over him. Connor’s body. The RK800 had jumped in front of the bullets to catch them. With its own body. With its live.

He couldn’t believe it.

He wanted to push the Android to go to Emma but a man went to her. He put his strong arms around her and caressed her hair softly. A huge man, with a powerful aura that could show so much kindness?

“Everything is over,” he muttered softly. “The Android won’t hurt you anymore.”

Daniel felt something. Heard the sound of the gun prepared to shoot. It will be over… in the end. Why this Android had killed itself for nothing?

“No… It wasn’t him. Please. He wanted to protect me. Please…”

“Wait!” the man shouted. “Don’t shoot the Android.” He looked the little girl. “What are you saying?”

She was crying against him.

“Please. He’s my best friends. Don’t hurt him. He wanted to protect me. He wanted to bring me somewhere we’ll be save. He wanted…” She cried more and moved her head.

Her cheek started to be bluish.

“I needed to go with her,” Daniel said to the Captain. “I just wanted her to be free.”

“When the man arrived, he shot Daniel. Daniel was afraid. He wanted to protect me…” She shivered in his arms.

The Captain looked her, then the blonde Android. He wasn’t acting dangerously. He was just there, waiting for his destiny. With that robot losing blood on him.

 Connor…

He could remember how Captain Allen had asked for keep him under his wing. In protection, check if he won’t be dangerous again. And then… he started to tutor him. He learned to him how to fight, to use correctly a weapon, to protect the innocent and he became this Detective. The Detective that couldn’t live because of him. Because, now, he it was dead. But maybe…

He went to that Android from the Stratford tower and took a piece from it to join that Connor and put it on place in the model. He couldn’t help but smiled when he saw Connor open the eyes. And the Android smiled too. Even if it looked painful.

“You’re alive…”

I still thank Quantic Dream for the awesome game and the awesome characters. I love to play with them.

Thanks again to @the-immortal-chair for this fun challenge <3

[letdecemberburninflames]

Bucky Barnes x Reader | Part 3

Summary: You and your best friend have been property of Hydra since you were children. You disappeared during WWII and were never seen again.

James Buchanan Barnes is struggling. He can’t tell the difference between memory and dreams. The counselor tells him you aren’t real. He’d do anything to prove her wrong.

Parts: Introduction  Part 1  Part 2  Part 4

Fic Type: Bucky Barnes x Reader Series

Warnings: sensual stuff, angst

Author’s Note: Alternative Title to this part: Winter Soldier: Therapy Sessions.

***March, 1968*** **Post WWII**

Someone kicks her in the ribs. “Get up,” a voice hisses. “Now. Get up!”

Slowly, she rises from the floor, meeting the hard eyes of a guard. He holds a gun at his side, pointed right into her belly. She’s confused and glances around the cell. She doesn’t really remember them bringing her back from the operating room. Thoughts scramble around her head as she tries to remember waking up but she doesn’t.

Across the room, her friend is already awake, gaze blank as she watches the exchange between them. Once, long ago, she would have attacked the guard who dared to lay a finger on her. He would have been turned to an ice cube faster than you could say sputnik. But now… The F/H/C haired girl sits with docility, not moving nor speaking.

“Мы разбудили солдата.” We’ve woken the Soldier. The harsh Russian syllables grate against her ears. She winces as he continues. “И он в ярости. Мы думаем, это потому, что вам не хватает.” And he’s in a rage. We think it’s because you’re missing. It would be the first time they hadn’t called on her to help wake him up. “Я действительно не трахаюсь, если он разорвет тебя на клочки, пока он успокаивается.” And I don’t really give a fuck if he rips you to shreds as long as he calms down.

She swallows hard, pushing brown locks from back from her line of vision. Until they had stolen his memory completely, he had done everything he could to remember. To remember and protect her and her friend.

A hand wraps around her upper arm and she’s forced out the cell door and down a corridor. She blinks hard against the light. He won’t remember her again. Or he would technically, but not in the traditional sense. A sick lick of jealousy lashes against her heart. He got to forget everything while they forced her to remember only the things they wanted her to. But then she hears him screaming in her mind, and thinks about the torture that’s been inflicted on both of them, and that he’s practically lost all sense of self, and she feels guilty. He remembers; flinches at touch, recoils at the sound of his own name, but he knows her somehow.

Perhaps they let him remember her. They would use her to control him. His protective nature towards her in particular had no doubt not gone unnoticed. Hydra would use anything they could to their advantage, and this was no exception.

She’s forced through another door after a few minutes of walking down derelict corridors and faced with chaos.

His dark hair is longer than she remembered. His shirt is missing, and raised red lashes score his back. The metal arms whirs and clenches, mirroring the muscle of the flesh one. The room is in disarray, tables and machinery overturned, something spilt across the floor, trays of instruments scattered. Worst of all is the blood, and of that there is an abundance.

A man steps up to her, presses his mouth to her ear as he whispers instructions to her, instructions she can’t disobey. She was to do anything necessary to make him compliant for them. The few scientists and guards and agents start to leave the room causing the Soldier to turn towards her.

He’s on her immediately, body protectively in front of hers as everyone files out of the room. When they’re gone he relaxes a little but not by much, murmuring into her hair so lowly she can’t make out what he’s saying.

Stepping away from him, she gives him an order to sit down, which he does immediately. She steps behind where he sits on a hard chair and assess the damage done to his back. “Почему?” Why? She asks, choosing Russian for the moment.

“Я тебя не видел,” I didn’t see you, he says, voice just as hard. "Они пообещали, что если я выполню свою миссию, вы и 003 будете в безопасности." They promised that if I accomplished my mission, when I woke up, you and 003 would be safe. The Soldier's voice is possessive and angry.

She shakes her head, sure her eyes were glassy with tears. Her assumptions were correct. Hydra was using her to keep the Winter Soldier in line.

The Soldier cupped her cheek, eyes sweeping over her. “Вы выросли.” You’ve grown.

“Mm.” She nods. He had most likely been in cryosleep for the duration of time since she had last seen him. Time has passed, and she is older now. They are nearly the same age. She is stronger now, but she doesn’t feel like she is. She still feels like the child stolen away with empty promises.

Instead of answering him she begins searching through the disarray for a medical kit, righting one of the fallen tables with little effort. “1968.” She whispers the year on the medical kit, bracing herself for his undoubtedly aggressive reaction.

His hand reaches back to circle her wrist. “Не делай этого. Не сейчас.” Don’t do this. Not now. Instead of angry, now he sounds worried, desperate. He doesn’t want to know. Their training prohibits any knowledge of the outside world other than what they tell him.

She takes a breath, something tugging at the back of her altered mind. “Bucky.” She breathes, her accent switching from Russian to American English.

The Winter Soldier replies in English. “Stop.”

“James Barnes.”

“Stop it.”

“James-”

He slams her against the wall. “Shut up.”

She hadn't even known he had moved, fingers clenching around her throat as he pins her against the concrete wall. As the years had gone on Bucky had gotten more and more irritable and violent when presented with his identity. It seemed to cause almost physical pain.

Metal fingers further tighten around her throat. “Do not speak.”

She's not afraid and certainly not deterred. “Let me go.” Her voice scrapes in her throat before he releases her.

For a moment they stare at each other before he grabs her shoulders and smashes his lips to hers, the kiss is unforgiving and hard. It's a thing of confusion and misplaced emotion. But that's what she's there for. The Soldier’s teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, drawing blood, as her hands go to his biceps, trying to calm him. Gently, her thumbs smooth circles there and he calms slightly.

He grips her chin in his hand until she bruises before shoving her away. “Help me.” Desperation has returned to his tone. "Please."

“Sit down.” She replies, her voice rough.

He sits on the table that she had righted earlier before she goes about cleaning the violent stripes on his back. They’d heal soon enough but she still wraps them, and tends to his other injuries, both self-inflicted and gifted to him when Hydra tried to contain the Soldier’s rage.

Because the programming, if his emotions were strong enough, a memory powerful enough, could be overridden. And clearly coming out of the cold, out of cryo, with her missing had had enough of an emotional affect that it triggered a response.

“The other girl, your friend. The one with ice in her eyes. She is safe?” He growls again, needing it to be true. “Is she alive?”

“Yes, she is alive. Not well, but alive.” 002 replies, remembering the blank stare and lack of emotion on her friend’s face. She hadn’t spoken in weeks.

He’s silent for a while, letting her work over him. Every so often she whispers his name, with little to no reaction from him. It hurts her to think he might have lost himself completely. His once kind blue eyes are distant, his soul fortified behind his pale irises, much like 003’s.

“Kiss me again.” He says.

She shakes her head, slipping back into her natural dialect. “Nein.” No. The woman steps back from him and pouts her bottom lip for him to see her bloody bitten lip, before craning her neck to show the bruise forming there. “Du tust mir weh.” You hurt me.

He replies in English. “I know you.” A grave tinge enters his voice. “Please.”

“No.”

He doesn’t give her a choice as he stands and backs her into a corner. When she stumbles he stops. “I won’t hurt you. Protect, remember?”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes.” The Soldier thinks he should protect her, that much he remembers. He remembers for a moment, holding her hands in his and whispering, “I promise.”

His hands cup her neck gently as he presses a surprisingly soft kiss to her lips. She buries her face against his neck. She knows they'll be watching them and feels a twitch of shame.

“Do you know my name?” She asks quietly, lips pressing against his neck, as he hooks his hands around her thighs.

“No.” He pauses. “But I know you. I know you.”

She drops her head in disappointment. She didn’t know it either. She was nothing but a number. “You’ll do well on the mission won’t you?” She asks of him, because it's her job. “You will comply?”

“Yes,” he whispers, connecting his mouth to hers. “I will. I don’t want them to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” She breathes a sigh of relief. If he ever fails a mission, which is hardly ever, she’s punished most severely for it.

Their lips connect again, and she knows that the Soldier will be compliant once more. Neither of them make noise, but her cheeks heat in embarrassment. Someone is watching, evaluating, and this will come up. She'll likely be punished even though it effectively calmed the beast.

But she wants it and the Soldier wants it and they both crave the closeness of it and the bond it creates between them. And that will be the problem. They aren't supposed to feel and yet...

His pace slows slightly as he removes his hands from her hips to pull her up. Carefully, he cradles her back with large hands, pressing her chest to his, keeping them connect for a moment longer. “I’ll do well. They won’t hurt you.”

It’s exactly what she hears every time they beat her. The Soldier promised and they still hurt her because they could. After the mission of course, she’s reprimanded with corporal punishment, because the Soldier is showing signs of emotion again. He’s supposed to be emotionless and although she can’t help the bond they have, in fact one fostered between them by the agents, they still blame her. Every. Single. Time.

They put the Soldier away, letting him witness the abuse beforehand. They let him scream and rail against them, watch Bucky Barnes flicker to life in his eyes, with remorseless mirth in theirs. And then the wipe him away again, silence his soul once more.

And then they put her away too.

And they do it all again the next time.

Tag List: @mismatch-the-socks  @mutineeradept  @prxttybirdz