#also it's got to be real stuffy inside those bandages

[lea-panthera]

Cat Noir wasn't the only one with attitude in this scene

[myimaginesandrp]

Hey so can you please please please continue the force sensitive! reader x Kyle ren fic it’s amazing and I read al of it and now I need more. Also can you put me on the tag list for it please 😁

Force Sensitive! Reader Part 5 

Part one: While Kylo is interrogating you (a resistance member) he discovers you’re force sensitive

Summary: You've Made your way back to the resistance, but it feels nothing like home.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, signs of  Ptsd 

A/N: Thanks for reading this!  I didn’t think we’d be here, but what can I say? I was inspired. I’m planning on making one more part for this. Sorry there’s only mentions of Kylo, this chapter was super important for what’s to happen next. I promise he’ll be back next chapter… and things are gonna get spicy. 

As always, thanks to anyone who takes the time to read my garbage ^.^

——

The steady sound of heavy rain droplets pounded against your window as you tossed around on your new mattress. It was so strange to be back in your resistance camp quarters. The room was too big and stuffy when you were here by yourself. The darkness was the only other thing filling it up, the only thing keeping you company aside from the nightmares that kept you awake every night. In fact that’s the reason you were lying awake now, looking up at your ceiling and the remaining glow in the dark stickers you kept up there. 

You could still hear it. The loud hum of his saber, hot and deadly and so close to you. The blinding red illuminating his gloved hand as he reached out to you. You thought they were just dreams at first, but after a while you started to hear those voices. They wouldn’t leave you alone either and it was beginning to drive you insane. Your hands clutched at your ears begging them to leave you alone when a knock at the door seemed to pull you from your delusions. Hesitantly you managed to convince your body to move. Your footsteps were muffled by the rain as you made your way through the small ship, bumping slightly into things you forgot were there. Your knuckles were white from the force you pressed onto your other hand, hoping that if you squeezed hard enough they would stop shaking.

 It didn’t work.

It took you a moment  but somehow you managed to press down on the control panel enough to get the door to open and found the General standing in front of you. She offered you a smile as you took her in. She was so small and bone dry in spite of the rain outside. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked in a kind quiet voice. You nodded for her to enter and watched her as the door hissed closed behind you both. You sat down on one of the chairs across from the couch she found. A deep sigh escaped her and you followed her gaze to your shaking hands. It was too late to hide them, but still you plastered them under your thighs, the bandages on your wrists pressing against you uncomfortably. You’d been too stubborn to go see the medical droids again. She studied you for a moment and a wave of heat flashed over your cheeks. Suddenly you had the urge to run far far away from this place. 

“Y/N” she repeated. You assumed by the look on her face she’d spoken and you didn’t catch it. 

“General” you whispered. “ I- I’ve already told you everything I know about The First Order” 

“Yes, but that’s not why I am here” Her voice was so calm and soothing, so different from her son. The one she abandoned. You shook the thought away from you, lately those kinds of things were all you thought about and it seemed to cloud your senses.

How strange the world seemed ever since you were back; nothing seemed to fit the way it used to. You were back from the dead and  you swore people would’ve prefered it to be that way. It wasn’t like that at first, everyone was welcoming and kind and you felt like you were finally home, but everything changed when the news of your time on the finalizer broke out. The people were different, so you didn’t bother to talk to any of them now, that only resulted in cold or worrisome glances. You couldn't deny that it stung to be isolated this way but still, you couldn't blame them. You weren’t the same person anymore, you weren’t a traitor, but nothing would be the same and you knew it. This guy had done real work on you and you were just emotionally drained.  Of course the general could sense it, you knew that’s why she was here. 

“I saw inside his mind you know?” you took a deep breath “He let me”. Her eyebrows shot up. Clearly this wasn’t the way she was expecting the conversation to go, but she had to know. She had to, because you hadn’t been entirely honest with her and you weren’t planning to, but something in the way she was looking at you now made you want to pour out all your fear in front of her. 

“I know he’s your son. You and Han” you whispered.

“Yes he’s my son, but things are a little more complicated than they seem” she sighed. “There’s still good in him.” You breathed out a laugh not really sure if it was in disagreement. She knew, of course she knew, about all the horrible things that he was doing across the galaxy. 

“I see him when I close my eyes, I feel what he felt. How alone he is” Your voice shifted without you realizing it. Before you knew you were looking at her as if the whole thing was her fault. Maybe it was. 

You thought by now things would have been different, that by now the war would be almost over. The scavenger went out to find Luke, another dead end. All the suffering you went through for that fragment, all the people lost. Not just on your side. All the innocent people caught in the crossfire. And it was all for nothing. 

Maybe Ren was right. It was driving you insane the more you thought about it. Without you meaning to, honest.  It just didn’t make sense for all that to happen. If only you were stronger. 

The thoughts ran through your head so quickly, you didn’t notice she’d placed a hand on your knee. Your lip twitched at the touch.

“Be careful Y/N anger is a straight path to the dark side.” 

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” you shot back a bit more bitterly than you intended, but you couldn't stop yourself. “I’m just here waddling through a swamp blindfolded. You didn’t tell me.” You stood up then unsure of what to do with yourself anymore, your lip was quivering and you bit it down as tears pooled in your eyes,

“You knew about me, you knew what I can do, what I am capable of. And you just sidelined me” you hands reached up and tangled in your hair as a steady stream of warm tears finally made their way down the sides of your cheeks. The general was so calm, like she’d seen this a million times.

“I could’ve saved so many people, the war could be so much different..” You trailed off and she took that opportunity to speak.

“Y/N” she said calmly “you weren’t ready to learn about the force”

You scoffed. 

“You must understand. It’s what’s best for everyone counting on us.” She looked at you dead in the eye and you didn’t know whether to run and hug her or cower away. 

“Don’t let the bad guys take over you.”

“The bad guys?” you breathed out a laugh “From where I’m standing we’re just as messed up as those guys eh. Do you have any idea how many people live in those ships we’re told to take down? And we just blow them out of space for what? The good of the galaxy?” You shook your head not wanting to hear any more. She sighed and stood from her seat. 

“What good are we doing exactly?” you said crossing your arms as she made her way towards the door. 

“More than you imagine” she said stepping out into the rain. “You have a gift Y/N. I don’t know why the force chose you, but I know you will make the right choice” 

The night passed by without you noticing, the rain making it impossible to to tell what time it was. The voices seemed to stop once General Organa stopped by and you couldn't be more relieved. Still, even when the scavenger returned with Han and a new map to Luke, the feeling of dread couldn’t leave your side. 

---

You didn’t know how long it had been since you stepped out into the sun, but one day you decided you couldn't stay trapped inside anymore. You’d done nothing wrong after all. You were on your way to see your old ship when you heard a familiar voice call behind you. 

“Hey scraps”  

For the first time in a long long time your face broke into a smile. Poe. He’d been off world on a mission once you got back and wow was it good to see him. He was making his way out of an X wing with his droid trailing behind him. 

“Hey” you said with a smile when he finally reached you and wrapped his arms around you. 

His heart sank  once he pulled away and got a good look at you. It didn’t take a genius to see how different you were. Dark circles adorned your eyes, your skin was transparent, and even the way your clothes hung down from your shoulders had him worried. You could see it in his eyes, how you could possibly be worse than when he found you?

“How are you?” his voice was so warm and soothing you almost lost it. You shifted your eyes to the droid, unable to meet his gaze.

“Me? Oh you know, same ole, same ole...” There was something in his voice... something was off “ Why, have you heard anything else?” you looked up to see him shift to his other side uncomfortably.  “Tell me Poe”

“People are starting to talk”

“Oh” you said arching your brow

“They say Ren brainwashed you, that you’re loyal to the order now” You liked that he always got to the point right way, one of the many things you like about him.

“That’s a new one” you scoffed 

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed until they followed your  gaze to the ships behind you. You didn’t plan to leave, but thinking about it now, maybe you could go for a round.

“Scraps..If you leave they’ll think it’s true.You’ll be considered a traitor” he said before dismissing the droid.  Your breath hitched in your throat. This is what he was fearing? Could he honestly think you would just abandon everything like that? What was worse, it was like reputation was the only thing that mattered to him. 

“I don’t care what side people think I’m on” 

“Y/N come on, you’re on the good side”

“I am” you give him a pointed look “I just don’t think the resistance is the good side anymore.” He stared at you dumbfounded, “You know, they believe they’re 100% justified too”

“You can’t be serious? Scraps..?” he shook his head, pacing back and forth unsure of what to say. You looked over at the ships, one of them waiting for you.

“Please don’t go…” his eyes were begging “I just got you back” His eyes were soft and pleading. You weren’t gonna leave him, how could  he even think that? You were just about to tell him when he spoke again, beating you to it. 

“Y/N” His hand lifted your chin to meet him “What did he do to you?” 

You yanked your head away from him. He’d already made up his mind then? You could handle pity from anyone else, but not him, he was your best friend he was…  

Anger began pooling inside you, of all people he should be the first one to take your side. 

“He showed me what the general already knew” you looked up to him then, scanning his eyes when you sensed his guilt. “Did you know?” His silence rang volumes inside you. “Poe did you know?!” 

His eyes looked down at the ground and for the first time in years you felt absolute betrayal.

“You knew” your voice broke at the last word, unable to contain your shock. He looked up at you then, his eyes pleading. 

“Leia told me you were…”

 “Forget it Dameron” you spat before turning on your heels. You couldn’t bear to hear him, your heart couldn’t take it.

That was it, you couldn't trust anyone anymore. Your whole time here had been a lie, and now the person you trusted the most had lied to you. Nothing made sense anymore.

 The world spun as you made your way through the ships, looking for your own. There was a muffled sound of a voice somewhere behind you but you couldn’t listen. Once after another the dreaded voices seemed to return to you. You looked around, bumping into things and tripping over others while you yanked yourself away from the hand that kept reaching for you. You didn’t know how long it took, but you somehow found your ship. 

The small purple X wing stood there with a grey dusty sheet covering half of it. You were running towards it while your mind played cursed images of the times you spent on it. You had to stop it, you had to before you saw Poe, all the times you shared together in that X wing. Tears streamed down your cheeks again, you didn’t even know when you’d started crying. Your whole body was on fire. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You could run away, start a nice little life away from it all. You’d find Skywalker or maybe not and then just stay there maybe if you were far enough away, you’d stop hearing the voices in your head.

You slid to stop but ended up crashing into him when he threw his body between you and the ship. His arms pinned you down underneath him as his hot breaths hit your neck. 

“Let me go!” You were panting, pulling you away from his, but his strong grip kept you in place. 

“Where are you going?” he managed once he caught his breath. 

“I'm getting Far far away from this mess” you growled 

“You can’t leave. This is exactly what he wants scraps” 

“How do you know that Poe? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’ve been lying to me for years?!” You were fuming. 

“Y/N please listen” his grip loosened on you just a bit and you managed to yank him away from you using the force. “I didn’t know”

“Liar!” You shot back and pushed him farther away from you 

“Scraps, please…”

“Did you ever even love me?” You interrupted him, choking back tears. He stared at you in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak but you weren’t about to listen to him lie to you again. 

You climbed up into the ship and it roared into life. You felt it then, his pain was almost blinding, it almost matched your own. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the general running towards you but it was too late. You pulled out of the dreaded planet watching everything you held near and dear to your heart disappear behind you. 

For once the ship listened to you, and it spun into space soaring past the familiar X wing that trailed behind yours. He was getting closer, so close you were nealy side by side just as you were about to make your jump into lightspeed.  For a brief moment you met his eyes, they were as red as yours and a shinny trail of tears was shimmering down his cheeks. 

That’s the last time you saw him before disappearing into space. 

-Tags:

@nicci442 @country-cowgirl-101 @commondazy @acehyacinth

Part 6

——

Thanks for reading! :) Requests are always open

[gemstoneconstellations]

Kittens and Bottles

Summary: Your happy life with your favorite cat and favorite hero. This is a small continuation of here.

Wordcount:2644

  You have the best cat in the entire world. Here are the reasons why.

She’s adorable; the cutest fur baby. She’s fluffy, sleek, and mews in the most adorable way.

She is cuddly. Not many cats let you rub your face into their bellies as much as you want. But she does; in fact, she will make you cuddle her belly. If you aren’t careful, you could die in your sleep from her smothering you. It would be a happy death.

She found you a boyfriend. A hot, sassy, sexy, funny, pro-hero boyfriend.

It’s been nearly a year since Kuiper’s escape tactics had been discovered and now you were  happily co-parenting her with Hitoshi. It was pure bliss. Everything has been going so nicely. Hitoshi pretty much lived with you at this point; he really only used his apartment used to store his things and some of his clothes. Coming home to his sleepy, handsome face has been really nice.

His job as a pro-hero does put a damper on things sometimes. He is often changing his bandages in your living room and sometimes had to leave abruptly for emergencies. But he always makes sure that the two of you can spend some proper time together. You get to cuddle him when you go to bed, before he leaves for work; he would wait for you to fall asleep in his arms before leaving. But the best part is when he comes back.

That night, you woke up to a hand massaging your hip, a familiar chest pressed to your back and lips on your neck. He gently sucked on your skin, making you giggle. “Hmm, Hitoshi, that tickles.” Hitoshi hummed into your shoulder, continuing to kiss you, his thumb pressing into your lower back. You opened your eyes to see the clock showing that it was early in the morning. “Did you just get back?”

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his as he nuzzled your hair. “Yeah… I think you should always wear my shirts. Nothing else…” You bit your lower lip as his hands wandered into said shirt. Teeth dragged across your neck, causing your toes to curl.

You gasped and opened your eyes to look for the special, small foil package in the nightstand. Only to see your Kuiper sitting in the middle of the room, watching the two of you. “Hitoshi.” Your boyfriend hummed but didn’t stop, his fingers venturing lower. “She’s watching us…”

“___.”

“Yes-” A haze took over you as Hitoshi used his quirk.

“Now, hold still for Daddy while I put our nosy fur baby to bed.” He rose from the bed and picked up Kuiper. She mewed at him, unhappy about being picked up and pushed out of the room. You almost felt kind of guilty as you listened to her voice her displeasure behind the closed door.

The bed dipped and you felt your body being moved, your ankles placed on Hitoshi’s shoulders and your clothing being pulled away. “Now, it’s time for Daddy to play~”

~

You sighed with relief, your stiff and sore muscles now relaxed  after a nice hot shower. A soft towel wrapped around you, you hit the switch to turn on the fan to get rid of the humidity but nothing happened. You tried flipping the switch on and off, but still nothing happened. Great, you’ll have to call the landlord later, but for now, you just opened the small window to let in fresh air.

Wiping away the fog on the mirror, you were about to dry your hair when something caught your eye. “Hitoshi!”

“I didn’t do it!” Your boyfriend shouted, most likely from the bedroom.

You run your fingers down your poor, abused neck. “Then why do I have a bunch of hickies on my neck?”

Hitoshi appeared, shirtless, beside you in the mirror and leaned down to kiss one of the offending marks on the base of your neck. “I may have done that.” He continued to kiss you, pulling you closer to him.

You almost melted into him, till you felt tugging at your towel. You jokingly shoved Hitoshi away from you. “No way mister, I have work and you need to go to bed.” He stepped back into your space, despite your rejection.

“Nah,” Hitoshi’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own and were wondering your body again, squeezing your butt under the towel. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I think we should both go to bed.” 

You shake your head at him and turn him around, realizing then that he wasn’t just shirtless. “Hitoshi, at least put some boxers on. We have young kitty eyes watching us.”

“Oh, I see who your favorite is. She can walk around naked but I can’t.” The two of you kept bantering back and forth. You were nearly late to work but you couldn’t help the smile that seemed to permanently pull on your face.

The open window in the bathroom long forgotten.

~

“I’m telling you, you don’t need to give her a treat every time she meows at you. She just got her weight down.” You were laying on Hitoshi’s side; the two of you were just lounging on your couch together today. Kuiper was stretched out over both of your laps, her slightly round belly exposed. Hitoshi opened his mouth and you could see the stupid word forming. “Say it, I dare you.”

He just laughed, leaning his head back on the couch with his eyes shut. “I can’t help but spoil her. She’s too cute.”

“Uh huh. At least you’ve stopped dressing her up in ugly bows.” You pinched his side as he laughed more. Kuiper seemed to have enough of the two of you moving so much and left your laps.

Now free from kitty petting obligations, Hitoshi pulled you closer into his lap and whispered in your ear. “I’m more into undressing you now.” He starts to shower your face and neck with kisses till he thought it would be a great idea to blow a raspberry on the junction of your neck. You snort and try to push his face away. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, thank you. The cold has been going around in the office lately.” You’d woken up this morning with a stuffy nose, nausea, and a heavy body. Hitoshi had to convince you to stay home by bribing you with snuggles and being waited on hand and foot. The two of you had sat together wrapped in warm blankets, watching movies and petting your spoiled kitty all day.

“I’ll buy some weight control food for her on my way home today.” Hitoshi ran his fingers through your hair as you tried to sleep. You groan when he tried to pull away, not ready for him to leave yet. Hitoshi chuckled, holding you closer to him. “Now who is acting spoiled. Five more minutes and then I have to go.” You hummed in agreement but that didn’t stop you from clinging onto him later.

~

“Okay, I know you are tired, but I can’t find my capture weapon.” You groaned, exhausted from the long week you’d had. You were so fatigued; that cold had really kicked your ass and your body was still recovering. You’d spent all day trying not to fall asleep, to finally come home to your comfy bed only to find Hitoshi frantically looking around the room and asking for help. 

You pulled the blankets more tightly around you. “Noooooo.” 

Hitoshi chuckled, getting down on his knees beside the bed and petting your head. “Okay kitten, but have you seen my capture weapon? I swear, I put it on the nightstand this morning.” 

Thinking about it now, you might have seen it in the living room with Kuiper. “Find the real kitty, I think the fur baby was playing with it again.” Hitoshi hummed, his hot fingers massaging the back of your neck. Your eyes closed again. It was so nice to have someone else take care of you when you’re down. You feel a press of lips on your forehead as you drifted off to sleep.

As you suggested, Hitoshi went to look for the now slightly round black kitty. He swears that he isn’t giving her more treats… at least he doesn’t think he is. He looked in the living room, calling the kitty’s name till he heard her meow form the kitty climbing tree. Inside the small cubby at the base, Hitoshi found his scarf. Kuiper was lying in the middle of what looked like a nest. “What you doing, pretty girl? You can’t have that.”

He pulled Kuiper out of the nest and she purred in his arm as he grabbed his capture weapon. There was more than just his scarf though; socks, two shirts, and a random pair of boxers also resided in the cubby. So that’s where those had gone. “What you doing with all this stuff, princess?” He asked the cat, who just purred against him.

~

“Hmmm…” You groan, looking down at the pants that just wouldn’t button. “Have I been gaining weight?” Turning to the side with your shirt up to expose your stomach, you frowned at the full length mirror. You pinch at your skin and sigh. 

Kuiper sat on your bed, watching you with her tail twitching. “Looks like both of us need to go on a diet. Maybe I’ll even get you a kitty leash and we can go for walks.” Even though you’d switched her food to a less fattening kind, she still seemed to be growing. You’d gotten rid of all the treats and Hitoshi swears that he isn’t giving her any more. Plus, she has been more demanding of attention, even at night.

Giving up on those pants, you dug through your closet, looking for some spandex pants instead. You’d finally found them when you heard the telltale sign of gagging. “Oh no, oh no. Hold it in Kuiper!” You rush over to pick up your cat and run her to the bathroom. Thankfully, you got her to the sink just in time for her to throw up, but you seemed to be a vomit sympathizer and could feel yourself getting nauseous as well. You were going to the kitchen for water when the front door opened.

“Hmm, now this is a greeting.” You jump as hands gripped at your butt; you were still only in a shirt and underwear. “I could get used to this.” 

You giggle as you pulled Hitoshi’s offending hands closer to make him hug you instead. “I see you’re back later than usual. Everything okay?”

Hitoshi yawned before laying his head on your shoulder. You smiled at how cute and cuddly Hitoshi gets when he’s sleepy. He won’t move from his spot if you don’t, so you start walking with him on you to put the sleepy boy to bed. “Yeah, there was just a raid that turned out larger than expected but it’s okay now. How was your morning?”

You pushed your boyfriend onto the bed; he gave you a dopey smile. “Kuiper seems to be sick, she’s puked twice today already. She puked yesterday too. I’m gonna take her to the vet.” 

Another yawn as he tiredly rolled over. “Poor baby, let me know how she is.”

“I will.” You found the spandex pants from before but paused before putting them on. “Hey, Toshi? Do you think I gained some weight?” There was no answer; you looked over to see him taking shallow breaths and letting out small snores. Dressed, you kissed him goodbye before taking Kuiper to see her vet. 

~

“I’m sorry… could you repeat that?” 

The vet handed over the test results while his other hand scratched Kuiper behind the ear. The kitty was purring so loudly, it was the only thing grounding you right now. “She’s not fat. She’s pregnant. I’d say about three weeks, entering her fourth.”

“But she hasn’t even had her first heat!” You’d wanted her to have kittens one day but had just been hoping that it would be when she was a little older. Is this what parents feel like when their teenage child tells them they are having a baby? You start to think that you’re going to throw up again. 

You fell back into your seat as the vet placed Kuiper back inside her carrier. “She is old enough to have had it. Is there a way she could have gotten out?”

“No, there’s…” Last month, when your fan had stopped working, suddenly came to mind. Your landlord didn’t come to fix it for two weeks so you would leave the window open. It was so high up that you didn’t think she would be able to… but then again, she had gone through the air vents to get to Hitoshi’s apartment. You sigh and smack your own forehead. You should have known. “Fuck.”

“Well, I’m surprised you didn’t notice this sooner, especially if she’s been nesting. Gaining weight, puking, and being moody are all signs of pregnancy. She’ll be taking a lot more naps; it’s a lot of work making new life.” 

With Kuiper now in your arms again and some nausea medication for your apparently pregnant kitty, you leave the vet’s feeling a bit unsure. You sigh as you stop by a store to get some baby blankets for Kuiper; she can’t keep stealing shirts and Hitoshi’s scarf to have her kittens on. There’s a lot you needed to prepare for with so little time. “Right, should mark down her expected due date.” You looked at your phone calendar to enter it in when you noticed something; you’d forgotten to mark your own period this month. Wait…when was it?

~ 

Hitoshi entered the kitchen yawning. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you cooked dinner. “Hey.”

“Good evening, my love. Feel better?” You leaned your head against his, your hand weaving through his lavender locks.

He was practically purring against you. “Nah. I could sleep some more, but something smelled good.”

Trying to keep your voice even so as to not give anything away, you focused on cooking again. “Hmm, well now that you are up, do you think you could go to your apartment? I could hear her lonely meows but I didn’t want to leave the food.”

Hitoshi stepped back to stretch and yawn one more time. “I thought we closed those vents? Yeah, I’ll pick up the princess.” You bit your lower lip to hide your smile as he left the room.

You waited a few minutes till Hitoshi came barging back into the room, holding up Kuiper in a panic, a small note in his hand. “___! Kuiper’s pregnant?!” 

You didn’t look at him as you continued to cook. “Yeah, her too.”

 “Too?” You turned to him and placed a sonogram in his free hand. Hitoshi’s eyes widened, looking down at your hand now resting on your stomach. 

You smile at him as he placed Kuiper down on the ground, staring at the small picture of your eight-week-old fetus. “Mmhmm, too.”

Next thing you know, you are being spun in the air and kissed deeply by your ecstatic boyfriend. The rest of the night, Hitoshi was buzzing, his hand not leaving your stomach, even when you two were eating dinner.

The two of you laid together in bed, Kuiper against your chest and Hitoshi pressed against your back as he stroked circles around your stomach. “___.” You turned your head to face him as he whispered in your ear. “Marry me.”

You turned back to your cat, petting her as she purred in her sleep. “Nah.” You felt him go stiff and you turned back to him with a smirk, snickering. You kiss his forehead. “Kidding, yes.”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 52)

Just a Social Call

I very nearly didn’t post today. I hated this chapter and the one that comes after it, but after speaking to a couple of friends and sitting my ass down to rework them, I feel much better :) I hope you guys like this chapter even though it’s not too eventful. I do often worry about these kinds of chapters... But anyway, it includes some wound treatment, and lots of conversation with Charles, Micah and John, because hey, conversation is just what I do :’)

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I was reliving it. The screaming and yelling and the gunfire, the searing pain; ice cold, burning hot, ice cold. The blind panic, the total belief that I was going to die, that Arthur was too, and the rest of the gang. That everything was going up in smoke, literally, all around me. And it hurt. Physically and mentally, and my heart was thudding so hard in my chest it ached and soon I jolted awake, my eyes flashing open. 

My mouth was dry and I swallowed a couple of times, looking around the tent as my pulse began to return to normal, and my surroundings brought me out of the terrifying landscape my mind had painted in my sleep. I lifted my head and spotted a cup of water that Arthur must've left for me, since he wasn't around; already gone from his bedroll on the floor next to the bed I'd temporarily stolen from him. I reached for the cup and quenched my dry mouth, exhaling loudly as I put the cup back down and slumped back against the bed.

I stared up at the top of the tent and thought about my dream, about how real it had felt, just like the night it happened. I didn't know why I'd dreamt about it. I didn't like that I had. But it was only a dream, and I took comfort in the knowledge that I'd made it out alive and now here I was; safe and recovering.

The fabric of the tent was pinned back just a little to allow a breeze into the space, the sun was beating down and it was stuffy and humid, so the cooler air seeping in from the gap was appreciated. I shifted, peering through the gap into the camp; I spotted John, Arthur and Karen all sitting around the campfire, just being joined by Abigail. I sighed and slumped back down onto my back, resenting my injury from keeping me held back, away from everyone else. 

My eyes went out of focus where I gazed at the split in the canvas, from my position I saw trees and sky, though it all blurred into a mix of pale blue and brown as I lost myself for a while in the murmurs of the camp. I heard Abigail laughing, followed by Arthur and Karen, and wondered if John had said something funny. I sighed sadly, then jumped when a mass blocked out the sky through the gap. 

My eyes refocused; the mass appeared to be Charles, standing outside the tent. 

"Hello?" I called out when he didn't immediately do anything. 

"Oh, hey," he responded, "I was trying to listen to see if you were asleep."

"Come in," I invited, and he lifted the canvas and hesitantly peered inside, like he was expecting to find me in my undergarments or something. "Would you open it up fully, please? I feel lonely," I chuckled.

"Of course," he nodded, then set to work pulling back the majority of the canvas that was closing me off from the rest of the camp. "How're you feeling?"

"Pretty good. The burn behind my knee is giving me some trouble, though," I admitted.

"Yeah? That's why I'm here," he began, picking something up from the floor just outside the tent. It was a mortar and pestle, filled with purple flowers. "I went hunting yesterday, brought back some meat this morning, but I came across some lavender."

"Lavender," I repeated curiously. As he approached and moved a crate to sit down on, I caught the scent of the purple flowers inside the mortar, a lovely soft, fresh, soothing scent.

"Yeah, I thought I could mash it up, make a paste. If you want, we could put it on your wounds, it should help with the inflammation, and help keep at bay any infection," he told me. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course,” I nodded.

"I'll be as gentle as I can. Has anyone checked your wounds today?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, I'll take a look soon," he said, then placed the mortar on his lap, taking the pestle and beginning to grind the flowers down. 

The scent became stronger as he crushed the flowers, releasing the oils and fragrance into the air. I breathed in deeply, glancing out towards the sky as I laid back and waited. It smelled incredible. 

"How've you been sleeping?" Charles asked me after a moment, over the repetitive sound of the pestle rubbing along the bottom of the mortar. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching him add more lavender from a pouch he wore on his gun belt. I hesitated for a few moments before responding.

"Okay. Arthur was in here with me. I sleep better with him around," I told him, and Charles hummed in acknowledgement. "How're you doing? What do you think of the new camp?"

"It's not my favourite place," he admitted. "This whole area feels… dark. I don't like it. I prefer being further south-west. The trees out here; there's a lot of forest. Makes it hard to keep track of your surroundings. When I was hunting, I kept making myself paranoid, always looking over my shoulder. Like there's people everywhere, but they're good at hiding." 

"Oh, don't tell me that. You'll freak me out," I chuckled. Charles smirked.

"The girl who grew up in the swamp, getting freaked out so easily?" He teased. 

"I guess I got used to the swamp, and all the spooky things you hear at night."

"Swanson seemed to think the swamp was haunted," he pointed out.

"It could very well be. I always wondered. There were stories when I was growing up, 'bout a woman who haunts Bluewater Marsh, telling passing cowboys that she loves them." 

"Yeah? Maybe she just weren't interested in me," he snorted. I laughed, shaking my head at him. 

"I never heard anything that couldn't be explained away somehow," I told him. "It's probably just overactive imaginations. But it's understandable, it's creepy. You don't know what's out there in the fog, and some of the sounds the wildlife makes, you'd think it was a lonely spirit, crying out."

"Well, a spirit won't hurt you. People, though. The Night Folk? You didn't seem worried about them, so you shouldn't worry too much about the Murfree Brood, as long as you stick around camp or go out with a partner."

I chuckled, "sticking 'round camp should be easy, not sure I'll be going out for a while," I said. Charles hummed quietly, a little guiltily, but I smiled at him to show him I wasn't put out by the comment.

"You'll heal fast if you keep doing what you're doing; lots of rest and regular check ups."

I nodded in understanding. 

"I've spent time out here before," I changed the subject, "a little further south. After my parents passed I was looking for work, I came to Van Horn to see if there was anything going. I didn't have much luck, but I liked the place. I used to go up the lighthouse and look at the view, even slept up there a couple times after we lost the house. Never strayed into the forests too much, though."

"Van Horn. That's just a little place, right?" He asked. I nodded my head.

"Ain't much to it, and I wouldn't call it pretty. But it's near the water, and it's usually quiet."

"You like being near the water?" 

"Yeah. I always liked that about growing up in the swamps, only in Van Horn, or 'round Flat Iron lake at Clemens Point, there ain't no alligators," I chuckled. "I don't know. The sound of the water lapping up against the shore has always been nice to me. What sort of place do you like?"

"Anywhere that's open," he told me. "I don't like cities. Or even really towns. I liked being out west, before Blackwater. That's the freest place I've been; only it's so damn hot out there. The sun doesn't pull any punches. So uh, I guess The Heartlands, near our camp at Horseshoe Overlook. That was my kind of place. Minus all the O'Driscolls and Cornwall's henchmen."

"Yeah, I liked that place too," I nodded, letting out a soft sigh. 

"May I?" Charles nodded to my leg as he put the mortar aside.

"Of course, thank you," I said hitching my skirt up enough to expose my bandaged leg.

"My hands are clean. I washed them before I came in and started working with the flowers," he assured me as he scooted forwards, and delicately began unwinding the bandage. 

I glanced over at the mortar, seeing a pulpy, thick paste inside. I pressed my lips together as he peeled the dressing's final layer away from my skin. I didn't look as he inspected it. Each time someone came to check my wounds, I was nervous, half expecting them to discover puss and all sorts, dooming me. 

"It looks like it's healing well," he told me, and I released a relieved breath. "I'm going to have to touch it to apply this, you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," I nodded. 

"How's the patient, doc?" Arthur's voice made me jump a little. I glanced towards the foot of the bed to where he was leaning up against the side of the wagon with his coffee in his hand. 

"She's okay. She's letting me apply some lavender to her burns. It should help soothe them, and lessen any pain."

"They don't look too bad," Arthur commented. "Still hurting?" He glanced at me. 

"A little," I nodded. 

"When she says a little, I'm concerned she means a lot, and she's just putting on a brave face," Charles mused quietly in a monotone.

"I might be inclined to share that concern, Mr. Smith," Arthur nodded, his eyes on mine. 

"It's… moderate. Hurts worse in the evening, for some reason."

Charles hummed thoughtfully. "The blistered parts don't look as bad, they're going down. I'll avoid those, don't want to risk bursting them," he told me, and I watched him as he scooped some of the lavender pulp onto his fingers, and gingerly packed it against my leg, sticking to the less severe of my burns. He was careful enough that it only hurt a little more than it did anyway.

"You think it'll scar?" I asked. 

"I… I'd be surprised if it didn't. But I can't imagine it'll be too bad. Probably only on the worst parts, like here; on the outer part of your calf," he explained, and I nodded in understanding. 

Charles was very gentle as he applied the paste, pressing carefully and only enough to make sure it stuck. It caused discomfort, of course, but not a lot. Arthur was quiet, staring down at my leg with a slightly pursed mouth and a look of deep thought on his face, his brow furrowed a bit. I knew him well enough by then that I could tell he was feeling guilty, just like he had the night it happened. Just like he had when my neck was wounded by the O'Driscoll.

"Scars don't really bother me. Just a reminder of how lucky we all are to be alive, right?" I said, and they both glanced at me. 

"I guess that's one way of looking at it," Charles said, and I looked at the scar across his cheek, wondering if it bothered him. It shouldn't, I thought, it was interesting, as far as scars went. It framed his face in a way that gave him something extra, rather than take away. Similarly to John's. Perhaps I was odd, thinking that scars made a person more interesting to look at. 

I looked at Arthur, then, seeing him thumb the scar on his own chin, and I smiled at him. The smile he returned to me was small but affectionate.

"Okay, just gotta wrap this back up, alright? How was that?" Charles asked, sitting back and reaching for the tin of medical supplies that stayed on the table by the bed while I was recovering. He opened it up and retrieved some fresh dressing. 

"It was fine. Thank you, Charles," I nodded, nibbling on my bottom lip for a moment as he began to wrap my leg back up. "Actually, thank you for everything. I never said this, but when it happened, I know I clung to you like a baby; thank you for being there."

"Don't thank me. I just happened to be next to you, I didn't do anything special," he replied, his voice a little quiet and uncomfortable. He stole a glance at Arthur, then added, "I know I wouldn't've been your first choice," he released a laugh. 

I wasn't really sure why he said that, or what he meant by it exactly. Arthur was staring at him too, looking about as clueless as me. 

"Well, I appreciated your support in that moment. It was scary, I wasn't really sure what had happened but you kept me grounded," I continued, meeting Charles' eyes again. He simply nodded, his lips sealed. 

Arthur took a drink of his coffee, screwing his face up. "I think I'll have to bar Mr. Duffy from making the coffee. This is so bitter, it's barely drinkable," he murmured, "you folks want any coffee? Think I'll make a fresh batch." 

"Oh, that'd be nice," I nodded, "thanks."

"I'm good, thanks," Charles said, and then Arthur headed off with a nod. Charles finished bandaging my leg, and was closing up the tin when he spoke again, "sorry for the odd response earlier. I know Arthur's been feeling guilty over all this and not being able to keep you safe. I didn't want to make him feel like I was somehow– I don't know. I know he would've liked to have been there for you that night, instead."

I looked at him for a moment, considering. "You didn't want to make him feel worse. Or… inadequate," I murmured. 

"Yeah. Didn't take me long to figure out what kind of person he is. I don't think he's the jealous type, I think he's more likely to just feel bad about himself," he said, and I glanced over at Arthur where he was making the coffee across the camp. 

"You hit the nail on the head. I weren't thanking you to rub his face in it or nothing–"

"No, I know."

"Did he say something to you?" I questioned. He took a breath as he wiped his hands on his pants, ridding himself of bits of crushed lavender.

"When we were heading up here together, it was a long ride. We talked about a lot of things, about Guarma. About what happened while he was away. About the gang, and of course, you came up," he explained. He paused for a while before elaborating, and I was beginning to worry that Arthur would return before he could finish. "He's scared for you. He's never had a woman he loves in the gang before, he didn't realise how much it was going to worry him. Apparently he invited Mary to run with the gang a couple times, back when they were together. I think he's starting to realise how naive he used to be, now he's being stared in the face by just how fragile life can be."

"Seeing so many people he cares about die in the space of a few months will do that to a person, I suppose," I sighed. 

"Exactly," he nodded. 

I'd realised by then that Arthur was a nurturing person at heart, but he didn't realise it himself. He took on so much responsibility for the gang, and after I came into his life and we fell for each other, he felt responsible for keeping me safe too. I could see that he felt like somewhat of a failure when for whatever reason, he couldn't.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Whenever I've spoken to him, he seems torn. He keeps saying he wants us to leave, find a safer life together. But he cares for this gang so much– I know it ain't gonna happen until he knows everyone else has a future. And I understand that." 

"There comes a point though…" Charles began under his breath, looking over his shoulder briefly, "where he has to realise that all of us? The gang? We've got each other. We'll figure a way with or without him, it ain't hanging on his shoulders alone. But you two? I, uh… I don't know. Maybe he needs to think about what he's putting first. Who really needs him the most. What he needs."

I stared at Charles with slightly parted lips, my mind reeling, buzzing. I didn't know what to say. He had a point and his words forced me to wonder and really question; did Arthur actually want to leave with me?

Arthur returned a few moments later, handing me a cup of fresh, hot coffee once I'd shifted to sit upright. I thanked him, and blew across the top of the cup, waiting for it to cool enough to sip. 

"I need to get something to eat, then I'm heading out again," Charles announced, smacking his palms against his thighs before pushing up to his feet. 

"Where you going? Anything you need a second gun for?" Arthur asked. 

"Oh, it's not always a job for guns, Arthur," Charles told him, a playful sternness in his tone at Arthur's automatic assumptions. "I'm going to the reservation. Bringing them some supplies; food, mostly. I'll manage alone. I thought you had somewhere to be today, anyway."

"Ahh, I don't know if I'm goin'," Arthur waved a hand dismissively. 

"Going where?" I asked curiously. 

"Got a letter from that Braithwaite girl," Arthur replied.

"Excuse me," Charles said quietly, ducking out of the tent and leaving us to talk. 

"Thanks again, Charles. Take care of yourself," I said before he left, and he nodded. 

"See you later," Arthur added.

"Penelope?" I asked Arthur, sipping my coffee as he took Charles' place by the bed. He hummed with a nod. "What did she say?"

"She's requested my help. After I helped out with that march of hers I guess she figured I wouldn't mind helping her again, but it's an awful long way away now. Not sure if I wanna head back down south just yet," he breathed, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. 

"Is it too dangerous?" I frowned. 

He sighed quietly. "No," he admitted a little glumly, "I lost that excuse when I busted John from the state penitentiary. Sneaking into the Braithwaite's place is a little less dangerous than that."

"But you don't wanna go," I noted. 

"She wants me to get her out of there, bring her to meet what's-his-face at the train station," he explained, "It's a long way away from here," he reiterated. 

"I remember you telling me we'd help them, if we could," I said softly. Arthur laughed through his nose, smirking.

"I thought you might remember that," he murmured. 

"I ain't gonna force you, not since I can't come along with you or do it myself," I shrugged, drinking more coffee, glancing out towards the main campfire. Arthur was quiet for a few moments.

"No, I'll go. Who knows, might make us a bit of money," he eventually said under his breath. 

"Yeah? Not 'cause you're a hopeless romantic at heart?" I teased. Arthur rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, an eye roll, you've been a real rogue these days. Disobeying orders, showing a little attitude," I smirked at him as I teased, and he huffed a laugh.

"Should I apologise for my transgressions?" He queried, cocking a brow.

"No. Not if this is you realising you're perfectly capable of thinking for yourself," I replied, thinking back to our conversation in his room at Shady Belle, when he admitted that he'd never had to think for himself, he just did as he was told.

"Mm. Maybe it is."

"You seen Dutch this morning?"

"Not really, I think he's still pissed off at me."

"Well then, he's a fool."

"I see Jack playing with his pa and it don't matter much to me what Dutch thinks. A boy should have his daddy around, if it can be helped," he mumbled, staring down into his coffee cup. My lips parted, but I drew a blank; I knew what he was thinking about. I reached a hand to his knee, giving it a squeeze.

"Arthur, I want you to know I'm proud of you. You're harder on yourself than anybody else is, but you have a lot of good in you. It always prevails," I told him, not minding that he kept his eyes down rather than meeting mine. "It's why I love you. One of the many reasons."

"It's when you say things like that, I just picture packing up all our stuff onto this wagon and just getting the hell out of here before Dutch can even tell me what he thinks of the idea," he murmured. I withdrew my hand, cupped my coffee with both hands as I stared at him for a while. Eventually, he looked up at me to analyse my silence. 

“I won’t hold my breath, but you know I’d never protest,” I sighed. Arthur looked sad for a moment, but I smiled at him, not wanting to go there. He smiled back and took a breath.

"Alright, princess. I got a love story to meddle in, haven't I?" He smirked.

"You go meddle in it, cross that off your list. One thing at a time," I smiled at him, "I'll be here when you get back, ain't going anywhere," I gestured to my leg with a sigh. 

Arthur retrieved his coffee, downed the remainder, then stood up. He cupped the back of my skull and kissed my forehead, then smoothed his palm over my hair a few times before straightening up. 

"I'll see you later, sweetheart. Can I get you anything before I go?" He queried, and I shook my head. 

"I'm all good, thank you."

"What about a kiss, can I tempt you with one o' those?" He asked. I chuckled at the unexpected offer, and nodded. 

"Go on then," I said, then he leaned down again, a finger under my chin to lift my lips to his. The kiss was tame and sweet, just enough for me to taste him and leave me greedily wanting more. Then he smiled at me one last time, and left.

-

I was excited to hear that Micah needed a button reattached to a pair of trousers. Not that I particularly enjoyed doing chores for him, he always seemed to get some sort of weird, gloating enjoyment from it, like he felt that me doing him a favour somehow gave him validation that he was above me. But I was just bored. Tired of feeling like a useless layabout, wanting to contribute to something, I was restless without productivity. I understood all too well how Arthur had felt during his recovery after his return from the O'Driscolls. 

So, I sat on the bed with my sewing kit, doing an especially good job of repairing the garment, making sure that the button wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The monotonous task of looping the thread through the button, pulling it flush to the trousers, securing, fixing, maintaining, was nice to absorb myself in and killed some time. When it was repaired, I did a good scan of the beige fabric, pulling seams, inspecting stitching, searching for anything that might need my attention. I found a row of loose stitching on the inner seam, and so I spent a few minutes more taking some preventative measures in reinforcing it. 

By the time I was done they were as good as new. I folded them neatly and handed them back to him when he came over to me in the afternoon.

"Thanks, doll, you ain't left no pins in there to stab me in the nutsack, have you?" He asked when he tucked them under his arm, crumpling them. 

"I'm low on pins, ain't worth wasting one on your nutsack," I murmured in response. 

"Right. Anyway, whenever Morgan gets back from whatever he's out doing, you let him know Dutch and I are in Annesburg, won't you? Need him to join us, soon as possible," he told me, his tone all serious and authoritative.

"Annesburg. What're you doing out there? I can tell you right now there ain't much worth robbing over there, ain't exactly a rich town."

"Business, my dear. Ain't nothing you gotta worry your pretty head about," he cooed, and I frowned in confusion. 

"What business you got? I'll worry my pretty head all I like, when you and Dutch are pulling Arthur out to some middle-of-nowhere mining town for business, when not twenty-four hours ago you was looking at him like he was the spawn of Satan for going out and damning us all," I spat, cocking my head.

"As much as I'm sure he'd love to spend all day hiding under your skirt, we've got wind of Cornwall stopping through there, Dutch wants to go pay him a visit to talk things out like men, try and stop him sending the Pinkertons after us like foxes to a coop," Micah explained, idly picking up the photograph of me standing up on one of the crates along with all of Arthur's other keepsakes. His moustache curled snidely at the sight of it, then he put it back down. "Don't worry. We ain't going out there to bump off old Sparkly Blues Morgan."

I snorted at Micah's attempt at a derogatory name for him, taking it only as proof that even he had noticed how lovely Arthur's eyes were. 

I smiled tightly. "Alright. I'll let him know." 

"Good girl," he grinned, nodded courteously, and spun on his heel to leave. My gut churned at his tone and his praise. It astounded me how different those words felt whenever Arthur whispered them to me.

“What was all that about?” A gravelly voice startled me and I gasped when John rounded the corner from behind the wagon. 

“Jesus, John,” I breathed, and he smirked at me.

“Sorry,” he laughed.

“It weren’t nothing. He just wanted me to pass a message on to Arthur,” I told him with a casual shrug. I looked him up and down, pleased to see him cleaned up and looking slightly less like a delinquent. “How’re you settling in?”

“Good as I could hope, considering daddy didn't want me back,” he said drily, coming and sitting up on the table next to the bed, putting his feet up on the chair. I smiled in amusement at his choice of seat. 

“I’m glad you’re back, I hope that counts for something,” I told him quietly and he looked at me from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, it does, actually,” he exhaled, then looked at me fully. “I uh… I wanted to ask you somethin’,” he began.

“Okay,” I nodded, cocking my head.

“Since you’re a woman, I guess I feel like you’d be the best for this,” he said, and I raised my brows a little, curiosity piqued, “do you… really think Abigail and I got a chance?”

“I’m sorry,” I balked, completely astounded as to why he’d think I was qualified to answer such a question.

“Well, she’s been different since I been back, I can't explain it. She’s nicer. I feel like maybe things are looking up, but I don’t quite know where I stand,” he sighed, gesticulating anxiously, “I’m sure you know by now what a shitty man I’ve been to her. I guess I wanna know, do you reckon a woman could ever forgive a man like me?”

“I really ain’t the one to ask this, and I think you know that,” I said, and he sighed heavily, though he nodded.

“At least give me some… reassurance,” he pleaded and I chuckled.

“You want reassurance,” I repeated drily, glancing out over the camp, considering.

“I know I ought to be speaking to her about this. And we have, a little, but somehow I feel like she ain’t being as open with me as she could be. Or maybe I’m not. I don't know, I ain’t ever been good at this,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated with himself. I met his eyes and offered him a comforting smile.

“John, just tell her how you feel. If you want to make things really work with her then she’s gotta know your heart’s in it, and not that you’re just going through the motions because it’s what everyone expects of you,” I told him, leaning closer to him, “is it what you want?”

He was quiet for a few long seconds, his eyes dropping down to his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon it is,” he said under his breath.

“Then tell her. She’ll appreciate that. Transparency is the most important–” I caught myself, realising I was sounding far more knowledgeable than I really had any right pretending I was, “if being with Arthur has taught me anything, it’s that being honest and transparent is a lot easier than holding things back.”

“You two seem to have it figured out. Relationships, I mean, you seem to just work,” John mused, and it put a smile on my face.

“Arthur and I… we’ve got our own stuff,” I told him softly, “but we talk, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if talkin’s gonna solve all me and Abigail's problems, talking usually turns into shouting,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe not, but it’s a start. Just… try not to let it get to the shouting stage,” I smiled sheepishly. 

“That ain’t usually my call.”

“Hey, that’s the kind of flippant attitude that’ll get you yelled at,” I snorted, smacking his knee lightly.

“Alright!” He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. I exhaled loudly and smiled at him.

“You and Abigail can work if you try, that's my official response; as a woman,” I smirked. “You just need to speak to each other. She loves you, and so does Jack. Don’t squander what you’ve got. You’ll need each other when this all falls apart.”

“You sound pretty confident that this-” he gestured to our surroundings- “ain’t being held together by much.”

“Well, do you disagree?” I queried.

“No. Guess I’m just surprised to hear you validate it,” he breathed.

We both fell into silence for a few moments, each staring off into space and letting the conversation sink in.

“John?” I started, softly and timidly.

“Mm?” He looked at me.

“Work things out with Abigail. Get out of here, both of you, with Jack,” I whispered. His dark eyes widened a bit as he stared, then he blinked and looked away, his lips parting but nothing coming out. “I think everybody knows that it’d be best for you.”

“I…” He tried, shaking his head, fiddling with his hands. “I don't know what’ll happen. We’re all just… doing our best, right?” He met my eyes again, his expression soft, brows arched.

“Yeah,” I nodded, words hushed and coming out with an exhale, “we are.”

[phandom-phriend]

Phic Pight 2020 - Found Ideals

“Danny struggles to come out of closet and admit he's gay. He’d rather throw himself into fight after fight than deal with the shame and embarrassment that comes with figuring out your sexuality. After catching a ghost flu, Danny is bedridden for a week. Leaving him alone in his thoughts” | Prompt by @sailor-toni

Word count: 1,205

So, you could say that Danny’s life is tough. With double the troubles and double the responsibilities that any fourteen year old should have, it reflects in his slumped shoulders and tired attitude. Not that you can really blame him… if you know about his double-life, at least.

There’s the typical high school drama. Being both the school's resident punching bag and freak already sets the bar low enough as it is. Trouble with teachers because he can’t do his work properly. Barely having enough time to eat. Not to mention whatever his friends might be debating or arguing over that particular day. He loves them, but some peace wouldn’t hurt every now and again.

Then there’s also his home life. His parents love him, sure, but he can't deny that they can be… neglectful at times. So while the two of them are constant and loud parts of his life, he can’t really say the last time he had a meal with them. Or a conversation on something other than grades and ghosts. Even then that’s with his human half. With all the equipment they make to take Phantom down and all the times they have little squabbles of their own, it’s pretty strange to deal with mentally.

It’s sad, really. That Phantom gets more time and attention from his parents than just plain old Danny does.

Anyway.

So when Danny first realized his general attraction to some other boy at the pool that previous summer, you can bet he shoved those feelings deep, deep down. He has enough on his plate as-is. No need to throw in some… random attraction to some stranger. It’s not like it meant anything, he was just… appealing to look at.

But that summer, that long, long summer, is what opened his reluctant eyes. He found himself recognizing his like for the male leads in books and shows as more than just admiration for their, typically, heroic acts. He found his eyes tended to be drawn more towards the male models in ads rather than the female ones. And his attraction to Paulina seemed so… fake now. Like it always had been, but the fog had cleared away to make room for more realizations and uneasy feelings.

It just, it couldn’t mean anything! He wasn’t gay or something. He’s seen those openly out at school, he’s heard the slurs in the hallways aimed in their direction. Aimed his way from time to time as well if a bully was feeling particularly nasty. So, no. He couldn’t be gay. He wasn’t something that could be said in such a way that it looked physically painful to acknowledge. He wasn’t one of them. That was their thing, and that’s fine! But that was their thing. Ghost was his thing. That was his ticked off box. He didn’t have another one to check off as well. No, just, nope.

So all these thoughts and feelings got pushed down inside of himself with all the other things he refuses to outwardly acknowledge. Nestled right between the fact that he literally died and the fact that he doesn't actually like the fudge his dad makes. Just something he will keep to himself until the thought either goes away entirely or it stops hurting.

And this worked, for a while. His days passed by with no real significance to those issues buried in the depths of himself. No one caught on and it became something that was almost forgotten entirely. Just another secret hidden from the rest of the world that he carried with him. No big deal.

Instead he put all of his energy into his fights. Each punch, kick, and blast having more force behind it than usual. Fights stopped sooner, but the bruises grew. It was hard to hide them all, but the pain was easier to focus on than the intrusive thoughts, so it was worth it in his eyes. Nothing some of his sisters concealer and a few well-placed bandages couldn’t hide. And he’s a clumsy kid as it is, so who's to say anyone would notice the change anyway?

That is, until he got sick.

Illness wasn’t something that typically affected him anymore since The Accident. It was something he witnessed in others. Something he copied on occasion to blend in. Admittedly, at the beginning, he still got stuffy noses and colds. Tucker's guess was that the sudden DNA change needed some time to adjust, like how he gains new powers or when he first started out and his current powers would surface without control in his human form. Danny just leaves it as “another weird ghost thing”.

But there’s this little thing that the Ghost Zone has elected not to tell him. A little thing, when translated into human terms, known as ghost flu. Simple, but it gets the point across. Apparently even when you die you can still get sick, which he’s sure not many people are going to look forward to…

Leaving aside the questions of “Are there ghost vaccines?” “Ghost medicine?” “Doctor appointments and other ailments?”, it seems that he has come down with a case of the dastardly disease. Luckily it just seemed like the normal flu in his human half, so his parents didn’t question it too much when he began to sneeze and strike a high fever.

Which is how Danny ends up home alone. His parents at some tech conference and his sister at school, he is left in his room to wallow in the misery of a hazy mind and sweaty clothes.

Surprisingly, Danny only wished that his mind was even more clouded.

He is just aware enough for his thoughts to circle back, but too hazed to keep the hidden ones… hidden. Most of them would just lead to either the questioning of his existence or make him sad for the next few miserable hours. So that left his… sexuality? Is that even what he could call it? Is that what it really was?

That feels like such a big term, such a big label to decide. Is his attention to other males really such a big deal? It could just be some odd phase. Sure, the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes that it has always really been boys that got his attention easier. But that doesn't mean anything! He still liked Paulina and talked about girls with Tucker. So, really. There’s just no way.

Sure, it’s always him bouncing off of Tucker’s enthusiasm. And he may not be able to recall a single girl that was attractive to him in the same way as that guy at the pool. And maybe he’s just always assumed that was “normal”. But so what? None of that means anything, really. It’s not like he can picture himself falling in love and even marrying some guy in the distant future who would look stunning in a suit or at some alter. Or how the two of them would be partners in every sense of the word and Danny wouldn’t have to be afraid to tell him about Phantom. Or even how they’d get a dog alongside Cujo and maybe even talk about adoption some day.

Definitely not.

…

…

…

…...Fuck.

[hrhowling]

save your loving arms for a rainy day - chapter 5

AO3 Link

MJ couldn’t spend every second of every day in the hospital with him. She slept on a pull-out couch in the hospital room for the first night, but a text from work in the morning sparked a heated, if one-sided debate. Peter wasn’t about to get in the way of his wife’s career, but in turn, MJ was adamant against leaving him alone in a hospital, where he was clearly freaking out.

“I’m not!” Peter wanted to say, but yet again, the words were minced on the way out and he was left frustrated and struggling not to start a tirade of grumbling.

At least MJ understood the words behind his rambling, even if it added more fuel to the fire. “You are absolutely freaking out, Peter Parker! I didn’t see you settle down all night last night, you are cagey around the nurses, I couldn’t even leave to go to the bathroom yesterday without you watching me leave like I’m going to… drop dead at any second.”

Peter winced. That… really stung…

MJ let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, that was… that was low. I’m not mad at you, I just…” Another sigh, she was doing this a lot lately. “…Something’s stressing you out, and it’s stressing me out. I just want you to be okay.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to deflate. He couldn’t fault MJ for this.

“I can afford to miss a few rehearsals,” MJ continued. “It’s early days, everyone on the team understands.”

Everyone knows, were the words lurking about in Peter’s head. He felt the bed sink as MJ sat down next to him.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked softly. “You’ve been tense all night.”

“Mmnh,” Peter managed, not looking at her. How was he supposed to tell her? Even if he could speak straight, his mind was too fogged over to put together a coherent explanation. MJ put his hand in hers, but with what he wanted to say, they’d be there forever.

Instead, he reached round to fumble for the magazine lying on the bedside table, the one that Jonah had left him. Pain burned along his arm and back, but he managed to grab it and show MJ the front cover, which had his name and picture plastered obnoxiously over it. Through the thick covering of bandages on half his face, he gave her the most worried look he could manage.

MJ nodded, “I see what you’re on about.” Another sigh, “Dammit.”

“Mm?”

“Sorry, it’s just… we’ve been getting a lot of trouble from reporters since… you know… Nosy pricks won’t take no for an answer…”

“O…” Peter’s expression turned grim. He should’ve thought about that.

“It’s fine, they’re just… annoying.”

They resolved for MJ to stay for a few days, but then Peter insisted she get back to work. She had a life outside of worrying after him. MJ was reluctant, but agreed for Peter’s peace of mind.

A nurse came in to drop off breakfast for the two. Peter’s plate remained untouched by the time Aunt May poked her head through the door, a large bag in her hand.

“Peter,” she gasped, surging over and engulfing her nephew in a tight hug. “You’re okay.”

Whining softly, Peter returned the hug as best he could, a fresh pain blooming across his back.

“I can’t believe I missed seeing you wake up, and it was Jameson’s mug you woke up to. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

The ensuing laughter hurt like hell, forcing tears out of his eyes and searing through his chest, but it was worth it for the smile on his Aunt May’s face. A strained one, but a smile, nonetheless. “You gave us a real scare, honey,” she murmured, pressing a firm kiss against his forehead. “I am so glad you’re alright.”

Were his eyes meant to sting more after hearing that?

“I’m sorry,” he tried, but the attempt was futile, yet again and all that came out was a nonsensical mumble that made his aunt frown. “I’m sorry.”

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“M-Mh…”

“There was some… damage,” MJ explained softly, and the frown deepened. “We’re going to sort out some speech therapy soon.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve really been put through the wringer this time.”

Peter shook his head, nope. No, he was not going to cry in front of his already stressed-out family. Just smile; it’s not that bad. After all, you could be dead. It could be so… so much worse.

Gentle hands wiped at his eyes, and he flinched.

“Hhu…”

Aunt May’s frown had shifted in tone by the time he focused back on her. “Peter Benjamin Parker, if I catch you trying to pull the wool over my eyes again, it’ll be cheeseburgers from here on out.”

“Uuuoh!” Peter protested, and Aunt May chuckled.

“If you ever want to eat kosher junk food again, then you need to be honest with us. Capiche?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Ngh.” Capiche.

“There you go. Also,” May held up a large shopping bag, “I got you some things. Figured you’d get bored here with just the stuffy old doctors.”

Peter perked up at that, and he swore the room looked just a little brighter.

Stuck in between the pages of one of his physics textbooks was a crumpled note. Peter didn’t notice until he opened it and the paper fluttered into his lap.

DON’T FORGET!!! for Peter:

Textbooks

Laptop

Glasses

Science mags

Card from Miles

From who?

Frowning, Peter searched around for any sign of the aforementioned card, under his sheets, in the drawer in the bedside table, going so far as to hang off the bed to try and look under it.

That turned out to be a mistake, and the next thing he knew, he was toppling off the side and onto the floor. Something started bleeping frantically, and he screamed out in the fresh agony that seared through his entire body. Legs, chest, back, all of it burned like he’d been dropped into hell.

“Sweet baby Jesus, what’s going on in here?”

Peter didn’t recognise the voice, but the sight of a seafoam green uniform and work shoes, blurred with tears, had his gut tying knots around his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing? Terry! Terry, I need some help here!”

Footsteps thundered in his head with the piercing bleep of whatever monitor Peter had set off. Strong arms lifted him up off the floor, and he tried kicking away from whoever was picking him up, to no avail. Next thing he knew, he was back on the bed and two nurses were crowding over him, one of them reattaching the heart monitor to his chest while the other ducked back under the bed.

“Kid,” the female nurse began sternly, and Peter was suddenly seeing his aunt in nurse’s scrubs, “I don’t know what happened, but you really need to keep your tush in that bed. You’re not Spider-Man in here.”

Meek and clutching his chest, Peter nodded in agreement.

The other nurse; a rather muscled-looking man who definitely worked out; reappeared from under the bed reappeared from under the bed holding an envelope, wonkily sealed in colourful tape.

“Were you after this?” he asked, holding up an envelope sealed with brightly coloured tape.

“Is this what you were after?” he asked.

Another nod, yes, and the nurse handed the envelope to him.

“Next time something falls under your bed, ask someone else to help,” the lady nurse grumbled as she pulled the blanket over him. Her hair was greying and there was a firm steel in her eyes, but that was where the similarities with Aunt May ended.

Peter nodded, “Mm.”

“Good. My name’s Edith, and this is Terry. We work this ward most days, so if you need anything, just give us a shout.”

Peter gave them a thumbs up, and the two nurses seemed satisfied with that. Edith left, Terry lingered a little, staring, before following. Once Peter was certain that they were gone, he set his sights on the decent-sized envelope that he gingerly held in his hands. His name, Peter Parker, was written on it in bright markers and looked like it whoever had written it had copy-pasted a piece of street art onto it.

Peter frowned. Who was Miles? He didn’t know anyone called Miles.

But his Aunt May had seen this letter as important, enough so that she brought it to him, out of all the letters and gifts she had said were piling up on the front door. What else was there to do besides open it?

Inside was one of those blank cards that you could add your own design to, and drawn on it was a bright, stylised portrait of himself on a webbed background of red and blue, “Thank You” written in swooping letters. Opening the card revealed another drawing, this time of vibrant figures swooping through skyscrapers. One of them looked like him, then another was in white, two wore black, there was a robot, and… was that a pig?

Blinking away the confusion, he looked over the message on the other side.

To Peter Parker

You don’t really know me, but I’m that kid you saved at the collider. Thank you for that.

I took care of Fisk and the collider for you, with some help from a few friends. I wish you’d gotten to meet them, but I guess pictures will have to do.

A lot happened after you were hurt, and I don’t think I could explain it in a card, but you should ask your Aunt May for the whole story.

You’ve been an inspiration to me, and I hope you get better soon.

Sincerely,

Miles Morales

Peter frowned. Miles Morales? He didn’t know anyone with that name, did he? And… there had been kid at the collider? His memories of the event were fuzzy at best, but… at least the kid was okay, but what was he doing fighting violent multi-billionaires? Even with help, that was dangerous.

This Miles seemed to know Aunt May, he’d have to ask her about this.

At the moment, though, his bones felt heavy and his eyes ached. He set the card on the bedside table and went to sleep.

He woke up to a buzzing in his skull. Persistent, alien, familiar.

Then it was gone, and he felt… empty. Alone in the ocean.

He went back to sleep.

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars, enjoy!

[zackgardner]

Dead Space

Dead Space - Zack Gardner - SciFi - 3742 words - 2017

 The breakneck pace that the Impervious365-X4 had maintained for the past three billion lightyears suddenly pulled back to a lurching crawl, its final destination within sight. The Impervious365-X4 shifted into a comfortable orbit of the blue planet, hissing precise bursts of compressed air to adjust its calculated course. Screens long dark flicked on, back-up systems powering up with a sleepy whine. Cool blue wall panels slowly illuminated the cockpit of the cumbersome vessel.

The A.I. system powered up all of its resources, leaving its hibernation state and returning its CPU and processing speeds to normal. It reinserted its empathy drive along with its short term RAM and ran a SYS check. There was something that needed to be done; something primary. Something urgent. Full interior and exterior cameras and mics rebooted, giving the onboard A.I. its senses back, just as the SYS check completed, flooding the AI's human-esque mind with feelings and memories.

"Oh dear," the A.I. stated aloud. Strapped to main control chair in the cockpit was one of the Portsuits, inhabited. The A.I. activated the control chair's functions, connecting with the Portsuit. It began to recount the events from three billion years ago, before the jump to lightspeed, as data simultaneously poured from the Portsuit into the onboard AI.

"Oh dear." It stated again to itself.

 It was dark and he couldn't move. Panic wasn't far behind, but at least he knew it wasn’t far behind, so there was solace in that, right? He couldn’t even tell if it was darkness, or his eyes were shut. Everything felt fuzzy and off. He tried remembering how he got here and came up blank. He tried remembering the most basic of things and came up blank. Panic arrived just in time. If he could have made himself scream, he would have.

"Oh dear." He heard, his mind instantaneously clearing of the panic. He could hear - that was a start. There were the humming and soft grinding sounds of computers, the buzz of fluorescents.

"Now Master Fiore, I'm going to have to ask you to stay as calm as possible while I try to reconnect your senses." The voice held a thick British accent, prim and proper, but with the softness and monotone obviously making it a computer system. Aside from that, the voice was oddly familiar. Comfortably familiar.

Reconnect, he wondered? And suddenly there was blinding light and clarity, as vision returned to him. The luminescent of the control panel screens, brushed steel and plastics of the cockpit and the dull glare of the thick glass viewport. A massive blue and green planet took up half of the window, the other half a quick atmospheric fade to the stark black of outer space. He gasped at the beauty in spite of himself, hearing his intake of breath through the mic in the Portsuit.

"That should do for visual. And audio input/output should be up as well." The same disconnected British voice. "Can you hear me, Master Fiore?"

Fiore. That sounded right. There was a familiarity to that as well.

"Y-Yes. I am… I am having some difficulties." He said with a shaky voice, tinny over the Portsuit's microphone. “M-motor functions and… and I my, ah, my memory is - is blank.” He tried lifting his hand, looking down at his arm slowly responding, the sleeve of the Portsuit fading seamlessly into its bulky glove.

“Well, Master Fiore, you are a doctor of cybernetics returning from a long-haul run to an outrigger colony. Your full name is Amadeus Fiore, no middle name, the ship you are currently on is called the Impervious365-X4, and my name is-”

“Pervy!” Fiore almost shouted. “We called you Pervy!”

“Very good sir.” The A.I. stated dryly. “We had some complications upon the initiation of cryosleep whilst cycling up the hyperdrive. In response to that, you donned one of the ship’s Portsuits to use its hibernation function. Rather bold move, I do say, but at the time, the best option you had, Master Fiore.”

“Well thank you… Pervy.” Fiore chuckled. “I’m still having some issues with this suit. My mobility is shot. Can we maybe run a recalibration to the suit’s servos?” The Portsuit was a fitted spacesuit, meant to protect and enhance those on the longer trips into deep space. It was a fully enclosed suit, visor and helmet that could protect against the extreme negative temperatures, pressure differences and strains of zero gravity that travelers would come across. Not only that, the models that the Impervious365-X4 was equipped with also boasted full musculature support, full sensory support, full temporal uplink, and even a basic cryo-hibernation option. When equipped, the suit could jack into the brainstem access port all of the crewmembers had had surgically embedded into the base of their skull, at the hairline. All of the suit’s options, or whatever piece of equipment the suit was ported to, could then be controlled cerebrally.

“Certainly, Master Fiore, I have it running now. You should be mobile momentarily… But, sir, there are some other concerns that I should bring to your attention.”

 “Oh yes, Ama, there are other concerns,” came a female voice, sultry, and as though whispered into his ear. He recognized the voice and the moniker. A memory of a feeling. On the tip of his tongue. He jerked his head towards the sound, of course, just the empty cockpit. Just him and Pervy.

 “Of Course, Pervy. I-I appreciate your concern.” Fiore said, shaking it off. “It’s nice to know I have a friend such as you, if I know nothing else!”

“Sir, need I remind you, I have no real emotions or emotional attachment. I merely act on one of my prime directives as to the safety and welfare of the crew…”  The A.I. responded cordially.

“Well that’s good to know too, Pervy, but it would have been better if you’da just taken the compliment.” Fiore laughed exasperatedly. Maybe he should have the A.I. run a SYS test on his access port. Or maybe the temporal uplink needed recalibrated? Who was that girl??

“Alas, sir, undeservedly so. It was all your idea to use the Portsuit – when all of the cryochambers were full.” The A.I. responded. “But, sir if you don’t mind, can I ask what happened just now? Your vitals spiked off the charts for a moment there…”

“Nothing, Pervy… Nothing.” Fiore knotted his brow and pinched his eyes shut trying to put it out of his head. “I’m fine now-wait!!! Chamber-s?! Pervy, cryochambers plural?! There’s more sleepers onboard??” Fiore shouted, leaping up from the chair. Was she there? Was there a She? “Show me!” He exclaimed, slapping the Portsuit’s gauntlet against the Open panel and rushing out the porthole as it slid open.

“To the left up here, Master Fiore,” The A.I.’s voice paced him as he ran down the curved-walled corridor. “Our course has us maintaining orbit for the next three hours until we reach our descent/landing trajectory… I will directly be beginning the rejuvenation cycle for the other passengers, but first, sir, I really need to-”

“Pervy!” Fiore shouted, halting suddenly in front of a labeled portal. “Open this damned door!”

“…yes sir.” The A.I. answered, the door sliding open.

 Fiore scratched the back of his neck where the jack had been wired. It was still sore, having pulled the bandage off a day early. Kaela had gone with him, had had the same procedure. She sat beside him on the blanket, bare legs basking in the warm sun, her black hair tied back showing fair shoulders, olive skin kissed pink by the sun. He felt the heat, his shoulders already freckled and red, his auburn-red hair sweaty and tucked under a baseball cap. They would have to leave tomorrow, and she had so much left to tell him.

 “Sir?” The A.I. asked, a note of concern in his voice. “Your vitals, sir!” Fiore shook his head to clear it, the tinted visor of the fitted helmet shaking in tandem. His vision making the dull blue lighting of the ship leave trails in the air.

“It’s nothing. I… I think it’s just a side effect from the long-term hibernation in the suit.” Fiore clutched his head and staggered into the hibernation room. The room shone antiseptically metal and white. Shower stalls and mirrored sinks lined one wall while the opposite wall housed personal lockers, airtight and secure for travel. Lined side-by-side the length of the room were the cryochambers, ten in total. All occupied.

“Master Fiore, there’s-”

 “There is more Ama. You’re going to just love this.” The voice said teasingly inside Fiore’s head. He righted himself, shaking the helmet, trying to clear his head.

 “Master Fiore, I must insist you pause for a moment.” The A.I. began. “Your vitals keep spiking, and there is a matter you must be made aware of post haste!”

“Pervy, I’m fine!” Fiore insisted, more to himself than to the motherly A.I. Was she in here? Was she in his head?! He headed towards the line of cryochambers, not sure which would be worse. “I just need to reacclimatize to being out of hibernation. Once that’s complete, my friend, I can doff the confines of this stuffy old suit and I will be as right as rain.”

The A.I. was silent for a change, to Fiore’s surprise. He glanced up at the row of dull blue illuminated tiles that ran the length of the ship (where they would all look when speaking to Pervy, as though needing a face for the disembodied voice) awaiting any sort of response. Having none, he shrugged and moved on.

Fiore stepped to the first chamber, peering into the translucent upper half of the brushed steel and glass sarcophagus. He didn’t recognize the middle-aged man in the chrysalis, nor the woman in the next, nor the next, or even the one after that. He stumbled to the next and stopped short, taking a second and longer look.

 Grant took Kaela’s hand, interlacing their fingers and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. They sat hand in hand on the public bench outside of the guest barracks, watching a stream of meteors flow in a belt around a titanic gaseous planet. Kaela glanced at the cybernetics guy as he passed, giving her a half-wave. That one was odd. He’d have to keep an eye on him. They were maybe a month into their sabbatical aboard the deepspace station, there to provide support, repairs and maintenance for the growing crew of the station. The crew of the Impervious365-X4 would be stationed there for just over a year, so he had better make sure to keep clear of the two of them.

 “James? No, Grant. Grant!” Fiore said, slapping the glass of the cryochamber in triumph. “I remember that prick.” He slid his hand down the chamber and headed to the next.

 The news had devastated him. Kaela had told him on the picnic they had shared, the day before launch. She had cried, and so had he, in spite of himself and perhaps in spite of her. She had said they could no longer see each other and begged him not to talk about it; not to talk to her any more. Despite that, they met again that night, in secret, and made love on the couch of his small rental, sparse of furniture and on its last day of the lease. She left as she had arrived, without a word, eyes sad and on the verge of tears.

 “It was never meant to be – what we had.” She whispered bitingly.

 He saw Kaela at launch, of course, but the formalities and preparations kept them apart. After the journey and the recuperation aboard the deepspace station, Fiore would see her in passing, usually with Grant. Her fiancé. Her fiancé. He had stewed about it for weeks on end, almost a month into their yearlong stint in deepspace. But then came the neuromail message, anonymous, that they should meet. That she needed to see him, now more than ever. That she had to see him in private; had to tell him something.

 Fiore stroked the clear portion of the cryochamber with his thickly gloved hand. She slept peacefully under the glass, the memories falling back into place haphazardly. She was a beauty, silken raven-black hair down to her shoulders with contrasting olive skin, fair and smooth. Even after all she had done his heart still wrenched, trying to pull itself out of his chest, when he looked at her. There was only one more chamber left. His. Fiore plodded on, the Portsuit’s thick rubber bootsoles shuffling on the grated metal floor.

 There had been the usual issues during the return trip takeoff, nothing serious, but now that they had cleared orbit and chartered a hyperspace course, chaos had ensued. The countdown had begun, and the cryosleep chambers were all but full, chemicals pumping and setting stasis for the crew. The last three pods were still open, hissing compressed air and other gases into the hibernation room. All three pods were buzzing warnings, touchscreen controls warning the occupant to initiate cryo stasis as soon as possible. The A.I. was there, obviously, and trying to placate the remaining crew. Kaela sat in her open chamber, shimmying up to the front in order to hop back out, shouting indecipherably. Grant stood over Fiore’s chamber, hands flying over the access screen. Fiore picked himself back up off the grated floor, rubbing his already-swollen jaw, murder in his eyes.

 “I didn’t know though. You have to believe that I didn’t know what he had planned.”

 Grant stepped away from Fiore’s cryochamber, the pod door closing and setting its locking mechanism. He roughly pushed Kaela back into her pod, initiating her pod as well. Fiore stood and swayed – he had not been punched in years, not since primary school... And never like this. The suckerpunch had knocked him down, his head connecting with the metal floor almost as painful as the surprise hard right from Grant. Grant looked at him contemptuously and sneered as he walked slowly to his own pod. Fiore staggered toward him, the room still spinning. Everything was muffled and fuzzy. He probably had a concussion from hitting the floor, and the throbbing in his jaw wasn’t helping. He could hear Kaela screaming at him, screaming at Grant. He could hear his heart beating inside his ears, competing for his attention. He could hear Pervy insistently in the background, urging him to do something, warning him of something… And there was another sound. Another sound most foreign to him.

 “You’re almost there, love. Remember.”

 The droll accent of the A.I. finally broke through the throbbing pain.

“Master Fiore, the jump into hyperspace is imminent. You need to prepare yourself. Your chamber has been tampered with, and I can no longer access it.” Fiore squeezed the bridge of his nose and pinched his eyes shut trying to push the pain away from his brain to make room for thinking. Grant had a smug smile on as his cryochamber latch locked into place, and Kaela kept screaming and beating on the curved glass of her pod. And that other sound... That other sound.

“Pervy, power up the cockpit support controls.” Fiore shouted, turning and running out the hibernation room into the curved-walled corridor. The A.I. paced him, a flash in the bluelit panel. “I don’t care about ship controls, but I want full access to UI protocols and Portsuit protocols.” He spun a corner, equilibrium still off, banging his shoulder into the wall.

“I want my Portsuit opened and powering up by the time I get to it!” He shouted, running full-tilt and leaping through the open port doors as they came. He was out of breath and panting wildly by the time he arrived at the Portsuit locker.

 “Yes, but that sound. The other sound. Remember the other sound? Not me screaming, not the silly computer, not your half-assed survival plan… The other sound.”

 Fiore had the suit on in no time and was doggedly running again, sprinting for the cockpit, attempting a software hack of the access screen on his left forearm that controlled the amenities of the Portsuit. He was already temporally jacked into the suit, but he would need a little time to create the uplink to the ship’s CPU. The A.I. had reverted to a calm countdown until the jump to hyperspace initiated. It would be close, if anything. It would be—

 “The sound, Ama. Please.” She begged.

 Fiore stood at the foot of this cryochamber, afraid to move to the head and peer inside. Afraid, and he didn’t know why. He gritted himself and prepared to move forward.

“Master Fiore.” The A.I. cut apprehensive silence so suddenly that Fiore jumped. “The matter we need to discuss. It will not wait.” Fiore sighed and stepped back from the pod.

“Go ahead, Pervy. Let’s have at it.”

“Your Portsuit, sir.”

“I know, Pervy, but everything seems to be intact. We’ll have to write the company a letter of commendation when we’re back on the ground, if they even still exist.” Fiore laughed lightly, trying to clear his mind of worry. “Who knew these dinky suits could hold out for that long, eh?”

“That’s the problem, sir. The support systems of the Portsuit such as the musculature support and the sensory support have maintained nominally, along with the temporal access port. However, the-”

“The hibernation function?” Fiore finished.

“…Yes sir.”

 “Ama, please… It’s going to be okay.” Kaela whispered in his ear.

 Fiore spun away from the line of cryochambers, making a beeline toward the shower area. The floor seemed to be swaying, like the old-time ships, the ones that floated on water. He almost fell onto the nearest sink, gauntleted hands gripping the white porcelain. He looked in the mirror at the Portsuit helmet, staring back at him: Tight-fitting helmet, airlocked at the neck, black visor, miniature auxiliary cameras at each corner.

“Pervy, what did you do?!”

“Master Fiore… Master Fiore, the hibernation sequence could only be held for a definitive amount of time. It was never meant-” The A.I. stopped speaking, hushed by Fiore slowly reaching for the visor release, a small catch at the base of the helmet.

“Master Fiore, perhaps-”

“Shut up!!!” Fiore shouted through clenched teeth, the mic gritty and screeching with his outburst. The A.I. fell silent again, and waited as the thick fingers of the Portsuit flicked the visor’s catch.

The visor slid up into the top of the helmet smoothly, revealing the interior of the helmet. Fiore gripped the porcelain hard, spiderwebbing the sides of the sink. An old blackened skull was nestled snugly in the confines of the helmet, dark gray and pitted with age. No flesh remained, just dusty bone. Fiore pinwheeled his arms, falling backward and landing with a thud on his rump. A skeleton. His breathing labored over the microphone. I’m all but a skeleton.

“Sir, perhaps I should…” The A.I. began. “When you were in stasis, I ran diagnostics on your Portsuit and found its… limitations. The temporal link to the suit allowed me to reverse engineer a new partition in the suit’s mainframe… Once that was complete and I could add to that partition with extraneous parts we had in the repair bay…”

Fiore was barely listening. He got back on hands and knees and began crawling back toward the line of cryochambers. Towards the last one. Towards his.

 “Ama… Please, you need to understand. You need to remember.”

 Fiore pulled himself up against the pod, and dragged himself toward its head. A skeleton!

“It took an extraneous amount of time, but I managed to copy over your entire memory catalogue, emotion directory and synapse response directory. And after that, it was quite easy to set up the musculature and sensory systems of the suit to respond to the suit’s cerebral controls.” The A.I. said proudly, as though expecting a pat on the back. Nothing but a bag of bones, in other words. Fiore cringed and pinched his eyes shut, realizing that he was not actually pinching his eyes shut.

 “Ama, you need to calm down and think. Ama, please!” The voice crooned. But it was only a voice. Another ghost in his machine. Fiore took a deep breath (aware that he was not in fact taking a deep breath) and peered into his cryochamber.

 A child, or a baby more like, was swaddled in a blanket sound asleep, frozen in time. It had smooth olive skin, an obvious attribute to its mother… And it had a light wisp of auburn-red hair, barely enough to be noticeable in the blue light of the hibernation room. The sound now echoed clearly in his memory as everything fell into place. Not Grant’s threatening rhetoric. Not Kaela’s panicked shrieks. Not the A.I.’s monotone warnings.

 The baby cried, confused and frightened until the vapors from the cryochamber initiating its hibernation sequence lulled it into a doctored sleep. Fiore’s fingers flew over the access screen of the Portsuit, overwriting and rewriting new commands. He barely heard the damned A.I. begin the last minute countdown. He hashed out code and commands he knew by rote. His mind a million miles away. The baby. The baby was his.

 Fiore fled from the room, before the rejuvination cycle could begin. He fled from the impending confrontation. He fled from the future he obviously could have no part in; from the past that he had just so recently discovered. He fled from the memories that were painfully searing into what his conscious still considered his brain. Fiore prayed that from the depths of the ship where he would hide that he would not be able to hear the cries of his baby as it awoke to a life back home. He fancied he could feel tears running down the pitted cracks in his ancient skull.

 Once the Impervious365-X4 reached its target location, it began its trajectory descent back to Earth. The rejuvenation cycle began automatically, restoring the crew and awakening them - acclimating them back into normalcy. The crew of the Impervious365-X4 returned to Earth with the same number of human travelers it had left with, all those years ago.